... another chapter, vicar?
You can blame the hold-up with this one on Leahelisabeth; I had to do a bit of a re-write to include some battered Winchesters.
Chapter Nineteen
The young male demon wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the Pit, he knew that, but he was starting to think that the nun they'd abducted made him look like a frigging genius. He'd expected to have to deal with screaming and flailing and weeping and wailing and fervent desperate praying. Instead, she had been unfailingly courteous and cooperative, and was taking a polite interest in proceedings, a bit like a member of Britain's Royal Family visiting a farm or something, and saying things like, "So, what do you do here, then? Cut pigs' balls off whilst they writhe and squeal? Well done!" She was being more Zen than Catholic about her situation, if you asked him.
Still, he wasn't about to complain. That vicious old bitch he'd possessed had truly been a lot stronger in mind than in body, and his headache was still there.
"So, I just loop this around your feet," the demon demonstrated the noose hanging from a rusting eyelet in the ceiling, "And we hang you upside down, then I get that basin over there," he indicated a large vessel off to one side, "And we cut your throat, and collect your blood."
"Won't it start to coagulate?" asked Sister Felicity anxiously.
"It doesn't seem to," shrugged the demon. "It could be the scribings on the basin, I guess."
"I may have to ask to borrow your belt," Sister Fic told him a little sheepishly. "For my skirts."
"Huh?" the demon gave her a bemused look.
"If you hang me upside down, my skirts are going to all fall down around my head," she pointed out. "That's pretty damned undignified. Plus, they'll get in the way. They'll be hanging down where my head is, and the blood will get all over them, and they'll soak it up... will you get into trouble if you don't get enough?"
The demon looked thoughtful. "Uh, yeah, he'll probably be really angry..."
"Don't talk to her!" the female demon rejoined them. "Just get ready to do it!"
"Look, I just don't want anybody getting into trouble because of me," she stated. "Not even a demon. It's a nun thing." The female demon glared at her. "But, if I put your belt around my knees, my skirts stay up, you cut my throat, I die quick, you collect your blood, all done and dusted." She smiled brightly, and held out her hand.
"Well, uh, okay," he agreed reluctantly. The female demon nodded, and he handed over his belt.
"This will only take a sec," Sister Fic told them, bending down, "Then perhaps if I sit down, you can... oh. Er." She straightened up again.
"Now what?" demanded the female demon impatiently.
"Um, this is kind of embarrassing," Felicity said, "But... I really need to pee."
"What?" sighed the male demon, with the sort of bemused expression that parents all over the world use when they say things like 'But you went only ten minutes ago!' or 'Why didn't you go before we left?'.
"Sorry," the nun apologised again. "Look, I'm about to have my throat cut, you ought to excuse me a bit of bladder weakness."
"Hold it until you get to Heaven," snarled the female demon. "String her up!"
"But what if it contaminates the blood?" Felicity yelped.
Both demons looked at her.
"I'm really frightened," she went on, "What with being sacrificed and everything, and I really need to go. So, what happens if I, you know, while you're bleeding me out? And it runs down, and, and, contaminates the blood?" The demons exchanged a mystified glance. "Can you still use the blood if it's contaminated with pee?"
"Oh, Lucifer's nuts..." scowled the male demon.
"We'll just have to chance it," the female smiled unpleasantly.
"But... won't you get into trouble?" asked the nun solicitously.
That made them hesitate.
"Look we're not going on a bathroom visit!" snapped the woman, "We're demons, not home room monitors!"
"I don't need a bathroom," Sister Fic assured them. "See that waste bin over there? I could use that. It's kind of an emergency," she added, crossing her legs. "There's nowhere for me to run, anyway."
"Oh, for fuck's sake," muttered the male, "Take her over there, and be quick."
"Why do I have to do it?" yelled the female demon angrily.
"Because I don't want to watch a nun pee, all right?" he shouted back. "Just... do it!"
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"Come on, come on," Sam muttered under his breath, trying another sigil over the one under the handle. There was a small, palpable crack as the malign influence gave way, and the warding broke. "Okay, we're in."
"Search grid," instructed Dean, heading one way as Sam headed the other. "Find her, and if you find them, check in."
"Gotcha." Sam hefted his gun and his demon blade, and set off into the darkness, whilst Dean and Jimi made their way stealthily through the shadows.
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"Won't be a minute," Sister Fic said apologetically, making her way to the small waste bin. "It's just like going camping," she added, as she started to gather her habit out of the way.
"Hurry up," snapped her reluctant escort, "Or I'll give you something to really wet yourself about."
"Okay, okay." Sister Felicity took care of business. "Ohhhhh, that's better..."
"Shut up!"
"Sorry." She straightened her habit. "Much better. Thank you. Oh, hang on, I'll just belt my skirts, then we'll be ready to go." She looked down. "Er could one of you give me a hand with this?"
The female demon rolled her eyes. "Get over here and watch her," she snapped at her male accomplice.
He let out a put-upon huff, and stomped over. "What the hell is it now?" he moaned.
"Just gotta get my skirts belted," Sister Fic said. "Here, can you hold this bit out of the way?"
The female demon grudgingly obliged, bending down to grab at the flapping fabric.
"Thank you," Sister Felicity said brightly, bending down to pick up the belt.
Only, it wasn't the belt that she picked up and threw at them...
When the demons fell to the floor, writhing and screaming as the hissing steam rose from them, she shot across the room, snatched up one of the markers they'd been using, and ran.
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Sam pulled out his cell and started running when he heard the agonised screaming coming from somewhere in the building.
"I heard it," Dean replied, "Somewhere upstairs, I think. Be careful!"
He found a metal staircase, and made his way quickly and quietly up the stairs, following the screams.
"Where?" he asked urgently when he saw Dean and Jimi making their way in the same direction.
"That way," nodded Dean, as Jimi growled and headed silently for the other end of the long corridor.
In a wide space cleared of furniture, the floor was intricately marked with arcane symbols. To one side, there was an empty water cooler, and an overturned waste paper bin. And a demon, drenched, screeching in pain, and billowing with sulphurous steam.
It raised a hand and an invisible blow threw Dean across the room. He landed with a squawk as Sam sank his blade into it, and scrunched his eyes as it burned out.
"Dean!" he scuttled to where his brother was gasping and swearing.
" 'M fine," his big brother wheezed, "Go… find Fic!"
"She's not here," Sam looked around as he hauled his brother to his feet, then saw the second large puddle, and the trail of wet footsteps. "But it looks like another one is still after her."
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The female demon staggered after her prey, trailing greasy, stinking steam where the holy… stuff had touched her. She gasped in pain and swore as she crashed through one door after another, throwing aside the furniture that had been hastily but futilely pushed against them.
"I'll fucking kill you!" she shrieked, partly in rage and partly in pain, "I'll make you suffer, and then I'll fucking kill you! You bitch!" She paused, looking around. That fucking nun couldn't have gone far...
She heard the scraping sound of something, a chair perhaps, being pushed across a floor, wedged under a door handle, maybe.
With a cruel smirk, she gave the door a shove, and it banged open.
"You fucking bitch," she repeated, glaring at the nun who stood in the middle of the room. "I. Am. Going. To. Make. You. Scream... " she paused, and looked down.
"I'm pretty sure I got it right," Sister Felicity said, looking down at the devil's trap she was standing in. She waved the napkin that Sam had drawn on. "My little brother showed it to me."
The demon couldn't help herself – she began to laugh. "You idiot!" she roared, "A devil's trap is for catching demons! You're supposed to put the demon in the trap, not yourself! You stay on the outside, and catch the demon on the inside! You fucking moron!" She laughed heartily.
The expression on the nun's face went from hope, to despair. "Oh, dear," she said sadly. "Oh, well, it was worth a try." She raised her head to the face the demon. "I suppose you'll come and grab me and drag me away, now," she finished.
"I'm going to do more than that," smirked the demon, "I'm going to..."
She stopped herself just in time, with her foot hovering over the outline of the trap, drawn in marker, on the stained linoleum.
From the centre of the design, Felicity smiled.
"Did I do it right, then?" she asked brightly.
The demon glared at her.
"We've found you now," she purred dangerously. "We've found you, and you can't stay in that trap forever. I'll be back, with reinforcements. You can run, but you can't hide..."
Behind her, Sam burst through the door, demon blade at the ready.
It was a wicked strike, but the demon was quicker: she dodged deftly, and grabbed Sam by the scruff of his cassock.
"Whoa, not good," he managed, before she hurled him at the wall, where he slid down to the floor, wheezing for breath.
"And here I was, thinking the evening was a complete write-off," she sneered, kicking his knife away. "But at least I'll get to break your neck."
"O… okay," Sam gasped, pushing himself to his knees. "Just… keep… doing that."
"Oh, you like it rough, tough guy?" The demon laughed.
"No," he grinned up at her, and spat blood. "Just… Keep gloating. Because it gives… the dog… more time…"
Jimi burst through the door, eyes burning furnace-hot red, hellteeth bristling, jaws gaping, to seize hold of the demon and shake her like a rag doll.
"Already dead!" shouted Felicity when she saw Dean limp in after his dog with his knife drawn. He quickly sank it into the demon's side, and they all turned away from the burning light.
Jimi finally let go, and retracted his teeth, when the demon was destroyed.
"Well," announced Felicity, dusting off her habit and stepping out of the devil's trap, "I take back everything I said about my life being mundane." She retrieved Sam's knife, and walked over to where her brothers were collapsed on the floor, groaning. "Er, what are you doing?" she asked.
"Rescuing… you," panted Sam. "Ow."
"And writhing in… discomfort," added Dean. " 'S okay, we're good. We do this… all the time."
"My heroes," she chuckled. "You both need to work on your landings."
"Screw you," grumbled Dean, sitting up. "Oh, fuck, I hate demons."
Felicity checked them over for anything broken, pronounced them shaken but not stirred, then hauled them upright one at a time, and herded them back out to the car, where she rummaged through the trunk until she found the first aid kit.
"Sit," she commanded.
"Woof," griped Dean, "Do I get a treat now?"
"Only if you're a brave boy," she replied, breaking out the cotton and the peroxide. "That's a pretty impressive abrasion you got there. How I'm supposed to explain this, I don't know; if people think I've been beating up a blind priest, I'll be out on my ass before morning…"
"I'm fine," protested Dean automatically, "I gotta look at Sammy, he's…"
"I said, sit, little brother," she growled.
"Yeah, do what your older sibling tells you, Dean," grinned Sam, "You're always telling me that you know best because you're older than m-hey!"
"You too," she instructed, pushing Sam backwards until he sat on the hood next to his brother. "Dean's right, you got blood on your shirt. God knows what you've cut your arm on. Take your overshirt off, and tear off the sleeve underneath. And you," she turned back to Dean, and dabbed at his face, "Hold still."
"Ow!" went Dean.
"Oh, don't be such a baby," she told him. "You don't want a scar on this pretty face, do you? No lasting blemish on the irresistible visage of the Living Sex God? I said take your overshirt off, Sam. Littler brother."
"That's my job," Dean muttered sullenly, "Looking after my little brother is my job."
"That's all I'm doing," Felicity pointed out reasonably.
"She's a harpy," griped Sam, wiggling out of his top layer.
"She's a cow," agreed Dean, wincing at the sting of the disinfectant.
"I be dat asshole," Felicity smiled agreeably.
When her brothers had been tended to her satisfaction, Dean announced that they were heading straight to Bobby's, in a tone that brooked no argument.
"We're heading back to St Claire's first," Felicity qualified.
"Fic," Dean said in a firm tone, "We can come back and get your stuff later..."
"Screw my stuff," sniffed Felicity, "I happened to notice that Father Kennedy had some very good booze stashed in that garden, and right now, I need a frigging drink. Oh, yeah," she deftly extracted Baby's keys from Dean's pocket. "I'm driving. In case you start to show symptoms of concussion."
"Yep," Sam grinned wryly, "She's a Winchester."
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Sam had photos of the layout the demons had prepared, including a small side altar, and they'd gathered up its contents on the way out. Felicity recounted all the details of what the demons had said. Once they were on the road, Sam called Bobby, and started to relay what had happened as briefly as he could, sending pictures via his phone and the laptop, whilst Dean kept up a rumbling background vowel-free grumble about being evicted from his rightful place behind the wheel.
"Another Winchester, eh?" Bobby said finally. With the phone set on speaker, they could practically hear him scratching his head over the phone. "And another damned idjit, from the sound of it. That was a hell of a gamble you took, missy."
"I give her full points for quick thinking," Dean commented. "Whoever would have guessed that nun's pee acts like holy water?"
"I had nothing to lose," shrugged Felicity, "I was going to have my throat cut. And I thought, I'm sanctified - consecrated to God - so, maybe if the spring is blessed already, the water will come out pre-holified..."
"Heh heh, pre-holified," Bobby chuckled. "That's a damned good trick, though. I've never seen that mentioned in any of my books."
"The wards were blood magic, and they were planning to collect her blood, Bobby," Sam informed him, "All of it. They were planning something really nasty."
"Aren't they always?" tutted their practically father. "That's comin' through now, Sam. I'll have a look at it, and we'll see what we can make of it when you get here. Drive carefully. I look forward to meeting your big sister. Pre-holified, heh heh heh..."
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They made it to Singer Salvage in the wee small hours, having spent a lot of the trip with Sam and Dean relating stories of the things they'd gotten up to at Casa Singer, both as kids and then as adults.
"A nativity scene with Jesus being cradled by the Michelin Man?" she sounded incredulous. "You put it on his roof?"
"Glory be unto All Terrain Baby Jesus," pronounced Dean piously. "Yeah, the Virgin Mary figure was actually bolted down, so I had to improvise. It could have been worse; there was a music shop at the mall with a life sized cut-out of Gene Simmons."
"Mr Balls is either some sort of martyr, or some sort of sucker to have put up with you two," she mused, as the car pulled in through the front gates.
Bobby was waiting to meet them. "So," he said, when Felicity walked up to the door, "The oldest Winchester." He smiled. "You definitely look like Dean," he said, "And you're welcome to my house."
"Thank you, Mr Singer," she said.
"The last time a nun addressed me as 'Mr Singer', it was at school, and it let me know that I was in trouble," he chortled. "Just Bobby will do."
"So, what do you think Bobby?" Sam asked. "What were those damned demons planning to do?"
"I'll have to look up a couple more books," Bobby told them, "But right now, I'm so tired that my eyes are crossin'. So, I suggest that we all retire, and reconvene in the morning. You'll be safe here," he assured Felicity, "This place is warded tighter than a nun's nasty..."
There was a moment of silence as his brain caught up with what he'd just said.
"Um," Bobby stammered, "There's a room you can have. Upstairs. Next to them idjits. Uh."
"Thank you, Bobby," she smiled and rose, "Perhaps one of the idjits can show me where it is." She turned, and headed for the stairs. "Oh, and just so you know," she grinned a little evilly, "Tomorrow, I intend to ask you exactly how you know how tight a nun's nasty is. Goodnight."
C'mon, guys! Review it like you stole it!
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