Trials with a Librarian
"How the fuck are we gonna kill a hell hound" Dean shakes his head.
"Never mind how we're gonna kill one, how are we gonna find one. The only time you see them is when they come for somebody to collect their soul." Sam shudders. I make a mental note to ask how he knows this.
"Simple, go to a crossroads, summon a demon, then tell it we won't let it out of the trap we've laid until it agrees to summon us a hound." Sam widens his eyes like Dean just had a brain tumor for breakfast.
"Don't be an idiot. The moment we let any demon summon a hellhound they won't summon one they'll summon 50 and they'll make sure to let Crowley know while they're doing it!"
Dean screws up his face the way he does when Sam is right. "OK then, smart guy, what's your bright idea?"
Sam scrubs a hand over his face "OK we need to find somebody who's deal is about to come due and-"
"And how the hell would we ever know that?"
"Research of course. We look online for somebody who had an impossible lucky break 10 years ago." Sam warms to his idea. "And you know how these things work, even if we don't catch it with the first person, the demon almost always hangs around to see if there are any other people who want to make a deal."
"Alright, that's not bad, I can get behind that idea."
"You've got to go back soon, don't you?" Sam whispers against my temple.
I close my eyes, trying to stay in this moment where I'm lying on top of him, our bodies glued together with sweat. "I've got responsibilities I can't let go for much longer. God said it would still be there when I came back, but I got the sense that the hiatus wouldn't go on forever."
He takes a deep breath, then lets it out, raising and lowering me like his body is a gentle wave. "I understand Baby, I just want…" He cuts off and his lips press together in a thin line.
"What?" I lift my chest with an almost audible tearing sound. He raises his arms and after I fold my arms over his chest, resting my chin on my hands, he wraps his arms around me again.
"This is the first time I've wanted something, well, normal, for a long time. I'm used to wanting to win against the bad guy or saving people when I make the big sacrifice, but the last time I wanted something like this, and had any chance of having it, was nearly a decade ago." His eyes are wide with that look he gets when he's trying not to cry.
"Me too. I love what I do, but I'm not eager to go back to my empty apartment when I know you're here." Closing my eyes, I swallow the sob that wants to escape.
Sam squeezes me tighter, then strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers. "It's okay B. I mean, don't get me wrong, it sucks right out loud, but you're safer in DC."
I jerk up to a sitting position. "You're agreeing to my going back because I'm safer?" I shake my head. "Oh no, there'll be none of that 'send her away to keep her safe' bullshit! Just because we're together doesn't mean you get to go all 17th century on me. I make my own choices."
He sits up and puts a hand on my stiff shoulder. "B, come on. I know you're smart and capable, but the fact is, Dean and I are going to do these trials, and at some point, Crowley's going to figure out what we're doing. Once that happens, there's nothing he won't do to stop us. My educated guess is that he knows the Trials exist, that the instructions are on the tablet, and that once Kevin tells us about said trials, we'll do them. I'm sure that's why he took Kevin in the first place. So, what do you think he'd do if he found out about you and me?"
The stiffness vanishes from my muscles, and nausea floods my stomach. My glass face must betray me because Sam clutches me to his chest. "It's ok, don't freak out. I've got you." I cling to him until the irony of acting like a 'weak little maiden' smacks me in the face.
"And here I was just telling you not to treat me like a fragile flower." I huff out a tremulous laugh.
He kisses my temple. "Being afraid of the king of hell doesn't make you any less of a badass. It's more like common sense."
"So, what's your plan?"
"We take you back to DC. By the time we get back to the bunker, Kevin will have some tips about how we're supposed to kill a hellhound, and information on the next trial. I'm hoping I can get Dean to wait until we know them all, so we can do them fast before Crowley's any the wiser. Once the gates are shut, that ends 90% of the threat of monsters that will actively come after us." He smiles, looking pleased. "Then you and I can go back and forth, meeting as often as our lives allow, until we can find a way to be together full time."
"Sounds great. Do you think there's a chance it will all go down like that?"
"No. I say maybe 15 percent, but while Dean wants to close the gates of hell, he NEEDS things to work out for the two of us. If I can get him on board with my plan, and Cas too, our odds go way up."
Hope sneaks into my heart, elbowing the fear aside. "You know, with my worldwide access to references, and the resources of the bunker, we can probably find every advantage that's out there."
"I don't want you to do a bunch of extra work that's going to take you away from your project…" He has the gall to make his innocent face - the one that's been getting Dean to do all sorts of stupid shit since Sam was still in diapers.
"Oh my God. I can't believe you actually had to go to hell to trap the devil. You should have just used those lethal puppy dog eyes on him, and he'd have folded like a house of cards."
He laughs his big, booming laugh, lifts me, and twists to lay me on my back. "I only use that power for good."
Since I'm reaching for the coffee pot, not in the midst of pouring, I avoid a nasty burn when the motel closet door starts rattling hard enough to shake the room. The guys are on their feet with weapons drawn in the time it takes me to stand. As the rattle ratchets up enough to mimic an earthquake, they form a wall in front of me. The door flies open with a blast of smoke and ozone, and a young man in a sharp blue suit falls out and onto his knees.
He looks between the brothers. "Which one of you is John Winchester?"
"Neither!" The guys say at the same time.
Blue suit's brows lower and he looks aside, his expression one that seems familiar to me, "No, that's impossible. What did I do wrong?"
"Who the hell are you mister?" Dean demands.
"Not now, I'm thinking."
That's not an answer you give Dean Winchester. He grabs the guy and shoves him against the wall, holding him in place with a bulging forearm. "When a dude from the previous century pops out of your closet asking questions about YOUR dad, you get to ask the questions! So, I'll ask again, who the hell are you!?"
The mulish expression that crosses the man's face mirrors the one on the man holding him up and flips the switch of recognition in my brain.
"Dean, Sam, don't hurt him, I know who this is!" All three faces turn to me while I look at our visitor. "That's Henry Winchester."
"Seriously?" Dean Asks. I don't miss the disappointment in his voice.
"Oh Shit." Sam hisses. "Dean, if that's Henry, Abaddon can't be far behind him."
"Shit." Dean echoes. He releases Henry and jerks the keys to the Impala out of his pocket and tosses them to me. "B, Sam and I'll get things ready in here, you get the stuff we need from the trunk."
"That's not possible! No one can follow that spell." Henry denies.
Dean and Sam ignore him, so Igrab his arm. "He can help me. Dean, what do you guys need?"
"Devil's trap ammo for each of our guns, it's marked, suppressors, an anti-possession charm for gramps here, and…Sammy, did you bring it?"
"Of course, I always bring it." He turns to me, "In the upper left corner there's a blue box with Arabic script on the lid, that's more important than anything else."
"Ok, blue box, ammo, suppressors, protection for Henry. Got it." He smiles and leans down to kiss me quickly before turning to take the salt canister Dean hands him.
I take Henry's arm, "Come on, we have to hurry." He looks between us, eyes wild, but follows me out, and we skid to a stop by the Impala.
"Who are you people - Holy smokes!" His exclamation is not unwarranted. I'm always a little taken aback at the sight of the Impala's open trunk. Glancing around to make sure no one heard us, I grab an empty bag and start adding in ammo.
"We're the people who are going to clean up the mess you left behind." I glance at him and take pity at his wide-eyed expression. "I'm B, the guys are Dean and Sam." I hand him a necklace with the anti-possession charm dangling from the cord. I choose a shotgun for myself; I doubt I'll need it, but I feel better with some sort of weapon. After Henry loops the cord around his neck, I hand him the bag and reach into the back for the box, tucking it under my arm before slamming the trunk. "Let's go."
Back in the room there's now a devil's trap rug in front of the closet, a ring of salt around that, all our bags are packed and by the door, and the guys have set up for a spellcasting on the room's small desk.
Dean looks up, "Oh good." He takes the bag from Henry and begins switching out ammo while I hand the box to Sam.
"Be sure to attach the suppressors, the parking lot is full of people."
"Wonderful. Next time will you let me pick the motel?" Dean asks me.
"Next time we'll decide together. I still refuse to share bed space with anything that has more than four appendages." I turn to watch Sam as he lifts the lid of the box with the tips of his fingers. Inside is what looks like the giant, fancy version of an egg timer. "That doesn't look like something you use against a super demon."
"It's not a weapon. It's a container. While Larry was still alive, we researched the hell out of Abaddon. This should contain something even as powerful as an archangel."
"Right." Dean says, "If your monster's unkillable don't try to kill it, lock it away."
I want to ask more questions but that's when the closet door begins to rattle again, and the room begins to shake. This time when the door pops open a tall redhead in a semi-formal 50's dress, who'd look like she was ready for a night of dinner and dancing if she wasn't covered in blood, bursts into the room.
"What an exhilarating experience that was! Henry, you really need to practice your spell work. You left that door wide open. Now give me the key and I promise to kill you and your friends quickly."
Sam's been chanting the entire time and now the volume of his voice rises as he slices open his palm and lets his blood pour into the bowl.
"Oh no, there'll be none of that my lad." She raises a hand and tries to take a step forward. "Really? A devil's trap? You think a painted rug is going to contain something like me?"
"Not for long." Dean answers. "But we figured it'd work long enough for Sammy to finish his spell."
Sam, trained from infancy to take his cues from Dean, says the last word of the spell and shouts, "Everyone down!" I pull Henry down with me as I drop to the floor. Sam twists the egg, and a pulse of energy blasts the room.
Abaddon screams in furious denial as a sucking wind drags her forward. She twists and shakes her head in rage as her eyes flick to full black.
I can do nothing but try to hold onto the floor. Every bad thought or feeling I've ever had tries to drag me towards the container. Dean, on his knees, grabs onto the room divider while Sam shudders as he holds the egg in place with everything he has and repeats the last line of the spell.
The demon can no longer hold out. When she opens her mouth to scream again, black smoke shot through with miniature bolts of lightning and tinged with red pours forth from her wide-open jaws and the container sucks it in. The body drops to the floor as the rest of us try to get our breath back.
Sam drops the container into the box and falls to his knees, his hands spasm as they turn red and blister where he touched the egg. Dean scrambles to Sam's side, slamming the lid on the box before taking Sam's hands in his.
"B, grab the first aid kit out of my bag, will you?"
I climb shakily to my feet and stumble to where Dean's bag sits by the door. The first aid kit is in the compartment designed for it. Everything else is hyper-organized according to the duffle's design, and I make a mental note to raz Dean about it at the first opportunity. Holding the box open, I kneel beside Dean so I can assist him.
"Thanks B." He uses the gentlest of touches to spread ointment over Sam's fingers and the cut on his palm. When he moves on to bandages his hands are rock steady and he places them with care. I hide a smile at the big brother-ness of the moment.
The whisper of a cough draws all of our attention away to where Henry is cradling Josie - who is still alive.
"Henry, I'm sorry, I tried to fight her, but she was-" She coughs again and blood bubbles up and runs from the corner of her mouth.
"Don't try to talk." Henry pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes the corner of her mouth. "We're in the future, we'll find a doctor who will fix you up in no time."
The woman shakes her head, "No. She-I, there's too much damage." Josie looks at the three of us. "Who a-are…?"
She doesn't have much time, so I hurry to her side, taking her free hand. "We're Men of Letters. I'm B, that's Sam and Dean, Henry's grandsons."
Josie smiles and closes her eyes, laying back against Henry. "She failed then? Abaddon? She didn't destroy us?"
"No, you and Henry stopped her. We'll remember you forever as the first Woman of Letters."
She nods and opens her eyes, "Thank you for freeing me." Pulling her hand free she uses it to cup Henry's face. "Goodbye my love." Her hand goes slack and falls to her side as a last breath sighs from her lips.