Season Three

Episode Twelve: Retribution

By irismay42 & Tree

Part Four

Collins house,
Forth Worth, TX

“You’re gonna die, Dean. I’m going to tear you apart piece by piece, slowly, deliciously...” Mia sneered as she pulled items from the paper bag she’d just carried in to the house.

“You know, I’ve really learned a lot about inflicting pain over the past few months. You could say that I’ve perfected my technique when it comes to using some rather unconventional tools.”

She broke in to an almost girlish giggle, tossing her head backwards as she continued her work. Pulling out several knives, she systematically held each upward, examining its edge with the side of her thumb.

“First you, then your dad. Did you know, Dean that certain Native American tribes could keep a prisoner alive for days while they tortured them? They were quite good at prolonging death, never letting their victims lose too much blood, knowing exactly what organs could be damaged without it being fatal,” she taunted.

“Great! So you spent some time in the library, just my luck you found the ‘How-To’ section for serial killers instead of something more productive like old copies of Vogue,” Dean snapped in reply.

Mia pulled out a long screwdriver next, spinning around so he could see its shining stainless steel tip. She waved it back and forth, taunting him as his mind conjured up the possible injuries the tool could inflict.

“You know, flat-blade screwdrivers are so handy for getting in those nooks and crannies. I used a drill on Greg’s eyes, but I’m wondering if this wouldn’t just ‘pop’ them out a little easier. The last time was just sooo messy,” she complained. ‘Maybe we’ll give that a try on John. Oh, but only after he’s seen what I do to you.”

“He’s gonna mess you up, Mia. You’ll never get your hands on him,” the trapped hunter steadfastly insisted.

“You just keep saying that till you believe it, sweetheart. Matter of fact, you can scream it out with your last breath, but it won’t change what’s gonna happen here. I’m going to introduce you to a whole new world of pain, Dean. And if you’re lucky, I’ll let you off quick like I did Sam.”

“Pain? Hell Mia, I’ve been living in pain ever since you came into my life. We’ve already had sex, so there’s nothing else you can do to me that would violate me more,” he threw back with a caustic grin.

“Nice comeback, lover, but I don’t exactly recall you screaming when I was on top. Admit it, Dean... even now, you’re still attracted to me,” Mia leered suggestively.

“Oh you’re right about that. I’d love nothing more than for you to be underneath me again… so long as I was updated on all my shots and had a loaded .45 against your temple.”

She dismissed his idle threat with a wave of her hand and a casual toss of her long brown hair. Turning away from Dean, she went back to her unpacking.

Dean watched the brunette continue to unload the bag with morbid fascination, straining against the bonds to see the objects she removed. He regretted the movement almost instantly as the thin twine burrowed even further into the mangled flesh at his wrists, restarting the bleeding again.

He didn’t care about pain, if anything his hands had been numb for so long he was worried the lack of circulation might have already caused irreparable damage. His broken thumb and index finger had long since ceased the agonizing throb that had set his jaw to clenching.

What does any of that matter? My dad’s gonna storm in here and that bitch is gonna kill him if I don’t do something...

Yanking his shoulder upward with a hard jerk, Dean held back the groan of pain that rose up out of his throat as more of his flesh was torn away. He felt his hand slide slightly, the blood covering his damaged hands and saturating the rope also allowing some minute movement.

Encouraged, he twisted again, feeling his dislocated thumb inch underneath the tight bonds. The grind of the misplaced bone ends being forced to move awkwardly against each other was like nails on a chalkboard, but Dean steadfastly ignored it.

“Just a little more...” he silently begged.

From the corner of his eye, he carefully watched Mia resume pulling items from the grocery bag, placing each out in a line across the kitchen counter. More concerned with his effort to free himself, Dean hadn’t paid much attention to the objects she had removed, but as she hefted a large power drill, a sudden chill coursed over him.

Dean swallowed hard, feeling as though the same heart that was wildly beating in his chest had now jammed up in his throat. Images of Mia’s former boyfriend lying in his own pool of blood flashed through his mind, vacant orbits stared upward while the man’s mouth remained open in a silent scream.

He watched her add the drill to the line of other implements, his heart betraying him as it pounded beneath his ribcage. Dean’s eyes widened as he then saw Mia pull out a short blue cylinder.

A blowtorch? What the hell?

The young hunter knew he was in trouble, fully recognized that Mia had threatened to kill him right in front of his dad. But he hadn’t really counted on her using drills and blowtorches to carry out the psychotic deed. Still, he wasn’t totally surprised, considering the lengths she had gone to snare him and the methods she’d employed to kill her former friends.

“What’s wrong, lover?” Mia purred, turning to catch Dean staring at her activity. “Nothing here but a few of your basic home repair and torturing tools.”

Dean watched as she lifted the drill again, brandishing it as though it were a handgun, the sadistic smile and narrowed glint in her eyes never leaving her face as she waved the tool in the air. She turned back to the counter and dropped the drill, running her hands along the assembled tools as if she were perusing a selection of fine jewels.

“Yeah, well don’t get too excited. I don’t imagine they’ll have any openings on Extreme Home Makeover for a psychotic bitch like you...” Dean snarled.

Her laughter assaulted him, echoing throughout the empty house like some ghostly cackle. By now, it didn’t faze him. He’d already made his mind up as to how much he despised her, how evil she was and how far she’d go to get her revenge.

Dean’s only focus was on escaping. Somehow, someway, he was determined to get away from this woman and warn his father.

Waiting till her attention was back on her peculiar weapons, Dean returned to working his hand out from the coils of twine that were wrapped around him. He had to give it to Mia, she’d known what she was doing when she chose the coarse twine to tie him up.

Twisting his wrists back and forth, he was hopeful that his previous efforts hadn’t been lost during the distraction.

Tugging again, Dean felt his dislocated thumb move once more, the blood-slicked binding giving slightly and allowing the digit to slide underneath the knots. It was excruciating, the torsion exerted on the already injured thumb was nearly more than Dean could stand. Setting his jaw, he tugged again, the urgency outweighing the agony.

Close... so close... come on dammit, just pull free...

He urged himself on, gritting his teeth and holding his breath against the pain as he felt his tortured thumb creep further underneath the wire-like lengths that held him securely to the chair.

For Dad...

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Dean’s head popped up and he found himself staring into Mia’s dark eyes. In the dim light of the deserted house, he couldn’t tell if her irises were the rich brown or partially glazed over black. It hardly mattered as she pounced into his lap like an overgrown cat.

“A psychotic, demonic, overgrown cat...” Dean thought to himself as he recoiled from her contact.

She scooted closer to him, her lithe body snuggling in against him as she had once done back at Dix’s. The movement repulsed him and he pulled away again shifting his hips in an effort to dislodge her.

“Get the hell off me, bitch,” he hissed.

Her hands reached out and stroked the side of his face, continuing down his neck and resting on his chest. It was meant to be sensual, but to Dean, it was as though the skin on her palms was acid, her touch burning his flesh with searing heat.

“Ah honey... you used to like it when I touched you. What’s the matter? Have you lost that lovin’ feeling?” Mia cooed, her breath pouring hotly against his ear.

“Yeah, hard to have that warm fuzzy when you have a black-eyed skank crawling all over you. Gotta tell you darlin’, as turn-offs go, this ranks pretty much at the top of my list.”

She didn’t verbally respond to his bait and Dean cringed as her hands continued down his sides, around his hips and behind his back to where his hands were firmly bound. Groaning, he tried to ignore the pain her touch caused as her fingers reached the raw flesh of his wrists. Biting down on his lip, he barely managed to keep from crying out when she dug her nails into the tattered skin, yanking harshly against the thin rope to make sure it was still secured.

“Trying to get free? Gee sweetheart, aren’t you enjoying our time together?”

“It’s been a blast. Let’s promise not to do it again anytime soon, okay?” he gasped back.

Her face turned to worry, her eyebrows arching upward with concern. “Aw, Dean, look what you’ve done to yourself. So much blood, and your poor hands, if you’re not careful, you could permanently damage them. Oh wait, you won’t be needing your hands anymore now will you? Well, unless it’s to cram your intestines back inside when I get done ripping you open.”

He glared at her, doing his best to remain strong and defiant despite her repetitive threats. “Just get off me, Mia. Kill me or get off me, ’cause whatever you’re planning to do to me is nothing compared to having you this close.”

She tsk’d her chagrin, pulling away from him slightly but remaining firmly planted on his lap. Bringing her hands back up to his face, she smiled sweetly as she reached to touch him.

“You really should be careful what you wish for,” she warned.

Even before her fingers contacted his skin, white-blue sparks began to dance off of the tips. The small bolts of electricity struck the side of his face, making Dean jolt reflexively.

Beginning with a tingle, the sensation grew in intensity as her hands ran through his short hair, increasing as if she were turning up the dial on the energy surging out of her and into him. The tingle turned to burning as Dean tried to pull away, his entire body starting to feel the current as it surged down nerve endings from his scalp to his toes.

He bucked convulsively underneath her, struggling to pull away from her touch, but she twined her fingers through the short strands of his hair, holding him firmly in place as the electricity rushed throughout him. The pain was excruciating, every muscle beginning to contract in seizure-like spasms.

She was killing him, right here, right now.

“No... Dad...” Dean called out weakly.

“Daddy’s not here yet, Dean. But he will be soon. He will be soon...” she hissed.

“He’s... gonna... kill you!” Dean spat back.

Muscles taut to the point of rupturing, bones threatening to snap under the pressure of the electrically induced contractures, Dean strained to remain conscious. He jerked one last time as the current began to ebb away, his body slowly relaxing as the sparks ceased jumping from Mia’s fingers to his head.

Through barely opened eyes, Dean watched her pull her hands away, licking her fingertips as the last of the tiny flashes disappeared.

“Like I said, Dean. Slowly and deliciously,” she murmured.

Exhausted and lacking the strength to resist, Dean could only sit there limply as she leaned in closer, her lips mere inches from his own.

“You’ve some blood on you lip. Let me kiss it away for you,” Mia offered seductively.

The young hunter pulled away, but she bent in nearer, her own chest pressing in on his laboring lungs. Closing his eyes, Dean refused to make eye contact with the female demon as she moved toward him.

With nothing but his own pounding heart and gasping breath echoing in his ears, Dean’s eyes flew open with Mia’s sudden yelp of pain. Her weight on his lap just as quickly disappeared as the young woman vaulted from atop him. She stumbled backwards, her hands clasped to her chest as she sputtered in shock.

“You bastard…” she snarled breathlessly as a small coil of smoke rose from between her breasts.

Dean looked down his body, spotting the amulet that was slowly fading back to its golden hue, its edges still coal-black from where it had come in contact with Mia.

“I told you to get off me you dumb bitch!” he snidely repeated, silently gloating that the ancient talisman had saved him once more.

She shrieked like a banshee, lunging toward the counter and grabbing one of the knives from the line of implements. Whirling back around, she was on top of him again almost instantly, the edge of the blade inches from the center of his chest.

“You think that’s funny? See how hilarious you think it is when I cut out your heart and feed it to you,” she snarled, pressing the tip closer.

Dean leaned forward purposely, feeling the sharp point bite into his skin. “DO IT!” he sneered.

“I will,” she countered, her eyes blacker than the Impala as she drew her arm back in an arc above his head.

Dean stared at her defiantly, his head held firmly as he waited for her to plunge in blade.

Both demon and hunter startled simultaneously as the loud crash of the front door swinging open and slamming into the interior wall broke the intensity of the moment. Dean tore his glance away from Mia to focus on the abrupt commotion.

Standing silhouetted in the opening, he saw his father, the elder Winchester towering as he stepped over the piece of doorjamb that lay where he’d kicked in the door.

Restrained, Dean felt the air sucked out of his lungs as fear filled him seeing his dad standing in the same spot where the police officer had met his grotesque demise.

“Dad!” he exclaimed, his voice a mixture of relief and warning.

“You’re early,” Mia growled, standing between Dean and John, the blade held overtly in front of her.

“I’m here aren’t I? I came like you demanded, now let my son go,” John calmly answered.

Dean watched his father take a cautious step forward, raising his hands in the air in submission.

“Let Dean go. You can do whatever you want to me. Hell, I probably deserve it,” the elder hunter acquiesced.

“NO!” Dean shouted. “Dad, what are you doing?”

“Dean,” John spoke softly. “I’m doing this for you. I can’t stand by knowing that you might pay the price for what I’ve caused. I just won’t!”

“No, Dad, you can’t. Kill her now, she killed Sammy. She’s planning on killing us both,” Dean pleaded.

Ignoring his appeal, John coolly stepped inside further, reaching for the door and shutting it behind him. Across the room, Dean strained against his bonds as he watched his father seal their fate. He couldn’t stand seeing his dad giving in, deep-down condemning himself for getting tangled up with Mia in the first place.

“No, please,” he groaned, pulling against the twine and feeling the thin line grate against the bone in his wrist.

“Aw, John, isn’t that so sweet, hearing your son beg?” Mia taunted as she casually stepped closer to the Winchester patriarch.

“Let him go, Mia. I came like you asked. None of this is his fault, it never was.”

She laughed, shaking her head as she stalked him, the knife twirling in her hand.

“Ah, it’s not gonna be so easy, Johnny. You owe me, you owe me big time and I’m going to collect… in blood,” Mia hissed.

“I know you don’t believe me, but what happened to your family back in eighty-five, I was only trying to help,” he explained.

“Help?” she screeched, “Your idea of helping destroyed my entire family. They’re all dead because of you, you sonofabitch!”

“It wasn’t like that, you don’t know what happened back then. It was your mother that killed your father and brothers. She was possessed. I tried to save her but I got here too late, that’s my only crime. I tried everything I could to save your mother. I did my best to save you,” John explained.

“Save me? Ha! You helped me out just fine, John. You made me what I am.”

“I’m sorry…” the elder hunter offered.

“I’m not,” she sneered, her irises instantly reverting to black. “I like what I am. I love the power I have.”

“This isn’t what you mother wanted for you, Mia. She fought hard to save you, to protect you from the thing that was possessing her,” John explained.

“Quit trying to blame it all on my mom, you bastard. I know what happened here, I know their blood is on your hands. Just like Sam’s, just like Dean’s will be. You’re responsible for my brothers deaths, it’s only fitting that you repay with the lives of your sons.”

“I won’t let you kill Dean,” John insisted.

“You can’t stop me,” Mia snapped back.

“Kill her, Dad, just kill her now. Don’t worry about me,” Dean begged.

As his father and Mia continued their verbal dance, Dean fervently worked on the ropes around his wrists. He’d managed earlier to slip the base of his thumb underneath the tight bindings, struggling again now, he nearly had the digit completely free.

Gotta get free! Gotta help Dad before that bitch kills him…

The words repeated in his head, even as he listened to the exchange between his father and the demon-hybrid, Dean focused only on that single mantra.

“Take her out, Dad,” Dean repeated fearfully, watching as Mia moved closer to his father.

“Shut up!” Mia yelled, spinning around on him even as Dean pulled his right hand free with an agonized grimace, blood from his lacerated wrist splattering across the floor as the bindings fell off.

Seeing that her captive was now released, Mia jerked her head in Dean’s direction, smiling with satisfaction as he was lifted, chair and all, and forcefully thrown through the nearby wall. The resulting crash of flesh and bone through wood and drywall radiated throughout the rundown house, dust and debris filling the empty living room with a cloying haze.

*****

“DEAN!” John screamed, lunging forward as his eldest disappeared into the rubble.

Before he could race to his downed son, Mia stepped in front of him, the huge blade raised threateningly.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she demanded. “I’m not done with you yet.

John ignored her, so focused on looking for Dean. He wanted some sign, any movement, that might indicate his eldest had survived the brutal collision. But even as he struggled to look past her, past the debris that lay strewn between the two rooms, Mia sauntered up closer, lightly running the edge of the knife across his back.

He felt the sting of the metal slice through his shirt, biting into his flesh as it left a red-hot trail of blood and pain across his lower back. John held firm, refusing to show the pain, refusing to give her the satisfaction. Still worried about Dean, he didn’t even look at the young woman as she continued to circle him like a shark.

“I knew you’d come for your sons,” Mia smirked. “I knew they’d be the perfect bait.”

“Please, just let me check on Dean. I swear I won’t try anything, just please let him go,” John pleaded.

“Beg for me, John. Beg me for Dean’s life and just maybe, I’ll put him out of his misery quick.”

“Mia, I’m sorry. Please! I never meant for any of this to happen. I never meant for things to turn out the way they did. You have to believe me, I was trying to save your family, but I was young and green. My only crime is that I didn’t know enough,” the hunter argued.

“Beg me,” she repeated. “Beg me or so help me I’ll drag his body back out here and skin him like a dead deer.”

“I won’t beg you to kill my son,” John adamantly refused.

“I’ll feed his flesh to you while his guts are still warm…”

“No! You won’t,” he yelled back, lunging for her.

She recoiled slightly, stepping to the side even as she waved her hand at him, instantly freezing him in place.

“Nice try, Johnny, but I think those hunter reflexes are getting just a tad slow with age,” she said mockingly.

He struggled futilely, his limbs paralyzed in place, his feet cemented to the floor. Powerless, John couldn’t resist as Mia crossed in front of him, running the knife down the front of his chest and smiling with glee as a thin line of blood appeared in its wake.

“I hate you, John Winchester,” she growled, crimping her eyes tightly as she focused her power on the helpless hunter.

John felt himself elevated off the floor, his feet dangling limply several inches off the threadbare carpeting.

“Kill me, just let Dean go,” he begged.

“Is that your last request?” Mia asked. “It sounds like it to me.”

An invisible hand clamped around his neck and John felt the air to his lungs cut off as she began to suffocate him. Twisting against the unseen force that held him, he could do little more than gag and gasp as his throat was crushed.

“Is the air a little thin? You’re not looking so good old man,” Mia taunted as she watched from behind jet-black eyes.

Blood seeped from the corners of John’s mouth, vessels within his trachea rupturing and filling his already constricted throat with a thick sanguineous mixture. His eyes began to roll back in his head as he succumbed to asphyxia.

Mia watched him struggle then begin to quiet, a sadistic smile crossing her face as her lifelong nemesis was defeated before her. Yet as John faded into unconsciousness, her expression changed to concern.

“Nah, this is too easy, too quick. You don’t deserve quick and easy, John Winchester,” she said scornfully.

With another casual nod of her head, John’s body was catapulted across to the opposite side of the room, smashing into the fireplace and the unyielding brick. Around him, the dry plaster cracked and crumbled from the impact, showering down on him like a thick, arid rain.

Dazed, but now able to suck in a life-sustaining lungful of air, John lay still on the floor, Blood ran unabated from a large gash on his scalp, running down and mixing with the steady flow from another on his cheek. The side of his face was already bruising from striking the rough mantle and he could feel his right eye swelling as it threatened to shut.

He managed to get his right arm underneath his battered body, pressing down against the hard floor to help push himself to his feet. But the arm wouldn’t cooperate, collapsing under him as first numbness then pain shouted out to him from his shoulder down to his fingertips.

John rolled to his side, desperate to get to his knees, even more frantic to check on Dean. He didn’t care what she did to him, but he had to know that his eldest was alright.

“Where ya going, John?” Mia taunted, reaching down and pulling his head back with a rough jerk of his hair. “The party is just starting, you can’t leave now.”

Without being touched, John was dragged back to the center of the room, his damaged arm flopping limply as he moved across the floor. On his back, he stared up, panting heavily as he listened to Mia’s soft footfalls moving away from him. He couldn’t force his body to follow her, but as she continued her rant, he tracked the sound of her voice.

“Retribution, John. Do you understand the meaning of that word?”

The hunter listened as the clinking of metal on metal echoed across the room. He blinked against the pain that was ravaging his body, trying to see what she was doing, yet still focused on finding Dean.

“Revenge, payback, such base emotions, but hey, what can I say? You’ve made me what I am,” Mia called out from behind him.

John twisted his head, straining to see the hybrid demon as he listened to her hateful diatribe. In the dim light of the house, he saw something reflect a brilliant beam of light, watching as the flashes bounced from the ceiling to the nearby walls like light from a disco ball.

Another knife!

But this one was huge, larger even than the Ka-bar he’d carried in the Marines, even longer and more lethal looking than the massive Bowie he’d given to Dean several years back.

His eyes wide as he lay frozen in place on the floor, John watched as Mia sauntered back over and knelt down by his side. She dangled the long blade above his abdomen, waving it back and forth as though she were contemplating where to make her first plunge.

“They say payback’s a bitch, John, but sometimes she’s a demon too…” Mia snarled as she raised the knife above her head.

*****

Dean drowned in a sea of blackness, unconsciousness dragging him under even as pain washed over him in one wave after another. He struggled to the surface, regretting it almost instantly as alertness brought even more acknowledgement of the damage that had been done to him.

Everything hurt. From the top of his head down to his feet, Dean could catalogue nearly every muscle, joint and square inch of flesh by how much that particular area hurt. Still, pain meant life and considering his last coherent thought had been how much the wall was going to hurt when he hit it, Dean was fairly happy that he was alive, albeit cloaked in darkness.

The lack of vision scared the young hunter as he fought to become alert, his heart banging like a bass drum as thoughts of blindness teased at the edge of his mind. Scrubbing furiously at his eyes, the fine grit and dust from the wall debris clung tenaciously to his face. It mixed with blood that was streaming down from a cut above his forehead, matting his long lashes and cementing his lids shut as effectively as glue.

Frantic to see, even more desperate to get back to his father, Dean rubbed furiously at his eyes, ignoring the agony as his wrists flexed back and forth. Briefly robbed of his sight, the hunter’s other well-trained senses took over for the deficit.

“Dean…”

His name teased his ears like a soft breeze. The voice behind the call had a hint of familiarity, but Dean was so focused on getting back to his feet that he ignored it.

“Dean…”

More urgent this time but still barely more than an intense whisper, Dean heard his name once more. Yet now, the tone and the timbre stole his attention.

Sam?

It couldn’t be… his brother was dead.

Unable to see, Dean struggled to track the voice. His heart was screaming for him to look up and see his younger sibling standing there, but his mind reinforced that it was probably just Mia.

“Demons lie, Dean…” his brain reminded him.

“Dean… come on dude, I need you to open your eyes.”

Rolling onto his back, the young hunter’s eyes flew open at the command. Wetness glistened as he stared up at his brother and for a moment he still wasn’t convinced that Sam was real.

“Is this Hell?”

“No, it’s Texas,” Sam returned with a slight grin as he knelt down.

Dean was silenced with emotion and pinned by the remaining rubble of the destroyed wall. Fighting to rise up, he was hampered by the remnants of the chair that were still tied to his ankles by way of the obstinate twine.

Vaguely, he felt Sam tugging near his feet as his sibling flipped open his pocketknife and snapped through the remaining bindings. A second later, Sam’s strong arm was behind his shoulders, gently but firmly lifting him up until Dean was standing, even if it was with a distinct list to one side.

“Sammy…” he began. “I thought… she said…”

Dean’s head went down, unable to voice the same dreaded fear he’d endured for the past couple of days while listening to Mia’s unending assurance that Sam was dead. He wobbled briefly and Sam’s hand was instantly there to steady him.

“What happened to you? Mia said she… well, I heard that truck…, why - how are you here?” Dean stammered.

“It doesn’t matter right now, just suffice it to say that I was tougher than Mia thought,” Sam answered.

Mia!

Memory rushed back to the injured hunter and Dean bolted erect as he looked about the destroyed kitchen, seeking some sign of his father.

“Dad… she’s got Dad,” Dean warned, panic tingeing his voice.

Side by side, the brothers charged back into the decrepit living room, both nearly skidding to a stop as they came upon the hybrid demon kneeling over their downed father. Dean shouted out her name as he saw her hand held high in the air, the enormous knife glinting in her hand as it hovered over John’s chest.

“NO!” Sam yelled, his hand whipping up with a .45 cocked and ready to fire.

Mia looked up as the siblings abruptly entered the room, spotting Sam first and the pistol he had trained on her. She laughed loudly, her hand dropping slowly to her side as she lowered her weapon and backed away.

“You just don’t know how to die like a good little victim, do you?” she sneered.

“You just underestimate Winchester determination,” Sam threw back.

As they traded insults, Dean moved to John’s side, offering his own blood-coated hand down to lift his dad to his feet. Once standing, John pulled the worn silver flask from the inside pocket of his jacket, unscrewing the cap as he prepared to douse the demon with Holy Water.

“Now John,” Mia warned, her attention still focused on Sam as she held her ground. “Do you really think that’s gonna hurt me at all?”

“Seems like you could use a good bath in something, bitch. I’ve had to sit here smelling your stink for the past two days,” Dean snarked.

“Funny, Dean! Too bad I don’t have the time to laugh at your little jibe,” she answered.

With a casual nod of her head, John and Dean were flung across the living room once more, crashing into opposite walls and sliding limply to the floor.

Sam cast a quick glance over first to his brother then his dad, making sure that both were relatively all right before he took a determined step toward Mia.

“You’re done with your little game of revenge, Mia,” he growled. “It’s ending here, tonight.”

“And who’s gonna stop me? Them? You? I don’t think so. This is all working out perfectly. Now I get to kill both of John’s boys right before his very eyes, starting with you!” she screamed.

Waving her hand in Sam’s direction, the younger hunter waited for the impact but it never came. Instead, when he looked back up, he saw the confused look on the brunette’s face as she narrowed her eyes and tried once more to launch him across the room.

Sam laughed deeply. Looking back at the young woman, he cleared his mind and focused all his concentration into one mental action.

Mia hissed like angry snake, her feet kicking furiously in mid-air as she was raised several feet off the ground. Pinned by an invisible force and elevated, she could manage nothing more than to rage like a demented marionette.

“You bastard! Do you think this little trick is going to stop me?” she shouted.

“No, but I bet this is gonna hurt like hell,” Sam replied, his own head nodding first toward Mia and then the front wall.

The demon was flung effortlessly across the dimly lit space, colliding with the remains of the front door and impacting the jamb with a resounding thud.

From the corner of his eye, Sam saw John and Dean rise up from the floor, the elder hunter reaching again for the flask of precious fluid as he made his way toward the downed woman. Dean trailed just behind his father, retrieving another knife from the line of tools Mia had placed on the counter earlier.

“Sammy, you okay?” he called out, glancing back over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m good. Watch her!” he warned.

But the warning came a fraction too late as the ceiling above their heads began to crack, large chunks of plaster and flooring beginning to rain down on the threesome.

“Sam, look out!” Dean shouted as a larger piece split away and fell toward his brother.

He dove toward his younger sibling in an effort to protect him from the collapsing ceiling, but too many days without food and the subsequent abuse suffered at the demon’s hands made him a fraction slow. Dean could only watch as the huge piece of plaster plummeted toward Sam.

The young psychic looked upward at his brother’s warning, spotting the falling debris and lunging off to the side. He almost managed to avoid the heavy material… almost, as a chunk of rubble caught his left shoulder, glancing off but managing to knock the automatic from Sam’s hand.

Worse than losing the handgun, the distraction broke Sam’s concentration as he dove to stay clear of the breaking ceiling. In that moment, Mia was free, dropping to the floor and landing like a cat as Sam’s hold on her was broken.

Dean charged for his brother’s lost 9mm, his undamaged hand closing around the grip even as Mia screamed in defiance at the hunters. He sprang to his feet, his finger rapidly pulling on the trigger even as the brunette was dodging clear of the oncoming bullets.

“Missed me!” she sneered, rolling off her shoulder and back to her knees.

John took the opportunity to move in from behind, his arm sweeping in an arc as he threw the contents of the flask at the demon.

Mia screeched as the Holy Water soaked her back, the liquid hissing as smoke rose from her body. She whirled around to face the elder Winchester, her eyes flashing black even as she laughed.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” she taunted, using her demonic power to drop John to the floor.

“We’re just getting started,” Dean returned from across the room. He dropped the empty weapon and rushed to the counter where Mia’s earlier-placed knives were lying silently. Grabbing the largest of them, he advanced on the woman.

“Oh, I don’t think so…” Mia challenged him.

Like the night in the cabin, Dean felt himself thrown against the nearby wall, the knife clattering to the floor as his body was pinned rigidly against the plaster. The pressure on his body was incredible, his head and chest feeling as though he’d been caught in some gigantic invisible vise.

Blood began to flow from Dean’s nose, trickling down the side of his face to meet the stream that had started from the corner of his mouth. As the force holding him increased, the hunter gasped in agony, suddenly remembering the young officer and the man’s horrifying death.

He struggled against her hold, fighting to survive even as the sound of a rib cracking within his chest signaled that she was well on her way to crushing him.

“Take a look, John,” she called over her shoulder to the downed father. “Say goodbye to Dean.”

“I don’t think so!” another voice interrupted.

Through blurred vision, Dean saw Sam rise up from the floor, bits of debris dropping from his brother’s six foot four frame. Standing there, bruised and bloody, his sibling looked strong and defiant, his posture firm as he challenged the hybrid.

From his vantage point, Dean couldn’t see if Sam so much as blinked, but instantly Mia was propelled backwards, pinned in a similar fashion to the opposite wall. Her control broken, Dean dropped to the floor, greedily sucking in huge gulps of air as the force on his body abruptly ceased.

“How’s it feel, Mia?” Sam posed sarcastically even as the blood began to flow from her mouth and nose as it had Dean’s moments before.

The female demon thrashed, her head tossing wildly back and forth as she fought against the unseen energy being used against her. She snarled like a trapped animal, her eyes glowing with fury as she glared at Sam.

As Mia was held, caught in Sam’s psychic snare, John advanced on her again. From across the shambles of the living room, Dean pulled himself to his knees, eager to help his father and brother put an end to the woman.

Sam remained still, his face a expressionless mask as he concentrated on holding Mia in place. From the corner of his eye, he saw John cast him a wary look even as his father moved in on Mia.

He knew he was freaking the hell out of his dad. For that matter, Sam was pretty sure he was freaking the hell out of himself. But whatever the source or cause of his power, right now all that mattered was that he was keeping Mia at bay.

Somethin’ up with those demonic Spidey Senses of yours, huh Sammy?

Dean’s words haunted him, but still Sam focused.

“Accept you’re a freak…” his subconscious whispered.

“So what if I am… if I can save my family, then what difference does it make?” he answered silently.

Mia’s scream brought Sam back to the task at hand. Looking back at the brunette, he saw that she was now bleeding profusely from nearly every orifice on her head, blood covering her face in a macabre mask.

“Hold her, Sam,” John yelled, as he hurried to complete the Devil’s Trap he was drawing on the floor beneath Mia’s elevated feet.

“Finish her off,” Dean called from behind him.

KILL HER… kill her…killher…killer…

The harsh voice shouted in the back of Sam’s head, tempting him to avenge all the pain and suffering that Mia had inflicted not only on him and Dean, but all the other innocent people she’d killed throughout her bloody quest for revenge. He was pretty sure he hated her, despised her for what she had done to them, knowing that the damage she’d inflicted on his older brother was far more than physical. But still, he wasn’t a killer… was he?

He blinked rapidly, pulling in a cleansing breath to settle himself. Seeing that his Dad was nearly finished, Sam strained to maintain his focus.

Mia screamed again in fury then went ominously silent. All three hunters looked on her, startled by the sudden lack of resistance.

As they watched, her eyes shaded over black. Unlike before, the oily hue covered not just her irises but the entire white conjunctivae. She reared back her head, a long low laugh seeping from between her blood-tinged lips.

Pulling away from the wall, her feet slowly settling on the floor as John drew back from his work, Mia looked from one Winchester to the next. If a moment before she had seemed fearful, now that look was replaced by determined evil.

Silence bathed the room as hunters and hunted waited for the next move.

It came in the form of brilliant light, emanating from Mia as though she were the epicenter of some star about to go supernova. Father and sons simultaneously lifted arms to shield their faces from the harshly cast glare.

Another heartbeat and the silence was broken by the deep rumble that echoed from the joists and trusses that framed the house. Shaking as though an earthquake were striking, the condemned building tore from its foundations, the ceiling cracking above their heads even as the walls bulged inward. Drywall began to crumble as the house screamed in its death throes, boards splitting as aged nails popped out and flew like missiles about the room.

Dean yelled out a warning, finally rising to his feet even as debris from the faltering structure began to rain down on him. Through the haze of dust, he could barely make out Mia, the light spilling out from her still blindingly bright.

Memories of the jail roared through the elder brother’s head. He knew firsthand what the demon could do having barely escaped the collapse of the Warner lockup.

“Sam! Dad!” he shouted above the din. “We gotta get outta here before she brings the place down on top of us.”

Despite Dean’s warning, Sam didn’t budge. As more of the house fell down around them, the psychic poured all his effort into counteracting Mia’s power. Determined to reflect the demon’s building-crushing force back on her, he barely registered his brother’s frantic call.

Sweat beading on his forehead, Sam strained to push back on the deranged woman’s demonic force. Single-minded in his action, he knew that his family was in danger if he couldn’t stop Mia. With a deep breath, he tensed his body and closed his eyes.

“Sammy!” Dean shouted again. He could barely see his brother through the cloud of dust and plaster, yet beyond him, Dean saw Mia jerked backwards, the self-assured smile on her face giving way to a worried frown.

She looked weakened. Either by the amount of energy she was expending to attack them or by whatever Sam was doing to her, Dean could see that the hybrid was faltering.

“SAM… NOW!” he yelled once more. Lunging for his brother, Dean just missed Sam’s muscular arm as a strong wind pushed him back.

Dimly, Dean could hear his father yelling for both his sons, but all around him the house was crumbling inward, obscuring his view of either Sam or John. He covered his head as a large piece of wood collided with his upraised arm, gouging out a chunk of flesh as it continued its path.

Trying to stand, desperate to reach Sam, Dean could barely draw a knee underneath him as both the debris and the growing wind assaulted him. Ready to make one more attempt at grabbing his baby brother, he looked up to see a wall of circulating dust spinning around his sibling’s body.

It was like a mini-tornado, the peculiar wind gaining speed and intensity as it rose upward, collecting falling rubble in its cylindrical rotation. It reminded him of California and Nathan Cole… except…

As Dean stared, the twister rose above Sam, his sibling looking upward as he watched the strange zephyr gaining strength.

Sammy’s doing this?

The thought had barely entered Dean’s mind when everything around him exploded.

The loud blast pierced his eardrums as the wind climaxed and the old house surrendered to the demonic onslaught. The last of the roof collapsed in even as the walls blew outward, burying the occupants in the remnants of wood, drywall, and wires.

And then everything went silent…

Seconds passed as dust settled like fine snowflakes. Nothing moved, no other noise rose from the debris.

Eventually, Dean lifted his head, carefully running the back of his arm across his face as he silently feared what he would see among the ruins. His eyes open, he could hardly conceive the sight that greeted him.

The house was gone. The walls, the windows, everything that defined the former residence now lay in a smoking heap all around him.

Around him… and around his father and brother. Not on top… not burying them in a bone-crushing tomb.

It didn’t seem possible, yet Dean was forced to gratefully admit that they were all still alive as first Sam and then John slowly rose from beneath the last pieces of building materials.

“Sammy?” he called out tentatively. “You okay?”

He watched as his brother stood, dusting off his clothes as he seemed to be taking stock of his body.

“Yeah… I guess I am,” Sam eventually admitted.

“Dad?” Dean called out, twisting slightly from his seat among the rubble.

His dad stood wavering, blood mixing with dirt and covering most of his face and upper body from the dozens of cuts that crisscrossed his form. He smiled wanly as he looked back to Dean, nodding to convey his “okay-ness.”

The three managed to meet together in what had been the center of the living room, Winchester blood and sweat covering them as they stood and gaped at the battlefield that had been the former Collins home. No one spoke, each of them still processing what had just happened.

“Mia? Where’s Mia?” Dean asked finally.

But as they each fervently looked for signs of the female demon, a soft voice whispered among the destroyed house.

“Mine…”

Dean twitched, looking to see if either his brother or father had heard the single word.

“She’s gone,” Sam announced.

They stood there a moment longer, quietly taking in the scene until the distant sound of sirens tore them from their silent introspection.

“We gotta get out of here. Right now,” John instructed with a groan.

Dean moved to his father’s side, gently placing an arm underneath John’s armpit as he draped the older man’s arm across his shoulder. Between the two of them, father and son staggered through the remains of the front door and out onto the remaining porch.

“The truck and Impala are still here,” Sam informed as he looked down the street in both directions. “I don’t know where she went, how she got away.”

“Who gives a damn? The bitch is gone for now and we’re alive. Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth,” Dean answered with derision.

They slowly made their way to the waiting vehicles, John conceding his ability to drive and tossing his youngest the keys to the dark truck. Dean coerced his father into riding with him in the Chevy, determined not to take “no” for an answer. He would rather have had them all together in the same vehicle, the threat of Mia coming after them ever present in his mind… but for right now this would have to do and at least they were all together again, if not separated by a couple of car lengths.

Once inside, Dean turned the key and exhaled a sigh of relief as the engine came to life and the comforting familiarity of the Impala warmed him. He could still smell Mia’s perfume wafting throughout the classic car, the odor reminding him of the woman and every one of her dark deeds.

“Gonna need to fumigate the car,” he mumbled.

“Huh?” John returned as he slumped against the passenger’s side door.

“Nothing. Are you good? Do we need to go to a hospital?” Dean asked, concerned by the pale look of his father’s face underneath the mask of drying blood and rising bruises.

John remained silent for a short time, his gaze fixed through the windshield and his truck that was peeling away just ahead of them.

“Nah, I’m fine,” he softly answered. “I got my sons back. I got you… and Sam,”

Dean heard the delayed response, saw the worried look that crossed his father’s face as he stared at Sam in the truck out in front.

He knows…he saw… and he’s worried. About Sam…about his powers.

“Dad…” Dean began. “He’s not a freak, ya know. What he did back there…he saved our lives.”

It took a moment more before John replied. “I know,” he admitted ruefully. “I know.”

Motel 6,
Benbrook, TX

Dean stretched, hating the increase in pain as muscles and flesh protested the movement. Still, he was feeling better overall. A full meal, a couple of cold beers and his wounds cleaned and freshly bandaged had combined with a hot shower to make the elder brother as comfortably numb as his recent experiences would allow.

Across the room, Sam had slid down in the overstuffed chair, his long legs extended out beyond the limits of the ottoman. He quietly sipped the beer in his hand, cautiously watching as his brother squirmed gingerly on the full-sized bed.

They normally didn’t enjoy accommodations quite like these. Not that the motel was the Hilton, but compared to the brothers’ usual choices, it was definitely plush, if not at least relatively clean. John had insisted, handing Sam a small roll of cash to pay for the rooms as he and Dean waited in the Impala.

It took them a couple hours to get clean and patched up, Sam doing most of the repairs as he first stitched the myriads of lacerations covering his father and brother, then splinting and taping Dean’s fractured hand into place after checking on John’s bruised but not broken arm. All the while, Dean watched his brother. Looking for some sign that his silent sibling was coping with everything that had happened, Dean struggled to find the necessary words to apologize to Sam for nearly getting him killed.

I thought you were dead… what would I have done if you had been?

“Should we check on Dad?” Sam now asked, breaking the silence that had settled over the motel room.

Dean looked up, still lost in the miasma of his guilt-ridden mind. “Nah. I’m sure he’s okay. He just wanted to sleep. You did salt the door and windows in his room didn’t ya?”

“Yeah, first thing when I got here,” Sam replied. “Do you think she’ll come after us again?”

The older hunter considered the question as he twisted the beer bottle absently in his hand. He glanced nervously at the .45 lying on the nightstand next to him and the lines of salt that bordered the entrances to the room.

“I dunno. I’m sure she will, she hates us that much,” he replied. “She certainly isn’t the type of person to give up easily.”

“She’s not a person at all,” Sam reminded.

Dean nodded, “Yeah…”

“I know Dad feels responsible for her, for everything, but it really isn’t his fault. I don’t think anything would have changed what Mia became,” Sam stated thoughtfully.

“No, it wasn’t his fault at all. He told me what happened back in eighty-five and after listening to her go on about how she grew up, there’s no denying that she or whatever created her was nothing but evil,” Dean admitted. “Still…”

“Still what? You feel sorry for her?” Sam cried out.

“NO! That’s not what I meant,” the older brother insisted.

“Then what, Dean?” Sam demanded.

Dean sucked in a deep breath. Deciding that there was never going to be a “good time” to clear the air about everything that had happened, he rubbed his forehead and forced himself to meet his brother’s insistent gaze.

“Sam, I’m… well… I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t nearly cover everything that went down between us, but you gotta know I never meant for any of this to happen,” he began.

“Dean…”

“No, Sammy, let me finish okay. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to you… I’m sorry that we fought and for all the things I said. I’m so sorry for leaving you behind that night…” Dean swallowed hard, unable to continue as memories of the roadside battle between Mia and Sam echoed through his mind.

“I never, never, meant for it to come down to picking her over you. You gotta know that you’re my brother and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I was just… well, I thought I loved her. I thought she really loved me…” he admitted as his voice quieted.

“I should have known better,” Dean continued. “I mean, come on…the life I lead… the things I do… I should have known it couldn’t have been real.”

“Dean… listen to me, really listen to what I’m about to say to you,” Sam interrupted.

Hazel eyes barely glance up from beneath downcast lids as the older sibling acquiesced.

“I wanted this to work out for you… I wanted you to be happy and I’m sorry that it turned out the way it did. Hell, I basically pushed you two together back there in Tennessee because I thought that Mia might really be the one. Dammit, you deserved to be happy. But Dean, she wasn’t what either of us thought. It wasn’t your fault that she lied to you, that she used you to bait in Dad,” Sam offered.

Dean shook his head. “No Sam, it is my fault. All of it! I should have known better and it almost cost your life and Dad’s.”

“Our job nearly kills us on any given day, Dean. You can’t be responsible for the fact that she was out for revenge, determined to do whatever it took to get back at Dad. I mean, come on, it’s not like you were brainwashed or anything. She lied and she was a damn good actress.”

“I wish to hell that she had whammied me or something. At least then I could blame it on that and not just my own stupidity,” Dean admitted. “You’re right when you said I spend too much time thinking with the downstairs brain,” he added with a wry grin.

“I mean it, Dean. You can’t shoulder this all alone. Maybe I should have spoken up sooner, maybe I should have checked her out more. Hell, blame Dad too. He should have clued us in on what was going on when he got that call back at Bobby’s. Maybe then all of this could have been avoided,” Sam insisted.

Dean frowned, looking away as his chest hitched.

“Dude, I thought you were dead…” he choked.

“But I wasn’t…” Sam replied.

“I almost got us all killed…”

“We’re still alive…”

“I betrayed you…”

“I’m still your brother, Dean. Nothing changes that. Not some stupid fight, not some demon hybrid, nothing. Do you get that?”

Dean looked back at his brother, noticing that Sam had sat up straight and was leaning forward in the chair. His brother’s face was firmly serious, Sam’s blue-green eyes peeking out from under his shaggy hair as he sought to make eye contact with Dean.

“Sam, I…”

“No Dean. I won’t accept your apology because you don’t owe me one, pure and simple. After all the times you’ve stood by my side, picked me up after Jess, helped me deal with this freakish power of mine…”

“You’re not a freak, Sam. And I never meant to say that your powers or whatever they are, were demonic,” Dean apologized.

“Yeah, well that remains to be seen,” Sam answered quietly.

“You saved our asses, dude. I don’t know how you did that bit at the end and I don’t care. If it weren’t for you, we’d be toast.”

“It scares the crap out of me sometimes. What I can do, what I might do,” the younger brother admitted.

“Now it’s your turn to listen, Sammy. You are not evil! Sure, who knows where your powers might have come from, but you’ve never used them for anything but good. You are not Mia. You’re not like any of them.” Dean assured him.

“I know that, I guess.”

A soft knock at the door startled both of them, Dean instantly reaching for his Colt as a .45 appeared in Sam’s hand.

Covering his brother, Dean watched as Sam carefully cracked the door open letting light from the motel walkway sneak into the room.

“Demons don’t generally knock,” John’s voice advised from behind the door.

Sam laughed and Dean released the breath he’d been holding as their father slowly and stiffly entered the room. He took the seat Sam had vacated while the youngest Winchester dropped onto the bed next to Dean’s.

“A little nervous, eh boys?” John snarked.

“You taught us to be cautious,” Sam threw back.

“That I did,” the sage hunter agreed. “So why the serious looks?”

Dean laughed nervously. He’d been waiting for the lecture from his dad about getting involved with Mia. He’d let the woman use him and that nearly got them all killed. He was sure his dad would have something to say about the near-fatal slip.

“Sam and I were just talking…” Dean began.

“No doubt apologizing to each other I s’pose?”

“Something like that,” Sam answered.

“Yeah, well, that’s why I came over here,” John explained.

“What? To tell us how we screwed up?” Sam asked defensively.

Dean tensed, waiting for either his father’s condemning criticism or his brother to launch into an argument.

Neither happened.

“I just wanted you both to know that all of the blame for this lies with me. I know you’re both sitting there trying to shoulder responsibility for what happened with Mia, but the truth is, ultimately, it’s my fault,” John stated straightforwardly, his hands clasped together as he looked back and forth between both his sons.

“I know I should have told you about that phone call a few months ago. I know if I would have told you about Mia then maybe you would have been on the look-out for her. Let’s face it, if I’d known what I was doing back in eighty-five, maybe she would never have existed.”

“You did the best you could, Dad. You didn’t make Mia what she is,” Sam assured his father.

“And it wasn’t anyone’s fault but mine that she got so close. You taught me better and I screwed up,” Dean admitted, looking away as he fumbled with the edge of the tape that splinted his damaged fingers together.

John shook his head as he rose up from his seat. He crossed over to stand between the two beds, holding out his own bandaged arms toward his sons.

“That’s enough!” he ordered gently. “None of this really matters. I nearly lost both of you… again. I swore I’d never go through what I did in Wyoming and then it almost happened again now in Fort Worth. There’s too much at stake now, too much evil out there hunting for us. We’re a family, if we can’t count on each other, trust each other, then we’ve lost.”

“Dad… about trusting each other…” Sam slowly added.

“Sam,” John interrupted. “I trust you.”

“But the things I did back there...”

“Son, didn’t you hear what I just said? The things that are out there, the dark evil things that are trying to tear humanity apart, they don’t play fair. We don’t have many advantages, so maybe this is how things balance out in our favor,” John suggested.

“But what if I become one of those things?” Sam questioned.

“No way, Sammy,” Dean interjected, steadfastly sticking up for his baby brother.

With a wave of his hand John silenced both of his sons. “I trust you, Sam. I trust what you’re doing, both of you. We have to stick together, now more than ever,” he advised, the vivid image of Lucifer staring down on his lifeless sons intertwining with Mia’s sadistic laugh as she threatened Dean.

“Mia’s out there somewhere,” Dean quietly added, staving off the cold shiver that set the hair on the back of his neck on end.

“A psychotic bitch of a demon that can destroy a building with the flick of her hand or kill a person with a nod is out there somewhere gunning for us… yeah, just what we need,” he added silently.

“We beat her once, we’ll be ready for her the next time,” Sam replied confidently.

“But if she’s not truly possessed, how do we stop her?” Dean asked, looking between his father and brother.

“We’ll find a way,” John promised. “But until then, we seriously have to watch our backs.”

The room grew silent, each man considering the implications of John’s warning. Outside a brilliant flash of lightning signaled the beginning of a late spring storm. Yet as the responding thunder shook the motel causing the window and door to rattle, none of the hunters could mask the startled shudder that overtook them.

“It’s just a thunderstorm,” Sam assured with a nervous laugh.

Dean joined him with a wan grin, but in the back of his mind, the image of a beautiful brunette with sparkling brown eyes gave way to Mia’s sadistic laughter and demonic black orbs.

She was out there…

Sooner or later, she would come back…

The End

Comment/Review the episode here

E-Mail the Author!

The Winchester Chronicles