"Tell me, Liora"
Please note that this is just fast fiction, completely unedited in any way (with the exception of spell-check), and completed in one sitting.
((Technically two, I grabbed dinner in the middle.))
"Tell me, Liora, is this the first time you've seen this?"
"What do you mean is this the first time," Liora snapped back. She wiped at her eyes, smearing her mascara on her cheeks. Her angry attitude belies the fact that she was sobbing into Dean's chest just moments before. "I've been calling everyone I could think of for MONTHS. No one could help me, not one believed me. My friends abandoned me, my family called me crazy, the cops arrested me and held me because they thought I was pranking them and when they heard my story I was locked up in the mental ward of the hospital for a week. This pisses me off. This terrifies me. Now you come and ask me if I've seen it before?" She pokes her finger into Dean's chest, punctuating her words. Tears flow on her cheeks again, but angry tears. Dean lifts his hands in a surrendering gesture and looks over her head to Sam who stands behind her watching the scene. Dean sees with annoyance that Sam is holding back laughter and his lips twist into a scowl. Liora catches Dean's expression and rounds on Sam.
"What, are you gonna call me a loony, too? You're just like everyone else. You hear about whats happening and come to laugh at me. Well, Fuck Off you... You... You cretins!"
"Liora, please, just calm down," Sam says, stepping forward, trying to placate the small and feisty woman. She pulls away from him violently and scowls. "Just tell us how it all started. Maybe we can help you."
"No one can help me," she says with a scowl that turns to a pout. "I'm just cursed. Just a fucking cursed freak that, I don't know, that's destined to die alone after being terrorized by this stupid whatever it is."
"If you don't tell us, you'll never know if we can help you or not," Dean prompts. Shrugging behind Liora's back to Sam.
"Fine, have a seat and I'll start some tea and clean my face up," Liora says, gesturing to the beat up and threadbare couch. "If you want something other than tea, let me know now."
"I'll take a beer," Dean says, a hopeful note in his voice.
"I'm not licensed for that," Liora replies, her back to them, walking to the bar area where all the coffee machines are sitting silent.
"Tea will be just fine," Sam replies, shooting Dean an irritated glare.
"I might have one in my refrigerator in the back," she says after pressing a button on one of the machines. She pushes her way through a beaded curtain and disappears into a different room leaving Sam and Dean standing in the most empty coffee shop either of them had ever seen before.
"So, do you think she's loony," Dean asks Sam, a chuckle in his voice. He plops down on the couch and puts his feet up on the worn coffee table, his feet disrupt the old and outdated magazines and knock a few to the floor. Sam sighs and picks the magazines up and leafs through them before moving them to one of the smaller end tables. Still standing and looking around the room, Sam shakes his head.
"I don't think so, Dean." He steps over and looks at a small spot near the air vent in the ceiling, reaching up and brushing at it. When he brings his fingers away they're clean. He grunts in surprise before carefully lowering himself to the couch next to his brother.
"What did you see?"
"I don't know. Looked like it was something, but nothing was there." Sam holds his hand up to Dean and the pair of them shrug.
"Liora's kinda hot," Dean says with a grin.
"We're here on a case." Sam represses a groan and opens his mouth to say something when Liora pushes back through the beaded curtains. Her makeup is fixed and flawless and she's carrying a few beers. She moves around the counter and knocks them into Dean's feet in a 'get your feet of my table' gesture before plunking them heavily down on the table. She goes back and fills a ceramic teapot with hot water and looks at Sam.
"What kind of tea do you like?"
"I," Sam begins.
"You don't drink tea, I can see that much, I'll get us something nice and boring," Liora says, completely interrupting Sam. Dean chuckles at his brother and Sam shoots Dean a scowl.
When she returns with some piping mugs and a small pot of tea she places them on the table and then sits in the battered wingback chair that faces the couch. Her expression is troubled, serious, and anxious. She glances around the room and lifts the cup to her lips. She takes a sip and then lowers her cup. She stares at the glossy surface, not meeting their faces. Sam lifts the tea to his lips and takes a tentative sip before putting the cup on the table while looking around the room again. Dean takes a swallow of his beer and stares at Liora expectantly.
"I bought this place for cheap, all the furniture, too. This is all my money. My life. My everything." She takes a deep breath and lifts the cup to her lips with shaking hands. "I ended up moving in to the upstairs apartment shortly after spending my money on everything. I had been planning on renting it out for some extra money but after three tenants moved out after the first few weeks of each living here I couldn't justify renting it out to anyone else, even if I had extra cash from them all breaking their leases. The business was good and I was planning on extra hours anyway. Super early for the truckers and commuters, super late for the college kids. I convinced myself that being on location would mean just one stagger up the stairs and I could then pass out peacefully. Less work and worry about commute, too. It seemed like such a good plan.
"Well, I moved out and sublet my own apartment until I could get out of the lease and moved in. Things were going really well for the first week. I was able to manage the extra hours and it was all liked I hoped. Able to stagger up to my bed at 2am and back down at 5am. I had a college girl working the mid morning shift so I could nap again and handle the rest of the day. The something strange started happening in the apartment. Doors would be locked when I wasn't expecting them or things moved out of the fridge and set on the counter to spoil. I just guessed that I was so tired from the long hours that I was doing it all. Then my help quit. She said that in the morning lull she would hear what sounded like things being moved around the floor of the apartment, or bowling or something. Occasionally she'd hear the same thing from the basement. Something shuffling around. I hired a a guy next. He called the cops when he heard something in the backroom. He said he went back there and everything was tossed on the floor. Like someone was looking for something. The cops were here for hours but didn't find anyone or anything that looked like foul play, and nothing was missing from inventory so they wrote it off as a prank.
"Can you show us these places," Sam interrupts. Liora looks up and her eyes are haunted. Despite the perfect makeup the dark circles under her eyes are clear as day.
"I think you need to hear the rest before I show you anything. Then, I'm going to hand you my keys and with the last of my money I'm going to a hotel."
"You can have our room," Dean tells her, fishing out the key from his pocket. Sam looks at his brother in wide eyed astonishment for a moment before nodding. Liora reaches out and takes the over-sized plastic diamond tag and looks at the name of the hotel. She laughs for a moment then nods.
"Thanks. Like I was saying, the cops just wrote it off as a prank and left. My day was royally fucked because I had to be woken from my nap and I was so tired but the lunch rush was starting and I couldn't afford to leave the kid on his own, especially with all the cleaning in the back room that needed doing. We made it through the next few weeks somewhat unscathed, and strange things kept happening upstairs and down, but the floor was left alone. Then, in the afternoon lull I was wiping down the counter and cleaning the machines by myself because I had sent the kid to the store for more soy milk. I heard something in the backroom and went back to ask if he had brought back more than just two cartons this time and no one was in there. I stood in the middle of the backroom when everything crashed in on me at once. Even the metal shelving came down. I broke my arm and had to hire a few new people to help because I just couldn't do it alone and I didn't want to be here alone anymore.
"One week after getting my cast off, I took a small vacation. I went to see my sister in the next town. The second day I was there I got a frantic call saying that they smelled smoke from my apartment and they couldn't get the door open. I hopped in my car and raced home, glad that I was only about 30 minutes away. When I got back I found two of the kids standing on the sidewalk looking at something before them. I could tell it was a body, but I didn't realize that it was the first girl I had hired until I got much closer. Apparently she was walking past the coffee shop, saw the fire in the windows and rushed in to tell them while calling 911. After warning the whole, packed, cafe that it was on fire, she was trampled to death by the crowd trying to escape. The fire department never arrived and when the kids came down from upstairs after calling me they found her body. They had called 911, but no one had come and it had been almost 40 minutes."
"But wait. Isn't the fire department, like fifty feet down the road?"
"Good eyes, Sam, yeah, it is. I walked down there and knocked on the door and told them the situation. A few of them grabbed a stretcher while others got in the vehicles and I walked back. When I got back the others were gone. I stood with the body as the firemen ran up, then I went inside and tried to get into my apartment. They key didn't work at first, but when it did I found my cat dead on the floor, the back of the door was clawed up and bloody. There wasn't any sign of fire, and no smell of smoke at all. When I got back downstairs I saw the phone flashing that there were voicemails and every single staff member I had decided to quit after that tragedy.
"I was questioned by the cops so many times, they called my sister to make sure I was really at her place, and they tracked down all the other employees and questioned them, too. I even made it into the paper," she said with a shake of the head and a frown. She pulled a rumpled piece of newsprint from her apron pocket and lifted her cup to her lips while never lifting her chin. Dean picked up the scrap, but didn't look at it. "After that, the only people that would come were out-of-towners and the 'alternative' crowd. Death seekers and freaks. Some would lay on the pavement while others would snap pictures with their cellphones. I made money off of them and since all my morning crowd was gone I started opening at 11 for the lunch crowd. The freaks liked the late hours and would stay until I kicked them out. I tried doing open mike nights and hiring bands and things to help get more people in. Not even my friends would come and play though. That's when I started hearing the noises, too. Rustling in the backroom, shuffling in the basement, and heavy things being moved around in my apartment above. I decided to hold 'ghost parties' and even 'seance nights' where people could come in and ghost hunt or hold seances to see if they could find something.
"It got worse after that. My apartment was trashed. TV shattered on the floor, all my plates pushed from the cabinets, knives lodged into my bed. I called the cops, and after nothing was found, I called the local churches. Most just hung up on me. Only one of the Catholic churches sent a Priest who turned around and walked out before I had a chance to greet him. I chased him halfway down the block and he told me he would ask around but he couldn't do anything.
"That's when I decided to call the cops every time I heard something, and that's how I ended up in the loony bin. I got back here and have been doing my best to keep things together, but now not even the freaks are coming anymore. I close shop on the first, so I have one more week before this place is closed and everything is sold. If you're as good as I've heard from the Priest, maybe I won't have to close. I just don't know anymore." Her voice hitched and she set the cup on the coffee table. She gestured to the men as she walked into the beaded curtain, swatting the strands aside. Her shoulders were slumped and she looked tired and defeated, but Sam and Dean stood and followed her. "The backroom is in there. There's a door to the outside. That key is the blue one. The stairs in the corner lead to my apartment and the trapdoor in the other corner leads to the basement. I've never been down there, and have no desire to go. You'll have to move the freezer chest to get the door to open."
Dean stared at the freezer chest and he pointed at it. Sam looked, then nodded. Liora walked to the stairs and lifted the duffel bag that was sitting on the steps. She unclipped some keys from the keyring and tossed them to Dean. "Purple key is my apartment, green is the front door. The other keys have go to the corresponding dots on the doors or cabinets. Pretty damned easy if you ask me." She fishes into her apron again and pulls out a business card and a pen. She scribbles on the back of it and steps forward. "This is my number. You know where I'm staying. You're welcome to the apartment upstairs. I'll see you when you're done, or in a week."
With that, Liora walked out and didn't look back. The chime of the front door bell was muted, but the slam from the door shutting wasn't. Soon, the sound of moving furniture could be heard and it sounded like the heavy antique couch that they had been sitting on just moments before. Dean turned and began to walk out the beaded curtain when one of the dilapidated chairs flew through the doorway, ripping the beads down and almost knocking Dean out.
"I didn't think it was this bad," Sam said, ducking out of the way of another chair flying through the doorway. He turned to watch it shatter on the floor just behind him.
"Just shut up and lets get out there to see if we can see anything," Dean grunted. One of the closed bottles of beer crashed into the door frame, splattering them both with broken glass and too warm beer.
"That's strange," Sam said while wiping his face.
"Oh, what's that," Dean grumbled, shaking himself off with a scowl.
"Those beers were cold, weren't they?
"Yeah, they were I... Huh."
"Yeah, huh," Sam said mockingly. He stood on his toes, leaning around the door frame and looking into the main floor. The room was empty. Out of a shadow near the vent came one of the cups that they had been drinking from just moments before, the tea heated back to scaldingly hot. It shattered above the doorway and steaming hot tea rained down.
"Let's check out the basement first," Dean suggested moving over and shoving the chest off the trap door. When he reached down to unlatch the door he was shoved back. Sam helped him up and they scanned the area but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Sam kicked at the latch and it came open quickly. They looked at one another for a moment when Dean scowled and grabbed the knot of rope that was the handle and gave it a yank.
The door opened silently and easily and the inky darkness wasn't broached by the light on the ceiling. Just as the cellar door clunked into the wall, all the power went out with an audible popping and then the whining sound of electronics powering down. Dean cursed and Sam lifted his phone. After a few presses of some buttons the flash for his camera came on, providing some light in the oppressive darkness. Dean fished out a small flashlight from his jacket pocket and clicked it on as well and he hooked the rope on the hook meant to hold it. As he was pushing the latch down that locked the door open, he heard Sam grunt behind him and the extra light went out with a heavy thump that shook the floor. Dean spun around in time to watch Sam be pulled into the basement by tentacles of shadow. With a curse he hopped into the unnatural darkness and tried to run down the steps in pursuit of his brother.
Dean's normally bright flashlight barely lit the wooden steps below his feet but he kept running. After a moment he stopped and looked up, not daring to take his flashlight off the boards below his feet. He reached his empty hand up, looking for the ceiling, the over looking for a wall but found neither. A quick flash of the light confirmed that the stairs were surrounded by nothing but darkness and he grimaced.
"Sam? Sammy?" His voice seemed to be muted by the darkness. "Sam? God damn it, SAM!" With a huffing sigh, Dean continued moving down the stairs cautiously. Even though he couldn't see into the darkness and his flashlight was illuminating the stairs at his feet he would turn his head from side to side, trying to see or hear something.
After what seemed like an eternity, the stairs ended on a packed dirt floor. Dean reached out again, trying to find a wall or the ceiling with no luck. He cursed under his breath and lifted the light, shining it into the darkness. As he did, Dean noticed that the light seemed to be eaten by the roiling, inky shadows. He stepped forward, hissing out a whisper, "Sammy?" He reached into his jacket, pulling out his demon killing knife. He switched hands so that his left hand held the light and his right held the knife and he crept on as silently as possible. He constantly turned, trying to watch in every direction at once. As the flashlight swept the blackness both recoiled from the light, but also as the edge of the light's halo, it seemed to try and reach up to devour it.
In the darkness Dean could hear a scraping sound, but no matter how he tried, he couldn't locate it. It came from everywhere at once, all around him even above him he could hear an unnerving scraping noise. He stopped moving, crouching down and using the tip of the blade to scratch into the earth he made an arrow to show what direction he was walking. While still in a crouch he turned slowly in a full circle, trying to see or hear anything. Just out of sight, the shadows began to grow more solid and started to reach for him.
After Sam was snatched down the stairs he fell unconscious. When he came to, he was frozen, and it was hard to breath. The darkness seemed to be stealing the life from his body. He groaned and tried to pull himself to his feet, his teeth chattering. It was so dark Sam couldn't see anything.
"Dean? DEAN! Where are you?"
The silence was deafening. Shivering he finally made it to his feet. He put one hand out before him and reached into his jacket with the other, drawing out his pistol. He turned slowly, looking for any source of light to no avail. He groaned and shuddered, taking a step forward, and another, and another. He noticed as he moved forward that he could see his breath steaming before him.
"Dean? There's light down here but I can't see anything. I can't quite explain it. Dean? Are you there?"
Silence returned to his ears, and Sam's teeth clattered and chattered as he crept forward. There was a thump from above him and he froze. He looked up, pulling his gun close to him so that it couldn't be easily knocked from his grip. Sam stared up silently, waiting to see something or hear something else. After a moment there was another loud thump that made the air vibrate. Sam looked around, unable to locate the source of the thump. He exhaled, making sure he could still see his breath, a large plume obscured his vision. Shivering he started his slow movement again.
"Is anyone there," he whispered into the darkness. "Dean, is that you?"
Something slithered at Sam's feet, colder than the already frigid air. He looked down, but saw nothing but roiling shadow. He stepped forward, patting his pockets with his empty hand, searching for anything to help him. His fingers running over a square shape in the inner pocket of his jacket. Drawing it out he discovers it's a zippo. Flicking it open and lighting it he discovers he can't really see anything else. The shadows seem to become more substantial, both crowding toward and fleeing away, slithering and roiling over one another like huge shadow anacondas. He shuffles forward, shivering. Sam's movements say he's wading through something thick. His shivering intensifies and he crumples in on himself hovering over the tiny flame seeking its warmth.
"Dean. I'm over here," he croaks through chattering teeth.
Dean hears another slithering noise and he keeps advancing. The deeper in he moves, the colder the air seems to be getting. Shuffling through the darkness he shudders. Almost all the noises had stopped minutes ago, and yet he still shuffled on. With each step the temperature dropped almost 10 degrees. Dean pulls his jacket tighter as he moves through the darkness. The thick coils of shadow begin to slither violently. One lashes out and Dean slashes at it with the dagger. As the edge of the blade slides through the shadow, light flashes along the 'cut.' While Dean is dealing with that tentacle, another comes from behind, grabbing him by his ankles, pulling his feet out from under him. His body slams heavily into the floor, the flashlight rolling from his fingers to be swallowed by the night surrounding him.
The shadow tosses him around like a terrier beating a rat. He's slammed into the floor repeatedly. The thumps from his body crashing into the packed wooden floor seem to bounce off the shadows. Dean thrashes out at everything, the knife carving crackling lines in the darkness. With one last push, the shadows throw Dean to the floor violently. He grips the knife, unable to lift it from the floor. The cold washes over him, crackling around the blade as it does so. Dean turns his head to watch the sparks on the knife and he sees a shape huddled on the floor.
"Sammy," he croaks out. Blood seeps from the corner of his ear into his hair. "Is that you, Sammy?"
"Dean," Sam's voice returns, a question hiding in the chattering of his teeth.
"I. I'm here, man."
"Dean?"
"Behind you," Dean says with a gasp, followed by a rattling cough.
The bundle unfolds and turns. Sam's face is lit by the flickering and unsteady light of the zippo, his lips are blue and the tips of his hair and the edges of his clothes are covered with frost.
"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," Sam replied haltingly. Crawling he reached Dean and looked him over. Battered and bruised, Dean poured blood onto the thirsty dirt floor. "You don't look good."
"Really? I feel like I could run a marathon," Dean coughs, blood bubbling on his lips.
"Can you move?"
"Guess I have to if we want to get out of here, Don't I?"
Sam stared at his brother and then he reached a hand out. Dean groaned, but lifted his empty left and and together they pulled each other to standing.
"All I have is my pistol and this lighter. You?"
Dean held up the knife weakly.
"Which way is out," Sam asked. The longer he was close to Dean, the warmer he was getting. He was still shivering uncontrollably but he didn't feel like he was going to die anymore. The shadows began hissing around him, and in the wavering light he could see a shape walking in them. He raised his pistol and shot, the first three bullets going not meeting their target.
"No way out for you two," the shadow hissed.
Sam started muttering the incantation to banish a demon, but the shadow just laughed at him.
"I'm not a weakling demon."
"Then what are you," Dean asked forcefully, still hanging almost limply from Sam's shoulder.
"A God, and not one of those weaklings like you've already encountered."
"So, what are you doing here," Sam asked, slowly getting control of his chattering teeth.
"Feeding on the chaos in little Liora's life. Creating more of it so I can get stronger and spread my influence farther." The shadow paced, walking around the brothers. "You know, if you surrender, I'll keep you as pets. You can be my first priests in this age. Carry my shadows and the chaos into the world."
"You obviously don't know us," Dean growled, cracking his neck and feebly lifting the blade.
"I know I've beaten you within an inch of your life, Dean. You, Sam, have been frozen. Only a bit colder and you become a frozen treat. I know that no matter how far little Liora runs, I'll find her. I also know that you don't know how to stop me. You stumbled upon my lair before you did anything else."
Sam looked at his brother, then back at the shadow. Dean spit out a gob of blood and lurched. Causing both of them to stumble forward.
"You're so weak I could just drain the life from you now as we stand and talk," the shadow taunted, it's voice purring. It stepped forward, the darness coiling around and through it. The weak light from the lighter reflecting off of its eyes, little pinpoints of red in the deeper blackness. Sam shivered and struggled to keep Dean up, the pistol in the hand that was wound around Dean.
Then, Dean dropped to the floor while Sam's hands rose, the lighter falling to the floor. Sam was squeezing off a series of quick shots at the eyes while Dean rolled toward the base, slashing wildly at the shadows. Sam dropped the gun and pulled out a small flask of butane and tossed it to Dean who smashed the tip on the floor, breaking it open. Once it was pouring liquid he threw the container into the shadows where the thing had been standing. Sam pushed the ligher into the puddle of lighter fluid and watched as it lit up a trail in the darkness.
"Actually, we did do research before we got here," Dean answered the burning shadows. "That Priest looked into you well before he called us. He gave us some information. Just enough to find you."
Sam bent and picked up the lighter, closing it. As the shadows burned, he turned to Dean who was laying on the cold dirt floor. "Are you really okay?"
"Shut up," Dean grunted, pulling himself to his feet and staggering away from the flames. "Get out the silver coin and toss it in after I toss in the gold one." He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small glittering golden coin and tossed it into the heart of the blaze. Sam did the same with a small silver coin. The waves of heat that rolled off the fire were so intense they had to turn away from the blaze. As it died down they looked back at the charred area, light pouring in from the open hatchway above, the flashlight flickering on the dirt floor for a moment before going out. Dean stooped with a groan to pick it up as Sam went to inspect the scorched area.
"Do you think that's it," Sam asked, kicking the remains of the butane.
"it's got to be." Dean turned and stomped up the stairs. Sam quickly joined him and when they reached the top, they closed the hatchway. Sam picked up his phone and sighed. "What's your problem, Sam? We won."
"My screen's cracked," Sam grumbled. Dean shook his head and shoved the freezer back over the cellar.
"I think I'm going to see if any of the beers survived and lay down on the couch." Dean staggered through the once beaded doorway into the main floor of the coffee shop, a shiver passing through him. Just before he reached the couch, the front door chimed and Liora walked in, looking nervous.
"Dean. Dean you look like shit."
"Thanks," he grunted in reply, flopping onto the couch and grabbing the last beer bottle. He pulled the cap off easily and took a huge swig.
"Liora, what are you doing back?"
"I forgot to give you a key to the closet that the attic is in, just in case," Liora said, holding up another key.
"I don't think we'll need it," Dean told her.
Liora looked between the two of them and then without a word she walked behind the bar and began fixing a strong cup of coffee.
"Want a coffee," she asked Sam. He nodded wearily and she fixed him one, passing it over the counter to him and he mumbled his thanks. "You think it's safe? Even if it is, could you stay a few days just to make sure?"
"Of course we can stay," Sam replies, clutching the hot cup as if it were the only warm thing in the world.
Dean looks up from his place on the couch, catching the woman's eye, a smirk on his lips, "Tell me, Liora, would we have let you stay inside if it wasn't?"