Season Three

Episode Twenty-Two: The Art of Dying

By Kittsbud & Tree

Part Four

It took several minutes for the dust to settle and the deafening echo of the brief battle to finally subside. It was only minutes, but to Sam, it felt like hours. It happened so quickly, one second he was charging into a room full of demons and then the next, the entire place was leveled like a bomb had gone off.

I went off… Sam ruefully admitted.

Around him, mounds of debris, broken pieces of furniture and even an occasional body part, lay strewn. He’d seen pictures of grenades going off in small rooms that were less graphic than the scene before him.

He pushed away from the wall, his legs feeling wobbly, his heart pounding within his chest, the recent feeling of overwhelming heat gone now and replaced with a bone-deep chill. His body felt weak, as though all the energy that had just coursed through it had left a massive void in its wake. And his mind… his mind was scrambling, his inner voice screaming questions, demanding answers.

What happened? How did you do this? How could you do this?

Before, he’d always managed to control it, his powers, this bizarre ability to reflect supernatural energy. It wasn’t like this was the first times he’d, “amped-out,” certainly both in Leicester and even what he’d managed to pull off back in Fort Worth hadn’t exactly been mental flinches. But lately, since the deal with Gudrun, and now this… These were far greater exhibitions of his freakish talent. Something was different and Sam couldn’t chase away the feeling that the “something” was him.

Shaking his head in an attempt to dispel the disquieting voices, the young hunter staggered forward amid the ruins of the room. Tentatively, he pushed aside the rubble, each time sucking in a hesitant breath as he feared what he might find underneath.

Somewhere amid the wreckage was his brother, tossed around like a piece of refuse when Sam blew the place apart. He had to believe Dean was okay, even though each step seemed to reveal more blood and body parts and less hope of finding his brother alive.

“DEAN!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, fear and desperation filling him, guilt rising above the panic to choke him.

He’s dead… you did this… the inner voice assailed him.

There was no denying it, the scene around him was stark confirmation of what he’d been fearing since the diner. He was changing… had changed, and whatever reason he’d been chosen to endure these strange abilities, right now he despised bearing the name Winchester.

Stepping over the torso of the once-possessed teen, he cringed as his eyes took in the crushed body. This had been someone’s son, someone’s brother, and even though the poor kid had obviously been under the control of the demon possessing him, there had still been a chance that he might have been saved if they could have exorcised the hellspawn. But there was no chance of that now…

Seeing the dead young man only spurred Sam on to find Dean. Clinging fervently to the hope that his brother had not met a similar fate at his hand, he tossed aside an overturned chair with a strength born of desperation.

“DEAN!” he shouted out again, pausing briefly to listen for a response.

When his call was only returned by silence, Sam tore through the rest of the living room, scrambling over the debris-cluttered floor as he sought his brother. Near the far wall, he spotted an overturned hutch leaning precariously against the ornate wainscoting. Hope filled him, his mind issuing a silent prayer that Dean was okay beneath the listing cabinet.

Vaulting over the remainder of the furniture, not caring that his stocking feet were being abused by the sharp pieces of glass and broken wood beneath them, Sam raced across the room, desperate to find some evidence of his brother.

With a grunt, he pulled the large oak piece over, fearing that instead of protection perhaps the heavy furniture might have crushed Dean underneath its massive weight. Instead, he found a bloody hand sticking out from beneath a blanket of colorful broken glass.

Dean was a mess; covered in multihued shards of shattered china, the older man looked like a piece of modern art gone wrong. Blood welled from dozens of small cuts and a large bruise was already turning a vibrant shade of red-purple underneath a rising knot on the unconscious man’s temple.

“Dean? Come on, dude… please…” Sam pleaded as his fingers felt the bounding pulse at his brother’s carotid.

His brother didn’t move at first, making Sam all the more concerned as he carefully brushed away the broken glass. Still, Dean was alive, which in itself was an acceptable starting point in Sam’s mind. He continued his methodic uncovering, his hands seeking out the presence of fractured bones or other deformities on his brother’s body while all the time his mind worked overtime on condemning himself for what had happened.

“Dean! Hang on… hang on…” he shouted with encouragement, carefully pulling a larger shard from where it rested, precariously aimed toward his brother’s neck.

Stubbornly remaining unconscious, Dean was so still Sam began to worry there might be more severe underlying injuries than the myriad of lacerations scoring his brother’s body.

He was about to pull Dean upright when the rock tones of his brother’s cell began to sound.

Later, Sam wouldn’t be able to say what possessed him to pull the phone from his brother’s pocket, especially since Dean was lying there before him, bloody and unconscious. But at the time, something just told him to answer it.

Looking down at the screen, he spotted his dad’s name come up on the display. Breathing a quick sigh of relief, Sam punched the answer button, his voice eagerly calling out to his father.

“Dad? Oh man, thank God you called,” he quickly rambled.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Sammy, but Daddy can’t come to the phone right now.”

“Mia!” Sam snarled. “What the hell do you want?”

“Well, I want to speak with your brother. Where’s Dean, Sam?” the demon demanded.

“He can’t come to the phone right now either,” the hunter mimicked sarcastically.

“Awww, I’m hurt. He doesn’t want to talk to me? And after everything we’ve shared.”

“Again, what do you want, Mia?”

“Put your brother on NOW,” she screamed.

“No!”

She laughed in his ear, the sound more devious than humor-filled. “Now, Sammy, it’s not like you to be the obstinate one. What’s the matter? Is Dean shacked up with some blonde, brainless bimbo? You can tell me, I won’t be offended. I totally understand that after me, all other women pale by comparison.”

“After you, I’m sure sleeping with a bloodsucking vampire with herpes would be preferable… by comparison,” Sam returned.

“Oooh! Wow, Sammy. You’ve been taking lessons from Dean on being a smartass? Such nasty snark. I’m sure he’s proud. But cut the crap, where is he? Don’t tell me something’s happened to him. I’d sure hate to miss out on the Winchester hat-trick after being a third of the way there,” she insinuated.

“Dad?”

She laughed again. “Well, aren’t you the bright one?”

“Is he alive?” he asked quietly, further questions silenced as Dean groaned beside him.

Glancing down, he watched as his brother struggled back to consciousness, glazed hazel eyes fighting for focus. Sam pressed his free hand against Dean’s chest in an attempt to keep his brother still as he continued to listen.

“Well, I’d love to torture you some more and tell you that I’ve torn him into tiny little pieces and scattered him across four states, but the truth is I’d much rather let you suffer through all the awful mental images that you can dream up by telling you that he’s still alive and in my care,” she taunted.

“Where is he? What do you want?”

“Want? I want what I’ve always wanted you idiot. Revenge… how much more obvious can that be?”

“Saaammm?” Dean called out hoarsely from beside him.

The young hunter tried to mask the look of worry from his face, but he could feel the color drain from him as Mia continued.

“I’m gonna put an end to your entire family, Sammy. Starting with your dad and then finishing with you and your brother. You’re gonna die screaming, bleeding, begging for your lives, just like Johnny’s been doing for the past coupla days.”

“Where’s my dad?” Sam shouted.

Next to him, Dean fought against him and rose up on one elbow. He was conscious now, albeit still wavering slightly. He grabbed at Sam’s arm, tugging at the loose sleeve as his eyes begged for information.

“Oh, don’t worry, Sammy. I’m gonna reunite you one last time before I finish with my plans.”

“Where?” he asked calmly, despite the slight tremor in his voice.

“Well, since things didn’t work out the way I wanted back at my old home, I was thinking that maybe we could settle things up at yours,” Mia told him.

“Lawrence?” Sam asked, watching as Dean twitched in reaction.

“DUH! And to think you’re supposed to be the smart one. Look Einstein, if you can manage to find your brother, be here by midnight tomorrow or the party’s starting without you.”

She hung up without a further taunt or insult, leaving Sam sitting in stunned silence.

“Sammy?” Dean called out. “What the hell is going on? Who was that?”

He closed the cell and turned to look at his brother, momentarily relieved that Dean’s questions didn’t include asking about what had just happened with the demons.

“It was Mia,” he answered simply. “We gotta go, NOW!”

“Mia?”

“That’s what I said, Dean.”

His brother pulled himself upright with a barely contained groan. Sam was immediately there, hands tilting Dean’s head to the side as he surveyed the damage.

“I’m gonna kill that bitch,” Dean snarled, slapping away Sam’s hand and moving to search through the rubble for lost weapons. “Is she coming here? Does she know where we are?”

“She has Dad.”

Sam watched Dean’s movement grind to a sudden halt, his brother’s eyes going wide as he absorbed those words.

“Where?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

“Lawrence…”

Sam saw Dean react again at the mention of their hometown. He knew how much it hurt his brother to even talk about the place, much less consider revisiting somewhere that held so many painful memories. He remembered the look of agony, the internal struggle that Dean battled the last time they’d gone home.

He supposed that Palo Alto was no different for him. He didn’t think he could return to Stanford again if his life depended on it. Even though the memories of Jess had dimmed slightly, when he closed his eyes, he could still see her beautiful face, and he could still hear her terrified screams.

“Why there?” Dean asked finally, his voice betraying the underlying turmoil. “Why the hell is she going there?”

“I dunno, Dean. But she has Dad, and she said we had to be there by midnight tomorrow,” Sam replied.

He watched as Dean looked around the remains of the room. He was waiting, expecting, his brother to demand answers about what he’d done there. Blood, body parts and even the intact remains of one or two of the demons inevitably required an explanation. Yet he wasn’t sure what explanation, if any, he could offer.

Dean kicked aside the broken coffee table with a pained hiss and a barely disguised wince retrieving his .45 before tossing one of the shotguns at his brother. Sam plucked it deftly out of the air, still stunned that his brother was standing upright, much less moving about with such determination.

“Dean, about…”

“Grab your crap, Sammy. We gotta get going,” the older sibling interrupted.

His brother spun around, their eyes momentarily meeting, and for the briefest second, Sam thought he saw… fear, loathing, or at least something more than just the normal determination or brotherly camaraderie that usually filled the hazel eyes that stared back.

He bit back another attempt at offering an explanation buried within an apology when it became apparent that Dean was heading for the car. Staring down at his bare feet, Sam rushed back up the staircase to retrieve the remainder of his discarded clothing and belongings. Reaching the top, he paused for a second and glanced down over the banister.

The destroyed living room looked even worse from this vantage point, the destruction even more accusing than it had been when he was amidst it.

He’d done this… there was no denying it.

“SAM! Get your ass moving,” Dean shouted, shouldering his own duffle as he limped toward the front door.

Sam nodded before turning back toward the bathroom and forcing himself to look away from the scene below. Even then, the images remained burned into his mind.

***

As the crow flies, it didn’t seem like a long distance from Nevada to Lawrence, but then, the Impala was hardly a crow. So instead, Dean used the darkness and relative emptiness of Interstate 70 to eat up the thirteen hundred mile trip. To suggest that he was exceeding the posted speed limit was like saying that the members of KISS wore a little makeup.

They made it to the eastern side of Utah submerged in silence, the gravity of the situation forcing them into familiar introspection. It had always been this way, Dean realized. When they’d been searching for their dad back in Missouri or even when they’d been driving to the hospital in Springfield, any time the circumstances surrounded their dad being in danger, the resulting mood was usually morose.

Despite being one of the world’s best brooders, second often only to the taller man seated beside him, Dean wasn’t one that could stay silent for long. And even though his mind was solidly focused on finding Dad and dishing out some much-deserved payback to Mia, he couldn’t help reflect on the night’s “other” events.

Taking a sip from the cooling cup of coffee purchased an hour earlier, Dean let the beverage’s rush of caffeine assault his fatigued mind. It didn’t exactly ease all the questions that were burning at the edges of his brain, but it at least allowed him to focus more on the road ahead of him.

A stolen glance to his right revealed Sam sitting there sullenly, his brother’s gaze fixed out the side window as though he were absorbed in the passing scenery. It might have been believable if it wasn’t pitch black outside, and if Dean didn’t know Sam better.

Next to Dean, Sam was the runner-up when it came to committing mental cannibalism; once seated at the table of guilt, he wouldn’t leave until he’d eaten himself up over whatever was bothering him. And Dean was pretty sure he knew what was bothering his baby brother: it was the same thing that was nagging at the back of his own mind.

“See anything interesting?” he asked with a soft chuckle.

Sam didn’t reply.

Dean softly sighed. This was going to be tough.

“Any chance you wanna tell me what happened back at that house?” he asked.

Sam shuddered.

Way to go, Winchester. Nothing like hitting him over the head… full frontal assault… Dean silently chastised himself.

“Dean… I’m sorry,” Sam croaked, his gaze still fixed out the passenger’s side window.

“Sorry for what?”

“I nearly… I… I could’ve killed you back there,” the younger man admitted.

Dean laughed. “Nah, dude, when are you going to realize I don’t break that easily?” he joked.

“Have you looked in the mirror?” Sam asked, turning to face Dean. “You might not be broken, but you’re a damn sight bruised.”

“A few scratches, that’s all. I got worse off that frisky truck stop waitress outside of Shreveport.”

“This is serious, Dean. Didn’t you see what I did back there?”

“Well, actually… not the whole thing. I mean, one minute I was kicking demon-ass and the next… well… I think Hurricane Sammy struck ground in the living room,” Dean teased. “I don’t remember much after that. Care to fill me in?”

Sam sucked in a deep breath and rubbed the side of his head. “I’m not entirely sure myself,” he replied.

“Not sure?”

“No. I mean, it wasn’t like before. I heard the commotion as I was coming out of the shower and then I saw those demons taking you down.”

“They weren’t taking me down, it was all part of my plan…”

“And the next thing I knew… all I could feel… was like this surge of power rushing through me…”

“But that’s happened before… right? When you mirrored other people’s powers, it was like that?” Dean asked, his tone more serious.

“No. This was… different.”

“Different how?”

“Overwhelming… and dark…” Sam confessed.

Dean remained quiet, unsure of what to say next. Memories of his brother’s eyes filling with black as Sam stood at the edge of the living room replayed in his head. It was the last thing he remembered, before everything else went dark too.

“So...” he began tentatively. “You were mirroring all three demons at once. That’s bound to cause a bit of an overload.”

“Maybe, but Dean, I can’t quit thinking about Leicester.”

“What does that have to do with this? Not like this was the first time you did your whole Professor Xavier thing,” Dean reminded him.

“Dude, think about it. I went up against Lucifer himself back in Massachusetts. Don’t you think that two or three run of the mill demons should have paled by comparison to their boss?”

“You’re thinking too much about all this, Sammy. You’re making too much out of what happened.”

“Dean, I almost killed you. I did kill that poor kid. I don’t think that’s overreacting,” Sam cried out. “Something’s wrong with me…”

“You’re tired, hell, we’re both exhausted. It’s been nearly non-stop for us since we finished that gig up in Seattle. And face it, everything that happened with Gudrun, maybe you’re just coming down from a psychic high or something,” Dean suggested.

“This isn’t an acid trip, Dean. I was out of control. Don’t you see that?”

Dean did, he just didn’t want to admit that to his already freaked out brother.

“Like I said, we’re both beat, and beat up. Maybe you were just too tired to control it this time,” he adamantly maintained. “You’ve told me before that it was always strongest when you were reacting to me being in danger.”

“Yeah. And this was no different. I saw those demons, saw them going after you, but I never even got the chance to just jump into the fight. It was like I just went into immediate overload. And this wasn’t the first time either, Dean.”

Dean chanced a long look over at his brother, his level of concern spiking when he spotted Sam’s head drop down as he began toying with a frayed edge of his shirt.

“What are you talking about?”

He could hear Sam swallow hard before speaking.

“Back at the diner, right before the kitchen went up in flames, I had the same feeling. I thought at first I just wasn’t feeling good, but then it got worse, and the feeling got stronger. You know what happened next.”

“Sammy, that wasn’t you,” Dean said simply, steadfastly keeping his eyes on the road ahead for fear that they would betray him even within the darkness that enveloped the Impala.

“Yeah, right…”

“Come on, dude. Think about it. Those demons were probably there at the diner the whole time, following us. They probably trailed us back to that house.”

“The diner was practically empty dude…”

“Well, what if it there was another of the psychic kids like you in there? Maybe one that didn’t even know what they could do, like that Nathan guy.”

“Yeah… maybe,” Sam slowly agreed. “But what if it’s more that I’m becoming like Nathan? Dude, you told me back then that you were afraid that I might become like him,” Sam reminded him.

“That’s not what I said at all. I told you I was afraid of what all this was gonna do to you. Look, Sam, whatever’s going on, you can’t let it get to you,” Dean pleaded.

“Sure… don’t let it get to me that I could have just as easily killed you as I did that kid tonight.”

“Sam…”

“It’s true, Dean and you know it. What if… what if the next time it’s worse? You can’t tell me you weren’t freaked by what you saw me do tonight. I saw the look on your face,” his brother stated in a flurry of words.

Dean shook his head. “Sammy, you said it yourself. These powers of yours always seem to kick in whenever I’m in trouble. I don’t believe for one minute that you would hurt me with them. Hell, if it weren’t for you kicking in the psychic afterburners, my ass would have been toast a few times over.”

The Chevy plunged into silence once more as Sam seemed to consider Dean’s words. Either that or he’d sunk back into his self-torture, Dean could never tell the difference. Sullen Sam wasn’t grossly different than the guilty version.

Dean gripped the wheel tightly, wishing he could find the words to make his brother feel better about everything. The problem was, he first needed to find the words to make himself feel better about what had happened.

Deep down, he knew Sam had been right. When he saw his brother appear at the edge of the room, Dean had to admit he was relieved. The demons were honestly getting the better of him, despite his best attempt to open up a can whoop-ass on their hides.

Yet as he waited for Sam to enter the fray, his brother had remained oddly frozen in place. And then Dean saw it, Sam’s eyes, glazing over as black as the demons’ surrounding him. He honestly wasn’t sure at that point if his brother was going to lend a hand or join the hellspawn in their attack. He was certain that the look on his face at that moment had betrayed him. Caught off-guard, he hadn’t the chance to carefully mask the shock and fear that was raging through him.

And Sam had seen that. Sam thought he was afraid of him. And knowing Sam, his baby brother probably thought Dean despised him.

He let go of the steering wheel with his left hand to rub at the back of his neck. It was an unconscious move signifying nothing more than fatigue, but Sam spotted it.

“You okay?” the younger man asked worriedly.

“Yeah, Sammy. I’m just tired. Hell, dude, we’re not burning the candle at both ends, we’ve tossed the bitch straight into the fire lately,” he joked.

Sam chuckled and Dean returned a weak smile, satisfied that he could still lighten his brother’s mood.

“Speaking of bitches,” Sam interjected.

“Mia?” Dean asked.

“Do we know anyone worse?”

Dean shook his head slowly, accepting the “guilt baton” from his brother at the mention of the hybrid-demon’s name.

“What are we gonna do about her, Dean?”

“Kill her,” the older hunter answered dispassionately.

Sam huffed air. “Yeah, ’cause we fared so well against her the last time. She basically handed us our asses on a silver platter.”

Which wouldn’t have happened if it hadn’t been for me… Dean added silently.

Crimping his eyes tightly closed for a split second, he reopened them to look at the dark highway before him. It wasn’t much different than that night; the night he’d left Sam by the road, alone and unprotected.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, the loud thud of the Impala striking a pothole in the asphalt flooded him with the memory of hearing Sam’s body being struck by the speeding truck as Mia laughed sadistically and Dean remained trapped and powerless within the Chevy’s trunk.

Next to the memory of his mother’s screams that fateful night, no other sound remained so brutally vivid in the recesses of his mind.

Sam being so worried about “almost” killing him with his abilities was nothing compared to the guilt Dean still carried for what had happened that night. He’d chosen Mia over Sam, and while his brother had repeatedly assured him that he didn’t hold it against him, Dean knew his own absolution would take a lifetime to achieve.

He’d never put Sam in that position again…

NEVER!

It was then that it occurred to him what he needed to do. Slamming his foot down on the brake pedal, the heavy Impala screeched to a halt, her rear end sliding slightly as Dean pulled over onto the loose gravel on the side of the road.

He threw the car into park and turned to face his brother.

“Dean! What’s wrong?” Sam asked in a panic.

“Get out, Sammy,” Dean coldly ordered.

“Huh? Why?”

“You’re not coming with me.”

“And why the hell not?” Sam demanded.

“We don’t both need to go,” Dean answered.

“Which translated from ‘Deanese’ means that you don’t want me to get hurt.”

“Take it any way you want, but I’m going to Lawrence alone.”

Sam grumbled and slammed his fist against the dashboard. “NO! No way,” he shouted back in refusal.

“It’s not open for debate, Sam. If this goes bad, and we both basically agree that it probably will, then no way am I serving you up for that bitch ever again.”

“You can’t go up against Mia alone. She’s too strong.”

“I’ll have Dad…”

“Dad may already be dead.”

“Then I won’t have to worry about protecting anyone but myself.”

“So you can be reckless? Then that’s all the more reason you can’t go after her alone,” Sam insisted. “You need me.”

“I need you to be safe. Sam, I can’t…” Dean paused, sucking in a shuddering breath. “I just can’t let you…”

He looked away, unable to voice the remainder of the sentiment.

“You’re a hypocrite, Dean,” Sam announced. “You just spent the last half hour trying to tell me that you weren’t bothered by what happened tonight, that you weren’t freaked out by what I did. And now, now you don’t want me with you because you think I might overload…”

“That’s not what I meant at all,” Dean shouted back. “Sam… I can’t let her hurt you again. Don’t you understand that she nearly killed you last time and all because of what I did? You’re so worried about me dying because you can’t control your abilities, do you even realize that I nearly got you killed and all because I fell for a pretty girl?”

“She’s a demon, Dean. She had us all fooled. And you thought she loved you,” Sam replied gently.

Dean snorted. “Loved me? She was just using me and I let her. I chose her over you,” he admitted ruefully. “It’s my fault she’s even still breathing.”

“She used us both, Dean. And neither of us is to blame for what she is or what she’s doing now.”

Dean remained silent, absorbed in his memories and guilt, his determination fading the longer Sam remained in the car.

“You need me, Dean. Maybe now more than ever,” Sam continued. “Besides, he’s my dad too and I owe Mia a little payback myself.”

He knew what Sam was getting at. They really didn’t have many choices when it came to battling the hybrid demon; holy water hadn’t been effective and the usual trick of catching her in a Devil’s Trap was worthless since she wasn’t truly possessed. His brother was counting on using his powers against Mia again. His out of control powers…

Dean didn’t like it, but he had to admit there weren’t any other options presenting themselves.

“We could always melt down the amulet…” he suggested jokingly. “I even promise to shoot you through the arm instead of the gut this time.”

Sam laughed as well and the tension within the old car decreased slightly.

“You just keep that thing around your neck,” he informed Dean. “Or Mia will be the least of your problems.”

Dean shrugged as he snickered. Pulling the gearshift back down, he slowly guided the Impala back onto the highway.

Silence engulfed them once more as the car cruised on through the night, but Dean was relieved that they’d managed to cover all the “sensitive” topics leaving nothing more than the weather or the latest centerfold in Busty Asian Beauties as probable subjects for discussion. He knew the previous conversation might have touched on some raw wounds but it was typical for the brothers to surrender to their own internal thoughts when faced with such dire circumstances. If he had a nickel for every time they’d rode in the car, side by side, and yet with a huge chasm separating them, Dean figured he could have bought a lifetime supply of wax for the Impala.

Several more miles down the road and Sam suddenly twisted around to grab his backpack from the rear seat, his backside uncomfortably close to Dean’s face. He might have thought it comical or even the start of a prank except that neither of them was in the mood for that kind of nonsense, all things considered.

“What the hell, dude?” Dean complained, shifting away.

“I need my computer.”

“Why? Did you forget to update your My Space page today?” he teased.

“No, smartass. There’s something just bothering me about all of this, the timing, ya know?” Sam answered as he plopped back down into the seat and flipped open the laptop.

“Timing? Do you honestly think that psychotic skank has some sort of timeline?”

“Tomorrow’s Halloween, and she was adamant about us being there before midnight.”

“And that means what? She’s just being a bitch. It’s a trap and she’s just pushing us into it,” Dean said.

“Maybe, but there’s just something in the back of my head… I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“Well, you do have a freakishly large head…”

“Funny, Dean.”

The elder sibling looked down at his watch, noting that it was just a little after 4 a.m. They still had about eight hours left till reaching Lawrence, even at the current speed.

“We should hit Kansas just after noon,” Dean stated. “You think you can figure it out by then?”

Sam ignored him, his head already buried in whatever Google had to offer, his fingers skimming across the mousepad.

Dean sighed and focused on the road beyond the windshield.

Heading home on Halloween with Mia holding all the cards… Could it be any worse than that?

***

Lawrence, Kansas

They reached Lawrence city limits around three-thirty, the fall sunshine beginning to ebb but the late afternoon heat was still somewhat oppressive within the car despite both windows rolled completely down. They didn’t bother looking for a motel; the urgency of the situation combined with the possible outcome seemed to belie the need for seeking out a place to base operations.

Dean slowed the Impala as he turned onto West 6th Street, slightly surprised by the spread of the homes so far out to the west. It had been a few years since he’d been back to Lawrence, so he figured he shouldn’t have been surprised by the growth, but still, it was a little strange realizing how much his little home town had changed.

Kinda like how much I’ve changed... he mentally added.

Dean slammed on the brakes as a bright red ball bounced out into the roadway immediately followed by a tow-headed little boy. He bit back a curse as the child grabbed the toy, looking up at Dean with wide-eyes as he stood in the middle of the street. A second later, the boy turned and bounded back to the sanctuary of his nearby yard, his laughter trailing behind him.

“Stupid kid…” Dean muttered.

“It feels weird, doesn’t it?” Sam asked, his eyes following the child.

“Define weird.”

“This place. It’s our hometown, but coming back here doesn’t feel like it,” he explained.

“I told you that before.”

“Yeah, I know, but it isn’t just the old house. I mean, being here, I don’t recognize anything. I don’t have any memories of a favorite playground or toy store or school.”

“Dude, you were six months old.”

“Okay, granted, but shouldn’t I feel something? Don’t you?” Sam challenged.

Dean stared out the window at the newer houses as they passed by. Manicured lawns, driveways lined with Camrys and Caravans, mailboxes perfectly spaced and standing like beacons of normality in a world that pretended evil was nothing worse than a speeding ticket or a bad test score. No doubt, all the people felt comfortable and secure within the perceived safety of the brick and stone. But he knew better; there was only so much that solid walls and doors could keep out.

“I don’t remember much about Lawrence either. We left here just a couple weeks after the fire, never looked back.” Dean recounted.

“Yeah, but before that,” Sam pestered. “Mom and Dad must have taken you for ice cream or gone to a movie. Didn’t you tell me you played T-ball that one summer? You gotta remember stuff like that?”

Dean groaned; he could remember… that was the problem.

“What’s with the twenty questions dude? Why the interest in my early childhood?” he grumbled.

“No reason. I guess the last time we were here it was just under different circumstances. I didn’t really get the chance to see the place, to get to know it. I mean, shouldn’t I know where I come from? Where Mom and Dad were from?”

“You don’t come from Lawrence, Sammy. This was never really home,” Dean replied quietly. This was only a place of death and bad memories…

Sam started to speak but Dean’s phone thankfully started to ring, sparing the older man any further trips down memory lane. Or so he thought.

Digging the cellular out, he saw that the incoming call was from his dad’s phone and he immediately answered it.

“Where’s our dad, Mia?” Dean snarled, knowing full well that despite it being his dad’s phone, the chance of his father actually being on the other end was slim.

“Ah, Dean, so good to hear your voice. Sammy was a naughty boy, teasing me like that. Tell me, where were you last night?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I have to admit, I was a little worried about you.”

“I was in good hands… very good hands…” he implied.

“Spare me the gruesome details, I just ate dinner,” Mia snarked back.

“Cut the crap, bitch. We’re here, in Lawrence. Now where the hell is our dad?” Dean shouted back, his voice betraying a momentary loss of his usual cocky control.

She laughed in his ear, her mockery chewing into his already worn nerves.

“Dammit, Mia,” he yelled.

“Oh, calm down, Dean. Your dad is fine… for the moment. I promised Sammy that I’d reunite all of you, and I will. But first, why don’t you chill and enjoy some of the sights around Lawrence? It’d be a shame for you to come all the way home and not have a chance to check out the old place.”

“Yeah, well… that’s not our home anymore,” Dean replied.

She laughed again. “It’s not going to be anyone’s home much longer,” Mia added cryptically.

“What did you do?” Dean demanded, his suspicions increasing.

“Consider it a housewarming party. You might want to bring some marshmallows,” she taunted.

Mia’s sadistic laughter filled the earpiece and Dean jammed his thumb against the “end call” button, silencing her. His heart was pounding as her words replayed in his head and he slammed on the brakes, making a last-second turn down a side street.

“Dean, what’s going on? What did she say? Where are we going?” Sam asked rapidly.

“She’s done something at the old house,” he answered, the Impala’s engine roaring as he pressed the accelerator.

“Jenny? And the kids? Oh my God,” Sam added worriedly.

***

It might have been the longest three mile drive Dean had ever made, and he wasn’t sure he breathed the entire time, his chest constricted tightly with apprehension. A block away, his heart sank when he spotted the thin plume of dark smoke rising up into the sky. Dean knew what it was, and he knew where it was coming from.

They screeched to a halt, tires squealing as the curb bit into the rubber, both brothers vaulting from the car almost before it came to a complete stop. Forced to park several houses away due to the presence of various fire trucks and other emergency vehicles, Dean couldn’t immediately see the two story house.

Rushing up the sidewalk with Sam matching his stride, he reached the yellow police tape just as the medics were rolling a body by on a stretcher. The repugnant odor of burnt flesh and hair assailed his nostrils, forcing Dean to cover the lower half of his face with the back of his hand.

He turned away, the all-too-familiar smell causing memories to come crashing back on him. The sensation of heat washed over him, the sound of screams pierced his ears and the acrid stench of burning skin, bone and hair was as vivid as it had been nearly twenty-six years ago.

“Hey! What happened here?”

Dean dimly heard his brother’s voice as Sam grabbed a passing firefighter, intent on getting answers. He leaned slightly closer, needing to hear but fearing he already knew the answer.

The man stopped, his soot-covered face downcast as he cleared his throat.

“Strangest thing,” he began. “It started in the upstairs in the young girl’s bedroom. It looks like it was electrical, but I’ll be damned if I’ve ever seen an electrical fire spread that fast in all my years on the job.”

“And the family?” Sam continued.

“Kids are fine. They’re over there with some neighbors. Child Services ought to be here pretty soon.”

“Child Services?” Dean interjected.

“Yeah! Their mom, she’s not looking so good,” he answered sadly, motioning toward the closed ambulance.

Dean swallowed hard, bile rising in his throat as he thought about Jenny. “You think she’ll make it?”

The firefighter shrugged before turning away.

Sam moved closer to his brother, nudging his arm as he pointed toward the brown-haired girl and smaller boy that huddled against a neighbor’s car.

“There’s Sari and Ritchie,” the younger hunter announced.

Dean followed Sam’s direction, spotting the young girl, older and taller now, and her brother, no longer a juice-seeking toddler. They stood side by side motionless, a look of shock and despair on their young faces. Sari’s arm encircled her brother’s shoulders as the child sobbed, yet she remained stoic, her eyes fixed on the wisps of gray smoke that wafted from windows of her home.

It killed him to watch the kids, the looks on their faces, the emotion, or lack thereof, being displayed; it was hauntingly familiar. Sari was much older than he’d been when he lost his mom, but the similarities were startling similar. The flashing lights, the sounds, the smells, even the dazed looks of the siblings as they leaned against the trunk of the car brought all of Dean’s most painful memories to the surface. He couldn’t bear it, his own heart breaking once again as visions of the fire that fateful night replayed in his head.

Turning away, Dean stalked back to the Impala, stopping at the driver’s side door but not opening it. Sam rejoined him a short time later, his brother mimicking his posture as he leaned against the opposite side of the car.

“Are they okay?” Dean asked quietly, his eyes downcast toward the black metal of the roof.

“No, not really,” Sam replied. “But Sari said that they have an aunt in Kansas City, so they won’t be alone through this.”

Dean huffed. “If they lose their mom, nothing will make that better.”

“Yeah…”

There was a pause as Dean rubbed the back of his neck and pushed away from the Impala. He reached for the Colt tucked inside the back waistband of his jeans, ejecting the clip to check the contents before jamming it back home with a determined grunt.

“Mia did this,” he announced. “If it’s the last thing I do, I’m gonna kill that bitch, as slowly and painfully as possible.”

Sam grunted in agreement.

Dean’s phone sounded again and he pulled it out, flipping it open without even looking at the caller i.d. He didn’t need to. He knew it was her, calling to gloat, seeking to torment them even more.

“What do you want, Mia?” he shouted angrily.

“Aw, Dean. Just a little short-tempered today are we? Maybe it’s the stench of charred skin and hair that’s put you off. I s’pose its kinda hard to get that smell out of your nostrils, isn’t it? Surprising though, I would have thought you were pretty familiar with it by now,” the demon replied sarcastically.

“Screw you, Mia. I’m tired of all these games, you sadistic bitch. If you want us, come and get us, but leave all these innocent people alone!”

“Games? Do you think this is just a game to me?” Mia screamed back. “You just don’t get it do you? I take my work just as seriously as you do. After everything your family has cost me, this is no game, its personal.”

“You better believe its personal, you black-eyed skank. That works both ways,” Dean returned, his voice low and lethal.

“Fine,” she snapped. “Since you’ve sunk to name calling, let’s just put this all to an end. Meet me at the old Stull cemetery… eleven o’clock. Otherwise, bring a shovel for your dad.”

“We’ll be there. And Mia…”

“What?”

“That shovel… it’s gonna be for you,” Dean promised.

Stull Cemetery

The five hours between Mia’s phone call and when the Impala pulled off to the side of the old cemetery road seemed like forever. The brothers killed the time in a small diner in Kanwaka, a little blip on the map just west of Lawrence. The waitress had been pretty and under different circumstances, Dean thought he’d be all over her. But tonight, nothing, neither the girl nor the tempting aromas emanating from the kitchen, had appealed to him.

Under normal conditions, Dean’s adrenaline would have been pumping, his body twitching as he readied for a hunt. But tonight, he didn’t feel the same excitement, the same itch to rush headlong into the fight.

So now, remaining in the driver’s seat, his hands still grasping the steering wheel, Dean stared out into the darkness. The cemetery appeared empty, the bright moon casting an eerie glow on the old markers. There was a small tree line off to the north of where the Impala was parked and a slight grade rose beyond the farthest row of graves, but other than that, there didn’t appear to be any other place for cover.

Still, he knew Mia was there… somewhere.

“Dean, look,” Sam alerted him.

He followed his brother’s gaze, spotting the large oak that sat atop the hill. He’d missed it at first glance, but as his eyes narrowed, his pupils dilating to acclimate to the dim light, Dean picked up on the movement. The form shifted, its shadow peeling away from the dark bulk of the tree. It blended back in just as quickly, but there was no denying what it was.

“Dad!” Dean exclaimed, pushing open the car door and vaulting out.

Sam followed behind him as he cautiously skirted between the rows of graves. His eyes darted back and forth as Dean watched for the hybrid demon to make an appearance. He pulled up short at the foot of the little hill, his eyes taking in their dad.

John Winchester was tied to the tree, a thick rope encircling his upper body several times while another coil snaked around his ankles and a separate one was wrapped around his neck. Even from this distance, Dean could see the dried smears of blood that covered his father’s face as well as the dark patches that marred his outer clothing. John’s eyes were wide with concern as he strained against the thick gag that was jammed into his mouth.

Mia’s handiwork!

He fought the urge to rush to his dad’s side knowing it was a trap. Next to him, Sam mumbled a curse and Dean could feel the energy pouring off his brother as he struggled to restrain himself from reacting. Dean reached over and put a hand on Sam’s arm, stilling the younger man and pulling him to a stop beside a large, cracked tombstone. With his free hand, he pointed toward the tree and the emerging figure.

“Hello boys!” Mia called out with a wave. “Glad to see you made it on time.”

“We came. Now what?” Sam growled.

“Impatient much? Are you that eager to have all the fun come to an end?”

“I’m that eager to not have your voice screeching in my ear,” Dean threw back.

“You used to like my voice Dean. Never heard you complain when I was whispering sweet nothings in your ear back at Dix’s place. Of course, you were pretty busy making ‘happy sounds’ yourself that day as I recall.”

“I was screaming on the inside…”

“Funny! But then that’s what you’re all about isn’t it? Drowning yourself in sex and alcohol, love ’em and leave ’em, deal with the fallout or hangover the next day. Too bad you can’t care about anyone else the way you do your father and brother,” she taunted.

“And what would you know about family? You pretty much killed all of yours. Not to mention all your friends and basically anyone that even shares the same air space.”

“I DID NOT KILL MY FAMILY!” she screamed in reply, stepping further from the shadow of the large tree and away from John.

“Live in that illusion, honey. But what’s inside of you, killed them just as surely as if you’d pulled the trigger,” Dean went on.

“NO! He killed them. Your dad killed my father and brothers. He killed my mother and left me like this.”

“Your family was already dead when he got there, slaughtered by the demon that was possessing your mom. My dad was trying to save your worthless ass,” Dean refuted. “No one could have known that friggin’ Hellspawn was gonna decide to take up residence in you.”

“NO!” she yelled again.

“Yep, face it Mia. All that evil inside of you, all those powers that you’re so proud of displaying, that’s what killed them. You think that what you’ve become is so special, you’re just too stupid to realize you aren’t controlling it, it’s controlling you,” he continued.

“SHUT UP!” she bellowed with rage, her arms pumping at her sides as she slammed her fists against her hips. “Shut up… shutupshutupshutup!”

Beside him, Sam shifted nervously. “Dude, what are you doing? Are you trying to piss her off? Don’t you think she can kill us easily enough without you making her a into raving lunatic?” he whispered intently.

“She’s already a raving lunatic, dude. Look, we need her to tip her hand. I don’t know any other way to get her to show it,” Dean replied.

He turned his attention back to the petite brunette standing atop the hill. She paced frantically, mumbling to herself in time with her movement.

“Deny it all you want,” Dean went on. “But you killed your dad, you killed your brothers, you killed Greg and Karen and all those other innocent people that only tried to love and care about you. And… you killed your mom. Face it bitch, you killed every person that ever gave a damn about you either directly or indirectly.”

Mia screamed, a high-pitched wail of fury and rage that echoed across the quiet cemetery.

“I HATE YOU!” she shrieked. “I HATE YOU ALL!”

Dean chuckled loudly. “Oh darlin’, I know you do. And trust me when I say, the feeling’s mutual.”

He watched as her eyes closed, normal brown orbs obscured by blue-tinted lids.

“Get Dad,” Dean whispered, leaning over toward Sam. “You do what you have to and get the hell out of here.”

Before his brother could reply, Dean moved around the gravestone and toward the base of the hill.

“Come on, Mia… why don’t you finish me off? Can’t let me live, you’d ruin your perfect record,” he taunted as he approached her.

Her eyes flew open, coal black irises blazing even in the shadows of the night.

“My pleasure,” she hissed, her head dipping down as she glared at him from underneath her brows.

He felt it hit him, that all-too-familiar but invisible force that was an emissary of the pain to come. Dean felt his body lift off the ground and sail backwards, narrowly missing a granite headstone and landing hard against the packed soil. He groaned, lying there unmoving as he fought to pull in another breath.

“How’s that for a start, Dean?” Mia asked, looking down at him.

Dean struggled back to his knees, reaching out to the closest marker to pull himself up. “You throw like a girl,” he jibed.

She waved her hand and the tombstone exploded, propelling the young hunter’s body through the air while peppering him with tiny shards of rock. He cried out as a long shard pierced his upper left arm, impaling through the thickest part of his bicep.

It took longer this time, but Dean managed to rise up again, his gaze seeking out the demon even while from the corner of his eye he spotted Sam slowly making his way up the side of the knoll towards their father.

Just keep her attention a little longer, he reiterated silently.

“What’s the matter, Mia? You got nothing better in your bag of tricks?”

“Oh, I’m just getting started, Dean. I’m gonna enjoy listening to you choke on your own blood.”

He dropped to his knees again as a crushing force wrapped around his chest. Dean knew what she was doing, he’d seen the end results first hand back in Fort Worth.

Hang on… he ordered himself as he felt a rib crack beneath his skin. He stole a quick glance at Sam. His brother had made it to their dad and was quietly cutting through the thick ropes that held John against the tree.

Just a little longer… hurry Sammy…

There was another audible snap, another rib fracturing under the invisible pressure. He couldn’t breathe, he could barely see and the salty taste of blood on his lips was warm and sickening.

And then it was gone…

Dean dropped flat to the earth, his breathing ragged as he dimly wondered why she’d let him go.

He heard Sam’s loud grunt, the sound forcing him to raise his head, panic filling him as he realized that Mia had released him only to go after his brother.

“SAM!” Dean screamed as he watched his sibling roll limply down the side of the hill.

“Nice try, boys. But I knew you were gonna do something stupid like that. You guys are like an open book. A very boring one, but nonetheless…”

She nodded toward the younger Winchester and Dean watched in horror as Sam’s body was lifted and repeatedly slammed against a tall headstone. His brother was already bloody, red trickling from the side of his mouth while more covered his face from a wide laceration over his right eye.

“MIA! Stop!” Dean begged. Not Sammy, not again…

The repeated pounding on Sam ceased and Dean watched in desperation as his brother’s body slid bonelessly to the ground.

“Aw, Dean. I so love it when you beg,” Mia sneered.

She feigned a yawn, her porcelain features contorted as her palm patted against her lips. “But, as fun as all this is… it’s kinda getting boring. I thought I might enjoy torturing you more, but I guess there’s just no amusement in it, no challenge I s’pose.”

Dean crawled toward Sam, one hand protectively holding his injured chest as he struggled to reach his brother. Sam’s lids fluttered open, his pupils changing size as his eyes moved rapidly from side to side.

“Sammy, you okay?” Dean asked worriedly.

His brother grunted and reached out a shaking arm to Dean’s shoulder giving it a less than reassuring squeeze.

“I’m fine…” he replied. “I don’t think your plan worked.”

The short-haired hunter pulled himself to his feet, biting back against the pain of his broken ribs and bleeding arm. Reaching down, he offered his hand and drew Sam up beside him.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Dean growled at Mia through clenched teeth.

She turned back toward John, her long tresses flowing behind her on the soft breeze. Sauntering closer to the bound hunter, she snuggled in to him, her hands glossing over his body even as he tried to pull away from her. As her fingers reached toward John’s face, tiny sparks danced from the tips, glancing off the older hunter’s flesh like arcs of electricity.

Alarmed, Dean lunged forward, screaming out for the demon to stop. But she ignored him as her hands began to glow, her palms cupping John’s cheeks. The elder Winchester bucked as the current raged through his body, his muscles straining against the ropes as the electricity triggered bone-snapping spasms.

Dean kept yelling, not even sure what words were coming from his mouth as he screamed at Mia not to kill his dad. Next to him, Sam remained unmoving, his hand resting on Dean’s right arm as he gently restrained his older brother.

“I got this…” Sam barely whispered.

Dean stopped, his attention begrudgingly pulled from the scene atop the hill to focus on his brother. Sam’s eyes drifted closed, and despite the relaxed appearance, his musculature became rigid, his jaw clenching reflexively.

“Say goodbye to your daddy, boys. Tell me, how do you like your meat? Rare or extra crispy?” Mia goaded them as she reached toward John’s chest, her hand hovering over his heart.

Standing next to Dean, Sam’s breathing slowed, his eyes remained closed, but an eerily similar glow began to illuminate his fingertips. Dean wasn’t sure what his brother was doing, he’d never really cared about “how” Sam managed to reflect powers, he’d only ever seen the end results. Still, he could only hope now that his brother could somehow stop the psychotic woman before she killed their dad and finished them.

A high-pitched shriek stole his attention and Dean’s head spun to find the origin.

Mia had pulled away from John, staggering backward as she looked down at her hands.

“What? No…” she muttered.

The glow that had once enveloped her extremities was now gone, replaced by small flashes of light that popped and crackled like an electrical socket shorting out. She bellowed with rage as the power drained from her. In the next instant, she was thrown backwards, her small body landing hard on the ground, smoke curling up from around her form.

Dean couldn’t prevent the shocked expression from covering his face. His brother had managed to absorb all the energy and then throw it back at her. While he wanted to enjoy the moment, Dean knew it hadn’t completely stopped her.

Mia slowly returned to her feet, her face contorted with anger. She glared at Sam, her eyes narrowing as she limped back to the spot in front of the oak. For a second, her face softened, betraying her weakness, but she quickly replaced it, her eyes refilling with black.

“Nice try,” she sneered at the younger Winchester. “But see if you can stop this.”

She twisted slightly, her gaze turning to fix on Dean.

He dropped to his knees, one hand reaching out to grab futilely at the edge of Sam’s shirtsleeve while the other grabbed his chest. The pressure was incredible, worse than before, and Dean knew she was killing him. Sam couldn’t save him now.

He looked up to his brother, wordlessly pleading as he felt his insides shifting and tearing. But Sam never lost his focus, staring straight back at the brunette, his eyes unblinking, his hands clenched tightly at his sides.

Darkness edged in on the periphery of Dean’s vision, blood filled his mouth as he collapsed on his side. He looked between Sam and the hill, his brother strangely remaining stoic even as his dad jerked against the bindings, silently screaming as his eyes met Dean’s. But as the young man felt the life ebbing from him, his heart pounding out its last beats, he noticed something else.

Atop the rise, Mia twitched, her body jerking slightly, her focus momentarily distracted. She sucked in a deep breath, her brows pinching together again. Dean felt the pressure lessen and then return. But this time it wasn’t as strong, not nearly as torturous.

Stealing a look at Sam, he knew his brother was somehow managing to drain Mia’s power; not reflecting it, but actually drawing it from her, absorbing it as if he was soaking up the warm rays of the sun on the first day of summer.

“Stop it, Sam!” Mia shouted. “I’ll turn your brother into a pile of steaming slop if you don’t stop now!”

“You wont get the chance, Mia. Even now, you’re getting weaker aren’t you?” Sam replied calmly. There was no turning back, Dean realized, not even if Sam wanted to.

The woman staggered again, dropping to one knee, her expression allowing a brief hint of panic to appear. She tried to cover it, but there was no mask to replace the fact that Sam was defeating her.

Dean felt his lungs expand, the pain in his body suddenly diminishing. He embraced the brief glimmer of hope as Mia fell forward to her hands, her body sagging like a limp rag doll, blood appearing at the corner of her mouth. Forcing his own hands beneath him, he pushed up with the last vestiges of strength born of desperation.

Beside him, Sam faltered, his knees buckling as he fought to control the surge of energy emanating from the demon. Tears poured from his eyes and perspiration covered his brow, mixing with the free-flowing blood from the laceration. But it was his eyes that worried Dean the most.

Sam’s eyes were completely black, not a hint of his brother’s usual blue-green or even a smidgen of white was visible. It was a frightening replay of the house, except this time, Dean saw nothing that reminded him of his younger sibling.

“Sammy?” he called out gently.

His brother didn’t answer at first, his black orbs still gazing toward the failing demon yards away. But then, Dean noticed the tremor, a little tic of Sam’s jaw that indicated how hard his brother was fighting against the dark power that was threatening to consume him or rip him apart.

“Got… her…” he croaked out weakly. “ Finish… now…”

Dean nodded. Torn between wanting to help Sam, but not knowing how, and the fear that his brother might not be able to control all of Mia’s evil energy, he suddenly realized what his brother had done.

Mia was drained… powerless… human once more.

Reaching into his pocket, Dean pulled his .45 and flipped off the safety with a quick movement of his thumb. He rose to one knee, his own body wanting nothing more than to collapse. He fought the weakness, steadying his arm as he lined up the shot.

“Dean!” Mia cried out, her hand reaching toward him imploringly. “Help me… please.”

His heart broke for a split second as her eyes returned to their warm cinnamon, her features softening as she reminded him of the first time he’d met her. So innocent, so frightened, so seemingly human…

He blinked away the memory, his eyes glancing quickly to his father, bloody and beaten, then to Sam, trembling under the weight of the demon’s powers.

“Sorry, honey,” Dean snarled. “But I’m not making that mistake again.”

He pulled the trigger, the Colt jumping in his hand as the slugs tore from the weapon. His aim was true and the bullets found their intended target, burrowing into the brunette’s chest and shattering her sternum as they shredded through her lung and heart.

She stared at him in disbelief, her face dropping down to look at the blossoming red on the front of her shirt. She touched the spreading blood as though she couldn’t accept it and then looked back to Dean.

“I’ll see… you… in Hell…” she choked out.

“Yeah, maybe,” Dean replied coldly. “But I’m okay with that.”

He pulled the trigger once again, watching dispassionately as the final bullet plunged into Mia’s forehead. Her head snapped back with a spray of bone, blood and brain matter before her eyes closed and she dropped to the cooling ground.

Silence settled over the cemetery and for a second, nothing moved. Dean dropped back to his rear, his eyes never leaving Mia’s still form. Beside him, Sam sagged to the ground, his body wracked by tremors, chest heaving as though he’d just run a marathon.

He had… Dean dimly thought.

“Happy Halloween, Sammy,” Dean joked wearily.

Sam laughed weakly, “Sorry I didn’t get you any candy, dude.”

Using the grave marker behind him, Dean pulled himself to his feet before offering a hand to his brother. He grimaced as Sam pulled against him, rising to his full height minus a couple inches as he hunched over slightly.

“You okay?” Dean asked worriedly.

“Fantastic. You?”

“Never better.”

“Get Dad?”

“Yeah…”

They made their way up the grade, neither commenting as they leaned on each other. Reaching the large oak, Sam moved behind John, his pocketknife open as he began to saw through the ropes.

Dean cautiously approached Mia, his hand taut against the trigger of the .45 as he neared her.
He toed her cautiously, her body rolling onto its side, her eyes staring vacantly upward.

Dean swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat and ran the back of his hand across his forehead. Kneeling down, his fingertips glossed across her face as he pushed her eyes closed, knowing that his quickly surfacing guilt wouldn’t be shoved away as easily.

“It had to be done.” His dad’s voice broke the silence even as John’s huge hand grasped Dean’s shoulder, delivering a gentle squeeze.

Had to be done? Sure… she was a demon, evil to the core, but she’d been partially human too…

And partially inhuman as well…

Dean was about to reply when a banshee-like shriek cascaded over the countryside. He startled, as did his brother and father, the three hunters scanning the area for the source of the unearthly noise.

It sounded again, closer this time.

“What the hell was that?” Dean posed.

“Can’t be anything good,” Sam added.

“Boys, we need to get out of here,” John warned, his voice low even as he shifted nervously.

A rustle in the nearby brush pulled the men’s attention even as more noises, grunts and growls seemed to surround them.

“Get to the car,” John ordered, even as the first demon broke from the nearby darkness.

Dean looked toward the Impala. Parked near the northern tree line, the black Chevy was already being swarmed by dozens of Hellspawn. Wherever they were coming from, it was as if all of Hell had opened up and a mass exodus was occurring.

“We’ll never make it,” the young hunter shouted back, even as his eyes frantically looked for some other source of protective cover.

Grossly outnumbered, he knew they needed some place to make a stand, even if he couldn’t fully understand why all of a sudden they had Lucifer’s hosts coming at them.

“What the hell is that?” Sam queried, pointing in the direction of a small stone building that had just ethereally appeared at the end of the rows of graves.

“I dunno, but it beats being caught with our pants down out here,” Dean replied, already heading in the direction of the small structure, even as several black-eyed humans reached the top of the hill.

“Dean… wait!” John yelled, following the younger men at a steady run.

They breached the door of the building, throwing open the rotting wood amidst John’s continuing protests. Dean slammed the rickety barrier closed, pressing his back against it even as the bodies of the horde outside rammed into it.

He let loose a shaky breath, panting heavily. Across from him Sam mirrored his breathlessness, his eyes darting nervously around the room.

“What the hell is happening?” Dean managed after a moment.

“The better question is where the hell did this church come from?” Sam added, slowly perusing the interior of the building.

Between them, John paced nervously, his eyes wide with fear. It was a frightening look and one Dean had rarely ever seen on his father’s face.

“Dad?” he asked tentatively. “What aren’t you telling us?”

John Winchester stopped his pacing as he reached a wooden pew. Pulling a hymnal from the back of the seat, he held it up for Dean to see.

“Don’t you realize what’s happening here?” the elder hunter demanded.

Dean looked at him quizzically even as Sam drew back to the group.

“This is Stull church, isn’t it?” the younger sibling posed.

“And it’s Halloween. Mia knew what she was doing, bringing us to this place on this night,” John added.

“You gotta be kidding me? This is holy ground…”

“No, this is very UNHOLY ground. Dude, seven Gateways to Hell and we manage to have one in our very own home town,” Sam informed him.

Dean groaned as it all came together. “Holy crap, and Halloween; the one time of the year that the Gateway opens. Friggin’ fantastic.”

“What now?” Sam asked.

“Well, I’m not thinking that we’ll last long out there,” Dean returned, his body jerking as the door behind him bulged inward.

“We can’t stay here,” John said worriedly. “We need to find a way out and quick. You got anything in that gearbag Sam?”

The younger hunter shrugged the green canvas tote from his shoulder, nodding as he unzipped it and pulled out two shotguns. He threw one to his father before pumping a round into the chamber of the other. Reaching back inside, he drew out a handful of shells, taking a few steps closer and handing them to John.

“We have a couple dozen rounds and a couple flasks of holy water. It’s not gonna get us far,” Sam announced.

“Check the place out, see if there are any other exits. I’ll hold this door,” John ordered, moving to replace Dean at the entrance.

Dean deftly caught the flask of holy water Sam threw toward him, and after replacing the clip in his .45, he and Sam moved through the small sanctuary to the door at the rear. Outside the thin walls, the growls and screams of the tormented echoed all around and to the elder sibling, it was like a bad remake of Dawn of the Dead, except he knew that there were worse things out there than zombies. Way worse…

He tried to ignore the noises, blocking them from his mind as he focused on finding a means of escape. The exit led to a long hallway, dotted with three other doors, each closed and each appearing less inviting than the next. He flung the first open, groaning as it led to a small study sparsely decorated and oddly illuminated with a single lantern.

“I’ve got a door to a basement here,” Sam called out even as Dean moved further into the room, his eyes focused on the peculiar light.

He was about to reach for the lantern, his fingers barely skimming the handle when the thing seemed to waver under his touch. Around him, the room flickered, the desk and books blinking in and out as though they were nothing more than special effects projected into the dark space.

“What the hell…” Dean exclaimed as everything disappeared. The desk, the papers, the lantern, even the small shuttered window across the room suddenly vanished.

Dean spun for the door, his eyes going wide as the wall behind him was now unbroken, no sign of any exit. He whirled around, desperately searching for a way out of the weird place.

“DEEEAAAANNNN!”

Sam’s cry assaulted Dean’s ears. It came from the other side of the wall, just where he knew the hallway was, or maybe had been. It was close, and yet Dean could find no way to get out of the room. He pounded frantically on the old plaster, desperate to get to his brother as the sound of the Remington firing increased his panic.

“SAAMMYY!” he shouted back. “Sammy, where are you?”

“DEEEEAAANNN!” Sam called out again, his voice betraying his pain and fear.

Desperation filling him, Dean aimed the .45 and emptied the clip into the nearest wall. When the automatic seemed to make no dent, he then took to the plaster with his fists, alternately punching and tearing at the material.

Outside the room, he heard the report of the second shotgun, followed by his father’s grunts of pain and the pounding sound of footfalls signalling that the front door to the church had been breached. He screamed out both his brother’s and his father’s names as he frantically clawed and kicked at the place where the door had been.

Around him, the walls shimmered once more and Dean spotted another door appear on the far wall. Charging toward it before it could disappear, he kicked it open, shocked when it lead to the former hallway instead of outside as he would have guessed.

“SAMMMY!” he screamed at the top of his lungs even as he tried to get his bearings, listening intently for his brother’s location as the Remington fired once more.

He tried to follow the sounds, tracking them toward the doorway at the end of the corridor. Beyond the closed door, Dean could hear the demons animal-like snarls.

Hearing a loud crash followed by Sam’s soft groan, Dean threw caution aside and slammed into the wood with his shoulder. He pulled up short as the room before him revealed itself to be none other than the original study he’d just existed.

He turned quickly, but it was no use. The door he’d just come through had already disappeared. Twin blasts from the shotgun in conjunction with several bellowed curses told him that his dad was still mounting a defense. He called out to his father, but John didn’t reply.

Breathing raggedly thanks to the broken ribs, blood pouring down his arm from the piece of rock which had impaled him earlier, Dean wasn’t sure how much longer he could manage to remain on his feet. He needed to get to his dad, needed to find his brother, but as the howling increased outside, Dean was beginning to think that maybe Mia, even in death, had won.

The walls around him shimmered again and Dean prepared himself for the next evolution of the strange church. He didn’t have to wait long as another door appeared next to him. More cautious this time, Dean inched closer, his hand hesitating slightly on the knob.

He flung it wide open, his .45 aimed before him and into the oppressive darkness. He wasn’t back to the hallway, he wasn’t back in the study, and Dean was certain that this wasn’t the main sanctuary. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his faithful Zippo, his thumb striking the wheel as a small flame coxed to life.

“Aw crap!” he bemoaned as the tiny light illuminated the space before him.

It was a stairway, dark and foreboding. Yet within the blackness something moved.

Dean knew instantly what was hiding within the void, he didn’t have to see them to confirm it, even as the sensation of liquid trickling down his chest made him look down to where the feather was tucked away within the layers of his shirts.

It was bleeding…

Demons!

Backing into the room, he grabbed for the door hoping to block the entrance and buy just a little time before maybe the place would morph once more. But it had already happened; the door was gone as was any other sign of escape.

His shoulders struck the far wall even as the first of the Hellspawn vaulted into the room. Dean braced himself for the attack as more demons poured into the room. Taking careful aim, he raised the Colt, resigning himself to his fate.

“Goodbye Sammy…” he muttered softly as he stepped forward. “Alright boys… come and get it!”

***

Outside the glowing church a towering figure strode to the top of the hill and looked down on the cemetery below. Dressed in an impeccably tailored Armani suit, the newcomer smiled as he listened to the dimming sound of the melee going on in the building.

Demons ran uninhibited across the graveyard, some squealing in delight while others growled and raged in their freedom. It was their night, and the tall figure looked on with pride as his minions scurried across the countryside.

It was all coming together, his plans finding fruition on this most special of nights. Add to the fact that three of the biggest thorns in his side were down there trapped within the Hellgate and he couldn’t have been happier.

Lucifer considered heading down to the small church, if for no other reason than to gloat over his enemies’ eventual demise. But as he moved forward, his glowing red eyes fell on the silent form of the petite brunette at his feet.

Stooping down, he ran his fingertips through the tangled strands of her hair. She had been a good one and he’d been impressed with the havoc she’d created over the past year.

Cold… she was dead beneath his touch, the blood from her wounds already congealing in the chilling night air.

Lucifer smiled again. This was nothing he couldn’t easily rectify.

He touched her temple and uttered a brief Latin incantation pulling away when she bolted upright with a gasp. She coughed several times, her eyes staring wildly as she tried to understand what had happened.

He offered her his hand but she remained wary, flinching away from his touch.

“I like your style,” he murmured softly. “How’d you like a place in the starting lineup?”

She watched him, her eyes narrowing as understanding of who and what he was became apparent. She returned his smile and reached to take his hand. Rising up, she took her place at his side as he stroked the back of her head, caressing her like a beloved child as she leaned into his touch.

Side by side they stood there, watching and listening as the battle waned in the church below. The sounds of gunfire gave way to a last defiant curse before everything submitted to the angry growls of the demon horde surging out of the Gate and roiling over the three hunters.

Eventually, silence returned, a quiet stillness settling over the cemetery as it welcomed three more souls into its ranks.

The End

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The Winchester Chronicles