Chapter 2: History of Pain
AN: Sorry this has gone forever without an update. I am trying to get back into the swing of things in 2013.
"My name is Kirstey Cotton, and the Lament configuration ruined my life." The once lovely face of the woman had turned into a scowl of rage as she held Sam by his collar.
"Kirstey Cotton?" Sam asked, using his free hand to flip forward a page in his father's journal until he saw her name, "daughter of Larry Cotton and wife of Trevor Gooden?"
"How did you?" she began, her grip loosening.
"My dad did an investigation after what happened in '87. In '88 he went to the Chernard Institute, but you had already gone. It doesn't say anything more other than that your husband died in 2002."
"He investigated me?" Kirstey screamed furiously, likely waking many of the people sleeping at the little motel.
Same shook his head. He had to fight himself not to break out of her grip and risk injuring her. "He was investigating the box, not you. You just happen to be one of the few people to ever survive it so obviously you are worth mentioning. What is the Lament Configuration, Kirstey?"
"Hell," she sighed, her grip weakening, "hell in a tiny golden box. For anyone foolish enough to solve the puzzle, a portal is opened. Then they come." She released Sam and turned away. Shaky fingers pulled a cigarette and a lighter from her gown. The flickering flame of the lighter would have revealed the terror in her eyes at the memory. She took a long drag before she spoke again while the thin wisps of smoke boiled from her lips. "The Cenobites; angels to some, demons to others."
"What are they?" Same asked while placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Kirstey sighed and tried to find the words, "Monsters. They were human once. Before they found the box. Their leader at the time I met them was once a man named Elliot Spencer. He was a soldier, but I don't know in what war for sure. Then the Cenobites got to him. They cut lines over his skull until he looked like a piece of fucking graph paper and at every intersection they hammered a nail into his skull. People called him Pinhead, but I don't think he ever said his real name. I guess its part of what makes him so terrifying. That and the almost medical consistency of those damned pins."
Sam took all of this in stride, and, though it was a close stretch, realized he had heard worse. "There were others I assume?"
"The first time I met them, they were fewer in number. The Chatterer, the Female, the Butterball, and Elliot. There was also a monster that attacked me that I believe was called the Engineer. Doctor Chernard became a cenobite as well, but he was defeated."
"Is that all you know?" Sam asked, flipping through his father's journal. Kirstey nodded and he began to read the carefully inked words straight from the book. "The Lament Configuration is the most notorious of a series of puzzles, individually known to some as a Lemarchand's box. Solving the puzzle will open a dimensional gateway across a realm called The Schism to the destination. This gateway can be traversed in either direction, but generally things come from the other side. The creatures, called Cenobites," Sam paused, "Dad made a note here in parentheses. (A Cenobite is a member of a communal religious order) who are part of a group called The Order of the Gash appear to the puzzle solver and the one who opened the game is almost always killed." Sam chose not to read the part that said 'See notes on Kirstey Cotton.'
Sam looked to the side and saw Dean, strangely out of character, standing at the slightly open door to their room and listening in. He continued, "The Cenobites are vastly intelligent and though compelled to seek out the person responsible for opening the gate, they have been shown to bypass the one to solve the puzzle if they were merely a pawn used by someone else to open the gate. As for the boxes themselves, they were created in the 18th century by Philip Lemarchand, a French toymaker. The original was commissioned by Duc de L'Isle. The first usage of the Lament Configuration summoned a demon princess named Angelique who inhabited the skin of a slain mortal woman (murdered by de L'Isle and his apprentice.) Angelique was theirs to command unless they stood in Hell's way. Angelique betrayed de L'Isle and killed him a few short days later."
"I never knew," Kirstey whispered, enthralled by the box's story.
"Lemarchand, who realized what he had created, was in the process of creating a new design (the Elysium Configuration) which would supposedly destroy the demons. He was discovered in an attempt to steal the Lament Configuration back and informed that he and his bloodline would be cursed until the end of time itself because of his involvement in the creation of the Lament Configuration. He was killed by Angelique, but his bloodline still lives. Have been unable to trace passed the beginning of the 19th century. That's all it says."
"So nothing about how to kill them?" Dean asked while he stepped through the door causing Kirstey to jump in fright.
"Who are you?" she shouted.
"Sammy's brother, Dean. And you are?"
"Kirstey Cotton," Sam explained. "Dean, there's something you should know. The demon in my dream about Bobby is one of the more vivid things I remember aside from the death. Dad doesn't even mention what they look like in the journal. But Kirstey, she described the Cenobites leader Pinhead, Dead, he's who I saw kill Bobby."
"I hope this is just another psychic thing Sam, but we need to check it out," Dean pulled out his cell phone and dialed Bobby's number. The rings came slowly until the answering machine picked up.
"Nothing," Sam sighed.
"Guess we're making a trip to Sioux Falls, North Dakota," Dean gave an equal sigh.
"I'm coming with you!" Kirstey demanded and walked off to her room, presumably to pack.
Dean glared at Sam and the younger brother rolled his eyes, "She has fought them before Dean. We could use the help if anything is wrong. Even dad didn't know how to kill them."
"Fine, but she isn't riding in front."