Demon Blood

Chapter Three: Research

After two days, Dean forcibly signed out of the hospital against the medical advice of Dr. Jones and the concerns of John. "Everyday I'm in there is another day lost where we could be looking for Sam," he told John. "I'm not… I won't be okay until we find him."

Admitting that had been painful, but that was how Dean had worked since the age of four. Sammy's well-being had always determined his own, and knowing that Sam was out there being forced to do God-knows-what made his stomach churn.

That sad look came into John's eyes again before he turned away to the Impala. "He's still alive, Dean," he said. "We've gotta hang onto that knowledge for now."

Dean was silent as he slid into the passenger seat and continued to say nothing as they drove to Bobby's place.

Bobby was waiting on the front porch for them, a sad smile peeking out from under his grease-stained ballcap. He made his way down the steps and over to Dean, pulling him into a brief hug when he stepped out of the car. "Good to see ya on your feet again, son," he said gruffly, and Dean found he was able to manage a faint smile.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Thanks, Bobby."

Bobby just smiled some more and turned to lead the way inside. "You're both rooming in the guest bedroom upstairs, unless that's gonna cause problems?" He raised his eyebrows as he turned to eye both John and Dean.

John shook his head. "No problems there, Bobby," he said. "Got anything we can cook up?"

"I'm not that hungry, Dad," Dean said, instantly catching onto John's plan. "I'd rather get started on trying to find Sam."

"You're no good to your brother if you can't take care of yourself, Dean," John said sharply, "and you left the hospital days before you probably should have. We are going to eat before we discuss anything to do with Sam, understand?"

Dean had the intense urge to tell his dad to just go fuck himself while he looked for his brother on his own, but an order was an order, and Dean was still very much the soldier his father had raised him to be. "Yes, sir," he ground out. John shot him a sharp look, but he said nothing, and the three men continued into the house.

John helped Bobby prepare a simple meal consisting of sandwiches, chips and juice, and although Dean wanted nothing more than to wolf down his food in two minutes and get started on searching for Sam, one look from his father had him eating at a regular pace while listening to John and Bobby talk about cars. Normally, Dean would have been all over a conversation like this one, but it all felt so wrong without Sam there, rolling his eyes at their enthused words. Sam knew all kinds of freaky things about history, the supernatural, and other random bits of trivia, but he had never really caught onto the "car talk" thing, as he had called it once.

Dean would give anything to have Sam sitting next to him right now.

Finally, the three of them finished eating and ensconced themselves in Bobby's study. Bobby was making notes of everything they knew about Azazel, from locations he'd been to and people he had hurt. Dean couldn't help but shudder when they reached Max Miller's name on the list.

"Dean?" asked John.

"Sorry," he said, "it's just that we met that one through Sam's visions. He…" Dean shook his head before blurting, "You have no idea how glad I am that you rarely ever got drunk when Sam and I were growing up."

John and Bobby frowned, and Dean swallowed before saying, "Max's dad was an angry drunk, and he blamed Max for his mom's death." Understanding flashed through John's dark eyes and a look of horror spread across both his and Bobby's faces. "Sam told me once that you raised us like soldiers," Dean continued, "and I could tell that he hated that, but meeting Max… It really freaked him out. It was like watching a big 'what if' story playing out, and after that…"

"What happened to Max?" John asked softly.

"He… He could move things with his mind," Dean said, "that whole telekinesis thing, and once his powers started developing, he decided to get revenge." Dean swallowed convulsively again. "Sam had visions where Max suffocated his dad, chopped his uncle's head off, and tried to stab his step-mom with a knife."

"Tried?" Bobby asked at once.

"Sam was determined to change that vision before it could occur," said Dean. "He stopped Max, got him to sit down and talk. That's when he found out about Max's mom, the abuse, all of it. He tried to talk some sense into the kid, but Max wouldn't listen and locked him in a closet with a wardrobe stuck in front of it."

Dean paused, remembering the things Sam had told him after Max had shot himself. "Sam told me he had another vision of Max killing me with my gun, but that he managed to make the wardrobe move. He came upstairs where we all were, begged Max to stop, to listen, but the kid was in too much emotional pain. He had got a hold of my gun earlier and he used it to shoot himself in the head."

John was silent for a long moment. "When you say Sam moved the wardrobe, do you mean he knocked it over by shoving it, or…?"

This was the part Dean hadn't wanted to talk about so much. "Telekinesis," he sighed. "It's only ever happened the one time, but he moved that wardrobe with his fucking brain to save me." He looked up and met John's eyes. "Have any of the others shown more than one ability?"

John shook his head. "The others have lived very normal lives compared to our family," he said softly. "Sounds to me like the way I brought you boys up opened him up more to the potential powers he could have than with the others."

Dean shut his eyes. Why did it have to be Sam? Why did Azazel have to become so interested in a mechanic/ex-Marine and the daughter of a Hunter? And why did his mom get up that night? She knew something was coming, didn't she? She'd made a Deal to save his dad before Dean or Sam were even born!

There were too many questions, and not nearly enough answers to go with them.

"So," Bobby said after the compiled list was completed, "what we need to do is see if these signs, the crop failures and stuff, if they're occurring anywhere else." He looked up at John. "Do you have any other cities and dates marked where house fires didn't occur?"

John shook his head. "It never occurred to me to look before," he said. "I thought all the children with these powers had their mothers die the same way as —" He broke off, and Dean knew he was thinking of Mary again. "Our main issue is whether Azazel is going to continue going after other children of if he'll even stay in one spot long enough for us to track him."

"Well, we do know what to look for," Bobby said, "and you've got Sam's laptop to make the search easier."

John smiled, but it was hollow. "Sammy was always better with computers than me," he said before glancing at Dean, who held his hands up and backed away a step.

"Don't look at me," he said, "I still firmly believe that the internet is for porn."

That got a genuine chuckle out of John. "Okay," he said, "let's get to work."

It had taken a direct order from John before Dean finally went to bed that night. John knew his oldest son was desperate the find the younger one, but their usual habits of getting between two and eight hours of sleep a week wasn't going to help them find Sam, especially given Dean's recent stay in the hospital. In truth, John found he was glad for the reprieve. Searching for Azazel these last few months had taken quite a bit out of him, and then being possessed, losing Sam, and Dean's hospitalization were almost too much for the ex-Marine to handle. But now he couldn't sleep; instead, he watched the gentle rise and fall of his son's chest from the bed next to his.

When John had taken off without Dean to follow a new lead on Azazel, he hadn't expected his older son to go find the younger at Stanford to ask for help. Sam had made it pretty clear when he'd left for college that he was done with Hunting, even though John had discovered that he still slept with a bowie knife under the mattress and had an ample supply of salt in the storage room of the apartment he had shared with Jessica Moore.

Jessica… John had never seen her from more than a distance, but it became clear pretty quickly that not only was she beautiful, but that Sam had clearly fallen in love with her. He often wondered, even now, if Sam had been on the verge of proposing to her when her life was so cruelly stolen away. It was so very unfair, the bad hand Sam had been dealt so early in life, never getting the chance to know his mother and having his one chance at a normal life taken away in a flash of fire. Part of him thought that even if they ever managed to kill Azazel, Sam would be unable to return to that brief period of normalcy; losing Jessica had shoved Sam further in John's direction than he had ever thought possible.

Dean shifted in his sleep, mumbling something that seemed to include "Sammy" in it, and John felt his lips quirk up into a smile. From the moment he had placed Sammy in Dean's arms almost one month after his birth, it had become clear to the older brother that he had to take care of the younger, no matter what. The feeling had only been intensified the night Mary had been killed and even though Dean had had times when he thought he didn't want the responsibility of watching out for Sam, he had still managed to come through when Sam needed him. Every time but one, and Dean had learned from that mistake and toughened up in ways John hadn't expected.

John knew part of this was Dean's desire to never disappoint his father, but it was clear that Dean considered himself the protector, often getting into trouble at school for going after anyone who threatened Sam in any way when they were children to keeping Sam safe from any dangers on hunts as teenagers, even if it meant risking his own life. It hadn't always worked, but Sam had managed to avoid many severe injuries as a child, and all because his older brother was determined to watch out for him every day, to do whatever it took to keep him alive.

It was clear that Sam had developed his own desire to watch out for his older brother, as well. John now knew that, despite the independent streak his youngest son had, he depended on Dean to always be there and would do anything to keep him alive. If one were to die, the other would surely break. John worried that their interdependence could have adverse affects on their relationship in the future, but for now he had to believe that their desire to keep the other safe would be enough to see Sam's safe return from Azazel's grasp.

John finally felt the pull of sleep, and allowed it to claim him.

The first real food Sam was allowed was chicken noodle soup with a glass of water. While he was beyond starving, he knew the demon's were doing this only because he'd had nothing but blood for the last three days. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten, between exorcising Meg, finding the Colt, Azazel going after yet another child, and John being possessed by the very demon he had been Hunting for the last 23 years. As he ate, he wondered if Dean was all right, or if he had ended up in the hospital, or even worse…

Sam shook his head. He had to believe that his dad and brother were still alive and kicking, and that they would find him and end this nightmare before anything else could really happen.

This thought returned Sam to the words of the female demon the last time he had been conscious. "You tried to exorcise me," she had whispered to him. "Not that you're strong enough to do any of that yet, but you did it."

What the hell had that meant? Sam closed his eyes and went over what had happened prior to that moment; first there was more demon blood, then he'd been urged to give in, then he had wished that —

Sam's eyes shot open. Drinking demon blood gave him the ability to exorcise demons, to send them back to Hell. But why would a demon give anyone an advantage like that? Exorcisms in Latin were difficult, but entirely possible, so why use his mind to do it when he could take the time to memorize half a dozen different exorcisms on his own?

It was then that Sam finally understood that Azazel's plans were far greater than he had ever thought possible. Someone with that kind of power could rule over any demon, could send them away if they disobeyed. Maybe, if he was forced to drink enough blood, he might even be able to kill a demon. So what did that make Sam, the Anti-Christ or something?

He was afraid the answer was even worse than what he thought.

A blonde-haired demon he didn't recognize entered his room to clear away the empty bowl and cup, and he felt slightly tempted to try and see if he could affect the demon inside the flesh at all. Suddenly, it occurred to him that they might want him to do that, so he remained still and silent, watching the demon as she left his room. Her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly before the door locked her out of sight, and Sam knew he was right.

Well, fine. If they wanted him to use his powers, they were going to have to force him to do anything just as they'd had to force him to drink the damnable blood in the first place. Sam refused to give them what they wanted, even if he felt a craving for more blood, to use the powers he was developing, to give into what Azazel and his cronies so obviously wanted. Resettling himself on the mattress, he crossed his arms over his chest and waited. After all, what else could he do?

As much as he hated to admit it, a full night's rest had done wonders for Dean's body and mind. Even John looked rested for once, wearing fresh clothes and drinking a large cup of coffee as he ate a bowl of cereal. Bobby was cooking up eggs and bacon, the smell making Dean's mouth water as he snagged up his own cup of coffee and eased down into the chair next to his dad.

"I'm glad you slept well," John said, glancing up from his cereal.

"Yeah," Dean said. "I thought I'd had enough sleep at the hospital, but it helped a lot." He took a long sip of his coffee as Bobby set a plate before him, with the eggs, bacon, and two thick slices of buttered toast arranged on it. "Thanks, Bobby."

"No problem," Bobby said, setting down a plate for John and another one for himself. "Need to stay healthy, you know."

Dean rolled his eyes, but nodded his agreement. "So, we taking on Sammy's laptop again?" he asked before taking a large bite of his bacon. John rolled his eyes this time, but nodded before starting in on his own food.

It hadn't been easy, but they had managed to expand their list starting from 1972 up to 1982 of other cities suffering similar symptoms as the other ones that had ended with the fires in the nurseries. Dean had wanted to try going back further, but John had made an odd comment about how that wasn't necessary because Azazel hadn't had a reason for any of this before that year.

Sometimes Dean's father confused the hell outta him.

What bothered him most about John's comment was the location of the first sign of Azazel's existence. It was a convent, located in Illchester, Maryland, and eight nuns had apparently been slaughtered by the priest, a Father Fredric Lehne, who claimed to have been possessed and even remembered the demon's name.

Azazel. What a bastard.

Dean found he was incredibly curious about this priest. If he remembered Azazel's name, then how much more had he been aware of during his possession? The big problem, of course, was finding a way to track down this priest, provided he was even still alive. The even bigger problem was finding a way to do it without alerting his dad.

John had always been a bit secretive since Mary's death, and Dean had just accepted it as a part of who his dad had become. Now he wondered if that penchant for keeping mum was going to be what got Sam killed. Clearly, Azazel had big plans for his younger brother, and from the way John had been talking the last few days, Dean began to suspect that his dad knew something about Azazel's plans, maybe even an end game. But if he did, why couldn't he tell them? Why wouldn't he tell them?

The idea that John knew what was going on and would not tell his sons irritated Dean in ways he had never thought possible. Sam irritated him on a regular basis, but his dad? The feeling was new and it settled in Dean's stomach in a very unpleasant way. He glanced over the top of Sam's laptop at John, who was buried in his old newspaper clippings and other things he had gathered when tracking Azazel on his own. Sam's arguments about how secretive John was floated to the surface of Dean's thoughts, and he looked back down at the laptop to hide his grimace. Like it or not, Sam had made a very good point that Dean had been unwilling to listen to before now.

He stared at the article about the convent, St. Mary's. Why did Azazel disembowel eight nuns? There were no pictures of the crime scene in any public database, but using skills he had somehow managed to pick up from his younger brother, Dean was able to hack into the correct police database. What he found was more than a little disturbing, but the nun who had been draped over the alter on her back, arms spread and head hanging off the edge bothered him more than the others. Her placement was so peculiar compared to the other dead nuns, and Dean wondered what Azazel had been there for, what he might have learned that could have led to him feeding six-month-old babies demon blood?

Mary had made a Deal with Azazel, a deal to save John, and it had led them to their current situation. Dean's eyes narrowed.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you remember about the night Azazel killed you?"

John looked up, clearly startled by the question, and slowly set his newspaper clippings and other research bits onto the table in front of him. "I uh…" He shook his head. "Ten years before she… Your mom, she was really anxious that night, wanted to get away from everything, her parents in particular." He ran a hand through his hair and stared at nothing as he thought back. "I never liked your Grandpa Samuel very much," he added, "and I can tell you the feeling was mutual. I'd just figured they'd had an argument and Mary wanted to elope or something, but then everything went, I dunno, wrong…"

"What d'you mean?" Dean asked, but John shook his head.

"I can't remember much, honestly," he said. "It's all a blur."

"What can you remember?" Dean pressed.

John sighed and met Dean's eyes. "The first thing I can clearly remember is waking up in your mom's arms, confused as hell, and her dad…" He dropped his eyes and frowned again. "Mary told me that he was dead from a heart attack, and she was crying…" He leaned back in his seat. "I found out a few hours later that her mom was dead, as well, neck snapped in her own home." He shook his head once more. "We never found out who killed Deanna, but now I guess we know who was responsible for them both."

Dean was silent for a long moment. Samuel and Deanna? I guess that explains our names, Dean thought before forcing himself to focus again on the subject at hand. "Azazel," he said softly, and John nodded. "I can't believe Mom made a Deal with that demon."

John's eyes were sad as he met Dean's. "Guess she loved me too much," he said, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the table. "I'd only come back from the war a few months earlier, but I still had so many hopes and dreams." He smiled sadly. "Your mom told me once that she loved how I still believed in happily-ever-after after the Marines, and part of me thought that was how it'd be forever after, but…" He blinked rapidly, cleared his throat loudly and looked away. "Anyway," he said gruffly, "that's all I got. Find anything else yet?"

Dean shook his head, even though he was bursting with more questions; it was clear that John had said all he was going to say. "Still looking."

John nodded and returned to his clippings while Dean dropped his gaze back to the nun on the convent alter. Azazel had learned something in 1972, and used it to his advantage a year later when he found Mary and John. The questions still remained: Why did he bleed into the mouths of these children? What was his end game?

Dean decided that he was going to track down that priest, see if there were any answers the man could give him if he was still alive to talk. A trip to St. Mary's looked to be necessary, as well. After all, if John wasn't going to tell him what was going on and where all this was going, then he was just going to have to figure it out himself before anything really bad could happen to Sam.

Feeling a new surge of determination, Dean tucked back into his research of places Azazel had been to since the night he had killed Mary. He'd find the answers, one way or another.

TBC...