Author's Note: What can I say? My word count sucks lately. My brain isn't here. It's waiting.
Vermillion, North Dakota
"Name a price," Sam ground out through gritted teeth. "I'll pay anything."
"You're not worth anything," a voice called out from across the room. Before Sam could turn, he was slammed against the wall, unable to move. He fought the massive pressure that held him to wall. As he scrabbled against the wall he caught sight of someone behind him.
Crowley moved into his vision and tutted his disapproval. "I knew you were on a bender, Sam. But this… this is bad for our friendship."
He smiled as Sam's eyes narrowed in anger. "So I get summoned by Charlotte to oversee a difficult deal and here I find you, and now it seems as though you've gone and slaughtered a bar full of my constituents and nearly killed one of my favorite girls—hardly the way to get a discount."
Sam struggled against Crowley's hold; he fought against the massive pressure until he managed to turn his head and smile menacingly at Crowley. With bloodied teeth he snarled at the demon. "I don't need a deal to—"
With a small flick of Crowley's hand, Sam slid further up the wall and was left hanging there, unable to touch the floor and barely able to breathe. "Shut up, moose. I'll deal with you later."
From across the room, Bobby cradled Alice's head as he watched Crowley walk to Charlotte and pluck her from the floor. "Now, this is important, Charlotte…did you strike a deal with him?"
She didn't look at him as she shook her head. "No, my king. He has your power. How can he—"
Without giving her an explanation, Crowley motioned for her to leave, but called her name as she neared the door. "Not a word of this to anyone, Charlotte… or you'll be the one begging for a deal."
She nodded her understanding before rushing out of sight.
"Is this what my help was for? So you could lose Sam and let him run amuck with power? I told Alice to just let him die back in that motel room," Crowley mused angrily as he surveyed the room and slowly walked to Bobby, who was still holding a wadded up shirt to the back of Alice's head. The floor was covered in slick blood, and even as Bobby struggled to keep pressure on the wound the puddle under them grew. Alice was didn't even wince as Bobby tried to move her; she was far too quiet for his liking.
"Now might not be the time," Bobby snapped without looking up.
Crowley stopped at the edge of the bloody mess on the floor. "Anything to be done about this?"
Bobby shook his head. He knew Alice's skull was cracked, probably crushed by the repetitive hits it had taken to the concrete floor as Sam had lost his temper. He didn't know how long it would take her to die, much less how long it would take the phoenix in her to burn through; he knew she wasn't fighting to live, but to surpass the pain. He could feel her breathing getting more and more erratic and watched as her hands clenched and unclenched. If they didn't leave before she died, they'd all be consumed by her fire.
"We came to get him," Bobby muttered as he glanced up at Sam, still pinned the wall. "We think we found a way to cure him."
Crowley turned and watched as Sam continued to struggle before surveying the slaughter that filled the room. "Will it work?"
"That or kill him."
"Good." He didn't miss the way Bobby glanced up at him. "You know as well as I that he can't be allowed to roam free with that kind of power… My power."
"He won't. He'll either be cured or he'll die trying."
Crowley turned and walked toward the door, stepping over bodies as he did. "I hope you plan on cleaning this mess up on your way out of town."
Bobby glanced from Alice to Sam, still pinned to the wall. He couldn't move Sam, clean up the mess, and deal with Alice at the moment. He only had two hands and there wasn't any help nearby to call. He dropped his head and let a sigh loose. "I need help moving Sam. That syringe was mixed with sedatives but there's no guarantee it'll work with all that demon blood in him."
Crowley slowly turned on his heel and frowned at Bobby. "Where exactly do you plan on putting him?"
"The trunk," Bobby grunted as he motioned toward the doorway. "Hoping some of the hex marks inside might help hold him so I can drive him back to the yard."
Crowley nodded slowly and turned back toward Sam. "Let's get this done quickly then, shall we?"
Ten minutes later, Bobby slammed the Impala's trunk closed with unnecessary force. He was ready to shake the evil out of Sam; the kid was smug with the raw power eating through him. He ignored the hateful words that seeped out of the trunk; Sam could yell all he wanted. Bobby was done listening to him. The meds hadn't kicking in yet and Bobby was beginning to think they never would; he'd just have to pray the hex marks would continue to hold him.
"And now for Alice," Crowley said. "What will you do for her?"
"Probably only one thing I can do," Bobby muttered as he headed back into the bar. He figured the easiest way was to just end her suffering. He kneeled next to her and gently shook her shoulder. "Alice, you awake?"
One eye was swollen shut, but the other cracked open a small sliver before she closed it back with a grunt. She slowly brought a hand to her head and gingerly tried to touch it. "Shit…," she mumbled through the incredible pain and pressure that was mounting in her skull. Her vision was blurring and fading fast.
"It's going to get worse," Bobby said. "Pretty damn sure your skull is cracked. I could take you to the hospital and try to let them repair the damage. You'll have to do all the human things, like heal up over time... or there's the alternative… You want me to call an ambulance?"
Alice responded with a wave of her hand, no. They both knew she wasn't going to opt for that. A broken bone, sure; she could wait it out but a probable life threatening brain injury, no. She couldn't risk dying in the ambulance or in surgery.
"Or," Bobby said with a sigh. "We could just put you out of your misery and let your nature takes it course. I can't risk putting you in the car; if you spark in there we'll all go up in flames... I'll take Sam and get his ass in the box."
Alice tried to think past the pain that was consuming her. They didn't really have a choice; this was just his nice way of saying he had to leave her behind.
"Once Sam's in the box, I'll head back and clean up this mess," Bobby said with a small sigh.
"I'll do it," Alice mumbled, her words were starting to slur.
Bobby frowned at her words. "What?"
She reached out and pulled him closer, barely able to whisper the last few words. "Give me fuel, give me fire…"
Bobby slowly nodded his understanding and headed back to the car. He pushed past Crowley and yanked the Impala's door open and began rifling through the gear on the backseat. He grabbed the can of gas and a lighter from the glove box.
"What are you doing," Crowley asked when he saw the gas can.
"What you asked. Cleaning up this mess," Bobby snapped as he spun the cap loose. He headed for Alice.
"You don't have to do this," he told her as he rolled her onto her side, kneeling in the rapidly cooling blood that covered the floor. Her skin was already getting warm; regardless of if she wanted the lighter or not, the fire was coming.
She didn't say anything as she opened and closed her hand, waiting for the lighter. He carefully placed it in her bloody hand and wrapped her slick fingers around it. "I'll honk the horn when I'm outside. Go whenever you're ready."
The smell of gasoline burned his nose as he walked around the room, dousing the bodies closest to Alice until the can was empty. He glanced back at her from the doorway. He felt ill as she held up the lighter in salute; unlike so many other fires, this one had been inflicted upon her. The curse had brought countless fires, pain, and loss; but this had been brought on all because Sam had lost his demonic temper and taken it out on her. Bobby knew he should be thankful that she had any means of surviving at all, but that didn't lessen his anger with Sam. He had done enough research to know what she had lost; and what she lost every time she sparked.
He gave a quick glance at the clock over the bar as he walked past. He didn't know how long it would take for her to be back from the ashes this time, but he needed her. With a wave, he nodded at Alice and headed out the door. He leaned into the Impala and honked twice. Climbing into the car, he was surprised to see Crowley sitting in the passenger seat.
Crowley scowled at Bobby, before glancing back to the bar. "I'll ride along. This will have been for nothing if he escapes along the way."
Inside the bar, Alice was struggling. Her hands were slick with blood and even though she knew fire was the best way to end her misery, she hated it. No matter how many times she had burned through over the years, it never got any easier. The pain never lessened and no amount of steeling herself for it ever managed to make it more tolerable. She knew Bobby was probably waiting to see the fire before leaving with Sam. He couldn't risk walking back in now, even without the gasoline she knew the fire would tear through the building in seconds if her curse chose to show itself.
She knew her body was failing. She had experienced death before, followed by the searing fire that would leave her to be rebuilt in the ashes. Most of the time, the fire came on its own with its own timeline; but every now and again, something went wrong. Like a hunt. Like Sam.
Letting out a shaky sigh, she rolled her finger along the flint. "Goddammit, Sam…Going to kill you for this."
Bobby was about to pull the Impala onto the road when he saw it in the rearview mirror. The flash of the flames in the early morning light was unmistakable. He hit the brakes as he adjusted the mirror. Glass flew from the windows as the fire engulfed the building, some part of him wanted to stay and see it through. Phoenix fire was wild, unpredictable, and eerily beautiful but he knew Alice wouldn't appreciate him watching. It was what set her apart from them. It was what made her dangerous.
Somewhere Elsewhere
Dean struggled against the Fay that held him, trying with his remaining strength to free himself. The ugly Fay twisted his arm, threatening to dislocate his shoulder, until Dean was forced to his knees. The beautiful Seelie towered over him. "Know that your sacrifice allows for the survival of my people. No Fay shall be cast into Hell and contorted into a First Demon. Never again shall such an abomination stalk the Earth."
"Is that supposed to make dying easier," Dean muttered around a chest rattling cough. "I'll pass on this honor bullshit."
"Enough!" The Seelie yelled. "Your permission is not required."
Dean fell silent as he watched another Seelie enter the room, holding a clay vessel and a small box. He tried to raise high enough to see into it, but the ugly Unseelie twisted his arm tighter, forcing him down even lower. He fought to breathe in the position as another cough came.
"What are you going to do? Cut my soul out?" Dean spat as he eyed the ornate box.
"The soul is indeed intangible, a knife could not harm it," the Seelie said. "But with the right words, your soul will become untethered from your body."
He picked up the clay vessel and paused. "The others were not like you. They succumbed to the food offered to them and entered the dreams we made for them. They felt nothing, and will feel nothing. You fought every attempt we made to help your transition into your role as a Teind. Would you like to rethink this choice?"
Dean turned his head slightly in the Unseelie's iron grip. "Are you seriously asking me if I want a fucking cookie right now?"
The Seelie's mouth twisted into a sour frown. "Difficult to the end." The gray Unseelie gripped him tighter, if possible, as the Seelie brought his hands to Dean's face.
"Wait!" Dean cried out. "…There is something I want..."
The Seelie smiled triumphantly. "Mercy?"
"Your name," Dean ground out, letting out a shaky breath. "When I get out of this, I want to know who I'm coming for."
The Seelie frowned and stood his full height. "My heavenly name was lost… One who performs this task is known as Læce."
Dean repeated the name, rolling it around in his mouth and committing it to memory. "Where are the souls? The other ninety-nine?"
"Awaiting your soul to enter the vessel, to begin your Hell bound journey so the tithe may be received in full. Now, if you are done wasting precious time…"
"Just trying to run out the clock," Dean wheezed out. "Can't blame a guy for trying…"
"The soul can leave the body in so many ways…some even cast it out to walk freely and return to their flesh at their leisure. Others give it away. Some bind it into their body, never allowing them to ease into the next life."
"Did you talk this much to the other guys? Cause I swear their bodies were being loaded faster than this."
"Impatience is a human trait, unfit for a Seelie." Læce frowned and leaned down until he was eye level with Dean. He grabbed his jaw tightly and forced Dean's head back, staring into his eyes with such intensity that Dean couldn't keep a shiver from racing up his spine. "Your soul is right there….burning bright…Windows to the soul, isn't that what you humans say?"
Sioux Falls, South Dakota
Bobby none to gently hit the brakes as he pulled the Impala as close to the cellar door as he could manage; he didn't care how banged up Sam got in the trunk. Everything had turned to shit and Bobby was the only one still standing to see it to the end. And to have Crowley helping with Sam was just another insult on the pile.
He slammed the door behind him as he lumbered toward the trunk. He turned the keys in his hand as he eyed the trunk. Once he opened it, it was on Crowley to keep Sam from escaping. Or killing someone.
Crowley stepped in front of the trunk and adjusted his suit. "Ready when you are."
"And you're sure you can hold him? There's no guarantee the sedatives are going to slow him down."
"He's got a fraction of my power; whereas I am the King of Hell. I can hold him."
Bobby turned the key in the lock and popped the trunk open before heading to the cellar doors. He didn't stay to watch the interaction. He needed to get the doors cast open and the box into position.
Crowley grabbed Sam's arm as it swung into view, taking himself outside of the seal that Crowley himself couldn't cross into. "Now, now, Sammy. Let's get one thing straight…" Crowley used Sam's arm to yank him upright in the trunk, bringing dark eyes into view. "You're power…this little jaunt you've enjoyed thus far, is over. No more trouble, aye?"
"I'm going to—" Sam swung his free arm and just brushed Crowley's cheekbone before Crowley grabbed Sam's arm and jerked him from the trunk effortlessly. He slammed Sam to his knees, his hands going to his shoulders. He dug his thumbs under Sam's clavicles; he dug deeper as Sam tried to pull away.
"You'll do nothing."
Sam's black eyes stared up at Crowley, a twisted grin on his face. His teeth were still bloody from the bar. "I could hurt you. Maybe for the first time ever, I could actually hurt you."
Crowley glanced at the cellar's open doors as he shrugged. "And I could kill you. Right here, right now. Without anyone here to stop me. I'll tell them you got loose. That it was the only way to stop you…you've caused enough trouble by now…I bet some part of Bobby would even be relieved to find your corpse out here. I could do it and not even leave a mark on you, blame the sedatives they gave you, say your heart must have given out." He stepped closer to Sam, bending his head low and all but whispering in his ear. "You've caused the death of your dear friend Alice. Dean died and you can't even stay out a demon bar long enough to find his missing soul. You want to do your last friend a favor? Don't make him kill you—die in that damn box…go to Hell… and after you do that, I'll put you to work for me…"
Sam's twisted smile faded from his face, there was something else... a different sensation. Sweat burst across his skin as a burning heat seemed to pour from him. A searing pain tore through him, making him nearly double over even as Crowley held him firmly. He didn't remember this from last time. He tried to push through the new pain. This wasn't over yet. He still had a chance. He closed his eyes and felt the power burning in him. "I just want to find Dean," he forced out. "I can still find him."
Crowley chuckled in his ear. "Good intentions, Sam. How it always begins."
He let go of Sam and took a step back, watching as Sam staggered to gain his balance. "You can walk into that cellar and hope like hell that Bobby can actually cure you, or you can run and I'll strike you down and escort you to Hell right now."
Sam fought the fog that was slowly creeping into his head. He knew something was wrong. He tried to take a step toward Crowley and swayed as his head spun. His fevered skin burned as he ran a hand over his face, wiping the sweat from his eyes.
Sam looked from the open cellar door to the road. He could feel the power burning brighter in him. It threatened to consume him if he didn't act soon but he could barely stand. He knew if he could get away he could hitchhike. He could find Dean. He could fix everything—or he could die trying.
From down in the cellar, Bobby waited impatiently. He started up the steps just as Sam appeared at the top, rolling ungraciously down the steep wooden steps. Bobby quickly moved out of the way; Sam just missed him as he sailed past. Sam rolled to a stop as he crashed into the wooden box Bobby had built.
"Sam, you alright?" Bobby moved to help him but Crowley trudged past him.
Sam pulled himself to his knees. "Bobby—"
"Apparently, those sedatives are beginning to work after all…Don't help him, he tried to run for it…let's hope he broke something on the way down here; might slow him down a bit." Crowley stalked past Bobby and grabbed Sam's shirt, lifting him and dropping him unceremoniously into the box, even as Sam cried out in pain. Bobby hesitated, instinct was to check on the boys when they were hurt, but this was different.
Ignoring Sam's groaning, Bobby grabbed the heavy lid to the box and began dragging it into place. He had carefully drilled air holes throughout; he knew that Sam wasn't going to suffocate but he would feel like he was. Most people weren't claustrophobic until they made the harsh discovery that they actually were. Sam had a history of being restrained and this was going to prey upon all that old fear.
Sam slowly opened his eyes and struggled to focus on the person standing over him. The edges of the wooden box filled his vision making his head spin, they were to close. He moved to sit up but a firm hand forced him back against the hard wood. "It's the only way, Sam."
Before he could say anything, a large board blocked out the light as it was firmly fitted into place. Sam instantly tried to push it away; it was resting just inches from his face. "Bobby! Let me out!"
The board started to give way as he anxiously pushed against it. As he tipped it upward, he could see Bobby trying to steady the board with one hand, the other hand held a hammer. Sam felt himself begin to panic. He fought harder against the heavy plank, summoning the power inside of himself without even thinking to do so. As he pushed against the board, it flew past Bobby, forcing him to move back. Sam's panicked chatter filled the room as he tried to pull himself from the box, he hurt everywhere. His skin burned like fire. "Bobby, don't do this. I don't need this—"
"You'll die, Sam!"
"I can try—"
"NO!" Bobby yelled back. "Enough of the 'I can do it by myself' bull crap! Look around you, Sam…This mess, is because of you." His voice lowered as he stepped closer to Sam. "You've done enough damage. It's time to face the music."
Bobby moved to push Sam back into the box; he felt the heat rolling off Sam before he even touched him. Without a word, Bobby pulled on Sam's shirt to reveal the injection site on his shoulder. If the angry, red lines hadn't appeared in such a perfect feathered pattern surrounding the site, he would have assumed the needle hadn't been clean. But the needle was new and Sam had never been allergic to anything… "Phoenix blood," he muttered to himself, remembering the concoction he had used. "Crap."
He moved back from Sam and stared at him, considering what to do. Honestly, he hadn't even given it any thought when he had asked Alice to conceal the sedatives in her own blood. He had just been concerned with fooling Sam. He glanced at Crowley who was staring curiously at the mark on Sam. He had to decide what to do. He didn't how Phoenix blood would affect Sam but he had to assume the sudden fever was part of it. He needed to call Jenn.
"What did you do," Sam slurred as he shakily wiped sweat from his eyes. His hands were shaking and black spots seemed to fill his vision. He felt like he was on fire.
Bobby shuffled his feet and folded his arms. "You were already hopped up on demon blood. We figured that our best shot to bring you back alive was sedatives. We knew you wouldn't go for it, so we mixed it with blood to disguise it. Alice was hoping to convince you it was demon blood…we figured human blood wouldn't fool you…so Alice used hers…"
For a moment, the men were silent.
Bobby cleared his throat and turned back to Sam. "I don't know what the Phoenix blood will do to you, but I do know the demon blood will kill you. It doesn't change what we have to do."
Fear crossed Sam's face. He struggled to roll himself out of the box. He needed water. Ice. Anything to stave the heat. The idea of being trapped in a small box, on fire, was enough to make him panic. He fought the hands grabbing him and struggled to see through his blurry vision. Firm hands grabbed him and pushed him back into the box, scraping his arms on the rough wood.
Bobby fought with Sam, trying to force him into the shallow box. He knew this was bad. The demon blood, the phoenix blood, the drugs, the panic…it was only a matter of time before Sam's fear turned back into anger.
Sam managed to get one leg hooked on the edge of the box and levered himself up, dizziness making him grip the edge of the box tightly. As a strong hand tried to pry his hand loose from the box, Sam lost it. His temper flared and without a thought he sent Bobby across the room.
Crowley grabbed Sam and without mercy or care, shoved Sam back into the box. He grabbed the lid and shoved it in place. Bobby climbed to his feet and winced, he was getting to old for this. Seeing Crowley holding the lid firmly in place, Bobby grabbed the hammer and the box of nails. Sam was going to hate this part; hell, he was going to hate it too.
Vermillion, South Dakota
The pain was unending and throughout. She could feel her bones breaking in the searing heat. It was hard for her to fathom, the variety of sensations that came with a body dying. She, herself, the very consciousness of who she was, didn't burn away. Her senses were dulled, except for that of pain. She could barely make out the sound of the building collapsing around her, sparks filling the air. She just had to wait, to resist the urge to become feral from pain.
Some part of her wished she could simply die with her flesh, be gone and never be made to endure this again. Another part of her wished for rain to curb the fire. Mostly, she just wished it was over.
Somewhere Elsewhere
The Seelie ignored the pain filled cries as he again recited the ancient words. He had done this countless times but he couldn't think of a single man who had endured it without having first entered the Fay dream state. He knew he could offer one of the wafers again; he could even force it upon him having the Unseelie to pry Dean's mouth open. He knew it would render the man calm and compliant, but now…he truly wanted to see what his future soldier could endure. He had picked this man for good reasons and now he was close enough to see the defiance and determination for himself. If he could break him, his army would be better for it. A faint light began to seep from Dean's eyes; Læce repeated the words faster and louder. It was nearly over.
Dean's cries became fearful and pain filled as he arched against the Unseelie's iron grip and tried to twist from his grasp. He felt like he was being ripped in two.
The Seelie squinted as the blinding light emerged from Dean's eyes and mouth. He watched as the beautiful, blinding light gathered in a swirling mist that hovered inches from Dean's face. Removing the lid from the clay vessel, he watched as Dean's soul slowly flowed into the container. Dean's cries lessened and finally ceased as the last of the light disappeared.
Settling the stopper back into the vessel, he handed it to the other Seelie behind him. "Place this with the others. Send word that Lucifer's tithe is ready. We meet at moonrise."
As the Seelie disappeared from the shack with Dean's soul, Læce turned back to Dean; he hung limply in the Unseelie's grip, breathing but still. He grinned triumphantly as he reached out and touched the nape of Dean's neck, leaving a small mark behind. "You'll lead the men to victory."
Dean bucked against his touch and without any warning the Seelie found himself face to face with the soulless man. Dean snarled and fought the Unseelie's touch. Læce took a step back and opened the small box, pulling something familiar into view.
"It's unsettling, I'm sure. Your body is here, ready to fight without fear or regret. Your soul will awaken in Hell and be made to bear an eon of hardship. To endure two lifetimes is more than most men can withstand. That is why you and the others were chosen. You're different."
Dean's savage gaze tracked the Seelie.
"As much as I would release you and your army unto Hell this very night, we have more soldiers to gather. You'll sleep until the horn of the Wild Hunt wakes you." Læce stepped up to Dean and opened his hand. A small wafer sat in his hand, the sweet smell turning Dean's stomach. Soulless and defiant, Dean spat at the Seelie.
Læce backhanded Dean and spoke to the Unseelie that held Dean. "Open his mouth."
Rough hands pried his mouth open, the acrid taste of the filthy Fay's hands made Dean gag. The Seelie slid the wafer between his lips and instructed the Unseelie to hold his mouth closed.
"You won't spit it out this time," Læce said as he pulling something small from the box and held it up in the light. A gold needle and thread. The Unseelie held Dean's jaw painfully tight as the beautiful Seelie stepped closer and touched Dean's mouth. "Dream until you're needed. Or you'll be chained to that tree until the horn blows."
Dean closed his eyes and tried to focus on the wafer that was slowly beginning to dissolve in his mouth.
As Læce slowly pushed the needle into Dean's flesh and pulled the gold thread through, he felt the satisfaction of having completed yet another tithe, preventing his people from the slaughter Lucifer had promised eons ago. Knotting the delicate thread, he glanced up and found Dean's pained and hateful gaze following his every move. Læce smiled when Dean's eyes faded to white. As he slumped in the Unseelie's grasp, Læce pointed toward the door. "Put him with the others."
Author's Note: This is getting more complicated. What the fuck are these characters doing?! I drag my ass through this chapter and they suddenly have all these plans and issues. This was supposed to be a hundred word prompt. So much for that!
Please leave a review with your thoughts. And how badly do we dislike Læce? I'm wondering if he'll survive the end.
BTW: Winjennster, I know you'll see this. I dreamed I was looking at Dean's MRI, as his confident doctor (not as his worried momma). I woke up with you on my mind and Lost and Found's name coming out of my mouth. Reading it, I rushed to the ending to see Dean be okay. I smiled. I cried. I loved. XOXO