Five Times Azazel's Plan Couldn't Work 5/6
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5. Dies Iræ
Mary Campbell Winchester was not a fool.
She remembered her deal. She knew when it was due. And she knew going into labor on that day could not be a coincidence. At first, though, she thought the demon had triggered her labor to make sure no one was in the house when he came back to get what he wanted. So as soon as she was recovered enough, she did a full inventory of everything in the house, down to the last pair of Dean’s socks.
Nothing was missing. At all.
So she started doing research and running tests. Summer turned to fall, but still there was no sign of what the demon might have taken while they were gone. And she got a sinking feeling that the demon’s target was less of a what and more of a who.
Then she started noticing reports of strange house fires where a parent, usually the mother, was killed in the child’s nursery... and the children were all exactly six months old at the time of the fire.
As long as I’m not interrupted, nobody gets hurt-that’s what the demon had said. He hadn’t said what would happen if he were interrupted. So all these parents had walked into the nursery and interrupted... what? What would a demon want with a six-month-old?
Mary decided it didn’t matter. She needed to stop this. She might not be able to hunt the demon down herself... but if she was right, he would be coming to her on November 2. All she needed was the Colt.
It took her most of September to remember the name of Daniel Elkins. It took her most of October to convince him to send her the gun. In the end, he decided to bring it in person, stay through November 3, and pick it up again after she’d used it. Unfortunately, the boys being the boys, she hadn’t had a chance to put it in the safe before John got home.
At least John waited until after the boys had gone to bed to ask, “Why is there a Colt Paterson 1836 sitting on our bed?”
She sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“Try me.”
“Have you heard about all these nursery fires?”
“Yeah. Authorities are saying they’re caused by faulty wiring or something.”
“They’re wrong. It’s arson.”
He frowned. “How do you know?”
“Look, Dad was... kind of a private investigator on the side. And I used to help him some. I recognize the pattern; I know who’s behind this. I have reason to suspect he’ll come after me and Sammy in a couple of days. But I don’t have the proof to go to the police.”
“So you went out and bought-”
“Borrowed. I didn’t spend any money, and the owner wants it back.”
“Honey, I have a gun.”
“This is really, really complicated, but your gun won’t work. I need to use that one.”
“No, you don’t need to do anything.”
“John-”
He held up a hand. “Hear me out. I’ll humor you about the gun. But if anyone is going to wait up in the nursery to shoot this intruder, it’s going to be me.”
“John, he’s dangerous.”
“I’m a Marine, Mar. It’s my responsibility to protect this family, not yours.”
She struggled for a moment to keep her composure before finally nodding. “Okay. But if you’re going to do that, will you humor me about one other thing?”
John fiddled with the top of the little bag in his pocket as he settled back in the chair he’d hidden in Sammy’s closet on the night of November 2. He didn’t open the bag-Mary had insisted that he leave it tied shut and keep it on him at all times-but he couldn’t help wishing she’d have explained things in more detail. She wouldn’t even tell him why she was afraid or why she was so set on using this particular gun. Granted, a well-placed .28 bullet could be just as deadly as a .45 slug and not have the mess of an exit wound, but she said his revolver wouldn’t work, which made no sense. He’d left the .45 with her anyway. And now here he was, peering through a gap between the door and frame of his infant son’s closet with an antique gun in his hand and who knew what in his pocket, waiting for an intruder who might or might not show up.
The things he did for his wife....
-Wait.
There was a man next to Sammy’s crib.
John didn’t think he’d blinked or nodded off or anything. He didn’t know how the hell this guy could have gotten in without making a sound. But he didn’t have time to freak out over the hows. There was a man next to Sammy’s crib muttering under his breath, and John needed to take him out before anything untoward could happen. He thumbed back the hammer and took aim.
The intruder looked up, and his eyes were sulfur yellow.
John fired.
And the intruder fell, lit up from the inside like... like he was on fire.
Sammy started screaming as John burst out of the closet, and Dean and Mary came running. John picked Sammy up to try to quiet him. Dean gasped in horror at the sight of the body and clung to Mary, but Mary looked... relieved?
“John,” she said quietly, “thank you.”
John shook his head. “Mary, what... his eyes... what....”
“He was a demon.”
“What did he want?”
“I’m not sure. But I wasn’t going to let him hurt my babies-or you.”
He was still staring at her in shock when sirens started up in the distance.
“John,” Mary said urgently. “We have to tell them it was a home invasion, nothing more.”
“But... how the hell did he get in? If there’s no sign of forced entry-”
“I’ll tell them I saw him casing the house. There are ways to break in without visible force-he could have done something to keep the front door from locking temporarily, then undone it tonight and let it lock behind him.”
“Will they believe that?”
“There’s a strange man in our son’s room. Why would they think it was murder?”
He shook his head. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
“All my life. But honey, it’s over now. I’m done. I’m out. We can move on.”
John looked down at Dean, at the body, at Sammy still wailing into his shoulder, and back at Mary. “Can we?”
Next
5. Dies Iræ
Mary Campbell Winchester was not a fool.
She remembered her deal. She knew when it was due. And she knew going into labor on that day could not be a coincidence. At first, though, she thought the demon had triggered her labor to make sure no one was in the house when he came back to get what he wanted. So as soon as she was recovered enough, she did a full inventory of everything in the house, down to the last pair of Dean’s socks.
Nothing was missing. At all.
So she started doing research and running tests. Summer turned to fall, but still there was no sign of what the demon might have taken while they were gone. And she got a sinking feeling that the demon’s target was less of a what and more of a who.
Then she started noticing reports of strange house fires where a parent, usually the mother, was killed in the child’s nursery... and the children were all exactly six months old at the time of the fire.
As long as I’m not interrupted, nobody gets hurt-that’s what the demon had said. He hadn’t said what would happen if he were interrupted. So all these parents had walked into the nursery and interrupted... what? What would a demon want with a six-month-old?
Mary decided it didn’t matter. She needed to stop this. She might not be able to hunt the demon down herself... but if she was right, he would be coming to her on November 2. All she needed was the Colt.
It took her most of September to remember the name of Daniel Elkins. It took her most of October to convince him to send her the gun. In the end, he decided to bring it in person, stay through November 3, and pick it up again after she’d used it. Unfortunately, the boys being the boys, she hadn’t had a chance to put it in the safe before John got home.
At least John waited until after the boys had gone to bed to ask, “Why is there a Colt Paterson 1836 sitting on our bed?”
She sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“Try me.”
“Have you heard about all these nursery fires?”
“Yeah. Authorities are saying they’re caused by faulty wiring or something.”
“They’re wrong. It’s arson.”
He frowned. “How do you know?”
“Look, Dad was... kind of a private investigator on the side. And I used to help him some. I recognize the pattern; I know who’s behind this. I have reason to suspect he’ll come after me and Sammy in a couple of days. But I don’t have the proof to go to the police.”
“So you went out and bought-”
“Borrowed. I didn’t spend any money, and the owner wants it back.”
“Honey, I have a gun.”
“This is really, really complicated, but your gun won’t work. I need to use that one.”
“No, you don’t need to do anything.”
“John-”
He held up a hand. “Hear me out. I’ll humor you about the gun. But if anyone is going to wait up in the nursery to shoot this intruder, it’s going to be me.”
“John, he’s dangerous.”
“I’m a Marine, Mar. It’s my responsibility to protect this family, not yours.”
She struggled for a moment to keep her composure before finally nodding. “Okay. But if you’re going to do that, will you humor me about one other thing?”
John fiddled with the top of the little bag in his pocket as he settled back in the chair he’d hidden in Sammy’s closet on the night of November 2. He didn’t open the bag-Mary had insisted that he leave it tied shut and keep it on him at all times-but he couldn’t help wishing she’d have explained things in more detail. She wouldn’t even tell him why she was afraid or why she was so set on using this particular gun. Granted, a well-placed .28 bullet could be just as deadly as a .45 slug and not have the mess of an exit wound, but she said his revolver wouldn’t work, which made no sense. He’d left the .45 with her anyway. And now here he was, peering through a gap between the door and frame of his infant son’s closet with an antique gun in his hand and who knew what in his pocket, waiting for an intruder who might or might not show up.
The things he did for his wife....
-Wait.
There was a man next to Sammy’s crib.
John didn’t think he’d blinked or nodded off or anything. He didn’t know how the hell this guy could have gotten in without making a sound. But he didn’t have time to freak out over the hows. There was a man next to Sammy’s crib muttering under his breath, and John needed to take him out before anything untoward could happen. He thumbed back the hammer and took aim.
The intruder looked up, and his eyes were sulfur yellow.
John fired.
And the intruder fell, lit up from the inside like... like he was on fire.
Sammy started screaming as John burst out of the closet, and Dean and Mary came running. John picked Sammy up to try to quiet him. Dean gasped in horror at the sight of the body and clung to Mary, but Mary looked... relieved?
“John,” she said quietly, “thank you.”
John shook his head. “Mary, what... his eyes... what....”
“He was a demon.”
“What did he want?”
“I’m not sure. But I wasn’t going to let him hurt my babies-or you.”
He was still staring at her in shock when sirens started up in the distance.
“John,” Mary said urgently. “We have to tell them it was a home invasion, nothing more.”
“But... how the hell did he get in? If there’s no sign of forced entry-”
“I’ll tell them I saw him casing the house. There are ways to break in without visible force-he could have done something to keep the front door from locking temporarily, then undone it tonight and let it lock behind him.”
“Will they believe that?”
“There’s a strange man in our son’s room. Why would they think it was murder?”
He shook his head. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
“All my life. But honey, it’s over now. I’m done. I’m out. We can move on.”
John looked down at Dean, at the body, at Sammy still wailing into his shoulder, and back at Mary. “Can we?”
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