Chapter 23: Once More Into the Fire

Clara Hoffkins only prayed that this plan would work. If not, then...

Then Jessica must be sacrificed too, a voice whispered in her head.

"When Dean finds you, he's going to kill you. You know that, right?" Sam asked from the passenger seat. His hands were tied in front of him and he kept eyeing the gun lying in the woman's lap, but he wasn't going to make a move that would get him killed.

"I realize that your brother is the equivalent of a mad dog," Clara replied, "but he's part of my plan as well."

"What?" Sam asked.

"Look, kid," she answered, "I'm not about to give my whole plan away. Just sit tight. It will all fall into place."

"So I'm the bait," Sam concluded.

"Something like that," Clara replied.

As they drove, now in silence, Sam began to recognize the way to Free Hope Church. Silently, he began to wonder where Dean was and if he was alright. Sam had been trying for some time to get a hold of Jessica to see if her spirit had made it back to her body, but so far, there was no connection. This worried Sam, too, because if he could get a hold of Jessica, then he could send a message to his brother.

He's gone.

Those were the only words John Winchester's mind could register. Empty bed, empty room...

Gone... because I wasn't here...

"Come on," he heard Dean say from behind him, "If we hurry, we can still get there in time."

John turned. The fiery look in his elder son's eyes was alarming, but comforting in a way. It gave him strength. He couldn't show weakness. Not now. Not when his children needed him.

"Where are we going?" John asked from the passenger seat of the Impala.

"The well," Dean answered, "The gateway."

Of course, John thought, She wants to use Sam's soul to break open the gateway and release the spirits inside.

Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot of Free Hope Church. It had begun to rain softly. The two men got out of the car silently.

"Be ready for anything," Dean warned, "Sometimes the spirits will try to pull you in."

"Son, please," John replied, "Don't patronize me. I'm always on my guard. Now come on. Let's go save your brother."

"Yes, Sir," Dean answered softly.

Dean led the way down the trail to the well, quickly but cautiously, gun held firmly in his hand. Because of the rain clouds there was no moon and the dark night made it difficult to see.

Dean felt guilty for talking to his father like he had. He had been upset and angry at himself and had taken it out on his dad. After this was over, he would need to apologize.

The well was just up ahead. Even though he couldn't see it clearly, he could sense it. Slowly, the two men came into the clearing; the only sound was the soft patter of rain in the trees.

"I knew you would come, Dean, but I didn't know that you were bringing a friend."

The two Winchesters spun in unison to face the woman who was speaking. John saw that she was probably middle-aged. The clouds above parted just long enough to allow the moonlight to give him a good long look at her.

"Thought you knew everything," Dean said to her.

"Okay, so I lied," she replied with a smile, "I did know."

"Where's Sam?"

"Around."

"Enough with the cryptic bullshit," Dean snapped, levelling his gun at Mrs. Hoffkins, "Tell me where he is."

"What if I told you he was dead?"

"I'd say you were lying."

"How do you know?" Clara asked.

"Because I'd sense it," Dean answered confidently.

"You're not psychic."

"They're brothers," John interjected as if those words could explain any of life's mysteries, "They don't need to be psychic to sense each other. They have a stronger bond than that: blood."

Clara smirked. "Whatever that means. There is no bond in blood."

"Maybe for the cold-hearted," John replied, "but when it comes to family that care about and love each other, look out for each other, that bond is unbreakable, whether it be between siblings or parent and children. The fact that you killed your own daughter is a sacrilege against that bond."

"Shut-up!" Mrs. Hoffkins snapped, "You have no idea what I went through!"

"Save me the sappy story," John said, stepping forward," and tell me where my son is. Now!!"

Dean shivered. Was it just him or was the air getting colder? He looked around nervously. Something wasn't right. She wouldn't keep them talking this long... unless she was stalling for some reason.

"Dad!" Dean shouted in warning, but he had realized the truth too late.

The younger Winchester's gun flew from his fingers by an unseen force and he was thrown to the ground. John immediately spun to defend Dean, but there was nothing there. In the moment he hesitated he, too, was thrown off his feet. He watched in dismay as his gun flew into the well nearby. A faint splash echoed up from his depths.

"Dammit," he hissed, jumping up to his feet quickly.

His eyes scanned the trees, but nothing was there. He hurried to Dean's side.

"What is it?" he asked, pulling the younger man to his feet.

"A spirit," he replied, "Must be a guardian of some sort. Where's Hoffkins?"

"Over here."

The two men turned. Clara stood close to the well, Dean's gun in her hands. Sam was kneeling in front of her, hands bound behind his back but looking unharmed.

"Sammy," John breathed.

"Let him go," Dean hissed.

Sam was surprised to see their father, but at the same time he wasn't. Of course Dean had called him... but he had actually come? After all the time John Winchester had spent running away from them, he had actually come for once when they needed him? But now what were they going to do?

"Take another step," Clara warned, "and I'll put another bullet in him. This time through his head."

"You hurt him," Dean replied, "and no force in Heaven or Hell will protect you from me."

"Fine," she replied, lifting the gun and aiming at John, "What about him? You have a lot of anger toward this man. It's boiling off of you."

"Don't pretend to know me, even if you can read my mind," Dean answered.

John leapt aside as Clara pulled the trigger, the bullet narrowly missing him. Dean took advantage of the distraction and leapt at the woman. Sam saw her take aim at his brother and elbowed her in the stomach. She doubled over in pain and dropped the gun to the ground. Dean was able to kick the gun to the side as he threw himself on the woman.

"Sammy!" John hurried to his younger son's side, hurriedly untying his hands. "Are you alright?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam asked, wincing slightly as he stood; whatever painkillers he had been on in the hospital were beginning to wear off.

"Your brother called me."

"And you came?" Sam all but snapped. He immediately felt badly for the bitter words, but knew that he had sincerely meant them and could not take them back even if he had wanted to.

"Are you alright?" John repeated, his voice taking on a slightly harsher tone as he helped Sam to his feet.

"Yeah. I'm fine," Sam replied, his voice softening.

"Good. Now let's help your brother."

"Dad?" Sam stopped the older man despite the arguments they had had in the past. "I'm glad you came."

Dean was surprised by the woman's strength, although she was still no match for the much taller and stout young man. The only thing that he was worried about was the spirits around the well that seemed to come to Clara's aid.

"Let GO of me!" the woman screeched.

Dean felt his anger boiling up inside him again, so much so that he would have strangled the woman right there and not felt guilty for it. Luckily for her, but not Dean, she managed to pull her own gun from her jacket before he could wrap his fingers around her throat. Dean threw the woman off and she fell in front of the well. John dived for Dean's dropped gun, which was at Clara's feet, but she got to it first. Dean leapt forward to attack her, but halted when she cried,

"Stop! I'll kill one of them!"

Dean stopped and looked. One gun was aimed at his father and the other at Sam. His eyes darted between the two before settling back on Clara.

"Anyone makes a move," she warned, "and somebody gets a bullet. Simple as that. Now, here's the deal, Dean. Time to make a choice."

"A choice?" Dean asked.

"Yes. This well needs one more strong soul. Will it be your father or your brother?"

"What?" Dean breathed, a trickle of fear running through him and becoming a flood.

"I thought you needed my soul," Sam said, "A psychic soul?"

"Oh, but this is so much more fun," Clara said, turning to the youngest Winchester, "Wouldn't you agree?"

"You're twisted," John said menacingly, "Don't you regret anything that you've done?"

If I attacked now, could I disarm her? John thought, No. I can't risk it. Sammy could get hurt. Dean will have to figure this one out.

"Time's running out, Dean!" Mrs. Hoffkins snapped, "Pick one or they both die!"