Never Look Back 18/21
Chapter Eighteen
Bring The Children To Me
They circled each other, the demon that had slowly risen to power in the East, and Azazel’s chosen soldier. They glared at each other, one with white, dead eyes, the other with soft green ones. They were what it all came down to, the two competitors that were left, vying for power either by sheer force of will or bad luck
The victor of the war would decide the fate of the world, the state of things in the post-apocalyptic realm that they inhabited. One would rule through fear, the other through means unknown at that moment.
It was a battle to the death, a battle for the throne, for control, for life. The war raged on around them, the shrieks of demons, of psychics, of people who had no business even being there echoing through the low valley.
The hellhound growled, advancing on its victim as sweet lifeblood ran from his nose. The new psychic wiped it away, focusing everything he had on diverting the beast, on avoiding the wicked claws that only he could see, the teeth that glinted in the weak sunlight, the promise of a torturous eternity.
Lilith smiled. “How you gonna kill me, Sammy? You lost your gun. Dean gave away your knife.” She stopped her motion and stood staring at him, one eyebrow quirked in confusion. She turned her head toward the battle in the valley, the throng of survivors that fought to the finish. “Where’s your black-eyed skank?”
o0o0o0o0o0o0o
The day was clouded over, the streets suspiciously silent. Dried grass crunched under high-heeled boots as the demon approached the gate to the cemetery, her knife clutched protectively in one slender hand.
Ruby reached forward and opened the gate, flinching as it squealed on hinges badly in need of a good oiling. She stepped into the graveyard, smirking at what the simple action meant.
“Hallowed my ass,” she muttered, for no other reason than to simply hear a human voice. She was starting to understand why the psychics had joined the groups of demons on their trek to the salvage yard. As much as she hated to admit it, she would have killed for a companion. She supposed it was that little bit of human left in her after years in hellfire.
She shook her head. “Of course it isn’t hallowed. Devil appears every year. Can’t be too holy, now, can it?”
Her voice was lost in the silent expanse. Ruby shuddered. It was creepy, to say the least. Abandoned, dried up, ancient, a breeding ground for the evil that had followed the Winchesters throughout their lives.
Crumbling tombstones surrounded the demon as she picked her way through the graveyard, stumbling every now and again on a stray piece of rock that jutted dangerously up toward the cloudy sky.
She wondered how the boys were doing, if the war was being won. They stood half a chance now, but was half enough?
Ruby shook her head, pulling herself from her thoughts. She had a job to do, a job assigned to her by her least favorite person, but a job nonetheless. And it was the right thing to do, releasing good souls from Hell.
The crypt loomed ahead of her, decrepit, but still in tact. There was no giant Devil’s Trap around the tomb, the evil that visited the cemetery yearly having destroyed it long ago. It was a force that nothing could hold, neither key nor cage, lock nor trap.
She approached the tomb, sliding her knife from its sheath at her side. The rusted metal reeked of sulfur, the smell permeating the air around the tomb, turning it foul and sour. The small slit in the middle of the pentagram that had been etched into the door was devoid of any decay, and she was grateful for that. Less work on her part.
The key slid easily into the lock, clicking securely into place. Ruby turned it, watching as the rust-coated metal whirled around, the tumblers falling back. She pulled her knife from its place and stepped back as the doors began to shake, sending large flakes of thin red metal to the ground.
She took another step back as the old hinges strained against the onslaught of hellspawn and damned souls fighting to get out of the Gate.
The doors slammed open suddenly, spilling a writhing mass of black smoke into the air. Fast on the cloud’s tail was a large group of people, their spirits flickering pale white as they again saw the light of day. Before the demon’s eyes, the ghosts began to glow, their souls moving on to whatever was originally meant for them.
She thought about closing the door. She really did. But there were so many people still pouring out, so many souls left unclaimed, that she couldn’t. Besides, the endgame had arrived, the time had come to fight. Locking the gates of Hell again wouldn’t do any good. The soldiers would get out, one way or another.
The demon turned, sheathing her knife back at her side, and walked from the cemetery. Yeah. They could always lock back up later, once the end had come and a winner had been decided.
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
The dog ran at him, its teeth gnashing in rage at its own inability to finish off its target. It had tasted his blood, his pain, his fear. It had ripped his soul from his body, shredding his hopes of salvation. It wanted to feel the pleasure of doing so again.
Dean wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold the damned thing off. He tossed it away with a wave of his hand, sending it crashing to he ground, but it got right back up and snarled at him again.
He wiped the smear of blood away from his nose, knowing that he should stop what he was doing, but unable to calm the fear that letting the dog within five feet of himself would result in certain death. It jumped, he focused, it flew. That was the way it was going to be, until one of them gave up or the war was won.
Dean chanced a glance back down the hill, to where Sam and Lilith stood, staring at each other.
The hellhound pounced again.
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
“I’m not gonna let you win.”
“Silly Sammy,” the demon sighed. “You don’t have a choice.”
He blinked, startled by what she had said. “I always have a choice.”
“But I have leverage.” She grinned and turned to look out over the valley, to the other hill that crested beyond the small dip in land where the war raged on. “Bring the children to me,” she called, her smile widening, turning sinister as she looked back at Sam. “For my kingdom belongs to such as these.”
He followed where her gaze had lingered, his eyes widening as they landed on the crest of the other hill. Another group of demons had appeared, each one holding a child that he recognized, a child that he had left behind in South Dakota. “No.”
“And the other one,” Lilith demanded.
One of the demons stepped forward, his hands clasped tightly around a woman’s arms. He recognized her as Meg’s latest body. “What are you doing? Leave them out of this.”
Lilith just smiled. “Little Meg’s been a thorn in my side,” she said. “The last of Azazel’s little brats. Say good-bye to your girlfriend, Sammy.” She raised her hand toward the other hill, cackling as it began to glow with death-light.
Sam cried out for her to stop, knowing that everything in her path would be destroyed, the armies and children included. She didn’t heed his command, though, and only stopped when the girl’s mouth flew open and Meg exited in a cloud of black smoke, leaving the body to fall slack to the ground.
The demon slammed her hand back to her side, her fingers balling into a fist. “That wasn’t very fun.” She looked back at Sam. “What do you say we change things up a bit, huh?”
She nodded, apparently a signal for something to happen. Sam watched helplessly as Ben was dragged to the front of the group on the other hill, pulled roughly along until everyone in the valley could see him clearly.
Everyone, including Dean.
The elder Winchester let out a primal scream loud enough to shake the pebbles scattered across the ground and cause Sam’s blood to run cold. He stumbled up from his crouched position on the ground and began to run full-tilt into the fray, intent upon crossing it to reach his son.
He dashed past the two leaders, only to be knocked down by something neither of them could see. He went down hard, all oxygen ripped from his lungs with a harsh grunt before wicked claws began digging their way across his back, leaving long, red gashes in his skin and clothes.
Sam was on Lilith in an instant, shocking her into submission as he slammed her to he ground, his large hands curving around her throat.
“Think of Sarah,” the demon gasped, her stolen voice ragged as Sam applied pressure to her windpipe.
“I think she’d thank me,” he spat, his mind on anything but the pretty girl. He needed to save Dean, to save the kids, to end the struggle. He needed to end the little white-eyed bitch that had caused him so much grief. “Mercy killing, and all.”
Lilith smiled again, a smug expression that didn’t fit Sarah Blake’s face. “You really think you can do it? You really think you’re like me?”
“I’m nothing like you.”
“That’s right. You’d never slaughter to win a war, never wipe powerful psychics off the map. You’re too good. You let them play babysitter while you went off to war.”
He faltered for just a second, a brief moment in time when all he heard were those words and the sound of his brother struggling under the bulk of an invisible hound.
She wriggled out from under him, landing a kick to his chest that sent him sprawling out on his back. “You killed them?” he wheezed.
“Well, what did you think I was gonna do with them? I couldn’t let them stop me.”
“Missouri, and Rufus, and all-”
Lilith nodded. “Yep. You shouldn’t have left them, Sammy. They were safer with you.” She smirked. “Unlike Dean.”
He looked back at his brother, at the blood seeping slowly through the layers of clothing, the look of pure determination and rage on the older man’s face. Sam blinked, shaking his head, unable to clear the image of Dean being ripped apart, his soul torn from his body as blood sprayed crude patterns across the floor and Lilith laughed.
Whatever he could do, whatever Yellow-Eyes had left within him, it had needed a trigger. Watching his brother die had been a damned good one. The memories assaulted his mind, burning his brain as he tried to focus, as he attempted to do something he’d failed at the first time.
He could feel it, pushing at that door in his mind, begging to get out. It was so strong, so raw, so powerful. He risked letting it leak out, just a bit, just enough to do what needed to be done.
Sam opened his eyes, forcing the memories away, and gasped. He could see it. He could see it swimming slowly into focus, a hulking shadow, a mass of terror, sinewy muscle, and rock-hard bone. It was sitting on top of his brother, pushing the air from Dean’s lungs, clawing at his back, jumping off sometimes to provide a false sense of safety before going back to snapping at his ankles.
Sam saw it, and he called it.
He stood up, pushing himself on tired arms, strained arms, arms that just wanted it to be over. It was his turn to smile, his turn to show Lilith that he wasn’t as goody-goody as she thought.
“Here, boy.”
His voice was deeper than it had ever been, more dangerous, commanding. The hound instantly obeyed, stepping away from Dean and trotting up to Sam’s side.
The older brother stopped his futile army-crawl down the hill and turned, propping himself up with one elbow and meeting Sam’s eyes with confusion.
Sam softened his smile, unconsciously reaching down toward the dog and scrubbing a large hand over its head, as if it were a pet. He saw the thanks written in Dean’s gaze as the older man staggered to his feet and pushed onward into the fight, toward his son.
Sammy turned back to Lilith, who appeared not to have noticed that her pet had a new master. The psychic twisted his features until they were as close to sinister as he could make them. He grinned. “Sic ‘er.”
Chapter 19