C&W—Chapter 8

Marion, Indiana, November, 1975

I don't want to set the world on fire. I just want to start a flame in your heart.

The grainy and eerily nostalgic thrum of the Inkspots slid sideways through Jake's ears as they entered the house. The sound was reverberating loudly from the record player in the bedroom, crawling through the dark house, and was the only thing to greet them at the door.

They'd knocked, waiting for an answer, hoping Elle would come to the door, but the house stood silent and dark after the electrical surge, like the black head of a match after the flame had been blown out. Jake could feel the energy still around them, felt it raise the hairs on his arms and along the back of his neck.

This was Elle Reese's home. She lived in the town that Elkins had directed them to, and while Jake had doubts if they should trust Elkins after he'd stolen a family heirloom, he couldn't deny the hard evidence. There had been cattle deaths and electrical storms in the region. Elkins was a coward, but he wasn't a bad hunter, and he'd given them the lead on the demon before he'd known they had something he wanted. Jake swore if he saw Elkins again, he'd sharpen something on his neck like he'd threatened to do to his little brother.

Ben had fallen in silently beside him, eyes searching the absorbing shadows. He had been the one to pick Elle Reese's home. He'd met her in the park near her house, met her six-month-old-son. The pattern seemed to be with the yellow-eyed man that he had a penchant for infants, and as for the families that they'd encountered in their search, many had six-month-old children.

There was movement upstairs, drawing both their eyes to the staircase and the unknown black at the top. Jake moved forward first, taking the right, shotgun loaded and ready in his hand, and Ben, his mirror image in solid stance, folded up against the left, keeping an eye to their rear.

There was a rustling sound like dry autumn leaves and the quiet murmur of a child coming from a room at the top of the stairs. They found themselves standing in a nursery as they rounded the corner. A man was hovering in the shadows above the baby's crib. He didn't acknowledge them; dark, unknown whispers were pouring from his lips as the brothers drew closer, guns leveled on the dark figure.

Jake's eyes fell upon the dark splotches resting on the child's small lips, running down the smooth white of his soft cheeks as the baby sputtered and coughed. Keeping one eye on the man standing over the crib, Jake's gaze jumped to the child as the baby started to cry, turning his small face into his blankets, smearing them red.

"What the hell?" he breathed, jerking his gaze to the man who had been stone still, eyes closed, dark, thick liquid squeezing through the fingers of his fisted hand, landing in the open mouth of the child below.

Ben was pale beside him as realization slid over the both of them. Blood. This man was feeding the child blood.

The man's eyes opened and both Jake and Ben startled back as cold light emitted from the yellow beads set in his skull. After all the years of following leads on Mary Shards' killer, of hearing about a man with yellow eyes, a demon, Jake and his brother were finally face-to-face with the evil they had felt perforate every cell and fiber in the Shards' home.

Jake knew too well that hesitation meant death, but the shock of finding this unnatural killer, the one whom they'd been searching for, made the blood in his veins sluggish and cold, his finger frozen over the trigger.

The demon's eyes narrowed down to golden slits as he stared down the barrels of their two shotguns. "Hunters," he said, the word rolled low in his throat. "I hate being interrupted," he sighed, tiredly. Mouth twisting into a crooked smile he shrugged. "Isn't that right, Elle?"

Following the demon's gaze to the corner of the nursery, Jake saw the mother, Elle, wedged in the crook where the nursery walls met the ceiling, feet dangling five, six feet from the ground, face twisted in agony, all sounds of pain stilled on her lips. She sucked in a wet and desperate breath, coughing as though she'd been lifted from water. She started to cry, sobbing as she hung there against the ceiling.

Nothing could have prepared them for what they were seeing; as Elle managed to let go a breathy cry for help between her sobs, Ben was the first to snap back from the shock, taking aim, but too late. Their guns were ripped from their hands and tossed through the door of the nursery into the hall, the door slamming shut. Jake hit the wall behind him hard enough to feel the wall give, something snapping along his ribs, leaving his lungs starving for air, his side burning with pain.

Through watering eyes he searched for Ben, finding him against the opposite wall, stunned, pinned like he was. Jake tried to move, but like some mounted insect, he was stuck to the wall behind him, all limbs rendered useless, numb, encased in some unbearable and invisible weight.

The demon looked between the brothers, then stalked toward Ben before Jake could find his voice.

"Been looking for you for a long time," Jake said. "The man with the yellow eyes. Thought you'd be…taller."

The demon smirked, eyes seeming to brighten in the dark. "That so? As you've figured out, I'm no man. Just wearing the human meat suit."

"Was right about one thing."

The demon huffed. "This should be good. Considering you two cowboys needed to do a little more research. Then you would have stayed away."

"You're just like any other demon I've met. A coward who hides behind people. Kills women, leaves their children orphans," Jake growled.

"Just like any other demon?" Yellow-eyes sighed. "I see neither of you truly appreciate what's going on here. For the record, I don't leave orphans. I'll take care of all my children."

Jake looked over at Ben, silently praying that he was all right. Ben looked like he was having trouble breathing, the impact of the attack having stunned him. They weren't as young as they used to be, but when Ben locked eyes with his, letting him know that he was okay, Jake saw there fire that refused to go out, just as strong as it had been when he was in his twenties, and he knew Ben was with him in the fight at hand.

Jake felt his strength renewed.

"He's not your child," Elle sobbed. "Leave him alone."

"Maybe not my seed," Yellow-eyes cooed, "but as of tonight, he is my son."

"How?" Jake growled.

"The blood…" Ben groaned out, seeming to finally find the air to breathe out his words.

"He's the brains of your outfit, isn't he?" The demon smirked at Jake. "Yes, the blood. Powerful. Binding."

He went over to Ben and took hold of his chin, lifting it to meet his disgusting eyes. "You've got me all figured out, don't ya?" He shrugged. "Guess it won't hurt to indulge your curiosity. I'll be redecorating my new son's nursery with your entrails soon anyway. Which reciprocally piques my own curiosity. Why me? Why are you here? What has Fate in all her twisted glory done bringing you here to me tonight?" He looked between the two. "Did I kill someone you love?" He asked, his tone that of mild curiosity, uncaring of the answer.

Elle whined and he turned his eyes sharply to her, her crying squeezed off in a struggled wheeze in her throat like someone was pressing against her windpipe. "Patience, Elle, darling. We'll get to your role in all this."

His question to the brothers still hung in the air and Jake narrowed his eyes when the demon came closer to him. The demon tilted his head to the side as he studied Jake, closing his eyes for a moment.

"No? Well then," his eyes snapped back open. "Now that I see inside that head of yours, I will have to remedy that." He smiled cruelly. "Brothers, right? I'll let you pick who gets to watch the other die. Flip a coin maybe? Draw straws? Rock, paper, scissors?" He laughed. "An oracle once told me, right before I tore out her eyes with pieces from her crystal ball, that I would die at the hands of brothers. Even gave me their names." He picked up Jake's hat from the floor where it had fallen and stuck it back on his head. "Wonder if she saw her own death coming…" He snapped his finger against the brim, pushing it down into his eyes. "Won't be the two of you. Don't get excited, Jake."

Jake's head shot up, gaze settling with contempt on the yellow marble of the demon's eyes.

"Surprised I know your name? Don't get a big head now, Colt, but I heard you were looking for me. The more I look right through you, the more I'm learning about your pathetic crusade to make this world demon free. You two aren't here for revenge. You're here for justice," the demon huffed. "And look what it got you. Doing the right thing…How does it feel to know you wasted your life for a woman you didn't even know?"

"He didn't waste his life," Ben returned from his side of the room. Jake heard the pride in his brother's voice.

The demon smirked. "That's right. Not on Shards anyway. He wasted it on you, Ben."

Jake growled low in his throat. "Don't pretend to know me," he said. "I want to know why… why Mary Shards?"

The demon shrugged and went to stand beneath Elle. "Why Elle? Why you? Why Mary Shards?"

Her tears fell silently against his face and he wiped them from his cheek in disgust, as though they were dirt. Her son started to stir, a weak cry burbling from the crib as the demon returned to it. "I collect children, Colt. I'd tell you why, but you never know who is listening." He moved to a shelf where a small angel figurine was sitting and plucked it from its perch, setting it on fire in his hand. "Elle's child here is special, and now, he's mine." The demon circled the crib. "Only one will be what I've been looking for all these years. But I never know what kind of gems I'll find along the way."

Jake was shaking, fingers curled into tight fists at his side as he pulled against his invisible restraints.

"Looking forward to '83," the demon smiled. "Good year for me. I nabbed myself a bunch of good stock in '73. One was a little bitch named Mary. Kinda like your Mary, Jake…only this woman was a much better fighter."

Jake felt the blood rush to his cheeks, hatred flowing through him for this thing that they had searched so long for…and for what? They weren't ready. They needed the gun Elkins had stolen. And the yellow-eyed bastard was doing things to children, to families that Jake couldn't have ever imagined. It couldn't win. It couldn't leave this room. And yet Ben and he were stuck, useless to the poor woman who was staring at them like they could save her. Useless to each other…

"Ten year deals," Ben added, putting it together. "Ten years between tragedy and when you show up. Ten years before the murders and the fires we've been tracking…"

"That's the agreement. Ten years and I come knocking. And if you go back on your deal, like Mary Shards, or you get in the way, like Elle here…well, you'll see soon enough."

Elle gasped like her throat had finally been released, and the demon went to her, peering up at her in curiosity.

"Did we not have an agreement?" he asked.

"Not this…" she breathed. "Not this! If I had known…I would have asked for death! Not my child…please…"

"You agreed to allow whatever I asked for in ten years. Did I not give you back your family? Tragic that they all died in a car accident two years later. But I'm not in charge of the chaotic entropy of the universe, my dear. You need to take up your complaint with upper management."

"So you prey on loss…" Jake sneered. "You take advantage of people's pain!"

"Demon," Yellow-eyes pointed to himself. "None of this should come as a shock to you, Jake."

"You used Mary Shards' sister…" Ben stated.

"Yes, brothers, aunts, fathers, poodles, pet goldfish, whatever these whiny, bleeding souls want back, I give to them, but not for free. Not without a price."

"A price they don't know about," Jake returned.

Yellow-eyes laughed. "They have to know. Deals with devils can never be good. No matter what is on the table. They have to know I'm not coming for the furniture when I don't want their soul." He huffed. "Like my sweet Mary of '73. Snapped the neck of her fiancé in front of her, murdered her parents, and she 'put out,' if you will, just so she wouldn't be alone. People would rather sell their souls then be alone."

"Or they'd rather lay down their lives for those they love," Ben returned.

"I liked you better when you were the 'smart one', Ben," the demon snorted. "Now you sound like a fortune cookie. Optimism is never a good color on a hunter. Red however…" his smile grew and twisted even more. "No sacrifice is selfless."

"Your kind knows nothing of sacrifice or family," Ben said quietly.

"Show me then, Ben." Yellow-eyes challenged, seeming to be enjoying himself a little too much. "Who goes first? Jake or yourself?"

"Wait! No, Ben," Jake struggled to look around the demon standing between them to his brother. "Wait…you don't have to choose. Don't make him choose, you son of a bitch!"

"I'll go first," Ben replied, eyes like steel.

The demon scoffed. "What? No offer?"

"There's nothing to gain from deals with devils. You'll kill us both anyway. If some higher power moves its hand to save us too late, then if I go first…Jake will live."

The demon's eyes seemed to grow brighter as he turned them back to Jake. "Which is exactly why…Jake's dying first."

The demon practically slithered toward Jake, the child screaming in its crib for a mother who couldn't comfort it. Yellow-eyes held out a hand and Jake felt his body being pushed back into the wall, bones crushing against one another, the air being rolled out of his lungs.

And then it stopped, leaving Jake's burning lungs desperately seeking relief. The demon was staring at him, disbelief written in the deepening lines around the grotesque yellow beads for eyes.

"You didn't come alone," he growled, closing the distance between himself and Jake, twisting fingers in his shirt. As the demon studied him, Jake couldn't help but feel that it was looking beyond him… or at something within him. Yellow-eyes turned back to Ben, eyes narrowing like he was seeing something within his brother as well.

"You have someone else staring out through both your eyes, Colt," the demon smirked. Both of you do. Flies on the wall. Angels on your shoulders if you will. Too bad they're only here observing. I would love nothing more than to crush the 'angel' on your shoulder, Jake. But I'll rip him open and tear out his heart soon enough." His grin churned Jake's stomach especially as the demon got closer, the scent of mint and sulfur wafting on his breath. "Less than ten years and I come for your brother, Dean. And there's nothing you can do about it."

Jake blinked back his confusion as the demon advanced to Ben, breathing deeply over him, like he was taking in the scent of a fine wine. He exhaled and Jake caught a name.

"Sam…"

The satisfaction and pleasure that coiled around the name in the demon's mouth sent cold through Jake's core. What the hell was this demon seeing? Angels? Ghosts?

"Show's over, boys," Yellow-eyes growled.

Jake's heart shuddered violently in his chest, suddenly ripped sideways and into his ribcage. He threw his head back against the wall, a cry emptying his lungs in agony, tearing up through his throat and echoing with Ben's. Blood crushed up into his throat, choking him, right before an explosion of sound snapped through the air like lightning, and Yellow-eyes staggered back from both of them, shoulder blossoming dark blood.

Eyes wide with fear, the demon threw back its head, black smoke erupting from the chimney of the man's throat, the shell of his dead body hitting the ground before the dark cloud disappeared in a whirlwind of fire and sulfur.

Jake and Ben fell free from the walls onto their hands and knees, Elle collapsing in a heap in the corner. Clawing for breath, surprised he could still move, Jake raised his eyes to the shadow that stood the nursery doorway, the smoke from the gun curling up his arm.

"Now we're square," Elkin's voice slid from the black.

Ben was limping toward Elle, rolling her onto her side as she coughed and gasped for air, sobbing as he tried to help her.

"Like hell," Jake ground out, holding his chest as he pushed to his feet, teetering uneasily, weak. If he was strong enough to stand, that was good enough for him. The taste of blood washed over his tongue, but he ignored it. He supposed Elkins wanted a 'thank you' for saving their lives. He wouldn't get a damn thing but Jake's boot up his ass.

He heard the metallic cocking of the hammer and saw Elkins level the gun between his eyes.

"We're square," Elkins repeated darkly, before backing away. He then turned, fleeing.

Jake started after him, denying the tilt of gravity and the extent of his injuries, but Ben's fingers curled around his bicep, stopping him.

"Let it go, Jake," he wheezed, still catching his own breath, hand massaging the muscle above his heart. "You think you're twenty again? Let the coward go. He saved our lives..."

Jake set his jaw angrily, wanting to get his gun back from the bastard who'd threatened Ben...but his brother was right and he dropped his shoulders, placing a hand over Ben's. "You okay?"

Ben's eyes swung to Elle as she scooped up her son and held him to her chest, crying over him, apologizing repeatedly through her tears.

"I will be…" Ben sighed, and Jake could hear the same underlying response echoing through his own mind. They'd be okay when they knew evil like that was gone from the shadows.

The brothers moved toward the fallen man, his wide, dead eyes no longer like painted yellow glass.

The yellow-eyed demon was still out there…

Bolting upright in bed, Dean went from asleep and horrified to awake and horrified in the span of a breath. He looked around the room and for a brief, terrible second thought Sam had died in the transition from the past to present.

The room was deathly, utterly quiet.

Dark splotches resting on the child's small lips, running down the smooth white of his soft cheeks as it sputtered and coughed.

It took a few seconds for his senses to begin registering the tiny, telltale noises, the numbers on the clock flicking over from one to the next, the slight drip of water from the shower, a horn honking somewhere distant enough it was barely heard, the squeak of a bed from some movement, the pounding of his blood in his ears and through his leg. Sam's breathing.

Sam's breathing. Dean took a breath. I wasn't going to wake up. Sam's breathing.

Dean turned his head far enough to see his brother. "How the HELL did that thing know we could see too?" Dean's voice trailed away when he took a good look at Sam. Sitting up in bed, starting at him, Dean realized the squeak of the bed was caused by Sam shaking so hard he was rattling the old springs.

The man who had been stone still, eyes closed, dark, thick liquid squeezing through the fingers of his fisted hand.

Dean blinked his eyes hard and willed the image in front of him away. This kid in the bed next to his didn't even look like Sam. Pale, gaunt, barely breathing with hollowed out eyes, skin pasty white and covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

"Sammy." Dean's voice sounded odd, cracked and rough.

Blood. This man was feeding the child blood.

Eyes getting even wider, which Dean thought would be impossible, Sam finally moved. He jerked in a sharp, ragged breath. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Sam bolted across the room and out the door.

Stunned, Dean sat there staring stupidly at the door banging and creaking on its hinges.

I wasn't going to wake up. What legacy can I EVER hope to leave? Can't get what you can't give. I wasn't going to wake up. I wasn't going to wake up. This man was feeding the child blood.

Shit. Damn. Shit, damn, crap. Crap!

The second Dean's feet hit the floor pain rocketed up from his calf and seared across his shoulders. He ignored it and ran out the door after his brother. Normally Dean was faster even if Sam had longer legs, but infection was slowing him down. Sam's lungs were filled with more gunk than air, he'd wear down faster.

Feet pounding hard against the pavement, Dean followed Sam. His brother's breathing was already slowing him down, long breaths drawn out to wet, ragged intakes of air. Sam ran between a row of cars in the parking lot, probably not even knowing where he was going or with a specific destination in mind. Changing direction and going around one of the cars, Dean cut in front of Sam and threw himself at his brother, stopping him with a flying tackle.

They hit the pavement and skidded a few feet. Sam whimpered when his arms and hands were pushed against the pavement and a layer of skin peeled away. For a few seconds they stayed like that, Sam pinned to the pavement by Dean's weight, bringing their breathing under control. Finally able to catch his breath and regain some control, Dean levered up onto his knees and off Sam's back, one hand gripping Sam's shoulder.

"Sam?"

Rolling over, Sam curled in on himself, pulling knees closer to his chest he scuttled back…away from Dean. Extending his arm, Dean kept contact while the rest of him stayed put. "Don't you ever run from me, Sammy. You don't ever have to run from me."

Sam made some tortured noise in the back of his throat, shook his head and tried backing away further. This time he was blocked by a car. His eyes skittered from one object to the next, barely landing on Dean.

"Sammy." Dean tightened his grip on Sam's shoulder and inched forward. When Sam ducked his head and turned away a fraction, looking like some frightened, trapped wild animal seeking escape, Dean froze. "You don't ever need to run from me." When shudders wracked Sam's body, Dean crept a few inches closer. "Sam," he kept his voice low and soft, "What did you—"

Sam shuddered and gulped down an odd noise, shaking his head, arms around his knees in a death grip. When Dean saw the shimmer of tears, it all snapped into place.

I wasn't going to wake up. Blood. This man was feeding the child blood.

How long had Sam been carrying this around? If he was honest with himself, he already knew the answer but asked anyway. "When, Sammy?"

"Co-cold Oak." Sam swallowed, eyes doing another few scans of the area before landing back on Dean for a second then his gaze shifted to the ground. "Yellow-eyes showed me the night Mom—that night."

"Sam." Dean squeezed Sam's shoulder hard.

Sam's gaze finally came up and met his, tears threatening to spill over. "He showed me." His voice was a soft whisper, and Dean heard the desperate plea behind the words.

Dean's leg was violently protesting his position. "Sammy, I gotta get up. Help me up. It's four-thirty in the morning. We're going back inside." Using Sam's shoulder as a brace, Dean tried pushing off the ground but swayed and stumbled.

At once Sam was on his feet, hands gripping Dean's arm and elbow he took some of Dean's weight. "Dean, I'm half demon. My own mother, she—" Sam's voice broke and stopped.

Hopping on one foot across the parking lot and into their room, Dean stopped and shut the door, bolted it and put up the chain lock. He had no delusions, a flimsy motel door, a tiny piece of chain and a cheap deadlock weren't going to stop Sam from bulldozing through if he tried to run again. They would, however, hopefully slow him down enough for Dean to catch up to him.

Fist curling in Sam's shirt Dean shoved him at a bed and sat him on it. "Sammy, you were six months old, a baby."

"I'm part demon."

"Oh for crap's sake, Sam, where do you come up with this stuff? If I drink cow's blood does that make me half cow?"

One corner of Sam's mouth twitched up, "Maybe mostly bull."

"You drink holy water, and I've seen you walk in and out of a Devil's Trap, you read exorcisms and eat salt. Sam, you are NOT half demon. He did that for a reason, I'll grant you that, but you're not half demon."

"She sold me out. She didn't even know me."

Dean sighed, how was he going to fix this? A mother who offered Sam to a demon and a father whose parting words were to put down that same son. He could only imagine how Sam must feel, the hurt, the betrayal. Running one hand through his hair he pulled a chair next to the bed and eased onto it. He put his other hand on Sam's shoulder and hung on tight. "I—" What could he possibly say?

Sam glanced up, wiping tears dripping off his nose with the back of one hand.

"I carried you out of a burning house. I taught you to tie your shoes, shoot a gun, shave, how to steal a car and drive it. I made you dinner and bandaged your skinned knees and I'm here. I can't fix those things Mom did, or Dad. I wish I could, wish I could make them go away, but I can't." Anger bubbled up in Dean's chest. All these things were done with consequences put on two small boys, with no forethought as to what would become of the lives of the men they grew into. His shoulders felt heavy, actions taken before he and Sam were ever born and now left to him to deal with and put right. "I'm here, Sam. So are you. We got nothing but each other and whatever we have to do to deal with this thing, all this crap, we will. We'll do it together."

It was all he had to offer his brother. Dean hoped it was enough.

A tear coursed down Sam's face and dripped off his nose to splatter on the back of Dean's hand. Sam's head dipped in one tiny, tight jerk of a nod and Dean was able to breathe again. What Dean had to offer just might be enough after all.