Chapter 9 - Not a Monologue

Madison had survived the first time on sheer luck. This time, she and Dean were armed and ready.

Madison wasn't a hunter, but she had done enough research on demons to have come across a fair amount of intel on monsters as well, and she had practiced shooting and self-defense. One thing she had learned about monsters was that they didn't coordinate their attacks well. They had a tendency to attack one or two at a time, giving hunters a chance to fight their way out.

But these werewolves were different. They almost seemed trained, practiced. They all swarmed at once.

Madison shot the first one to reach her, right in the heart. The second one collided with her, grabbing her shoulders and knocking her hard to the ground, its claws sinking into her flesh. Her gun pressed against her chest, and then the werewolf's body jolted—Dean must have shot it from behind.

The monster's grip loosened, and she jumped to her feet, shooting at the next two monsters that got close. Their hair and claws retracted as they fell, leaving naked, bloody human corpses behind. Gray-green spider veins radiated outward from the bullet holes.

The silver kryptonite bullets didn't just kill the werewolves. They turned them back to the human form.

Madison didn't have time to be horrified. She shot two more monsters before one managed to grab the gun from her, throwing it away in the distance. She punched it in the throat, and it fell back, but another grabbed her, throwing her to the hard ground once again.

She kicked and punched blindly, and the attacking werewolf backed off, but two took its place. One pinned her arms, and the other had its fangs at her throat—

With all her strength, she slammed her head forward, her forehead hitting the werewolf's temple. It fell back for just long enough for her to see Dean, pinned to the ground next to her.

There were too many of them. They weren't going to be able to fight this. This was it.

Maybe they had bought the others some time. Or maybe the army would take it down everyone else just as easily, Chloe and Clark and Sam and . . . Lex . . .

A new heat rose in Madison's chest. She was not going to die here. She was not going to let the others die. She hadn't come this far for that.

She strained with all her might against the claws that held her down, but she couldn't budge. Another werewolf had grabbed her legs; another raised his claws, ready to strike, to tear her heart out.

A scream ripped its way from her throat, louder and raspier than she could ever remember sounding. The heat in her veins had risen, higher than any fever she'd ever had.

And then she began to turn.

Lex kept his head high, despite the entourage of demon guards pointing guns at him. It was what he had been taught. If he survived, he would show his fear later, when the dust settled. More than likely, he would sweat and shake, and nightmares would haunt him for days or weeks. But for now, he showed no signs of intimidation.

He couldn't quite say the same for Sam, who was already sweating bullets.

The guards led them into a well-furnished study, not unlike the one where Lex had spent most of his time when he lived in the mansion in Smallville. Two men stood side-by-side, waiting for them. One of them, predictably, was his father. The other was slightly older, a little taller, and his hair was shorter. By the looks on their faces, it would have been impossible to tell which was a demon and which was human, if it weren't for the fact that the other man had glowing yellow eyes.

No sooner had they entered the room than they were thrown against the wall. Lex's composure broke for a half second as his back slammed hard into the stone, but he cleared his throat and set his jaw, keeping his eyes on his father.

"Lex, how nice to see you. We never visit."

"Sam Winchester," the other man said. "Good to see you again."

Lex cleared his throat. Whatever force was pressing him against the wall seemed to be pressing the air out of his lungs as well, and it took effort to pull in his breath. "Save the pleasantries. What's the scheme this time?"

"What are you expecting, Lex? A monologue where I reveal all of my—" his father chuckled— "evil plans?"

"You never were one to resist a lecture."

"I dare say you've outgrown that. Now, I'm sure you did your homework before coming here, just as I've done mine. You tell me, Lex."

Lex looked down, his mind racing. His father might not have been telling him everything, but he was offering something just as valuable—confirmation of what Lex knew.

Lex wasn't passing up that opportunity.

His eyes snapped up to meet his father's. "People who discover the supernatural have one of a few reactions."

"Is that so?"

"Denial is common, though it doesn't last long through a first-hand encounter. Panic. Fear. All stages on the way to acceptance. Most learn to prepare, do the research and protect their families and loved ones."

Lex's father kept his eyes on him, but he could feel the demons staring at him as well.

"Some go a step further. It usually happens after a loss. They become hunters. It's an honorable lifestyle, even if hunters don't live very long." Lex couldn't resist taking a glance at Sam, who seemed to be struggling to breathe.

"Is that what you fancy yourself, Lex? A hunter?"

"I'm more of a researcher myself. But this isn't about me. You made a different choice. You discovered the supernatural, and you thought, what could I stand to gain from all this?"

His father smiled. It was the smile that always terrified Lex. The smile of a predator toying with its prey.

"Most of the time, they get themselves killed a lot faster than hunters do. But not you, Dad. You're a whole different breed."

Lex wasn't sure how much detail to go into. His father had always warned him against showing all of his cards. Then again, he hadn't been able to do anything to stop any of his father's supernatural activities so far. Lex had everything to gain and nothing to lose by allowing his father to confirm and deny, through facial expressions, everything Lex thought he knew.

He started from the beginning. "I don't know when you found out about the supernatural," he began. "I would have to guess you happened upon the signs left behind in the mansion after my stint on the island. I know that you wouldn't have gotten far with money alone. Human souls are the currency of the demon world, and no amount of money will buy them."

His father almost looked proud of him.

Lex pulled in a breath with difficulty. "If I had to guess, I would say you started with witches. Some of them will work for money, and you did your homework, so you wouldn't be stabbed in the back. Spell work would have bought you access to supernatural artifacts and hex bags. I know you had hunters working for you, for a while. You lured them to your mansion, tested them, filtered out anyone who was too smart or not smart enough. You gave them weapons in exchange for human souls, captured by crystals—fashioned, I assume, by witches. So you won the hunters' loyalty."

"Hunters." The demon shook his head.

"A crude army, I confess, but effective for a time," Lex's father said with a gleam in his eye.

Lex grimaced as the wall pressed harder into his back. "You—" He cleared his throat. "You managed well enough to employ a few demons. You've been infecting them with meteor rock."

The slightest waver in his father's gaze told him that he was wrong about that. So somebody else was infecting them.

The rest, he hadn't quite figured out yet. He began piecing it together. "You're . . . working with this demon now," he said. "You've developed a serum that allows people to convene with the dead. You've been luring people here, getting them addicted to it, and securing the services."

If the look on his father's face was anything to go by, he had gotten that one correct.

"But demons weren't cutting it for security. Too easy to exorcize. I'm guessing that's why you picked up the werewolves."

"I'd have much preferred hell hounds, if you want the truth."

"Hell hounds are more trouble than they're worth," the demon said.

"Loyal to the death, and it takes a lot more than one of those silver and meteor bullets to take them out."

"They wouldn't bond to you. You're a human."

"Perhaps with a bit of persuasion." His father turned back to Lex. "I imagine by now, you know all about hell hounds."

Lex tried not to let the surprise show in his face. Of course, his father would have found out about his deal. He focused on the topic at hand, hoping Sam hadn't caught the implication. "So far, you've had to keep your activities on the wraps. But with us out of the way, you'll be free to carry out whatever plans you have. I assume it involves amassing more power. The ultimate end to all of that power . . . well, that was never your style, was it? Power for power's sake is more your speed."

His father clapped, slowly and dramatically. "Well done, Lex. Very well done."

"So I was right." It was a question, but he didn't allow it to sound like one.

"Well, in all points but one."

"What's that?"

"I didn't bring you here to kill you, son."

He snapped his fingers. One of the demon guards went to a cabinet and opened it to reveal a refrigerated box. He took out a syringe, and he brought it over to Lex's father.

Lex's veins turned to ice.

"No, no." His father grinned. "I brought you here to employ you."

Lex struggled against whatever force was holding him to the wall.

"Word has it . . . how long has he got, Azazel?"

"Crowley offered him two years. His time's half up," Azazel sneered. "Your son's not much of a negotiator, is he, Lionel?"

"I'm afraid I failed him in quite a few areas."

"Wait, what?" Sam was suddenly alert. "Crowley? Lex . . . you made a deal?"

Lex couldn't have that conversation now. His father's face was a few inches from his, and he was pushing Lex's head aside, holding the needle to his neck.

"Get away from him!" Sam yelled, but he couldn't do anything. Neither of them could.

A strong pinch at his neck, a burning in his throat, and the world went black.

"Clark!"

Chloe had tried everything. The first thing she had done was to text everybody on their team. Since then, she had cleared all of the kryptonite from the area, waved away the fumes from the hex bag, and poured water over Clark's sleeping form. She had even tried slapping him, though she knew she was risking breaking her hand—it had felt the same as slapping anybody else, which was even more concerning. Clark was breathing, and he had a pulse, though it was weak, so she knew he was alive. She just couldn't get him to wake up.

The gunfire had stopped. She didn't know whether that was good news or bad. The shots had sounded like the guns they had brought, but she didn't know whether the others had just killed all of the guards, or if…

She didn't want to think about that.

One way or another, with Clark down, she didn't have back up anymore. Lex had taught her how to shoot, and he had taught her some basic self defense, but she was only one person. There wasn't much she could do against an army of werewolves, and her bullets would be useless against demons. She did have a few explosives with her, in the pockets of her cargo pants, but if she encountered demons, she was pretty sure the explosions would only harm the hosts, and she wouldn't be able to aim them well enough to take out many werewolves. Madison had said there were a lot of them.

Chloe checked her messages to see if anybody had texted back. According to her phone, nobody had even seen the message.

She paced beside Clark's fallen body, her heart pounding. She couldn't go after the demon guards, the werewolf army, or Lionel and that boss demon. She would be killed instantly. But if nobody else was responding to her, that meant they had probably encountered their enemies.

Maybe her allies were creating enough of a distraction that Chloe could go after the serum directly.

She had to try. She couldn't just sit here. She scrolled on her phone until she found what she was looking for: the map Lex had sent her. He had had a couple of guesses as to where the storehouses would be.

Chloe looked down at Clark. She didn't want to leave him. But she couldn't defend him by staying with him, and in the meantime, she had the chance to do something, to make sure this mission wasn't a total failure.

She checked the map one more time, and she began to run, keeping a wide distance from the building as she did, darting behind trees as often as she could.

She found the warehouse easily enough, though she kept enough distance that she wouldn't be seen. It was guarded by a couple of men. She couldn't tell just by looking what they were—demons? Werewolves? Or just people?

Probably werewolves. Most of the guards here were.

She held her gun at the ready, aimed, put her finger on the trigger...

And she couldn't do it.

Shooting practice was one thing. But she had never killed before. She tried to tell herself that they were monsters, and that even if she was wrong and they happened to be human, they were working for monsters. They would probably kill her without a second of hesitation.

It didn't matter. She groaned and lowered her gun.

She decided to try something different. She aimed at a tree in front of her, and she pulled the trigger.

The guards were instantly alert. One of them left his post and ran in her direction.

She didn't run away, and she didn't run toward the building. She ran off to the side, so he would miss her.

For a moment, Chloe lost sight of the entrance to the warehouse. When it was back in view, she couldn't see any guards at all. Maybe the second one had run to help the first.

She wasn't missing her opportunity. She ran right up to the door and began working on the lock. That was another thing Lex had made her learn how to do—he had drilled her in lockpicking until she could beat his records.

Chloe closed the door behind her as silently as she could, and she had to catch her breath.

It was exactly what she would expect from a chemical refinery. Boxy machinery with dials and gauges, computers with graphs and data tables, and huge glass columns of green liquid. She was glad she hadn't taken Clark here.

She began to pull out her explosives, strategically placing them near the columns, and then she stepped back, the trigger button in her hand.

The walls of glass shattering, the rushing green waterfalls, the fire, the sparking computers . . . it was all every bit as satisfying as she could've hoped for.

Until cold metal pressed against her temple, and she heard a click.