Happy New Year everyone! Sorry that this is waaaay overdue, but here is the final chapter of Deadly Ties! Enjoy :)
17. All Hell Breaks Loose
"They gotta find an easier way to do this. I'm gonna do my back in by the time I'm thirty."
Seriously, digging up dead guys was such a damn chore. I mean some people had partners or brothers to do it with; that's half the work right there. Yet little old me had do all this digging by herself. I was all for girl power and 'I'm a strong independent woman who don't need no man', but right now, what would it hurt to have a little extra muscle? I figured I'd hammered the nail in my own coffin on that one—not playing well with others and all. And speaking of coffins, how much further down was I going to have to go? I felt like I was digging to China.
"I don't see why coffins have to be six feet down. Seems a little much," I said as I continued to dig, wiping beads of sweat off my forehead every now and again.
At least I had someone to talk to: the dead. Not the undead; the good dead that stayed exactly where they were, not bothering anyone, and not talking back. They were the perfect company really.
My shovel finally made contact with the coffin, and I shifted the last few remaining bits of dirt. I grasped the edge of the rotten, wooden lid and swung it open. Richard McNair wasn't looking too good. Though being dead for a hundred years probably had something to do with it. Oh well. He'd be looking much worse once I got done with the salt and burn. Goodbye Mr Ghostie. I hopped back out of the grave and doused the remains in salt and lighter fluid. Just as I bent down to search through my bag for my lighter, the air around me changed. My breath rose in front of me like fog. It had definitely gotten chillier. I looked around only to find Mr McNair standing 10 feet in front of me, looking as he had done before his death.
"Crap. How the hell did you—"
He raced forward and flung me around. I flew through the air and landed against a tree. I hoped the crack I'd heard was the bark of the tree and not my back—though the pain racing up my spine said otherwise. It was seriously unfair that ghosts got to put their hands on you like that. Talk about an unfair advantage.
I scrambled for my things, crawling on all fours, and just as I reached out to search once more for the lighter, my cell rang. And for reasons beyond me, instead of torching the bones that would vastly improve my current situation, I answered my cell.
"Hello?"
"Rae, it's me—"
"Hey, Dean," I said, huffing and puffing. "Give me a sec, I'm in the middle of somethi—"
The word ended on a yelp as McNair's ghost gripped me around the ankles and sent me on another flight. At least this time I landed on the ground. And as I landed, something dug into my hip. Instantly, I knew what it was. My lighter hadn't been in my bag…
"Goddamn it, Rae!" It wasn't the first time I had to scold myself, and I was sure it wouldn't be the last. I wedged my hand into my jeans pocket and withdrew the lighter. I launched for the grave, but McNair wasn't willing to make it easy on me. Go figure. After a few more blows I had no option but to take, I managed to flick the flame on and threw the lighter into the grave. At once, McNair's spirit burst into flames, and all was quiet.
I walked back to where I had dropped my phone and could hear Dean yelling at me before I'd even picked it up.
"Rae? Rae!"
"Howdy!" I sounded chipper, like everything had gone according to plan.
"Are you alright?" he asked. I was a little taken aback that he actually sounded rather concerned.
"Oh, I'm fabulous. Now, what can I do for you? I hope this isn't some booty call. I'm way too classy for that—"
"Will you shut up for a second?" he growled.
"Don't even think about talking to me like—"
"Sam's gone."
Did he just say what I think he did? There was no way. No way there was another case of a missing Winchester. It was like a bad sitcom that just wouldn't end. "Are you freakin' kidding me?!"
"Rae…" His breath seemed to catch in his throat. "This is different."
He was worried. And he didn't worry easily. "What happened?" I asked, without a hint of reproach.
"We went to a diner. Well, I stayed in the car, and he went in. Everything was fine." He was talking a mile a minute, but I managed to catch what he was saying. "Then my radio started glitching. I looked back up and he… he was gone."
It sounded as if Sam had actually vanished, as in poofed into thin air. "Did anybody see anything?"
"They were all dead… and I found sulfur."
Demons. That meant demons. My mind instantly flooded back to when Sam had last been lost. Had the same thing happened twice? But how had he just disappeared? And where was he now?
"Shit." It was all I could say at that point. I figured it summed up the situation pretty well.
Dean let out a long and weary sigh. "I need your help."
"Yeah, of course." There was no other answer to give. No other answer I'd want to give. "Where are you?"
I drove through the night, heading to the location with the coordinates Dean had sent me. My head was spinning with thoughts of what could have happened to Sam. Something had taken him. Whether that meant they physically removed him, or they physically took him over, who knew. Could he be possessed again? Hadn't he been wearing the talisman Bobby had made for us? I knew I hadn't taken mine off since, and I couldn't see Sam doing that either. We just had to hope we could find him, and soon.
Rain started to fall as I pulled up behind Dean's Impala. He and Bobby were hunched over, looking at something on the hood of the car. I jogged over to the pair, seeing the map they were pouring over. Bobby looked up as I approached. I hadn't really made up my mind if I liked Bobby or not. He hadn't really given off any warm, welcoming vibes the first time we met. Not that I had either. But the way he had looked at me then, mirroring exactly how he looked at me now, made me think he was a little wary of me. Well, right back atcha buddy.
"What have we got?" I asked as I stood beside Dean, who looked more frazzled than I'd ever seen him look.
"A whole load of nothing," he muttered.
"Here." Bobby tapped the map. "All demonic signs and omens over the past month."
I didn't get it. The map was blank. "There's nothing here."
"Exactly."
How could there be none? When did anything ever stay that quiet in this life?
"Come on, there's gotta be something," Dean said. "What about the... the normal, low-level stuff? You know, exorcisms, that kind of thing."
"That's what I'm telling you: there's nothing. It's completely quiet."
"Isn't that a little… odd?" I asked, fearing that whatever reason for this lull in activity couldn't be good.
Bobby sighed. "You could say that."
"Well, how are we supposed to look for Sam?" Dean said, his voice raising. "What, do we just close our eyes and point?" His cell rang and he whipped it out of his pocket. "Ash, what do you got?"
Ash. Doctor Badass. I hadn't actually met him yet, but I knew he was good for information.
"Oh, come on, man! You've gotta give us something." Dean growled. Guess I spoke too soon. "We're looking at a three thousand-mile haystack here." He paused, his brow furrowing at whatever Ash was telling him. "Well, what? Come on, I don't have time for this!"
He snapped his cell closed. "I guess we're going to the Roadhouse. Come on." Dean headed straight for the driver's seat.
"Wait. What did he say?" I asked.
"He has no idea where Sam is, but he's got something that might help us. Something big." With that he got in the car and Bobby jumped into the passenger seat.
I wasn't about to leave my truck in the middle of nowhere, so I headed back to it and followed Dean to the Roadhouse, wondering where the hell the next twenty-four hours would take us.
Nowhere good. That's where the next twenty-four hours would take us if what we saw next was anything to go by. The rain had finally stopped, and blue skies were overhead. Yet as we approached the Roadhouse, or what was left of it, things took a darker turn. The bar had been torched. There was barely anything left standing among the ruins.
We all got out our vehicles and stood, numb. Smoke still rose in numerous places. This had only just happened. And there was no way this was an accident, not after Ash's phone call.
We spread out, searching for signs of… anything. Everything seemed to crumble under my feet as I walked through the smouldering remnants of the bar. The smell of burnt wood wasn't enough to cover up the horrendous stench of burnt… I couldn't even finish the thought. The fire must have spread quickly. People couldn't get out in time.
"You see Ellen?" Dean asked.
"No," Bobby answered. "No Ash, either."
Suddenly Dean leant down over a hand sticking up from beneath a pile of rubble and touched the watch on its wrist.
"Oh, Ash, damn it!"
Oh hell. I didn't know the guy, but to die like that... I wouldn't wish it on anyone.
We searched for a little while longer but there wasn't much else to find. We just had to cling onto the hope that Ellen somehow made it out. We didn't find her body, but that didn't mean much; she might have been buried where we couldn't see.
We made our way back to the cars.
"What the hell did Ash know?" Dean asked. "We've got no way of knowing where Ellen is or if she's even alive. We've got no clue what Ash was gonna tell us. Now, how the hell are we gonna find Sam?"
"We'll find him, Dean. Whatever it takes." Although, right then, my words felt like an empty promise. Whoever, or whatever, had burnt this place down had to have done it because of what Ash was gonna tell us. It had to be linked. It would be too much of a coincidence otherwise, right? And that meant it had something to do with what happened to Sam. Things weren't looking good.
With a grimace, Dean put his hand to his head.
"You all right?" I wandered over to him where he stood by his car.
Dean lifted his hand from his head but before he could open his mouth to respond, he grunted in pain and clutched his head again. After a few seconds, the pain seemed to pass.
"What was that?" Bobby asked.
Dean shook his head as if he was trying to shake off whatever that had been. "I don't know. A headache?"
That had to have been one hell of a sudden headache.
"You get headaches like that a lot?" Bobby asked.
"No. Must be the stress." He tried to laugh it off, but his effort was humourless. "I could have sworn I saw something."
Bobby squinted. "What do you mean? Like a vision? Like what Sam gets?"
"What? No!"
Bobby shrugged at Dean's offended tone. "I'm just saying."
"Come on," Dean huffed. "I'm not some psychic."
"What do you think you saw?" I asked.
"I—I don't know. It was quick. Everything was—"
Then Dean crumbled. His legs gave out under him as he cried out and once again clutched his head.
"Dean!"
Both Bobby and I were at his side, trying to hold him up.
"Dean? Are you with us?" Bobby asked as he clutched Dean's shoulder.
"Yeah, I think so." Dean straightened up, looking as if he'd just woken from a nightmare. "I saw Sam. I saw him."
"So it was a vision," Bobby said.
"Yeah. I don't know how, but yeah. Whew. That was about as fun as getting kicked in the jewels."
"What else did you see?" I asked.
"Uh… there was a bell."
"What kind of bell?" Bobby asked.
"Like a big bell with some kind of engraving on it, I don't know."
Helpful, Dean. Real helpful. It didn't make any sense. Why would Dean be getting flashes of bell? And how? Yeah, that's what I'd really like to know. I doubted Dean all of a sudden became psychic.
"Engraving?" Bobby asked.
"Yeah."
"Was it a tree? Like, an oak tree?"
Ok, talk about a random question Bobby. Why would—
Dean nodded. "Yeah, exactly."
"I know where Sam is."
I shook my head, not sure if I'd heard Bobby right. "What? How did you get that from a bell?"
"It's a place called Cold Oak—"
"Hence the oak on the bell," I said, only meaning to be a slight know-it-all pain-in-the-ass.
"It's said to be one of, if not the most haunted towns in America. It was so haunted, that all of the residents fled. It's a literal ghost town."
It still didn't make any sense. Hell, none of this did. But what else was new where the Winchesters were concerned?
"Why would Sam be there?" I asked.
"Doesn't matter." Dean opened the car door. "Right now, it's the only lead we've got."
Night had fallen by the time we got to Cold Oak. As I drove, a lead weight had settled in the pit of my stomach. Not just for Sam, but for all of us. It was the kind of weight that told you it was fight or flight time. Whatever this 'something big' was that Ash was planning on telling us, it should have given me a good insight into what choice to make. Yet the option of walking away, of leaving the guys to find Sam, never entered the picture. And I'd never really been one for flying anyway.
Just up ahead, Dean had stopped in the middle of the road—a fallen tree had blocked the rest of the way. I got out of my truck just as the doors to the Impala opened.
"Well, it looks like the rest of the way's on foot," Bobby said.
We grabbed knives, guns, and flashlights out of our vehicles, not knowing what else to take, not knowing what to expect.
"We got a game plan here?" I asked.
"Yeah." Dean slammed the trunk of the Impala shut. "Kill anything that stands between me and my brother."
Fair enough. With nothing else to go on, we made our way into the town.
If you were to look up 'ghost town' in a dictionary, there would be a picture of this place sitting right next to it. The town looked small, contained; its buildings halfway to falling to decay. There was a certain chill to the atmosphere, as if it were in its own bubble. And of course, it just had to start raining too.
As we moved through the squelching mud, guns drawn at the ready, Dean started to call out for his brother.
"Sam!"
"Do you really think that's wise?" I hissed.
He either didn't hear me or didn't care. Probably the latter. He continued to shout until we rounded the corner.
There he was. Sam was staggering, holding his arm, but otherwise, he looked ok.
"Dean!" A relieved smile crossed Sam's face.
Just behind him, a man got up from the ground. I didn't recognise him. And I couldn't quite make out what he was doing—there was barely any light around. He leant down and grabbed something, then came up behind Sam. And it became all too clear what his intentions were.
"Sam, look out!" Dean screamed as we all ran for him.
But we were too late. The guy stabbed Sam in the back, then ran as Sam fell to his knees.
"Noooo!"
When we reached Sam, part of me wanted to stay with Dean to help. But I knew he had his brother, and I knew we couldn't let the guy get away. So Bobby and I chased after him. He was fast. I managed to close the distance; Bobby lagged behind. My feet kept trying to slip out from under me on the wet ground, but I pushed on. I had to get this guy. He would not get away with hurting Sam. I chased him into the surrounding woodlands: branches scratched at my face and roots tried to tangle between my feet. I came to a clearing and stopped dead. He was nowhere in sight. I had no idea which way he'd run.
"Where did you go you sonofabitch?"
A few seconds later, Bobby caught up to me, out of breath but with the same fire in his eyes that I was sure was sparking in mine.
"Where is he?" he asked.
"He's gone." I hated saying it. Hated I'd been the one to lose him.
"We'll find him." I don't know whether Bobby was trying to console me or simply stating a fact, but there was nothing else for us to do.
We headed back to Dean, hoping Sam wouldn't need too much patching up. But when we got back into the centre of the town, my heart stopped.
"Sam!" Dean's cry was guttural. He was kneeling on the floor, clutching Sam in his arms.
He was… he couldn't be... I ran over to them and staggered to a stop, my legs not willing to take me any further forward.
"No, no, no, no. Oh, God. Oh, God." Dean cried as he held his brother to him.
He couldn't be dead. It was Sam.
The pain in my chest was white-hot. It hurt to breathe. My vision blurred as the tears fell silently. It didn't make any sense; this couldn't be how it ended. It was Sam. He couldn't be gone. It wasn't fair.
I couldn't sort through the swirling thoughts and emotions crashing over me.
I don't know how long we stood there, how many tears fell as I had to watch Dean break in front of me. Time had stopped.
Eventually, Bobby moved towards Dean and reached out a hand to lay on his shoulder. "Dean, we should—"
"Don't." The word sounded more animal than human.
I knelt down beside Dean and spoke as gently as I could. "We should get him inside, out of the cold."
Dean didn't respond. There was no outward sign he heard me until he eventually nodded and moved to carry his brother away.
The tears had dried up. I sat on the stairs, staring at nothing. The same thoughts swirled in my head. This couldn't be real. What do we do next?
Sam was gone. Pure, kind, heartfelt Sam was gone. And the world seemed a little darker for it.
Dean was in the next room, peering through the doorway where we had laid Sam's body. He hadn't spoken in the hours we had sat there. What was there really to say?
Bobby came through the front door, a fried chicken bucket in his hand. "I brought food back." He went into the dining room and placed it on the table.
"No, thanks. I'm fine." Hearing Dean's voice all of a sudden was jarring. He sounded so lifeless.
"You should eat something," Bobby insisted.
"I said I'm fine."
I looked through the hall and into the room. Dean was having a swig of beer. Another swig of beer. It was about the only thing he'd actually done since we came in. Drinking his troubles away wasn't going to solve anything. But who the hell was I to tell him how to deal with his loss? After all, I knew what losing your sibling was like. Knew the gut-wrenching pain it caused. And in no way was Dean to blame for what happened tonight, but I'd bet every cent I had that he felt guilty as sin.
"Here." Bobby tore me away from my thoughts as he handed me the bucket.
"Thanks." I took it from him, but I had no intention of eating it. I didn't think I could stomach anything.
He walked back over to Dean. "Dean... I hate to bring this up, I really do." His voice was gentle, caring, but filled with caution. "But don't you think maybe it's time... we bury Sam?"
I was glad he was the first one to address the elephant in the room, because I sure didn't want to be on the receiving end of whatever Dean's response would be.
Dean threw him a glare then sat at the table. "No."
"We could maybe..."
"What? Torch his corpse?" Dean's words were lacking the heat I'd expected from him. I shouldn't have been surprised: the man was dead inside. "Not yet."
Bobby leant on the table, closing in on Dean. "I want you to come with me."
Dean shook his head with finality. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Dean, please," Bobby begged.
"Would you cut me some slack?"
"I just don't think you should be alone, that's all. I gotta admit, I could use your help. Something big is going down, end-of-the-world big."
"Well, then let it end!"
Dean's sudden roar made me jump. There was the fire.
"You don't mean that."
At this point, I was pretty sure he did. When I'd stood in front of my house while John had told my parents that Sophie was dead, the thought of everything ending then and there, would have been pretty damn appealing.
Dean threw his chair back as he got up into Bobby's face. "You don't think so, huh? You don't think I've given enough? You don't think I've paid enough? I'm done with it. All of it. And if you know what's good for you, you'd turn around, and get the hell out of here."
He tore towards Bobby. "Go!" He pushed against Bobby's chest with both hands, shoving him back. That was when my brain finally kicked into gear, and I got up, running into the room. Dean may be hurting right now, but I knew he wouldn't want to hurt anyone he cared about.
Both Bobby and I looked at Dean in stunned silence. For a moment, Dean and I locked gazes. It was the first time we'd really looked at each other since….
Dean broke the contact and looked away. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please, just go… both of you." He moved over to rest on the back of a chair, as if his whole body was struggling to stay upright under the weight of what had happened.
Bobby moved first. He turned away from Dean. "You know where I'll be." Then he walked out the door.
I didn't want to leave him. To be honest, I didn't trust him not to do anything stupid. I knew all too well that right now he wanted to be alone: I'd wanted the same thing after Sophie. Yet wanting and needing were two very different things. But I also knew he'd give it his best shot to force me out.
"Please." He hadn't looked up, but he must have known I was still there. That one word was whispered so lightly that I only just about heard it.
Knowing there was nothing I could do, nothing I could say to ease any of the pain, I walked away. I peered into the room where Sam still lay, and I couldn't stop the tears that welled in my eyes once more. He was really gone. And this would be the final time I saw him. I closed my eyes, took a breath, and continued on my way. Each step I took felt wrong. The further I got from Dean, the more I felt like I was making a terrible mistake. But what else could I do?
When I got out of the house, Bobby was waiting by my truck. "I meant what I said in there, I could use some help." He still looked taken aback by what had happened.
My answer was automatic. "Sure." At least this I knew how to do. Research and hunt. The only things I was really good for.
I jumped in the truck as Bobby took the passenger seat and we drove back in weighted silence. I took him back to his truck where we'd all first met up, back when we had no idea what was waiting in store for us. If things had gone differently, if we had found Sam two minutes earlier, would events still have unfolded in the same way? I knew there was no use in what ifs but that didn't stop them from circling around my head as I followed Bobby to his home in Sioux Falls.
When we arrived, I trudged up the steps behind him.
"You wanna get some shut-eye first?" he asked as he dumped his bag by the door.
"I don't think I could sleep right now. Don't think I'd want to." I knew when I closed my eyes, I'd be haunted. Not only would I replay today's events, but I knew Sophie would make an appearance. And that was the last thing I needed.
"Alright," Bobby said with a shrug.
"So where do we start?" I asked. It was only then that I remembered that we still didn't know what was actually going on. Why had Sam been in Cold Oak? What did Ash want to tell us? Right now, it was the blind leading the blind.
Bobby shook his head as if he was having the same thoughts. "I guess… check again for demonic omens. That yellow-eyed demon is up to something. There was sulfur all over that town. And we need to find whoever it was that… did that to Sam."
There was a lot to do, but still nowhere to go. All I could say was, "Ok."
I grabbed my laptop from my truck then settled down at Bobby's table and began scouring the web for any slight possibility of demonic activity. As I sat there, what must have been coming up to an hour with nothing to show for it, I felt Bobby's gaze drifting over to me more and more as he sat on the opposite end of the table to me. And it didn't feel like a gaze of concern.
I looked up at him, only to see reservation written all over his face. "What? Are you serious? Still giving me the third degree? Even now?"
Bobby waited a moment before he spoke, like he wasn't sure if he should say what he was about to. "You Paul McCormick's daughter?
My breath caught in my throat. "H—How did you know that?"
I didn't exactly go around bragging about my familial connections—for obvious reasons. Had Bobby been digging into my past? At that thought, a spark of anger awoke in me.
He cleared his throat. "I couldn't place your name when you told me at first, but it came to me eventually. I worked with your father on a couple of jobs."
"You know my father?" I wasn't entirely sure I wanted this conversation to go any further, but the question slipped out regardless. My heart was pounding in my chest.
"I'd say 'know him' is a loose term. I haven't seen him in at least ten years."
So he hadn't seen him since his life had gone to hell, which was probably for the best. But then again, had he found out about what happened, what I had done, some other way? That would certainly explain his less than warm reaction to me.
"So if you know who I am," I said, already dreading his answer, "then why do you keep looking at me like—"
"Your father was a fool." He said it so point-blank, so assured. "He was reckless and thought he was God's gift of the huntin' world."
His answer was so far from what I was expecting him to say. That sure didn't sound like my father. At least, it didn't sound like my father before Sophie's death. Then again, I had been a child. I was looking at my father through the eyes of a young girl who'd adored him. He had been my teacher, my protector. Had I been blinded by the love I used to have for him? Or had Bobby gotten it wrong? Either way, it suddenly clicked why Bobby had been off with me from the start.
"And you're thinking the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," I said with a derisive smile.
He raised a single eyebrow in response. "It doesn't usually."
Wow. This guy didn't even know me, and he was so sure he had me all figured out. That spark of anger I'd felt began to spread.
"Well if I'm so reckless, if I'm such a self-absorbed fool, then why the hell are you asking for my help?"
It took him a moment to respond. "Because I'm hoping I'm wrong. Dean and Sa—" It was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown onto the conversation. Reality was brought back. Then Bobby shook it off and continued. "They seem to trust you, so that gives you a damned good foot up. We're gonna need all hands on deck when whatever this thing is hits."
So I was on, what? Probation? Bobby would observe me, test me, to see if I was good enough? Valuable enough? Trustworthy enough? Who the hell did he think he was?
"You know what, Bobby? Screw you." I grabbed my laptop and stormed into the kitchen. He didn't follow me, and that was the smartest move he'd made all day, because there was no saying what I would do or say if he continued to push me and piss me off. Why did I have to prove myself to him? To anybody? Hell, hunters were a bunch of entitled assholes. I had every mind to grab my shit and go, to never look back, to wish I had never met either of—
I raked my fingers through my hair and took a deep, calming breath. I knew I couldn't leave. Wouldn't leave. Sam deserved better than that. I would just have to stamp down my temper and get on with the job. Then after… after, I could leave.
I cracked on with the research and slowly but surely, the signs were making themselves clear. Where there had been nothing before, I was now finding dozens of demonic omens. But why now?
I stalked back into the main room, to find Bobby pouring over a large map he'd laid across the table. I was big enough and old enough to act like our previous conversation hadn't happened—there were more important things at play here.
"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" I asked.
Bobby looked up. "Demonic omens everywhere?" He nodded. "I've started mapping them, see if we can get some sort of pattern."
I went back to it, marking my own findings. And after about half an hour, a pattern did seem to be happening, but it didn't make any sense.
I called out to Bobby, "Hey, you got anything yet from southern Wyoming?"
"As a matter of fact, no," he called back.
Strange. There wasn't a single sign of demonic activity or omens in that area. Not one. I started searching specifically in that area, but there wasn't a even one to be found. I got up and rubbed my eyes. They were starting to hurt from being sat in front of a screen for far too long.
I heard a knock on the door and the scrape of Bobby's chair as he got up to answer it.
I opened Bobby's fridge and grabbed a beer. If he didn't like me helping myself to his stuff… well, he was just gonna have to get over it, wasn't he?
"Hey, Rae. You alright?"
I spun and my bottle dropped to the floor, smashing on impact. Had I fallen asleep at the table? No. No, I was wide awake. But how… how was he…?
"Erm… y—yeah, Sam. Yeah, I'm good. Y—you?" I must have looked like a deer in headlights. But how was it that Sam Winchester was standing right in front of me, looking as if he's just come back from a nice long vacation? What the actual fuck?
"Could be worse," Sam said with a boyish smile and a shrug. "Bobby patched me up pretty good."
"Yeah, he's a great… patcher?" I didn't know what was coming out of my mouth. My mind was in a whirl.
Dean came round with the corner with an equally stunned Bobby. Dean wore a faint smile, but there was something hidden beneath it, something I couldn't quite put my finger on. My best bet? Dean had gone and done exactly what I thought he would: something stupid.
"Well Sam's better," he said. "And we're back in it now, so... what do you guys know?"
Was he really just expecting us to continue as normal? As if he hadn't just walked in with his newly-returned-from-the-dead brother? I had a lot of freakin' questions. Though it seemed my mouth and brain weren't quite working in-sync.
Thankfully Bobby managed to pull himself out his daze to answer. "Well, we found something. But we're not sure what the hell it means." We followed Bobby back out from the kitchen to the main room.
"What is it?" Sam asked.
I still couldn't believe he was standing there. What had Dean done? Don't get me wrong, I was so happy to see Sam back, but seriously... what had Dean done?
"Demonic omens... like a frickin' tidal wave," Bobby explained. Cattle deaths. Lightning storms. They skyrocketed from out of nowhere. All around here." He pointed it out on the map for the boys to see. "Except for one place... Southern Wyoming."
"Wyoming?" Dean asked.
I stepped forward and finally found my voice. "Yeah. It's the one area that's totally devoid of demons. It's spotless. It's almost as if…" I stopped. Bobby and I hadn't exactly talked this part through, but with the pattern that had formed on the map, it really looked as if…
"What?" Sam urged.
"The demons are surrounding it." It didn't make any sense, but that's what came to mind. When Bobby didn't voice any objections, I figured we were on the same wavelength.
"But you don't know why?" Dean asked.
"No," Bobby answered. "And by this point our eyes are swimming. Sam, would you take a look at it with Raelynn? Maybe you could catch something we couldn't."
"Yeah, sure."
"Come on, Dean. I got some more books in the truck." Bobby grabbed his jacket. "Help me lug 'em in." He walked outside without another word.
Dean and I both knew Bobby didn't need any help with some damn books. He followed Bobby outside with the look of a man facing the gallows. Hopefully Bobby would get out of Dean what had happened when we left. We couldn't exactly ask him in front of Sam—he clearly had no clue he'd died.
Once the door closed behind Dean, it was just me and Sam. I couldn't look him in the eyes as we got to work once more. Well actually it was just Sam getting to work—I was just looking busy. How was he back? Was it witchcraft? Some sort of voodoo potion? Hell, did Dean pull a Superman and reverse the earth so time itself reversed? At that point, I might've believed anything.
Was it even really Sam? He looked like himself, sounded like himself. But… how?
I finally managed to find my backbone and look at him properly as he scanned though a book. "So, um… are you sure you're feeling ok?"
He smiled. "Really, I'm fine. So I'm guessing Dean called to tell you I was missing."
"Err, yeah."
He chuckled. "Did you give him hell for it?"
Right, my constant disbelief at the Winchesters losing one another. I chuckled, but even to my ears it sounded forced. "Something like that."
It had so quickly turned into something way more serious, more serious than Sam probably realised, than one of their usual antics. It seemed like so long ago Dean had called me. Everything had changed and yet nothing at all. Not now that Sam was back.
Sam put his book down and quirked a brow. "Are you sure you're ok?"
No, I really wasn't, and was obviously doing a bad job of hiding it. Too much had happened and there were still too many unanswered questions. But Sam didn't need to know that. "I'm fine, really. Just been a long couple of days."
He appeared to accept my response and got back to his research.
A few minutes later, and hopefully after a long, meaningful conversation where Dean spilled all the beans, he and Bobby walked back in. But they weren't alone.
"Ellen?"
"Gang's all here," she said.
"Good to see you… you know," I said. It was about time we had some goddamn good news around here. Yet although she'd survived, she looked exhausted and emotionally drained.
"Yeah," she said as she pulled out a chair at the table and slumped into it.
Bobby and Dean joined us around the table. Bobby grabbed a shot glass and poured what I guessed was holy water into it before sliding it across the table to Ellen.
"Bobby is this really necessary?" she asked.
"Just a belt of Holy Water." He shrugged. "Shouldn't hurt."
She downed the drink without a flinch. "Whiskey now, if you don't mind." With a flick of her wrist, she slid the glass straight back to Bobby.
"Ellen, what happened?" Dean asked. "How'd you get out?"
"I wasn't supposed to. I was supposed to be in there with everybody else. But we ran out of pretzels, of all things. It was just dumb luck." She took the shot of whiskey Bobby gave her. "Anyway, that's when Ash called. Panic in his voice. He told me to look in the safe. Then the call cut out. By the time I got back, the flames were sky-high. And everybody was dead. I couldn't have been gone more than fifteen minutes." Her voice had started to shake and who could blame her? That had been a close shave with death, and survivor's guilt was a bitch.
"Sorry, Ellen," Sam said gently.
"A lot of good people died in there. And I got to live. Lucky me."
We all sat there a moment, thinking about what had happened to Ellen. To Ash.
Bobby was the one to break the silence. "Ellen, you mentioned a safe."
She nodded. "A hidden safe we keep in the basement."
"Demons get what was in it?"
"No." She reached into her jacket and pulled out a map. She passed it to Dean who opened it up for all of us to see.
It was a map of Wyoming. There were 5 crosses marked on the map: all in the Southern Wyoming area.
"Wyoming," Dean said. "What does that mean?"
We all looked at one another with blank faces. The map hadn't answered any of our questions; just left us with more. It was time to hit the books. Again.
We each took a pile of books and started trawling through them. Minute after minute. Page after page. My head and eyes were over it. After a couple of hours, Bobby finally found what we were after.
"I don't believe it," he said.
"What? You got something?" Sam asked.
"A lot more than that." He placed the book he'd been reading down next to the map. The rest of us gathered round like we were having story time. "Each of these X's is an abandoned frontier church—all mid-19th century. And all of them built by Samuel Colt."
"Samuel Colt?" Dean asked. "The demon-killing, gun-making Samuel Colt?"
Did I just hear that right? "Wait, wait, wait. Hold up," I said. "There's a gun that can kill demons? And nobody thought to mention that to me?" I may have been addressing everyone, but my eyes were lasered on Dean, who had the right mind to at least look a little sheepish. Guess you were wrong Bobby. Dean obviously didn't trust me as much as Bobby had been led to believe. It was just another knife in the back. What else was new?
Bobby shifted awkwardly before continuing. "And there's more. He built private railway lines connecting church to church. It just happens to lay out like this." He took a pen and connected each cross. It formed a pentagram. Which meant…
"Tell me that's not what I think it is," Dean muttered.
"It's a Devil's Trap," Sam and I said simultaneously. Look at us doing the talking in unison thing, as if everything was back to normal. I wish.
"A 100-square mile Devil's Trap," Sam added.
Why the hell would anyone have felt the need to build a Devil's Trap that size? Huh. Ash had said something big was coming, I just hadn't realised he meant it literally.
"That's brilliant," Dean said. "Iron lines demons can't cross."
"I've never heard of anything that massive," Ellen said.
"No one has," Bobby added.
"And after all these years none of the lines are broken?" Dean asked. "I mean, it still works?"
"Definitely." We all turned at Sam's answer. He sounded so sure.
"How do you know?" Dean asked sceptically.
"All those omens Bobby and Rae found. I mean the demons; they must be circling and they can't get in."
"Yeah, well... they're trying," Bobby said.
"Why? What's inside?" Ellen asked.
That, Ellen, was the million dollar question.
"That's what I've been looking for," Dean said. "And, uh, there's nothing except an old cowboy cemetery right in the middle."
"Well what's so important about a cemetery?" I asked, not really expecting anyone to answer.
"Or what's Colt trying to protect?" Sam added.
We sat there for a moment in thought. We were getting more of the puzzle pieces, but nothing was fitting yet.
"Well, unless..." Dean started.
"Unless what?" Bobby urged.
"What if Colt wasn't trying to keep the demons out?" Dean said. "What if he was trying to keep something in?"
And with that one question, everything seemed a lot worse. Way worse. If there was something in there, it had to be pretty damn powerful to need a Devil's Trap of that scale to keep it there.
"Now that's a comforting thought," Ellen said as if reading my mind.
"Yeah, you think?" Dean said.
"Could they do it, Bobby?" Sam asked. "Could they get inside?"
"This thing's so powerful, you'd practically need an A-bomb to destroy it. No way a full-blood demon gets across," Bobby said.
"No. But I know who could," Sam said, looking off into the distance.
"Well," I said once it was clear he wasn't going to voice his thoughts out loud. "Don't leave us hanging."
"Jake," he said.
Come on, Sammy, we need more than that.
"Aaand who's Jake?" I asked.
"He's the guy that tried to kill me," he replied.
I had a sudden flashback to seeing Sam fall to his knees, to chasing after the man—Jake—into the woods.
"Yellow-Eyes had rounded up five of us," Sam explained. "We all had… abilities. All twenty-three. Andy was there too. He…" Sam didn't need to finish that thought; his look said it all. Poor Andy. I had genuinely liked the guy.
"Yellow-Eyes said only one of us was gonna make it out, that he wanted a leader," Sam continued. "I'm guessing for this." He nodded towards the map.
Well, at least now we had a destination to head to and a person to hunt down. Things were moving, yet it still wasn't clear what was actually going on. I guessed we'd find out sooner or later.
We all got ready to head out, but there was one thing I needed to do before we left. I got my moment when Dean headed out to his car.
"Well?" I asked as I followed him outside.
"Hey there, Princess," he said. And he was back to wearing that smug grin I hated so much.
"Don't you 'hey there, Princess' me. What the hell?"
"What the hell are men doing wearing skinny jeans?" he said as he put a bag in the trunk. "What the hell are vegetables doing on pizza? What the hell is that sorry excuse for a truck you continue to drive?" He slammed the trunk shut and turned to face me. "You've got that look like you wanna hit me."
"Oh, I'm not gonna hit you," I snarled. "But I will gut you like a fish if you don't start talking. What the hell happened?"
Bobby hadn't said anything when I asked him as everyone started getting ready, other than I needed to ask Dean myself. Well, here I am Deanie. And you're gonna answer me one way or another.
"Aright, alright," Dean groaned, knowing I meant business. He sighed. "About a year ago, Sam and I worked a case involving a reaper. It owed us a favour and I collected."
I didn't know whether to laugh or to start gutting. Did he really expect me to believe that?
"That's it?" I asked. "A reaper owed you a favour?"
He shoved his hands in his jacket pocket and shrugged. "Yeah."
I folded my arms against my chest. "Why don't I believe you?"
He huffed. "Believe whatever you want, Short Stack. I wasn't gonna let my brother die."
Now that I believed—Dean would do anything to keep Sam from dying. But this story just seemed too easy. Had Dean told Bobby this too? Even if I asked Bobby, I didn't think he would tell me the truth anyway—he still didn't know if I was "trustworthy" enough.
"A reaper just brought Sam back, no strings?" If I sounded a little skeptical… oh well.
"Like I said," he turned his back to me as he walked over to the driver's side door. "It owed us. One favour… and I collected."
I reached out and grabbed his arm, turning him back to face me.
"You promise that's what happened?" You got one more chance to give it to me straight, Dean. Our eyes were locked onto one another's. I silently plead with him to tell me the truth. Didn't I at least deserve that?
"All joking aside," he said, completely devoid of any humour and as serious as I'd ever seen him. "Yes, that's what happened."
After a moment, I nodded and stepped back. "Ok." I let it rest.
I walked over to my truck as Ellen, Bobby, and Sam walked out the house.
I don't know what happened when Bobby and I left Dean. I don't know how Sam had come back from the dead. All I did know, was that Dean Winchester had just lied to my face.
Dean and Sam took the lead in the Impala. I followed behind them, with Bobby and Ellen bringing up the rear. The sky had long since faded from the purple and orange swirls of the sunset, to pitch black. None of us knew what we would be walking into, and I couldn't lie, I felt a little anxious at the thought of the unknown. So much had gone to shit in the past couple of days, I dreaded to think what was waiting for us. But I wouldn't let it show. Once we got there, I'd shake it off and do my damned job.
When we pulled up outside the cemetery, I did exactly as I said. I left all traces of doubt and dread in my truck and pulled out my gun. The others did the same. We were ready.
There was no one in sight when we got into the cemetery. We'd beaten Jake there. For once we might have actually had the upper hand. Knowing it wouldn't be long though until he got there, we split up and waited in the shadows. Everything was quiet. A little too quiet if you asked me. I couldn't even hear the wind blowing or any animals scurrying in the bushes.
Eventually, the gates creaked open. It was showtime. I carefully peered around the edge of the tombstone I'd hunkered down behind. The tall man I'd chased into the woods back in Cold Oak was making his way through the graves. He headed towards a crypt at the far end. One by one we edged out of our hiding spots and crept up behind him, forming a semi-circle so he had nowhere to go.
"Howdy, Jake," Sam said.
Jake spun to face him, looking like he'd seen a ghost, which in a way, he had. "Wait... you were dead. I killed you."
"Yeah? Well next time, finish the job."
"I did! I cut clean through your spinal cord, man. You can't be alive. You can't be."
Sam cut his eyes towards Dean, doubt creeping up on him. Now was not the time to be distracted with that conversation.
"Okay, just take it real easy there, son," Bobby said.
"And if I don't?"
"Wait and see," Sam said forcefully.
"What, you a tough guy all of a sudden? What are you gonna do? Kill me?" Jake jeered.
"It's a thought."
"You had your chance. You couldn't."
"I won't make that mistake twice."
Jake started to laugh. It was sinister and cold.
"What are you smiling at, you little bitch?" Dean asked.
Jake turned to look at me. "Hey sweetheart, do me a favour... put that gun to your head."
Why the hell would I—my left arm dropped to my sides and my right arm, gun still in hand, lifted to my head. I couldn't stop it. Couldn't control it. I tried with every bit of strength that I had, but my body wasn't my own anymore. I was at Jake's mercy.
Jake grinned. "See that Ava girl was right. Once you give in to it, there's all sorts of new Jedi mind tricks you can learn."
"Let her go," Dean snarled.
"Shoot him," I managed to say through gritted teeth.
"You'll be mopping up skull before you get a shot off. Now, everybody, put your guns down." He turned to me. "Except you, sweetheart."
I wanted to pull the gun from my head, aim it in his direction and fire, but my arm was locked in place. Someone had to take him down.
Dean caught my eyes, concern woven over his face. "Don't do it," I said.
Yet one by one, they all lowered their guns.
"Okay. Thank you."
In a flash, Jake spun round, took a gun out of his jacket and inserted it into the door of the mausoleum behind him. While he was distracted, Bobby and Dean lunged for me. Dean wrapped his arms around me and jerked me back, while Bobby wrenched my hand into the air. Without meaning, my finger acted on its own accord and squeezed the trigger. A shot fired into the air.
"You all right?" Dean asked.
"Yeah… yeah, I'm good. Thanks," I said, a little shaken. That had been a close one.
Another gun shot rang out. Then another. And another. And another. With each bang, Jake jerked and blood spread across his back until he fell back to the ground. Sam stood holding the gun. And his face… his face looked… different.
He walked over to Jake, who was somehow still breathing, and aimed the gun at him once more.
"Please... don't," Jake begged. "Please."
Without hesitation, Sam shot him three more times.
Holy cow. Jake needed to die, no doubt about it, but the way Sam executed him? It was like it wasn't Sam at all. Looking around, I could see we were all failing to hide the shock of it.
But there were other things to worry about. The door to the crypt, where Jake had inserted the gun—the Colt—was moving. The centre spun, as if something was about to open.
"Oh, no," Bobby said.
"Bobby, what is it?" asked Ellen.
"It's Hell."
Wait a minute. He didn't mean Hell Hell, did he? That was crazy. It couldn't—
The centre stopped spinning and the door began to creak and groan.
"Take cover—now!" Bobby yelled.
We ran for it. We hurtled over headstones and ducked down.
It was like an explosion went off. I clutched my hands over my ears. A shockwave rippled through the cemetery as a cloud of black smoke shot out.
"What the hell just happened?!" Dean yelled out.
"That's a Devil's Gate," Ellen explained. "A damn door to Hell."
Oh we were so screwed. That black cloud hadn't been a cloud at all. It was demons. And they were flooding out of the gate like a tidal wave.
"Come on! We gotta shut that gate!" Ellen said.
We leapt up and dashed for the door. We slammed our weight against them: Ellen and I on one side, Bobby, Sam and… where was Dean?
I looked back as we struggled with all our might to close it. But it was barely budging. There was a man standing with Dean. Suddenly, Dean flew through the air and crashed into a headstone.
"Dean!"
At my shout, Sam looked back too. As soon as he saw the man and his brother, he ran off to help.
I continued to push with Ellen against the door—it had only moved a couple of inches. My arms were burning from the struggle. We needed to get this door closed and fast. But I was torn. I looked back again. The man was looming over Dean, while Sam was pinned to a tree. Who was this guy? Was it a demon? And someone had to help them. If they—
"Don't," Bobby called out to me. "That's the Yellow-Eyed Demon. Sam and Dean have got this. We need you here."
Damn it. He was right. Closing the gate had to be the priority. Ellen and I pushed and pushed, our feet slipping and sliding underneath us. But inch after inch, the door came closer to closing. We were almost there.
Yet another shot echoed around the cemetery. This time, I didn't look to see what had happened. With a final shove, the doors finally shut. The centre of the door spun once again, locking itself back up. All three of our breaths were heaving from the effort.
When I finally turned around, I stopped short. Yellow Eyes was on the ground, dead. And standing in between Dean and Sam was… it couldn't be.
Of course it could—if any man could escape Hell itself, it was John Winchester.
John raised his hand to Dean's shoulder. No words were exchanged, but I was sure enough was said in the look he gave to Dean, then to Sam. At least now, they got to have an actual goodbye. Neither Sam nor Dean had known what was going to happen to John all those months ago. It had been such a shock for them both. But now? Now they knew he was going.
With a final smile, John stepped back and in a flash of white light, he was gone.
Bobby made to move towards them.
"Wait," I said, putting a hand on his arm. "Give them a minute."
Together, Sam and Dean walked over to the body on the floor. They'd done it. After all the years and pain of searching, of hunting, the demon that killed their mom was dead. This moment had to be just the two of them.
While Sam and Dean were talking, saying whatever they needed to, Bobby, Ellen and I walked back to the vehicles.
As I walked over to my truck, Bobby stopped me. "I was wrong."
I looked at him, knowing exactly what he was talking about, but being passed the point of caring. All I wanted to do was hop in my truck, head to the nearest diner for a strawberry shake and waffles, then crash for the next twelve hours. Who knew closing a Devil's Gate could be so tiring?
At my stony silence, Bobby sighed. "I get why those boys trust you. You wanted to help them; I could see it. Instead you chose to stand between the world and Hell itself. Anyone that does that is alright in my book."
"I'm not looking for your approval."
He nodded. "I know."
Sam and Dean came through the trees. I walked over to them, and Bobby followed. That conversation was best left there. We'd both said what we needed to.
"Well... Yellow-Eyed Demon might be dead, but a lot more got through that gate," Ellen said as she walked up.
"How many you think?" Dean asked.
"Hundred. Maybe two hundred," Sam said. "It's an army. He's unleashed an army."
We may have closed the gate, but we had a whole new wave of trouble on our hands.
"Hope to hell you guys are ready," Bobby said. "'Cause the war has just begun."
Wonderful. Just what I always wanted: a war with demons. Should be great fun.
"Well, then..." Dean removed the Colt from his jacket and threw it into the Impala's trunk. "We got work to do." He slammed the trunk shut and with that, we all started to head off.
The demons were gonna have to wait a damned day. My immediate plans hadn't changed: shake, food, bed. In that order. I hopped inside my truck and shut the door. Just as I went to start the engine, Dean opened the door back up.
"So I was thinking—"
"Should I call an ambulance?" I asked.
"Ha. You're hilarious. May I continue?"
I raised an eyebrow as I slumped back in my seat. "Can I stop you?"
He braced an arm again the door frame. "Seems there are a lot of nasties out there now. Like Sam said, we've got a whole army we're facing."
"Ok…"
"Maybe it'd be a good idea if we, you know, stuck a little closer together from here on out."
I laughed and shook my head. "That has got to be the worse pick-up line you've ever used."
"Oh please," he said, screwing his face up. "I wasn't talking about that. I mean…" He shrugged. "It wouldn't hurt having a little fun on the way."
It was almost good to see Dean back to his semi-normal self. Sort of. I rolled my eyes. "Pig." I kicked him and went to shut the door again, but he stopped me.
"In all seriousness, things are gonna get dicey. Strength in numbers and all that."
What he was saying made sense. But that would mean spending more time with Dean Winchester. Would I really want to put myself through that level of torture?
"I don't know." I sighed. "All that time together? We must just wind up killing each other."
He laughed but it was devoid of humour. "I could think of worse ways to go." Dean seemed to stare down at something unknown before he shook himself out of it. "So is that a yes or a no?"
I pretended to mull it over before shrugging. "I'll think about it. See you around, Winchester."
I threw him a wink and he finally stepped back. I managed to close my door and was off. Did I really want to work with the Winchesters? Hell, would it even be avoidable? A whole lot of demons and who knew what else got out of that gate. It was gonna be all hands on deck.
Regardless, whatever was coming next, it felt like a new chapter in my life was about to start. And I wasn't all that sure it was gonna have a happy ending.
And that's a wrap on Seasons 1 and 2. I hope you all enjoyed this story. I do have ideas brewing for future seasons with Rae and the boys, and if people are interested, then I'll write it :)
Please leave a review if you can, I would greatly appreciate it.