Sunday: Day 6
Rachel was nowhere inside, leaving the old home eerie and the basement filled with the unsettling presence of a stubbornly silent demon. Upstairs on ground level Dean took a well-deserved beer break, the clinking of bottle on table a soothing contrast to the tension in the air. In the middle of his second bottle, the doorbell rang, breaking the uneasy silence. Sam answered, opening the door to find Liza Abel standing on the porch. She wore fresh clothes, but a darkening bruise marred her otherwise composed appearance.
"Hey, I made it, like I promised," Liza said sheepishly, her gaze momentarily dropping to the ground. "Oh, and I gotta grab some firewood from outside for the living room." Despite her attempt at nonchalance, the tension in her voice betrayed her unease, adding to the atmosphere of apprehension in the house.
"Oh, right. Well, I can come help you?" Sam offered holding the door open wider but Liza smiled and waved it off.
"No, no. I'll walk around so I don't have to wipe my shoes off twice!" And with that, Liza quickly made her way around the house and Sam joined a lost Dean at the table.
"Still can't find the rosary? Any rosary?" Dean asked lowly but Sam shook his head.
"No, it's gone and I'm not really sure how. And for some reason there's no Catholics within an hour radius of Davis." Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Still refusing to talk?"
Dean nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of his beer as Liza entered through the back door, her hands trembling slightly from the cold. With a gentle gesture, they ushered her into the warmth of the living room, where the crackling fireplace offered a comforting glow.
Sam turned his attention to Liza, offering her a warm drink. "How about something to warm you up?" he suggested, and Liza nodded gratefully, requesting a coffee with cream. "Coming right up," Sam replied with a reassuring smile before heading to the kitchen.
Meanwhile, Dean took a seat across from Liza, his expression filled with concern as he examined the bruising on her face. "You sure you're alright, Blondie?" he asked, his tone softening with genuine worry. "That looks like it hurts like a bitch."
Carefully, Liza touched her face but didn't make any facial expression of one emotion or another. Rather, there seemed to be a series of complex feelings that processed through her in time for Sam to pass her cup of coffee to her. She thanked him.
"So... is Jezebel down stairs?" She hesitated to ask and Dean paused mid sip to look over at the blonde. "I-I just... I could hear her screaming faintly outside... the windows..."
"Well, yes, and we're going to get rid of that demon inside of her after we get the answers we need." Sam confirmed and promised the teenaged girl with a small smile. "We won't hurt her, promise."
"I-okay." Liza nodded and looked over at Dean who had his eyebrows furrowed. "Are-are you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah." Dean waved off with a shake of his head and look towards the door to the basement. Another sip of beer and he set the bottle down. "Actually... I think you being there might help us get some information."
"Dean!" Sam admonished at the thought of how traumatizing it would be to watch your sister be interrogated while possessed. "You can't just—"
"No, I think having her there might help bring Jezebel back. We've done it before."
"But—" Sam hesitated before looking over at Liza. "Would you be okay with that?" For a moment Liza stared at Dean who stared back equally. Eventually Dean smiled over at Liza with a shrug.
"You don't have to. I can get what I want outta her anyways." He sipped his drink nonchalantly.
"I-I don't... I would like... I want to see my sister." Liza finally landed on a sentence and Dean smirked over at Sam in victory. With a slap of his knees, Dean was up and leading the group down into the cellar where Jezebel still lied on her side, tied to a chair, with her hands behind her in what must have been the most uncomfortable position the teen had ever been in.
At the new steps she immediately began wiggling and tried to force her way to see the exit of the room. Each strain of her body sent more stings of pain and shocks of hurt through her limbs and her right arm was already numb from laying on it for so long.
"Let me go, you jerk!" Jezebel snapped and ignored the pull of the rope against her skin. "Do you know how dumb you seem right now? I swear, when I get out of this I-I'm gonna freakin' make you pay- ah!"
A squeak-like yell left Jezebel's lips when her chair was suddenly jerked off the ground and set down on all fours harshly. There he was, in front of her and staring with those dark eyes filled with what she could also describe as flames of hell.
"Tell me more." Dean shrugged. "It only proves me right."
Jezebel's eyes landed on a quivering Liza who had made herself know. "H-hi Jezebel." The blonde greeted pitifully with a shy wave. The brunette's face soured immediately and took haste to fight harder than ever before against her bonds. Droplets of liquid ran down her hands and there was a harsh sting against her wrists, but all that mattered was her her her—
"Fuck!" Jezebel hollered out, letting the pain fuel her rage. All her eyes could see was that shine of black that marred her sister's face.
Shake, shake, crash—!
While Jezebel struggled with anger, the room erupted into a violent tremor with various objects crashing around and Dean only let himself stare for a moment before he grabbed Liza's arm and propelled her to the exit. With an aggressive shove, the quivering blonde was forced up the stairs and ordered to remain there with a harsh bark. The room began to quiet so did Jezebel who stared at the room around her with wide eyes. There were no footsteps, but she could feel him.
"Please, you have to believe me." Jezebel begged in barely a whimper. "I-I know I can be a bitch, I won't hide that, but I'm not a demon."
The footsteps began towards her in a slow, calculating rhythm and all that Jezebel could think about was the threats and promise of fire in the man's eyes. She had thought they were different. He was behind her now and Jezebel refused to allow her weakened body to tremble.
"Dean—!"
A hand on the back of her neck and the other on the back of her chair sent her body folding over her lap in a painful strain against the rope binding her to the seat. But just as quickly as it began, it stopped. Her brain went foggy at the sudden movement and raw pain, time seemed to become nonexistent.
Jezebel felt a firm grip on her shoulders, grounding her. When she lifted her gaze, she was met with Dean's panicked expression mere inches from her face. His eyes were wide and staring into hers with expectation.
"Christo." Nothing happened except for a hitch in breath and his hands tightened on her shoulders. "Christo!" Again he was met with the same green eyes staring back widely into his own.
"Sonuvabitch...!"
His hands jumped away like he was burnt and then they were on the ties in an instant. Jezebel paused, catching her breath as Dean loosened the tie around her waist, followed by the ropes around her wrists. She winced as the cuffs were removed, feeling the relief of freedom flood through her. With a sigh, she rubbed around her raw wrists while Dean worked on undoing her legs and ankles.
"...I'm sorry," Dean murmured quietly as he began untying her left leg, his voice heavy with emotion. He couldn't bring himself to meet her confused gaze. The room was filled with a tense silence as he moved to free her right leg. "I... you didn't deserve that."
"What took—?"
—you so long?
Jezebel shook her head and dropped her shoulders. "When?"
"The 'Jezebel' and her wanting coffee." Dean said quietly. The rope around her hips was a lot tighter and more complex than the others. "But I should have remembered your damned hoodie."
"My hoodie...?"
"Yes, it's... fucking knots!" Dean hissed before he pulled his shirt down from the collar to show Jezebel the tattoo on his chest. She blinked at the familiar shape that she had though was some random design from a random flea market.
"That's..."
"Anti-possession tattoo." Dean elaborated before he continued the untying. "It keeps the demons away so they can't hop on in."
"...she wanted me to to take it off." Jezebel whispered and Dean paused for only a moment, before silently finishing the ties on her right leg. Then her left. "...she wants me, doesn't she? Why?"
When Dean didn't answer she looked down at her injuries with a shaky breath. She looked up and Dean was looking at her wrists.
"...my entire life I've had scripture after law after punishment shoved down my throat. Sometimes literally." The teen's fingers fumbled with her sleeves, attempting to conceal the marks on her wrists, as she met Dean's gaze. In her eyes, he saw a haunting mix of resignation and detachment, as if she had already accepted her fate. "Revelations chapter two, verse 20. Am I... Am I really that terrible of a person? Am I destined to live a life of... of that? Because someone named me and made me and chose for me?"
Dean froze for a moment before his hands moved mechanically, his mind momentarily transported elsewhere. In the dimly lit room, the echoes of screams reverberated like ghosts from the past, the metallic scent of blood lingered in the air, and the distant crackling of fire seemed to envelop him like a suffocating cloak, reminding him of memories he wished he could forget...
For a brief moment, Dean's gaze wandered, lost in the flickering shadows dancing on the walls. In the depths of the teen's eyes, he saw a reflection of himself from years ago, haunted eyes staring back with a hollow emptiness that mirrored the abyss of despair he had once known too well. The weight of guilt and regret pressed down on him, threatening to suffocate him as memories of his time in hell flooded back with relentless force. It was like he could see her in that despair he had felt, or worse, it felt like the misery and eternal agony that he had forced others to feel and she was just another victim of—
"No—" The abrupt interruption sent both heads snapping up, the sudden thump reverberating through the room followed by a rapid succession of similar sounds. Hastily, they raced up the stairs, emerging into a scene of chaos unfolding throughout the house. They arrived just in time to witness Liza's smug smirk as Sam struggled to push himself up from the ground with a groan.
"Sammy!" Dean's voice rang out, filled with concern as he rushed to his brother's side, offering assistance. His jaw clenched tightly as he directed his gaze towards the blonde. "Margret."
"One of many names," Liza quipped, her hand swishing dismissively as she turned her attention to Jezebel, who stared in disbelief at the sudden transformation.
"Christo." Jezebel blurted out and watched with shock at the hiss. The next time their eyes met, Liza's eyes were black as night. "Holy shit."
"There's nothing holy about it." Dean spat out. "Hothead, get the hell out of here—!"
"Mmmm, I don't think so." Liza interrupted and with flick of her hand. All the doors slammed shut and locked. "Now, Jezebel, child. The hoodie—"
Sam lunged forward and Dean wasn't far behind. They were almost within striking distance when a sudden force from the demon sent them hurtling backwards, crashing into opposite walls with harsh thuds. Jezebel took a step back and shielded herself from the flying debris.
Liza sauntered over to Dean with a disdainful tsk escaping her lips. Gripping him by the collar, she delivered a swift punch and another, which turned into double. Her chilling laugh filled the room with Dean's groans of misery.
"But this is nothing to you isn't it, Winchester?!" She mocked gleefully when Dean grabbed her wrist tightly. "Hell must have been so beautiful for you!" With each word she seemed to slam his head against the bookshelves behind him, sending books tumbling to the ground with a muffled thud as Dean groaned in agony.
In the blink of an eye, Liza had Sam by the throat, hurling him into the dining room table. As he struggled to shield his head, she seized his hair, relishing the hiss of pain as she kneed him in the gut.
"You should be losing it more than this," she hissed, pressing him down with a forearm against his throat. Ignoring any self-preservation, Liza ran her free arm across a jagged piece of broken chair, causing blood to drip into Sam's mouth. "Maybe this will help—"
"Get off my brother, you bitch!" Dean hollered as he tackled the demon and Liza tumbled off Sam with a gasp, leaving him to wheeze for breath as blood trickled down his throat, inducing a hacking cough. "I'll kill you—!"
It didn't take long for Liza to be on top of the man with both hands around his throat and staring down into his eyes with a grin so wide he could see her molars.
"Don't worry. After I kill you, I'll make sure Sammy is well fed and taken care of!" She giggled and payed extra attention to the way Dean's face pinched in rage filled pain. "Then I'll make sure Jezebel plays her part—!"
Crash!
The demon didn't let go of Dean initially. Instead, she just sighed and looked at the bloodied man with condescending regret. "I'm sorry, but I have to go deal with a, uh, pest." Jezebel raised the skateboard to strike the demon against the head once more.
"No..." Dean groaned, attempting to grab the demon's arm, but Liza's demon tossed him aside effortlessly, replacing her grip with a vice-like hold around Jezebel's throat. The demon squeezed, relishing in the gasps of shock that followed.
"Oh, Jezebel," it taunted with black eyes and encroaching darkness. "You always preferred the hard way. But then again, I did raise you, didn't I?"
"P-please, L-Liza." Jezebel tried to gasp out a reason and the demon frowned. She released the brunette who fell with a gasp. Liza's hands went to her head, her fingers pressing into her scalp as if she was trying to pry something out. She folded in on her self with a sharp intake of breath.
"No, no, no." The demon shouted to herself. "You are not welcomed here right now, you brat!" It grit its teeth, head twitching while it tried to remain in control, bracing itself against the wall for support.
"Leave... my sister... alone!" Liza suddenly screeched, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. Jezebel's heart leaped with a glimmer of hope as she watched the blonde tense up. For a fleeting moment, it seemed like the demon's grip was loosening.
The blonde went slack against the wall, and Jezebel cautiously approached, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder. "L-Liza?" she whispered, hope and fear mingling in her voice.
Liza took in a few gasps of breath, her chest rising and falling with the effort. Then, to Jezebel's horror, a smirk slowly spread across her lips.
"Guess again," the demon sneered, its grip tightening on Jezebel's hair as it dragged her into the kitchen, her screams echoing through the house. "Let's see... should we start with gluten and then work our way up to boiling water down the throat? Your father is rather creative with his punishments... Hm, actually, you're going to need your throat so maybe we start with a pinky?"
"No!"
Jezebel could see Sam panting and sweating, blood trailing down his chin as he fixed a glare onto the demon. Strangely, the demon didn't appear scared; instead, a wicked smile adorned her face, as if she were a mother watching her son at a baseball game.
"How beautiful—!"
Sam's hand shot up, and Liza's body convulsed with violent tremors. Fear gripping her heart, Jezebel forced herself to crawl away from the blonde and over to Dean in a panic. The man was breathing, albeit groggily, and Jezebel shook him, desperate for awareness.
"Dean? Dean?!" she demanded, her voice tinged with fear as she watched the unsettling scene unfolding before her. Sam was... different, unnaturally so, compared to the kind, optimistic man she knew. "Sam's... something's wrong, please wake up!"
Dean forced himself up at the mention of his brother and squinted at the black smoke coming from Liza's lips. "Sammy, no..." he muttered with clenched fists. "Sammy!"
"I-I have to do it Dean!"
"No you don't!" He barked back.
"Dean, please!"
"No!" Dean barked harshly and Sam flinched backwards. The smoke that had abandoned Liza quickly fled as soon as his held weakened and all they were left with was a bloodied silence, a passed out teen, and even more questions than before.
"Where are you two going?" Jezebel asked hesitantly.
Liza was taken care of quickly. Still asleep, Sam had placed her on the couch in the study, above the demon trap. Just in case.
And once they had cleaned up as best as they could, they were packing up in a usual partnered manner without even a word to each other. The privatized movement left Jezebel in the dark even more. Dean didn't even pause what he was doing.
"Your aunt texted us an SOS while we were in the basement—"
"You mean while you trapped me and basically tortured me in the basement?!" Jezebel snapped and took satisfaction in the cringe away. "Are we not... are we just gonna gloss over that?!"
"Jezebel—" Sam began, his usual attempt at offering reassurance interrupted by Jezebel's sharp retort as she fearfully backed away.
"Let go of me!" she snapped, her voice tinged with fear. Sam's hand fell from the air, his expression registering silent shock at her reaction. "That was... that was scary! You were— This was scary! I-I don't get scared easily, but—!"
"Look after your sister," Dean interrupted, his tone urgent as he swung his pack over his shoulder. Jezebel turned to him in shock, her eyes wide with disbelief, but Dean was already at the door. "Come on, Sammy."
"Dean..."
"Let's go!" Dean's voice was sharp, cutting through the tension.
"Just... that's it?!" Jezebel's voice cracked with desperation. "We almost die, and you're just leaving?! What if it comes back?"
Jezebel caught the pocket knife with a reflex honed from too many close calls, her fingers closing around the familiar silver handle. She looked up at Dean, confusion etched on her face. "That hoodie will keep you safe, and the entrances are all salted and an inch wide," Dean reported seriously from the doorway.
"But Liza—"
"Can't escape from the circle," Dean interjected, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"But..."
"We'll be back," Dean responded firmly, pointing at the salt line at the doorway. "You keep this line and all the others filled, don't open the door for anyone, and keep an eye on your sister."
"But—!"
Slam!
"Fuck you!"
Jezebel watched through the window as the black impala drove away to wherever the hell they needed to go. Her heart tugged as another person left her alone when she needed them most. But, she was used to this. She's survived this far and she had made up her mind. She entered the study carefully and walked over into the circle to stand next to her unconscious sister.
"I never hated you." Jezebel declared to no one while sitting across from the girl. "I just... hated that we were treated differently. But you still tried to protect me from people, from family, from myself... and even from a fuckin' demon."
Jezebel hesitated for a blink of an eye before she was shuffling off her hoodie with a decision firm in whatever would she might have left. Her eyes remained on the blonde.
"It's my turn to be the good sister."
Feeling a little less than usual, Jezebel walked into her parents home with a creak. The building was dark, silent, and empty. She had to fight the urge to call out a greeting in the empty home. Instead she closed the door behind her with a careful click and unconsciously rubbed at her exposed forearms. The bruises were still forming on her skin and the cuts were scabbed over with red irritation all over them.
With a deep breath, Jezebel opened the door to her bedroom and shut herself in it. The view of the chapel down the road sent familiar shivers down her spine, forming goosebumps to chill her skin.
But when she sat down on the old rocking chair that had managed to stay in fact for so many years she sighed. Her right hand ghosted the hand carved wood on the arm rest until she came across a familiar name etched into the antique furniture from its creator.
And she called to him.
A rustle of familiar feathers.