18

Red Dead Revolver

Patrick stirred in his sleep, face screwing up in pain. He moaned, turning his face deeper into the pillow.

"Shh…" Lisbon soothed, touching his cheek. "It's alright, Patrick. It's okay. Shh…" He gasped, eyes opening, looking around. "Hey, hey, Patrick, it's alright. I'm here, it's okay."

"Lisbon?" She nodded, stroking his cheek. "What's happening?"

"It's almost over," she assured, smiling. "Sam and Dean found a way to make this all go away, alright?" He nodded, looking around nervously.

"H-have they come back?" His voice was so small, bloodshot eyes so scared.

"No, no honey, they haven't come back. Everything's gonna be alright. We won't let them hurt you anymore, okay?"

"Wh-what do they have to do? C-can they m-make them rest?" He trembled. God, even after all of this happened he was still more concerned about them than himself. She winced internally; he loved them so much.

"Patrick, listen to me," she said gently, holding his face. "Those things you saw were not your wife or daughter or even your father. It wasn't real. It was just an illusion." He frowned, looking confused, lips trembling.

"I-I don't understand."

"A demon is doing this to you, to all of those other people too. But Sam and Dean know how to get rid of it. Your daughter and your wife do not hate you. They don't blame you for any of that. The demon just used that to hurt you, alright? I swear. They love you just as much as you love them, okay?" She said softly, fingers combing through his hair.

There were tears on his face, still shaking. "Really?" He looked so small and lost. She hugged him tight, kissing his forehead.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. It's gonna be okay. This'll all be over soon," she assured.

"I just want it to be over," he gulped, breathing as ragged as his heart.

"I know, I know. Just rest, sweetheart. Just rest, it'll be alright. Shh…" She lied him back down, caressing his forehead. Patrick shut his eyes, not sleeping, but trying to get away from everything. He didn't know how to handle this. And it wasn't like he could be any help as far as this demon thing went.

So he waited. For what, he wasn't sure.

He leaned into Lisbon's hand, still shaking a little.

"Alright," Sam said, walking into the office, heading for the break-room. Everyone else filed in behind him. "We don't have to try and find who's possessed."

"What?" Lisbon blanched.

"All we have to do is perform this ritual and it'll banish it."

"So what're the shotguns for?"

"Uh, just in case," Dean said. "They're not gonna really do anything 'cept draw attention away from Patrick and maybe piss it off."

"Here," Castiel said heavily, appearing out of nowhere, making everyone jump.

"We need to put a bell on you," Dean said, taking the holy oil from him. Sam returned with a bowl, handing it to the now weary angel.

Castiel collapsed in the nearest chair, his hand over his eyes.

"You alright?" Sam asked.

"Out of the country is a little harder than moving around this one. Especially when I have to retrieve even more Holy Oil," he sighed.

"Well, uh," Sam held the bowl out to him. "Could you just, uh, touch this?" The angel leaned his head back in the chair, eyes shut, and held out his hand, snatching the bowl and handing it back to him.

"Did you find the herbs you needed?" He asked.

"Yeah. We had some in the trunk. I thought we were out of Pennyroyal but we've got enough to get by…I think."

"You think?" Van Pelt asked, skeptical.

"Look, it's not like we've dealt with the demon of fear before," Dean snapped. "So we're kinda wingin' it."

"That's great," Cho said, cocking the sawn-off. "Winging it always works."

Dean dropped the bits of plant in the bowl, pouring some of the Holy Oil in with it.

"Alright, Sammy, start readin'."

Sam began the incantation, reading from the paper Bobby had e-mailed to them.

"So, this Latin stuff really works?" Rigsby asked.

"Yep," Dean nodded. "Has for forever."

"Who the hell figured that out?" Cho said. Dean shrugged.

"No idea," He said truthfully. "There isn't like, a book or anything with all of this stuff in it. You've gotta pick it up as you go."

"It's amazing you guys get anything done," Van Pelt scoffed. "With that much chaos I'm surprised you guys get this much done." Dean smirked at her.

"Not everything's neat and perfect, sweetheart," Dean said. "And sometimes craziness is the only thing that gets this crap done. That and a crap-ton of luck."

"So your entire line of work is built on winging it?" Cho asked.

"Pretty much, yeah," Dean said proudly.

"Yeah, can't see that blowing up in your face in the near future," he said plainly.

"Alright," Sam said. "That should do it. Dean, light it."

The elder Winchester nodded, taking a Zippo from his pocket and striking it.

He was just about to drop it when the lights started to flicker.

"What was that?" Rigsby asked.

"Son of a bitch," Dean growled, right before he, and everyone else in the room –save Patrick- flew against the walls.

Patrick sat up, wincing, looking around, terrified as the lights continued to flicker and the scanner went haywire, computer screens blinking on and off.

"What's happening?" Lisbon yelled over the blaring radios, confused as to why she couldn't move.

"The demon!" Sam bellowed, fighting uselessly against the invisible restraints it had put on them.

"Cas?" Dean exclaimed, looking over at the tired angel struggling feebly against the wall and gaining nothing. "Aw, damn."

Patrick was waiting for something horrible to happen; for see his wife shrieking that she hated him, his daughter ready to "play" some more, or his father, ready to beat him again.

But then it all stopped. The lights, the computers, the scanner, the radios, all of it, sending an eerie silence through the room.

"Is it gone?" Van Pelt whispered from her spot next to Rigsby on the window of Lisbon's office.

"No," Dean said, struggling as well. "If it was, we'd be on the ground." He glanced at the Zippo lying on the floor at Cho's feet. "Damn it."

"Well, where's-?"

"Minelli?" Lisbon frowned. "What are you doing here?"

"What the hell is going on here?" The older man bellowed, looking up at her, stopping in front of a still petrified Patrick.

"Uh," Lisbon glanced over at Sam and Dean. The man smiled, his eyes rolling back, revealing a pair of white, glowing eyes. The brother's eyes widened.

"I'm just screwing with you," he chortled. His luminescent eyes moved to the brothers. "Howdy boys." He glanced over at Patrick. "And hello Patrick Jane. You and I have been having so much fun, haven't we?" He laughed at Patrick's frightened stare. "Well, now we get to have even more."

-Uh oh! I know, I know. Bad Chloe! Evil cliffie! But you'll have more soon! Promise!-