High Noon – 6
by: sifi.
OOooOO
Devil's Gate Dam – Hahamonga Watershed Park – Pasadena Ca.
"Oh this is bogus man, seriously, would you look at that?" Mercy whispered harshly in the faint orange light of sunrise. She pointed toward a section of rock that was encased beside a gate, "What were they afraid someone was going to come and chisel the face of Satan off the mountainside?" she groused.
"Most likely. Your kind does tend to fear change more than most other creatures," Marax smiled.
"Save your ire for the cultsmen," Aeshema advised motioning toward the literal gate that stood beside the encased once upon a monument.
"I can't believe we wasted so much time going after them at the leaders' house and they weren't even there," Gary frowned as his foot slipped off a slick rock nearly sending him tumbling down the jagged slope.
Effortlessly Marax grabbed the mans' sleeve, giving him the stability to right himself "Indeed, how rude. At least we know where to find 'em," the educator smiled.
One of the sidhe warriors on his right stopped, crossing his spear against further movement.
"Take cover," Marax directed at the warriors' instruction.
They split into two groups of four, each consisting of one human, one demon, and two sidhe, and took up station on either side of the gate as human voices echoed from within. Every one of them had weapons drawn, their bodies were coiled, their muscles taut and ready to spring forth at the first sight of the cult members.
The voices drew nearer the opening and they all drew further back waiting as cackling laughter rolled out into the open. Shadows moved in the darkness, slowly emerging into the light as blue jeans and flannel shirts, orange safety vests and municipal hard hats became visible.
On the far side Aeshema, one of many incarnations of demon family of wrath let loose a battle cry that cut through every member of the waiting strike team, feeding their need to kill. As the eight descended on the emerging dam workers, guns firing, spears flying, knives slashing, the eight men and women who were about to start their work day, never even had a chance to fight back.
Shaking their way out of the murderous rage that had spurred them on, Aeshema's rolling laughter hammered home exactly what had happened. Covered in blood, Mercy and Gary shared realization and moved as one toward the laughing demon, barely held back by the sidhe who also had fallen under the demons' spell.
Marax crossed to the female host, his own fury visible in the twist of his hosts' features, "Aeshema! You have jeopardized everything!"
"Oh relax y'old fart… nobody's here, this place is a wash. All we have to do now is see if there's an actual gateway in there, you think we coulda done that with those meat-sacks hanging around?" she argued pointing at the pile of body parts.
"Oh God…" Mercy pressed her hands to her face as tears coursed down her cheeks, "Oh God what did we do?" she asked Gary who wrapped his arms around her.
"You sadistic bitch I'm gonna rip your god damned head off!" he snarled.
"Awww…" she cocked her head to the side smirking, "Still feeling a little wrathful? Bring it on human… let's see how well you do after I set you loose on your girlfriend there huh? Wanna see her head in a box?" she sneered, "What's in the booooooox… now THAT was a movie!"
"You BITCH!" He lurched against Mercy who also held him back along with the sidhe.
Around them the woods and rocks burst out laughing, and for a moment as they froze, listening to the sound they thought that somehow it really WAS nature laughing at them until one by one the members of the Cult of Ninurta rose from their hiding places surrounding the small hunting party.
"See the help we get? We didn't even have to get our hands dirty this time," the apparent leader grinned as they moved in on the stunned group.
"Ask and we shall receive huh?" one of them added happily.
"I prefer to work hands-on," another of them smiled pointing a .9mm at Mercy's head as he drew closer, "and I like 'em feisty, weapons down, that includes your fairy guards too."
"I thought there were four of them?" Yet another member asked looking around.
"Son of a bitch!" The apparent leader cursed looking at the two who'd remained to try and give cover to their brethren as they slid into hiding to wait. "Get 'em back here!" He ordered.
"We can't," Marax came forward, "If we lose contact with part of the party they're on their own, in this case, that's us. That way there's no unnecessary losses."
The leader seemed to buy the explanation and motioned with his gun toward the gate once another of their members was done collecting the weapons, "Alright, everyone inside," he directed.
.9mm man's hand snaked out grasping Mercy by the hair, snagging her out of Gary's grip and holding her in front of himself with his gun pressed into the back of her head, "Try anything and we'll start playing catch with her cranium get it?"
Gary nodded and with the rest of the party headed into the dam.
OOooOO
Memory of fire brought more pain than the corpse around her could feel, but as she lay back watching the flames fill the writing on the back of the doors, illuminating it, and as those words filled what was left of her mind she knew there was only one thing that could be done. They had to be endured one more time.
All four panels were alight with the first written language of the Gods until she knew those words by heart. Need enabled her to roll forward again, the clacking sound of the bones of the body that kept her prisoner, when they hit the stone floor would have sent shudders through her, if there'd been muscles to twitch.
He can't… my love won't save me this time, he needs to know… they, THEY need to know. It will take them both. This is why I came, THIS is what's important.
Once more inches slid beneath the charred torso that was all that remained of her once earthly form, and once more she reached toward the doors, the presence of any but the queen igniting fires that shot white hot columns more than a dozen feet into the air. I can do this… I can't do this. No choice, please don't let me feel it, please… and she would have cried if there'd been moisture in the husk.
Her reach was tentative, the feathered tips of the fingers turning instantly to dust in the impossible heat then starting to catch at the larger finger bones, I have to be fast then… she pulled what was left of the extremity out of the flames and tried to examine the gate, looking for a latch, a lock, anything but finding nothing.
Could it be that simple? She wondered, once more sending the sacrificial limb to do her will. As the white licked the bones, turning them glowing red from within she pushed and felt the gate move. Good God, the only thing that keeps anyone prisoner here is the fire isn't it? How will I escape the underworld, it's so far between each gate… the task already seemed too much. If she made it out of the seventh gate, how could she manage to get to the sixth and past the gallas there? And at each successive gate? And when she would come to stand outside the first gate, if she made it that far, she would have no body. They'd've had to burn me by now, how can I tell them what they need to know? She wondered letting her eye socket fall to the floor where bits of debris and singed bone danced through her field of vision. I can't. It's too much.
"One step at a time, sometimes it's all we can do," it was Dean's voice in her memory from a long ago moment when she was still new to hunting and had to bear her first failure.
Whatever it was that was trapped inside the corpse, consciousness, mind, soul; that part could still taste the spicy sweetness of his kisses, could still smell every faint particle that made his scent unique, and could still feel the solid, strong, gentle warmth that wrapped around her when they could be together.
The sacrificial limb shot through the flames impacting with the gate, rocking it forward a couple inches. It shot forward again, the phalanges, metacarpals and wrist bones crumbling on impact as the bones of the forearm skidded over the metal, a tiny bony prominence catching in one of the carved symbols of the ancient language, serving to shove the door forward again, another couple inches.
Another couple inches of flooring slid by and once more the limb shot out, this time crumbling half way down both of the forearm bones, all else blown away as ash as this time the door slid open enough to stop the fire, and just enough for her to squirm through.
Relatively certain there would be no more fire, she reached out with the skeletal remains of her left hand and clutched the edge of the gate on the left. Somehow, she pulled, whatever was left of the right forearm flailing haphazardly like some unruly loosely jointed Halloween decoration until it landed on the right side gate.
She wasn't sure if it was possible in her state, but later, she might think that she'd screamed as the burning orange-pink of molten copper poured into her awareness for a time.
OOooOO
The Finger Lakes – New York State.
"Oooh! Hey a little CARE here!" Tim Connolly turned his head as a glut of blood soaked intestine slid out, half onto the pile of ash he was examining.
"Sorry," one of the EMT's apologized sheepishly grimacing at the sight of the interna that managed to dangle from the slash in the teen's body.
"There are BONES in here dipshit…" Tim snarled again as the lead analyst approached.
"Bones?"
"Yeah George, I had a couple of phalanges and what looked like actually a couple of teeth."
"So what you think this is someone's ashes?" he asked.
"Looks like, I've just never seen any this… fine," he shook his head then explained, "I mean the average cremation occurs over about an hour and a half at a temperature of what? 900 degrees Celsius right? You get fine powder yeah, and a few odd fragments of the more heavily calcified bones, but this…" he pressed a cotton swab into the ash pile, amazed at its strange characteristics, it was finer than anything he'd seen before but it felt strangely dense too.
"I just don't get it," he shook his head.
"Did it burn extra hot or extra long?" his supervisor asked.
"Or not long enough? I don't know."
"Find out," George patted him on the shoulder and moved on to the next area of the crime scene.
"Find out he says," Tim shook his head and started carefully bagging the now sodden ashes.
OOooOO
Jerome, Idaho.
"Ammit, you're with me," Shep nodded then looked at Tom, "You take twinkie and ho ho over there and get to the second house on the list," then motioned to the other two sidhe warriors that gazed at him with cocked eyebrows and expectant expressions, "Hey don't blame me, they're the ones with the hostess fetish," he shook his head, "You two take the third address, we'll meet at the fourth in forty five minutes."
"I'm not leaving you alone with a demon," Tom protested then looked the Egyptian, "No offense."
Ammit shook his hosts' bald head, well accustomed to such prejudice.
"No choice little man, now do as I say."
"Like hell!" Tom argued motioning to the demon, "He EATS souls!"
"Souls of the damned … ain't a thing to worry about, ain't that right Ammit?" Shep asked hiding a wink at the ancient creature.
"Oh there's plenty of damned souls to be had… I don't think I'll have room for Mr. McGregor," Ammit smiled then nodded to Tom, "We're here with the same purpose Mr. Daykin, besides, why would I want to piss off the Chosen one by screwing with either one of you? Your history together is written in your blood."
Tom stepped toe to toe with the demon, "Set one bit of that demon dust of yours out of line and I'll put one of these puppies in your eye socket so fast you won't have time to think about blinking," he held up his gun complete with the RedBird bullets the boys had found in John's locker in New York.
The ancient Egyptian demi-god inclined his head slightly, "You have my word."
"Alright boy y'made your point… we gotta get movin' we got six houses to check, now GO!" Shep shoved Tom toward the Hostess twins as he'd come to think of the two sugar loving warriors.
Once they were alone Shep tossed a half smile at the host beside him, "Unless you got some way to get inside without picking a lock…" he asked.
Ammit shook his head, "I can't speak to your future, but as of yet you've nothing to worry about."
Shep turned a sharp eye to him.
"You know by now some of us are not what many of your kind have been led to believe," he started.
"Yeah," Shep nodded.
"Intention really IS everything," he continued, "Those things you've protected Mr. Daykin from taking part in or knowing you've done… and the reason for doing those things… so far as yet Mr. McGregor, you can rest easily, your soul is not for damnation."
"How can you really know?" he asked, I've killed humans who's only real crime was an intent to kill an innocent man, they hadn't even acted on it yet.
"I have been judge, jury and when necessary executioner. It's what I was made for," he nodded at the back door, "Now, we are called to our duty once more."
Shep shook his head tapping his tool quickly then quietly opening the door, "You're an odd duck man you know that?" he asked.
Ammit grinned, his teeth almost glowing white in the darkness as he followed the human inside the frontier house, "Quack."
OOooOO
"Oh man," Tom breathed, his eyes fixed to the pile of bloody parts that littered the basement, "Anyone else in the house?" he asked ho ho, who shook his head.
"Any idea who did it?" he asked watching the warriors talk in that rushing-water way they called language. It didn't take long before they seemed to agree and turned to face the human. Ho ho pantomiming what could only be something huge and ferocious and the marauder.
"You really think it was him?" Tom breathed sitting down on the steps, his legs suddenly weak for a moment as they nodded, "You guys were there when he attacked your realm weren't you?"
Again they nodded.
"Let's get back to Shep," he pushed himself to his feet as they opened the veil.
OOooOO
I-86 – Southern Edge of Massacre Rocks National Park – Idaho.
"This doesn't feel right," Ammit, shook his hosts' head as they stepped onto the blacktop of I-86, less than a hundred yards from the cut through the bulging tower of rock. He looked down to the sidhe compliment, all four of whom also seemed apprehensive, "I think we need to wait and watch, something feels off," he looked back to Tommy and Shep, both of whom were watching him as well as the sidhe.
"Y'know I kinda got a similar feeling…" Shep nodded.
"Set up?" Tommy asked softly.
All six of the others nodded as two of the small warriors turned, preparing to open the way back into the veiled realm that would offer them protection.
It was as if the earth herself held her breath as a vibration rumbled the ground, and each of them noticed the sensation of pressure from above, as if something enormous was trying to flatten them into the ground.
Two of the sidhe raised their arms, doing their level best to open the way but the force of the encroaching winds barely allowed them to remain on their feet.
"Get that passage open!" Ammit ordered scanning the skies for the beast's approach.
"Do you see it?" Tom asked.
"How can something that big be freakin' invisible!" Shep asked nervously, "Get the sidhe in the middle!" He ordered over the bellowing of the rising winds.
There was a quick shifting of position and finally the two attempting to sever the veil were able to maintain their footing long enough to perform their task.
"Anybody see ANYTHING!?" Tom shouted, barely able to hear himself. Whatever was coming was huge enough to tremble the earth even as the skies shook. Rocks danced, and their teeth rattled with the vibration of its impending arrival, and in a single heartbeat, just as the sidhe opened the way behind the veil, the very ground itself began to rise, bubbling and folding outward.
"Holy shit! It's under us! Go Go Go!" he shouted, shoving his compatriots behind him.
"Noooo!" a voice screamed as the earth released the creature.
OOooOO
Clifton, NJ.
"I'll go with Pazuzu here, you go with two of the sidhe," he pointed at Sam, then indicated Yokai, "you go with the other two," Dean directed, "Meet us back here in half an hour."
Each of the other two teams nodded their understanding. Dean met Sam's gaze, a nod passed between the two before the veil was opened and the three teams parted ways.
"How do you know I won't try to kill you?" Imdugud asked as he and Dean headed toward this area's Cult Leader's house.
"I don't, and I'm pretty sure you don't need anyone's help to do your part to save the universe," Dean shrugged.
"but?"
"No buts," Dean shrugged, "Look seriously? I'd rather you didn't. I mean I'm kinda really still not fully recovered from the whole crossroad demon deal last year and just how close that all came, I mean dude, I'm thirty with grays okay?" he frowned tilting his head so the creature could see, "Then that blonde haired doll faced bitch that nearly killed me last week… man… last WEEK! Where does time go?" he asked, then shook his head, "As crazy as it sounds… I think that since you were literally created to be evil, then you get the balance more than any of these ex-human demonic converts do, and you're savvy enough to know that your welfare is tied in with the welfare of the universe… as in if IT doesn't exist… YOU don't exist…"
"Still doesn't explain why you think I won't try to kill you," it persisted.
Dean felt no malice in its voice, no malicious intent at all, he KNEW the creature wouldn't kill him, and as the answer came to him with a wry smile he turned to face the man that housed the ancient being, "Sam would laugh at this."
It cocked its host's eyebrow, genuinely curious.
Dean shook his head, "I just have faith." He turned the knob slowly opening the door, "You sure I want you behind me?" he asked.
Imdugud's host smirked, "It would damage the balance between your King and I if I tried to bring you harm."
Dean drew his gun and indicated the stairs creeping stealthily toward them, listening intensely for any signs of movement in the early morning hour.
Taking the stairs two at a time on the outer edge to reduce his noise he began his ascent.
These are people… he took a shaky breath, they're human… 'a man who resorts to killing another man, is one who's lost his will to find another way,' his father's voice rolled back and forth in his head. "Yeah well you weren't there dad," when he tried, and it honestly didn't take much effort, he could feel that whip interwoven with those steel bearings and the crushing force behind it as the thing wearing his baby brother's face beat him. Or the blade that cut rungs into the tender underside of his arms as they'd been bound over head. And he tried not to think about the slashes across Laura's body, or how the blade was sheathed between the layers of her flesh by the time she was untied and struggling to rise against his restraining hand.
He reluctantly turned his thoughts away from the woman he'd failed to save and back to the task at hand. We don't have a choice, trying to do this any other way would just be sloppy and bite us in the ass just as sure as Gordo took a chunk out of my neck that night. I tried it your way Sammy, you were pretty brilliant little brother, getting him busted by the cops that way… but you should've let me kill him. Thanks dude for trying a different way.
At the turn of the hallway he froze, motioning Imdugud to halt. A moment later he shook his head motioning them forward once again.
Room by room they searched the upper level of the house, finding the beds made and nothing appearing to be amiss.
"Think they're somewhere else?" he asked as his cell began to vibrate.
OOooOO
It's finally here, Sam felt his breathing grow heavy and fast in his chest as he lowered himself to the basement stairs while the sidhe with him walked through the swaying forest of bodies, probably seeking a remnant of life. But Sam knew better.
"They're dead… don't bother," he waved his hand disgustedly, memories of one of the nightmares plaguing him for the last year and a half now come to fruition.
He didn't even need to look around. From the first moment he'd set foot into the Colonial style house and seen those yellow kitchen curtains with their white pompons glowing in the moonlight he knew what they'd find.
Closing his eyes he knew what he'd see from this vantage point. Sitting on the stairs with the wind knocked full body out of him, his mouth hung open, his eyes watering as he took in the sight of a massacre. There were sixteen different bodies; men, women and children. From the I-Beams overhead hung the bodies of seven adults, all of them stripped naked. All but one of them slashed wide open from throat to groin with their entrails spilling out on the floor, smearing black puddles of blood.
On the floor were the children. Nine of them, boys and girls mixed, three of them under a year old, all of them beheaded and eviscerated.
'Oh God… I ordered this,' he thought, 'This is MY fault… MY doing… oh GOD… it was never supposed to be children, there were NEVER supposed to be children involved or hurt, or … Dad was right,' he thought, 'Dean should have killed me. He should have let me stay dead.'
He jumped when a sidhe tapped on his knee, his pantomime easily understood.
"It's still my fault," Sam shook his head.
The scowls and frowns on the faces of both sidhe tried to convince him otherwise, and remind him that they'd come for the very purpose of killing the cult members.
"They killed their own CHILDREN!" he screamed leaping to his feet, dragging the closest warrior beside him until they stood above a lost infant, "They HAD to have known we were coming! and LOOK! It's MY fault!" he raged pulling his blade and slicing through the nooses one by one.
His mind flew back to his first experience with the cult of Ninurta, strung up on an I-Beam by his wrists, whipped, bled, drugged, cut, beaten, until Dean had come to his rescue. He'd almost lost Dean that night too, to Alana, the hermaphrodite leader of that area's branch. She'd been poised to plunge her athame into his heart and with the last of his coherent thought Sam envisioned the blade flying from that cruel hand to embed itself into the mortar of the wall, leaving his brother alive to save him.
"Find me every drop of accelerant around the house, go upstairs and turn on the gas, don't ignite it," he directed and started tearing apart the basement, spraying the bodies with every flammable liquid he could find, from paint thinner to lacquer, to charcoal lighter fluid. He even threw charcoal briquettes onto the pile and blew out the pilot light of the water heater, letting the room fill up with gas too while he returned to the stairs and sat.
His lungs were dried and burning from the fumes being held in the lower level of the house by the time the sidhe warriors literally pulled him to his feet and forced him up the stairs, out into what was left of the night. One of the warriors smacked the backs of his knees, dropping him onto them in the cool refreshing grass, then dug through his pockets until it came clear with his phone.
The other grasped his tear shiny face between his hands, his eyes boring into Sam's, he was unmistakably lecturing the young man. When he was sure he had his attention, he stepped down from where he'd been standing on Sam's thighs, not just pantomiming but somehow the descendant of Marduk was almost sure he could understand the warrior even if he couldn't make out the words he was saying.
Clasping his hand at the small warriors neck and shoulder Sam nodded, He's right, there's a job to do. I never would have ordered the deaths of children… I don't think. But even so, this is war, and in war children sometimes die too. He rose to his feet, a fresh volley of tears streaking his face though whether it was due to the noxious fumes he'd been saturated in, or his sorrow over the most tragic of all casualties even he wasn't sure.
The second warrior tapped his hand then pressed a Molotov cocktail into it. He touched his forehead to Sam's then watched the chosen one light the rag and toss the bottle through the tiny window they'd left open to the basement.
Beneath them the ground shook as Sam stood transfixed. A moment later his phone was pressed into his hand, ringing on the other end.
"Sam? S'up?" Dean asked.
"They're all dead," he croaked into the phone, closing the device before Dean could ask a question. He turned to the sidhe, "Open the way please."
Devil's Gate – Clifton, NJ.
"Didn't dad take down a demon here? He would've closed whatever gate there was right?" Sam asked frowning his uncertainty, working hard to make sure Dean couldn't see through his game face.
"Mmm," Dean shrugged peering through the foliage toward the run-off ditch where the entrance to the sewer was.
It was early morning and something didn't feel quite right to the older hunter.
"You got those extra senses of yours open Sammy?" he asked.
"Dean," he huffed in a whisper then noting the looks of expectation around him from the others in their party nodded, "The only thing NOT open is my fly alright?"
Dean's look of surprise at his little brothers' cranky come back was priceless.
"I can change that if you want," Yokai winked at him with Madison's clear brown eyes.
"I'm good thanks," he declined as Imdugud and the sidhe chuckled lightly.
"See anything?" the demigod asked Dean, peering over his shoulder, looking left as he looked right, then right as he turned left.
The elder brother shook his head, "Sense anything?"
"Nothing," Imdugud frowned, "It is… perplexing."
The two men looked at each other, Dean pulling back a bit, "Y'know you are one scary sexy demigod, but do you mind getting off my back? I don't swing that way."
"It's a shame," the ancient one smiled, wiggled his hosts' eyebrows and kissed Dean's cheek before backing off.
Sam's head cocked to the side and his teeth began to chatter as he stepped past Dean and Imdugud, a few steps closer to the sewer tunnel. His chest started to hitch, his breathing rasping in and out as if he'd run a mile in under five minutes.
"Guh…" he clutched his head and fell to his knees, "Dean!" he cried breathlessly, curling around himself in the spillway.
"Sam? Sammy?" Dean lurched to his little brothers side, holding him up against the quaking that kept trying to fold him like a beach towel, "What's goin' on Sam?" he asked.
"Guuuuahhhhh!" the young hunter screamed.
"Sam what is it?" Dean asked.
He looked up at his brother panting and in obvious agony, "Dean, it's Tom."
--
tbc.
Please R&R.
Thanks.
sifi.