Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis. Humiliare sub potenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine, quem inferi tremunt.
It takes John he-doesn't-know-how-long to catch his breath again, and he's still bent over his own knees when a deep engine rumbles to a stop by the curb. John straightens and sees Bobby vault out the door of his beat-up truck and jog up onto the sidewalk. At first, John fears Bobby's found something worth panicking about, but then Bobby grasps John's elbow so tight that the nerves in his arm tingle.
"You okay?" Bobby demands. "John—"
"What'd you find?" John cuts him off.
Bobby glares at him, and so help him, if he starts in again on John's health or something, John is going to punch him in the throat. But Bobby leans back and lets John shrug his hand off.
"Not much," says Bobby. "The police chief said Seth's helped them out on a case or two over the last six months. One sounded like a skinwalker, and the other was this burglary here."
He nods toward the house with the wrap-around porch. John's throat burns, and he doesn't know if he wants to cry or puke.
"It wasn't a burglary." The heat spreads to his hands, and John has to clench them tightly.
"Spirit?" Bobby studies the house a little more closely now, as if he'll be able to see the scars of fire on the new house.
"Mary!" John shouts. "He exorcised my wife!"
Bobby blinks and then stares at John hard. John digs his fingernails into his palms and swallows hard. He hadn't planned on saying that. Bobby knows that something supernatural killed Mary, but he's never asked for details. Now, Bobby turns his head slowly from John to the perfectly perfect house.
"She was here?"
The heat flees John's hands and leaves them cold. Mary had been here. He could have—
Before the thought even fully forms in John's mind, he hears a familiar thrum of an engine. Down the street, a black 1967 Impala roars around a corner and flies past the neat little houses.
"What the hell?" He has to be seeing things. Or else, someone in Lawrence must have the same car as him, because that can't be who he thinks it is.
But the black car pulls to a ragged stop right behind Bobby's truck, and Deans jumps out of the driver's seat.
"Dad!" Dean slams the door shut behind him and nearly trips his way up to the curb.
"I told you to stay in the bunker," John spits as Sam bolts out of the passenger door. He doesn't even bother closing it, just swings around the frame and lets the door fall without really latching.
Sammy hefts the atlas from the work table over his hand and waves it at John.
"Dad, you have to see this." Somehow Sammy reaches John first and starts thumbing through the pages of the oversized atlas. "Look." He finally tears the book open to the two-page spread that is Wyoming. "Seth was following cattle mutilations from Nebraska into Wyoming."
Sammy slashes a finger quickly over a crooked line of red x's that traveled from the border into the southeast part of the state, just like Sammy says.
"Sam—" John tries.
"It's not a plague!" Sammy's a second away from stomping his foot and throwing a tantrum. "They're demonic omens."
Well, that gets John's attention. He looks at the atlas a second time, trying to discern meaning from his son's marks.
"And the railroads aren't railroads," Sam says hurriedly. "Well, they are, but look." His finger circles a thin red line. "It's a devil's trap."
John reaches out and takes the atlas slowly. Traced over the thin and thick lines of roads and highways is the same giant devil's trap that John had seen hand-drawn in Seth's journal. Sammy's outlined the whole thing in red pen.
"The rails are straight iron," Dean says. "It's a giant trap to keep demons in."
"Or out," says Bobby suddenly. He leans over John's shoulder to look at the map. "There's a cemetery around there. We saw it when we were going through Seth's journal."
John frowns at the map then glares back at Dean.
"You couldn't call to tell me this?" He has a phone, after all, and he doesn't really want his boys here. He doesn't even know how much Dean remembers about the house they're still standing in front of.
"We tried," Dean grunts. "Your phone was off."
John digs in his pocket and flips out his phone. The battery's dead, and he realizes he hasn't actually plugged the thing in since Seth disappeared. He shoves it back into his pocket viciously.
"So what's there?" The Wyoming map dangles from his hand.
"Oh, Mr. Winchester."
There is something very wrong with that tone. John turns with a frown, sees Mr. Arendt standing at the top of the stairs on his porch, surveying the tiny group of hunters on the sidewalk. Suddenly, John really wants his boys out of there.
"Yeah, sorry, I really have to get going." John shoves the map into Bobby's chest.
If Arendt still believes he's Seth's partner, it's going to look weird to be dragging two boys with him when he's supposedly investigating supernatural crimes and hauntings. John makes a short motion with his hand to one side. Dean, thank God Dean gets the message and starts backing up towards the car again. But Sammy just stays there, stock still and glancing at both the man on the porch and the house behind him.
"Is this your family?" Arendt walks casually down the porch steps. "So sweet."
Something slick and sly drops with Arendt's words, and John shoots a glare at Dean to make him get back in the car and go. Dean jerks forward, but Arendt reaches Sam first.
"You must be Sammy," he says holding out a hand for Sammy to shake.
John's stomach suddenly goes missing. He never told the Arendts his sons' names. Arendt smiles widely.
"My Daddy would be so pleased to have the chance to talk with you."
Standing in front of Sammy, Arendt blinks, and his eyes bleed into solid black. John snatches the gun from under his jacket at the same time Arendt makes a move like a spider pouncing and yanks Sammy to his front. Arendt hunches so that he's mostly behind Sammy and wraps one hand around Sammy's neck.
"Bastard," Bobby growls from John's side. He doesn't even have a gun.
"Bitch, actually," says Arendt with a toothy grin.
Wrong gender, John thinks, and then has a moment to think about a demon calling for her Daddy. He pulls the hammer back on the gun.
"Let him go, Megaera."
Arendt's face turns toward John and smiles like it's trying to flirt. The muscles in John's back spasm before he sets his spine straight and glares right back at the demon.
"Oh, look at how smart you are," she says like she's actually proud of John.
"Dad?"
Sammy's voice wavers, comes out high and scared. Megaera pulls out a kitchen knife from her pocket and presses the edge delicately to Sammy's throat with a little tsk-ing sound. Dean tenses where he's already frozen on the sidewalk.
"Sammy, don't move," he whispers.
Dean's arms are stretched out on either side of him, but he doesn't have a weapon. But John sees the way Dean glances to the Impala ever so often, and he's willing to bet Dean still knows where every single gun in the trunk is. Right now, there's no way Dean can get to the car and grab a gun without the demon noticing. John straightens and takes one threatening step forward, his gun leading the way.
"My family is off limits!" he yells.
Arendt/Megaera's black eyes snap immediately to John, and he can breathe a little bit better.
"Bit late for that don't you think?" Megaera says, half of his mouth turned up like the demon's trying to laugh. "You just let him walk right into our arms."
Well, breathing was nice while it lasted.
"Did you even know what we had planned for him?" Megaera says. "How much we had to make him bleed?"
John's eyes flicker down to Sammy, but Sammy's not bleeding. Not yet.
"What the hell did you do to Seth?" Bobby snaps, jerking forward like he doesn't actually remember the knife at Sammy's throat. John has to plant his foot in front of Bobby to stop him from bolting forward. And, oh God, Megaera meant Seth walking into Azazel's arms, not Sammy into Megaera's.
Megaera grins, and John tells the knot in his stomach that Dean's getting a gun from the car.
"He must have been through some kind of Hell because he's not quite broken yet," Megaera says. "You Winchesters are almost as tenacious as Hellhounds, you know that? Father would just like a little incentive." Her hand tightens around Sammy's neck as the knife starts breaking skin. "Besides, it isn't like you'll miss him, right?"
The hand around Sammy's throat slides slowly up the side of his face, like a caress, until it's buried in his shaggy hair. And all the while, Sammy inches his head away, turning like he doesn't want the demon touching him but doesn't know how to get away either. His eyes are wide with peeled back eyelids, and it needs to stop. John needs to stop this.
"You'll be so much better with us, Sammy," Meg whispers. "Your dad doesn't even know how close you got to us."
God, what has Sammy been doing? No, the demon must be talking about Azazel in the panic room. It hasn't shown its ugly face since then, so there's no way Sammy has been anywhere near Azazel or this bitch of a daughter.
"You figured it out when no one else did, and your dad didn't even listen to you," says Meg.
Sammy's eyes flash to John, and John can practically hear Sammy pleading for him to do something. Then, Megaera lifts the knife and Sammy jerks away. Before John can do anything, Bobby comes rushing past him with an angry yell. He raises his fist and throws something like he would a hand grenade. The little glass container shines in the air before it crashes right into Arendt's face. John sees Dean out of the corner of his eye and charges along with Bobby, reaching out one hand for his son just as Dean's gun goes off. Meg's head whips to one side, and John can see the gaping hole in the side of the man's head. Even if Bobby manages to spit out an exorcism, there's no way Mr. Arendt is surviving his possession.
In the next second, Arendt's face turns back, eyes black and temple bleeding, and Meg looks at John. John has the moment it takes him to think that he should have led with his gun instead of an open hand before Meg just moves. She pulls Sammy backwards so hard that John hears a snap right before Sammy cries out. Then, Meg's arm flicks in the peripheral of John's vision, and his left thigh suddenly burns. He can't hold his own weight anymore and collapses onto the sidewalk with a hiss.
"Sammy!" Dean screams.
"Uh-uh."
John forces his head up, sees the kitchen knife buried almost hilt-deep in his thigh, and then sees Sammy on the ground in front of Meg's feet. He's cradling his left arm, and his skin is pale. Dean still has a gun aimed at Meg's head, for all the good it does. Bobby is on his back on the lawn behind Meg, his eyes closed like he's been knocked out.
Then, Meg lifts one hand stretched out toward Dean, and John doesn't know what she's going to do. His heart hammers desperately, gives him the strength to rise on his right knee and plant his left hand behind him. It makes his body twist, and John can feel every inch of the knife in his leg, but he still raises his gun and fires. The moment the gun goes off turns into a blur as Meg's eyes flash black again and Dean suddenly jerks to one side. A smear of red blooms across Dean's arm, and he drops the gun to the sidewalk with a clatter. John's arm shakes as he falls backwards.
"Oh, you boys are pathetic," Meg laughs with the voice of Arendt.
"Dean," Sammy breathes.
John grits his teeth and tries to push himself at least to his elbows so he can see.
"Don't worry, Sammy," Meg croons.
Arendt's face is close to Sammy's with their cheeks pressed together. John tries to flip over and reach for his gun. He knows Meg will see his movements, but he has to do something.
"Daddy's gonna love playing with you," the demon says softly.
John falls onto his back again, his head lifted just enough to aim as he steadies the gun with both hands. But then Meg's eyes turn black, and they look like they're moving. Like the face has smoke for pupils. A terrible pressure slams onto John's chest and knocks all the air out of his lungs. His head slams back against the concrete hard enough to make him black out. He blinks his eyes open without knowing immediately if he actually passed out or not.
A truck engine rumbles close to his ear, and John can only turn his head to see Bobby's truck peel away from the curb with Meg in the driver's seat. Bobby still lay face down on the grass just past the edge of the sidewalk, and Dean sits slumped against the Impala with one hand clamped tightly over his right arm, near his shoulder. John tries to sit up, but he still doesn't have quite enough oxygen.
"Oh my god! What happened?!"
Mrs. Arendt comes screeching out of the house and flying down the sidewalk that leads up to that stupid porch. John keeps a hard grip on his gun, just in case, and doesn't close his eyes even when he starts seeing stars.
"Are you alright?" Mrs. Arendt hovers over John, not kneeling down to check on him but still holding her hands out over him like she's going to catch him if he tries to stand.
John looks down at the knife in his leg and uses his free hand to press gingerly at the muscle. It hurts like hell.
"Oh, god," Mrs. Arendt breathes shakily. "I'll call an ambulance."
John wants to say he doesn't need an ambulance, but Bobby's still unconscious, and he only might be able to remove the long knife and stitch his leg up with Dean's help. But Dean hasn't lost the dazed look in his eyes, even with one hand over the bullet wound. Doesn't help that Dean's face is wet with tears. It has to be because of the concussion. Dean doesn't cry over bullet wounds.
o0O0o
John grits his teeth and looks away. He can't actually feel the needle passing through his skin thanks to anesthesia, but he's learned that it's not really a good thing to watch your own insides dancing around on the outside of your skin. His eyes land on Dean, who waits stiff and unmoving by the curtain inside the trauma ward. He's holding his left hand straight by his side, as if that's going to keep the doctors from seeing the brace on his wrist in addition to the bandage they've already put on the gunshot graze on his right arm. John's throat burns all the way down to his heart, and he tears his gaze away from his son to watch the doctor again.
"Alright," the man in the white coat finally says. "That should take care of it. I've put some surgical glue on the wound as well. Someone will be right around to transfer you up to inpatient—"
"I want to check myself out," John says before the doctor can get too far into his plans.
The doctor's eyebrows pull down so far John can actually read the "v" in between the man's eyes.
"With this severe a wound, we'd like to keep you overnight, just for observation." The man's tone is mild, clearly stating that this shouldn't be a big deal for John. "And then there's aftercare, and we need to get you some crutches."
"I've got some at home," John lies easily. "It's not my first time on the job."
Since Mrs. Arendt had called the ambulance herself, they had to make up something relatively believable. John won't admit that Seth's reputation has helped him, because the hospital has no idea who Seth Wesson is. But they do accept that John is a private detective, following up an old case.
The doctor stares at him for a moment more and then purses his lips, displeased.
"I'll get you the paperwork for a check-out Against Medical Advice." He emphasizes the last few words so that even John can hear the capitalization. But he doesn't say anything to call the doctor back as he brushes past Dean and leaves the curtain shoved to one side.
Dean hunches his shoulders over his chest like he's trying to hide with nowhere to go. That burn in John's throat is back, and his stomach feels heavy. He must be reacting to the anesthesia.
"What the hell were you thinking?" John growls through gritted teeth.
Dean's head snaps up.
"Dad—"
"You brought your brother right to a demon."
It doesn't even matter that Megaera and not Azazel is the one who has Sammy now. Sammy is with a demon who wants him for some reason, and John is sitting in a hospital with his leg torn up so bad he's not sure he'll be able to walk to the car without popping the wound open again and bleeding all over his jeans.
"He needed to come," says Dean. "As soon as he figured out the devil's trap thing, he had to get to you. He wouldn't even let me call down to the police station for Bobby. He was desperate, Dad, like he knew something was wrong with it."
Visions, telekinesis, electrocution, mind control. God, what was going on with his boy?
"You let her take Sammy."
"Alright, stop."
John looks up at the sudden gruff voice and sees Bobby stepping into the space by John's bed, pulling the curtain shut behind him.
"You have twenty stitches in your leg." Bobby glares at John. "Don't push it, Winchester."
John wants to say something about the butterfly bandage above Bobby's right eye, holding his scalp together. But Bobby has the advantage of recovering consciousness before the ambulance pulled up, so he got treated on-scene and then left to drive the Impala to the hospital.
John rolls his eyes instead because it makes him feel better. It also makes him slightly dizzy, but that passes once John blinks for a couple seconds.
"She said Sammy got close to Azazel." Bobby turns to Dean abruptly. "What were you doing in the bunker?"
John straightens to pay attention to this part, but Dean just shrugs helplessly.
"Nothing," he says. "He wanted to study Seth's maps, and then he found out that cattle mutilations are demonic omens, so I called the DNR in Nebraska and found out about the farmers having trouble with wildlife."
Dean finishes in one deep breath, like he didn't dare breath while he was actually talking.
"Demonic omens?" Bobby repeats. "So, Seth was tracking where Azazel was?"
Something sharp underlies Bobby's tone, and John focuses through the pain meds.
"But they're all old, and then, we found out there were more in Wyoming." Dean flips one hand through the air, gesturing at a map that's not there. "That's when Sammy found out what the railroads are."
"Sammy found it?" John had known that. Dean said that when they first pulled up, but John had been more mad than anything.
The doctor comes back and cuts off the conversation there, and John stays mostly silent and gruff as he signs the discharge papers on his own, while Bobby chases Dean out to the car. The doctor foists John on a nurse with a wheelchair, and the only reason John doesn't protest is because he needs to out of here as soon as possible. If he's right, Sammy hasn't been close to Azazel physically. Meg was talking about the investigation Sammy and Dean were working on instead. Sammy was the closest to where Azazel actually is.
How the demons know this is a question that sets the hairs on John's arms on end.
Bobby already has the Impala pulled up by the hospital's front door when John exists, and Dean helps John hop his way to the passenger door and slide in. Bobby nearly peels out of the parking lot and back on the road while Dean pulls out the U.S. atlas from Seth's workroom.
On the two-page spread of Wyoming, John traces around the thin red lines that lay over the symbols for railroads. The red symbol of the devil's trap covers a large part of the southeastern corner of the state. Red 'x's are scribbled in the state all around the outside of the circle.
"The trap is to keep demons out of here," Dean says as he leans over the front seat to hover over the map in his dad's hands. "Look, he's been trying to get into here."
John brushes Dean's hand out of the way so he can peer at the map more closely. There are some small cities along the perimeter of the circle, but the inside looks desolate.
"What's in the center?" he asks.
Bobby glances over at the map from the wheel of the Impala.
"Whatever it is, Azazel needs a human to get in there."
And now Azazel has Sammy.
John tosses the atlas back towards Dean in the back seat.
"Let's go," he orders.