Demon Seals

Chapter Eight: Witness

Confession: I love writing Sam. I'm a total Sam-girl! I could write stories from his perspective all day and probably never break a sweat. Castiel has proven to be more difficult than I first imagined it would, but I'm enjoying from his perspective for a change. Dean is probably the hardest for me to write. Don't get me wrong, I love Dean, he's an amazing, flawed, good person, but his rhythm and humor don't come as naturally to me as Sam's does. I'm more sarcasm and sass than quippy comebacks, but I do try.

Anyway, I'm (not) sorry to break up Dean's story the way that I did. We will now finish my retelling of 4.02. Some of the action and dialogue come from the episode once again. I hope you enjoy it!

When the Impala pulled up to Bobby's home, Dean's attention was immediately drawn to Jo hauling Bobby away from stacks of junkers, an iron poker clenched in one hand. "Get inside!" she bellowed as soon as she spotted Dean.

Dean did not need telling twice. He grabbed his shotgun and charged up the stairs to the front door, slamming in to find Ellen sailing across the room, a tall, dark man striding after her and yelling, "Why didn't you keep that wolf from killing me? You had the shot, you could've taken it and kept me alive!"

Instantly, Dean had raised his shotgun and blasted the ghost from existence. "Ellen?"

"I'm okay," Ellen gasped out as she took the hand Dean offered to her. Jo and Bobby stumbled into the house, and Bobby directed them down to the basement as he threw a stack of books into everyone's hands.

Dean had been down in the basement many times throughout his life, but he was startled to see a heavy, iron door set into one wall with a Devil's trap on the floor before it. Bobby pulled the door open and ushered the group inside.

"Whoa."

There was no other way for Dean to describe how he felt about the new room he found himself in. It was a perfect circle, the walls and ceiling made of iron. The floor was concrete, but had a perfect Devil's trap inscribed on the floor. The ceiling had a large fan encased in an iron cage with another Devil's trap made of metal welded to it. The only furniture in the room was a small cot that folded up against one of the walls, an army bed, two desks with their own chairs, a mirror also set into a wall, and a short bookshelf. "Bobby," Dean breathed, "this is…"

"Solid iron," Bobby confirmed. "Completely coated in salt. 100% ghost-proof."

"A panic room," Jo said with a satisfied smirk.

"Wow," Dean said, impressed. "When did this happen?"

"We had a free weekend a few months back," Ellen answered, setting her stack of books on the nearest desk and relieving Dean of his own pile.

"You guys are awesome," Dean chuckled as Jo added her stack of books to the desk. "Anyway, what now?"

"I noticed this weird mark on Teresa's hand when she attacked me," Jo answered. "I know I didn't see it when we were both being held by that ghost, so I sketched it on the way back and showed it to Bobby as we were running inside."

"I know I've seen it before," Bobby took over, setting down a large duffel bag on the floor, "s'why I loaded you guys up with all these books 'fore we came down here."

Bobby and Ellen set about looking through the books they had carried in, and Dean sat down with Jo to make salt rounds for their sawed-offs, the supplies coming from the duffel bag.

"So this Castiel is really an angel?" Jo asked after a few minutes.

"It sure seems that way," Dean sighed. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around it."

Jo tilted her head to the side. "Y'know, I caught Sam praying once."

Dean frowned and looked over at Jo. "Really? When was this?"

"It was back when Sam was still recovering from the uh… the farmhouse. In Utah."

Oh. That.

"I've watched out for him my whole life," Dean says, staring at the closed laptop that sits innocently inside the trailer of the now-dead Hunter Weyland Kubrick. "It was my one job, even after he walked away from me to go to school. And since he's been back, he's been kidnapped by crazy people and demons, this girl we both trusted stabbed him in the back…" He drops his head into his hands. "And now I'm supposed to let him do the one thing that's damaged him more than anything else."

There is a long moment of silence.

"You feel like you're using him as a weapon," FBI Agent Henricksen states.

The day that Sam drained a demon of its blood and saved a barn full of folks he barely knew, almost dying in the process and facing months of recovery for his efforts.

"Sam seemed pretty embarrassed to be caught out," Jo continued, bringing Dean back to the present. "He said he had believed in angels for years, that he prayed every day."

How had Dean never known this?

"Our mom," Dean said haltingly, "she uh, she used to say that there were angels watching over us, but after she died, Dad sure didn't believe it, and I know I didn't." He swallowed hard and looked away.

"Sam said that it was Pastor Jim who helped him find his faith," Jo told Dean quietly. They both studiously ignored the slowed movements from the others as they listened in.

"Do you believe in angels?" Sam abruptly asks Dean as they walk through the convent Azazel visited over 30 years ago.

At the time, the answer had been no, he didn't.

"Surely you know that Sam still prays every day," Azazel says in a mocking voice as he stands by a sleeping Sam, recently freed from possession by the demon Meg.

He had just written off what that damn yellow-eyed demon had said, too focused on having his brother alive and by his side. "Sam said he wanted to tell you, but he knew you didn't believe in God or angels, so he always thought it was just best to leave it alone," Jo spoke softly, an expression of sadness on her face. Dean nodded and met her expression head-on.

"I never meant to make him feel he couldn't share that part of himself," he admitted. "It's just… it's so hard for me to get behind the idea that angels — hell, that God exists. If he doesn't exist, fine. Bad crap happens to good people. That's how it is. There's no rhyme or reason — just random, horrible, evil — I get it, okay. I can roll with that." He leaned forward, still holding Jo's sad gaze. "But if he is out there, what's wrong with him? Where the hell is he while all these decent people are getting torn to shreds? How does he live with himself? You know, why doesn't he help?"

Jo sighed and shrugged. "I don't know," she answered. "I'm sure religious people have some kind of bullshit they say to make you feel better, but I wasn't ever the religious type, especially after my dad died."

Dean noticed that Ellen blinked back tears and let her hair fall in her face to hide her expression at her daughter's admission.

"Found it," Bobby announced. "That symbol, it's called the Mark of the Witness."

"Witness?" Jo echoed in confusion. "Witness to what?"

"The unnatural," Bobby replied. "None of them died what you'd call ordinary deaths. See, these ghosts — they were forced to rise. They woke up in agony. They were like rabid dogs." He sighed and leaned back in his seat. "It ain't their fault. Someone rose them... on purpose."

"Question is, who did it," Ellen said.

"Also, why'd they do it, and how do we stop it," Dean added.

"Well, I don't know about the who," Bobby sighed, "but whoever it was used a spell so powerful it left a mark, a brand on their souls. Whoever did this had big plans. It's called 'the rising of the witnesses'." He looked down at his book again and pulled off his ballcap to scrub at his head nervously. "It figures into an ancient prophecy."

There was something Bobby wasn't saying. It couldn't be good.

"Wait," Dean said, "wait. What — what book is that prophecy from?"

"Well, the widely distributed version's just for tourists, you know. But long story short — Revelations."

"Like, from the Bible?" Jo said with wide eyes.

"Yep," Bobby said. "This is a sign of the Apocalypse."

Dean let that sink in for a minute. "Castiel really is an angel," he whispered, the last of his doubts fading away. "There's no other reason a being like him would be here except for the threat of the end of the world."

The others didn't say anything, but they nodded their agreement.

"So uh, do we have a way to stop this?" Dean finally asked.

"I got a spell to send the witnesses back to rest," Bobby said, "and I'm sure we got all the ingredients here in the house, but the spell's gotta be cast over and open fire."

"Crap," Jo said. "You mean the fireplace in the library."

"Bingo," Bobby said with a nod.

"That's just not as appealing as a uh, ghost-proof panic room, y'know?" Dean told the group. Jo snorted and turned back to their work making rounds for the guns.

Half an hour later, the four Hunters were ready to leave the panic room.

Well, okay, not really, but Dean knew they had no other choice. Who knew how many other Hunters were dying out there? What if Sam was one of them?

He's okay, Dean insisted to himself. Sam's fine. We're gonna stop this crap, and then I'm gonna find him.

"Cover each other," Bobby was saying as he prepared to unlock the door. "And don't run outta ammo until I'm done, or they'll shred you." He grimaced. "Ready?"

Dean nodded tightly, and Bobby opened the door.

The group headed across the basement to the stairs, but they all stopped up short upon seeing another ghost, a man in his twenties with curly hair. "Hey Dean," the ghost said. "Remember me?"

Boy, did Dean ever. It was Ronald, the guy who had fucked up his and Sam's Hunt for a shapeshifter in a bank in Milwaukee with his fear of terminators and laser eyes. Jo didn't give Dean a chance to reply, instead aiming her shotgun and blasting the ghost with salt rock. "It's not a good idea to let them talk," she said tersely, and Dean abruptly couldn't help but notice the bruises on her face from when she had been attacked by Teresa.

The four Hunters charged up the stairs and into the library. Jo quickly made a circle of salt for Bobby to stand in as Ellen and Dean kept their eyes open for more ghosts. "Dean," Bobby said curtly, "upstairs, linen closet — red hex box. It'll be heavy."

"I'm on it," Dean said, taking off up the stairs. He found the closet and tore it apart until he found what he was looking for.

"You know what pisses me off?" He whipped around to see Meg once again. "I was trapped inside my body for months, and you didn't even stop to think that you were looking at anything more than an enemy, Dean! I was awake —!"

Dean aimed and fired his gun. Meg vanished and Dean grabbed the hex box, charging back down the stairs to give it to Bobby. Ellen and Jo burst through the kitchen doors, Ellen breathing harshly and clutching at her chest. "You really need to let me reorganize your damn supplies, hun," she told Bobby as they all unloaded their things within the salt circle.

"Not the time, dear," Bobby said as Ronald and a blonde, presumably Teresa, appeared. Dean and Jo blasted them away just as two little girls appeared. From the way Bobby tensed up, Dean knew they must've been the ones he had failed to save, but thankfully, he remained focused on his job and allowed the others to do theirs. Ellen and Jo shot at the girls as Bobby began to chant.

The windows blew open.

The salt line was demolished by the gust of wind that came through.

"Crap," Dean muttered as the man who had tossed Ellen like a rag doll appeared next to Meg. He, Jo, and Ellen all continued to shoot, but they were running low on ammo too quickly to keep up. The nameless man knocked Dean's gun out of his hands as he was reloading, but thankfully Jo was able to blow him away. Then Teresa appeared and knocked Jo into the wall, sending the desk scraping across the floor until it had her trapped.

"Jo!" Ellen shouted worriedly.

"Protect Bobby!" Jo snapped back as Dean grabbed another gun, only to find it empty. There was an iron poker on the floor, so Dean grabbed it and turned around the slash it through Ronald, Bobby chanting behind him as Ellen shot at the unnamed man. The two little girls appeared on the desk, staring at Bobby just as Meg appeared behind Bobby and shoved her hand into his back.

Bobby cried out, dropping the bowl filled with the various ingredients.

"No!" Dean yelled, springing forward to just barely catch the bowl.

"Dean," Bobby gasped out, "fireplace!"

Dean didn't need to be told twice. He ducked around Meg and threw the bowl right into the flames, which turned blue a split second later. The ghosts all cried out as the brand on their hands burned away, and then they were gone.

The silence was deafening.

Jo began to push at the desk, her mother quickly moving forward to help her as Dean helped Bobby to stand up. "You okay?" he asked.

Bobby nodded, still breathing hard.

It was over.