THEN: The boys argue in an old house about Sam's "extracurriculars" when the house suddenly shivers around them.
As if on cue, the musty old house rattled and shook in reply.
The battles for the day, it seemed, were not finished.
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Chapter 2
The boys' footing slipped and each fell from the tumult around them.
"Are you doing this?!" Dean cried as he tried to maintain his balance against the stair banister.
"NO!" Sam yelled back, equally balancing himself by hugging the archway where he stood.
"Well, I had to ask!" Dean said, just dodging a falling banister. "God knows I love your surprises!"
Sam, struggling to get out of the way of the splintering wood that was breaking around him, too, was shocked that Dean could still be sarcastic at times like these.
"Forget it," Dean shouted. "Let's get out of here!"
"Right," Sam responded, covering his face with the front of his button-up in order to block accidental dust inhalation.
Sam ran behind his brother out of the crumbling house. Neither stopped to look behind them until their feet hit the withering lawn in front of it.
In synch, each brother turned behind them to behold the house's epic display, which could only be described in three words.
"Steven fudgin' Speilberg!" Dean yelled into a sudden blast of raging wind.
"What?!" Sam shouted, his gaze firmly cemented on the disaster happening in front of him.
Dean ignored him and gripped his brother's shoulder as he watched the house shiver and shake, lights exploding out of each window as if skylights had been placed behind them. His mouth fell open as he heard the sounds of breaking glass and twisting boards ricochet into his eardrums. Finally, as if by some invisible hand from the sky, the roof of the house slowly crushed into itself and the boys could do nothing but watch.
"What's happening?" Sam asked the obvious, suddenly aware that a clear sky contradicted with the chaos in front and the frigid winds all around them.
No sooner was his question asked that all became clear. Literally and figuratively. The house and wind stilled. The noise ceased. The wrath of an angry god subsided for the response that waited in the distance.
"Now that I have your attention," a little girl cooed. A friendly giggle danced along the now tepid winds.
Dean and Sam's eyes met for only a split second before they turned around sharply, each deftly reinstating their warrior stances against a familiar enemy. As brothers should, they stood side by side, guns raised, and each pair of hazel eyes narrowed while Dean snarled at the ten-year-old in pigtails.
"Bitch."
Lilith winked. "Howdy, pardner!" Dressed in boots and a denim dress, Lilith tipped a disturbingly pink cowboy hat at the hunters that stood before her. Lilith's casual tone and innocent appearance grated against what she really was – a demon who brought blood in rivers that was just a part of her as those curly, blond rivulets around her. "Are ya fixin' to do me in good this time, boys?"
Lilith put a hand at her hip, casually waiting as if she had just asked the time.
Sam fired. He couldn't do anything else.
The bullet zoomed to its target, but slowed to rest upon the tip of Lilith's butterfly eyelashes.
"Oh, no!" Lilith faked horror, bringing a delicately small hand over her mouth. "Ya almost got me there, Sam!" She giggled another sick sound and smiled a buck-toothed smile. "You, of all people, should know that bullets can't stop people like us!"
Dean didn't hesitate and fired a round. Once again, the bullet slowed to rest in the air.
"Seriously! Boys, now you're just being silly!" With a slight flick of her wrist, the diminutive girl sent the second bullet flying backwards, straight into Dean's shoulder.
Dean didn't fall. He didn't scream and shout like they do in the movies. In real life, bullets hurt like hell but they didn't topple you over. And neither would he. As the bullet tore into his flesh, he took a small step back, slowly looking down at the emerging stain on his white T-shirt, disbelief in his eyes.
"She shot me…" Dean muttered, biting his lip from what originally felt like a bee sting that had now transformed into blistering fire on his shoulder.
"Dean!" Sam cried out to his brother, his eyes widening in panic. Not again, not again, not death, not hell no, not again.
With his left arm, Sam caught his now swaying brother, while the right arm still held the gun on Lilith.
"Awww," Lilith clapped her hands in delight. "Sammy's got revenge on one side and," Lilith gagged a little at her next words, "love on the other. Yuck!"
Pleased with her attempt at poetic observation, Lilith continued, "What will he choose?"
Sam felt his knees beginning to buckle beneath him, the weight of his weakening brother bringing him down, down, further into the rotting grass.
"Wow," Lilith continued her rant. "He really IS holding you down!"
Sam clenched his teeth against her viciousness, splitting his gaze between the falling brother at his side and the snickering little girl that grew taller with each passing moment.
"Sammy, I'm fine," Dean sputtered between shortened breaths. "Don't let this bitch get to you." Dean had dropped his gun and was now pushing back the blood from his own gaping wound. The pain was suddenly too much and Dean surrendered his entire weight to the floor, bringing his younger brother to kneel next to him.
"Dean, you're really hurt," Sam said quickly.
"Forget it. Get Lilith. It's just a scratch," Dean lied. The minute the bullet had seared into him, Dean knew that his injury was serious. If he didn't see a hospital soon…Dean shut his eyes and the thought. "God, just go!"
Lilith laughed at the brotherly display. What girl wouldn't want the handsome Winchesters fighting over her? This was just too good.
"Yeah, Sam," she mocked. "Come and get me! That is…" she locked her hands behind her and innocently rocked back and forth, "if you can."
From his kneeling position at his brother's side, Sam looked into Dean's eyes for any sign of help and was met only with an angry, cold stare.
Dean cried through the pain and frustration, "Kill the bitch!"
Sam shook his head. "I ca-can't," he sputtered. "Bullets won't— "
Sam froze at Dean's look of "Are you kidding me?!" despite the pain he was in. God how could he be so stupid? Ruby's knife was still tucked away in his waistband! All Sam would need is to get close enough to Lilith to stab in through her heart or any other place where a vital organ could be ruptured.
With a look of understanding, Sam nodded as Dean clutched his shoulder and signaled Sam, one final time, to go.
No longer torn between but embracing both love and revenge, Sam gripped the gun in his right and brought his body up out of the soot and weeds surrounding him. Lilith watched merrily as Samuel Winchester, dirt staining his jeans and skin preparing to add new scars, rose higher and higher to stand before her – a face off to end them all.
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