Chapter six
Chapter Six
Sam peered across the street with intense curiosity. “Who is he?” He asked.
“Why don’t you go find out?” Lilith replied smoothly. “Use your powers.”
Sam bit his bottom lip in concentration. “It’s just … it’s still strange, to me.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, running long fingers through his hair and craning her neck for a quick kiss, “It will come back to you soon enough.”
The bright midday California sun shone down hot against his skin, but Sam didn’t sweat - not anymore. His power flowed evenly inside him, absorbing the heat like a snake, relishing it. He felt the solar flares of the Sun, the molten core of the Earth. The eternal flame of Hell.
He watched the younger man come out of the sandwich shop, paper bag in hand, and walk warily down the street. He filtered out the noise of the humanity all around him and zeroed in his focus on just the man of interest.
He frowned.
“Why can’t I sense him?”
Lilith smiled. For all his ancient power, he sounded a little like a petulant child. “It’s his ability,” she explained. “He is shielded from us.”
Sam made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and shrugged. “Alright, wait here.”
He set off after the man, keeping his distance discreet. He may have more power now than ever before, but he still moved on memory, and his body knew stealth better than most, and more than enough for this hunt.
The man turned down a cluttered alleyway, casting an anxious glace over his shoulder and pulling out his cell phone as he went. Sam waited until the man was a good distance inside, and then stepped into full view, blocking the exit.
Even though his back was turned, the man froze instantly. His raised hand cradled the cell phone to his ear, and without a word he lowered it and snapped it shut. “Why are you following me?” He whispered.
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Turn around,” he said. “What’s your name?”
The younger man reluctantly complied. “Kyle.” There was a defiant edge in his voice, but his fingertips were shaking against the plastic edges of the phone.
He was younger than Sam, twenty maybe. He seemed to be dressed the part for his age group; designer jeans ripped in all the right places, multi-layer surf shop shirts, and blond highlights in his spiky hair. Sam couldn’t get a read on him, but it was the eyes that gave him away - kid was used to being hunted. He had that cagey, twitchy look about him.
Just like Max Miller. Dangerous, whispered the darkness. Crazy, unpredictable. Human scum.
Sam held up his hands, palms out. “Ok, Kyle - I’m Sam. Alright? Just … take it easy.” The kid seemed to relax fractionally, but he kept his distance.
Smart kid.
Kyle shifted his feet back and forth, betraying his nerves. “Who are you? What do you want?” he demanded.
Sam smiled. “Look, there isn’t an easy way to get into this, so you just have to believe me, alright?” Kyle raised his eyebrows, whether in disbelief or annoyance, Sam couldn’t tell. “I need your help.” he said. Kyle stiffened.
“You a psychic?”
Sam blinked. “What?”
“You another psychic? Look, tell your people thanks, but I’m not special, and I don’t want any part of your crazy-ass conspiracy theory!”
Saw switched tactics. “Dude, why the hell would you think I’m a psychic? You talk to psychics all the time? They get most of your paycheck?”
Kyle snorted. “Nah, man, they’ve been hounding me. Keep sayin’ somethin’s coming. Some great evil or something.” He pocketed his cell phone and swiped a hand through the stiff, gelled spikes of his hair. “It’s driving me nuts.”
Sam laughed out loud, drawing a shy smile from the kid. “Are you telling me,” he joked, “that there’s been some great disturbance in the Force?”
Kyle laughed weakly in return. “Crazy, right? This one chick in particular, keeps sayin’ she’s been having visions about me. Visions, can you believe it? Say I’m the ‘Cleric’ or some crap. Supposed to be some kind of super-powered demon killer.” He snorted heavily. “Like I’d ever be special, anyway.”The last phrase was quiet, almost wistful, as though he was talking to himself.
“Cleric, huh? Whatever that means.”
The kid was eyeing him warily now, like he couldn’t understand why he’d admit such things to a total stranger.
Sam shrugged. “It’s alright - I’ve got one of those faces.”
Kyle shrugged a little, and then frowned. “So, if you aren’t a psychic, what did you need my help with?”
Humans, crazy. Threat. Dangerous. Kill us all. Kill him.
The crackling heat of Sam’s power surged forward, lunging at the edges of his control like a pack of snarling wolves lusting for the kill.
Unrolling slowly inside his mind, Sam saw the next few moments with startling clarity. He saw how the power would strike out and encircle the boy. He wouldn’t even sense it coming. He saw it press closer, dark red tendrils of energy dancing across the boy’s skin. He saw the boy flinch, blue eyes widening in disbelief as his skin began to glow.
He felt himself fall as the light from Kyle’s soul flowed up the currents of Sam’s power and killed him.
Sam faltered, his heart pounding in his chest. Special. Cleric. Demon killer.
“Sam, you ok?” Kyle took a worried step towards him, trying to get a read through the tint of Sam’s dark sunglasses. “Sam?”
The vision came to a screeching halt, but the dark power struggled on, seemingly unaware of the sudden danger. Sam focused on the boy, now only steps away.
“Sam?”
In a fluid blur of motion, Sam pulled his knife from his belt, bridged the gap, and ran it straight into the young man’s heart.
Kyle’s eyes flew wide in shock, weak hands coming up to grip Sam’s right arm as he held the blade firmly in place. “Wh … why?” he whispered.
Sam curled his left hand around the back of Kyle’s neck, bracing him as he lowered him gently to the ground. “Because,” he said quietly. “You’re special.”
When his breathing stopped and his soul took flight, it left his body with the faintest ghost of a smile on his lips.
Sam exhaled, gave in to the pressure of the dark, and turned the power loose.
~*~
Dean was down the street from the junkyard at the closest local bar, using every shred of willpower he had left to not get shitfaced drunk.
They had officially tried everything they could think of. Sam was just gone. Dean knew from experience, if Sam wanted to disappear, he could, and there wasn’t gonna be any finding him until he called you and fessed up to where he was. And that was before he was the friggin Devil.
The smell of cigarettes hanging in the air turned his stomach, and he stared dully at his beer. The place was mostly deserted, just a few old timers racking up a game of pool - too early in the afternoon for the younger crowd to be out - not that this town really had a younger crowd anyway.
The barkeep wandered over for the third time, giving his untouched beer an appraising glance. “Feelin’ alright, Dean?” he asked, waving a hand meaningfully towards the beverage.
Dean studied the counter like he was going to find all the answers there, written somewhere in the swirling knots of the oak boards. “Yeah Jake, m’fine, thanks.” He’d been here enough times with Bobby that the man knew his name, but even if he was drunk, there was no way he’d launch into a round of ‘My Life Sucks’ with a stranger.
“Suit yourself,” Jake said. He left Dean alone, crossing over to the small mounted television and turning on the afternoon news. Dean settled easily back into the fog of his thoughts, trying to think of something, anything they may have missed. Maybe there were new signs, signs that only cropped up when Sam was around. Maybe somewhere water was turning to blood, or locusts were swarming, or -
“Hey Jake, turn it up, will ya?”
Startled from his reverie, Dean turned to see one of the old timers staring intently at the television. Curiosity got the better of him, and he glanced down the bar to see what was up.
“An earthquake registering 5.4 on the Richter scale rocked the hills of Chino, California today at 11:42 A.M.”
The newscaster’s voice was professionally bored even as footage of the wreckage began to roll across the screen.
“It isn’t certain yet if there were any lives lost, as rescuers are still digging through the rubble. Damage is minimal considering the strength of the quake, since most of the buildings near the epicenter are new and were built to withstand tectonic shifts. However, the footage released from a local bank near the epicenter is still quite the sight to see. ”
Video from an outdoor security camera began to roll. For a moment, everything was calm, but suddenly the camera began to shake and vibrate. It was fuzzy, but Dean could make out people in the street starting to run as cars came to a halt and windows and pavement began to shatter.
“The shock of the quake reached well into nearby Los Angeles, causing several theme parks to shut down.”
Dean pushed back from the bar, took one final sip of his beer, and stood to leave. An earthquake could mean something, after all, and he’d wasted enough time for one day. Time to hit the road.
He cast a last glance towards the grimy T.V. screen, and froze. In the middle of the chaos, walking calmly down the street, there was one man who stood out from the rest. The camera jumped violently, the man was far away, and the film was grainy, but Dean knew.
It was Sam.
If Dean ran any red lights or stop signs on his way back to Bobby’s place, he didn’t notice.
~*~
Sam should have known right away that setting off an earthquake would be a sure way to draw demonic attention.
Less than a week outside of California, they were approached for a meeting.
He dimly remembered that there would be other factions; intellectually he knew that many of them would resist the idea of a human rising to power. Many would seek him out; many would oppose him openly. This group would be the first. They had requested to meet at midnight in an open, neutral area.
Sam had rolled his eyes.
Now that he was there, looking at them and hearing what they had to say, he was just as bored as he thought he’d be.
One demon stepped forward. African, Sam recognized. Old power, tribal. The demon was hugely muscled, and its arms were crossed tightly over its chest in a defensive posture that meant it had some kind of demand to make. Sam raised his eyebrows in interest.
Maybe this would be fun.
“Something you’d like to say to me?” He asked, his voice pitched low.
“We want proof. You Azazel’s chosen boy, brought to lead us, yah? Give us a sign. Show us a demonstration of ya powah."
Sam smiled.
The earth was rent in two as the searing fires of Hell arose, writhing light blotting out the silver canopy of stars. The demons in the clearing cowered in fear, shielding their faces from nature’s fury. The ground began to blaze, and flames surrounded them all, forming a solid circle to pen them in.
As they knelt down at his feet, Sam locked eyes with the one who had made the request. “I don’t think I have anything to prove here,” he said pleasantly. The demon hissed and placed his hands on the ground in a gesture of submission.
“Mastah,” he breathed. He bowed his head low to the crackling ground, making as though to kiss the earth at Sam’s feet.
Sam nodded absently. Across from him, Lilith was dancing in the wall of flames, burning with passion and desire, the feel of his power riding through her in waves as she laughed in uncontrolled defiance to the elements. Suddenly, he had other places he wanted to be.
He leaned down and cupped the prostrate demon’s chin in his hand, titling it upwards until he could see the fear in its black, soulless eyes. “I don’t have time for you right now,” he said. “In fact, I don’t have time for you … at all.”
Sam thought of things and they just happened.
Stepping over the now rotting corpse of the demon who’d dared to question him, Sam took Lilith’s hand and led her through the flames.
He left the rest of them to burn.
~*~
Only one person had died in the quake. He’d been found buried under the rubble, and his body was so badly mangled and bruised from the impact of the debris that the coroner had almost missed the knife wound.
“Poor kid, huh? If it weren’t for the quake we might have been able to find out who killed him.” Dr. Wellbourne stepped back from the body and removed her latex examination gloves with a sad air.
Dean had stopped breathing the instant he saw the knife wound. And yeah, he saw it right away. He’d know Sam’s handiwork anywhere.
When Dean just continued to stare Bobby stepped up instead, years of practiced acting skills swinging into action. “Mind if I see the murder weapon?”
She shrugged, gesturing to a plastic bag on the evidence counter. “Sure. Go ahead.”
Bobby picked up the bag as Dr. Wellbourne slid Kyle Gray’s body back into the steel rack. Dean didn’t look up, but he could almost sense the subtle tightening of the skin around the corners of Bobby’s eyes.
Dean cleared his throat, focused on cutting all emotion from his voice. “So what, no leads? Didn’t anyone know who this kid was?”
“Well, so far all we’ve got is that he complained to a few of his friends about some lady that’d been following him.” She said with a wry grin. “Said she was a psychic, you believe it?” She dropped the last bit of information conspiratorially, leaning forward a little to look Dean in the eyes.
Bobby moved between them, blocking Dean from her open stare. “Got an address?”
She shook her head. “No, none of his friends even knew her name. Could be anyone.”
“Well, thank you for your time, ma’am.”
While Bobby rounded off goodbyes with the Doctor, Dean swiped the plastic evidence bag and headed for the door.
Time to go.
~*~
Checking the hospital records in Chino was next to pointless. Whoever this psychic was, she wasn’t injured. If she was dead, no one had found her. Dean ground his knuckles into his eyes, trying to ward off both the frustration and exhaustion at the same time.
“We knew this’d be a long shot, Dean.” Bobby said gruffly as they left the Pomona Valley Medical Center. “Sam’s been long gone from here, prob’ly lit outta town second the quake hit.”
“There has to be some trail, somethin’, dammit!” Dean snapped. Bobby stared cautiously at him, like he was afraid Dean might swing on him again. Feeling a little deflated, Dean sighed. “Sorry. It’s just … Sam …”
“I know, kid. I don’t wanna believe it either.” Bobby reached out awkwardly for Dean’s shoulder, but thought the better of it and plunged his hands deep into his jean pockets instead.
“Sam’s knife, Bobby.” Dean whispered. Bobby studied the ground at his feet with interest. “I gotta know why, man.”
“There’s one more place we oughta look, just in case.” Bobby offered. He immediately wished he hadn’t; the burning hope in Dean’s eyes hurt.
~*~
She didn’t even have a name. They just found her cowering in a corner after the quake. Figured it was related. She was their only new admission. They said she hadn’t spoken a word. She was on sedatives, but Dean could smell the sharp scent of fear on her the second he walked into the room.
Padded white walls and straightjackets had never been his favorite things. When the door closed behind him, leaving them alone, he suppressed a shiver. “Hey,” he whispered, walking to the edge of the bed where she sat, arms bound and eyes wide. “It’s ok, I’m not gonna hurt you.” He spread his hands out, palms forward. “I just need to know something.”
She was trembling, but she held his gaze, and he took it as a sign to continue. “Did you know Kyle Gray?” He asked. A shudder shook her entire frame, and her mouth worked open and shut slowly, but she couldn’t seem to form any words.
Intelligence rested behind her drug-damped eyes, and she bit back a frustrated moan. Suddenly she began to struggle, pulling hard against the jacket as tears began to form and roll down her pale cheeks.
“Hey, hey, easy,” Dean reassured her as best he could, stepping closer in an attempt to lend her at least a small amount of comfort. He brought his hand up to brush her light brown hair back from her eyes. Her whole face brightened, and she began to nod vigorously.
“You want … you want me to touch you?” He whispered. Another nod. “Uh … ok …” This was beyond weird, but she wasn’t going anywhere, and Dean figured he was more than capable of defending himself against a pale, frail sedated woman. She nodded frantically again, gesturing with the point of her chin to his hands, each in turn. “Like this?” He raised the tips of his fingers to hesitantly hover over her cheeks. The pleading request in her eyes was more than clear.
“Here goes nothing, I guess.” He offered his best trust me, honest smile, and he was rewarded with a shaky smile in return. She closed her eyes, just taking deep breaths.
Dean took a deep breath of his own, rested his palms on her tearstained cheeks, leaned his forehead gently against hers, and took his very own front row seat to the end of the world.
~*~
By the time Dean made it back to the Impala, Bobby was madder than hell and Dean had already thrown up twice in the loony bin’s lobby bathroom. Bobby practically grabbed him by the collar and threw him into the driver’s seat. “Boy, I oughta tan your hide. What. The hell. Took you s’damn long?”
Dean inserted the key, running on autopilot. Now that he was back safe inside his baby, he didn’t remember how he even got there. He stared out through the windshield, wishing he could erase the images playing over and over in his mind. “Dean Winchester, you look at me when I’m talkin’ to you, dammit!”
“She was a psychic, alright. She … showed me things.”
Bobby’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Things? What kinda things?”
That kid had been the one. The one who could have stopped Samael. And Sam killed him. He knew it was true, because he saw it. He saw Kyle’s blood run red on his brother’s hands. He saw what would happen to all of them if he failed. When Dad told me that I might have to kill you, it was only if I couldn’t save you. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m gonna save you.
Dean’s jaw twitched and his grip firmed on the steering wheel. “Doesn’t matter, they aren’t happening.”
Bobby kept staring as Dean pulled the Impala out of the parking lot and into the Chino streets. It was a long time before he responded.
“Well, if you’re sure.”
~*~
Samael and his bride stalked the night, moving swiftly from town to town, city to city. Everywhere they stopped, they were joined; met by demons, by spirits, by elemental creatures of earth and flame, by humans who had turned their backs on their own kind to be a part of the destruction of their tortured world.
Everywhere they went, the creatures and humans alike bowed before him, offering their souls to his service. Some offered freely, some had been sold to him years before. Everywhere they went Lilith held the Book, the Book of the names of the damned, the lists of contracts signed in their blood. Every time he stood before them, he felt their fear and anguish.
And it empowered him.
"The time for this world has come," he growled, his voice guttural and deep, his muscles trembling, heady with the power. "All of you have come to me for one reason." He looked across the crowd, at the trembling masses. Some were possessed of demons, and they exulted in his presence. Some cowered in fear. Some were innocents, brought by the others for endless amusement, sacrifices to be made for the Prince of the powers of the air, for him.
He scanned them all, flexing his abilities. He could see their souls, feel their every sin. Lust, hatred, murder. He could read their every thought. Anger, pride - every sin committed grew his strength. He raised his right arm high to still their shuddering adoration.
"Victory!"
Miles away, the people of a small Midwestern town trembled at the sudden chill in the air, snuggled further into their blankets, and tried desperately to pretend that there was no reason to be afraid.
Ruby watched from her vantage point high in the hills as Sam held court. He was gearing up for something big, that much was obvious. She could see the dark tendrils of his power winding through the camp, gathering energy from the hoard. Lilith stood at his side, that damned book clutched into her pale spindly hands. Ruby snorted in disgust. If Sam knew his brother was still in that book, he’d rip the bitch’s heart out through her throat.
If there was any Sam left in there to care.
Chapter seven