A/N: Well, it has been four months, but I am finally back to continue with this story. Now that the computer is up and running, I can actually post stuff! :D Anyway, I am deeply ashamed of how late this is, and I apologize for dropping this. I completely understand if anyone has given up on this, but I hope that I can at least entertain the rest! So here is chapter four.
Chapter Four
The one you call Yellow Eyes. If you want your precious son to live, you're to let him go. And no, your sons aren't going to hunt him, either. The minute Azaezel dies, Dean dies. Clear?
John's eyes snapped open and he shot up in his bed, gasping, face drenched in sweat. Outside the window of his crappy motel, the dim light of a street lamp seeped through the venetian blinds, casting eerie shadows on his bed. Massaging the bridge of his nose tiredly (a habit Sam had since picked up), he glanced at his alarm, the red digits reading 2:24 AM.
The dream had been recurring for a few weeks now. A play by play of those moments with the crossroads demon before sealing the deal. At first, John had played by the rules, avoiding Yellow Eyes like the plague. That had been one of his conditions, after all. And technically, he had not had contact with the demon. True, it was because he was usually one step behind, and not his avoidance, but for the past few months, he seemed to have been getting away with continuing the hunt without dire consequences for himself, or Dean. John Winchester was playing with fire (quite literally) and he knew that it was only a matter of time before he or his sons were burned. But at the same time, other families would meet a fate similar to theirs if Yellow Eyes wasn't stopped.
Sighing, John switched on the bedside lamp and reached through the latest stack of documents. The room, his home base while in California, was riddled with newspaper clippings, articles printed from websites, photographs of potential victims. If anyone were to check up on him, there would be a lot of explaining to do. But that was the least of John's concerns at the moment. As he researched, his dream replayed in his mind, constantly nagging him of the consequences of continuing the hunt. He knew that direct contact with Azaezel would be a risk too great for him to take, but he also knew damn well that keeping him alive was not an option either. He'd been pressing his luck as it was, and fortunate that the demon's direct turn to California had not happened earlier.
There was always Bobby.
Bobby Singer had always been a good and trustworthy friend: and while that friendship had been severely tested (and nearly severed) when he had pointed his shotgun at the older man, John knew that he would trust Bobby with his life: and the lives of his sons. He'd been supportive following Dean's cancer diagnosis, offering financial assistance (and, as the grizzled hunter had later told him, provide a swift kick in the ass to his stubborn first born), had always been the first to offer his babysitting expertise despite his fear of raising children of his own. And there were always the connections. While John was reluctant to drop the whole thing on Bobby, he had remembered hearing of a good friend of his. The Winchester patriarch had never met this man named Rufus, but from what Bobby had told him, he was a good hunter. A part of him felt guilty: capable or not, the Yellow Eyed Demon was one tough sonofabitch, and putting Rufus in charge of taking him down was dangerous to say the least. But despite his fears of jeopardizing Bobby's friend, if he were to admit it, John Winchester was actually pissed about having to hand over years of research. Could he really, in all honesty, just hand over years of research to a stranger, regardless of his connections? Sure, Bobby could vouch for the guy, just as he could for Caleb or any of his close ties in the hunting community.
But telling Bobby would also mean admitting that he had made a deal in the first place. Not exactly the wisest move on his part. John closed his eyes, clearly hearing the older hunter's voice bitching him out for his decision. You dumbass, what the hell do were you thinking? Sellin' yer soul for that boy? How do you think he's gonna feel when he finds out, ye idgit?
"I was doing it for Dean." Of course, there was no response. And even if Singer were here, no amount of justification could convince him that John had made the right call. "He's my boy."
John leaned back on his bed, staring at the clutter pinned to the motel walls. He couldn't just give it up, not when he was so close. But he couldn't risk Dean's relapse, either. And he had no clue whatsoever what the demon's plans were for Sam. For several minutes he lay there, mentally calculating the pros and cons of both scenarios.
Twenty minutes later he was on the phone to Sioux Falls.
XXX
It was still dark when the Impala pulled into the drive of the log cabin, the clock on Dean's cell reading 1:45 AM. In the back, Jess was asleep, exhausted from the long drive, late hour, and emotional stress. And who could really blame her? The girl had been basically abandoned her home, friends, education. Not to mention the fact that she had learned the truth of the Family Business. It was enough to make anyone, even tough as nails Jessica, overwhelmed. Dean sighed inwardly as he cut the engine, glanced over to where his gigantic younger brother was slouched against the passenger door, also seemingly asleep. God, the kid had gone through a lot since last June, between this and the cancer shit. Sam needed a break for once. And he was just as exhausted as his fiancée. For a moment, he considered letting him sleep, guiding him and Jess to a bed while he did all the warding. But Sam would never let him hear the end of that one.
"Hey, Sammy," he called softly, gently shaking his brother until the taller man sat up, gingerly massaging his stiff neck. "Take it we're here?" he muttered sleepily, yawning as he straightened himself out.
"Yeah. Was gonna wake you earlier but figured you needed your beauty sleep."
"Shut up." Dean chuckled, reached behind him to wake Jess. "Rise and shine, sweetheart. Casa de Winchester is open for business."
Several minutes later, the trio had lugged their possessions into the cabin, a roaring flame burning in the fireplace. Just as Dean had expected, Sam immediately got to work on warding the place, and the elder Winchester couldn't help but smile. Domesticated or not, the kid still knew the game. Once a hunter, always a hunter. But the smile quickly faded as Jess' diamond reflected in the firelight. The job was not one for relationships, his father and Bobby had provided more than enough proof on that matter. Trying to push the thought away, Dean grabbed a can of spray paint and went to work. The sooner the cabin was secured, the sooner they all could try to get some sleep.
XXX
Maybe if she hadn't been so tired, it wouldn't have happened.
Maybe if the salt line had been a little thicker, or perhaps a detail in the devil's trap had been slightly off. Maybe if he'd opened up to hear about hunting, had given her a little goddamned warning, none of this would have happened.
All Sam Winchester knew was that in the morning, he and Dean had left to go for a supply run, and when they returned, life as he'd known it had ceased to exist, gone like the spark of a dying flame. Not one hour earlier, he'd kissed his sleeping fiancée goodbye before rousing his brother and heading out to town. Now, an hour later, they had returned to a seemingly empty cabin, and a familiar reek of rotten eggs permeating through every room. Sam felt his heart pounding in his chest, the bag of groceries crashing to the floor. Jess. Where was she? Beside him, Dean already had his gun drawn, ready to cover his brother should he do something completely reckless; and sure enough, within seconds Sam was running through their so called refuge, screaming her name, all the while praying that he wasn't too late. The place still smells of sulphur, we weren't gone that long, maybe she's still ok. Please, god, let her be ok.
They found her in the bedroom, still dressed in her nightie, screaming as some unseen force pulled her up the faux log walls as if she were a child's toy. At the other end of the room was a young brunette about Jess' age, focused on the task before her. She seemed like the average college student, dressed in a pale blue sweater, swede jacket and jeans, dark hair pulled up in a messy bun. The only thing evil about her was her eyes, a strange, pale yellow, like those of a wild animal. The brothers burst into the room and Sam finally drew his own weapon, and the demon paused in her work, turning to the intruders. Before them, Jess froze in mid ascension, screaming for Sam between sobs of terror.
"Well, well, look what the cat drug in," she purred, smiling vindictively at the boys. Seconds later, both brothers were flung across the room like rag dolls, the demon laughing menacingly while Jess continued to scream and thrash on the wall, trying to free herself from the demon's grip. For a moment, both brothers remained motionless, and despite the immediate threat to her own life, Jessica feared that both Sam and Dean were dead. It terrified her to think of dying at the hands of the paranormal, but to think of her fiancé and his brother, the one she loved almost as much as Sam, was too much. Drawing as deep a breath as she could despite being pinned to a goddamned wall, Jessica steadied her nerves, trying to settle the pounding of her heart. You can do this, Moore. You're tough, you're smart. You can do this. She opened her mouth to speak, ready to draw the attention away from the brothers and to herself, at least long enough for one of them to come to.
Only to find herself completely mute.
Fuck. Of course. By now, an intense anger threatened to overshadow her terror. How dare this sonofabitch, wearing her friend's body, go after her family? No way was she going down without a fight. The demon noticed the anger in her blue green eyes, and actually laughed. "Oh, Jessica, you always were a spitfire," she taunted. "I can totally see what Sammy sees in you." Jess opened her mouth to protest, and sighed in frustration upon remembering that she couldn't even be granted the luxury of a smart ass comment before death. Because she knew that she wasn't getting out of this one alive. Hopefully Sam and Dean would, they had more experience, but she was a goner. But that didn't mean that she wasn't about to go down without a fight.
Just then, a low moan from the corner alerted the demon's attention. Slowly, she turned around in time to see Sam slowly sit up, rubbing the back of his head and blinking the fog from his eyes. For a moment, he was disoriented, trying to calculate just what the fuck was going on, and why he and his brother were passed out in the corner. But one sight of the demon and Jess struggling against the wall snapped his brain back into attention. "Let her go," he hissed, and immediately began to recite the familiar Latin verses of an exorcism. The demon simply rolled her eyes, and within seconds, Sam was also pinned against the wall, rendered mute. "I always thought Dean was the big talker in the family. Guess it's you with the big mouth, Sammy." She clicked her tongue and stole a glance at Dean, who was also shaking off the effects of his latest bump on the head. "I think I remember reading that it was only Sammy who memorized all that Latin. And I'm pretty sure there's no book for you to look it up."
"You sonofabitch. Let them go."
"Oh, Dean. You think I'm just going to do that? And spoil the fun? At first, I thought I wouldn't even get in, even if I am wearing lover girl's former roommate." She smiled, admiring herself as if she were a fine wine. "She was a looker, though. Someone the likes of you wouldn't mind spending a night with."
"Fuck you."
"My, my. And I always thought Dean Winchester to be a gentleman. Guess that just shows that you can't always believe everything that you hear. And just for that…." Dean gasped as he, too, was thrown to the wall. "I'm going to let you two watch. I have to change things up a bit now, wasn't planning on you yahoos walking in on us, but c'est la vie. Besides, it might be kinda fun."
"No! Don't!" But it was too late. The demon's eyes flashed back to that eerie yellow before she turned around, brandishing a very sharp blade from the pocket of her coat. Before either brother had a chance to react, she turned and thrust the weapon in Jess's stomach, the young woman crying out wordlessly in agony as the demon twisted the blade viciously a few times before pulling it out. At the other end of the room, Dean shouted the young woman's name in horror, while Sam could only scream silently, cheeks streaked with tears and sweat. The demon turned to them, grinning wickedly, before smoking out, the vessel's body collapsing, lifeless, to the floor.