Chapter Fifteen
Priestly sat on a chair in the Beach City Grill dining room, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He stared at the engagement ring in his hand, worrying about Tish. He should have just proposed already. At least then, Tish would know how much he loved her. Now, however, she would never know.
"We'll find her."
Priestly looked up at Sam, who stood next to him.
"We'll find all of them," Sam assured him. "I promise you."
Priestly looked back at the ring. "I shouldn't have left her alone."
"Dean—" began Sam, sitting next to him.
"She was my responsibility, and I left her alone," Priestly went on, bitterness all over his voice. "I should have protected her."
"Dean, you did the best you could," Sam told him.
Priestly shook his head, not believing him.
Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. "She's not dead yet, Dean. We will find her."
"I'm sorry."
Priestly and Sam both looked up to see John standing at the counter with a remorseful look on his face.
Sam frowned. "What?"
John took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" asked Sam.
"You were right," John told him. "Someone should have stayed behind."
Sam's expression shifted into understanding.
"It was a trap, and I fell for it," said John. "If I had just listened to you instead of jumping in like that—"
"You didn't know, Dad," Sam told him. "You made a good call."
John sighed, looking down at his feet in regret. "Just not the right one."
The small family sat in somber silence for a while. Priestly looked at John's guilty frown and then gazed over next to him at Sam's melancholy stare. He looked down at the ring he had bought for Tish, knowing that this guilt trip wasn't helping at all.
Priestly knew the two hunters had been dealt a harsh blow when the rescue attempt had resulted in the endangerment of even more civilians, namely Priestly's own friends. It had obviously sparked a similar feeling in the both of them: the familiarity of working so hard to save a life just to fail miserably. Fortunately, Priestly's amnesia provided him with an immunity of sorts, never having known what it was like to lose someone on a hunt like that. He knew it was up to him to get them fired up for the hunt once again.
Priestly tightened his fist around the ring, the bite of the hard metal against his palm giving him the courage to take charge. "Alright, you two, listen up."
John and Sam both looked up in surprise.
"I know that you're both sorry that this happened, and you're feeling let down by yourselves," Priestly told them. "But how many lives have you saved in this business? It's gotta more than outweigh the losses. We have all been trained how to take a bullet and keep on swinging."
John and Sam exchanged small smiles.
"So, what are we waiting for?" Priestly asked, a daring smile forming on his face.
John shared a hard, bold look with his two sons. "Let's find this bastard."
Priestly's smile morphed into a reckless smirk. "Yippee-kay-yay, mother—"
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Sam typed away on the computer, searching once again for demonic signs and omens in town.
Priestly sat at one of the tables, cleaning a few guns as John paced the room on the phone. "How's it going over there?"
Sam slammed his finger down on one last key in frustration. "Nothing, that's how it's going."
"Nothing?" asked Priestly, looking up at him.
"Nothing," Sam repeated, looking him solemnly in the eye.
"No, Caleb, that can't be right," John said into the phone. "You're telling me you haven't heard of anything around Santa Cruz?" He waited for a moment. "I don't care if Bobby's got the same intel! There has to be something!"
Priestly gazed back at Sam. "Sounds like Dad's having the same luck."
"Well, thanks for trying, Caleb," John sighed. "I appreciate it. Yeah, I will. Thanks." He hung up, running a weary hand over his face.
"Anything?" Priestly prompted, knowing what the answer would be.
John looked at him. "Well, Caleb said to tell you 'hi,' if that counts."
"So, you're about where we are," Priestly summarized.
"Well, we do know one thing," said John. "I think it's a safe bet that these demons are after us."
"The question is, why?" asked Priestly, reassembling the pistol in his hands.
John and Sam both gave him dubious looks.
"'Cause we're hunters," said Sam slowly.
"Well, yeah, we are, but is this demon just trying to knock the hunting community down a peg, or is it specifically after us 'cause we personally pissed it off?" Priestly pointed out, glancing up at them. As he finished making his point, he could have sworn he saw John's eyes widen in realization, as though putting the pieces together.
Sam shrugged, drawing Priestly's attention back to him. "All of the above?" He chuckled a little.
"What about the demon at that warehouse?" asked Priestly. "What did you do with her?"
"Locked her in a devil's trap," said Sam. "She's not going anywhere. We can probably get some information out of her."
"Alright, listen, boys," said John. "I'm gonna head back to that warehouse to grill her. Then, I'll be back at the motel to try to narrow things down."
Priestly nodded. "Alright, we'll work from here a while longer, maybe canvass the town."
"Good idea," Sam told him.
"Be careful," John told him. "We don't know who we're dealing with yet."
"Yes, sir," Priestly replied automatically as Sam chorused him.
John headed for the door. "Call if you find anything." He left the grill and got into the Impala, driving off.
"So…" began Priestly, sliding a magazine into the pistol's barrel, "where to, geek boy?"
Sam smiled fondly as he shook his head in mild irritation.
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Tish looked around the dark, dank basement they were being held in, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. She had woken up there a few hours ago, delighted to see that all of them were okay and yet frightened at what would happen next. Every half hour or so, a demon would come in and taunt them, threatening them. As far as Tish could see, there were at least three different demons, and from the way they talked, none of them were the big kahuna who had arranged this whole thing.
Tish looked over at Jeff, who held Jen close to him. Jen's wedding dress had been switched for some jeans and an old baseball tee. Julia sat with Noah and Piper nearby, crying into their embrace. Trucker sat next to Tish, arms crossed in silence. As though sensing her gaze, Trucker looked up at her and gave her a reassuring smile.
Tish had no idea how Jeff, Noah and Julia were taking this whole thing, but they were probably figuring out that this was something beyond a mere kidnapping. Tish tried to take comfort in the fact that, while each of them had some scrapes and bruises, they were all relatively okay—alive, even. That meant the demons needed them for leverage. And that brought her thoughts back to Priestly.
She had been noticing the changes in Priestly: the subtle shifts in aspects of his personality, the growing daredevil in him, the sense of duty from being a hunter. But even though the old him was beginning to emerge more and more, Tish could still see her Priestly underneath it all, the fire that fueled what was Dean. Any misgivings she had felt recently about Dean taking over and Priestly getting lost in there had slowly begun to fade in the past week. Tish knew her Priestly would always be there, whether Dean came back into the picture or not.
If only he would find us… Tish thought.
The basement door banged open, and one of the female demons Tish recognized stepped into the room.
"It's your lucky day, meat-sacks," said the demon, approaching the cell they were locked in. "The boss needs a favor. And one of you lucky kids is gonna help out. So, what do ya say?" She unlocked the cell, swinging the door open. "Who wants to come on down?"
Everyone sat in silence for a moment before Trucker slowly stood and stepped towards her.
"Congratulations, Gordon," said the demon. "You're the next contestant."
Tish watched him in shock as he left the cell. What is he doing?
While the demon was locking the cell back up, Trucker grabbed her head and slammed it against the bars. The demon spun around, trying to fight back against the surprise attack. She got in a few good hits to his face and torso before he finally knocked her out with several more head blows against the bars.
"Way to go, Trucker!" said Tish, standing with the others.
"You gotta stay here," Trucker told them.
"What?" exclaimed Noah. "No!"
"Who knows how many of them there are," Trucker explained. "If we all try to escape, they'll kill us. I have military training. I can get past them, fight a couple if I have to, and get to Priestly and his family. We need them if we're gonna make it out of here."
"What about us?" asked Jen hysterically.
"They need us to get to them," Trucker told her. "They won't kill you."
"At least take Julia," Noah pleaded. "Please."
Trucker gave him an apologetic look. "She's safer here. Trust me."
Noah nodded solemnly after a moment.
"Good luck," Jeff told Trucker.
Trucker went to the door, peeking down the hall before sneaking out, closing and locking the door behind him.
Tish sat back down against the cell wall as everyone else followed suit. She stared out the door after Trucker. Please be back…Please be back…
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Priestly pulled his car to a stop against the curb across from the grill. "I mean, a demon can't just vanish. They leave trails and signs. That's how it works. It's not like they can control that."
Sam sighed as Priestly pulled the parking brake. "Makes me wonder just how powerful this demon is."
Priestly frowned over at him. "What, like, we think we're after Luke Skywalker, but we're really dealing with Darth Vader?"
"Maybe," shrugged Sam.
"Well, that sucks." Priestly climbed out of the car, waiting for Sam to head around the car so they could head into the shop.
Sam closed the passenger door and walked towards the fender, suddenly freezing in his footsteps.
"Sam?" asked Priestly.
Sam turned his head and frowned at the face of the building he was standing in front of.
Priestly walked up next to him. "You okay?"
Sam looked over at him. "I don't know…" He looked back at the building.
"What is it?" asked Priestly.
"I'm not sure…" Sam muttered. "Just a bad feeling…"
"You mean your psychic thing?" asked Priestly.
"Maybe…" said Sam, slowly stepping towards the building.
"Whoa, hang on, man!" hissed Priestly, putting a hand to Sam's chest to stop him. "Don't just go in there naked!" He pulled a pistol out and handed it to Sam, grabbing a shotgun from the car for himself.
He and Sam snuck over to the door of the building, waiting for a moment. Sam placed his hand on the doorknob, looking up at Priestly.
"One…" mouthed Sam, "two…three." He turned the knob quickly and shoved the door open.
Priestly burst through the doorway, aiming the shotgun around the room for a moment. "Clear." He lowered the gun, but kept both hands on it at the ready.
Sam walked into the room, pistol in his hands, looking around at the empty room.
"False alarm?" Priestly asked him.
Sam knelt down at the window, putting his hand to the sill and holding it up so Priestly could see the sulfur on his fingers. "Guess not."
Priestly looked at the chair sitting in front of the window, a pair of binoculars and a camera in the seat. He stepped up behind the chair, looking up to see it was pointed straight at the grill across the street.
"Son of a bitch…" breathed Priestly. "They've been watching us the whole time." He reached down and grasped the binoculars, holding them up in front of him.
Sam stood, staring through the window at the grill. "Just waiting for their moment to strike."
Priestly turned and chucked the binoculars at the wall, causing Sam to jump. He turned back to Sam, seething. "Oh, they are so dead now."
"We should call Dad," said Sam.
"You do that," said Priestly stiffly, still angry about the whole thing. "I'm gonna go see if they left anything behind." He set off into the rest of the empty lot, searching each room but finding nothing.
Priestly walked back into the front room, finding Sam staring anxiously at his phone. "What is it?"
Sam looked up at him, worry pouring out of his eyes. "Dad's not answering his phone."
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John leafed through his journal at the motel, having had no luck with the demon. She had been stubbornly useless, and John had been forced to shoot her with the Colt. He was now looking for any more information he had written down about this demon. He should have known that if he didn't find the demon first, the demon would find him. And now, it's gone after innocent civilians, all because they knew his son. Well, John was not gonna let this thing hurt anyone else. It was time for this to end.
Something banged several times against the door, and John spun towards it, salt gun aimed. He cautiously approached the door as the person banged on it again.
"Guys, it's me!" yelled Trucker's voice. "Let me in!"
John edged up to the door, putting the barrel of the gun to it and unlocking it. When he opened it, he found a wounded, anxious Trucker standing there. "How'd you know where to find us?"
"Priestly told us in case there was an emergency," Trucker replied.
John nodded, vaguely remembering Dean mentioning something about that. John opened the door a little wider, beckoning Trucker in with a tilt of his head. He paid careful attention as Trucker stepped over the salt line in the doorway, wincing as he moved. John closed and locked the door behind him, turning to take in the other man.
Trucker had several gashes on his face, and his hair was matted and unkempt. The why he held his right arm to his side suggested either an injury to the arm or some busted ribs. Trucker limped to the table, favoring his left leg.
Probably twisted an ankle, John surmised.
Trucker leaned wearily against the table. "Where are the boys?"
"Out," John told him. "Searching the city. How'd you get away?"
"Hey, I can hold my own," Trucker defended himself. "I was a soldier, too."
"They're demons," John pointed out.
"Why do you think I look like this?" Trucker came back with.
"Are the others okay?" John asked him.
"They're alive," Trucker answered. "For how much longer is the question. We need to do something."
"We will," John replied. "You stay here."
"I'm coming with you," Trucker said, pushing away from the table.
"You can barely stand," said John.
"Don't judge a book by its heavily beaten cover," Trucker said. "I've been trained how to take a beating. I can help. I am not sitting by while they're in danger."
"Fine," said John. "You know where you came from?"
"Yeah," nodded Trucker, speaking quickly. "I can lead you in. We gotta go quick before they find out I'm gone. Then they'll move everyone, and we'll never find them." He turned and began heading towards the door. "Quick, call the boys."
"You got it," John replied, turning towards the door. "Just one thing first." He pulled the Colt from his pocket and aimed it at Trucker.
Trucker froze as he looked back at John.
"Just how stupid do you think I am?" smirked John.
Trucker's tension seemed to melt away as he suddenly smirked back, his eyes turning yellow. "You really want an honest answer to that?" He glanced down at the Colt. "Is that really necessary?" He spread his hands in a supplicating manner, taking a couple steps towards John. "I don't mean you any harm. I honestly want to take you to where I have the others."
John narrowed his eyes in condescension. "Is that right?"
The Yellow-Eyed Demon raised his right hand, first two fingers extended. "Scout's honor." He slowly lowered his hand back to his side, holding them clasped behind his back. "You see, I'm planning a big ole class reunion. I'd sure love it if the Winchesters could make it."
"Fat chance of that," John sneered at him. "Just tell me where you have them…" he pulled the hammer back on the gun, "or you're a dead demon."
"Temper, John, temper," said Yellow-Eyes. "That might get you into trouble someday."
"You have three seconds," John told him.
"You don't even want to talk first?" asked Yellow-Eyes.
"Two…"
"You know, you might want to work on your negotiation tactics," Yellow-Eyes told him with narrowed eyes.
"One—"
"Okay!" said Yellow-Eyes loudly, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "You win." He grinned wickedly. "I'll take you to them." He stepped up to within a few inches of the Colt's barrel. "But I'm not sure you'll enjoy the ride."
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Priestly pulled the car up to the motel, getting out as Sam did also. They made their way to the room, finding the door wide open. They each immediately pulled out a pistol, easing carefully into the room.
A shotgun lay abandoned by the door, and a cell phone lay in the middle of the floor. That was the only thing off in the room.
"Did he leave?" asked Priestly.
Sam picked up the phone. "It's Dad's."
"He left in a hurry?" suggested Priestly feebly.
Sam walked over to the table, picking up a leather-bound journal. "His journal…"
Priestly stepped up next to him, not getting it. "Yeah?"
Sam looked alarmingly up at him. "He never goes anywhere without this thing."
Priestly's eyes widened. "He doesn't?"
Sam shook his head, looking back down at the journal. "No."
Priestly took a second look around the room, spotting something by the beds. He stepped over and knelt down, moving the hanging bedspread aside and then looking up at Sam as he showed him the yellow powder on the carpet.
"Sulfur," Priestly told him.