Chapter 10

A cool breeze ruffled Sam's hair as he slid out of the van. He took a step forward, looking across the train yard to the warehouse and then up to the bruised sky. With the sun's last throws faded, he couldn't tell if this darkness was a storm or something worse.

The others stepped from the van more cautiously. They looked to one another with distasteful expressions. Jen zipped her leather jacket and crossed her arms, burrowing deep into the quilted leather even though the night was hot. They aren't so blind, Sam thought. He wondered what they saw. We're in the right spot.

One by one, other men emerged from a line of darkened cars. Kristen grabbed Sam by the back of his shirt and jerked him closer. His body groaned in protest but complied. She had a knife somewhere, and Sam didn't want her to use it - not here. He raised his hands in front of him in surrender.

A handgun cocked in the dark. "Lady, you wanna put my nephew down or so help you God." A few voices murmured assent. "We're here on the same side, but if you hurt my family that won't mean jack."

Sam didn't think Kristen was big enough to give any of the hunters a clear shot. She could fillet him before they fired. He cleared his throat. "It's cool, Bobby," he called. "Let's get some light."

A flashlight sliced through the night, bisecting the gravel lot. Bobby kept the beam pointed down and produced a blueprint, which had been folded over like a map until it fit in his back pocket. He shook it open with one hand and gestured for everyone to join him in a circle.

They shuffled forward and squatted on their hams while he explained the plan. Three prophets and eight hunters, now begrudging allies, listened with faces frowning in concentration. Bobby had that effect on people.

Bobby partnered Jen with the southwest hunters, Carter, Buck and Richard. Sam didn't know much about the three, but if rumors were true then Carter and Buck could be holding an even more wild card than Dean. Ben and Bobby partnered with Gary and Becka, who mainly worked swamp tracts in the deep south. That left Sam, Lloyd and Kristen together.

Sam suppressed a sigh. Bobby's choice in partners wasn't ideal for him. He'd rather cut off his own arm than trust Kristen with his life, but they didn't have time to argue. He would have to live with it - hopefully.

Bobby detailed the plan. The front of the warehouse rose out of the open rail tracks and mud, exposed. It provided the best defense and the worst stealth offensive, which meant it was probably one of the only open points of entrance. The demons had likely blocked off all other entrances to make their job harder.

Once they separated, Bobby would lead a team through the adjacent building to the second story breezeway, which was far enough out of the way that small noises would pass unheard. Jen's team would sweep the ground level, searching for an access point and pouring salt lines over doorways that couldn't be used.

"What about me?" Sam asked, though he gestured to Lloyd and Kristen in a belated effort to be inclusive.

Bobby pointed across the tracks on the drawing. "There's a railcar rustin' about here. It's got a good view of the front door. The three of you are gonna watch, and you ain't moving until you get the signal."

"I can fight, Bobby." Sam stood. His legs had gone partly numb while he crouched, and he wobbled.

"You know Jimmy better than anyone else here," Bobby said. He took his time standing, brushing the dirt from his jeans. The others followed suit. "If we get there in time - if he's alive - then we're going to need someone he trusts. And I'd rather you do the job than die trying to get through the doors."

Sam nodded, chastised, and looked across the field and tracks to the warehouse. Jimmy was being tortured inside that building. He was suffering and about to die. And it was Sam's fault.

A hand took his and squeezed. Sam looked back in surprise, but Jen's eyes were distant, focused on the mission ahead. Still, the pressure was reassuring. "I believe you can find him," she whispered. She released his hand and disappeared from his side.

/A.H.O.F.\

Sam lay stretched out beneath the rusting carcass of a rail car. Kristen lay across the tracks, too, her elbows on the rails and her face buried in a pair of high power binoculars. Unsurprisingly, she wouldn't share. Sam had half a mind to knock her out and take them, but he refrained. She'd probably like to be proven right.

He couldn't see anything out there. Night had settled in just as the teams split, a cool refreshment after the past few days' heat wave. The breeze rustled among the wild grass, creating strange whistling acoustics among the abandoned industrial buildings. For a while, he'd waited patiently in the dark. Bobby called his position once or twice, then it was radio silence. They hadn't heard from Jen's group at all.

Lloyd was taking it all in stride. He'd sprawled out between the iron lines of the track, laced his fingers together behind his head and fallen asleep. Sam didn't know how he did it. He might've looked like a teen out for a night under the stars except for the duffel between his feet and the pistol within easy arm's reach.

They were thirty minutes into the pointless stakeout when Kristen dropped the binoculars and groaned. Sam recognized the sound from enough late night bar nights with Dean. If she could've doubled over, she would have. She scrambled for open air, her breath fast and shallow. Sam kicked Lloyd awake and followed Kristen.

She was on her hands and knees throwing up in a ditch when they found her. Sam let Lloyd take the lead on this one, falling back and checking the radio for news. Lloyd put an arm around Kristen and helped her upright. He looked over his shoulder and motioned for Sam to come over.

Sam joined them, still twisting the radio dial. He didn't need a prophet to tell him the bad news. Every station was coming up static.

Kristen wiped her mouth with a corner of her shirt sleeve. "It's starting," she said.

Sam tossed his walkie-talkie. "That explains why the radios crapped out." He reached for his gun. "We're blind out here. We need to follow Jen's group. They might've found a way in, but it's not the front gate."

Lloyd uncrossed his arms. "Well, shit," was all he said.

They skirted the open yard and crossed the tracks on the southern corner of the warehouse before doubling back through a small city of low rise brick buildings. Tender saplings and choking weeds vied for nutrients in the industrial landscape. Hidden hazards lurked beneath the undergrowth, making their path slower and more difficult.

As the group got closer to the warehouse, their small shack city disappeared. They continued more carefully, crouching in the tall grass to avoid attention. Eventually even the grass gave out. A barren stretch of earth surrounded the building.

"Do you feel anything?" Sam asked Kristen as they pushed their way out of the brush.

"It's not a spidey-sense," she said, shooting a glare. Her foot caught on a rock, and she tripped.

Sam caught her before she did something undignified like fall on her ass. "Apparently not."

One by one, they darted across the lawn and crept along the wall. The basement windows were salted and the doors tagged along a quarter of the building, but an old coal chute interrupted the hunters' precautions. It looked as though there'd been a scuffle near its opening. A cold breath of unease tickled in Sam's chest. Lloyd dropped to his knees and peered into the open pit.

"Carter! Buck!" Lloyd put his hands on either side of the rusted chute. "Anyone alive down there?"

Sam's stomach tightened. The place felt bitter, like tea left too long with the bag in. He grabbed Lloyd's shoulder and hauled him away from the edge.

"Nothing down there," Sam said. He crossed himself, his feet taking an involuntary step away from the building. There were monsters that lived in the dark, hidden in the rocks and shadows until disturbed. They left a stain on the world, a sort of shadow slime that seeped into the pores of the Earth and killed it. These grounds had been cursed before the massacre would remain tainted long after men were gone. "We should get moving."

"Wait." Kristen seemed determined to be contrary. "What if it's our only chance in?"

"God willing, it won't be." Sam turned.

"But what if -"

"It won't be," Sam repeated. He kept walking. There was an edge to his voice he hadn't noticed before. He recognized it. Fear.

He was terrified.

/A.H.O.F\

They followed him after a minute of silent debate. Kristen reappeared by his side first, then Lloyd, more reluctantly.

He kept his eyes down, looking for salt lines or tags. "How we doing on time?"

Kristen shrugged, but she was wobbly. Sam glanced down at her. A sheen of sweat beaded on her pale face.

"So you feel it, too?" he said.

"It's my job, my purpose." She pointed to a closed doorway with a grunt. "Of course I feel it. It's evil."

They hurried to the door. Someone had spilled a salt line across it and marked it with a red X, but Sam tried to handle anyway. It groaned on its hinges but held.

He could smell sulfur and flame from within, a foul smell mixed with something … else. Whatever it was, it made the hairs on Sam's neck stand erect. Static electricity radiated from his lungs throughout his whole body.

In the distance came the sound of shattering glass. Something screamed in unearthly agony, a sound no human could make. Sam jerked his head and motioned Lloyd to check, but Kristen stuck by his side. She felt it, too.

Sam braced a foot against the wall and tried to force the door. It gave an inch, but time and weather had corroded it closed. "We need leverage."

She tossed him a can of red spray paint and jogged off into the night. Good point, Sam thought. He painted the demon trap and, after a pause, tested the exorcism playback on his recorder.

She returned with an armload of metal rods. Sam wasted no time. He grabbed a sturdy bar, jammed it through the narrow opening and pried. She joined in, throwing her whole body against it. The door screeched, creaked and popped open.

They jumped clear of the doorway, but if a demon was coming through it would've. Sam stepped through and led the way, gun drawn. Kristen closed her eyes, murmured something beneath her breath and followed.

He hadn't expected light. They'd entered in an unoccupied control room off the open floor. It should've been dark, but a cluster of flames on massive black iron candelabras dripped hot wax. Sam squinted and held a hand up to shield his eyes.

That's when he saw the body sprawled on the floor. Two more bodies lined the wall just inside the far doorway. Sam didn't bother to check them. They were out of time. The air reverberated with power, like the beats of a monstrous drum.

"How do we know how many are out there?"

Kristen was already pouring salt lines to block off a section of hallway. She paused, grimacing. "It's hard to read. I think I'd know if someone died - one of us, I mean." She put a hand out, palm forward, and murmured. Nothing happened, but she frowned and leaned into her hand.

He crossed the room and sprayed a sloppy demon trap next to the bodies there. God only knew, they might need it. When he glanced, Kristen looked as if she was leaning against an invisible wall. Her eyes had rolled back, showing only whites. He shuddered.

Her eyes returned slowly, reminding Sam of one of the cartoons he'd watched as a kid. It didn't look so silly in real life. "Four on our flank plus five in the spell circle … and you," she said.

He ignored her jab and checked his pistol with shaking hands. His sutures ached. His mouth had gone dry. They had one chance. One.

Sam ducked and ran. Kristen sprinted alongside him, pacing him easily. She was fast - or maybe he was just that slow.

He saw the spell circle. The student in him remembered the pattern, an intricate combination of old Sumerian and Babylonian - a power sigil that acted as a demonic seal. What was inside stayed inside; demons couldn't cross.

If he reached it he'd only be five demons away from Jimmy instead of -

Something invisible batted him aside. A butterfly floated up his throat as his feet left the ground. Time slowed, and then he hit an opposing force. Hard. He lost control of his body, tumbling, his limbs flying in all directions like a handful of wet spaghetti.

The demon was on him, pinning him before his vision cleared. The thing laughed and waved something in front of his eyes that disappeared before he really saw it. Lancing pain shot through him. He screamed, throwing his weight, and pulled his hands free.

It enjoyed the show; it laughed and struck him. The side of his face slammed into concrete, and he tasted blood.

Sam groped in his pocket for his tape recorder, his fingers fumbling. Darkness threatened to swallow his sight. Keep it together, Winchester. He found the recorder and pressed the button.

The thing jerked. There was something deeper than hatred hidden in the demon's eyes as the exorcism began to take hold. It drew a knife, long and bloody, and swung it at his chest.

Sam deflected the blow with an arm cross. The knife sliced a gash across his ribs before he knocked it out of the demon's hand. There was a brief scuffle, but desperation just made the demon stronger. It grabbed his head between its hands and dashed it into the ground.

He fought for consciousness and found it a losing battle. Thousands of candles faded to a single pinpoint of dim light. And then something screamed with the force of a tornado. The air turned rotten with the stench of sulfur. A weight dropped across his chest.

He lay still, floating in the lull. The glass panels above were black with dirt or midnight; it didn't matter. Shouts and gunshots rang in the distance, the chaos muffled. He didn't want to move. His bed was soft, inviting. He might just lie here until Jessica got up for work.

A petite blonde woman appeared above him. Her hair was streaked with dirt and half undone from its ponytail. Not Jessica.

Kristen shoved the corpse from atop him. "Can you stand?"

Sam blinked. He wasn't sure.

"Jimmy." She pointed. "Get up or I make sure you stay down."

She wasn't joking. He forced himself upright, slipping on the blood-slicked floor. The world went off kilter, and he waited for it to go almost upright before standing.

She put an arm around him and started moving. The fighting became clearer now. A tall man with a neck beard stood beside Jen as she tangled with two demons. Gunshots rang out from the other side of the warehouse. The fight would go to the last man, and he didn't have a weapon.

Ahead, Jimmy sat bound to a chair. A demon wearing a brunette in tattoos and combat boots crouched by his side, a bowl in hand. She looked like she didn't want to spill. Four more demons stood at the edges of the circle, turning it into a perverted compass.

Sam gritted his teeth. Jimmy might last another minute - maybe - before they returned to finish the ritual. "Tape," he said, but it came out more like "tab" and Kristen gave no notice she heard him. Blood dribbled down his chin. He tried to reach his pocket.

"Save it," Kristen snapped. She grunted under his weight, nearly losing her footing. "I've got you. Have some fucking faith."

They barreled across the paint line. Big mistake. The power they'd felt reverberating from outside was only an echo of an aspect, a glimpse at what one of the Four Corners could do. Inside, it was crushing. This was magic on primal scale that could only be focused by a circle and blood spells.

Sam found himself on the ocean floor. The light shimmered with rising heat and the corrupted scent of sulfur. The air was thicker, the pressure overbearing within the circle. The lines between Earth and Hell were blurred. He dropped to his knees, gasping, and waited for the power to burn out his soul.

Kristen made it another step before the weight of the spell staggered her. She took a knee, bowed her head and breathed. With one hand, she drew her knife and held it, handle up, toward Sam. "Save him."

His arm felt like solid lead as he reached for the blade, but he accepted it. It took all his strength.

She bounded to her feet and ran for one of the Corners. The demon guard startled at the last minute and turned, but too late. She leapt and hooked a leg around the demon's waist. It went off balance as momentum swung her around, up and suddenly she was on its back bearing it to the ground.

"In Nomine Dei, solutus es!" Pure light spilled from the demon's eyes. It lurched back as a column of holy fire enveloped its body.

The light eliminated shadows and contrast lines, leaving nothing in darkness. Two more demons rushed Kristen as the crushing weight subsided, leaving Sam with enough strength to stand. This was it. This was his chance. Sam shielded his eyes, stumbled to his feet and ran.

Jimmy was slumped in the chair. His clothes were torn and bloody, but Sam couldn't find a fresh wound to account for what he'd seen earlier. He slapped the man gently across the face, then again, harder, until his eyes fluttered open.

He gaped at Sam, his blue eyes too-large with fear. "Am I dead?"

Sam snorted. He began cutting through the ropes. It was harder than he'd anticipated. His muscles were weak. He wanted to crawl back into bed with Jess and forget about this mess.

Once his hands were free, Jimmy took the knife and sawed at the knots holding his legs in place. "You're alive," he said.

Rivulets of half-dried blood streaked the metal chair. Sam leaned against it anyway. A distant throbbing had spread across his abdomen and penetrated his core. He tucked an arm over the wound, pulled the recorder from his pocket and flipped the cassette. "Am I?"

Kristen shouted. Sam dragged himself to his feet. His hands and feet went clammy. He stood there, feet planted, as the world shifted and faded. If he collapsed, it would be for the last time.

A moment later Jimmy kicked free of the ropes. He pressed the knife into Sam's hand, then Sam's hand against his chest so he couldn't drop the blade. "Stay alive, Sam Winchester. God commands it." He sprinted to Kristen's aid.

Leaving Sam face-to-face with the remaining two demons. Shit.

They came at him fast. Sam put the chair between him and the demons. "Who wants to go first?" His legs shook. He thrust the recorder at them like a knife and waved it. "I'll send you ugly bastards back to Hell!"

The demons dropped, dead on the floor just feet from him. Thank God. Sam sighed in relief. He leaned on the chair for support and turned toward Jimmy.

An instant later every particle of the atmosphere came apart in a violent explosion of light. Each molecule lay exposed, and for the briefest moment before he closed his eyes Sam saw how they had been stitched together with the fire of Creation itself. As it turned out, Creation burned. Thunder cracked a second after, and a blast of wind blew through him.

He fell.