Chapter 7:
Now:
Wards' Place on Candice Drive. October 31, 2007.
The squeak from the door hinges seemed to amplify in the dark space. His own hammering heartbeat thundered loudly in his ears. Bracing himself, Dean opened the basement door fully and shined his flashlight into the room. The iron smell of blood clogged his nose, even before he entered the room.
It was with a mixture of relief and disappointment that he took in the bloody scene before him. A single old light bulb dangled down from the ceiling, shining a spotlight on the mangled body strapped to a rusty metal chair at the center. The short-cropped light brunette hair highlighted was thankful not Sammy's dark unmanageable mane. Dean rested his fingers on Robert Jackson's neck, checking for a pulse. "He's gone," he called out to the agents around him. "Poor bastard."
Morgan let out a frustrated sigh at the literal dead-end they'd encountered. "What should we do with the body? I know you said that they had no control over their actions, but who is going to believe that they are innocent, or at least Captain Wards is, when a dead body is found in her bloody basement?"
Dean briefly considered Morgan's point. "Maybe you all should leave and let Bobby and I take care of the body. You know, for plausible deniability purposes." The silent gasps and shocked looks from the others didn't exactly come as a surprise to him, but Dean plowed on. "Besides, it's best if Bobby and I dispose of the body properly just in case Mr. Jackson here decides to come back as a vengeful ghost given the way he was violently murdered."
Morgan looked to Hotch for his decision, and Dean was a tad surprised to see Henriksen do the same. He guessed the agent's encountered with the demon was a humbling experience for him.
Hotch's eyes flickered close for a moment as he exhaled sharply. His hand tightened around the flashlight he was holding. It went against everything in his nature to agree to Dean's plan, to turn a blind eye to the situation and possibly never give Robert Jackson's family the closure they looked for, but the rules had changed. The person...thing that had committed the crime was not of this world nor governed by their laws. Hotch had to make the decision that was best for his team, and they can't deal with a department full of demons as well as vengeful ghosts if Dean's fear came to fruition. "We'll see you two back at the motel then."
Dean noticed Morgan's eyes widened slightly at Hotch's decision before he and Henriksen followed the man out of the basement and up the stairs. A moment later, Bobby joined Dean, taking in the mess in front of them. "Damn," whispered the older hunter.
"Yeah," agreed Dean. "We need to properly get rid of the body, salt and burn it just in case. Then, scrub this entire basement somehow."
"Too bad it'd be too suspicious to torch the whole house," Bobby lamented. As he helped Dean lifted the body up the stairs, he continued, "And what if the demon comes back for round two while we're still here, huh?"
Pausing a moment to adjust the weight he was carrying, Dean fired back. "Well, let's hurry then and quit yapping."
"Idjit," was the only response he got as he and Bobby quickly went about their clean-up.
xxxxxx
Location Unknown.
JJ waited with bated breath as the door in front of her swung open. Though she was expecting it, she still had to hold back a surprise gasp at the sight of Captain Wards. She could see Sam's jaw tightened at their captor's smug look.
"Hello Sammy," greeted Wards cheerfully. At Sam's silence, she continued. "Don't say you forgot about me already? Now, your brother, I could forgive, but you? I'm hurt, Sammy." Her hands went to her chest mockingly. "We were so close, so intimate," she drew out.
"Meg," Sam growled. "What do you want?" He shifted slightly, trying to keep from drawing attention to the fact that he was now blocking JJ completely from the demon's view. His body was wound up even tighter than before, ready to attack at the slightest movement. JJ was glad for the barrier that Sam provided against Wards.
Wards - Meg - was still as calm and cheerful as ever, unaffected, or rather, uncaring of the stifling animosity in the room. "You, Sammy," she started, "I don't want anything from you. I'm more interested in your brother, but I'm holding on to you for a friend, well more of a colleague really. And the FBI agent," Meg nodded in JJ's direction. "Well, she's just collateral damage," she ended with a shrug.
JJ wanted to express her indignation at being consider "just collateral damage," but she bit her tongue to keep from drawing more attention to herself. She could sit on her pride for the moment; better her pride that was wounded than her life forfeited. She also had to keep herself from glancing at the Devil's Trap crudely carved on the ceiling, daring the demon to step one foot into the basement.
Sam had taken offense to Meg's words as well, though for a different reason, as he demanded, "What do you want with Dean, and who's your colleague?"
"I just want to give Deano a sneak peek of what he will be facing for all eternity and help him get downstairs ahead of schedule. That's all," Meg said with a wink. "Lilith though, she heard you were looking for her and well, she thought she'd save you the trouble. She should arrive in about two days or so. I'll just keep you for her until then. Don't worry. I won't do anything to you and your friend though, because as much as I love physical torture, I quite enjoy the mental kind as well."
JJ could hardly wrap her head around everything that Meg had dumped on them before the demon slammed the metal door shut, locking them in again. Turning to Sam, she declared, "We need to hurry up and get the hell out of here."
"I couldn't agree more," he replied.
xxxxxx
Days Inn. November 1, 2007.
Waking up was a nightmare. His sore and worn body ached with each movement, yet it was better than the actual night terror that he had been caught in moments before. Rousing the others was simply enough. Everyone was too worried and tensed to sleep for long; Hotch and Rossi, despite turning in the night before as late as he had, were already up when Dean knocked on their door.
No one was in any mood for small talk so it was just a quick good morning all around before they got down to business. According to Garcia's surveillance, all officers had remained overnight at the station, no one entering or leaving, though no actual sighting of either Wards or Forker still. The technical analyst also discovered that there was a structure beneath the police station in one of the older building plans. While they didn't have any other evidence to back it up, they banked on Sam and JJ being held there.
Dean wanted to storm the place and search the basement - "If there even is one!" interjected Bobby, the voice of reason. "We could be walking into an ambush!"
"We don't have a lot of options here," countered Morgan. He looked unhappy to be agreeing with Dean. Probably still not over the fact that the hunter had pulled a quick one over him before. "We don't have any other clues, and we're running out of time, if you're right about the message on the wall."
"We could be walking into an ambush or a successful rescue mission - "
" - What about the possessed officers then?" added Reid. "You can't put a bullet into all of them, and even if they are all already dead, it's not a risk we can take."
"I have to agree with the kid." Reid's face scrunched up with indignation at being called a kid, but he didn't say anything - Dean wondered if his missing brother, whom the FBI agent seemed to share a number of characteristics with, would have stayed quiet at the slight - Henriksen though didn't even pause. "I'm glad that you didn't just shoot me. What about that chant thing that you used for me? Can't you use that?"
"Yeah, we could perform an exorcism, but it's a tricky business, if you remembered. The demons aren't going to stand by quietly and not put up a fight while we're smoking them out. We can't hold down everyone at once, especially if they're spread throughout the station," said Dean.
"What if we shut them in and broadcast the exorcism through the PA system?" suggested Garcia. "The system is accessible from both the front desk by the entrance and the chief's office."
Gazing over the building plans, Dean said, "If we're doing that, the easiest one to get to is the front desk, but that means we literally have to storm through the front door."
"Not necessarily," Prentiss pointed out. "The window for the chief's office is accessible from the street. One group could sneak in that way while another storms the entrance. That way, we keep both our options in play and have a distraction for the office group. The question, though, is how to keep the demons in the station."
"That is an easy problem to solve, agent," replied Dean with a smirk. His voice had lost the hesitation and worried from earlier at the new plan. "We line all the doors and windows of the station with salt and none of the demons will be able to leave."
"That easy?" asked Morgan with some reservations.
"Yeah," answered Bobby for Dean. "Although," he added, "it wouldn't hurt to draw some Devil's Traps around the station, just in case."
xxxxxx
Dumfries Police Station.
With a plan laid out, the team set off to work. By some miracle, none of the demons inside caught them as the hunters and agents laid their traps around the Dumfries Police Station. Bobby, Prentiss, and Reid crept quietly up to one of the windows on the far side of the building.
"This is it," whispered Prentiss, "the chief's office."
Bobby nodded in response as he tested the window, only to find it locked. The old hunter gave the ground a quick scan and picked up small rock before he discarded it. Instead, he pulled his gun from the waist of his pants, weighed it in his hands for a moment, and double checked that the safety was still on before he flipped it around to hold it by the barrel. "Ok. Ready."
Reid quickly relayed the message through his comms. Once he got a confirmation from the others, the kid held up three fingers in countdown for Bobby to see. When the last finger was lowered, Bobby smashed the butt of his gun as hard as possible against the window, shattering the glass. At the same time, a loud shotgun blast could heard from the other side of the building at the entrance followed by shouting.
Focusing on the task at hand, Bobby knocked down the remaining glasses around the edge, reached in to unlock the window, and lifted up the frame. Tossing his jacket in first to cover the broken glasses on the floor, he climbed through the window, careful to land on the cushioned area. He turned to take the duffle bag of weapons and supplies from Prentiss before helping her and Reid through the window. Bobby pointed Reid towards the PA system and handed him a copy of the Rituale RomanumExorcism.
"Here. Read this and don't stop no matter what."
"Got it. Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus …"
Bobby passed Prentiss one of the rock-salted shotguns from the duffle bag before he took out a can of red spray paint. "Can you watch the door while I get this set up, just in case?" he asked.
"Got your back," Prentiss replied with a nod. Her eyes focused on the wooden door that separated the three from the rest of the action-packed station as Bobby began to paint a Devil's Trap in front of it.
"...omnis congregatio et secta diabolica…"
Reid was three-fourth of the way through the exorcism by the time Bobby finished with the trap. "That should keep any of 'em from interrupting you two."
"Be careful," called Prentiss as Bobby left the warded office, rock-salted shotgun in hand.
He made a left down the hallway, clearing each room as he passed them before Bobby spotted a slumped body at the end of the hall. Moving towards it, he kept a wary eye on the deserted hallway. As he bent down to check it, he could make out the faint thump-thump of the formerly possessed officer's pulse against his fingers. "Well," Bobby murmured, "at least not everyone is lost."
Just then, Dean and Hotchner came into view from the squad room, guns raised. "Is he still alive?" asked the latter as both lowered their weapons at the sight of Bobby.
"Faint pulse, but he's still alive. The rest?"
"Three didn't survive the exorcism, but the remaining five are demon-free and waiting in the squad room. Including him," Dean gestured at the unconscious body in front of them, "that's nine total. Meg's still at large."
"Dumfries Police Department was made up of twelve officers," supplied Hotchner. "Counting the two who died yesterday, Captain Wards is the only left."
"She must have gone to the basement, where she might be holding Sam and JJ, when we started storming this place," said Dean.
Bobby felt the weight of the look Agent Hotchner gave him and Dean before the man seemed to reach a decision. "You two go on and check the basement then. I'll take Sergeant McLean back to the squad room."
He understood the trust that Hotchner was giving them. Trading a glance with Dean, the two gave Hotchner an understanding nod as they parted way. Before they were completely out of earshot, Bobby could hear the man telling Reid and Prentiss through their comms to regroup in the squad room.
xxxxxx
They had just finished drawing the Devil's Trap in front of the entrance when Hotch's attention was caught by Reid's voice over his comms. "We're in position and ready."
Looking to Dean for a signal and seeing a thumb's up from him, Hotch replied, "On three. One…" He and Dean took the point position with Morgan and Henriksen close behind. "Two…" In his peripheral vision, he could see Henriksen getting ready, shotgun in one hand and a canister of salt in the other. Dean beside him also had one hand on the entrance door, ready to slam it open. "Three!"
CRASH! They stormed through the entrance; the shotgun blast Dean fired tore through the ceiling of the station, raining debris down in front of them. An officer came into view, likely to investigate the commotion, and her eyes flickered solid black at the sight they must have made. Behind him and Dean, Henriksen and Morgan quickly threw down a line of salt in front of the doors the four had just come through.
Letting out a growled, the demon flicked her hand to the side just as Hotch fired at her. She flew backwards, slamming into an approaching demon as Dean flew to the right, where her hand had indicated, his shotgun clattering to the floor. With the salt line in place, Henriksen ran to check on Dean while Morgan and Hotch continued to fire at the demons, now five in total, pressing the demons back towards the squad room, where the rest of those possessed were probably lying in wait.
Bang! Bang! Bang! "Come on, Reid, hurry," Hotch murmured under his breath as he dove for cover behind an officer's desk at the edge of the squad room, Morgan right behind him while Dean and Henriksen ducked behind an adjacent desk. The demons finally decided to make good use of the guns the bodies they were borrowing had.
As if Reid had heard his plea, the overhead PA system crackled to life.
"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolic…"
Loud roars filled the room as the angry storm of bullets stopped coming at them. Guns clattered onto the marble-colored, epoxy coated floor. Bracing himself, Hotch raised his head up from behind the desk he was using as a shield to the sights of flailing demons. As Reid's voice continued broadcasting throughout the station, the demons in front of Hotch continued to twist and turn about, trying to block out the exorcism to no avail. One ran for the hallway leading to the other offices and conference rooms while another banged on a nearby window, trying to escape. Standing up in amazement, Hotch caught the attention of the female demon they had first encountered. Using the last bit of her energy, she let out a growl and made a pushing motion with her hand at him. Though he had seen it happened to Dean earlier, it still caught Hotch by surprise as he slammed backward into Morgan who had stood up behind him.
An oppressive black cloud condensed under the squad room ceiling as one by one, black smokes were forced from the screaming mouths of the possessed officers. Righting himself, Hotch caught sight of Chief Forker, still possessed, standing defiantly in the middle of the room. As if sensing his gaze, the blackened, soulless eyes stared back at Hotch before Chief Forker's neck was forcibly snapped to side as black smokes poured from his mouth. His body and those of the other officers slumped to the floor as a purplish light flickered throughout the swirling black cloud before it all erupted into a big orange fire, so bright that Hotch had to shield his eyes from the sight. Then, it was all over.
Aside from the sound of Reid's voice thundering throughout the station and their labored breathing, there was not another sound to be heard. The pungent odor of sweat and the metallic tang of blood assaulted Hotch's senses, and he had to steady himself on the desk in front of him for a moment, letting out a sharp exhale. Looking up at Morgan, Dean, and Henriksen, Hotch took in their tired and weary faces.
"It's over," said Morgan, voicing what they were all thinking. The statement seemed to break them out of the spell they were in, spurring the group to action once again. The four spread out across the room, each going to check on a fallen officer.
Hotch checked on Chief Forker, but there was never any hope that the man was still alive. The chief had died of a broken neck. The demon who had possessed him had taken one last life out of spite. Shaking his head despondently, Hotch moved on to the next officer, hoping for some good news. It took them all a few minutes to check on everyone the room. Aside from Chief Forker, there were only two other casualties, Detective Malone and Officer Jones. The other five officers in the room had thankfully survived the whole ordeal, though not necessarily unscathed.
As the surviving officers began to stir, Hotch gave the group another look. "There are only eight officers here. We're missing two."
"Meg's not here," added Dean.
"Morgan, Henriksen, you two stay here with the officers. Dean and I will check the hallway and basement." With affirming nods from the others, Hotch and Dean headed for the hallway leading to the other offices and conference rooms, leaving Morgan and Henriksen to tend to the officers who were slowly regaining conscious.
They were rounding the corner of the hallway when they noticed the movements ahead. Slowing down Hotch drew his gun with Dean following suit as they crept up on the figures. At the sight of Bobby bending over the slumped body of Sergeant McLean, Hotch and Dean both lowered their guns.
"Is he still alive?" asked Hotch.
"Faint pulse, but he's still alive. The rest?" asked Bobby
"Three didn't survive the exorcism, but the remaining five are demon-free and waiting in the squad room. Including him," Dean gestured at the unconscious body in front of them, "that's nine total. Meg's still at large."
"Dumfries Police Department was made up of twelve officers," supplied Hotch. "Counting the two who died yesterday, Captain Wards is the only left."
"She must have gone to the basement, where she might be holding Sam and JJ, when we started storming this place," said Dean.
Hotch gave Bobby and Dean a weighted look. It would be the best course of action for the two hunters to continue on to the basement while he took Sergeant McLean back to the others. That way, the two could watch each other's back and the experienced hunters would be the ones dealing with the ringleader demon if she had managed to escape their earlier mass exorcism. Yet, that decision would also mean he was leaving a member of his team, JJ, unaccounted for still.
As much as he hated to admit it, Hotch was not the best choice to check the basement when he had two people who knew what they were doing standing in front of him, especially if him going in half-cocked might end up putting someone in harm's way. Fixing both hunters with a weighted stare, Hotch said, "You two go on and check the basement then. I'll take Sergeant McLean back to the squad room."
Bobby and Dean gave Hotch an understanding nod as they parted way. Turning to the unconscious body in front of him, Hotch let out an exhaled sigh as he holstered his gun before bending down to hoist McLean up. Once he had the sergeant over his shoulders in a fireman's hold, Hotch quickly tapped on his comms. "Reid, Prentiss, it's over. Regroup in the squad room."
Reid's voice had stopped broadcasting throughout the station and Morgan paused from speaking with a dazed Officer Jensen to give him a questioning look when Hotch entered the squad room with Sergeant McLean in tow. Hotch placed the sergeant, who was slowly coming to, on a nearby chair, his back cracking slightly from the previous strain as Hotch straightened up.
"Bobby and Dean are continuing to the basement. Reid and Prentiss should be joining us any minute," Hotch said, answering Morgan and Henriksen's silent questions.
Just as Reid and Prentiss were entering the squad room, Hotch's comms crackled to life again. "Sir, you and the others should head back to Laundromat HQ. There's something here you all need to see." Clear relief colored Garcia's voice.
xxxxxx
Trapped. Grace had been trapped inside her own body for nearly two weeks while that thing had taken over. She had taken an oath to protect and serve. Yet, ever since that thing had been inside of her, her body was forced to break her most furiously protected oath a hundred times over. Grace was reduced to a voiceless, powerless conscience floating in and out of conscious.
"Oh, do shut up before I get rid of you completely," said the demon in her body.
Before she could think of anything else, Grace was interrupted by a loud crash and bang from the entrance.
"Damn Winchesters!" growled the demon as Grace's body made its way to where the demented devil had detained her prisoners. Foregoing the use of keys altogether, the hellish being tore the decrepit metal door that was keeping her prisoners hostage aside like it was made of paper.
The moment Grace's body stepped into the dimly lit room, Grace felt the demon's anger and fury washed over her. Her supernaturally enhanced vision, courtesy of the possessing demon, focused on the haphazardly made hole in the wall across the room. "Damn Winchesters!" growled the demon again.
When the demon tried to go after her preys, Grace found her body trapped behind an invisible barrier. Knowing that there was nothing on the floor, the demon lifted Grace's head up to the ceiling, spying a crudely carved pentagram. "Clever Sammy."
Despite knowing that the demon had access to all her thoughts, feelings, and memories, Grace couldn't help but feel a little smug at their current mutual predicament. Now, aggravating demon would feel what Grace had to deal with for the past two weeks.
"You know, I don't need you alive to keep using your body," growled the demon. "If you don't keep quiet, I will snuff out your little life just for fun."
Grace's conscience faded away at the threat. It was just darkness and silence for a while until she was looking through her eyes again to the sight of two weary and wary men. (How she found the strength to be funny, she didn't know.)
"Dean," the demon purred at the younger man. "And the old man, you helped the Winchesters exorcised me last time."
"Well, I'm not exact flattered you remember me," replied the older man. "Excuse me if I don't introduce myself. Don't exactly need your kind knowing my name."
"Oh, but Bobby, Sammy already told me all about you the last time I was in his pretty little head," replied the demon innocently.
"Speaking of Sam, where's my brother, Meg," asked Dean as he pulled out an old revolver.
Waving Grace's arms around the basement, the demon replied, "As you can see, Dean, there's no one here but the three of us."
As Dean leveled the colt in front of him, ready to fire at Grace's head, the demon raised up Grace's finger as if she just remembered something. "Did I say three? I meant four. Pretty little Grace Wards is still in here." Grace could feel her finger tapping her temple though she had no control over it. "Are you ready to kill her too, Dean? I thought you Winchesters were in the 'saving people' business. Or is that just a lie you tell yourself so you could sleep at night?" taunted the demon.
Dean lowered the colt and concealed it behind him again in a huff. "Let's exorcise this bitch already, Bobby," he growled.
"Ooo, so impatient, Dean. But that's okay. I'll keep your place warm for you downstairs. After all, even if I don't escape again before that, you'll be joining us downstairs in a little over six months when the hellhounds come calling."
Grace could see Dean's face flushed with anger, but he appeared powerless do anything else while Bobby began to chant in Latin. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas..."
An all consuming pain shot through Grace's body that not even the demon was immuned to. It was as if fire and needles flowed through her veins in place of blood. Grace's could hear her screams vibrating through the basement. Her hands tried to block out the chanting with little success. Her head wrecked this way and that way before it lifted up towards the ceiling as she let out another roaring scream. Her mouth strained against the pressure of being kept wide open as thick black smokes shot out of Grace's mouth. After what seemed like forever, it was over, and Grace's body unceremoniously slumped to the floor.
She had little energy left to try and open her eyes. Fingers were on her throat, checking her pulse, but Grace couldn't concentrate on anything but her labored breathing and thumping heartbeat. She could hear Bobby and Dean talking above her head.
"Looks like Sam and JJ rescued themselves….have to follow the tunnel...can't carry the girl up the stairs…"
"...watch your back, Bobby…."
Grace could feel herself being lifted up and carried before it was just darkness again.
The next time Grace's eyes opened, it was an action that she had controlled. She couldn't help but feel relieved at that, and she struggled not to burst into tears then and there. Someone had placed her in one of the chairs in the squad room. As her eyes swept across the room, Grace took in the similarly haunted faces of her colleagues. Her heart broke at the sight of Frank Forker, Cassie Malone, and Billy Jones's bodies laid off to the side.
Grace's attention was drawn by Agent...Hotchner talking to his agents and Dean...Winchester near the hallway leading to the entrance. "We need to leave. Garcia has something."
"But what about them?" asked the tall, skinny agent, Dr...Reid, as he gestured at Grace and her colleagues.
Bracing a hand on the desk in front of her and using it as support, Grace pushed herself up off the chair. "We'll be fine. You go do what you need to," she said as the agents all turned to her. She didn't want to do anything except for maybe sleep for an entire year, but with Forker gone, her people needed her, and she had to step up. It was the least she could do after what she, or her body, was responsible for for the past two weeks.
"If you're sure…" said Agent Hotchner hesitantly.
No, she wasn't sure at all, but Grace nodded away. After lingering for just a beat, the five FBI agents and Dean Winchester hurried out of the room.
