Just Get Through This Night by Just Ruth
Title: Just Get Through This Night
Author: Just Ruth
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Ellen Harvelle, Jo Harvelle, Pamela Barnes, Ash and assorted dead hunters
Rating: PG - 13
Disclaimers: Supernatural is the property of Eric Kripe and the CW. Characters/Situations are being borrowed for entertainment purposes only. You think anyone would pay me for this?
Summary: The Harvelle women and the rising of the Witnesses
Thanks to autumnlilacs for a quick and helpful beta
Word count: 1773
********
THEN:
Searing white light, blinding, burning pain -- I'm sorry. a regretful whisper echoed in her mind.
"Call 911!" Bobby shouted.
"I can't see!" Pamela Barnes shrieked as Bobby caught her hands. "I can't see!" Her blue eyes were empty sockets weeping tears of blood.
NOW:
And she had thought that she couldn't be sweet talked by a man ever again. Please, Ellen. She can't be left alone. Bobby Singer had said. You're the only one I can count on.
I've heard of Pamela Barnes, Bobby. What's happened?
There's been an accident . . . she's blind.
Accident. The woman's eyes had been burned out of her skull and Bobby called it an accident. Bobby hadn't said exactly what happened, but Ellen Harvelle had a nasty feeling that Sam Winchester had been involved. Winchesters tended to breed accidents.
Ellen held her elbow as she helped the taller woman from her white Jimmy. Pam had bandages around her eyes, making her look a little like a classic version of Justice. Ellen helped her into the house, grateful that Pamela lived on a single level. "Where do you want to be, honey?"
"Please call me Pam. Just let me sit on the couch for now," she paused, suddenly turning her head as if she heard something.
Ellen listened as well, but heard nothing. "Pam?" she asked. Pamela Barnes was known among the Hunters for her powerful psychic gifts.
"Who's Ash?" Pam turned to face her. Ellen felt something lurch in her heart.
"Ash?" she kept her voice as calm as she could. "He's dead." Ellen clenched her fists on top of the table. "Over a year now." Another Winchester accident.
"Oh, that explains it." Pam nodded. "He's trying to send you a message." She turned her head again, frowning in concentration. "He's sorry." Pam continued. "He's very sorry."
"I don't blame him for anything, dear." Ellen picked up the fallen chairs and scraped with a fingernail at the melted wax in the center of the table. She then pulled out a knife and dug at the mess.
"Watch for the red moon. He says to stock up on salt."
"Salt?" Ellen frowned.
"He's very emphatic on that." Pam turned and felt her way to the couch. "Stock up on lots of salt."
"Well, that we can do." Ellen rubbed her forehead. "After we clean up and get some sandwiches." She shook her head and put her knife away. The puddle of melted wax was beyond her right now.
"Ellen, thank you." Pam said. "I appreciate you being here."
"I'm glad to help."
*******
The next day, Ellen stacked three boxes of table salt on the kitchen counter as she put away the groceries she'd just bought. Two large bags of rock salt rested behind the door. She had also bought a box of extra shotgun shells which she put on the kitchen table. Pam felt the boxes on the counter to acquaint herself with their location. She hugged herself suddenly and shivered.
"Are you cold?" Ellen asked as she took a bowl of rock salt and began filling the shell casings.
"No. There's something wrong. . . I can feel it, but I can't tell what it is." Pam sat down and felt the bowl. "What are you doing? Can I help?"
"I don't see why not." Ellen scooted her chair over and let Pam feel the casings. "You don't need to put in much. . . here, feel the level in this one. Yes, that's right. Here's the cap."
"I've done this before." Pamela fumbled. "I just have to re-learn it."
"You'll get the hang of it, honey."
"I have to, don't I?"
The distinctive sputter of a motorcycle came up the driveway. "Are you expecting anyone, Pam?"
"No."
"Stay here." Ellen stood up and loaded two newly-made salt rounds into her sawed off. No sense being caught unprepared. She snapped the shot gun closed and slipped to the window, peeking through the blinds without being seen.
The sleek, black Kawasaki pulled up near the front steps of the single-story saltbox. The rider was androgynous in black jeans, a bulky leather jacket and a large back pack; face totally hidden by the semi-opaque face shield of the helmet. The rider pulled up the helmet and shook loose shoulder-length blonde hair.
Ellen set the gun aside and opened the door. "Jo!" She called. "What are you doing here?"
"Mom!" Jo ran to her. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine; what are you doing here?" Ellen demanded. "Oh, come here!" She grabbed her in a quick, tight hug. "Last I heard, you were in Minnesota. . ." Ellen glanced over her daughter's shoulder. The moon was rising; reddish in the evening light.
"Would you believe I had a dream?" Jo asked. "It was Ash. He told me I had to find you and Bobby said you were here."
"Jesse!" Pam shrieked. "Jesse! No!"
They ran back into the house. Pam was trapped against the wall by the grey-faced spirit of a man that was sinking his hands into her torso. Pam choked and struggled.
The slim stiletto Jo had inherited from her father, steel blessed by Jim Murphy, was thrown across the room to sink through the spirit and dissipate it.
"Salt!" Ellen barked, swallowing her questions in a rush of shock and sudden fear. "Get the rock salt around the perimeter of the kitchen; I'll get a circle around the table! Pam, sit here, are you all right?"
Pam was gasping for air. "Jesse." She panted. "He returned."
"Mom!" Jo cried and Ellen turned. She felt the color drain from her face. Another spirit had come into the house.
She knew this one.
"Sully." She named the hunter; one of the many who died in the explosion of the Roadhouse.
"Trusted you, bitch!" he rasped. "The Roadhouse was the one place we were supposed to be safe -"
Ellen grabbed the bowl of rock salt from the table and hurled it into Sully's face. He vanished.
"I've got two boxes of shells in my pack." Jo dumped it on the table. "My gun's out in my saddle bag."
"I wouldn't risk going after it, not until we know what we're up against. Ellen retrieved her sawed-off. She only had a baker's dozen of rounds; she had hoped to fill more.
"I have a shotgun in my wardrobe - false bottom." Pam was still shaking. Jo nodded and went for it. Ellen watched her back until they were within the salt circle.
Another spirit; Jo called him, "Rick" - was blasted with salt before they were ready for their siege. Pam had another bowl of salt and was filling rounds with shaking hands. Ellen set a battery operated lantern on the table. Jo stepped over the circle of table salt. There were two silver flasks and a canteen on the table.
"I hear them." Pam whispered. "They're on the wind - the angry ones. They're in pain."
Ellen touched her shoulder as she circled the table. Jo laid out shells in a row to be ready to grab and load.
"What happened to your eyes?" Jo asked.
"I looked on the face of an angel." Pamela sighed. "Bobby came to me trying to find out what brought Dean Winchester back from hell."
"What?" Jo exclaimed. Ellen's jaw clenched.
"They're coming." Pamela said.
*****
Sully again. Mack. Brian. Diana. Smithee. Baron. Caldwell and Devon. Ellen could name them all. Jo's ghost Rick showed again. As did one who she called "Preacher". Jesse appeared twice. All of them screaming that it was their fault they died. The air curdled cold around them. Ellen leaned against the table. Jo rubbed her eyes.
Pam was still seated. She'd been filling shells as steadily as she could. She rested her head in her hands.
"Yes." She murmured. "Yes. I hear you. Yes. I will help you."
The door blew off its hinges.
They were all there - all the ghosts, shouting accusations. The chill turned their breath into clouds of steam. Both Ellen and Jo backed up to flank Pamela. The salt circle began to erode.
"Hey!" shouted a man's voice. "Hey, you assholes!"
"Ash?" Ellen gasped.
"Ash!" Jo cried.
He was behind the crowd, his reddish golden hair blowing in an unseen wind. He waved his arms. "I'm the one who called you to the Roadhouse! I'm the one you should be blaming! Me, you dead turkeys! Me!"
The Hunters turned.
"Come on!" Ash screamed. "You want someone to blame? Here I am."
Ellen blasted Rick in the face. Jo's shots dropped Preacher and Jesse.
"Load." Ellen shoved three shells towards Jo.
"Mom. . . That's all we've got."
"You load two! I'll take the last one."
The air chilled, meaning the other spirits were coming back.
Ash was lost in the screaming, mauling mob the other side of the broken doors.
Pamela abruptly sat up, her spine military straight. Her voice rose and fell with an odd echo as she chanted in Aramaic.
A blinding wave of pure white light washed over the room. The ghosts screamed as if in terrible agony.
"Jo!" Ellen caught her daughter in a one-armed embrace as soon as she could see.
"I'm all right." Jo leaned against her a moment. "What happened?"
Pamela rose from the table and walked to the broken door. A streak of yellow hung above the trees in the eastern sky. "The Witnesses were sent back, but it's too late."
"Too late?" Ellen frowned.
"To stop the end of the world." Ash appeared behind them. He looked gray, weary and semi-transparent. "The opening of the Hell Gate was one sign. The Rising of the Witnesses was another. It's why I had to come back - unfinished business."
"Ash?" Jo stepped towards him.
"I don't have much time, let me finish, Jo. I never meant to start a rift between you and your Mom but I did when I gave you help to get you started hunting." Ash shook his head. "My head is so much clearer now. Listen, both of you. Ellen, don't blame Sam and Dean; this started long before they were born. Jo, don't try to contact them - they've got their own problems. Right now? There's a whole lot of really bad things that are going to happen and you and Ellen need to have each others backs. Pam needs you too."
"Ash!" said Ellen as he faded.
"Been good knowing you. Been real good. . ." Ash vanished in a wink of white light.
The three women reached out and hugged each other.
The sun rose.
Author: Just Ruth
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Ellen Harvelle, Jo Harvelle, Pamela Barnes, Ash and assorted dead hunters
Rating: PG - 13
Disclaimers: Supernatural is the property of Eric Kripe and the CW. Characters/Situations are being borrowed for entertainment purposes only. You think anyone would pay me for this?
Summary: The Harvelle women and the rising of the Witnesses
Thanks to autumnlilacs for a quick and helpful beta
Word count: 1773
********
THEN:
Searing white light, blinding, burning pain -- I'm sorry. a regretful whisper echoed in her mind.
"Call 911!" Bobby shouted.
"I can't see!" Pamela Barnes shrieked as Bobby caught her hands. "I can't see!" Her blue eyes were empty sockets weeping tears of blood.
NOW:
And she had thought that she couldn't be sweet talked by a man ever again. Please, Ellen. She can't be left alone. Bobby Singer had said. You're the only one I can count on.
I've heard of Pamela Barnes, Bobby. What's happened?
There's been an accident . . . she's blind.
Accident. The woman's eyes had been burned out of her skull and Bobby called it an accident. Bobby hadn't said exactly what happened, but Ellen Harvelle had a nasty feeling that Sam Winchester had been involved. Winchesters tended to breed accidents.
Ellen held her elbow as she helped the taller woman from her white Jimmy. Pam had bandages around her eyes, making her look a little like a classic version of Justice. Ellen helped her into the house, grateful that Pamela lived on a single level. "Where do you want to be, honey?"
"Please call me Pam. Just let me sit on the couch for now," she paused, suddenly turning her head as if she heard something.
Ellen listened as well, but heard nothing. "Pam?" she asked. Pamela Barnes was known among the Hunters for her powerful psychic gifts.
"Who's Ash?" Pam turned to face her. Ellen felt something lurch in her heart.
"Ash?" she kept her voice as calm as she could. "He's dead." Ellen clenched her fists on top of the table. "Over a year now." Another Winchester accident.
"Oh, that explains it." Pam nodded. "He's trying to send you a message." She turned her head again, frowning in concentration. "He's sorry." Pam continued. "He's very sorry."
"I don't blame him for anything, dear." Ellen picked up the fallen chairs and scraped with a fingernail at the melted wax in the center of the table. She then pulled out a knife and dug at the mess.
"Watch for the red moon. He says to stock up on salt."
"Salt?" Ellen frowned.
"He's very emphatic on that." Pam turned and felt her way to the couch. "Stock up on lots of salt."
"Well, that we can do." Ellen rubbed her forehead. "After we clean up and get some sandwiches." She shook her head and put her knife away. The puddle of melted wax was beyond her right now.
"Ellen, thank you." Pam said. "I appreciate you being here."
"I'm glad to help."
*******
The next day, Ellen stacked three boxes of table salt on the kitchen counter as she put away the groceries she'd just bought. Two large bags of rock salt rested behind the door. She had also bought a box of extra shotgun shells which she put on the kitchen table. Pam felt the boxes on the counter to acquaint herself with their location. She hugged herself suddenly and shivered.
"Are you cold?" Ellen asked as she took a bowl of rock salt and began filling the shell casings.
"No. There's something wrong. . . I can feel it, but I can't tell what it is." Pam sat down and felt the bowl. "What are you doing? Can I help?"
"I don't see why not." Ellen scooted her chair over and let Pam feel the casings. "You don't need to put in much. . . here, feel the level in this one. Yes, that's right. Here's the cap."
"I've done this before." Pamela fumbled. "I just have to re-learn it."
"You'll get the hang of it, honey."
"I have to, don't I?"
The distinctive sputter of a motorcycle came up the driveway. "Are you expecting anyone, Pam?"
"No."
"Stay here." Ellen stood up and loaded two newly-made salt rounds into her sawed off. No sense being caught unprepared. She snapped the shot gun closed and slipped to the window, peeking through the blinds without being seen.
The sleek, black Kawasaki pulled up near the front steps of the single-story saltbox. The rider was androgynous in black jeans, a bulky leather jacket and a large back pack; face totally hidden by the semi-opaque face shield of the helmet. The rider pulled up the helmet and shook loose shoulder-length blonde hair.
Ellen set the gun aside and opened the door. "Jo!" She called. "What are you doing here?"
"Mom!" Jo ran to her. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine; what are you doing here?" Ellen demanded. "Oh, come here!" She grabbed her in a quick, tight hug. "Last I heard, you were in Minnesota. . ." Ellen glanced over her daughter's shoulder. The moon was rising; reddish in the evening light.
"Would you believe I had a dream?" Jo asked. "It was Ash. He told me I had to find you and Bobby said you were here."
"Jesse!" Pam shrieked. "Jesse! No!"
They ran back into the house. Pam was trapped against the wall by the grey-faced spirit of a man that was sinking his hands into her torso. Pam choked and struggled.
The slim stiletto Jo had inherited from her father, steel blessed by Jim Murphy, was thrown across the room to sink through the spirit and dissipate it.
"Salt!" Ellen barked, swallowing her questions in a rush of shock and sudden fear. "Get the rock salt around the perimeter of the kitchen; I'll get a circle around the table! Pam, sit here, are you all right?"
Pam was gasping for air. "Jesse." She panted. "He returned."
"Mom!" Jo cried and Ellen turned. She felt the color drain from her face. Another spirit had come into the house.
She knew this one.
"Sully." She named the hunter; one of the many who died in the explosion of the Roadhouse.
"Trusted you, bitch!" he rasped. "The Roadhouse was the one place we were supposed to be safe -"
Ellen grabbed the bowl of rock salt from the table and hurled it into Sully's face. He vanished.
"I've got two boxes of shells in my pack." Jo dumped it on the table. "My gun's out in my saddle bag."
"I wouldn't risk going after it, not until we know what we're up against. Ellen retrieved her sawed-off. She only had a baker's dozen of rounds; she had hoped to fill more.
"I have a shotgun in my wardrobe - false bottom." Pam was still shaking. Jo nodded and went for it. Ellen watched her back until they were within the salt circle.
Another spirit; Jo called him, "Rick" - was blasted with salt before they were ready for their siege. Pam had another bowl of salt and was filling rounds with shaking hands. Ellen set a battery operated lantern on the table. Jo stepped over the circle of table salt. There were two silver flasks and a canteen on the table.
"I hear them." Pam whispered. "They're on the wind - the angry ones. They're in pain."
Ellen touched her shoulder as she circled the table. Jo laid out shells in a row to be ready to grab and load.
"What happened to your eyes?" Jo asked.
"I looked on the face of an angel." Pamela sighed. "Bobby came to me trying to find out what brought Dean Winchester back from hell."
"What?" Jo exclaimed. Ellen's jaw clenched.
"They're coming." Pamela said.
*****
Sully again. Mack. Brian. Diana. Smithee. Baron. Caldwell and Devon. Ellen could name them all. Jo's ghost Rick showed again. As did one who she called "Preacher". Jesse appeared twice. All of them screaming that it was their fault they died. The air curdled cold around them. Ellen leaned against the table. Jo rubbed her eyes.
Pam was still seated. She'd been filling shells as steadily as she could. She rested her head in her hands.
"Yes." She murmured. "Yes. I hear you. Yes. I will help you."
The door blew off its hinges.
They were all there - all the ghosts, shouting accusations. The chill turned their breath into clouds of steam. Both Ellen and Jo backed up to flank Pamela. The salt circle began to erode.
"Hey!" shouted a man's voice. "Hey, you assholes!"
"Ash?" Ellen gasped.
"Ash!" Jo cried.
He was behind the crowd, his reddish golden hair blowing in an unseen wind. He waved his arms. "I'm the one who called you to the Roadhouse! I'm the one you should be blaming! Me, you dead turkeys! Me!"
The Hunters turned.
"Come on!" Ash screamed. "You want someone to blame? Here I am."
Ellen blasted Rick in the face. Jo's shots dropped Preacher and Jesse.
"Load." Ellen shoved three shells towards Jo.
"Mom. . . That's all we've got."
"You load two! I'll take the last one."
The air chilled, meaning the other spirits were coming back.
Ash was lost in the screaming, mauling mob the other side of the broken doors.
Pamela abruptly sat up, her spine military straight. Her voice rose and fell with an odd echo as she chanted in Aramaic.
A blinding wave of pure white light washed over the room. The ghosts screamed as if in terrible agony.
"Jo!" Ellen caught her daughter in a one-armed embrace as soon as she could see.
"I'm all right." Jo leaned against her a moment. "What happened?"
Pamela rose from the table and walked to the broken door. A streak of yellow hung above the trees in the eastern sky. "The Witnesses were sent back, but it's too late."
"Too late?" Ellen frowned.
"To stop the end of the world." Ash appeared behind them. He looked gray, weary and semi-transparent. "The opening of the Hell Gate was one sign. The Rising of the Witnesses was another. It's why I had to come back - unfinished business."
"Ash?" Jo stepped towards him.
"I don't have much time, let me finish, Jo. I never meant to start a rift between you and your Mom but I did when I gave you help to get you started hunting." Ash shook his head. "My head is so much clearer now. Listen, both of you. Ellen, don't blame Sam and Dean; this started long before they were born. Jo, don't try to contact them - they've got their own problems. Right now? There's a whole lot of really bad things that are going to happen and you and Ellen need to have each others backs. Pam needs you too."
"Ash!" said Ellen as he faded.
"Been good knowing you. Been real good. . ." Ash vanished in a wink of white light.
The three women reached out and hugged each other.
The sun rose.