Disclaimer, timeframe, summary: see first chapter.
Citation for the exorcism transcription: , article 'Exorcism'
In the Wake of Angels: Part XI
"Shit," Dean spat. On either side of Jimmy, Sam and Castiel tensed. Jimmy himself realized it last, although it didn't take him long: the entire pub was full of demons.
Shit.
Despite everything-- despite all that he had seen in his time with Castiel, despite the fact that he had spent the last few weeks calmly waiting for the right moment to die-- Jimmy still felt that there was a good possibility of pissing himself. Some things just scared a man no matter what, and this was one of them.
"You killed our vampires," the preppy-looking demon talking to Dean scolded coolly. "Now we'll have to catch our own humans. Less time for darts," he remarked loudly, and the demons at the dart boards chuckled.
"Yeah?" Dean scoffed. "Well maybe you could slow down a little. I read the papers from around here. Why you need so many humans?" Preppy smiled.
"Oh, you know. We've got family coming to town. All of us do."
"So what are you guys?" Dean continued. "Some rag-tag battalion? Or just a bunch of scavengers?"
"Oh, now I know you're not seriously asking me questions about the Rising," Preppy laughed softly. "As though you had any force behind you to hold an interrogation? Incidentally, I must admit: I'm disappointed. Here's Winchester and Winchester, but the 'co'… is a poor caged birdie and a dried-up husk. Not quite as impressive as your résumés suggest."
"Guess I was just stalling," Dean suggested, smiling easily. Jimmy knew that he was frightened, though, and in turn that frightened Jimmy even more.
"Well enough of that," Preppy announced. "I bore easily."
And then, to Jimmy's eyes, all hell broke loose. Literally.
Demons sprung at them from all sides. What Jimmy had only guessed to be at most eighteen or twenty patrons when he walked in now seemed like a hundred black-eyed nightmares. Sam, Dean and Castiel were all engaged, each seeming to take on two or three apiece. To Jimmy's confused eyes, it was hard to keep track of which demon was which and nearly impossible to tell who was fighting whom. It did seem, though, that no one was going to fight him-- everyone in the room seemed to be utterly ignoring him.
Or so he thought. A thick hand on his shoulder told him otherwise. He spun around to see the bartender, his eyes black as onyx, and similarly reflective of the bar's lighting fixtures. He was looking definitely not-so-nice now, his smile twisted and animalistic as he threw his first punch.
Jimmy moved on instinct, ducking, and in the same motion pulling a vial of holy water from his pocket. He came up on the other side of the demon, splashing him in the face, using his moment of distraction to push him back and into the open, away from the bar. He grabbed another container from his pocket and fast as he could, ringed the ground around the bartender with rock salt, trapping him like a bug in the circle. For good measure, he doused him once again with holy water.
The demon growled and lunged at Jimmy, but couldn't break the salt barrier. Jimmy grinned. It was just like he and Sam had planned; he was unlikely to be capable of doing any real damage, but he could at least trap the demons, keep as many as possible from the fight.
Jimmy reached into a pocket yet again-- he'd had the good sense to buy a pair of cargo pants, something he thought Sam and Dean would be wise to do-- and pulled out a slip of paper on which was written lines of Latin in Sam's loopy hand. Don't waste time on this if you've got more than one on you, Sam had warned, but the rest of the demons still seemed occupied.
"Regna terrae," Jimmy began, and inside his salt trap, the demon writhed. "Cantate Deo, sal… psallite Domino. Qui fertis super caelum, caeli ad… Orientum."
"Jimmy, look out!" Sam's voice screamed suddenly. Jimmy raised his head from the paper in time to see a demon's foot as it connected his with his gut. He gasped, not dropping the paper, but as he stumbled backwards, he kicked away some of the salt from the barrier holding the bartender hostage. He and the new demon, a motherly woman, exchanged a satisfied glance. Then, together, they advanced on Jimmy.
Desperate, his mind going blank, Jimmy did the only thing he could think to do, and began the ritual again. He didn't think it would exorcise them, not really, but maybe it would disorient them long enough for someone else to step up and finish them.
Yeah, right.
Oh well, Jimmy thought, guess I didn't have some last big contribution after all.
"Regna terrae," he said again, "Cantate Deo, psallite Domino. Qui fertis super caelum, caeli ad Orientum." The demons shook, gripping their hair, but each line seemed to affect them less. He reached for the vial of holy water to splash them again, but found it empty. He had another… but what goddamn pocket had he put it in? There were so many….
"Ecce," he continued, stumbling over the Latin as fast as he could, "dabit voci suae vocem virtu-virtutis…"
The demons were practically shaking it off now, advancing towards Jimmy once again. He backed up, bracing himself, fists raised to go down swinging. Then:
"Sam!" Dean's voice shouted. "By the bar! I got this, go!"
His view obscured by the two demons, Jimmy couldn't see what the others were doing, or tell how close Sam was to him. He didn't know if Sam would make it in time until suddenly both demons spasmed and leaned forward as though about to puke. Their collapse gave Jimmy a clear view of Sam coming towards them, hand raised, eyes squinting in deep concentration. Black smoke was dribbling out of the demon's mouths, accompanied by horrible choking sounds. Jimmy thought for one wild moment they might explode, though he'd never seen that happen before, and then it was over, and their bodies collapsed dead to the ground.
"You okay?" Sam panted; a line of blood was running from one nostril and had reached his lip. He was sweating, too, and Jimmy knew that the two simultaneous exorcisms had put a major drain on his system. He didn't seem to slow, though, turning and sprinting back towards the other demons the moment Jimmy had tremblingly nodded yes.
His courage shamed Jimmy. Here he was, a man not afraid to die, and yet he hung back from getting hurt, while Sam charged right back into the fray. It didn't sit right. Jimmy finally located the other holy water container, this one a recycled Poland Spring bottle, in his left bottom pocket, and ran.
He tackled the first demon he saw, one of the two who was fist-fighting with Dean. Next to them, Sam was holding a demon still with his mind but had fallen back on verbal exorcism. Three more bodies were on the floor here, and Jimmy had a sudden sinking feeling like he'd lost a car in his blind spot while driving on the highway; there just didn't seem to be enough demons accounted for. But he couldn't worry about it now, having committed himself to fighting the demon-- a small Asian woman-- who he'd jumped from behind.
He upended the Poland Spring, splashing warm water on his own face in the process, and the demon screamed, crumpling to her knees under Jimmy's added weight. Above him he could tell that Dean was now handling the single demon just fine, and Jimmy felt a surge of pride at having helped in some way. He pushed himself up off the woman, who in turn pushed herself back to her feet and spun on Jimmy, punching him clear across the face. Blinking away blood, he returned the blow; there was the sound of the possessed woman's nose breaking, although Jimmy imagined that was the least of her concerns.
Not hindered in the slightest, the woman kicked out at Jimmy, catching him behind one knee and nearly upending him. He didn't fall but the blow left him seriously off-balance; he grabbed a fistful of salt from the open bag in his pocket and threw it across the ground in front of him, giving him a moment to recoup. He had known it would be painfully temporary but it literally lasted less than the time Jimmy took to exhale, as the male demon that Dean had been sparring with was knocked down, breaking it. Luckily, though, he pulled Jimmy's demon down with him, and they both sprawled on the floor.
Acting nearly in unison, Jimmy and Dean both stepped down-- hard-- on their respective demon's chests. Jimmy realized then that he'd lost his text to the exorcism ritual in the latest confusion, but Dean was already reciting it from memory, and both demons were writhing on the floor. Jimmy threw all his efforts into keeping them there, putting his full weight on the woman, kicking out at the man with his other leg, dousing them with the last of his holy water. Just when he was afraid he could hold them no longer, twin clouds of smoke erupted from the demon's mouths; Jimmy stumbled back in surprise and fell to the floor. When the smoke had dissipated, Dean was at his side, pulling him to his feet.
"That was awesome, man," Dean told him sincerely, thumping him on the back. "Really awesome." Jimmy nodded to accept the compliment, too out of breath to do so verbally. But Dean was gone, sucker-punching a demon who approached Sam from behind while Sam focused on his exorcism.
No more demons seemed to be coming at Jimmy for the time being, so he took a moment to explore why there seemed to be a shortage of demons on the battlefield; he now also noticed that the bar also seemed to be short one angel. Jimmy had a bad feeling deep in his gut at the looks of this; he scanned the room again, but knew he wouldn't find anything he hadn't the first time through; Kavanaugh's was just a big, open square. Except… except for the back room.
An instant later, Jimmy was bursting through the door, and nearly screamed at what he saw there. Five or six demons had Castiel cornered; a few more were dead on the floor, but Castiel was having a harder time fighting off the ones cornering her now. And it was painfully clear why: cuts and gashes infested every inch of Castiel's skin, dripping with blood that Jimmy knew was partially from the demons. Reflexively, Jimmy ran one hand down his arm, feeling the scars beneath his fingers from his own blood poisoning. For a full, terrifying moment he was unable to make a sound. But then he looked at Castiel-- really looked at her-- and instead saw Jeanie, saw a fellow vessel, being hurt. Typically in the middle of a fight he would have tried to keep the humanity of the angel's host as far from his mind as possible-- far too distracting for someone with his history. But this time, seeing the body for whose it really was broke the spell that fear had cast.
"Sam! Dean! Back here!" Jimmy yelped. The demons paid him no mind, nor did they react when Dean came running. Their only activity was to keep cutting on Jeanie, slice after slice, not slowed when Castiel managed to kill one among them, cutting on each other as well and wiping their blood all across her body.
"Castiel!" Dean shouted. "Run! We're fine, go!" Mindlessly he whipped out a gun and began firing rounds, hitting the demons in their backs, only adding to the frenzy of blood in the room. Frustrating, growling, he charged them directly, followed by Jimmy, who lunged and grabbed the closest demon around the neck. Behind them he could almost feel the energy flowing as Sam came bursting in the room and tried to fling them off Castiel with his diminishing powers.
Jeanie-- damn it, Castiel-- obeyed Dean and made a beeline for the back door. The demons held back, not following her, just waiting. But the preppy-looking demon, the first who had spoken, stood up from the middle of the pile and laughed.
"Oh no," he said. "The bitch goes nowhere." He grinned. "Kavanaugh's Pub: angels check in but they don't check out."
"Dean," Sam moaned, pointing at the door. Above it, signs were carved into the wood; Jimmy recognized none of them, but understood their purpose, which the demon confirmed as though reading his thoughts.
"Oh yeah-- angel trap. One above every exit. Nothing angelic gets out, no… telepathic data. No calls for help. And certainly no angels themselves. Not in their meatsuits, anyway."
Trapped, Castiel turned to fight once more, and the demons descended upon her. Jimmy, Sam and Dean all ran at them but, just as quickly as it had begun, it ended and the demons fled. Jimmy knew it could only mean one thing: Jeanie's body had been sufficiently poisoned. Dean knew it too.
"Jimmy," he cried. "Shoot the door!" Jimmy pulled his gun from its holster and shot straight through the symbols holding Castiel hostage; he lurched forward and threw the door open for Dean, who flew through with Castiel in his arms. Behind them, stumbling, weakened, came Sam.
The spring air outside was almost laughably fresh, cool on Jimmy's skin and free of the scents of blood and sulfur. Not far away, trees rustled their leaves slowly in the slight wind. Dean had laid Castiel on the grass and was kneeling beside her, cradling her head, apologizing again and again for not getting there faster.
"It… is not your fault, Dean," Castiel insisted from the ground. Her voice sounded weak.
"Oh, God," Dean choked, wiping blood out of Castiel's eyes. "What do I do, Sammy?" Sam shrugged helplessly; he had no answer.
But Jimmy did. All at once, he knew what his last act was going to be; once he realized it, it felt like he'd known all along.
"You take me," he said clearly, firmly. "It's too late for Jeanie but I'm right here."
"You've been infected," Sam reminded him, shaking his head. "There's no getting rid of it completely." But Jimmy knew the answer to that too.
"I'm tainted-- me, Jimmy, my soul. But my body's clean now." Then Sam understood as well
"No, Jimmy," he began, protesting out of instinct, but Jimmy held up a hand to silence him.
"It makes sense," he said with certainty. "Cas takes this body. I don't want it anymore anyway."
There was a strange, surprised gasp from the ground as Dean caught on to Jimmy's plan. "Would that work?" he asked Castiel. "If Jimmy left his meatsuit would you be able to take it again?" Castiel nodded.
"I believe so," she said slowly. A faint glow was beginning behind her eyes, inside her mouth, but she held on fiercely.
"No," Sam said again. "Jimmy, do you know what you're--"
"We don't have time to talk about this," Jimmy insisted, cutting him off. "We're doing this. I want to." Then for the first time, he faltered. "How… how should I…?"
With Dean's help, Castiel struggled into a sitting position. "You don't need to do anything, Jimmy," she assured him, her voice gentle. "If you're truly open to me, I'll be able to push you out. There won't be any pain."
"I'm open," Jimmy whispered, his eyes beginning to burn. "I promise, I'm open."
"If I'm to do it, I need to do it now."
"I know," Jimmy told her. His heart raced. He nodded tightly at Dean, then turned to Sam, holding his hand out. "You're a good man, Sam," he told him, earnestly, and Sam grabbed his hand and pumped it back like he never intended to let go.
"You're a great man, Jimmy," Sam replied, his voice rough. "And you would have made a great hunter."
Jimmy laughed. He felt the urgency and thick, sticky emotion of the situation, but he was unaffected by it; instead it felt rather like he was climbing on top of it, using it to stand taller, reach the better air above.
"Kneel, Jimmy," Castiel said, and Jimmy let go of Sam's hand and kneeled, lowering his face so the angel could take it in both hands.
"Good luck, guys. You too, Jeanie," Jimmy said, looking Castiel in the eye, almost seeing through to the frightened girl within. I'm coming now, Claire, he added silently. And then there was a pressure, a release, and a blinding light, and then there was nothing anymore.