Fic: The Ballad of Sam and Dean (3/3) Glee/SPN crossover
Fandom: Glee/Supernatural (cracky crossover)
Rating: PG-13 for language, occasional non-explicit violence, homoerotic incestuous subtext, demonic seduction and mild smexxy talk, suspense, and other assorted fucked up shit.
Spoilers: None. Set before Sectionals and sometime during SPN season 1.
Word Count: This part: 3200. Total: around 7500.
Summary: Something is attacking the kids of the McKinley Glee Club, and it's up to the Winchesters to save them.
Author's Note: I'm pretty sure this is the first multipart story I've ever finished. EVER. Yay me!! \o
Previously: Part 1 // Part 2
Sam’s head was killing him.
That was the first thing he noticed when he regained consciousness in the middle of a darkened room. It felt almost as though someone had slammed his head into a locker door. The next thing he noticed was that someone had tied him to a chair. Again. “Hello?” he called, struggling against his bonds. “Someone there?”
The room he was in was tiny and cluttered, which made him suspect his demonic captor had shoved him into a janitor’s closet. There were sounds of movement right outside the door, and though Sam screamed himself hoarse trying to get help, no one came to his aid.
“I have you now, Winchester,” said a voice in his ear.
Sam yelped and jumped a mile as Rachel Berry, her eyes a demonic black, squeezed out from behind him. “How long have you been back there?” he demanded.
“A while,” she shrugged. Her cherry-red lips curved into a smile that made shivers go down Sam’s spine, even if he could barely see it in the dim light. “I’ve got special plans for you, Sam Winchester.”
“You gonna kill me?” Sam said, trying to sound tough and somewhat succeeding due to the hoarseness of his voice.
“No,” she purred. “I’ve got something much more interesting in mind for you.” She giggled, running her long nails against the side of his face. Sam shut his eyes tight, trying and failing to pull away, thanks to the bonds that held him.
But at the moment, he didn’t much care what was happening to him.
He only hoped Dean was all right.
---
Dean’s eyes were killing him. He’d been taking book after book from the shelves, poring over the indices and skimming entire chapters looking for some useful clue on how to defeat the demon holding his brother captive. She’d been powerful, far more than he was used to. He was only glad that the McKinley library had an unusually large collection of books on demons, because his father’s journal had, for once, failed to provide him with the bit of information he needed to beat the demon inside Rachel.
He wished, more than anything, that Sam was with him. That long-haired college boy was far better at research than he could ever hope to be; Dean had always been the one who was more ready to jump into a fight without stopping to think about it first. But if he had any hope of getting Sam back -- oh yeah, and rescuing those song-and-dance kids -- he had to do it right, and he had to do it all by himself. And unfortunately, that meant doing some readin’.
He was just poring through Demon Hunting for Dummies: What to Do When The Forces of Hell Invade Your High School Glee Club when he found the information he’d been looking for, two or three pages of information and spellwork complete with a diagram of a horribly hideous demon. Dean scanned the page once or twice, letting the info sink in, before looking up in horror, a terrible realization sinking in.
“Oh, no.”
---
Sam and Rachel were necking.
Rather, she was sitting astride his lap, licking the hollow below his ear, while he flinched, trying to pull away from her and not altogether succeeding, due to the fact that she had tightly lashed him to a chair.
“Was this -- enh -- the ‘special plans’ you had in mind for me?” he said, shuddering as her fingernails scraped the patch of bare skin at the base of his throat.
“Pretty much,” she purred. “I hear I’m your type, Sam Winchester.”
Sam shook his head as vigorously as the ropes would allow. “You’re not.”
“No?” Rachel grinned at him seductively. “You mean to say you haven’t gotten it on with a demon before me?”
“It’s all lies!” he said unconvincingly. She giggled, pleased with herself.
“What’s the matter? Don’tcha like me? Is it because this meatsuit of mine is still breathing?” she said, looking down at Rachel’s body with distaste.
“Could be because she’s s-sixteen,” Sam said feebly, right as she ground her hips against his. “Oh Jesus Chr- SOMEONE HELP!!!!” he bellowed in the direction of the closet door.
Nothing happened. It could have been the fact that at that moment, a group of students were walking by singing a pop anthem, backed by an unseen acoustic band, and the noise drowned out his cry for help; but no one came rushing to his aid.
Sam gulped, fixed his eyes on the lone lightbulb hanging above them, and tried to think about baseball.
---
The Glee club, minus Rachel, were assembled in the practice room, listening to Dean’s findings while Will stood behind him, arms folded, listening intently.
“This here,” Dean told the kids, pointing to the page of Demon Hunting for Dummies he’d been looking at recently, “is a very dangerous, very powerful demon named Moloch. And I’m pretty certain that he’s the demon inside your friend.”
The kids all nodded, slowly absorbing this information. Quinn broke the silence with a snort of laughter. “He,” she said as everyone looked around at her, scandalized. “Am I the only one who finds it funny that Chuckles has a ‘he’ inside her?”
“Says the chick with the baby in her belly,” said Puck dismissively. Quinn bit her tongue, holding back any further off-color remarks about Rachel’s situation.
“I don’t have time to go over the details of demonic possession right now,” Dean said tersely, “because right now, what we need to focus on is how to save Rachel, and the rest of you.”
“What do you mean?” Artie asked nervously.
“Well, Moloch isn’t just a demon who’s into causing chaos,” Dean said. “What he’s really after is the blood of children. You guys,” he clarified, addressing the four mouthless Glee members. “This whole... silent treatment thing is like a warning sign. See, Moloch’s master plan...” Dean turned the book back around, rereading the relevant passage. “It involves taking twelve children -- that’d be you guys and that shrill operatic meatsock of his -- and using their blood to open a portal into hell. By first striking them dumb, he makes them unable to call for help, so that when he comes in the middle of the night to slit their throats, no one will hear them.”
This realization slowly sunk in for the eleven of them. “We could all die,” Santana said softly.
“And then we’ll really have no chance at sectionals,” Kurt said grimly.
Dean blinked. “Um... yeah...”
Finn reached for a whiteboard marker, scribbling on a tablet they’d given him. What can we do?!?! he wrote in large block letters, turning it around so Dean could read it.
“We’ve got to exorcise the bastard,” Dean said, turning a page again. “This ritual’s a little more complicated than most... it calls for seven people to read this incantation aloud simultaneously.” Dean strode to the chalkboard, writing some long, complicated Latin phrases on it so the kids could read it. “Now, I’m going to need you guys to memorize this,” he said, addressing the seven Glee members who still had full use of their mouths. “Your own lives, and your friend Rachel’s, depend on it.” And Sam’s, he thought to himself.
Brittany just looked at the chalkboard blankly. “That’s, like... not... English?” she said after a minute or two.
Dean paused. “Okay... you don’t have to memorize it. Just learn how to pronounce it in the next couple of hours, all right?” He shouldered his shotgun, preparing to head out the door. “I’ve got a few things I need to get out of the trunk of my car before we can do this thing.”
He turned to go, but paused at something. “All this sound good to you?” Dean asked, turning to Will almost as an afterthought, not really needing his permission to proceed.
Will, who had been standing to the side this whole time, silently processing everything, finally opened his mouth to speak.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but you’re saying Rachel’s possessed by a what?”
---
Later, Tina wheeled Artie down the hall, both of them trying to look nonchalant while their eyes darted around nervously, keeping an eye out for Rachel.
“We can’t let her know we’re onto her,” Artie reminded Tina for the hundredth time in a lowered voice. “Just stick to the plan.”
“I kn-know,” Tina said irritably, poking her head into one of the math rooms. “But y-you’ve got that stuff ready j-just in case, r-right?”
Artie held up a plastic bottle full of holy water. “Ready,” he said, determined.
Just then, Rachel stumbled out of a nearby broom closet, her hair somewhat rumpled, smoothing out her sweater and miniskirt.
“Th-there you are!” Tina said.
Rachel jumped, slamming the closet door shut quickly before either of them could see that Sam was inside. “Who, me?” she said innocently.
“I’m not scared of you!” Artie blurted, overcome with nerves at being face to face with what he knew was actually a demon out for his blood. Tina rolled her eyes at him.
“You’re going to b-be late for Glee,” Tina told Rachel, smiling innocently at her. “W-we’ve got an extra practice today because Mr. Schuester s-says he’s got a whole new set l-list in mind, w-with you featured heavily on lead v-vocal, and we need to p-practice.”
Rachel beamed proudly. “About time he came to his senses,” she cooed with a sweetness that sent shivers down both Tina’s and Artie’s spines. “Here, let me lead the way!”
She tossed her curtain of brunette hair back proudly as she strode ahead of both Tina and Artie, head held high as she went into the Glee room. Tina and Artie exchanged a quiet, triumphant high-five as they followed her.
---
“All right, Mr. Schuester,” Rachel announced as she walked into the Glee room, “rehearsal can now officially begin, now I’m here.”
Will stood in the middle of the room, arms folded, smiling directly at her. “That’s great, Rachel,” he said with his usual teacherly enthusiasm. “Why don’t you just... come here? And I’ll hand you the sheet music.” Rachel took a few steps in his direction. “Closer,” he said, eyes still determinedly not looking anywhere but at her.
Rachel kept walking forward, but stopped abruptly, as though she had run into some kind of invisible force field. “What the--?” She struggled a bit, trying to keep moving forward, but she wasn’t budging. Slowly, she tilted her head upward, only to see that a devil’s trap had been drawn on the Glee room’s ceiling with gold spray paint.
She looked back at Will. “A gold star,” she said, her eyes flipping back to black, her voice still an innocent coo layered with suppressed anger.
“Yeah,” said Dean, stepping out of the shadows. “It’s a metaphor for how we’re sending you straight back to hell where you belong, bitch.”
He screwed the top off Kurt’s Nalgene, drenching her with more holy water, and the demon screamed in agony. “Now,” he said, replacing the top of the water bottle, “where’d you stash my brother?”
“I’ll never tell you,” she said, coughing as she shook the holy water from her face and eyes. “Sam’s right where I want him, and I’m not giving him up.” Scowling, Dean beckoned to Finn and Matt, both of whom rushed up to her and doused her with a giant orange Gatorade pitcher full of holy water, making her shriek so loudly that all of them clamped their hands over their ears.
Rachel’s eyes flipped back to normal momentarily. “Finn,” she said, giving him a pitiful look from her place on the floor. “Finn, please. You wouldn’t let them hurt me, would you? Please, just tell them to let me go.”
Finn’s eyes softened, like he was thinking about doing as she asked, but then he shook his head. He pointed right at the spot where his mouth should have been, eyes narrowing in anger and hatred. This, more than anything else, made Rachel howl with rage, beating her fists ineffectually against the invisible barrier created by the devil’s trap.
“All right, now!” Dean said, stepping back, and the able-mouthed members of the Glee club -- Kurt, Artie, Tina, Quinn, Puck, Santana, and Brittany (who was clutching a sheet of paper in her hands to help remember the incantation) -- all rushed forward.
“Five, six, seven, eight!” Kurt called, beckoning to the piano player, who immediately began to play an upbeat melody. The seven of them formed a circle on the perimeter of the devil’s trap, bobbing their heads in time with the music.
” Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,” they sang chirpily in unison, smiling and swaying from side to side, ”omnis satanica potestas...”
Dean just stared at them for a moment, dumbfounded, before turning to Will, who was closing his eyes and idly conducting them. “What the hell is this?” he hissed at the Spanish teacher.
“We’re a glee club!” Will said merrily before grinning at the kids encouragingly. “This is just how we do things around here!” Dean looked positively ill at the sight and sound of this musical exorcism, but, he reasoned the longer he was forced to watch, as long as they all got the words right the musical aspect shouldn’t have mattered. So he watched, trying to subdue his gag reflex as he listened to the seven of them complete the ritual.
”Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae humiliare digneris,” they sang on, building in intensity as they reached the end of the incantation, “te rogamus, audi nos!” They ended their anti-demon song on a high, sustained note, and with that Rachel threw her head back, belching an enormous cloud of black smoke out her mouth. The cloud hit the ceiling and dissipated, and Rachel collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
“Is she okay?” Finn asked anxiously. Everyone looked at him, shocked to hear him speaking again. It appeared that with Moloch’s disappearance, he, as well as Matt, Mike, and Mercedes, now had the use of their mouths once more.
Dean stooped to check on Rachel’s unconscious form. “She’ll be all right,” he said gruffly. “Of course, now I’ve got no idea where to find my brother.” He kicked angrily at a nearby chair, not thrilled about having to tear the town apart to look for Sam.
But he was saved just then by a gruff “Dean!!!!” emanating from a figure wobbling through the glee room doorway.
Dean turned. “Sam!!!!!!” he said gleefully (no pun intended).
Sam hopped into the Glee room, his arms still lashed to his torso, knees loosely bound together by a length of rope, standing unsteadily before them.
“Sammy!” Dean ran to his brother, practically tackling him with the force of the hug he gave him. “You’re all right!”
“Oof! Yep, the Rachel-demon left the closet door unlocked,” Sam said, trying to get air into his lungs. “Er... do you think you could untie me now?”
“In a minute, Sammy.” Sam sighed and held still while Dean held him still tighter, his face pressed into Sam’s remarkably broad chest.
---
The next day, the Winchesters handed in their resignations as school janitors. On their way out the door, however, they were waylaid by none other than Will Schuester, who grabbed each man by the forearm, steering them back into the Glee classroom, where all twelve kids and a small group of instrumentalists stood waiting for them.
“Um,” said Sam, looking around in confusion, “what the hell is going on?”
“Well,” Finn said, “we never properly thanked you for saving us yesterday.”
“So,” Rachel cooed, back to her normal self once again, “we prepared this special song just for you!”
“Heh, really?” Dean said, exchanging a panicked glance with Sam. “That’s not necess-...”But before the two of them could protest, Finn and Puck forced Sam and Dean into plastic chairs seated in front of the glee club. “Um, okay then.” Finn and Puck rushed back to their places, seemingly almost giddy with excitement.
And then the music started.
“Carry on, my wayward son!” the twelve kids sang brightly in unison, grins spreading across all their faces. “There’ll be peace when you are done! Lay your weary head to rest, don’t you cry no more!”
They danced around while Finn played the drums and Artie played the guitar. The kids wove back and forth, practically skipping around as the intro continued, and Will stood by the sidelines, proudly watching his charges sing their little hearts out. Sam and Dean, on the other hand, could do nothing but stare at the Glee kids, horrified at the spectacle they were being forced to witness.
“Once I rose above the noise and confusion,” Finn crooned, still grinning almost creepily, “Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion...”
“I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high,” Rachel sang back at him, beaming her usual bright smile, eyes back to normal and flooded with warmth as she looked back at him.
The Winchesters just sat there and watched, dumbfounded and slackjawed, as the Glee kids continued to butcher one of their favorite songs by adding a metric ton of unnecessary pep to it. In their minds, this was worse than a living scarecrow, more terrifying than a million flesh-eating bugs, far weirder than a haunted racist truck.
“What the hell is wrong with these people?” Dean said quietly after a moment, his face frozen out of shock and disgust. “All this singing and dancing all the time... it makes me freaking sick, dude!”
“Oh... god,” said Sam, now watching Artie bop around in his wheelchair with wide eyes. “There must be something deeper going on here.”
“We’re in way over our heads here, Sammy,” Dean muttered, fighting the urge to vomit. “The dark forces at work here... they’re too much for us to handle on our own.”
“Should we get Dad to back us up?” Sam asked, as the Glee kids linked hands and swung back and forth across their risers, singing about being adrift on a sea of emotion.
“Nah, I’ve got a better idea,” said Dean. “You with me?” He and Sam shared a long look before Sam nodded, almost imperceptibly.
And with that, the two of them leapt from their chairs and fled the room as fast as they could. They sprinted down the hallway, seemingly in slow-motion, as the sound of the Glee kids’ singing seemed to chase them out of the high school.
“Carry on, my wayward son! There’ll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest...”
“We’re never working a high school case again,” Dean panted as they reached the safety of the Impala, cranking “Carry On Wayward Son” as loudly as he could while his brother pulled open the passenger side door and collapsed inside.
“Just drive, okay?” Sam wheezed, leaning his head back against the headrest in exhaustion as they roared out of the McKinley High parking lot.
And the Winchesters left yet another small, freaky town in their rear-view mirror forever as their 8-track cassette player sang, “Don’t you cry no mooooore!”
Rating: PG-13 for language, occasional non-explicit violence, homoerotic incestuous subtext, demonic seduction and mild smexxy talk, suspense, and other assorted fucked up shit.
Spoilers: None. Set before Sectionals and sometime during SPN season 1.
Word Count: This part: 3200. Total: around 7500.
Summary: Something is attacking the kids of the McKinley Glee Club, and it's up to the Winchesters to save them.
Author's Note: I'm pretty sure this is the first multipart story I've ever finished. EVER. Yay me!! \o
Previously: Part 1 // Part 2
Sam’s head was killing him.
That was the first thing he noticed when he regained consciousness in the middle of a darkened room. It felt almost as though someone had slammed his head into a locker door. The next thing he noticed was that someone had tied him to a chair. Again. “Hello?” he called, struggling against his bonds. “Someone there?”
The room he was in was tiny and cluttered, which made him suspect his demonic captor had shoved him into a janitor’s closet. There were sounds of movement right outside the door, and though Sam screamed himself hoarse trying to get help, no one came to his aid.
“I have you now, Winchester,” said a voice in his ear.
Sam yelped and jumped a mile as Rachel Berry, her eyes a demonic black, squeezed out from behind him. “How long have you been back there?” he demanded.
“A while,” she shrugged. Her cherry-red lips curved into a smile that made shivers go down Sam’s spine, even if he could barely see it in the dim light. “I’ve got special plans for you, Sam Winchester.”
“You gonna kill me?” Sam said, trying to sound tough and somewhat succeeding due to the hoarseness of his voice.
“No,” she purred. “I’ve got something much more interesting in mind for you.” She giggled, running her long nails against the side of his face. Sam shut his eyes tight, trying and failing to pull away, thanks to the bonds that held him.
But at the moment, he didn’t much care what was happening to him.
He only hoped Dean was all right.
---
Dean’s eyes were killing him. He’d been taking book after book from the shelves, poring over the indices and skimming entire chapters looking for some useful clue on how to defeat the demon holding his brother captive. She’d been powerful, far more than he was used to. He was only glad that the McKinley library had an unusually large collection of books on demons, because his father’s journal had, for once, failed to provide him with the bit of information he needed to beat the demon inside Rachel.
He wished, more than anything, that Sam was with him. That long-haired college boy was far better at research than he could ever hope to be; Dean had always been the one who was more ready to jump into a fight without stopping to think about it first. But if he had any hope of getting Sam back -- oh yeah, and rescuing those song-and-dance kids -- he had to do it right, and he had to do it all by himself. And unfortunately, that meant doing some readin’.
He was just poring through Demon Hunting for Dummies: What to Do When The Forces of Hell Invade Your High School Glee Club when he found the information he’d been looking for, two or three pages of information and spellwork complete with a diagram of a horribly hideous demon. Dean scanned the page once or twice, letting the info sink in, before looking up in horror, a terrible realization sinking in.
“Oh, no.”
---
Sam and Rachel were necking.
Rather, she was sitting astride his lap, licking the hollow below his ear, while he flinched, trying to pull away from her and not altogether succeeding, due to the fact that she had tightly lashed him to a chair.
“Was this -- enh -- the ‘special plans’ you had in mind for me?” he said, shuddering as her fingernails scraped the patch of bare skin at the base of his throat.
“Pretty much,” she purred. “I hear I’m your type, Sam Winchester.”
Sam shook his head as vigorously as the ropes would allow. “You’re not.”
“No?” Rachel grinned at him seductively. “You mean to say you haven’t gotten it on with a demon before me?”
“It’s all lies!” he said unconvincingly. She giggled, pleased with herself.
“What’s the matter? Don’tcha like me? Is it because this meatsuit of mine is still breathing?” she said, looking down at Rachel’s body with distaste.
“Could be because she’s s-sixteen,” Sam said feebly, right as she ground her hips against his. “Oh Jesus Chr- SOMEONE HELP!!!!” he bellowed in the direction of the closet door.
Nothing happened. It could have been the fact that at that moment, a group of students were walking by singing a pop anthem, backed by an unseen acoustic band, and the noise drowned out his cry for help; but no one came rushing to his aid.
Sam gulped, fixed his eyes on the lone lightbulb hanging above them, and tried to think about baseball.
---
The Glee club, minus Rachel, were assembled in the practice room, listening to Dean’s findings while Will stood behind him, arms folded, listening intently.
“This here,” Dean told the kids, pointing to the page of Demon Hunting for Dummies he’d been looking at recently, “is a very dangerous, very powerful demon named Moloch. And I’m pretty certain that he’s the demon inside your friend.”
The kids all nodded, slowly absorbing this information. Quinn broke the silence with a snort of laughter. “He,” she said as everyone looked around at her, scandalized. “Am I the only one who finds it funny that Chuckles has a ‘he’ inside her?”
“Says the chick with the baby in her belly,” said Puck dismissively. Quinn bit her tongue, holding back any further off-color remarks about Rachel’s situation.
“I don’t have time to go over the details of demonic possession right now,” Dean said tersely, “because right now, what we need to focus on is how to save Rachel, and the rest of you.”
“What do you mean?” Artie asked nervously.
“Well, Moloch isn’t just a demon who’s into causing chaos,” Dean said. “What he’s really after is the blood of children. You guys,” he clarified, addressing the four mouthless Glee members. “This whole... silent treatment thing is like a warning sign. See, Moloch’s master plan...” Dean turned the book back around, rereading the relevant passage. “It involves taking twelve children -- that’d be you guys and that shrill operatic meatsock of his -- and using their blood to open a portal into hell. By first striking them dumb, he makes them unable to call for help, so that when he comes in the middle of the night to slit their throats, no one will hear them.”
This realization slowly sunk in for the eleven of them. “We could all die,” Santana said softly.
“And then we’ll really have no chance at sectionals,” Kurt said grimly.
Dean blinked. “Um... yeah...”
Finn reached for a whiteboard marker, scribbling on a tablet they’d given him. What can we do?!?! he wrote in large block letters, turning it around so Dean could read it.
“We’ve got to exorcise the bastard,” Dean said, turning a page again. “This ritual’s a little more complicated than most... it calls for seven people to read this incantation aloud simultaneously.” Dean strode to the chalkboard, writing some long, complicated Latin phrases on it so the kids could read it. “Now, I’m going to need you guys to memorize this,” he said, addressing the seven Glee members who still had full use of their mouths. “Your own lives, and your friend Rachel’s, depend on it.” And Sam’s, he thought to himself.
Brittany just looked at the chalkboard blankly. “That’s, like... not... English?” she said after a minute or two.
Dean paused. “Okay... you don’t have to memorize it. Just learn how to pronounce it in the next couple of hours, all right?” He shouldered his shotgun, preparing to head out the door. “I’ve got a few things I need to get out of the trunk of my car before we can do this thing.”
He turned to go, but paused at something. “All this sound good to you?” Dean asked, turning to Will almost as an afterthought, not really needing his permission to proceed.
Will, who had been standing to the side this whole time, silently processing everything, finally opened his mouth to speak.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but you’re saying Rachel’s possessed by a what?”
---
Later, Tina wheeled Artie down the hall, both of them trying to look nonchalant while their eyes darted around nervously, keeping an eye out for Rachel.
“We can’t let her know we’re onto her,” Artie reminded Tina for the hundredth time in a lowered voice. “Just stick to the plan.”
“I kn-know,” Tina said irritably, poking her head into one of the math rooms. “But y-you’ve got that stuff ready j-just in case, r-right?”
Artie held up a plastic bottle full of holy water. “Ready,” he said, determined.
Just then, Rachel stumbled out of a nearby broom closet, her hair somewhat rumpled, smoothing out her sweater and miniskirt.
“Th-there you are!” Tina said.
Rachel jumped, slamming the closet door shut quickly before either of them could see that Sam was inside. “Who, me?” she said innocently.
“I’m not scared of you!” Artie blurted, overcome with nerves at being face to face with what he knew was actually a demon out for his blood. Tina rolled her eyes at him.
“You’re going to b-be late for Glee,” Tina told Rachel, smiling innocently at her. “W-we’ve got an extra practice today because Mr. Schuester s-says he’s got a whole new set l-list in mind, w-with you featured heavily on lead v-vocal, and we need to p-practice.”
Rachel beamed proudly. “About time he came to his senses,” she cooed with a sweetness that sent shivers down both Tina’s and Artie’s spines. “Here, let me lead the way!”
She tossed her curtain of brunette hair back proudly as she strode ahead of both Tina and Artie, head held high as she went into the Glee room. Tina and Artie exchanged a quiet, triumphant high-five as they followed her.
---
“All right, Mr. Schuester,” Rachel announced as she walked into the Glee room, “rehearsal can now officially begin, now I’m here.”
Will stood in the middle of the room, arms folded, smiling directly at her. “That’s great, Rachel,” he said with his usual teacherly enthusiasm. “Why don’t you just... come here? And I’ll hand you the sheet music.” Rachel took a few steps in his direction. “Closer,” he said, eyes still determinedly not looking anywhere but at her.
Rachel kept walking forward, but stopped abruptly, as though she had run into some kind of invisible force field. “What the--?” She struggled a bit, trying to keep moving forward, but she wasn’t budging. Slowly, she tilted her head upward, only to see that a devil’s trap had been drawn on the Glee room’s ceiling with gold spray paint.
She looked back at Will. “A gold star,” she said, her eyes flipping back to black, her voice still an innocent coo layered with suppressed anger.
“Yeah,” said Dean, stepping out of the shadows. “It’s a metaphor for how we’re sending you straight back to hell where you belong, bitch.”
He screwed the top off Kurt’s Nalgene, drenching her with more holy water, and the demon screamed in agony. “Now,” he said, replacing the top of the water bottle, “where’d you stash my brother?”
“I’ll never tell you,” she said, coughing as she shook the holy water from her face and eyes. “Sam’s right where I want him, and I’m not giving him up.” Scowling, Dean beckoned to Finn and Matt, both of whom rushed up to her and doused her with a giant orange Gatorade pitcher full of holy water, making her shriek so loudly that all of them clamped their hands over their ears.
Rachel’s eyes flipped back to normal momentarily. “Finn,” she said, giving him a pitiful look from her place on the floor. “Finn, please. You wouldn’t let them hurt me, would you? Please, just tell them to let me go.”
Finn’s eyes softened, like he was thinking about doing as she asked, but then he shook his head. He pointed right at the spot where his mouth should have been, eyes narrowing in anger and hatred. This, more than anything else, made Rachel howl with rage, beating her fists ineffectually against the invisible barrier created by the devil’s trap.
“All right, now!” Dean said, stepping back, and the able-mouthed members of the Glee club -- Kurt, Artie, Tina, Quinn, Puck, Santana, and Brittany (who was clutching a sheet of paper in her hands to help remember the incantation) -- all rushed forward.
“Five, six, seven, eight!” Kurt called, beckoning to the piano player, who immediately began to play an upbeat melody. The seven of them formed a circle on the perimeter of the devil’s trap, bobbing their heads in time with the music.
” Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,” they sang chirpily in unison, smiling and swaying from side to side, ”omnis satanica potestas...”
Dean just stared at them for a moment, dumbfounded, before turning to Will, who was closing his eyes and idly conducting them. “What the hell is this?” he hissed at the Spanish teacher.
“We’re a glee club!” Will said merrily before grinning at the kids encouragingly. “This is just how we do things around here!” Dean looked positively ill at the sight and sound of this musical exorcism, but, he reasoned the longer he was forced to watch, as long as they all got the words right the musical aspect shouldn’t have mattered. So he watched, trying to subdue his gag reflex as he listened to the seven of them complete the ritual.
”Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae humiliare digneris,” they sang on, building in intensity as they reached the end of the incantation, “te rogamus, audi nos!” They ended their anti-demon song on a high, sustained note, and with that Rachel threw her head back, belching an enormous cloud of black smoke out her mouth. The cloud hit the ceiling and dissipated, and Rachel collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
“Is she okay?” Finn asked anxiously. Everyone looked at him, shocked to hear him speaking again. It appeared that with Moloch’s disappearance, he, as well as Matt, Mike, and Mercedes, now had the use of their mouths once more.
Dean stooped to check on Rachel’s unconscious form. “She’ll be all right,” he said gruffly. “Of course, now I’ve got no idea where to find my brother.” He kicked angrily at a nearby chair, not thrilled about having to tear the town apart to look for Sam.
But he was saved just then by a gruff “Dean!!!!” emanating from a figure wobbling through the glee room doorway.
Dean turned. “Sam!!!!!!” he said gleefully (no pun intended).
Sam hopped into the Glee room, his arms still lashed to his torso, knees loosely bound together by a length of rope, standing unsteadily before them.
“Sammy!” Dean ran to his brother, practically tackling him with the force of the hug he gave him. “You’re all right!”
“Oof! Yep, the Rachel-demon left the closet door unlocked,” Sam said, trying to get air into his lungs. “Er... do you think you could untie me now?”
“In a minute, Sammy.” Sam sighed and held still while Dean held him still tighter, his face pressed into Sam’s remarkably broad chest.
---
The next day, the Winchesters handed in their resignations as school janitors. On their way out the door, however, they were waylaid by none other than Will Schuester, who grabbed each man by the forearm, steering them back into the Glee classroom, where all twelve kids and a small group of instrumentalists stood waiting for them.
“Um,” said Sam, looking around in confusion, “what the hell is going on?”
“Well,” Finn said, “we never properly thanked you for saving us yesterday.”
“So,” Rachel cooed, back to her normal self once again, “we prepared this special song just for you!”
“Heh, really?” Dean said, exchanging a panicked glance with Sam. “That’s not necess-...”But before the two of them could protest, Finn and Puck forced Sam and Dean into plastic chairs seated in front of the glee club. “Um, okay then.” Finn and Puck rushed back to their places, seemingly almost giddy with excitement.
And then the music started.
“Carry on, my wayward son!” the twelve kids sang brightly in unison, grins spreading across all their faces. “There’ll be peace when you are done! Lay your weary head to rest, don’t you cry no more!”
They danced around while Finn played the drums and Artie played the guitar. The kids wove back and forth, practically skipping around as the intro continued, and Will stood by the sidelines, proudly watching his charges sing their little hearts out. Sam and Dean, on the other hand, could do nothing but stare at the Glee kids, horrified at the spectacle they were being forced to witness.
“Once I rose above the noise and confusion,” Finn crooned, still grinning almost creepily, “Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion...”
“I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high,” Rachel sang back at him, beaming her usual bright smile, eyes back to normal and flooded with warmth as she looked back at him.
The Winchesters just sat there and watched, dumbfounded and slackjawed, as the Glee kids continued to butcher one of their favorite songs by adding a metric ton of unnecessary pep to it. In their minds, this was worse than a living scarecrow, more terrifying than a million flesh-eating bugs, far weirder than a haunted racist truck.
“What the hell is wrong with these people?” Dean said quietly after a moment, his face frozen out of shock and disgust. “All this singing and dancing all the time... it makes me freaking sick, dude!”
“Oh... god,” said Sam, now watching Artie bop around in his wheelchair with wide eyes. “There must be something deeper going on here.”
“We’re in way over our heads here, Sammy,” Dean muttered, fighting the urge to vomit. “The dark forces at work here... they’re too much for us to handle on our own.”
“Should we get Dad to back us up?” Sam asked, as the Glee kids linked hands and swung back and forth across their risers, singing about being adrift on a sea of emotion.
“Nah, I’ve got a better idea,” said Dean. “You with me?” He and Sam shared a long look before Sam nodded, almost imperceptibly.
And with that, the two of them leapt from their chairs and fled the room as fast as they could. They sprinted down the hallway, seemingly in slow-motion, as the sound of the Glee kids’ singing seemed to chase them out of the high school.
“Carry on, my wayward son! There’ll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest...”
“We’re never working a high school case again,” Dean panted as they reached the safety of the Impala, cranking “Carry On Wayward Son” as loudly as he could while his brother pulled open the passenger side door and collapsed inside.
“Just drive, okay?” Sam wheezed, leaning his head back against the headrest in exhaustion as they roared out of the McKinley High parking lot.
And the Winchesters left yet another small, freaky town in their rear-view mirror forever as their 8-track cassette player sang, “Don’t you cry no mooooore!”