When the Cradle Falls
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Water of the Womb
Things kept on spinning. Everyone had tried adjusting to the abrupt changes in their lives. Cara and Noah found themselves wondering more and more about their extended family, but found themselves more quiet than normal. The two would covertly discuss the possibilities about everything. Ever since their stay at Bobby's, everyone seemed different. Their mom had slipped back to her paranoid, and jumpy self, the way she had been after they had nearly drowned, years ago. Their dad came around less and less, at one point without Sam, who they learned had a fight with their Dad. Unbeknownst to the two, Sam had trekked across the country, trying to relocate their father, after catching wind he was trying to hunt down the yellow-eyed demon once again. During that time, he met a girl named Meg, who a while later, proved to be a demon when Sam and Dean encountered her again. It was then she used them as bait to lure their father out of the darkness. In a blur, John had saved his sons, only to leave without so much as a word.
For Alice and Dean, they tried to act like the hunt with the both of them had never happened, but both were poor at keeping up the charade. Alice knew what Dean did on a daily basis, and her anxiety and worry for him shot through the roof. On the other end, Dean felt guilty and beat himself up more and more for what kind of position he had put her in. Never had Dean wanted Alice to worry about him, but now she was on the verge of shakiness everyday of her life.
With a huff, Noah rolled onto his side and wrapped a pillow around his head. He hadn't been sleeping well the past couple nights, and it had left him irritable and aggressive-two things he normally wasn't. For someone who needed at least nine hours of sleep a night and loved sleeping, he couldn't understand why he stared at his ceiling for most of the night. And every time he was about to drift off, he would get a hot flash and wake up in a panic, like he had just been scared awake from a nightmare, but he didn't think he was dreaming-he couldn't remember dreaming.
"Why can't I just sleep?" The boy whispered to himself in frustration, after being thrown awake, in the same sweaty fit as he had been several times in the past fews hours.
Rolling back onto his other side and flipping over the pillow, Noah forced his eyes shut and tried to calm himself down, now worked up over the fact he was awake once again.
Little did he know, the crescendo was building and swelling, and would soon burst.
There wasn't much that rattled Dean anymore. He figured he'd seen it all, but apparently that wasn't the case.
The whole situation
Like vampires. Those were real.
And so was the Colt, a gun that could kill any supernatural creature.
Including the yellow-eyed demon, or hopefully that bitch Meg.
And even more surprising than that, John had eventually caved and allowed his sons to work with him in hunting down the yellow-eyed demon. They had run into him when they found the Colt, after he had saved them from While hunting the vampire nest until now, no one had mentioned what had happened a few weeks back. As far as the trio was concerned, it was like old times, before Sam went to school, and before Dean had told either of them about Alice and the kids. And even more than that, John acted like he had never saved his sons from Meg. It seemed that John was acting like the first time he saw his sons was before Bobby's, and everything happening after that was just a mirage.
"Dean, before we get started, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."
Turning around, Dean set down the bundle of clothes he was about to shove into his duffle bag. Sam had gone to the gas station to fill up the Impala, before the three would be driving west towards signs of demonic omens.
"What's up, Dad?"
Looking a bit sheepish, John indicated for Dean to sit down across from him. Reluctantly, Dean slid into the chair and found himself watching John's hands, which were carefully bundling the Colt in cloth, and then into a gun case.
"Listen, Dean, when we were at Bobby's…"
Realizing where the conversation was going, Dean felt himself sit up straighter. "We don't have to-"
"Yes we do," John insisted with a hard voice, still looking down at the table. Swallowing, he carefully latched the gun case and slid it to the side. "The way I acted at Bobby's was...unacceptable. I shouldn't have said those things to Alice. I should have acted better in front your kids." Looking up at Dean, John had a truly apologetic look in his eyes. "I wanted to apologize."
"Dad-"
John held up a hand. "You're not a teenager anymore. I'm not gonna yell at you for old mistakes.
"Dad-"
"That's your family, Dean. Our family. Got it?"
There was a strange sensation to hearing John acknowledge Alice and the kids as part of the family. And feeling that the conversation was over, Dean nodded and watched as John continued to move about the room, acting like nothing had ever happened, but something definitely had.
"Yeah, sir, I got it."
Flipping over a map that had been folded in his jacket, John smacked it into the table, indicating the markings he'd made. "Good. Take a look at this."
Leaning over John's shoulder, Dean looked at what was a doppler radar that had been printed out. His eyes moved to a cell cluster that had been circled by a dark marker.
It hung over the Midwest.
"I've been tracking the demon for months. And if I'm right, this storm means he's gonna be somewhere in this area."
The storm was huge. It encompassed all the way from Iowa to Ohio, and then from Minnesota all the way down to the Missouri.
"That's a lot of area to cover," Dean commented, staring at Illinois, specifically.
"Then we better get started."
As the Winchester trio was racing towards the trail the yellow-eyed demon left behind, in a small church several hundred miles away, the doors burst open as a young woman with closely cropped blonde hair and a red leather jacket stepped into the building.
The pastor, a salt and pepper haired man, glanced up, and smiled pleasantly. "Good morning. Can I help you?"
The woman looked around, glancing at the lofty ceilings and wooden altar. "I kinda need to talk."
The pastor nodded. "Well, that's what I'm here for."
Giving a small, grateful nod, the woman slid into the pew, the pastor following behind.
"I've...done some things. Not good things," the woman admitted.
Nodding, the pastor took a deep breath. "Well, there's always forgiveness for us if we seek it."
The blonde woman looked surprised. "For everyone? Even someone like me?"
He nodded. "I like to say salvation was made for sinners. Tell me what's on your mind."
Taking a deep breath, preparing herself to confess her sins, the woman began. "Well, I lied a lot. I've stolen; I've lusted. And the other day, I met this man. A really nice guy, you know? We had a really good chat. Sort of like this. Then I slit his throat and ripped his heart out of his chest."
The woman blinked up at the pastor, her eyes completely black.
"Oh. I realized I never gave my name. It's Meg, by the way."
Jumping up, the pastor backed his way out of the pew. "I know what you are. You can't be here. This is hallowed ground."
Meg scoffed, slowly standing up. "Please. Maybe that works in the minor leagues, but not with me." With delight, Meg watched the pastor run down the aisle, to a room on the side of the building. She paused for a moment as he disappeared, tilting her head to the side as she heard rustling in the room.
And to her, the man's next movements were in slow motion. From across the sanctuary, he threw a knife at her, that she easily caught between two fingers. "You know," she threw the knife down. "You throw like a girl."
Realizing his attempts were futile, the pastor began to back up, as Meg matched his every step.
"What do you want?"
Meg smirked. "The Winchesters."
Frowning, the pastor shook his head. "I haven't talked to John Winchester in over a year."
"Shh. Shh. I know. I just want you to know you'll be seeing all of them shortly."
Before the pastor could respond, Meg was in front of him, the knife in her hand leaving an angry, gushing gash across the pastor's throat.
Laughing as he fell to the floor, Meg stepped over his shaking body, twirling the bloody knife in one hand.
Usually, Cara was quite adept at avoiding conflicts. As someone who was typically very passive aggressive, but not right out aggressive, she rarely got in screaming matches. But for awhile now, Noah had really been ticking her off, going out of his way to be outright malicious to her. Normally, he had fun playfully irritating to her, but a few of his verbal assaults had reduced her to tears.
Because he had been acting so mean lately, it had put her on edge, which in turn at put their mother on edge, who was having to spend more time playing disciplinarian than she normally did.
Due most interactions with her mother and brother being unpleasant, Cara often found herself, holed up in her room, isolated from the world, trying to drown herself in whatever book was closest by.
Huffing, Cara slammed her book shut, not knowing what to do with all the pent-up conflict she felt within. And at the rate they were going, she didn't know how long they could all continue without exploding.
They had been driving for a few hours when John, who was leading the way, suddenly pulled over to the side of the road.
From the inside of the Impala, Sam and Dean glanced at one another before Dean shrugged and parked behind the truck.
The two climbed out of the truck and were greeted by the sound of their father swearing.
"What is it?" Dean asked, cautiously approaching an angry John.
"I just got a call from Caleb." Caleb had been a family friend for many years, someone Sam and Dean had stayed with sometimes, if Bobby wasn't available.
"Is he okay?"
"He's fine. Jim Murphy's dead."
The two younger men stilled.
"Pastor Jim? How?"
John shrugged helplessly. "His throat was slashed. He bled out. Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place."
Dean's mind turned as he put the pieces together. "A demon...the demon?"
"I don't know. Could be he got careless, slipped up. Maybe it knows we're getting close," John suggested.
But that didn't sit right with Sam. "You think the demon made a mistake? Dad, this bastard doesn't make mistakes." It had to be a trap. After their run in with Meg, he couldn't believe an old friend of the family would just happen to be killed by a demon, when the Winchesters were closing in on a particular yellow-eyed one.
John sighed, knowing Sam was more than likely right. Still, he was too focused on his own rage. "This ends now. I don't care what it takes. I'm ending it." With that, John abruptly climbed into his truck, slammed the door and gunned down the road, leaving Sam and Dean to follow the angry, vengeful trail of their father.
They followed to demonic omens to the town of Salvation, where the yellow-eyed demon was looking for a new family to terrorize, going after babies reaching the six month mark. Sam had a personal stake in it, as the demon came after him when he was that age, which consequently led to the death of his mother, and then Jess.
John had lost the love of his life, which had turned into a broken, bitter man. He knew how he ruined his kid's lives by forcing them to hunt from the time they were young. And maybe, this could be their entire way out of this shitty life. Admittedly, there was a small part of him that somehow thought he could be healed after the bastard was dead. But truly, he knew he'd been dead for a long time. Burned on a ceiling more than twenty years ago.
And Dean. The demon had terrorized his brother, killed his mother, and broken his father, but there was another aspect that enraged him. The idea that the demon went after defenseless babies made him want to skin old yellow eyes until even his bones would have scratches on them. For some reason, it was incredibly easy to imagine a sinister figure standing over a lacy bassinet, sheer curtains streaming moonlight into the dark nursery, where an infant Cara or Noah was sleeping.
For the sake of other young parents, and especially their children, the Winchesters needed to end it with their family.
The three Winchesters had separated to scour records in hospitals and clinics to find out which babies were turning six months old tonight. And just as they had all returned to the Impala, after finding nothing but dead ends, Sam collapsed to the ground, holding his head in pain, indicating another vision. Dean had grabbed his brother in familiar panic. Immediately afterward, Sam quickly brushed Dean off and indicated he knew what family was going to be targeted.
Sam wouldn't answer any of his brother's questions as he drove to a neighborhood with expertise, like he had been there before. After reaching a quiet, tree-lined cul-de-sac, that reminded Dean a bit of Alice's street, Sam parked the car and jumped out, approaching a young woman standing in front of a stroller. She was fumbling with a stubborn umbrella, trying to close it against the retreating clouds.
Recognizing the woman from his vision, Sam jogged across the street. "Hi. Here, let me help you. You look like you don't need that anymore.
"Oh, thank you."
As Sam handed the umbrella back to the woman, he leaned over and peered into the stroller, seeing a tiny baby tucked under a blanket. The one from his vision. He looked up at the woman. "She's gorgeous, is she yours?"
Fondly, the woman nodded while glancing down at the baby as well, pulling the blanket up a little higher.
"Oh wow," Sam said in a higher pitched voice, before straightening up and turning to the mother. "Oh, sorry. I'm rude. I'm Sam. Just moved up the street."
"I'm Monica. And this is Rosie," Monica cooed, leaning over the stroller once again.
At this point, Dean had caught up to his brother and had watched the interaction take place. When he walked up, Monica stared at him expectantly, with a small smile on her face.
"Oh, and this is Dean. My brother," Sam introduced.
Monica smiled and waved, welcoming the two of them to the neighborhood.
The two made small talk for several minutes, with Sam doing most of the chatting. Until Rosie's age came up.
"She's six months today. Growing like a weed, right?"
"Six months, huh?" Dean asked, becoming more a part of the conversation. "Enjoy it while their young. Because when they start talking and walking they become a real pain."
Sam glanced at Dean with a bit of sadness, knowing Dean was thinking about all the moments he missed with his children.
Monica glanced at Dean knowingly. "Do you have kids?"
Dean nodded, feeling a small smile grace his face. "Yeah. Two."
Monica smiled. "I hope Rosie gets another little brother or sister soon."
He smiled. "Mine are less than two years apart."
"Oh really? How old are they?" Monica asked, eyes lighting up in excitement. She honestly never got tired of talking about Rosie, or hearing about other people's kids.
"Cara's ten. Noah's nine." Dean felt himself smirk. "I was pretty young when they were born."
Monica shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Cause once they're here, they change your life forever."
Dean was about to respond, when Monica suddenly turned the stroller in a direction of a car pulling into a driveway that was nearby. "There's Daddy!" She pointed, as if Rosie was going to sit up and respond.
Seeing the woman lose focus, Sam spoke up. "Monica?"
"Yeah?" She turned to look at him.
"Just take care of yourself, alright?"
"You two! It was nice to meet you two. I guess I'll see you around."
And with that, the Winchester brothers watched as Monica turned the stroller around, approaching the man climbing out of the car, wide smiles on both their faces.
Sam was the first to turn back to the Impala.
Dean lingered for a fraction of a second, before jolting himself away from the scene.
Their father was already back at the motel, pissed that he hadn't found anything useful or worthwhile. Sam was in the process of explaining what was going on when in the middle of a sentence, he gasped in pain and collapsed to the floor, shaking like an epileptic.
Alarmed by the increasing frequency he was having visions, Dean stooped over Sam, calling his name, while John leaned over his son, in abject horror, not understanding what was going on.
Sweating, Sam came out of the fever dream panting loudly, but now completely sure the demon was going after Monica and her family. Rubbing his temples after watching a young woman burn on the ceiling above her baby, Sam was hunched over the table in the motel room, Dean standing anxiously nearby, while John sat across the table from him, simply staring,attempting to make sense of what was happening.
"A vision," John stated, no inflection or emotion in his voice.
Sam squeezed his shut even harder, really not wanting to have this conversation right now."Yes. I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling."
"And you think this is going to happen to this woman you met because…"
"Because these things happen exactly the way I see them," Sam explained, a bit desperately, seeing John continue to look skeptical. "I had two visions of her. The first one showed me her yelling for help while her house caught fire. In this one, I saw the demon.
"She told us today was her daughter's six month birthday."
John raised an eyebrow, not necessarily questioning the validity of the information, but more the modicum of how Sam came to the information.
Realizing this, Dean jumped in. "It started out as nightmares. Then it started happening while he was awake." While talking, Dean maneuvered into the small kitchenette, and grabbed a carafe filled with coffee and a mug, setting both down in front of Sam.
Beginning to pour himself some coffee, Sam elaborated. "Yeah. It's like the closer I get to anything to do with the demon, the stronger the visions get."
"When were you going to tell me about this?"
Pausing, Sam and Dean stopped what they were doing and stared at John.
"We didn't know what it meant-" Dean began.
"Alright, something like this starts happening, you pick up the phone and call me. Or you tell me when you see me. At Bobby's. Or after the Daeva's."
Twitching at the mention of Bobby's, Dean strode forward, towards his father. "Call you? Are you kidding me? I called you from Lawrence. Sam called you when I was dying. I mean, getting you on the phone? I got a better chance of winning the lottery. And at Bobby's…" he trailed off, remembering that John had apologized. But in Dean's mind, he still sometimes went over a scenario in which Cara and Noah had somehow came upon their grandfather in a fit of drunken rage.
Catching himself, John stopped. "You're right. Although I'm not too crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry."
A little too preoccupied to be touched by the exchange, Sam diverted the conversation back to what really mattered. "Looks guys, visions or no visions, fact is, we know the demon is coming tonight. And this family's gonna go through the same hell we went through."
"No they're not. No one is. Ever again," John insisted.
With that, Sam felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Frowning at the number he didn't recognize, still, he answered it. "Hello?"
"Sam?"
"Who's this?"
The voice gave a short giggle. "Think real hard and it'll come to you."
"Meg," he growled, malice laced in his voice. Composing himself a little bit, he continued. "Last time I saw you, you fell out of a window."
"Yeah, no thanks to you. That really hurt my feelings, by the way."
He scoffed. "Just your feelings? That was a seven story drop."
"I'm a demon, sweetheart. It takes a whole lot more than being pushed from an apartment building. Anyways...lemme speak to your Dad."
Sam glanced at his father. "My Dad. I don't know where my Dad is."
The demon seemed unimpressed. "It's time for the grownups to talk. Let me speak to him. Now."
Hesitantly, Sam passed the phone over to John, who put it on speaker, holding it equidistant between the three of them.
"This is John,"
"Howdy, John. I'm Meg. A friend of your boys. I'm also the one who watched Jim Murphy choke on his own blood...also, I'm the one his slit his throat. But that's besides the point. Anyways...that was yesterday. Today? I'm in Lincoln visiting another one of your old friends. He wants to say hi."
A voice came over Meg's line. "John whatever you do, don't give-"
"Caleb?" John yelled into the phone. "You listen to me, you evil bitch, he's got nothing to do with this-"
"We know you have the Colt, John," Meg said, cutting the bullshit.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Well. How about this? If you don't give it to me, I'll slit Caleb's throat. Just like Jimmy." Waiting for John to respond, he didn't. And with that, there was a slicing sound, a gasp, and then the sound of a man drowning in his own blood from the other end of the line.
The three Winchesters listened to the life gasp it's way out of Caleb's breath for several minutes, all of them feeling rage coiling their muscles. Dean and Sam wanted to shout at the bitch to stop, but John held his hand up, indicating them to be quiet.
After a few minutes, she pulled the phone away from Caleb, when she realized that tactic wouldn't work. "Hmm," Meg said, a bit surprised. "I thought that would do the trick. Perhaps some more collateral.
"Check out the picture I'm sending your way, boys. It's a sneak peek of who the next lucky victims are gonna be."
Intrigued, and also horrified, the three watched as Sam's phone lit up, and he got a new picture message. Clicking on the icon, the three squinted at the grainy picture.
It was view of a house, seeming to be taken from the street. The house was two story, gray brick, with orange and yellow flowers on either side of the door.
Immediately feeling his pupils dilate, Dean grabbed the phone from John, squeezing it so hard the edges began to crack. "I swear to Christ Meg, you even-"
She laughed. "I what? I'm in Lincoln like I said."
"Dean, what is it?" John demanded, recognizing the edge in his son's voice.
"This picture? That's Alice's house," Dean explained, desperately wanting to reach through the phone and
Stilling, John realized the implications of that. "You bitch. You wouldn't dare."
There was a scoff. "We know you have the gun, John. Word travels fast. And as far as we're concerned, you just declared war. And this is what war looks like. It has casualties...even women and children."
Dean bared his teeth again. "Meg, I'm going to-"
"Oh can it, Captain America," Meg grumbled at him.
"I'm gonna kill you, you know," John swore into the phone.
"Mind your blood pressure, old man. Anyways, I have a proposition for you, Johnny boy. You bring the Colt and yourself to Lincoln. Alone."
He was silent.
"Dad," Dean begged.
John glanced at his son, thinking.
"Time's 'a tickin', Winchester," Meg crooned.
"Dad," Dean begged again.
"So this is the thing," Meg cut in. "We're going to keep doing what we're doing. And your friends, anyone who has ever helped you, gave you shelter, anyone you ever loved. They're all gonna die. And what better place to start than two innocent kiddos with your blood running through their veins? With Mary's blood running through their veins?"
At this point, Dean was screaming incoherently into the phone, trying to attack it like the blonde haired, black eyed bitch was standing there, right in the middle of the room. In response, Sam held his brother back while John gripped the phone tightly.
"Okay."
"Sorry? I couldn't hear you over your son's pathetic screaming."
"I said okay. I'll bring you the Colt."
She giggled. "Great. There's a warehouse in Lincoln, on the corner of Wabash and Lake. You're gonna meet me there."
John did the math, but felt himself sag a bit in relief that she was actually in Lincoln, and not Batavia. "It's gonna take me about a day's drive to get there."
She was unflinching. "Meet me there. Midnight tonight."
"That's impossible. I can't get there in time and I can't just carry a gun on the plane."
She sighed wistfully. "I can guarantee I get get to Batavia faster than you can get here. And if not, I've already got some good friends on standby that can be to crappy Illinois at a moment's notice.
"Oh well. If you decide to make it, come alone. If not, your son is gonna know what's it's like to watch his children die. Toodles."
The line cut off abruptly.
As soon as the line went dead, there was a flurry of activity in the motel room. Both Dean and John began flying around the room, moving like blurs, while Sam was still trying to process the call.
"What do we do?" Sam eventually asked.
"I'm going to Lincoln," John said.
"What?" Sam asked.
"Am I'm going to Batavia," Dean said.
"What?" Sam asked, to Dean, this time.
"It doesn't look like we have a choice. If I don't go, people we love die," John said. Dean had turned away and was focused on gathering his things, scattered around the room.
"But the demon is coming tonight, for Monica and her family," Sam argued.
"Did you see that picture, Sam?" Dean shot back. "That's her house! There's demons coming for them, too!"
Deflating a bit, Sam glanced over at the Colt, tucked away in it's case. "The gun is all we've got. You can't just hand it over."
John stopped and glanced at his younger son. "Who said anything about handing it over? Look, besides us and a couple of of vampires, no one's really seen the gun, No one knows what it looks like."
Sam scoffed in disbelief. "So what, you're gonna pick up a ringer from a gun shop?"
"Antique store," John corrected, like that was any better.
"You're gonna hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn't notice?"
Exasperated, John continued to pack the rest of his things, while Dean steadily ignored the two, throwing all of his belongings into his own bag. "Look, as long as it's close, she shouldn't be able to tell the difference."
"Yeah, but for how long? What happens when she figures out?"
"I just...need to buy a few hours. That's all."
Picking up on the undertones of his voice, Sam guessed what his father meant. "You mean for us? You want me to stay here and kill the demon?"
John shook his head. "No, Sam. I want to stop losing people I love. I want you to go to school. I want Dean to have a home." Pausing, Dean's back was to them, but he didn't respond to what they were saying. "I want Mary alive. I just want this to be over."
Sam stood between John's trunk and Dean's Impala, watching the two of them slam their trunks in synchronicity. They approached him from other side, as Sam handed John a brown paper bag.
Taking the bag, John pulled out the antique gun from inside, and examined it, before replacing it in the paper.
For the first time, Dean allowed himself to clearly look at the situation, and what was happening. "You know this is a trap, don't you? That's why she wants you to come alone."
John brushed off the worry. "I can handle her. Dean, you be careful."
He nodded. "Yes sir."
Looking down at his watch, John sighed. "If I'm gonna get there by midnight, I have to haul ass. You two kick it's ass, you hear me?"
The brothers nodded and hugged their father goodbye and told him to be careful, both ultimately wondering when they would see him again, and the circumstances that would surround it.
When John's truck had pulled, Sam turned to his brother. "I'm guessing it's your turn to go now?" He asked, a tinge of bitterness in his voice.
Dean nodded. "You know I have to."
Sam shook his head, and looked down at the ground. "I don't know how I'm supposed to do this alone…" He admitted, fruitlessly.
"Hey," Dean said, getting Sam to look at him. "You can do this. I don't know anyone who can more than you. You'll have the Colt and your ivy league brain. And not to mention all the skills your kick ass older brother taught you."
Smirking mirthlessly, Sam nodded. "I just wish you and Dad could be there when I do it."
Dean clapped a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "You'll do it for all of us. For Jess. And Mom."
With a final nod, Sam grabbed Dean into a hug. "Tell Alice and the kids I said hi."
Pulling away, Dean smiled, jingling his keys. "And tell Ol' Yellow Eyes to kiss my ass."
Night had fallen. Sam was sitting in a borrowed car, across the street from Monica's house. Inside, it was lit up and he watched them have a family dinner, laughing and enjoying themselves, unaware of their fate in a few hours.
At this point, Dean and John would've both been driving for several hours by then, nonstop.
Seeing the Colt lying on the passenger seat beside him, it stilled Sam, reminding him why he was here. It was strange, to have the passenger seat beside him empty. He was used to being without his father, but ever since Dean had come to get him from school all those months ago, Sam couldn't've ever imagined this night, let alone facing the bastard by himself.
Shaking his head vigorously, Sam expelled the sentimental thoughts and kept his mind on what mattered: saving an innocent family and killing that demonic bastard.
Obsessively checking the gun to make sure the bullets were still in there, he laid it back on the seat, and went back to staring at the house, waiting.
Hundreds of miles away, a young blonde woman stood in the middle of a warehouse, turning when she heard a creak on the other side of the building.
Feeling her lips pull back into a cruel smile, Meg greeted the figure in front of her. "John, you made it. Too bad really, I was hoping to kill your grandkids."
"Sorry to disappoint," he offered, with no emotion.
Taking a step forward, Meg glanced up and down his body. "Mmm. I can see where your boys get their good looks. Though, considering what they say about you, I thought you'd be...I don't know, taller."
John remained silent. A bit impressed by his lack of emotion, but irritated he wasn't taking the bait, Meg dropped the teasing act. "Well aren't you the chatty one. You wanna talk business? Fine. So why don't you just hand over the gun."
John looked around. "If I give you the gun, how do I know I'll get out of here?"
"If you're as good as they say, I'm sure you'll figure something out."
"Maybe I'll just shoot you, instead."
That's right, keep things interesting, Meg thought, smirking once again. "You wanna shoot me, baby? Go ahead. There's more where I came from." Head craning towards the shadows, she indicated for another demon to emerge, letting John know he was outnumbered.
Alarmed, John managed to stand his ground. "Who the hell is that?" He glanced at the demon, a brooding guy that was built like a tank.
"He's not nearly as much fun as I am I can tell you that. So I suggest you give us the gun," Meg said, impatience beginning to seep into her voice. "Now!"
Reluctantly, John passes the gun to Meg, who holds it up close to her face, examining it. "This is the Colt?"
"Yes."
"Hmm." With a frown, she gives the gun to the male demon. "What do you think?"
Taking the gun from her, he quickly cocks it and shoots Meg in the chest, the blast sending her backwards, and into a stack of sad, forgotten cardboard boxes.
Staggering up and feeling the hole that was now in her shirt, Meg gripped her chest. "You fucking shot me! I can't believe you shot me you-"
"It's a fake," the demon said effectively cutting her off.
Forgetting her injury, Meg slowly turned to glare at John dangerously. "You're dead, John. Your sons are dead. And your grandkids are dead. I'm gonna start with them, and make you and your boys watch as I peel the soft skin back from their baby faces. And then I'm gonna kill your boys, still making you watch.
"And then you. Oh you and I are gonna have some real fun, Johnny."
Seeing Meg was no longer playing around, he slowly began to back up. "I've never used the gun. How could I know it wouldn't work?"
"I'm so not in the mood for this. I've just been shot."
"Well, then I guess you're lucky the gun wasn't real."
Meg gave a dangerous, half smirk. "That's funny, John. We're gonna peel the soft skin back from Cara and Noah's baby faces, but that was good."
The sound of the other demon throwing the gun into the darkness distracted Meg for a moment. Using the opportunity, John took off, running towards a room. Meg and the other demon were quickly behind him, shoving the door open, to see John trapped on the other side of the room.
"You trapped yourself like a rat, John," Meg taunted, stepping into the room.
Without responding, John turned a valve on his side of the room, and water from the floor and ceiling shot up into the room. Immediately, Meg and the other demon were drenched in holy water, their skin smoking like meat on a barbecue.
Using the opportunity to escape the room, Meg, writhing on the ground, called after him, "You're dead, John!"
"Tom!" Meg called to the other demon, who had recovered much more quickly than her, was now staggering to his feet. "Get him. Now," she commanded, dragging herself out of the blast zone.
Without a word, Tom took off after the eldest Winchester.
It didn't take long for Tom to find the hunter, who was hunched over the slashed tires of his car, swearing lowly.
And then, immediately, as if sensing someone behind him, John slowly let himself stand and turn around to see the large demon standing there, his skill still red and flaky.
Just as John is about to reach for a canister of salt in his pocket, the demon shot forward and threw the man against the wall, effectively rendering him unconscious.
Sam was contemplating calling Dean and his father when the radio on the car started suddenly changing frequencies, the dashboard flashing.
"It's coming," Sam whispered to himself.
Immediately, he had grabbed the Colt and was running towards the house. Not even thinking of being subtle, Sam kicked down the door, but was met by Monica's husband, swinging a baseball bat at his head.
Sam dodged the blow as the man told Sam to get out of his house.
From the top of the stairs, Monica's voice was heard. "Charlie, what's wrong?"
"Monica, get the baby!" Charlie grunted attempting to hit Sam again, and missing once again.
"No! Don't go in the nursery!" Sam yelled after Monica, dodging another hit. "I don't have time for this," Sam growled. Grabbing the bat from Charlie, Sam apologized, before hitting the man over the head, knocking him out.
Dropping the weapon, Sam ran up the stairs. "Monica! Monica, don't go in there!"
But it was too late.
When he reached the room, Monica was shoved up against the wall, screaming for Rosie, a dark figure slowly moving to stand over the crib.
Not even thinking, Sam aimed and fired the Colt at the demon, only to have it evaporate like smoke.
What?
Before Sam could even process what was happening, a fire erupted on the ceiling of the room, over the crib. Freed from the wall, Monica was running towards Rosie's bed, only to have Sam grab her and pull her back from the growing inferno.
"My baby! My baby!" Monica wailed, attempting to get out of Sam's grips.
"Wait, just wait!" Sam yelled, shoving her back against the doorframe. Running forward, he leaned over the crib and feeling the heat of the licking flames on his back, grabbed the crying baby, shoving her into Monica's arms.
"Go!" He yelled, shoving Monica in front of her as the fire began to spread across the room.
The two ran down the stairs, and Monica, seeing Charlie unconscious began to panic, leaning over his body, while Rosie cried and cried and cried in her arms.
Hearing the ceiling above them begin to pop, Sam followed the cracks in plaster to the top of the stairs, where a dark figure stood, absolutely still.
Teeth grinding, he began to advance towards the staircase, cocking the gun.
And just as he placed one foot on the first step, there was a loud explosion from upstairs, all the windows blowing out.
Monica's screams growing louder caused Sam to turn and look at her.
Seeing her, in a white nightgown, hair falling over her face, Rosie wrapped tightly in one arm, screaming, while Monica's other hand was placed on Charlie's face, trying to wake him up.
Glancing up at the dark figure one last time, Sam let out a growl of frustration. I'll be back for you, you bastard, he thought.
With that, Sam turned from the staircase and shoved Monica towards the front door. Grunting, he threw Charlie over his shoulder, and told her to run as more explosions could be heard from upstairs. And just as the group crossed the threshold to the lawn, there was one final explosion, the whole house going up in flames, the demon mockingly watching them from the window.
Sam had managed to sneak away before the firemen and paramedics showed up. He convinced Monica and Charlie not to say anything to them, Monica who was thanking him profusely for saving them, while her husband was confused as to what was going on.
Back at the motel room, he ended up trashing the whole place, out of pure anger. He had been so close. And the first time, he couldn't get itk, the demon was there, mocking him, as if it were daring him to try again. Sam was convinced that when he stepped on that staircase, that he wasn't gonna come back down, and he was okay with that. He would've gladly sacrificed himself to stop that bastard. That monster that had killed his mother and girlfriend.
But then...hearing Monica scream for help, and seeing her tiny family huddled together and defenseless, the realization that if he didn't help them, they were going to die, Sam jumped into action. Because if he had sacrificed himself but they still died in the fire, what would've been the point?
"FUCK!" Sam yelled loudly, in anger.
Suddenly, his phone started buzzed loudly on the nightstand. Picking it up, he saw it was his father. Feeling a bit of relief, he brought the phone do his ear. "Dad?"
"Try again."
The pressure of the room dropped as he recognized the voice.
"Meg."
"You really screwed up, Sammy."
"Where is he?" Immediately he knew something bad had happened to his father for her to have John's phone.
"You're never gonna see your father again. Tell your brother, too."
The line went dead.
Throwing his phone against the wall and watching it shatter, Sam slammed the motel door room behind him, feeling the vengeance in his heart burn brighter than the fire in that house.
The Next Morning
He was hunched over his desk, head laid against the cool surface. It was math class, first thing in the morning, but Noah was bored, waiting for everyone else to finish. His teacher had told him to wait quietly, and he was on the verge of passing out, hardly sleeping again last night.
The sound of the intercom beeping only slightly pulled him from his tired state.
"Miss Jeffries?"
The young teacher, a woman in her mid twenties, looked up from her desk. "Yes?"
"Could you please send Noah Mercer to the office? He's being signed out by his father."
Head snapping up halfway, he watched his teacher motion for him to go.
Feeling like he was in a haze, Noah pushed his chair in, placed everything in his desk, and grabbed his backpack from the hook in the closet.
Dad was signing him out? This had to be a dream. There were no instances in which he could ever imagine his father having to sign him out.
He was halfway down the hallway, sliding past the fifth grade classrooms, when Cara suddenly called his name, and grabbed onto his shoulder, bursting from her own room.
"Why is Dad calling us out? Something is wrong," Cara insisted.
Turning to her, Noah shrugged. "I don't know. But it is weird."
Doing little to reassure her, Cara practically dragged Noah down to the office, where they saw Dean Winchester waiting in the entrance of the school.
He seemed so out of place, in his usual leather jacket, jeans, and workboots. He seemed particularly fidgety and didn't notice right away when Cara and Noah had turned the corner.
But once they appeared and Dean saw them, he didn't hesitate to run forward and grab the two into hugs.
The two were taken off guard by the immediate display of affection but reciprocated the motion, both feeling more anxious and offput by the hug, than reassured.
"What's going on?" Cara asked, remaining on her high of worry and suspicion.
Pulling back, Dean didn't even try to arrange his face into something comforting. He was too relieved to see they were okay just then, but also worried the demons could descend any moment. Thinking of that, he glanced into the office at the secretary in a polka dot top and cat's eye glasses, wondering if she was a demon in vague paranoia.
"Dad?" Noah asked, trying to get a look at his father's face. However, Dean didn't acknowledge their questions. Instead, he knelt down in front of them and forced both of them to look him in the eyes. "Are you two okay?"
They nodded slowly. "What's happening?" Cara asked, beginning to worry.
Standing up quickly, Dean looked around, just to be sure. "I'll tell you in the car. We have to go. Now."
He didn't give either of them a chance to say anything, instead grabbing each of them by a hand, dragging them out of the school.
Arching her back in the worn down swivel chair, Alice tapped her foot on the shiny tile ground. Staring unblinkingly at the screen, she momentarily forgot that she was at work, charting patient progress.
There was so much on her mind, she found it hard to focus at work, lately. She had gotten several phone calls from Noah's teacher that he had regularly been falling asleep during class, and Alice was on the verge of taking him to the doctor, as he had never have trouble falling asleep ever. And according to the teacher, when he wasn't sleeping, he was belligerent and blatantly disrespectful. She didn't know what was going on with her son, but she was sure it had something to do with his shitty, unstable family life.
And then there was the whole matter of Dean. Every phone call she had with him seemed to be more fleeting and cryptic, like he was withholding information, or just downright lying. She knew he didn't want her to worry, but she couldn't decide if being kept in the dark or being informed gave her more peace of mind.
Either way, she would still worry. It seemed the more time that passed and he still hadn't come to visit made her wonder what he was doing. Was he burning another body, shooting another bullet from his shining gun?
A hand appeared at her shoulder.
Jumping, Alice felt herself spinning around, to see the unit secretary retracting her hand in surprise. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. There's a call for you. Line two."
Feeling her shoulders drop, Alice sighed. If it was the school again…
"Okay, thanks Miranda."
With a smile, Miranda nodded and walked back to her desk.
Turning back to the desk, Alice picked up the corded phone and proceeded with the call.
"Hello, this is Alice Mercer," she said, a bit distractedly, squinting at the screen, frowning at a typo she'd made.
"Allie."
Immediately knowing who it was, Alice leaned a bit closer to the phone, as if that would make hearing him easier.
"Dean? What's going on?"
"You need to listen to me carefully." His voice was urgent, rough, and harsh.
"What's happening?" Alice found herself asking in a small voice.
"The demon that came after Sammy as a baby is back."
"Oh my God." Nearly dropping the phone, Alice felt her joints begin to lock. "It's back?"
"Allie, I need you to go to Jan's house. Right now," Dean instructed.
A bit confused by the command, Alice sat back in the chair. "Why?"
"Because you're in danger. There are other demons working for that yellow eyed bastard and some of them threatened you."
"What…"
"They said they'd kill the kids, Allie. They threatened to do it in front of me."
Like receiving an adrenaline shot to the heart, the young mother had bolted up from her chair, sending it flying backwards, and scaring the shit out of everyone else at the nurses' station. "Oh my God oh my God oh my God. Where are they, Dean? I have to get them I had to make sure they're okay I-"
"I just picked them up from school. We're on our way to Jan's right now."
Hearing the kids were with Dean did wonders to make her more coherent. "You got them? Oh thank God."
"I got them. We're good for now. But Allie, you have to leave now. I have no idea where the demons are, but I know they're close."
Grabbing her purse, Alice felt a chill run up and down her body. "Okay. I'm leaving now."
"Good. You've got holy water and salt in your car, right?"
"Yes."
"Alright, come straight here. Okay? And please be careful," Dean begged.
"I will, Dean. Love you. I'll see you soon."
Slamming the phone down, Alice ran out of there like a bat out of hell.
On the way to Jan's Cara and Noah had hounded Dean so bad for an answer that he screamed at them to be quiet and not ask any more questions, after they wouldn't accept the answer that someone from work had threatened his family.
Normally, he felt bad at yelling at them, but right now, he was too in his own head to even think about that. It was only a small comfort that they were with him right then, because they were in peril danger, but he didn't know exactly what the enemy looked like. Yellow Eyes was in Salvation, and Meg was in Lincoln. Perhaps coming after Cara and Noah was just a bluff, but it drove Dean crazy that she would dare even mention them. And the fact she had a picture of their house…
Well, Dean wasn't taking any chances.
Like John, it had taken Dean years to figure out family was stronger together.
And now that he knew that, well, he never wanted to let the kids or Alice out of his sight again.
When they pulled up to Jan's house, she was leaning against the front porch. As usual, she had a cheerful greeting for the kids, who gave her half hearted responses. Not only were they yelled at by their father, but now they were being forced to stay with their weird aunt.
"Alright, well good to see you guys too," Jan chuckled, as they gave her sad hugs. "Why don't you two go upstairs while I talk to your Dad?"
"Sure," Cara responded quietly, leading the way into the house. Noah meekly shut the door behind them, leaving Dean and Jan alone.
She scoffed. "One day those kids will like me," Jan vowed, smirking at the door.
"It's not you, I yelled at them pretty bad in the car. I didn't know how to answer their questions."
She shrugged. "Sometimes parents don't have all the answers. It's one of the toughest jobs there is. And sometimes yelling is the best way to handle them."
Dean scoffed. "Sometimes I think hunting is easier. More black and white, you know?"
"It's not as black and white as you'd think." With a sigh, Jan reached into her back pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She put a cigarette between her lips and lit it, taking a deep breath.
"I didn't know you smoked."
Jan gave him the side eye. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Winchester." She glanced at him and then relinquished a bit of information. "I only smoke when I'm stressed."
"You must never be stressed then," Dean joked, trying to make something lighthearted.
"Nah. I'm just good at hiding it."
Effectively feeling worse than before, Dean nodded, but remained silent. Jan always seemed to cool and collected, and although she wasn't viscerally losing it like he was, it was obvious she was not as at ease as she usually was. And although the shift was subtle, it made Dean feel even more uncomfortable.
"I should go check on them," Dean said, about to get up.
Jan held a hand out to stop him. "As long as they stay in that house, they're safe. I reckon the Devil himself couldn't pass through that door. And from the looks of them, it doesn't seem like they're leaving their rooms anytime soon. Just take a breath. It looks like you could use one."
Nodding, but not agreeing, Dean leaned back against the railing, hoping to appease her.
Studying him carefully, Jan flicked some ashes of the cigarette over the side of the railing. "I don't think I've ever seen you this spooked before."
Dean thought about when Cara and Noah had almost drowned, and then the Screaming Angels case he had worked with Jan. "This demon makes the rest of that stuff look like child's play," he explained, referring to the previous stints.
"He's not gonna touch them," Jan assured. "Alice or the kids. The bastard would have to kill me and then burn my body because I'd come back as a vengeful spirit and kick his ass all over the ether if I have to."
"Thanks, Jan. It means a lot. Really, I appreciate you doing this. There aren't very many people I'd trust too-"
"Save the dying man's speech for your deathbed, Winchester." Straightening up, Jan tossed the cigarette aside. "Alice's here."
The sound of a the rusty gate moving was accompanied by the sight of Alice, in her light blue scrubs, running up the sidewalk. Not even saying a word to him, Alice threw herself in Dean's arms, and clung to him tightly, shaking like she didn't know what.
Feeling himself begin to relax for the first time, Dean wrapped his arms tightly around Alice, one cradling the back of her head. Breathing in her scent, he let it fill him with peace and clarity. She had an amazing ability to focus and ground him, even when his world was tailspinning out of control. She was his home, and it gave him purpose and a reason to keep going, no matter how shitty and dark things got. And right then, they were as black as the night.
It wasn't even an hour later, with Jan, Alice, and Dean all on the first floor of the house, triple checking the demon wards. Although Jan was confident everything was secure, Dean's paranoia had caused them to scan everything several times.
While bent in front of the from door, Dean was checking the salt lines, when a loud pounding on the other side suddenly scared him into a standing position. Immediately reaching for his gun, Jan and Alice were beside him in a second, both with their own weapons pointed at the door, Alice a little more unsure.
The pounding didn't stop, and eventually Jan pulled the door open, weapon in the person's face.
"Sam?" Dean demanded.
Not even reacting to the weapon in his face, Sam, panicked shoved his way into the house. "Dean, we have to go."
"What?" The older brother asked
"They have Dad."
Yay, we're finally at the finale! Stay buckled in, it's gonna be a wild ride!
Hope you enjoyed!
V.