Roswell Fanatics

Hi, guys! I’ve had this little plot bunny hopping around for a while now, but I’d had no chance to write it down. RL, you know. I finally got a chance, so here you go. Hope you like it!


Title: Untitled (at the moment)
Author: Yingfa
Rating: Mature
Series: Supernatural/Roswell
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing that you recognize. Some incredibly lucky people own each of these series, with all of their respective characters and settings.
Couple: Undecided
Summary: What if things had ended differently at Cold Oak, South Dakota? What if Sam had been saved, by someone else?


Dean had learned at his father’s knee how to recognize a killing blow from a flesh wound. You had to take into account the weapon, the angle of entry, the speed and force behind the blow, and another hundred little details that he’d learned to judge at a single glance. It had taken a little time and practice for the lessons to sink in to the point that his measuring had become instinctive, but sink in they had.

It was going to be a killing blow.

It was going to be a killing blow, it was going to sink into soft flesh and muscle and it was going to destroy everything in the knife’s path and, in that single, terrible instant, it was going to destroy Dean’s life.

Because the blow was aimed at the most important part of said life, at the very core of it, at all that was left from his family. At his baby brother’s, Sammy’s, unprotected back.

He could see relief and joy in those familiar dark eyes, could see how his warning shout turned their moonlighted glow into understanding and something so close to resignation that he wanted to cry. Because he was too far away, because he knew Sammy would never make the turn in time, because he knew he couldn’t stop what was coming. Because he had failed.

He still tried, though. His daddy had raised no quitters. He raced to his brother’s aid, Bobby one step behind him, even as he watched impotently the swing of the knife. He didn’t even have a way of aiming the gun in his hand, not with Sammy in the line of fire. All he could do was trust in the speed of his legs, trust them to get them to his brother in time to be of help. Even if he knew he wouldn’t be of any.

So the knife flashed in the meager light, the tall black man committed to the movement, and then, coming out of a seemingly empty patch of darkness, a stream of what looked like bright green lightning bolts impacted against the man’s torso and flung him back the way he’d come, half way down the field and nearly into a crumbling old barn.

Had he himself not been so committed into getting to his brother, Dean was sure he would have stopped his run and gaped, just like Bobby did. As it was, he flung himself at Sam and used his momentum to drag them both to the ground and roll them into the deep shadows cast by some nearby trees. From this meager hiding place, he tuned and aimed at the opposite side of the field. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bobby finally hit the deck and raise his gun, sighting on the black man.

She came out of the shadows like some sort of apparition. Deep dark hair, deep dark eyes, pale moon-kissed skin. Dressed in dark clothes and holding her tiny hands away from her body, there was still a loveliness about her, a sweetness, something that made him want to cuddle her against his side and protect her.

Had he not just seen what was packing under all that gamine prettiness, he might just have considered it. As it was, and until whatever her intentions on helping Sam were clear, she was still a threat.

-“I didn’t hit him very hard. He’s going to be up very soon and he’s going to be… upset. You might want to consider what you’d like to do with him. I promise I won’t move from here.”

Her voice was light, as sweet as the rest of her. Dean followed her progress midway towards where he and Sammy hid, and watched as she gracefully kneeled there, small hands trapped between her thighs and calves. Her small frame looked even tinier like that, even more fragile. She was steady and calm, though, even when Bobby stepped beside her and aimed his gun straight against her temple. Dean took up covering their other, more pressing target, even as he passed Sam his spare gun. Both of them took turns on the watch as they got to their feet and made their way towards where the guy lay.

-“His name’s Jake. He’s military. He’s super strong.”

Sam’s quick-fire fact sharing told Dean all he needed to know. They had no way of neutralizing this guy. If they let him go, he’d be coming after them, sooner or later. Heck, he didn’t even have to do it himself, all he had to do was point the cops or his military buddies their way. Leaving him here was also not an option. The demon would use him, add him up to his little flock and they’d be seeing him again. Either they killed, salted and burned him or they took him with them. And wasn’t that last one going to be a bitch with that super strength and with little Miss Flashbang to also look after.

Still, whatever the world thought about him, he wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. And the guy laying out cold looked barely older than Sam. Kids, all of them. Just kids trying to survive some twisted demonic game.
It took several minutes to tie the guy up to his satisfaction. He’d cramp like crazy, but he had no leverage and wouldn’t be going anywhere without their say so. Which would probably happen sometime after Dean managed to get the story behind the purple fuzzy handcuffs out of Bobby.

Even as they worked, Dean couldn’t help but keep an eye out on the girl. She didn’t move at all from the spot she had chosen, didn’t even try to talk to Bobby or distract them from their task. She just sat there, long tangled hair getting even more matted with dirt, unfocused dark eyes staring at something only she could see.

The trip to the car, they made in silence. Girly had allowed Sam to tie her hands, looking more amused than upset, and agreeably walked with a gun pointed at her head.

The Impala had never looked more beautiful or felt more like home, than when they finally reached her. His poor car had suffered to get them to this miserable piece of earth and he couldn’t even begin to think of what she was going to suffer in the way back to Bobby’s. Still, she had a lovely, sturdy trunk in which they could stow their most unwanted passenger and an ample enough backseat for their reluctant one.

Again, there were no complains. At most, vague amusement.

Well, at least until they reached the county’s limits.

It was almost as if she hadn’t expected them to be able to leave. The wideness of her eyes, the way she looked out the window and then at each of them. Her expression was incredulous and hopeful and terrified, all rolled into one.

-“What day is it?”

-“What?”

-“What day IS IT??”

-“Look, lady…”

-“Please! Just tell me WHAT DAY IS IT?”

-“May 2, 2007”

Her imitation of a puppet with its strings cut would have been funny if she didn’t look quite so devastated. It was almost as if Sam’s low words had just turned her world on its axis, shattered something inside her.

For the rest of the ride to Bobby’s, she kept quiet, nearly hiding in her small corner of the backseat, her eyes locked on the darkness outside the windows.

******************************

Dawn was breaking by the time the scrap yard came into view. A home away from home and, today, a dearly needed shelter.

Carting Jake into the house was no picnic, even with two of three of them carrying him. The girl and Sam carried his arms and Dean himself got the legs, but the tall psychic struggled all the way in and onto Bobby’s special, steel-reinforced chair. The older hunter kept a gun on both strangers at all times, as per Dean’s request, at least until they had the guy tied up, and then he’d marched off to check his salt lines and other protections.

The girl, they really needed to get her name, plopped herself down onto the couch and stared around herself with the same vacant eyes as before. Whatever was so surprising about the date, it had obviously given her quite a bit to think about.

In the better lightening of the room, she looked even worse for wear. Her skin, which had looked luminous in the moonlight, was so dirty it was impossible to tell its real shade. There was dirt beneath her broken fingernails, her clothes were dark out of the huge amount of stains that covered them and her shoes looked like they stayed on her feet simply by miracle. Her hair had looked tangled, but he could see it was matted with dirt and leaves and god knew what.

She was a poster girl for survivalist training, if there ever was.

Bobby came back soon, armed with enough holy water to drown them all and with enough questions to make the Inquisition proud. The problem was h was firing them so fast at her that she could barely get a word in at all. Apparently almost watching as a fellow hunter got killed had upset the guy.

-“Bobby, don’t you think you should give her a chance to answer?”

There went Sammy, the eternal pacifist. It got him a tiny look and a sort of smile out of her, and just the slightest relaxing form Bobby. Hell, Dean could feel himself relaxing. Having his kid brother here, where he knew he was safe, where they had some control, and having the kid act as normal? In his book, it was fucking perfection.

-“My name is Elizabeth.”

Sweet, with just the slightest hint of smoke. She still looked dazed, but at least she was coherent, and she had a nice voice.

-“I’m… I don’t… The last thing I remember, before, was going to sleep beside my husband. When I woke up, he was gone…. Well, I guess I was the one that was gone. I wasn’t in my bed, or in my home, nor anywhere I’d ever been to before. The room was dirty, with crumbling walls and broken windows. It was very cold and all I had on were some shorts and a camisole, the clothes I had gone to sleep with. It was as if I’d sleepwalked into the middle of nowhere.

“Through the window I could see other buildings, just as ruinous as the one I was in, and other people that were coming out of them. They looked as dazed, as terrified as I felt. I wanted to go to them, protection in numbers, you know, but something kept me back. Instinct, I guess.

“I watched them for a while, but they didn’t do much. Gathered some wood for a fire, tried to find some food, that kind of thing.

“That night… things changed. I don’t know what the others saw, what they were told… I only know what he… it, showed me. What it tried to make me believe.

“When I woke up, I realized I had a choice. I could do what it wanted… or I could choose my own path, my own fate.

“The others, I think they also had a similar choice to make. But what they choose… There were 5 others there with me. By sundown, there was only one other left.

“That kid, he was… gloating. He stole everything he wanted from the bodies and marched all over that place as if he were a newly crowned king.

“Once it was dark, I took a coat from one of the bodies and hid again. I didn’t want him to see me, I didn’t want to fight him or anyone else. I also knew that if I entered the fight without help, I would have to kill them all, would have to do as it wanted. The way my abilities were back then… I couldn’t control them well enough for things not to go that way. It would be either kill or let myself be killed.

“I know I sound like a terrible person, not trying to help them, but… I didn’t know what to do. During the day I tried to find food, at night I tried to keep it’s gloating from driving me insane, and in between I tried to figure out what was happening or how to make it stop.

“I tried to leave, more than once, but I always ended up where I’d started. There were no telephones, no cars and no weapons. All the water came from one well and food was left every few days near it.

“It took me days to search all the buildings, weeks to find the small stash of books under the planks in one of them. Books on magic and monsters and demons. Even some things no one would ever, could ever believe were true. I read them cover to cover, and then did it again and again until I started dreaming about reading them.

“It all started to make sense, twisted and awful sense, and through it all the nightmares and the new people and the killings never stopped.

“I… until you told me, tonight, what date it was, I had no idea of how much time had passed. I didn’t even know the year had changed. It all became a blur in my head, just the need to survive, to not cave in to its will, to just keep going.

“And then… then I saw you, saw you fight to protect them, saw you walk away from what could be your own killing field, your own victory… It was the first time anyone else had rebelled. The first anyone had dared to say no to its plans. And then I saw the knife, and all I knew was that I couldn’t let it end like that, and I just… just reacted. I… you were the first and I couldn’t let you die.”

Her eyes were desperate, terrified and even half insane. And she’d been drinking holy water like it was… well, water or alcohol… or like holding onto that glass was the only thing keeping her together, keeping her sane. Her small body shook with the stress, the tremors so hard it looked like her bones were trying to escape her body, like she’d rip apart at just the slightest touch.

And she was beautiful and horrifying, and so very desperate that she’d break anyone’s heart. Which she obviously did, because Dean’s decidedly stupid brother caved and hugged her before any of the older hunters could stop him.

Hi guys. I want to thank you all for your comments. I'm really motivated about this fic, enough that I managed to get out the next chapter today! Enjoy and tell me what you think.





Sam had always been a softy, prone to rescuing tree-trapped kittens and side-of-the-road-abandoned puppies, and Dean had always known it. Hell, he’d watched it drive his father up the wall often enough. In some aspects, he’d come to rely on that kindness, using it as the shield that protected his mind from the last task handed down from his Dad.

But Sam had always been smart, as well. Had known the dangers of the hunt, the trickery of evil, since he was so small Dean could cart him about like a limpet. And he was the one with the fucking college trained intellect.

And there he was, dropping the ball.

Dean’s instincts, as a hunter, as an older brother, reacted before he was even conscious of himself doing so. The gun was in his hand, barrel aimed, safety of, arm extended and prepared for the recoil, in a move so fast even Bobby ended up blinking at him. From the corner of his eye he caught Jake sitting up and taking notice, but his full attention centered on the sudden tenseness of Sam’s shoulders and the gentle way Elizabeth tipped her head sideways to press her temple more fully against the barrel.

She hadn’t moved before, he realized, hadn’t tried to return the hug, looked as surprised by it as he himself was. Sam though, seemed perfectly comfy with moving, as he shifted her unresisting body against his side in a half-hug and glared at Dean.

-“She’s not going to hurt me, Dean. She just saved my guts, I think killing me now might just defeat the purpose.”

-“Look, we don’t know her. I’m very thankful to her for saving you ass, but that little sob story’s just that: a story. Until we have a little proof we ain’t going to end up with a knife to the back, we are all keeping away from any touchy feely kumbaya-singing situation. Is that clear?”

Sam looked mutinous, Bobby was approving, Jake… he didn’t give a shit about. Girly, though, had gone a little limp against Sam, her shakes slowing a bit.

-“You’re right. I… you don’t know me, you can’t possibly know if I’m telling the truth.”

She pushed away from Sam, hands gentle against his brother’s shoulders, and leaned against the couch’s opposite arm.

-“All I can give you as guaranty is my gratitude. You got me out of there. I… Somewhere along the way, I’d given up. I expected to die there. I didn’t help your brother for any other reason than he didn’t deserve to die, and I…”

-“And those other people DID?”

Jake looked murderous, dark eyes all but spitting fire at her.

-“Did they deserve to die? Or to become murderers in exchange? You have power, I can still feel it burning up my skin, and yet you did nothing. You HID, you WATCHED as it all happened, and you did NOTHING! They could all still be alive if you’d HAD THE GUTS TO DO ANYTHING!!”

By the end of his little speech, Mister AWOL was all but hanging from his bindings, panting like a bull and looking like he was going to need a few more sets of handcuffs just to keep him in place a few more minutes.

Elizabeth simply stared at him, unblinking, for several seconds. She seemed to be trying to make a choice, if her expression was anything to go by, but seemed unhappy about her options. In the end, she made a disgruntled face and turned to Bobby.

-“Do you have an apple?”


******************************


They’d ended up with an orange, since apparently Bobby didn’t like apples. Who knew? Anyway, the orange ended up on a small stool, placed right in the middle of the room, and all three hunters ended up being kicked out to the doorway.

-“This is what I hit you with, back in Cold Oak.”

Hand extended over the unsuspecting fruit, Elizabeth closed her eyes in concentration.

This time, Dean felt it build. He’d thought the electric tingle and the way the little hairs on his arms stood on end had been sheer adrenaline, but now he recognized the building of electricity in the air. It built and built, until he was sure it must break, like a wave upon sand, and yet it was still growing, pressure rising through the air and focusing solely on the center of the room.

When the flash of green lightning came, it was a release, of sorts. Well, for everyone but the orange, which ended up looking a bit charred around the edges. Jake, who’d had a front row seat for the proceedings, looked a bit like he wanted to cross his legs and protect his… oranges. Elizabeth watched him impassively, perhaps waiting for her little lesson to sink in.

-“This is what things were like back when I arrived there, back when I had no control at all.”

The buildup was slower, but inexorable. Somehow, Dean could feel the difference. Last time, she’d been in control as she used her gift. This time, she was letting it control her, use her simply as a vessel.

All the men were unprepared when the streams of electricity began to flow ever her exposed skin. They could see the burns the light left in its path, uncaring of the flesh beneath. By the time it hit the orange, it was completely out of control.

The orange exploded.

Elizabeth went down to her knees, hard.

Jake got a boiled juice bath.

And Bobby would be redecorating.

Dean was ready when his brother tried to move into the room, and easily blocked his way. Sam still struggled against him, focused completely on the small girl that was busy trying to regain her breath. It bothered Dean, this sudden attack of mindless caring. It was like Sam and yet completely unlike him. It felt wrong, somehow.

-“Stop…. Stay… there. I’m ok.”

Elizabeth got to her feet by sheer will, body swaying in a way that told clearly she’d be going down again in seconds.

-“There’s one more thing to show.”

This time, her hand extended forth, palm straight forward. It started as a glow, and then there were sparks jumping from her fingertips. Jumping and spiraling between them, around her palm and again towards her fingertips, a miniature dance of lights. It expanded slowly; becoming a sphere around the size of a basketball, thousands of tiny sparks dancing in tandem, speeding up until only the blur of their passing could be seen.

It was a beautiful show and it was also a perfect example of control. It was a message as well, perfectly tailored to Jake: I could have killed you, but I didn’t. Could have allowed myself to lose this control, just one second, and splattered you all over that town. And just as I could have done it with you, I could have done it with any of them.

She was dangerous, more so than her appearance foretold, but she chose not to use that power against them. That was her message for the hunters’, the best proof she had that she meant them no harm. If she had, they would be dead by now. It didn’t meant she wasn’t a threat, but she wasn’t an immediate one.
The sphere vanished suddenly, simply snuffed out in the slight shake of one fragile looking wrist.
Both psychics in that room shared a long look, and then Elizabeth turned towards them. She marched out, down the corridor and into the kitchen, head held high.

She crumbled as soon as she was past the doorway.


******************************


They’d set her down for a nap in Bobby’s spare room, the one they usually crashed in. The sheets would probably need to be burned afterwards because, apparently, she’d had less access to water that those feral, murderous hillbillies from a way back. As it was, she was completely out of it. Stress, shock, whatever, had done a number on her system and that bought them some time to figure out what to do next.

They couldn’t keep Jake indefinitely. They still hadn’t figured out the demon’s plans. They needed to figure out what to do with the girl upstairs. They still didn’t know what had happened at the Roadhouse. There was simply too much that needed to be done, and there was both too little time and too few sets of hands to do it all.

Dean really missed his Dad. The old man would have known what to do, would have already been barking orders.

As it was, they tied up Jake some more, and planted their asses at the kitchen’s table for Sammy story time.

His brother’s story was similar and different from Elizabeth’s. Sammy didn’t remember much past entering the dinner with his brother’s demands for pie in his ears. He’d woken up at Cold Oak, hooked up with the other children, tried to save them… and then watched them kill each other. Ava’s fate, in which they’d had some hand, was not particularly comforting, even if she’d turned out to be quiet the bitch. Andy’s was even harder.

The end of it they knew and thus it was not retold, but Dean couldn’t help but feel that Sam was keeping back something. He spoke of dreams similar to Elizabeth’s but only vaguely mentioned their content. He could offer a few clues, though, towards the demon’s plans: to raise an army of his kind and unleash it upon the world, with one carefully selected psychic leader at the fore.

And wasn’t that enough to tickle anyone’s funny bone. They had all three “chosen ones” under one roof.

Still, they didn’t have much else to go on. Bobby had started some research before they left on their rescue mission, but he still didn’t have enough info. Sam could probably help with that, but his kid brother’s eyes were closing with exhaustion.

Perhaps it was time for an executive decision a la John Winchester.

Bobby’s first aid kit was well stocked (the thing wouldn’t have fit in a duffle even if Sam sat on it) and it was easy to load a syringe. Jake cussed at him for the injection, but… well, he hadn’t exactly asked for his opinion, and whatever made his family safer was good in his book. Still, he sat near the kid until he was sure and certain that he was out.

Then, he gave an equal shot to Elizabeth. She might not be as immediate a threat, but pretty girls had screwed them before. He wasn’t going to have another Meg episode in his hands if he could avoid it.

He and Sam ended up bunking in Bobby’s dining room, sharing space with an antique looking table covered in enough dust and books for Sam to be in geek heaven. It was quiet and comforting, laying near his living, breathing brother, and horrifying to know how close he had come to loosing it all.

He’d never again take it for granted.

Sleep took a long time coming.

Oops. I'm a bit motivated about this one. As you can see, I've already got another bit ready to go. It's just... flowing out, I guess. I could probably space them out a bit, if you'd like?

Just teasing

I... kinda like not having a fixed pairing. I have several plot ideas that can go either way and... Well, it gives me a chance to play (you'll see in a bit) in a way I'd not been able to in other stories.

And, my God, yes. They are cute, aren't they?

I'll let you go on now. Enjoy!







Waking up had always meant sudden alertness, being ready to move at a single second’s notice. Curl your hand around the handle of the knife beneath your pillow, don’t open your eyes straight away, use your senses to locate any possible enemies. No one, not Sam, not even his father, had gotten the drop on him past the age of five. He couldn’t even remember if he’d ever woken up another way.

The room didn’t feel much different. Sam was still snuffling softly on his own side of the table, the old house gave its usual old-house creaks, the flooring was cold against his skin.

Opening his eyes a smidge didn’t reveal much change either. Sam was sleeping on his belly, limbs spread all around him. Sharing a bed with him as a child had been murder, either waking up without a single blanket (kid was a total hog) or barely hanging from the edge of the bed (while Sammy pretended to be a starfish on the rest of it).

Early morning sunshine allowed him to inspect the ground level of the room for any creepy crawlies, but there were none. Nothing appeared to have changed at all and yet something was tingling in his senses, telling him to look.

Tri-dimensional, Dean! He could still hear his father’s rebuke long ago, on a hunt that had nearly gone wrong.

His eyes swung up just as a slender foot swung down and tapped him hard between the shoulder blades. He rolled, elbow flashing, but it was already swinging back onto the table.

She was sitting on it, Indian stile. There was a shower in her recent past and a probable search in Bobby’s cupboards, if her clothes were anything to go by. A plaid shirt, huge on her frame, that Dean remembered wearing long ago and leaving in the haste after his father’s fight with Bobby. She’d had to roll up the sleeves all the way to the top and had tied the tails at the waist. She’d also found an old pair of Sam’s jeans, from when he had been gearing up into a growth spurt. They seemed to fit her at the waist, but barely went to mid calf. Had she been a normal girl, he would have thought she was preparing for some spring cleaning or some other task that required old clothes. As it was, she looked more like a child playing dress up.

With the dirt gone, he could now tell just how pale her skin was. The hair… he was pretty sure it was a lost cause. It pooled around her on the table, but it looked impossibly tangled. Scissors would probably do nothing against it. A close shave with a knife was probably going to be all the mercy it could be spared.

She gave him a knowing look, small fingers playing with some of the soft strands against her thigh. There was even a little smile on her lips, whether at being clever and getting past him or at reading him so well, he could not tell.

Her look, though, went serious and miserable in a heartbeat.

-“Do you think he is right?”

-“What?”

-“Jake… Do you think he is right? Should I have fought? Did I take the coward’s way out?”

Dean looked at her, really looked at her, for a few seconds. The outside, he knew, was deceptive. But there was enough tenseness in her expression to convey the feelings she was struggling not to voice.

-“You said old Yellow Eyes wanted you to fight.”

Pearly white teeth (how on earth had she managed that without a toothbrush for who knows how long?) nibbled thoughtfully on her lower lip.

-“He kept… pushing for me to join in the fights. Kept making threats, sometimes promises, to get me to do it. The longer it took, the more upset he got. And then it changed, somehow. He didn’t try anymore, just kept coming around to… bug me, I guess. Don’t give me that look, I don’t think he had a change of heart. Just… a change of plans, perhaps.”

Dean allowed his eyebrow to drop a bit, letting the sarcastic smile go. No, the demon wouldn’t have let go of a toy if he could help it. But that opened up a whole other can of worms. What new plans could it have made for this girl?

-“The way Sam describes things, you probably did the smartest thing you could. You had no way to defend yourself, no training, no control. Butchering people left and right to keep them from attacking you, and doing so without being able to stop it from happening in the case of an innocent... That, I think, would have been the worst possible thing to do. It’s like… watching as a car accident happens. You can see people will be hurt by what’s coming. But what’s to say that your stepping in between the cars will keep the people in them safe, keep them from being hurt? You might just make things worse than they would have been.”

Her eyes closed as she thought about it. This, right here, was why he hated talking about things. Especially about the past. It was all what if’s. It was all self-torture, trotting out the options, second guessing until one’s head felt like it should explode. He hated it. Chatting time was over.

One thing he’d learned from Sam was that eye-to-eye connection could get you a lot of things: it could get you a later bed-time, a skip from shooting practice, a chance to take part in a school play. It could also get you critical information, a pretty girl’s phone number, it could get you laid.

It could also get people to believe what you were saying was the gospel truth.

He planted his hands on each side of her hips and closed in on her until they were nearly nose to nose. Her eyes opened when she felt him moving and went impossibly wide as he moved closer. Her breath was sweet against his lips, escaping her in a surprised little gasp. Yes, he was a cocky son of a bitch.

-“Look, you can stay here and play the guessing game all you want, or you can move on with your life. Either way, what’s done is done. You are still alive, you made it through. Now figure out what you want to do with your life. Me? I figure a good place to start is breakfast.”

He leaned even closer to her shocked face, gave her a teasing Eskimo kiss, and whirled towards the door.

He realized mid-move that Sam was awake, probably had been for a while, and was staring at him like he’d grown a second head.

-“So, how about it? Food sound good for you two?”


******************************


Bobby was not particularly pleased about a stranger going through his things in search of clothes or about their foraging for food in his kitchen without his input, but he obviously appreciated Dean’s coffee. Elizabeth’s parents, it turned out, owned a restaurant and thus she was expertly capable at feeding all four of them. Pancakes, bacon and hash browns, of all things, ended up on the table. Eggs, over-easy, for Sam and a tall glass of orange juice for the lady chef herself and they were set.

They didn’t talk much, conscious of who and why they were there, and even more so of Jake, whom they’d dragged, chair and all, up to the kitchen table. The drug had hit the guy harder than it had Elizabeth, for some reason. He hadn’t really paid much attention to it before, but where the big guy was still pretty groggy, their pint sized cook seemed awfully chipper.

She even managed to feed the guy without choking him with the food. Dean wouldn’t have been able to help himself from it, at least once.

What was it with psychics and their creepy feelings? Sam did that, as well, the whole drop-of-a-hat change of pace. One minute he was happy, the next he was all but in tears. How did they do that? Hell, how did they manage to get anything done while dealing with that? It was like 24/7 PMS or something. Hmmm… he’d have to mention that one to his brother sometime. Well away from her hearing, of course.

Still, it was funny to watch her. She’d gone shy on him for a bit, after his little trick to end their chat. Sammy had been giving him funny looks, too. Acting like his normal, adorable self, had cured them of that in a hurry. A couple of crass comments and things had been back on track in the kitchen.

Bobby kept giving him looks and making head motions at Jake. The meaning was clear. What were they going to do with the guy? They couldn’t keep him tied up for much longer. Sooner or later he’d need a bathroom break and things would get… disturbing. Or someone could come up to the house, unlikely though it was. While Bobby’s basement was… extensive, it wasn’t exactly secure for prisoner keeping. They didn’t have enough hands to stand a guard, especially with all the research that needed to get done. Keeping him drugged… they could probably manage it, for a little while, but someone would need to tend to the guy.

The braking of glass distracted him from his thoughts. Elizabeth was standing at the sink, more like holding onto it, with a glass smashed at her feet. The way her other hand was pressed against her temple was ominous. Twitching from around the table had him looking at Sam and Jake. His brother had already curled up into himself, hands fisted in his hair, and Military Man was all but convulsing as he tried to keep himself from screaming. Bobby caught the girl as she fell and Dean got to Sam in time to keep him from the floor, but there was not much more they could do. All three kids carried one for over a minute before going limp, three pairs of eyes opening to reveal only murky yellow. Familiar murky yellow. Three voices joined in macabre chorus, while three faces turned towards Dean.

-“Ahhhh, so here’s where you are. I’d been wondering. Do you really think, boy, that you can keep them from me?”

-“What the fuck are you doing to them, you son of whoring bitch?”

-“Tch, Deanno. Temper, temper. Little Sammy and his friends are just giving me a little hand. You’ll get them back soon enough. I’ve just come to give you some advice. Let’s consider this a gift, shall we? Back off, little boy, before I decide that your annoying little family should be turned into another little stain on the tarmac. Daddy has been such a lovely add-on to the décor.”

He wanted to smash the bastard’s face in. Beat him into a bloody pulp. Grind him into the dust until he squealed. No exorcism would be good enough for his one. He’d find the most painful, most destructive rite he could and finish the asshole, even if it was the last thing he did.

-“As it is, though, I’m a little pressed for time. Let’s see: eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Oh, well. You weren’t the horse I was betting on, but you’ll do.”

Jake vanished.

Into the air. He fucking vanished, right before their eyes.

Shit if his days didn’t keep getting better and better.

Now the demon had one of his chosen back.

…

At least it solved the whole what-to-do-with-the-guy thing.

Hi, guys! I want to really thank you all for your reviews. It's great to know you like my little tale! I also want to apologize about the unexplained delay. I recently moved into a new home (last Saturday, yay!) and I don't have Internet access there (phone company hmm's and ahhh's whenever I ask). I was supposed to still have access to the net on Friday but RL intervened. I'm really sorry I left you hanging. To make it up, here's an extra big one for all of ya. Enjoy!





Carting his sasquatch-sized little brother’s ass up the stairs and onto a bed was freaking fucking murder. Especially considering he had to do it all on his own, given just how narrow the staircase and corridor were.

Bobby carrying lightweight little Elizabeth and snickering at his cursing was so not helping.

Still, he’d rather be carting the kid around than wondering where the hell he was or what the fuck was being done to him. Recent experiences taken into account, he was rather pleased with this ending, even if the demon had gotten the drop on them.

Son of a bitch just had it coming. Heck, he’d fucking earned the ass-kicking he was going to get.

Sam looked horribly pale against the grayish sheets on the cot, pained tense lines marking his brow. Whatever it was the demon had done to open up that contact to his chosen, it had done a number on them. Hopefully, that meant that Jake was down too and would buy them a little time. It had also given them a disadvantage, robbing them of one of their best researchers. His baby brother looked to be out for a while.

Bobby took a while checking on Elizabeth, longer even than Dean’s overprotective-brother instincts had demanded.

-“Something wrong?”

-“Have you ever wondered where you’d be now, if things’d been different?”

-“What’d you mean?”

-“If your Mama hadn’t died… if John hadn’t become a hunter… if you’d never learned what’s out there… do you ever wonder what you’d be doing?”

Shit. What was it with the heart-to-hearts? Was it rain-on-Dean’s-parade day or what?

Still, he’d stepped right into that one, hadn’t he? No more expressions of concern. At least for a freaking week.

…

Better make that a month.

-“I don’t know, man. Sammy there’s the one with all the big dreams of picket fences, pooping-machines and penguin suits. Me? Just give me my car, some beer and a gun and I’m happy.”

The look Bobby gave him was… incredulous. Let’s go with that.

-“You’re kidding me, right?”

Dean gave him his best rakish grin and shrug. What did the guy expect, anyway? Some tale of woe?

-“You do recall that summer you and your brother spent here with me, right? The one where John dumped you on my doorstep with barely a hello and went out to get himself nearly killed? The one where you kids almost ended up calling me Daddy, thanks to Social Services?”

Ahhh… the good old family times of the Winchesters. How to forget your father dragging you over half the country, leaving you on someone’s decidedly dirty doorstep while the poor guy stares at you like you’re a fucking chupacabra come to life at his door, and then, two weeks later, news coming in that your Daddy almost ended up gutted in some swamp and that Social Services wants you both delivered pronto.

Their Dad had been a lot more careful about them, afterwards, but that hadn’t erased the close call from his sons’ minds. In some ways, it had shaped whom they’d become. Sam, with his quest for normality. And Dean himself, with his disregard for the law.

He tried to keep the smile from becoming wistful, but wasn’t quite sure he’d managed.

-“Yeah, so?”

-“Whom was it, exactly, that carted around a baseball bat wherever he went? That had his whole life planned all the way up to and including the number of pet piranha fish he was going to keep in his heated pool? Who freaking slept using said bat as a fucking teddy bear?”

-“Hey, gimme a break. I was what, 5? 6?”

-“You still had a dream, kid. There’s nothing wrong with that. Dreams keep us going, when the going gets tough. My wife… she… we had a dream, once. Of raising a little girl much like that one. One with enough guts and sass to make my hair go white.”

Dean knew how that story ended, knew about the possession, knew about how the woman died. He’d never really stopped to think about what she’d been like. Bobby had never really spoken about her, or their life together, and they’d always respected that choice. He would have liked to have had that choice to make, but Sammy had been so young when their mother died and their Father had been so closed off, that Dean had ended up being the one to tell Sam about her, trotting out every memory he’d had, again and again, for his baby brother’s sake.

He’d ended up embellishing the stories so much for Sam that in the end he couldn’t tell what had been real or pretend for most of them. There was one, the only time he’d talked to his Mom about dying, that he’d never shared with Sam.

That last pregnancy had been hard on their Mom, she’d been so incredibly sad, that Dean had convinced himself that his Mommy was going to die. He could remember pressing himself against her legs, begging her not to go. His Mom had sat him down for what she called “a little chat”. Most of the conversations had gone over his head, but he could remember one particular set of words clearly, almost as if the moment had become a frame for it:

-“Love doesn’t die, Dean. It’s the body that does. If something ever happens to me, if we can’t see each other again, always remember that I love you with all my heart.”

She’d been smiling at him sweetly, her hair a golden halo around her head, her baby bump a gentle swell beneath her hands. Afterwards, every time she told him about the angels that guarded him and his brother, he’d always imagined they’d look like she had then.

With an adult’s perspective, he could see the sadness that had still lived in her eyes. A similar kind of sadness to the one he now saw in Bobby. He had no way of knowing what had hidden in her heart, but he could take a wild guess at his.

-“Look, shit happens. If we keep looking back to the heap we stepped on, we ain’t going to see the next one coming. Dreams, they’re well and good, but… they’re still only dreams. We can fight for them, bleed for them, die for them. In the end… the only worth they have is what we give them. We might have been happy in our dream worlds, we might have been miserable. We’ll never know now. Your wife… I think she’d been proud of you, man. You kept going, you’re helping people the very best you can. It might not be the same as raising your own kid, but you’re giving many of them the chance to grow up. I think that counts as good.”

Shit, make that a freaking year of no-touchy-feely speeches. Next thing he knew he’d be at the gynecologist for a check-up.

Bobby had, thankfully, not commented. They’d left the kids to sleep the after effects of the demon’s mojo and had ended up hip-deep in research.

And wasn’t that just the story of his life?

From the pan and into the fire.


******************************


Sam had slept for over 6 hours. Elizabeth, for 9. And both of them had still looked like death warmed over by the time they’d dragged their sorry carcasses into Bobby’s lair (aka the living room). By then, they’d managed out to sort all of their information into actual demonic omens and coincidences. Dean’d never really paid attention to the shear amount of data one had to sift through to pinpoint a specific omen. It was beginning to give him a new appreciation for his Dad’s tenacity and for Ash’s brains. Sure could use the both of them now.

Still, he pumped his brother full of coffee and let him at it. If someone could help them make some headway, it was Mister Stanford.

Elizabeth ended up scrunching her nose at the sight of the amount of pizza, coffee and beer they’d consumed while she’d been out, but she didn’t comment on it. Instead, she attacked the leftover pizza with a vengeance and joined into the fact finding party. She ended up being another little geek, perfectly in Sam’s corner of now-it-all’s, and they’d started spouting facts in a way that made Dean’s head spin.

At least, they’d speeded up research time.

Not by much, what with their going off in tangents, but some.


******************************


Even with the geeks going at it full time, it took them almost two extra days to finish their check-ups. Cross-checking or some such nonsense. Crappy nonsense, at that. By the time those two had been satisfied, even Bobby had been crawling up the walls. Him? He’d already checked and re-checked every single weapon he owned. He’d polished the Impala. Heck, he’d pitched in on the search.

Unfortunately, all things pointed to the same conclusion. It was a bad week to visit Wyoming. At least, most of it.

-“Southern Wyoming, huh?”

-“There has to be something important there, Dean. Look, it’s almost like they are circling that area. You can almost see a spiral pattern forming when you put all the omens together. Whatever they’re doing there, it’s big.”

-“That’s the problem, though. We still haven’t figured out what they are doing there. What’s so important about this particular place? There’s nothing but grass there.”

-“Look, we can figure it out as we go, right? Grab the laptop, a couple of books and plenty of ammo and then we go raise a little hell!”

-“What is it with you Winchesters, huh? You, your dad. You're both just itching to throw yourselves down the pit. The scarier the way down, the faster you jump. Are you that screwed in the head?!”

Bobby was just gathering steam, he could tell. Thus, he was incredibly grateful by the loud clang and the ungraceful cursing that came suddenly from outside.

Their reactions were immediate and, surprisingly, flawless. Dean found himself pressed against the wall, gun in hand and covering the farthest left window, opposite side of his brother, who’d gone right. Sam had dragged Elizabeth with him and the girl stayed tight against his side, except for the hand she curled around his torso, its palm aimed at the windows. Between all three of them, they covered most of the yard. Above them, he could hear Bobby’s light steps. The older hunter had immediately ducked out of the room and gone for the high ground.

The cursing had continued, lighter than before. Muttered. Whomever it was had obviously realized there was something wrong with the house.

-“Bobby? You there?”

The feminine twang was familiar. It took him a second to place, but, in his defense, he expected the owner to be a charred dead mess.

Still, safety must. He mouthed the name to Sam, whom nodded thoughtfully. They knew what had happened to the Roadhouse, but they’d had no chance to search the remains. It wasn’t impossible that someone had survived.

While they attempted to converse in hand-sign, Elizabeth went to her knees, crawled to the middle window and took a quick peek.

-“Older woman, blonde, tallish. Looks beat. She’s freaking out.”

Dean glared at her. Initiative was all well and good, but risking her neck needlessly was not. Bobby could have got them that info easily.

Ok, so he was a hypocrite. So sue him. He was perfectly willing to put someone in risk. Himself. There was to be no more dying on his watch. Not even weird girls with freaky powers. His Dad had been enough.

Bobby came back from upstairs and motioned that “Ellen” if she really was her, was alone. Meanwhile, the woman’s calls had decreased in volume as she approached the house, her steps turning cautious.

-“She has a gun.”

Bobby went towards the door, gun in hand, but the rest of them stayed still. The conversation at the door was hushed, barely intelligible, and ended up with “Ellen” being escorted into the room at gunpoint. Elizabeth turned in place, back against the wall, and kept her hand aimed at the blond woman.

Whomever or whatever the little psychic was, her instincts were spot on.

Helen ended up sitting at the dining room’s table, shot glass of holy water firmly set before here.

-“Bobby, is this really necessary?”

-“Just a belt of Holy Water, shouldn't hurt.”

She made a face at him, but drank obediently.

-“Something stronger now, if you don’t mind.”

-“So… how’d you get out? What happened?”

-“I wasn't supposed to. I was supposed to be in there with everybody else. But we ran out of pretzels, of all things. It was just dumb luck. Anyway, that's when Ash called. Panic in his voice. He told me to look in the safe. Then the call cut out. By the time I got back, the flames were sky-high. And everybody was dead. I couldn't have been gone more than fifteen minutes.”

She downed the whiskey Bobby handed her like it was water.

-“You were lucky.”

Wrong thing to say. Ellen turned towards Elizabeth and glared for all she was worth.

-“Lucky? A lot of good people died there today.”

-“And you got to live.”

Ok, time to defuse that, before they combusted. Bobby, apparently thinking the same, got there first.

-“Ellen, you mentioned a safe.”

-“I… yes. We kept one in the basement. It was hidden.”

-“Did the demons get to it?”

-“No. Here.”

Out of her pocket she pulled what looked like one of his father’s maps after a two-year-old Sam had gotten a hold on a permanent marker.

Unfortunately, it brought more questions than answers.

-“Great. Wyoming again. What the hell does that mean?”

Thank you! I'm glad you like it! I got a little carried away with this part. It's a bit... long. Season 2 is almost over and then, my lovelies, I get to play!!!
Enjoy!






The book was almost innocuous, in how much it was like all the others scattered around the room.

Bobby was staring at it like it was the freaking Holy Grail.

-“I don’t… it’s unbelievable.”

-“What is?”

-“You found something?”

Oh, man, they had to get Sam away from this chick. Psychic or not, if they started synchronizing their bitchy cycles he was going to commit murder.

Bobby had finally relinquished the book and its pages laid spread on the nearby table. Beside it, the older hunter placed Ash’s map, which mimicked in part the books content.

-“This is… a lot more than something. Each mark on that map matches to the location of an abandoned frontier church, all of them from the 19th century. And, get this, each one of them were built by Samuel Colt.”

-“Colt? What’s so important about him?”

-“As far as we figure? He was a hunter, or at least worked really close with one. He made a gun, a really special gun, capable of killing anything in its path. Catch is, he only made 13 bullets. Most have been used already. And the demon has the gun, unfortunately. Still, it’s a nice thought, right? Putting a bullet through the asshole’s head?”

Elizabeth gave him a look, but nodded thoughtfully. Dean wasn’t quite sure if she agreed with him, or if it was only an acceptance of his explanation.

-“The question is: what does a gun maker have to do with a church? Except increasing the preachers’ sermons.”

-“Well, if you smartass would let me speak, I’d tell you. He built private railway lines connecting church to church. And they just happen to be laid out like this.”

Bobby grabbed his own marker and drew quickly over the map, completing the diagram Dean could clearly see on the book.

-“Shit! Is that…?”

-“A Devil’s Trap. A huge ass one, at that.”

-“Looks like it’s at least a 100-square miles.”

-“And made entirely of iron, which the demons can’t cross.”

That had them gaping at the girl.

-“What? There’s enough lore out there for even me, outsider that I am, to pick that up. Fairies ring a bell? Either way, you do recall that I had some reading materials back in prison, don’t you?”

Dean shook his head at her, while both Sam and Bobby managed to look amused. Ellen, though, looked decidedly unhappy.

-“Fine. So Samuel Colt was brilliant. I’ve never hear of anything that massive being attempted. But, does it even work? It’s been quite a while since Colt built it.”

-“I don’t think anyone has ever heard of something like it, but I think it still works.”

-“Yeah, that would fit, wouldn’t it? All those omens we found, the demons are circling it because they can’t get in. They’re definitely trying, though.”

-“Well, what’s inside?”

-“Topology doesn’t show much. As far as I could find, there’s only an old cowboy cemetery in the area. So whatever they’re looking for, it’s probably there.”

-“Well what's so important about a cemetery or...what's Colt trying to protect?”

-“Maybe it’s the other way around. What if Colt wasn't trying to keep the demons out? What if he was trying to keep something in?”

-“Doesn’t that sound nice. You think they can get through? Could they get inside?”

-“Unless they got an A-bomb on them, I don’t think so. This thing… it’s incredibly powerful. There’s no way a demon’s getting across.”

-“Unless it’s not a demon whom needs to get in.”

They all shared a look. The demon going to all that trouble to get one of his “chosen” kids was beginning to make sense.

-“Why would a demon want that gun?”

-“What?”

-“You said that gun can kill anything, can kill Him. Why carry with you your own destruction. Why not just destroy it?”

-“We don’t know that it hasn’t.”

-“You don’t know that he has, either. It’s just… isn’t it too much of a coincidence? A gun made by Colt, a trap made by Colt. Is their maker really the only connection? What if the gun was part of the protections of that place?”

-“You’re saying that the demon has a… key, to that vault.”

“I’m saying it wanted it for a reason.”

Shit.


******************************


The increasing appearance of omens told them easily that their time was running out. They still didn’t have a what, but the where would have to be enough.

Dean found himself almost craving the coming confrontation. He was going to make damn sure things were over, one way or another. One thing was certain, that demon wasn’t walking away from this one, not if he could help it.

-“Thinking dark thoughts?”

He wondered if she was part wraith, the way she moved so silently whenever the mood suited her. No sound of gravel had announced her approach to the Impala, which he found annoying. The hair was spot on, at least, but she was much too colorful to pull the look of.

-“What makes you say that?”

-“You look… grim.”

-“That son of a bitch killed my father, kidnapped my brother and very nearly killed me. I’m… gearing myself up. I want it over.”

-“The feud or your life?”

-“WHAT?!”

-“I’ve… been watching you. You’re good, I’ll give you that, but you don’t get a cookie for the part you’re playing now.”

-“I’m not playing anything.”

-“You’re playing at being alive.”

His mouth was open, he wanted to say no… but the words wouldn’t come. She just stood there, arms crossed in a slight defensiveness, and looked at him.

Looked at him.

As in saw him.

-“The others… they won’t say anything. But your brother and Bobby are worried. Ellen doesn’t know you well enough yet, but she can tell something’s off. I met you less than a week ago and even I can tell something is wrong.”

It was almost over. He could almost taste the bitter end. And here was a slip of a girl, doing the one thing he had thus far managed to avoid. Seeing him, what he really kept inside.

He was broken, he knew that. Felt it every moment of every single day. Sam, he’d tried to help, but… some things just can’t be fixed.

Still, he’d managed to keep the worse of it from his brother. From Bobby, and Ellen, and Jo. Gordon had intuited some of it and used it against him.

-“My thoughts and my life are my own. It doesn’t concern any of you.”

-“They do if they’re supposed to follow you into this fight.”

Such a simple thing, to be checked on. No one had done it for him since a few months after his mother died, when his father finally figured out what had happened to his wife. While not entirely absent, his Dad had had little time for him and Sam.

So he’d become mother and father and sister and brother for Sammy. But there’d been no one that could do it for him.

He’d missed it, he realized.

-“Look, I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

He left her beside the car and marched towards the house in search of his brother. He wasn’t waiting a single second more.

-“He wouldn’t have wanted you to give up your life to his quest, Dean. It wasn’t what he meant.”
He was also going to pretend he never heard that.


******************************


The cemetery was dark when they got there and, as far as they could tell, totally empty. Nothing seemed disturbed, which hopefully meant they were still in time. Sam had kept track of the omens all the way in, laptop in hand, but had detected no change.

If they screwed up, they were all going to die. The shear amount of demons waiting for a way into the place was terrifying. Getting out, no matter how things went, would be interesting.

It took a while of searching, but they eventually found the crypt. Distinctive didn’t quiet cover it, the thing looked like some hunters’ wet dream. It had a freaking Devil’s Trap for a lock for fuck’s sake.

Still, they prepared. This was a stake out, after all. They arranged themselves in a semicircle around the front and sides of the crypt, with him and Sam coving the outer flanks. Elizabeth, on Dean’s side, and Ellen, on Sam’s, took the diagonals. Bobby took front and center.

Afterwards, all they could do was wait. There was a full moon out, which aided in visibility but robbed them of cover, and which probably influenced the timing of this little trip.

Jake took his time getting there. And in his hand, true to Elizabeth’s forebodings, was the Colt. The tall, man approached the crypt’s door without hesitation, hand extended towards the lock. Couldn’t let him do that, now could they?

-“Howdy, Jake.”

Ok, so Sammy-boy was getting a cookie for coolness. The guy’s face was hilarious as he turned to face them.

-“You’re supposed to be dead. He said he killed you.”

-“Yeah? Well, make sure you get your facts straight next time.”

-“He showed me what he did to you. He did! You can't be alive. You can't be.”

Bobby motioned to Jake.

-“Okay, let’s all of us just take it real easy, shall we?”

-“And if I don't?”

-“Then we’ll have to see, won’t we?”

-“So tough. What are you gonna do that he can’t, kill me?”

-“If we have to.”

-“You couldn’t before. Scaredy cat over there didn’t even try. Why should I believe you?”

It was Elizabeth who stepped forth this time.

-“Because we won’t make the same mistake again. We can’t afford to, Jake.”

The man laughed in her face, eyes glazed with what Dean recognized as hysteria. He wasn’t waiting anymore. This was getting them nowhere.

-“ What are you smiling at, you little bitch?”

-“Hey Lady, do me a favor. Put that gun to your head.”

They all watched in horror as Ellen’s arm moved, going by her expression, without her consent. Her fingers cocked the gun and pressed it gently against her temple, while her eyes widened in fear. What the fuck?!

-“See that Ava girl was right. Once you give in to it, there's all sorts of new Jedi mind tricks you can learn.”

-“Let her go.”

-“Oh, God. Shoot him!”

-“You'll be mopping up skull before you get a shot off. Everybody, put your guns down. Except you, sweetheart.”

They hesitated.

-“Well?”

-“You were told to let her go”

-“You think you can beat her at the draw, darling? Gun’s all prepped to go.”

-“So good I’m not racing her, isn’t it?. Let. Her. Go.”

Jake stumbled backwards into the crypt, hands scrabbling for purchase against it as… something, battered him back. Ellen’s arm, suddenly released, fell limply at her side and she stumbled in relief. Elizabeth’s eyes rolled back into her head in effort, as a slow trickle of blood appeared at her nose. Dean found himself moving in to catch her as she collapsed, slender body limp.

Bobby’s distressed cry made him raise his eyes, just in time to watch as Jake inserted the Colt, key stile, into a specially designed slot.

Sam reacted faster to the call, gun blazing. The two shots hit Jake point blank, one aimed for the shoulder, the other for the leg. He went down and Sam moved in to guard him, while Bobby ran past towards the crypt.

It was too late to stop the Colt from working its magic, though. All they could do was watch as the engravings on the crypt spun into configuration ominously.

-“Uh, oh.”

-“Bobby, what…?”

-“Oh, God. It’s Hell.”

-“A Hell Gate?!?!”

Dean pulled the Colt out of the crypt. No way was he leaving this behind. He had plans for the thing.

-“Run. NOW!”

Well, who was he to argue with a man that could sound like that? He found himself ridiculously grateful that it hadn’t been Sam taking a header this time. There was no way to lug the kid about with speed. Elizabeth, though, ended up tossed over his shoulder like a potato sack. Poor girl was going to have bruises for that one, but life and limb came first over beauty.

Even as they ran, the doors of the crypt burst open. He could hear the roar of something coming from within, and, looking over his shoulder, he gaped at the black mass that suddenly erupted from it and into the sky. There was no way the Devil’s Trap was going to hold that many of them.

He ducked behind a nearby tombstone, girl cradled in his lap. He could see her eyelashes fluttering as she struggled to come to, and shook her slightly.

-“Rise and shine, baby. You’re missing one Hell of a party.”

-“What happened?”

-“I’d love to know that, but we’ll leave the 20 questions for later. We got big problems.”

She peeked over the stone, eyes going wide with shock.

-“What the fuck is that?!”

-“That’s a Devil’s Gate, a door into hell. And it’s gone wide open.”

-“We gotta shut it! God knows what will get out if we don’t!”

She took off for the gate. Sam and Ellen were already there, struggling to close it.

He checked on the Colt, making sure it still had at least a bullet. There was no way of knowing what the demon could have got up to with it before he gave it to Jake.

The sudden crashing of thunder had him wheeling around, just in time for said demon to send him by air express into a close encounter of the tombstone kind. And that… freaking hurt.

It also lost him the gun, which went flying into the demon’s hand.

-“Little boys shouldn't play with Daddy's guns.”

Several cries of “Dean!” rang from near the Gate. He watched dazedly, impotently while the demon’s power held him, as Sam and Bobby were flung as well, Bobby into the crypt and Sam into a nearby tree.

-“You, I’ll deal with in a minute. Sit a spell. And now, for something completely different…”

Tombstones began to move, shifting from their resting places and forming what was unmistakably an altar of some kind. The demon made a pulling motion, and it was Elizabeth who flew through the air this time. She impacted onto the altar hard, breath expelled in a gasp. She struggled, trying to get off, but the demon’s power kept her in place.

-“No, no, no, my dear. Now you be an obedient little Queen of Hell, ok? Nice little Queens get to keep some of their brains. But only the really nice ones.”

Jake went next, joining Sammy against the tree.

-“And here we have them, ladies and gentlemen. The Boy King and the Court Jester. And only one of them can be King. Only one of them can lead the army that is coming. So, Dean… I have to thank you. If you hadn’t gone to Stanford to get your little brother here, he wouldn’t have been able to join us at this grand party. I always did like him better. But, tell me… have you ever heard the expression, "If a deal sounds too good to be true, it probably is?"”

-“What deal? The one you gave our Dad, you son of a bitch?!”

-“Well… that was a mighty fine deal, if I say so myself. Enjoyed it immensely. But… no, not that one. I wonder… How certain are you that what you carried out of that burning house, was 100% pure Sam? You of all people should know what's dead, should stay dead. Anyway...thanks a bunch. I knew I kept you alive for some reason. Until now, anyway. I couldn't have done it all without your pathetic, self-loathing, self-destructive desire to sacrifice yourself for your family. And now, it’s that very desire that’s going to hand me your brother on a silver platter.”

The demon began to chant in some bizarre language. It wasn’t anywhere near Latin. It felt… older. Elizabeth screamed and began to convulse horribly. Her hands were suddenly free, and she turned them against herself, clawing madly at her chest. Twin cries of pain came from Sam and Jake, as whatever was being done to her resonated towards them.

As the demon’s chanting grew louder, a form took shape behind him. One that Dean would have recognized in his sleep. His Dad reached out ghostly hands and grabbed him, interrupting him mid chant. The possessed man’s body collapsed, suddenly empty of its host, as demon and spirit struggled for control.

Dean found himself suddenly released and flung himself forward, scrabbling for the gun that was still in the collapsed man’s hand. He’d barely cocked it when the demon managed to escape his Father’s hold and returned into the body. As he stood, Dean tracked his movements with the gun, aimed and fired. There would be no coming back for the asshole from that head shot.

Behind him, he heard Bobby and Ellen finally close the gate, but all he could see was his Dad. He watched numbly as he approached, watched the tears that ran down his face and felt his own. The gentle pressure of a hand against his shoulder felt more like absolution than anything anyone had ever said. Sammy came up to them, shakily, and nodded at their Dad. There was another long look into his eyes and then his Father disappeared before his eyes.

It took him a while to get moving after that. Long enough that even Elizabeth… fuck it, LIZ made it of that altar. She looked shaky and horrified, but she was moving, which was what counted.

The demons body was still smoking slightly by the time he and Sam approached it.

-“Well, check that off the to-do list.”

-“You did it.”

-”Not like I did it alone.”

-“Still. Do you think Dad really...do you think he really climbed outta hell? “

-“The door was open. If anyone's stubborn enough to do it...it would be him.”

-“Where do you think he is now?”

-“I don't know.”

-“I kind of can't believe it, Dean. I mean... our whole lives, everything... has been prepping for this, and now I... I kind of don't know what to say.”

His brother really did look like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry,

-“I do. That was for our mom...you son of a bitch.”

Just a quickie today guys. Sorry. RL interfered with my writing time. Enjoy!




And still, after all was over, they were left carting around Jake’s ass. His decidedly heavy ass. What the fuck had the military been feeding him, anyway? And what was it about the last few days that left him carting everyone about? Next thing he knew, Bobby or Ellen would be taking a header as well and he would be expected to carry the lot of them.

Kid had gone into the trunk, again. He also hadn’t been pleased about it, or about his brand-spanking-new gunshot wounds. Boy had just started the end of the world and he was whining about his flesh wounds. Dean wanted to pour in some rock salt and grind. Give him something to whine about.

He finished tying a gag on him without doing so, though, and turned to face his approaching brother.

-“We’re almost ready to burn the body.”

-“Perfect. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner I can get me some pie.”

Same gave him a look, but didn’t comment.

-“You know, when Jake saw us...it was like he saw ghosts. I mean, hell, you heard him, Dean. He said the demon had killed us.”

-“Yeah, well. I'm just glad he was wrong.”

-“I don't think he was, Dean. What if the demon showed him something? Something that made him believe that?”

-“Sam, we just killed the demon. Can we celebrate for a minute? Without worrying what he fuck was going on in Jake’s twisted little mind?”

-“It’s just… I can’t help but wonder, man.”

-“Oh, come on! No!”

-“But... Dean! What if he was threatened? What if… It could have been me, Dean.”

-“We are so not doing is. I’m getting through what’s left of this freaking day without another overly-emotional little chat even if it kills me, is that clear? Now hand over the goddamned lighter fluid and lets light the party up.”

-“Oh, man. I can’t believe you just said that.”

-“What?”

-“There was once a person in there.”

-“And now there’s not, so?”

-“You’re impossible.”

-“And you’re in my way.”

He marched past Sam, stride determined. Yes, success! One chat, finally avoided.

-“Dean?”

Oh, God. Not that tone of voice!

-“What?”

His brother sounded like he’d just gone back to being five-years-old and begging to keep his teddy bear.

-“You've saved my life over and over. I mean, you sacrifice everything for me. Heck, you practically raised me. Don't you think I'd do the same for you? You're my big brother. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you.”

Sam’s hand was warm and heavy as it pressed against his shoulder. Too warm. It almost felt like a brand, going deep into the cold space that had resided near Dean’s heart since his Father’s death.

-“No matter what that demon said, no matter what it meant… You’re my brother. And I’m going to get you through this funk of yours, drag your ass out for a change.”

Dean ended up sputtering as his brother walked past him, grabbed the lighter fluid, and marched over to where the others were waiting for them near the newly dug up grave.


******************************


The body took a while to burn, almost too much. It was already past dawn by the time they finished burying the remains, and Dean’s limbs were uncomfortably stiff. He was also beginning to develop something of a mantra.

Pie. Shower. Bed.

Pie. Shower. Bed.

That was all he wanted.

-“Well...Yellow Eyed Demon might be dead. But a lot more got through that gate.“

Ellen looked grim and tired and dusty. Her blond hair had lost it shine and the lines of pain around her mouth had deepened by the hour. She’d had a hard few days. Her home, her friends… they were gone. All she had left was a daughter who was whom knows where, pretending she was a big bad hunter. Jail bait was going to get herself killed one of this days and wouldn’t that be fun to clean up.

-“How many, you think?”

-“Hundred. Maybe two hundred. It's an army. He's unleashed an army.”

His baby brother, the optimist. He really hoped there were only two hundred of them.

-“Hope to hell you boys are ready. 'Cause the war has just begun.”

Dean found himself instinctively checking that the Colt was still in his pocket. Wouldn’t do to lose the thing now of all times.

“Well, then we got work to do.”

-“Not right now though.”

Liz was listing. Hard. The girl was using one of the discarded shotguns as a cane and was barely able to drag herself up to the car. Stubborn little cuss wouldn’t let them help, either.

-“Right now, we’re going to find a place to crash, sweetheart, if it’ll agree with you.”

-“Thank God for small miracles. Looked like you were planning on going out Rambo for a second there.”

She was motioning towards his pocket. Ok, so she’d seen him check on the gun. There was nothing wrong with that, was there? Keeping your guns in hand kept you alive in this business.

-“Nah. The only thing I want to hunt down right this moment is some apple pie. Maybe even a frisky girl and a bed. You interested?”

Her expression had a “You pig!” written all over it. Heck, all four of them were looking at him the same way.

-“What? It was just an idea!”


******************************


Their arrival to the scrap yard was… anticlimactic. They were all so tired they’d barely managed to lug Jake in and onto his chair. Ellen had volunteered to patch the guy off, which was just as well. He wasn’t really sure he could move his arms enough to give him the strangling he should be getting, let alone help the guy.

He ended up crowding into after Sam, uncaring about modesty in the face of ending up with a cold shower. His brother, thankfully, didn’t complain. He simply stripped down to his boxers and stepped under the spray. There were awful, deep purple bruises all over Sammy’s back from his little encounter with the tree. He probably didn’t look any better, considering the tombstone-shaped imprint he could feel on his ribs. Still, the hot water would work wonders on them.

He’d barely gotten under the spray when the door opened again.

Both of them peeked around the shower curtain, in time to watch Liz shuck of her tattered jeans. Her shirt was already on the floor with their own stuff, which left her wearing a set of white bra and panties. Since he hadn’t expected to find himself confronted with a pair of breasts anytime soon, he was pretty sure his jaw was making a trip towards the floor. Sammy himself looked a little dazed (no wonder, the kid hadn’t got laid in what? Weeks? Did he even remember what a pair looked like?). Liz, though, didn’t seem to care about their opinions. She simply ripped the curtain from their hands and climbed into the stall with them.

Now, Bobby’s bathroom wasn’t exactly huge, but it wasn’t a closet either. Still, you had to be in polite terms with someone for two people to fit in together. Three of them meant that a lot of warm, wet, naked skin ended up pressed tight against more skin.

He wasn’t really sure what to do with his hands.

…

Ok, so he knew what he wanted to do. Give him a break. He was a perfectly healthy, lusty, 28 year-old guy. And she was a healthy, nice looking girl. A half naked, wet, nice looking girl. So Sammy being there would kind of put a crimp on things (or send them into seriously kinky territory) but still.

Looking at said brother, he could see he was just as… wiggled out by the proceedings as he felt. Sammy had taken it a step further though, and was pressed against the wall, hands raised near his head and trying to keep his eyes on the ceiling.

-“Would you two big babies just get a move on? We’re wasting water.”

Her tone of voice was grouchy, her expression (from what Dean could see) was amused.

-“You’re the one that climbed in with us.”

-“Yeah, well. I wanted to get some hot water, too. And since you guys acted so big on sharing…”

Dean sighed, and reached around her for the soap. There was no way he was getting out and waiting. Bobby’s water heater was ancient. You got one good shower out of it a day and that was it. No way was he getting the cold one. Not even if some people would say he needed one.

The sexual frustration might just kill him, though.


******************************


They’d managed to finish washing on friendly terms and with a minimum amount of elbowing.

And then they’d come out to Ellen’s and Bobby’s incredulous stares.

Sammy had gone all aw’shucks on them, toeing the floor, hunching his shoulders, the works. Liz looked unrepentant under the older woman’s glower and mutters about “feminine modesty”. Dean took a look at all of them and decided to cut his losses.

-“Shower’s all yours now. Have fun!”

While they gaped at him, he grabbed his shower mates and ran for it.


******************************


-“I think Bobby might just gut you for that one.”

-“Did you see the guy’s face? I thought he was going to have a stroke.”

He felt… wired. Happy. They were wet, half naked and hiding from the “adults” among the scrap and he hadn’t felt quiet as alive for a while.

-“You and your big mouth are going to get us killed one of this days, you know.”

-“Ah, c’mon Sammy. Live a little. You have to admit it was funny.”

-“Yeah, well… Now what? All our clothes are in there. With them.”

-“If Bobby listened to my suggestions, we’d have the way clear.”

-“He’s not going to.”

He snorted.

-“What is it with you guys and not wanting to get laid? Sex is such a beautiful, natural act.”

-“We get laid. We just don’t slut around.”

-“I’m hurt, Sammy. Really. That hit me right in the heart, man.”

-“Do you two always act like that?”

She was laughing at them, all quiet and mouse-like. He’d noticed that about her, how she tended to keep quiet and hidden until she was good and ready to be noticed. Perhaps it was something left-over from her time in demonic boot camp?

-“Yeah, pretty much.”

-“It…. Must have been nice. Growing up together.”

They both looked at each other. It had been nice, even if you took into account all the hunting expeditions with Dad that Sam had so hated.

She gave them an understanding smile that denied the need for an answer. That was when Dean really got a good look at her mouth.

-“Shit, we have to get you back inside.”

-“What? Why?”

-“Your lips are blue. Aren’t you cold?”

He grabbed her arm and started towing her towards the house without waiting for an answer. Fun and games were well and good, but pneumonia was nothing to sneeze at.

I'm glad you guys liked it. The shower scene just sort of popped up, it was to good to leave out! Here's today's bit. Hope you like it!






His head ached.

Or at least, the back of it did.

The fact that Bobby kept hitting it whenever he was within reach might just have something to do with it.

The older hunter had not appreciated the incredibly public suggestion that he have a little shower fun with their resident hunting mamma. Apparently, Ellen was a lady and should be treated as such, even if she could drink all of their asses under the table. Owning the Roadhouse had given her some really odd talents.

Dean had had to work real hard to keep back a snort during that little speech. Ellen was no more a lady than he was an angel.

And she hadn’t looked all that insulted to him. More like… amusedly outraged.

Still, at least they’d been allowed back into the house. He’d forgotten, while horsing around, just how smaller and lighter Liz was when compared with Sam and him. Her body simply couldn’t take as much strain as theirs did. The tremors that had been wracking her petite frame by the time they’d made it inside had made damn sure that he’d remember it next time.

She looked better now, dressed in another oversized, hand-me-down outfit, small hands cradling a mug of dark coffee. Her skin had returned to its normal color and she was listening to the others plan for what was coming with seeming interest.

Something was wrong, though.

While talking to Sam about what had happened at Cold Oak, he’d mentioned Ava’s seeming ignorance about her fiancé’s fate and how he’d had to tell her the sorry tale.

Liz hadn’t asked about her husband. Not once. Hadn’t even made an attempt at a search with the laptop. At the very least, she’d probably find an obituary for the guy. If she’d asked any of them for help, they probably would have found a lot more.

And yet, she hadn’t tried, at all, to find out about him.

He tracked her out of the corner of his eye, waiting. It didn’t take long, not with the way she was guzzling from the mug, for her to make a coffee run into the kitchen and then he was on his way…

Now how to start?

-“You haven’t asked about him.”

Shit. A little blunt, but it’d have to do.

-“Him?”

-“Your hubby.”

How was it possible for someone to go that pale without having their throats cut out? For a second, he was almost afraid she’d pass out on him, but she managed to cling to the counter. Barely.

He pulled out one of the chairs, planted her firmly on it and went in search of Bobby’s energizing tonic aka the good whiskey.

The two fingers of drink he placed before her vanished as if by magic, but she sipped more calmly at the next two. She watched him as she did, her expression quizzical, almost as if she couldn’t figure out if he was for real or not. Whatever it was that was going through her mind, she sighed.

-“I’m a psychic, Dean. And I went through a marriage ceremony with him.”

He waited a bit for her to continue, and the gaped at her.

.”Ok, so you married the guy. What’s that got to do with you not asking about him?”

She blinked.

-“You…. You really don’t know, do you? About the bonds? About… what being a psychic really means?”

-“What do you mean?”

-“Dean, being psychic isn’t just about… having abilities. It isn’t something you can just use and forget about when convenient, it’s something we are. Something we live and breathe every second of every day. It permeates our lives.”

-“I still don’t get what your being psychic has to do with my question. That Ava chic? She was a psychic, too. And she had no freaking idea her fiancé was dead.”

-“But you just said it yourself: he was her fiancé. She never went through a rite with him, she never got to marry him. There was never a psychic bond between them.”

Say what?!

-“Please, just listen. Being a psychic means you have a much deeper connection to the world around you. Some of it depends on the kind of abilities you have, but for most it’s just a sense, a vibe, about things. What people call a gut feeling.

The stronger the psychic is, the stronger that connection becomes. If a psychic is strong enough to actually display and ability, no matter what it is, then they will be strong enough to form bonds with the people around them. Most of them will be instinctive pathways, like empathy. But there are also those that are generated through specific circumstances or through rituals, like the bonds between a mother and her child or the bonds between spouses.

Those bonds… they are… all consuming. Extremely powerful. They can breach time and space in ways most people could never comprehend. Thus, a mother would instinctively know when her child is hurt. A wife would know that her husband is dead.”

-“And so… you know. When?”

-“I felt the bond snap… it was what woke me up that first day in Cold Oak. One moment he was there with me… and the next he was gone.”

-“Jesus.”

-“In a way, I was the unlucky one. I… most of this info I got from the books in Cold Oak, and they mentioned what a bond between psychics is like. Me being the only one in our match means he didn’t have to suffer through both death and the pain of the breaking bond.”

-“Bad, huh?”

She looked at him, eyes sad and thoughtful.

-“I’d go through it again just to have him back.”

-“You really loved him.”

-“We’d been together for a while. I just… I kept hoping I’d wake up from the nightmare and he’d be there, asking if I wanted French toast or eggs for breakfast. It took a while for it to really sink in, that he was gone.”

-“You said being a psychic affects your whole life. Anything else I should know about?”

-“You mean, because of Sam?”

In part.

-“He’s my baby brother, you know. Gotta know what to be on the lookout for.”

-What exactly did your Dad tell you about psychics? You’ve seemed… hostile, to the concept.”

-“He just said they… you, I guess… were bad news and to keep Sammy away from any that crossed our paths.”

-“So, basically, he raised you to be a hunter and forgot to tell you the details about the life. Hmmm…. Let’s see if this works, I’ll tell you psychic influenced things about your brother and you can tell me if they’re right or wrong. Deal?”

-“Deal.”

-“Ok. Well, he’s driven; serious; will stay celibate until he has an actual emotional connection to the girl he’s with; he finds himself needing to talk things out, especially if it has to do with feelings; there are things he avoids touching but can’t explain why; he has uncommonly good instincts about certain things…”

-“Ok, ok… I get it. Everything about him is affected.”

-“There’s tons more. It is all connected, within him. You can’t compartmentalize it.”

-“He’s capable of… bonding, isn’t he?”

-“Yes. He’s really strong, I can feel it. He can probably feel me too, if he tries. I think that’s part of why your Dad wanted you to keep him away from others. To keep them from noticing how strong he is, how much potential he has. If he marries another psychic… it will strengthen him.”

-“So, to keep him safe, he had to be kept away.”

-“Yeah.”

-“That son of a bitch.”

-“Sam?”

-“No, my Dad. Sam, he always hated the hunting, wanted a normal life. When he told Dad he wanted to go to college, Dad told him if he was going to go he had to stay gone.”

-“In those words?”

-“Yeah.”

-“He was a clever man, your Dad. Just a few words and he made sure Sam wouldn’t try to go at it on his own, that he’d stay away from any possibility of… Very clever.”

-“His being clever cost us years we could have spent together… or, at least, in touch.”

-“It also kept your brother out of anyone’s radar.”

-“Not really. The demon found him anyway.”

-“Ok, so at least it bought you some time. Sam only spent a day at Cold Oak.”

-“That’s right. You said you were one of the first to arrive. How long were you there?”

-“The last time I saw my husband, that I saw Max, was August 9, 2003.”

-“You were in that place for over three years?!?!”

-“Sometimes it feels like it was longer.”

-“Shit.”

-“Quite.”

He got himself a glass and joined in on the drinking.


******************************


The ringing of his cell phone woke him up. He immediately wished it hadn’t. falling asleep at the table had seemed like a great idea the night before, especially after downing most of Bobby’s booze, but his back and neck were killing him. While rubbing at said neck he made a halfhearted attempt at getting his phone out of his pocket.

-“Yeah?”

-“Finally got up?”

Fratricide was such a nice thing to consider in the mornings.

-“Not really.”

-“There’s aspirin and a glass of water on the counter to your left.”

-“Marry me, man. I think I love you.”

-“You couldn’t afford to keep me. Now, see the pretty girl sitting in front of you? The one you initiated into your evil, booze guzzling ways? You’ve to make sure she gets water and aspirin too.”

-“Don’t wanna share. Pills are all mine.”

-“It’s like talking to a two-year-old. Dean, we’re getting supplies, ok? Ellen’s there, she’s keeping an eye on Jake. We figured out what we’re going to do with him, we’ll talk when we get back, ok?”

-“Fine, fine. Just… lower your voice.”

-“You know who’s going to be screaming if you don’t share those pills? Elizabeth, that’s who. Now be a good boy and give her some.”

He looked thoughtfully at the phone. He was much to hung over to take offense at Sam’s hanging up on him, but he could, sort of, see his brother’s point. No reason for all of them to be miserable.

The water was cool against his parched throat and the pills went down easily. Getting of the chair and over to Liz’s side of the table took some effort, but he managed. Waking her up, he didn’t.

Her skin was hot, feverish, and her cheeks sported the high flush of a sickly child. No matter how hard he shook her, he couldn’t get her to respond.

In his panic (she’d been fine the night before!), it took him a few seconds to realize that his phone was ringing again. He pulled it back out, hoping it was Sam, calling to bug him again. He could get his brother to meet them at a hospital.

-“Sam?”

-“Only if he’s taken to wearing skirts.”

-“Missouri?!”

-“Hello, Dean. Thought I’d give you a little call.”

-“It’s kind of bad moment…”

-“A hospital isn’t going to help that little girl, honey. That’s what I wanted to tell you. You need to call your brother and tell him you need to get them, all of them, here. As soon as you can. There’s still a little time, but… hurry.”

She was the second person to hang up on him in minutes. His fingers were already moving, though, speed dialing Sam.

-“Dean? What…?”

-“Get your ass back here, we’re leaving.”

-“Leaving?! Where…?”

-“Kansas. We’re going to go to Kansas.”

Thanks, guys. I'm glad you like.

I want to apologize in advance : this post is a little one and I won't be able to post again until Tuesday. It's a long weekend for us around here and there's no Internet connection in sight back at the new place. I can only post while at work

Have a nice weekend!!






By the time Bobby and Sam got back to the house, Dean had managed to track down Ellen, gag Jake and swaddle Liz in so many blankets that she resembled more a laundry pile than a girl. A few minutes after Missouri’s call her skin had gone cold, even more so than when they’d been outside, and her lips and eyelids had acquired a bluish tint. The blankets were warming her, but slowly. Too much so.

-“Where the fuck have you been?”

-“We just went into town for some supplies. What happened?”

-“She’s sick and Missouri says the hospital won’t help and her temp’s all over the place and we got to get everyone in the car and…”

-“Breathe!”

Dean stopped his rant and glared at his brother. He wanted to rant, damn it. It was his sacred right. The pounding in his head raised in tempo as he geared himself up for another go. Damn hang over.

-“Look, let’s just get in the car and go, ok? I’ll drive for a while so you can rest your head a bit, and I’m sure Ellen, Bobby and I are perfectly capable of keeping an eye on Elizabeth and Jake.”

It was… a generous offer. Maybe by the time they got to Lawrence he’d be feeling more like a human instead of road-kill, more capable of facing Missouri and her mighty spoon.

-“Fine. Just don’t scratch my baby. And no potholes, either!”

-“Sure.”


******************************


She came to him in his dreams. Her hair was a soft, untangled mane, spread about her shoulders and down her back, spilling onto the blood splattered couch upon which she lay. Dewy pink lips parted in a welcoming smile while her eyes became heavy lidded with pleasure.

-“Hello, Dean. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Her doe like eyes flashed with sudden fire as chocolate irises turned blood red.

As they did, more of the room came into view: the blood on the walls, the mangled bodies in the corner, the bloody handprint on her dress.

And the two figures that had been hiding in the corners.

Milky white eyes locked on his own, while their owner sent him a sardonic smile. Long legs shifted, carrying their owner to join the temptress in her repose. Bloodied lips met their like in a hungry devouring kiss.

The other watched them all impassively, full-black eyes uncaring of the scene.

Both males wore more blood on their bodies than what could have possibly belonged to those bodies in the corner.

-“Won’t you join us, love? Be eternally ours?”

Her hand was extended towards him in entreaty, her body arching as her lover feasted on her neck, as he moved between her legs.

-“Won’t you become one of us?”

A mirror appeared behind them, bringing the lovers and him into focus.

Him… and his bright, sickly yellow eyes.


******************************


He woke up just as they were crossing into Kansas, the dream… no, the nightmare still fresh in his mind’s eyes.

It had to be because of the demon’s words, the things it implied. There was no way anything of the like would ever happen. Sam… Liz… they would never… Heck, didn’t think even trunk kid would do that.

He was almost afraid of turning towards his brother, of looking into his eyes, of what he would see if he turned to look at the frail girl on the back seat.

It was a nightmare… but one that painfully resonated with reality. His father’s words the day he’d died now seemed even more ominous.

He was being a sissy, he knew, getting all freaked out over a dream, but he had promised to protect Sam.

He’d do so even if it killed him.

Looking at said brother out of the corner of his eye, he waited until light from another car’s headlights flickered on his eyes and then sighed in relief.

Warm hazel instead of murky white.

He could live with that.


******************************


Lawrence, Kansas had not changed much since the day he’d called the place his home. Even less so since the last time they’d been there. Finding Missouri’s place became a piece of cake when that was taken into account.

She’d been ready for them, with a bed all prepared for Liz and huge mugs of strong dark coffee for them all. She’d even prepared a spot for Jake, a small closet just off the living room where she usually conducted business. There was enough space in there for the guy to sit comfortably and it was already perfectly empty. Kid had wiggled like an eel in his attempt at keeping them from locking him up, but they’d persevered.

They were all getting tired over carting his ass all over the country. They needed to figure out a solution, soon.

The room they placed Liz, besides the bed, had only one other piece of furniture. A long table covered in herbs, pastes and dusts. Whatever Missouri was cooking, he sincerely hoped it wasn’t witchcraft. That thing tended to get nasty.

He watched her work though, half expecting her to start tossing around hex bags. Her fingers were quick and sure as they pressed against Liz’s temples, the sides of her throat, her chest. There they stayed several minutes, as dark eyes closed in concentration. From there, they moved down her body to her lower belly.

-“Help me turn her on her side.”

Dean held onto Liz’s shoulder and hip as a similar path was traversed over her head, neck, shoulders and all the way to her lower back.

Missouri checked the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet. She hmmm’d and ahhh’d as she did, obviously seeing something he did not.

Once she was done, she marched out into the corridor, flung open the door to Jake’s lock-up and pawed him into submission. Her inspection of the kid was just as thorough and just as invasive. By the time she was done, Jake looked a bit mauled.

Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.

Sam went next, and his cooperation saved him some pinching, but not the thoroughness. His little brother ended up blushing like a little virgin by the end of it.

They followed the older psychic into the bedroom and watched as she, seemingly dazed, trailed her fingers over the herbs so carefully arranged.

Bobby seemed content to wait endlessly and Ellen didn’t seem particularly concerned about Liz, but Dean could feel the concern pouring out of Sam. It mirrored his own, after all.

-“Well? Can you help her?”

-“I think you should all tell me what happened at that place, what happened exactly. I could feel some things and I knew I had to call Dean, but I can’t get as clear a picture over that much distance. You were nearly out of my range.”

-“You have a “range” of over two states.”

-“I’m not exactly a lightweight, boy.”

-“I’m getting that.”

Hi, guys! Thank you for the reviews. I'm glad you like it! I'm sorry to say I didn't have as much writing time as I'd hoped this weekend. I'm afraid it's a small one this time. I'll try to write a bit more next time. Enjoy!!!






Their explanations took a while. Fifteen minutes into the tale, Missouri began picking out herbs, seeds a couple of bottles with yellow and rust colored dust and a jar of some sort of oil. By the end of the retelling, she’d used mortar and pestle to grind the lot into a green gold paste.

Fingers dipping into the mixture, she moved towards Liz’s head and began drawing some sort of sigils on her forehead. From there she moved to the girl’s chest, drawing right above her heart and then moved on to her lower belly, the palms of her hands and the bottom of her feet. They rolled her onto her belly, stripping her shirt as they went, and Missouri resumed her drawing, sigils covering the line of Liz’s spine.

When they settled her back onto her back, Dean barely kept back a gasp. The sigils were glowing softly with a blue green light. The older psychic looked approvingly at the glow then settled the mortar back onto the table. She then reached across the bed and gripped Sam’s wrists.

-“Hold them steady, palms and fingers flat and aimed at her.”

-“What?”

-“I’m strong, boy, but even I can’t do this on my own.”

-“I… what exactly are we doing? What’s wrong with her?”

-“That demon… it was a real piece of work. The kind none of us want walking around. It knew things… it did things… that no demon should ever be allowed to. What he did to that girl is one of those things. I… It is something personal, something I must discuss with her before informing you. We can help her, for now. Afterwards, it is up to her.”

Sam looked at her for a second, and then extended his hands as he’d been instructed. Dean could see that the trust cost his brother. Too many things had happened for Sam to trust blindly or easily. There was too much pain in their pasts for either of them to do so.

Missouri seemed to understand this, for she didn’t push. She simply mimicked Sam, her fingertips touching his.

-“Whatever happens, whatever you feel, don’t lower your hands.”

She didn’t wait for Sam to acknowledge her comment. Her eyes closed as she began to chant. He didn’t recognize the words, they were nothing like any language he’d ever heard spoken. Still, their effect was immediate. The glow increased, power flashing from the sigils and making them look like they were made out of fire.

Their effect on Sam was also interesting. His little brother’s brow crinkled in sudden concentration, arms shaking with sudden strain. It was almost as if something was pushing his hands away, attempting to force him away from Liz.

Missouri’s chanting gradually increased in speed, and as it did all “symptoms” became more pronounced. The glow grew until it covered Sam’s and Missouri’s hands and scorching heat poured out from it in ever growing waves.

Liz’s eyes opened suddenly, lips parting as to suddenly scream. No sound came out, though, and her eyes didn’t seem capable of focusing at all. It was almost as if she were seeing something, something to far away for any of them to see, unveiled only for her.

And then her eyes rolled back until only the whites could be seen and her body began to convulse.

The chanting tapered off slowly after that.

Sam swayed in place, weakness making preying on him in a way Dean hadn’t seen since his last vision. Missouri barely had strength to shift slightly against the bed, allowing it to support most of her weight. Both of them were pale, pasty even, and covered in sweat.

Dean reached out and supported his brother, while Bobby and Ellen helped Missouri to her feet. The older psychic wouldn’t go from the room, though, without first reaching out and checking an again unconscious Liz’s pulse.

He imitated her, please when he realized the coolness of her skin and the strong beat of her heart. Whatever the fuck the demon had done to her had been, it appeared to be out of her system, at least for a while.

-“I’ll have a little chat with her later. There are some things she needs to know. You should all get some rest. The last few days have been tough for you, and they aren’t going to get easier from here on out.”


******************************


They’d ended up bunking all over the living room, with Ellen getting the couch, Bobby hogging the floor-softening rug and him and Sam ending up on the hardwood. The perils of being younger and male, revisited. As if having had to go through puberty wasn’t enough of an indignity.

Still, they’d set up Jake-watching shifts. There was no point getting sloppy now. Here, there was no chair to hold the guy down.

Even if he woke up with the crick from hell on his lower back, he slept like a baby, for which he was incredibly thankful. He didn’t want to get another look at those horrible red and white eyes or at the faces surrounding them. Seeing Sammy possessed once had been bad, but it had nothing to the way seeing those cold white eyes had made him feel.

Even worse had been looking at himself in that mirror.

He knew he was capable of falling. He wasn’t invincible, even if he had only admitted it to himself, but still… seeing what he could become… it had been chilling. And eye-opening.

Whatever it took, it’d never happen. He’d rather die.

His eyes moved towards Sammy, checking on him as he slept, limbs sprawled out as usual. How had Jess ever managed to get any sleep while beside him. He’d had a pick at their bed. A double, of all things. Poor girl had probably just hung on to the sides of it or something. Still, once he had settled on a position, Sam rarely moved again in the night. It was the getting into place that was the problem.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Somewhere up there, another young psychic slept as well. Poor girl had had the week of hell. For that matter, her last few years didn’t sound any better, either. And now this… whatever it was that the demon had done, was threatening her future, perhaps her very life.

And Missouri, standing by some psychic code of honor or something, wouldn’t let them help unless she asked.

He hated reacting.

Now acting out, that was his role.

He rolled again, this time onto his belly and in direct mirror of Sam. If she didn’t tell them on her own, he was going to have to pull the info out of her. The how was probably a good place to start.

Bribes had worked on Sammy, the chubby twelve-year-old. Candy, comics, a driving lesson. Things had been simple back then. Even when the price had been getting Dad of his back about training or figuring out a way for Sam to join his high-school play. When the bribes didn’t (and he’d still been bigger and heavier), threats had usually done the trick.

He didn’t think any of those would work on Liz.

What exactly was he supposed to bribe her with? And threatening her? She’d probably fry his balls before he got anywhere near her with any sort of “intentions”.

Whenever he tried being suave, according to Sam, he only came out as sleazy (NOT SO!!). And while he could keep up the charming act for a while, she already knew enough about him so as not to fall for it.

So what then? How could a guy get a girl to spill the beans, unwillingly, without resorting to pulling out her nails, one by one?

Movement form the corner of his eyes had him looking up, into the vaguely amused and resigned face of Missouri.

-“What exactly am I supposed to do with you boys? You’re all clueless.”

Dean had begun his sheepish-smile-and-explanation routine when the words registered.

Boys?

He looked at Sam again, and found his younger brother looking at him guiltily. And, above Sam’s shoulder, he caught Bobby hastily closing his eyes.

Well, damn.

Seems he wasn’t the only worried one.

Hi, guys! I'm afraid it's shorter than I wanted it to be, but RL's been... complicated lately. I'll try for a bigger one tomorrow. Enjoy!






Breakfast was a strained affair. The food was great, Missouri had apparently had a few lessons somewhere in her past, but they were still very tense as they played with what was on their plates.

Liz still hadn’t woken up.

And Jake was still trapped in the closet. They really needed to get rid of the guy. There was no way they’d pass unnoticed for much longer if they kept lugging his ass all over the place.

And Missouri kept giving him this long searching looks, as if she were waiting for him to trip on his own feet or something.

He wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction, if that was it.

He’d placed his feet as carefully as he knew how, to the point that Sam’d been giving him odd looks. He wasn’t lowering his guard, though.


******************************


By the time mid-morning had rolled around, they were all crawling up the walls. All of them were very active people, and waiting around was not in their nature. Ellen had been making noises about going back to what was left of her Roadhouse, and Bobby had muttered things about research, but Missouri had given them a look and they’d both shut up and stayed put.

He couldn’t blame them, not really. As worried as he was about Sam’s petite savior, he knew there were things they should be doing. The war was about to begin in earnest, they should be preparing, planning, raising supplies… not waiting for a little brunette girl to awaken.

And yet… she’d saved his brother. She’d gone with them to that cemetery to help them. She’d saved Ellen’s life.

They couldn’t just walk away now.

Especially taking into account that she was on her own.

Her husband was dead. The fact that she’d felt him die made it all the more horrifying. He’d seen with his own eyes what losing his Mom had done to his Dad. If that level of pain, of despair, existed without any sort of freaky psychic bond to complicate things…. What could possibly be going on in this girl’s heart, her very soul? Thinking about it made him shiver. It also made him wonder about the amount of strength that lived in that small body.

A quiet word with Missouri before the older psychic had made things even more real.

-“Your brother was very close, incredibly so, to binding himself to that girlfriend of his, Jessica. It would have been a one-sided bond as Elizabeth’s. you saw what losing her did to him, even when they weren’t joined. Imagine the pain, had she truly been his.”

He’d been the one with Sam through all of the stages of his grief. Had seen the anger, the pain, the fear. Had very nearly died to it back at the asylum, had very nearly let it destroy them. Had been the only thing holding the kid from an edge he might not have been able to climb back again.

He couldn’t leave this girl behind, whether he wanted to or not.

She deserved better.


******************************


The sun was already on its way to hiding when Liz’s eyes finally opened. The petite psychic looked disoriented for a few seconds, and then her eyes fixed on him.

-“Did anyone take the plates of the bus that hit me? That was some hangover.”

-“You don’t remember?”

-“Is there something I should? After our drinks last night, I think… I fell asleep at the table? Did you put me to bed?”

-“Hmmm…. It’s been a day since that. You didn’t wake up the next morning, had this really bad fever, so we brought you to one of our Dad’s friends. Her name’s Missouri. I think you’ll like her.”

-“Wait, what? I… didn’t wake up? Or I couldn’t? and what do you mean, a fever? And why am I all sticky?”

-“That’s… I think I better let her explain. She said she wanted to have a little chat with you when you woke. Said something about a decision you had to make.”

-“Dean? What…? Wait!”

He left the room before she could say another word. He didn’t know how to explain for her what’d happened. Missouri was the one with the answers and she wasn’t squealing anytime soon.

He found the older psychic in the kitchen, calmly waiting for him. She’d obviously felt Liz’s waking, for she’d already prepared a tray to take up to her.

-“Girly hasn’t got that good a set of teeth, you know? She wasn’t going to bite you if you said you didn’t know.”

-“Yeah, well… thought she’d feel more comfortable getting her info at the source. You can make it girl talk or something.”

Her lips pursed as she gave him one of her looks. Let her. After his Dad’s glares, he was immune to almost anyone else.

-“I’ve got a wooden spoon with your name, boy, so don’t try me.”

He raised his hands in pretend surrender and moved out of her way. She “hmmphd” at him as she went past, but mercifully remained silent.

He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be invited in if he followed her. Whatever she had to tell Liz, he was sure there was something fishy with it. He was also sure they wouldn’t tell him, at least for the moment.

So he went in search of Sam. And plotted.


******************************


His brother had, somehow, managed to weasel himself into Missouri’s good graces. In such a standing, he’d also managed to get access to her Internet connection, which the little shit had kept quiet about, and was happily surfing the web when Dean finally found him. He’d considering murdering the little ass, but then decided that revenge was a dish best served cold. It increased his plotting quotient for the day, but someone had to do it. Might as well be him that enjoyed the results.

Sam’s bunny-in-the-headlights look was also a great incentive.

Still, even while he played, Sam’s ethic’s kept him from being all fun. Kid already had 3 possible hunts for them and had several search engines working.

He’d made someone a great secretary.

Yes, he was telling him that.

-“You’d have made some one a great secretary. A bit hairy on the leg, but still…”

-“Dude, shut up!”

-“Aw, Sammy. I’m hurt. Here I am worrying about potential careers for you and you’re all aggressive against me.”

-“You’re just picturing that Secretary movie you saw last week, the one with the freaking pony-play!”

-“You know… I hadn’t actually thought about that. Kinky, Sam, very kinky. Nice visuals though.”

-“Oh, God.”

-“Don’t be a sissy, bro. I promise not to picture it… much. It’s sort of sick. And twisted. Still… Anyway, Liz’s awake.”

-“She is? Is she alright? What’d she say? What’d Missouri say?”

-“Dude! Chill! She looked fine to me, and Missouri’s talking to her right now.”

Sam gave him a look that was almost smug.

-“Still won’t tell you anything?”

-“Woman’s like a freaking terminator on a mission. She won’t say a thing but she’ll drag us all along for the ride.”

-“Ah, c’mon. You loved those movies.”

-“I never said I wanted to be in one.”


******************************


By the time the “ladies” had come out of that room, dean had managed to wrestle the laptop out of Sam’s hand’s and had the proceeded to demolish all of his brother’s pinball and solitaire scores. He was working through the minefield one’s when he looked up and caught Liz’s eyes.

She was looking at him in a way that eerily reminded him of Missouri. As if he were a bug in a jar.

Just what the heck had they been talking about up there?