"The Generation of 1954," Rated R, SPN/Miracles AU
A Supernatural/Miracles Cross-over
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)
Chapters: 2 of 3 plus Epilogue
Dates: Written July-August 2007
Fandom: Supernatural/Miracles cross-over, set very pre-series for both. Alternate Universe.
Rating: Rated Adult for violence, language, brief non-con, and gore
Summary: Did you notice that John and Mary Winchester were both born in 1954? The Yellow-Eyed Demon did.
Author's Notes: Thoughts are in italics while telepathic conversations are in quotes and italics. This will, hopefully, help distinguish between them.
Other notes can be found at the end of the story.
Chapter 2: Taet
The house where they'd taken up temporary residence had three bedrooms. John insisted that Mary and Theresa take the bed, along with Paul, and he slept in a chair near the door, to guard them. Jordan and Beth took another bedroom, and Natraya took the last. That seemed to suit her fine, as she was still skittish of John.
They all dreamed of him. The Yellow-Eyed Man.
He had many tricks up his sleeve, knew exactly what to say, to get the most reaction out of each of them individually. Whatever would manipulate them into playing his game. Before the night was over, only one would be left standing.
"Winner take all," the Yellow-Eyed Man said to himself.
A lesser demon, one of the regular inhabitants of this town, approached him. "Great One, let me test the psychic children. If they can stand against me, surely they are meant to be the leader you are looking for." The demon produced razor-sharp claws from the ends of her fingers.
"All in due time."
"How will you get them to turn against each other? They were getting along pretty well earlier."
The Yellow-Eyed Man smiled maniacally. "I've already turned one of them to my way of thinking. The others will follow suit simply because they don't want to die."
The little demon was doubtful that it would be as easy as the Great One thought. "But what about the little boy? What is he doing here?"
The Yellow-Eyed Man grinned again. "I thought he'd make things interesting. No, he's not a member of my generation of 1954, but... wouldn't it be amusing if I could get his own mother to be the one who kills him?"
"That would be quite fun, but how are you going to do that?"
"The woman's very religious. If I can convince her he's got evil in him, she might just send her precious child to be with the Lord in order to save his soul." The Yellow-Eyed Man thought about how glorious such a development could be. If there was anything he liked more than seeing a beautiful woman bleeding and burning on the ceiling above his head, it was watching a mother kill her own child. "Wouldn't that be delicious? She wouldn't even know that she'd really be sending him into Hell, into my service. I love the irony."
The demon asked, "What if the child wins?"
Upon considering that, the Yellow-Eyed Man laughed boisterously. "Now that would be something to see. If he can manage that, he'll deserve all the spoils."
"Oh, I'd better get out of sight." The demon pointed to an approaching figure. "They're all dreaming about you."
Natraya came toward them. The demon left before she could see her.
The Yellow-Eyed Man smiled warmly at the Thai girl, trying for the moment to be comforting. "Sawatdee," he said with a tip of his head.
Natraya knew she shouldn't feel safer around this man, but she couldn't help it. He was the only one in the town who spoke her language.
*****
"Hello Mary."
She knew that voice. Mary turned to see the Yellow-Eyed Man standing nearby. The others were still asleep around her, and she had a feeling that she was still sleeping too, that this was all a dream. Mary didn't want to hear what he had to say, but she didn't seem to have the ability to wake herself up. She refused to look at him, just glanced around at the sleeping forms of Theresa, Paul, and John.
"Mary, why didn't you tell them everything?"
She kept her eyes on John's face.
"Do you think they'll be afraid of you if they know? Will they look at you the way they looked at Theresa when she said she could control their emotions?"
Mary's eye twitched.
"You can't withhold information from me, Mary. You know that." The Yellow-Eyed Man walked around to her front; Mary simply turned away again. "I know you can manipulate human memory. Make people forget things, make them remember it differently, rearrange, highlight, and signify. This isn't something you do to just yourself, now is it?"
"Stop it," Mary said quietly, finally acknowledging him.
"I bet they'd be pretty afraid of you if they knew you could wipe their memories clean."
"Stop it!" she replied, louder and stronger.
Of course, the Yellow-Eyed Man continued. "But I'll never be afraid of you, Mary. You're beautiful just the way you are." He touched her chin, tried to move her face toward his, but she turned her head forcefully. "Sometimes, people deserve a good mind-cleaning, don't they? Some people have very dirty minds."
Mary winced and moved away to the other side of the room. "Shut up."
"Some things are very hard to wipe from your own mind, aren't they, Mary?" The Yellow-Eyed Man kept his distance for a bit. "Other people, their minds can be quite pliable, almost like rearranging a card file, but your own mind... that's much trickier. You've managed to do it, though, sometimes. Like when you erased the disturbing dreams you've had about these people you met today. The generation of 1954?"
Mary looked up, meeting his eyes for the first time. "What?"
"Oh, but you don't remember. Except that no memory can be completely destroyed. Only imploded. Fragmented." He wiggled his fingers in the air, imitating the scattering memories. "Locked away in the subconscious. Do you remember your dreams, Mary? I can help..." He reached toward her.
"Don't touch me!" Mary yelled, covering her ears and moving away.
"You can't shut me out," the Yellow-Eyed Man laughed. "There's always a piece of me inside you." Grinning, he pursued her across the room. "Remember your dreams of John, grinding people up with a rototiller? And Beth poisoning Jordan with a single touch? She didn't mention that power, did she? But you already know about it in the bowels of your mind. Who could forget Theresa wrapping her hands around Paul's little neck and choking him to death? Remember those frightened little eyes and the begging? 'Mommy, please stop, I can't breathe.' Like music to my ears."
Horrified, Mary winced hard, and moved out the door into the hall. "Stop talking about it. I don't want to remember those dreams."
"Why not, Mary? Because sometimes they come true?" The Yellow-Eyed Man followed her. "It's like playing the lottery. Which dreams will happen and which ones will just stay possibilities? Why don't we wait and see whose number comes up?"
"Can't you just stop?!" Mary snapped. She was on the verge of tears.
The Yellow-Eyed Man had a good laugh at her expense. "Oh, I'm sorry. Sometimes I go too far." He leaned against the wall with a wry grin. "I'm only tough on the ones I really like."
"Somehow, that doesn't comfort me in the least," she replied.
He chuckled. "Cute, Mary. Ya got spunk."
Mary rolled her eyes. "What do you want from me? Why are you doing this to me?"
"Because I want you to win." He dared to move closer. "You're my favorite."
She made a face, not liking the sound of that. "Win what?"
"This is a horserace, Mary. Only one of you gets out alive. If you want to be that person, you have to take out all of the others." The Yellow-Eyed Man ran his finger across his neck, making a slashing sound.
Mary was, again, horrified, and recoiled. "You can't be serious."
"Oh, Mary, you know me better than that."
She just glared in silence for several moments, unsure what to say. "Why me?" Mary finally asked. "Why am I your favorite?"
"Because you're ruthless, Mary. I've seen you in your pursuit of revenge."
She looked down at the floor, embarrassed, unwilling to go down this road of discussion.
He continued. "I've been watching you. I watch all of my chosen ones. Since the day your mother died in that nursery fire, I've kept tabs on what you've been doing. And there were times when my Mary was very busy doing the kind of work I like."
She suddenly brought her head up, eyes seething, mouth hissing. "He deserved everything I did to him. It was justice, not revenge. And I'd do it again if I had the choice."
"There's my girl," the Yellow-Eyed Man cooed with a snicker. "I know what your uncle did to you, Mary, and what you did to repay him. I applaud you for sticking up for yourself."
"I'm not sure that's the best way to put it..."
"Sure it is. That kind of ingenuity is exactly what I want in the person who leads my army. Someone who isn't afraid to hurt people who have done bad things." He leaned on the wall next to her. "And hasn't everyone done something bad in their lifetime, Mary?"
She was still stuck on his first couple of sentences. "Your army?"
The Yellow-Eyed Man patted her shoulder. "It may be too much for you to grasp all at once. Just remember, you're gonna want to get in the game sometime. Once the others realize that only one of you gets out alive, well... I'm sure you'll change your mind about defending yourself. You may even deign to use violent force. Won't that be fun?" Grinning devilishly, he gave Mary a little wave. "We'll talk more later."
She awoke with a startled sound, jerking hard enough to shake the headboard. Mary immediately looked to her right at the figure sitting up on the bed.
It was Paul. In the dim moonlight coming in through the window, Mary could see his frightened, tear-streaked face staring back at her. He whimpered and scurried off the bed.
"Paul?" Mary whispered, not currently wanting to wake anyone else. When he ran out of the room, she followed him, calling to him a little louder.
The noise they made was too soft to wake anyone else in the house. Anyone who was still asleep, that is.
*****
Jordan and Beth had decided to continue what they had started earlier on the kitchen table.
Between kisses, Jordan teased, "How could you wake me up? I was having the nicest dream."
Beth smacked his shoulder. "If you don't stop that, I'll start to think you don't really like me."
They kissed a minute more. "Wow, those pheromones make you really horny, don't they?" he suddenly asked.
Beth hit him harder. "Quit it. You know what makes me horny."
Shortly after, Jordan interrupted them yet again. "Don't you want to know what I was dreaming about?"
"Later."
"I was dreaming..." Kiss, kiss. "...about him."
That stopped her cold. "Him?"
"The Yellow-Eyed Man."
Beth shuddered underneath him. "I did too." She paused. "Dreamed of the Yellow-Eyed Man. But let's not talk about it, okay? The things he suggested... I don't even want to think about it. We're going to find a way out of here in the morning. Until then, we're just not going to - "
"He told you about the contest?" Jordan questioned.
Beth paused for an abnormally long amount of time before answering. "You mean this whole thing about only one of us gets out alive?"
"Yeah. What do you think about that?"
"It's crazy," she said with a shrug. "We've just got to get out of here."
"You don't think it could happen?" Jordan wondered.
"Those people we met tonight seem way too nice to kill anybody."
"But do we really know them?" asked Jordan, opening a new can of worms. "That John seemed kind of violent."
Beth paused again to give it some thought. "Yeah, he did, a little... you think we should leave early and try to hike out of here on our own?"
"No... no. I just thought we should talk about it. You see, the Yellow-Eyed Man has been talking to me for some time. Months, really. And he said - "
"He's actually spoken to you? Not just in dreams?" said Beth with concern.
Jordan, nodding, explained, "I hear his voice while I'm awake. You want to know what he told me?"
"What?"
"That Mary is his favorite out of all of us. And that if I really wanted to win his favor, I'd have to take her out too. He didn't think it'd be easy."
Beth shuddered again, and squirmed under him. "That's really creepy, man. Can we stop talking about this?"
He did not stop. "Mary's much prettier than you. I hope I get to screw her before I strangle her."
Eyes wide, Beth scrambled to turn over and roll off the bed. Jordan's hands closed around her throat before she could scream. They struggled, her choking for air.
"Or while I'm strangling her would be even better." He squeezed harder, and she struck at his shoulders and arms. "You, though, I'm not that interested in you. I'm just killing you because I want to win."
Beth gagged and choked. She put the heel of her palm against his chin and pushed upward as hard as she could. It seemed to hurt, but only made him snicker with amusement at her efforts to escape. Jordan still did not let go. Beth then put her hand flat against his neck.
"I've been planning this all year, ever since he told me I'd be brought here for this competition. I've been practicing. I've gotten very good at killing people, Beth. Formidable men like John, they present a real challenge, but a small, petite thing like you? Piece of..." Jordan trailed off, making a face like he was going to throw up. His hands loosened slightly around her neck. "Did we withhold information, Beth?"
Her hand tightened around the left side of his neck. Jordan couldn't swat it off unless he let go of her throat, but that stopped being a problem as an overwhelming wave of nausea made him just about faint. Next thing he knew, Jordan was on his side on the bed and Beth was on the floor, trying to get up, coughing and gasping for air.
Using every bit of will he had, Jordan sat up slowly, clawing at the bed. He hadn't felt this sick since he'd gotten food poisoning when he was ten. He concentrated for a moment. "Remember I said I was a Mimic, Beth? You didn't tell us about this power to poison people with just a touch. Probably thought it would scare everyone, hm?" Jordan managed to grab her by the hair as she tried to get the strength to run.
"H-h... he... heee... llll... p..." Beth wheezed.
"Trying to poison me only gave me the chance to absorb your ability. You produce the poison at will, but you'll die if you get it anywhere but on your hands. Right?" He lifted one of her hands, showing it to her. "That's what these calluses are about."
Beth smacked and scratched at his face with all her might. They struggled, falling to the floor. Jordan covered her mouth with one hand and kept hold of her hair with the other. Within seconds, her eyelids fluttered and she groaned.
"How's it feel to be poisoned with your own ability?" he asked with a snicker.
All the color drained out of Beth's face. She panted, finally choking out, "Bastard."
Removing his hand from her mouth, Jordan said, "What's that? What did you call me? The winner?"
Beth tried to bring her foot up and kick him, but it just hovered an inch off the floor for a few seconds and dropped back down. All the fight had gone out of her. The sickness in her stomach was making her feel so bad that she thought she might pass out.
"This poisoning thing is fun, but not nearly as enjoyable as what we were doing before. Hey, I guess I can do both at the same time, huh?" With that, Jordan's hands closed around her throat again.
When it was done, Jordan stood over Beth's dead body, panting, feeling exhilarated and aroused. It always made him feel aroused, doing this. The wide, frightened eyes. Pleading. Kicking. Scratching. Fighting. But he always won. Even in the close calls, when they almost got away, Jordan had always won in the end.
Like he would this time.
He'd originally planned to kill Mary last. Jordan wasn't sure he could do that now. He wanted her, wanted her bad.
Of course, he could always just restrain Mary, use her for his pleasure, and kill her later. Maybe the Yellow-Eyed Man would even let him keep Mary as a plaything if he killed the others in entertaining ways. Their illustrious host seemed to appreciate irony.
Perhaps the Yellow-Eyed Man would like seeing the technopath ground up by the blades of a rototiller.
Jordan peered through the dark into the room where Mary was supposed to be sleeping. But she wasn't there. Neither was the kid.
He couldn't wait to find her.
*****
Paul had run blindly into the house across the street. These abandoned houses weren't the least bit safe for any of them, especially a child. Mary called, "Paul!" in a hushed tone and followed him into the house.
She heard a sound like a cabinet closing as she entered. "Paul!" she called a little louder. "It's me, Mary. You don't have to be afraid of me." Mary went into the kitchen.
A shuffling sound came from under the sink. She crouched down beside the cabinet door. "Paul? Are you in there? It's Mary. You don't have to be afraid."
The door opened a crack, and Paul's face peered out from the dark, draped in deep shadow. "I had a bad dream," he said sadly.
Mary sat down by the cabinet. "You want to come out and tell me about it?"
He shook his head.
"You want to tell me about it from in there?"
Paul nodded.
"Okay. What happened in your nightmare?" Mary asked.
"I saw the Yellow-Eyed Man," Paul responded, voice colored by imminent tears. "He told me... he told me..." The little boy started to cry.
"You can tell me, Paul."
Changing his mind, Paul suddenly burst out of the cabinet and crawled into Mary's lap, hugging her neck. "He told me my mommy was going to die, and that I could save her if I did some very bad things. I don't want to hurt anyone! But what if he's right? Is my mommy going to die?"
Stroking his hair, Mary gave his temple a little kiss. "Oh, Paul, of course not. Your mommy is going to be just fine. I promise. The Yellow-Eyed Man is very bad. You must not listen to him. Okay?"
"Okay." Paul cried on her shoulder a little while longer. "It was a really scary dream."
"I know. I had one too. Why don't we go back to bed, hm?" Mary smoothed his hair off his forehead.
"Will you wake my mom up so she can bless the room against monsters?" he asked.
"Okay. I'm sure she won't mind." Mary started to get up, but Paul suddenly clutched her arm with a start. "What's wrong?"
His wary eyes darted back and forth. "There's someone else here."
Mary whispered, "Can you feel them?" She listened. A floorboard creaked. "Hello? Theresa?" As she stood, Mary picked up Paul and made her way cautiously toward the front door. "I've got your son here."
The front door was wide open. Mary had closed it behind her. But there was no one in the living room, and no one answered her.
"It doesn't feel like my mom," Paul advised.
As Mary turned to her right, someone grabbed her from behind. There was a confusing struggle in the dark. Mary put Paul down and yelled, "Run, Paul! Hide!" and then began trying to hurt the man who had accosted her in any way she could. Paul screamed and cried for a few moments before running off into the house. Next thing Mary knew, she was feeling extremely sick and collapsing to the floor with the man's weight on top of her.
Jordan still had some of Beth's poisoning ability inside him. It was fading, but he only needed it long enough to weaken Mary. Once she was down, Jordan started tying her hands behind her back with some rope he'd found in the garage of the other house.
Mary tried to scream, but she didn't have the strength. "What did you do to me?" she asked in a slow, weak voice.
"Beth had the power to poison people. I'm mimicking it." He turned her over on her side and started to tie her ankles together. "You know all about that, right?"
"I knew you were a jerk, Jordan, but this... why?"
"Oh, Mary..." Jordan patted her thigh. "...you had the dream about the Yellow-Eyed Man, just like the rest of us. This is a contest, baby. And I want to win."
"You can't," Mary protested. "You can't just kill people to gain his favor. We don't even know who he is."
"With what he's promising? I'll take my chances. Besides..." Jordan grinned evilly in the dark. "...I kinda like it."
Mary gawked at him. "Killing people?!"
Jordan nodded. "But don't worry, sweetie. I'm not going to kill you. I'm hoping the Yellow-Eyed Man will let me keep you as a prize." He looked into Mary's shocked and horrified eyes as he shoved the gag into her mouth and tied it around her head.
Now that she was under his full control, Jordan took his time turning Mary over and leaning her against the front of the couch in the living room. He ran a hand along the curve of her jaw. "You're a very beautiful girl, Mary. You know that?"
Mary recoiled from his touch.
"You've been rejecting me all night, but you'll feel differently after I've won this competition." Jordan leaned in and kissed her neck. When she flinched away from him, he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back. Mary screamed against the gag. Jordan took his time kissing and licking her throat. "This is just a prelude. Later, we'll do a lot more. I know you won't like it at first, but you'll learn to see things differently."
Just to make sure she knew he called the shots now, Jordan slowly ran his hand over one of Mary's breasts, lingering where he found some response. Mary squeezed her eyes shut.
"We shouldn't do this now. I still need to find that kid. But... we have a little time..." Jordan put his hands on her stomach and started to slide her shirt up.
Mary kicked out violently with her bound feet. She got him in the abdomen. Jordan let out a sudden whoosh of air, grunting, "Oof!" and moved back. Scared this wouldn't be enough to stop him, Mary turned her head to the side and started to cry.
He chuckled deeply. "I like a girl with spunk."
Something fell over in the room above their heads.
After looking up, Jordan grasped Mary's chin and spoke right into her face. "Next time you hurt me, I hurt you. Now, you've got to spend some time in the closet while I take care of Paul."
She shook her head vigorously. "Leave him alone! Don't hurt him!" Mary screamed into the gag.
Although it was muffled, he basically understood what she said. "I'll see if there's some way he can be allowed to live. I'm not sure that he's a player in this anyway. But, he'll be the only one I show any mercy toward. Understand that. You can beg for only one life besides your own."
Jordan dragged her off and put her in the hall closet. The last thing he saw before he closed the door was her frightened eyes.
He headed up the stairs. The little boy was hiding up here somewhere. Jordan remembered Theresa talking about the ability they shared. Empathy. Feeling other people's emotions. He grinned as he had the idea to drain the power off Paul and then use it to feel Mary's arousal as he touched her. Hm, that would be fun. Jordan wanted to find this kid as soon as possible.
He went to the biggest room directly above the living room. If any room was most likely to be the one from which the noise came, it was this one. Jordan stood as still as he could and listened. Quick, frightened breathing came from under the bed. Jordan smiled to himself. He quickly crossed the room, got down on his hands and knees, and plunged his hand under the bed.
Paul gasped and whimpered before scrambling out; he made a break for the door. Being much taller, Jordan easily beat him to the door and snatched Paul up by his arm. The boy began to scream and kick wildly. "Mommy! Mommy! Leggo! Mommy!"
When the kid started stomping on his feet, Jordan lifted him off the floor and held him up by the chest, restraining Paul's arms at his sides. Paul wiggled and struggled, crying in big breathy sobs. But he couldn't get free.
Jordan concentrated on leeching off Paul's abilities. His eyes went wide. He had no idea what some of the energies were that he found inside that child. The things Jordan couldn't identify, he left alone; instead, he drained out a helping of empathy and took a look at the other things Paul could do. "What the heck is going on inside you, kid? Your mom said you could just talk to the dead, that you were a medium, but... you're something much more sinister." He snickered. "Holy crap... are you in this too?"
The fact that Jordan borrowed two abilities from him temporarily drained Paul of his energy. The boy fell bonelessly to the floor and lay there crying pitifully.
"Thanks, kid. This'll come in handy." He started out, but turned back for a parting comment. "Take a nap. You'll feel better." With that, Jordan left the room.
*****
Mary heard the ruckus upstairs through the ceiling. She prayed Jordan wasn't hurting the poor little boy. While he was gone, she'd work on getting free and try to figure out how the rest of them were going to get out of here safely.
During her short time outside, Mary had noticed that there had been people here at some point in the last ten years; one of the houses had been knocked down and the dirt tilled in preparation for something new to be built there. But the modern construction equipment had just been abandoned mid-project. Maybe someone decided to try to make something of this town, and had run into... opposition. The kind of opposition only the Yellow-Eyed Man could provide. The equipment was dirty, with weeds and tall grass grown up around the wheels, but it still couldn't have been that long since it was in use, Mary surmised. Age had been sun-baked into the paint, but not enough for her to think that they couldn't make use of the equipment to get out of this place.
In the field next to the cemetery, she'd seen a tractor with a rototiller, a crane, a bulldozer, a drilling machine... any one of those could be driven away. The bulldozer would probably come in the most handy to knock down trees, just plow right through the forest that was trapping them here. Oh, why hadn't Mary thought of this before! John said he was a technopath. He could control any one of the machines. If only she'd considered that earlier, she wouldn't be stuck in this mess now.
No use chastising herself over things she couldn't control. None of them could have foreseen that Jordan would turn out to be evil. It was unbelievable to think that anyone would actually want to win the Yellow-Eyed Man's sick competition. This whole thing was unbelievable.
But it was really happening. So Mary struggled to get free and kept praying that someone would find her before Jordan came back.
*****
Theresa suddenly sat up in bed, startled awake by vague feelings of fear. She looked around. The rest of the bed was empty. "Paul? Mary?" It was then that all of Paul's fear hit her, even though they weren't even in the same house. "Paul! PAUL!"
John snorted loudly and came awake. "What's goin' on?"
"Paul's afraid!" Theresa cried. She jumped out of bed and started to put on her shoes. "He's terrified!"
"Where is he?" John looked around the room. His voice was already laced with alarm, but once he realized that Mary was gone too, he really sounded worried. "Where'd Mary go?"
Her face stricken with panic, Theresa looked back at John and said, "Something's really wrong."
By the time she woke from her dream conversation with the Yellow-Eyed Man, Natraya was convinced that she was talking to an evil spirit. Some kind of demon. The yellow eyes should have been a dead giveaway...
She gasped awake and found herself looking into the face of the lesser demon who had been talking to the Yellow-Eyed Man when she came upon him in her dream. Natraya squealed, throwing her hands out in front of her. "Haa!" The demon swiped at Natraya with her long fingernails just as she was blown upward by a blast of energy so strong that her body left a dent in the ceiling when it hit. The fingernails came within inches of Natraya's face; they would have skewered her eyes if this blast hadn't saved her. The demon fell hard to the floor.
John and Theresa both jumped and cringed at the noise. "What the hell was that?!" John exclaimed.
Natraya rolled off the opposite side of the bed. "Taet!" she cried.
The demon sighed as she got up, rubbing her side. "Concussive blasts. Very funny, Great One. You could have told me." All of the lesser demon's nails came out with a metallic ching! "Then again, I should have known you'd have some way to defend yourself." She approached Natraya with an evil grin.
John and Theresa reached the open door of Natraya's room just in time to see the Thai girl throw her arms out in front of her, palms facing the demon. The air shimmered before her, waves of almost invisible energy moving rapidly toward the lesser demon and finally slamming into the creature with massive force. The demon made another dent in the wall behind her, not that far from where John and Theresa stood.
Theresa screamed and recoiled against the door, while John yelped, "Holy shit!"
The demon, again, recovered enough to approach Natraya once more. She swiped at the open air with her claws. "I'm an idiot. Why am I staying here? You're just going to blow me into the wall again." She laughed sheepishly. They circled each other. "I'm going to hurt the Great One for this. Rip each of his little hairs out by the root. Then I'll - "
Using just one hand this time, Natraya gestured toward the lesser demon, smiling with satisfaction. The creature went screaming out the window behind her.
Theresa winced and shielded her face instinctively at the shattering glass. John, again, exclaimed, "Holy shit..."
Turning to them, Natraya said, "Taet. Asoon," as if they could understand her explanation.
"What was that?!" Theresa cried, not realizing that Natraya has just answered her question.
"It looked like some kind of monster," commented John.
Theresa covered her eyes with her hands. "This just gets weirder and weirder." She uncovered her face and went to Natraya's side. "Natraya, have you seen Paul?" Then she repeated his name to make sure the girl understood. "Paul?"
"Paul?" Natraya said slowly. The little one. She shook her head. "No," and she put her hands together under her head, palms flat, to indicate that she'd been sleeping before that thing attacked her.
"Oh..." Theresa looked very worried.
"Well... I guess we know what Natraya can do now," said John.
Half a minute later, they were entering Beth and Jordan's room. "Jordan? Beth? We're sorry to barge in, but Paul's gone miss..." Theresa realized there was no one in the messy bed when she flipped on the light. "Oh God, they're gone too."
"I'll check the bathroom," John said, heading for the attached bath.
Theresa walked over to the other side of the room, intending to peer out the window to see if she could spot any of their missing people, when she caught sight of something on the floor.
John heard her scream and came running out of the bathroom. "What is it?"
Beth was lying dead on the floor. Her clouded eyes gazed up at the ceiling like a doll. Clearly, someone had strangled her; her neck was ringed with purple and red bruises. The person who had killed her had also ripped her shirt open to expose her breasts. No one knew exactly why, although they could have guessed all sorts of sick, depraved reasons.
Theresa began to weep. "Where's my baby, where's my baby, oh God in Heaven..."
John, putting an arm around her, tried to reassure Theresa that her son was all right. "If he was dead, you wouldn't be able to feel him anymore, right?"
She nodded against his chest.
Natraya peered over the bed and looked at Beth, horrified. "Jor-dan," she said slowly, angrily.
"Yeah," agreed John. "He's the only one who could have done this."
"He's working for the Yellow-Eyed Man," sobbed Theresa. "Can we please find my son? Please?"
"Gladly. And Mary too." John swallowed down a lump that suddenly came up in his throat. "Let's just find some weapons first."
There wasn't much in the way of weapons to be had, but John managed to find a fireplace poker for Theresa and a board with nails sticking out of it for himself. He took one look at Natraya and chuckled. "You? You don't need a weapon. You've got one in here." John tapped his head.
Raising an eyebrow, Natraya just looked back at him.
He took one of her hands and raised it out in front of her, flicked it up so the palm faced out, and said, "Jordan?" Then he punched his fist into his other hand.
Natraya understood. If she saw Jordan, she should use her concussion blasts on him. She gave John a curt nod. "Mm."
"Good girl." He turned to Theresa. "Can you use your empathy against him?"
Shrugging, she replied, "I've never tried."
"Well, if you see him, try. Give him a helping of shame over what he's done, or something."
That brought on a sudden thought. "Didn't Jordan say he was a Mimic, though? What if we'd only be helping him by just handing over our powers?"
"Huh." Disappointed, John admitted, "You may be right. Okay, you don't use your empathy on him. But Natraya, I still say she should let him have it. She could kill our friend Jordy before he even has a chance to powersuck 'er."
"Makes sense." As they started out the front door, Theresa blinked and said, "Are we really going out there to kill someone?"
John looked at her and put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I know this isn't the kind of thing you're used to. I've been at war, so... I know a little something about it. But yeah, we may have to kill the guy."
With a deep sigh, Theresa stepped out the door.
She used the empathic connection she had with Paul as a homing device. They walked into the house across the street and listened carefully for any sound. Theresa's eyes were closed as she turned slowly to face the hall closet. "Someone's in there," she announced quietly. "I think it's Mary."
Overjoyed, John threw the door open. Mary jumped, startled, at first, but then started to bounce up and down when she saw who it was. "Mary! God, did that bastard tie you up?" John began to untie her.
Still feeling out for Paul, Theresa left John to take care of Mary and bounded up the stairs. "Paul, Paul... I can feel you... where are you?"
Natraya wasn't sure what to do, stay with John or follow Mary. Danger, all around them.
Theresa found her son asleep on the floor of one of the bedrooms, his thumb in his mouth. "Paulie!" She gently scooped him into her arms and carried him like he was a baby.
Slowly, he started to come awake. "Mommy?"
"Yes, honey, I've got you. Are you okay? Did Jordan hurt you?"
"I dunno. He made me real tired."
Theresa wondered what that meant. Did Jordan mimic something that Paul could do? What use would he have for...
"Mommy?"
"Uh huh?" Theresa started out of the room, but stopped. She felt something very weird creeping into the center of the place from where her empathy originated.
"Do you feel that?" the child asked.
Yes, she did feel it. Emotions coming off a bunch of new people. At least twenty of them. But these emotions didn't feel the least bit normal. They were... flat. Monotone. Devoid of self-will.
Dead.
She'd never felt anything like it before.
When Theresa rejoined the others, John had just finished untying Mary. She was babbling about Jordan being evil and John was trying to comfort her, shush her, saying, "We know, Mary, we know," but although Theresa was conscious of all that, she was more focused on those awful, creepy emotions coming from outside. This must be what it feels like to have maggots crawling around in your brain, she thought. Theresa clutched Paul closer to her, peering out the front windows from the bottom of the stairs.
"Mary, it's alright." John hugged her. "We'll get out of here now and just leave Jordan behind. What's important is that - "
"WINCHESTEEEEER!!"
John heard his name called from outside the open front door. He recognized Jordan's voice.
"Get your filthy hands off my prize!"
From his right, John heard Theresa begin to pray. "Hail Mary full of grace the Lord is with thee blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus..." Her voice raised higher and higher in hysteria.
Looking out the line of big front windows, John saw what was causing Theresa so much distress. Jordan stood in the front yard, surrounded by at least twenty people who could be described as nothing but long dead. They were in various states of decay, some missing arms, all stinking of death.
All under Jordan's control.
Mary gasped. "He got them from the cemetery..." she choked.
Hiding Paul's face against her chest, Theresa babbled, "Holy Mary Mother of God pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death amen... they feel only blind devotion to Jordan and they care for nothing but obey, obey, obey!"
"Theresa, get a hold of yourself!" John commanded. He licked his lips, trying to think fast.
"They're going to kill us!" she screeched.
Mary, grabbing John's arm, said, "We can find a back door out of this house and escape to the construction equipment. Did you see it, in that field next to the cemetery? You can control it, can't you? You said you were a technopath."
After a moment of thought, John suddenly grabbed Mary's face and planted an enthusiastic kiss on her lips. "You're a genius, Mary."
She blushed, her cheeks turning hot and red.
The army of zombies started toward the house. Jordan called, "Hey Theresa, aren't you curious to know how I did this? I drained some powers out of your boy. You admitted he was a medium, but you weren't telling us the whole truth, were you? Paul's not just a medium.
"Your boy's a necromancer."
On to Chapter 3: Talons
The Generation of 1954 (c) 2007 Demented Stuff
Supernatural (c) 2005+ Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland, & Warner Brothers/The CW Television
Miracles is (c) 2003 Spyglass Entertainment and Touchstone Television
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)
Chapters: 2 of 3 plus Epilogue
Dates: Written July-August 2007
Fandom: Supernatural/Miracles cross-over, set very pre-series for both. Alternate Universe.
Rating: Rated Adult for violence, language, brief non-con, and gore
Summary: Did you notice that John and Mary Winchester were both born in 1954? The Yellow-Eyed Demon did.
Author's Notes: Thoughts are in italics while telepathic conversations are in quotes and italics. This will, hopefully, help distinguish between them.
Other notes can be found at the end of the story.
Chapter 2: Taet
The house where they'd taken up temporary residence had three bedrooms. John insisted that Mary and Theresa take the bed, along with Paul, and he slept in a chair near the door, to guard them. Jordan and Beth took another bedroom, and Natraya took the last. That seemed to suit her fine, as she was still skittish of John.
They all dreamed of him. The Yellow-Eyed Man.
He had many tricks up his sleeve, knew exactly what to say, to get the most reaction out of each of them individually. Whatever would manipulate them into playing his game. Before the night was over, only one would be left standing.
"Winner take all," the Yellow-Eyed Man said to himself.
A lesser demon, one of the regular inhabitants of this town, approached him. "Great One, let me test the psychic children. If they can stand against me, surely they are meant to be the leader you are looking for." The demon produced razor-sharp claws from the ends of her fingers.
"All in due time."
"How will you get them to turn against each other? They were getting along pretty well earlier."
The Yellow-Eyed Man smiled maniacally. "I've already turned one of them to my way of thinking. The others will follow suit simply because they don't want to die."
The little demon was doubtful that it would be as easy as the Great One thought. "But what about the little boy? What is he doing here?"
The Yellow-Eyed Man grinned again. "I thought he'd make things interesting. No, he's not a member of my generation of 1954, but... wouldn't it be amusing if I could get his own mother to be the one who kills him?"
"That would be quite fun, but how are you going to do that?"
"The woman's very religious. If I can convince her he's got evil in him, she might just send her precious child to be with the Lord in order to save his soul." The Yellow-Eyed Man thought about how glorious such a development could be. If there was anything he liked more than seeing a beautiful woman bleeding and burning on the ceiling above his head, it was watching a mother kill her own child. "Wouldn't that be delicious? She wouldn't even know that she'd really be sending him into Hell, into my service. I love the irony."
The demon asked, "What if the child wins?"
Upon considering that, the Yellow-Eyed Man laughed boisterously. "Now that would be something to see. If he can manage that, he'll deserve all the spoils."
"Oh, I'd better get out of sight." The demon pointed to an approaching figure. "They're all dreaming about you."
Natraya came toward them. The demon left before she could see her.
The Yellow-Eyed Man smiled warmly at the Thai girl, trying for the moment to be comforting. "Sawatdee," he said with a tip of his head.
Natraya knew she shouldn't feel safer around this man, but she couldn't help it. He was the only one in the town who spoke her language.
*****
"Hello Mary."
She knew that voice. Mary turned to see the Yellow-Eyed Man standing nearby. The others were still asleep around her, and she had a feeling that she was still sleeping too, that this was all a dream. Mary didn't want to hear what he had to say, but she didn't seem to have the ability to wake herself up. She refused to look at him, just glanced around at the sleeping forms of Theresa, Paul, and John.
"Mary, why didn't you tell them everything?"
She kept her eyes on John's face.
"Do you think they'll be afraid of you if they know? Will they look at you the way they looked at Theresa when she said she could control their emotions?"
Mary's eye twitched.
"You can't withhold information from me, Mary. You know that." The Yellow-Eyed Man walked around to her front; Mary simply turned away again. "I know you can manipulate human memory. Make people forget things, make them remember it differently, rearrange, highlight, and signify. This isn't something you do to just yourself, now is it?"
"Stop it," Mary said quietly, finally acknowledging him.
"I bet they'd be pretty afraid of you if they knew you could wipe their memories clean."
"Stop it!" she replied, louder and stronger.
Of course, the Yellow-Eyed Man continued. "But I'll never be afraid of you, Mary. You're beautiful just the way you are." He touched her chin, tried to move her face toward his, but she turned her head forcefully. "Sometimes, people deserve a good mind-cleaning, don't they? Some people have very dirty minds."
Mary winced and moved away to the other side of the room. "Shut up."
"Some things are very hard to wipe from your own mind, aren't they, Mary?" The Yellow-Eyed Man kept his distance for a bit. "Other people, their minds can be quite pliable, almost like rearranging a card file, but your own mind... that's much trickier. You've managed to do it, though, sometimes. Like when you erased the disturbing dreams you've had about these people you met today. The generation of 1954?"
Mary looked up, meeting his eyes for the first time. "What?"
"Oh, but you don't remember. Except that no memory can be completely destroyed. Only imploded. Fragmented." He wiggled his fingers in the air, imitating the scattering memories. "Locked away in the subconscious. Do you remember your dreams, Mary? I can help..." He reached toward her.
"Don't touch me!" Mary yelled, covering her ears and moving away.
"You can't shut me out," the Yellow-Eyed Man laughed. "There's always a piece of me inside you." Grinning, he pursued her across the room. "Remember your dreams of John, grinding people up with a rototiller? And Beth poisoning Jordan with a single touch? She didn't mention that power, did she? But you already know about it in the bowels of your mind. Who could forget Theresa wrapping her hands around Paul's little neck and choking him to death? Remember those frightened little eyes and the begging? 'Mommy, please stop, I can't breathe.' Like music to my ears."
Horrified, Mary winced hard, and moved out the door into the hall. "Stop talking about it. I don't want to remember those dreams."
"Why not, Mary? Because sometimes they come true?" The Yellow-Eyed Man followed her. "It's like playing the lottery. Which dreams will happen and which ones will just stay possibilities? Why don't we wait and see whose number comes up?"
"Can't you just stop?!" Mary snapped. She was on the verge of tears.
The Yellow-Eyed Man had a good laugh at her expense. "Oh, I'm sorry. Sometimes I go too far." He leaned against the wall with a wry grin. "I'm only tough on the ones I really like."
"Somehow, that doesn't comfort me in the least," she replied.
He chuckled. "Cute, Mary. Ya got spunk."
Mary rolled her eyes. "What do you want from me? Why are you doing this to me?"
"Because I want you to win." He dared to move closer. "You're my favorite."
She made a face, not liking the sound of that. "Win what?"
"This is a horserace, Mary. Only one of you gets out alive. If you want to be that person, you have to take out all of the others." The Yellow-Eyed Man ran his finger across his neck, making a slashing sound.
Mary was, again, horrified, and recoiled. "You can't be serious."
"Oh, Mary, you know me better than that."
She just glared in silence for several moments, unsure what to say. "Why me?" Mary finally asked. "Why am I your favorite?"
"Because you're ruthless, Mary. I've seen you in your pursuit of revenge."
She looked down at the floor, embarrassed, unwilling to go down this road of discussion.
He continued. "I've been watching you. I watch all of my chosen ones. Since the day your mother died in that nursery fire, I've kept tabs on what you've been doing. And there were times when my Mary was very busy doing the kind of work I like."
She suddenly brought her head up, eyes seething, mouth hissing. "He deserved everything I did to him. It was justice, not revenge. And I'd do it again if I had the choice."
"There's my girl," the Yellow-Eyed Man cooed with a snicker. "I know what your uncle did to you, Mary, and what you did to repay him. I applaud you for sticking up for yourself."
"I'm not sure that's the best way to put it..."
"Sure it is. That kind of ingenuity is exactly what I want in the person who leads my army. Someone who isn't afraid to hurt people who have done bad things." He leaned on the wall next to her. "And hasn't everyone done something bad in their lifetime, Mary?"
She was still stuck on his first couple of sentences. "Your army?"
The Yellow-Eyed Man patted her shoulder. "It may be too much for you to grasp all at once. Just remember, you're gonna want to get in the game sometime. Once the others realize that only one of you gets out alive, well... I'm sure you'll change your mind about defending yourself. You may even deign to use violent force. Won't that be fun?" Grinning devilishly, he gave Mary a little wave. "We'll talk more later."
She awoke with a startled sound, jerking hard enough to shake the headboard. Mary immediately looked to her right at the figure sitting up on the bed.
It was Paul. In the dim moonlight coming in through the window, Mary could see his frightened, tear-streaked face staring back at her. He whimpered and scurried off the bed.
"Paul?" Mary whispered, not currently wanting to wake anyone else. When he ran out of the room, she followed him, calling to him a little louder.
The noise they made was too soft to wake anyone else in the house. Anyone who was still asleep, that is.
*****
Jordan and Beth had decided to continue what they had started earlier on the kitchen table.
Between kisses, Jordan teased, "How could you wake me up? I was having the nicest dream."
Beth smacked his shoulder. "If you don't stop that, I'll start to think you don't really like me."
They kissed a minute more. "Wow, those pheromones make you really horny, don't they?" he suddenly asked.
Beth hit him harder. "Quit it. You know what makes me horny."
Shortly after, Jordan interrupted them yet again. "Don't you want to know what I was dreaming about?"
"Later."
"I was dreaming..." Kiss, kiss. "...about him."
That stopped her cold. "Him?"
"The Yellow-Eyed Man."
Beth shuddered underneath him. "I did too." She paused. "Dreamed of the Yellow-Eyed Man. But let's not talk about it, okay? The things he suggested... I don't even want to think about it. We're going to find a way out of here in the morning. Until then, we're just not going to - "
"He told you about the contest?" Jordan questioned.
Beth paused for an abnormally long amount of time before answering. "You mean this whole thing about only one of us gets out alive?"
"Yeah. What do you think about that?"
"It's crazy," she said with a shrug. "We've just got to get out of here."
"You don't think it could happen?" Jordan wondered.
"Those people we met tonight seem way too nice to kill anybody."
"But do we really know them?" asked Jordan, opening a new can of worms. "That John seemed kind of violent."
Beth paused again to give it some thought. "Yeah, he did, a little... you think we should leave early and try to hike out of here on our own?"
"No... no. I just thought we should talk about it. You see, the Yellow-Eyed Man has been talking to me for some time. Months, really. And he said - "
"He's actually spoken to you? Not just in dreams?" said Beth with concern.
Jordan, nodding, explained, "I hear his voice while I'm awake. You want to know what he told me?"
"What?"
"That Mary is his favorite out of all of us. And that if I really wanted to win his favor, I'd have to take her out too. He didn't think it'd be easy."
Beth shuddered again, and squirmed under him. "That's really creepy, man. Can we stop talking about this?"
He did not stop. "Mary's much prettier than you. I hope I get to screw her before I strangle her."
Eyes wide, Beth scrambled to turn over and roll off the bed. Jordan's hands closed around her throat before she could scream. They struggled, her choking for air.
"Or while I'm strangling her would be even better." He squeezed harder, and she struck at his shoulders and arms. "You, though, I'm not that interested in you. I'm just killing you because I want to win."
Beth gagged and choked. She put the heel of her palm against his chin and pushed upward as hard as she could. It seemed to hurt, but only made him snicker with amusement at her efforts to escape. Jordan still did not let go. Beth then put her hand flat against his neck.
"I've been planning this all year, ever since he told me I'd be brought here for this competition. I've been practicing. I've gotten very good at killing people, Beth. Formidable men like John, they present a real challenge, but a small, petite thing like you? Piece of..." Jordan trailed off, making a face like he was going to throw up. His hands loosened slightly around her neck. "Did we withhold information, Beth?"
Her hand tightened around the left side of his neck. Jordan couldn't swat it off unless he let go of her throat, but that stopped being a problem as an overwhelming wave of nausea made him just about faint. Next thing he knew, Jordan was on his side on the bed and Beth was on the floor, trying to get up, coughing and gasping for air.
Using every bit of will he had, Jordan sat up slowly, clawing at the bed. He hadn't felt this sick since he'd gotten food poisoning when he was ten. He concentrated for a moment. "Remember I said I was a Mimic, Beth? You didn't tell us about this power to poison people with just a touch. Probably thought it would scare everyone, hm?" Jordan managed to grab her by the hair as she tried to get the strength to run.
"H-h... he... heee... llll... p..." Beth wheezed.
"Trying to poison me only gave me the chance to absorb your ability. You produce the poison at will, but you'll die if you get it anywhere but on your hands. Right?" He lifted one of her hands, showing it to her. "That's what these calluses are about."
Beth smacked and scratched at his face with all her might. They struggled, falling to the floor. Jordan covered her mouth with one hand and kept hold of her hair with the other. Within seconds, her eyelids fluttered and she groaned.
"How's it feel to be poisoned with your own ability?" he asked with a snicker.
All the color drained out of Beth's face. She panted, finally choking out, "Bastard."
Removing his hand from her mouth, Jordan said, "What's that? What did you call me? The winner?"
Beth tried to bring her foot up and kick him, but it just hovered an inch off the floor for a few seconds and dropped back down. All the fight had gone out of her. The sickness in her stomach was making her feel so bad that she thought she might pass out.
"This poisoning thing is fun, but not nearly as enjoyable as what we were doing before. Hey, I guess I can do both at the same time, huh?" With that, Jordan's hands closed around her throat again.
When it was done, Jordan stood over Beth's dead body, panting, feeling exhilarated and aroused. It always made him feel aroused, doing this. The wide, frightened eyes. Pleading. Kicking. Scratching. Fighting. But he always won. Even in the close calls, when they almost got away, Jordan had always won in the end.
Like he would this time.
He'd originally planned to kill Mary last. Jordan wasn't sure he could do that now. He wanted her, wanted her bad.
Of course, he could always just restrain Mary, use her for his pleasure, and kill her later. Maybe the Yellow-Eyed Man would even let him keep Mary as a plaything if he killed the others in entertaining ways. Their illustrious host seemed to appreciate irony.
Perhaps the Yellow-Eyed Man would like seeing the technopath ground up by the blades of a rototiller.
Jordan peered through the dark into the room where Mary was supposed to be sleeping. But she wasn't there. Neither was the kid.
He couldn't wait to find her.
*****
Paul had run blindly into the house across the street. These abandoned houses weren't the least bit safe for any of them, especially a child. Mary called, "Paul!" in a hushed tone and followed him into the house.
She heard a sound like a cabinet closing as she entered. "Paul!" she called a little louder. "It's me, Mary. You don't have to be afraid of me." Mary went into the kitchen.
A shuffling sound came from under the sink. She crouched down beside the cabinet door. "Paul? Are you in there? It's Mary. You don't have to be afraid."
The door opened a crack, and Paul's face peered out from the dark, draped in deep shadow. "I had a bad dream," he said sadly.
Mary sat down by the cabinet. "You want to come out and tell me about it?"
He shook his head.
"You want to tell me about it from in there?"
Paul nodded.
"Okay. What happened in your nightmare?" Mary asked.
"I saw the Yellow-Eyed Man," Paul responded, voice colored by imminent tears. "He told me... he told me..." The little boy started to cry.
"You can tell me, Paul."
Changing his mind, Paul suddenly burst out of the cabinet and crawled into Mary's lap, hugging her neck. "He told me my mommy was going to die, and that I could save her if I did some very bad things. I don't want to hurt anyone! But what if he's right? Is my mommy going to die?"
Stroking his hair, Mary gave his temple a little kiss. "Oh, Paul, of course not. Your mommy is going to be just fine. I promise. The Yellow-Eyed Man is very bad. You must not listen to him. Okay?"
"Okay." Paul cried on her shoulder a little while longer. "It was a really scary dream."
"I know. I had one too. Why don't we go back to bed, hm?" Mary smoothed his hair off his forehead.
"Will you wake my mom up so she can bless the room against monsters?" he asked.
"Okay. I'm sure she won't mind." Mary started to get up, but Paul suddenly clutched her arm with a start. "What's wrong?"
His wary eyes darted back and forth. "There's someone else here."
Mary whispered, "Can you feel them?" She listened. A floorboard creaked. "Hello? Theresa?" As she stood, Mary picked up Paul and made her way cautiously toward the front door. "I've got your son here."
The front door was wide open. Mary had closed it behind her. But there was no one in the living room, and no one answered her.
"It doesn't feel like my mom," Paul advised.
As Mary turned to her right, someone grabbed her from behind. There was a confusing struggle in the dark. Mary put Paul down and yelled, "Run, Paul! Hide!" and then began trying to hurt the man who had accosted her in any way she could. Paul screamed and cried for a few moments before running off into the house. Next thing Mary knew, she was feeling extremely sick and collapsing to the floor with the man's weight on top of her.
Jordan still had some of Beth's poisoning ability inside him. It was fading, but he only needed it long enough to weaken Mary. Once she was down, Jordan started tying her hands behind her back with some rope he'd found in the garage of the other house.
Mary tried to scream, but she didn't have the strength. "What did you do to me?" she asked in a slow, weak voice.
"Beth had the power to poison people. I'm mimicking it." He turned her over on her side and started to tie her ankles together. "You know all about that, right?"
"I knew you were a jerk, Jordan, but this... why?"
"Oh, Mary..." Jordan patted her thigh. "...you had the dream about the Yellow-Eyed Man, just like the rest of us. This is a contest, baby. And I want to win."
"You can't," Mary protested. "You can't just kill people to gain his favor. We don't even know who he is."
"With what he's promising? I'll take my chances. Besides..." Jordan grinned evilly in the dark. "...I kinda like it."
Mary gawked at him. "Killing people?!"
Jordan nodded. "But don't worry, sweetie. I'm not going to kill you. I'm hoping the Yellow-Eyed Man will let me keep you as a prize." He looked into Mary's shocked and horrified eyes as he shoved the gag into her mouth and tied it around her head.
Now that she was under his full control, Jordan took his time turning Mary over and leaning her against the front of the couch in the living room. He ran a hand along the curve of her jaw. "You're a very beautiful girl, Mary. You know that?"
Mary recoiled from his touch.
"You've been rejecting me all night, but you'll feel differently after I've won this competition." Jordan leaned in and kissed her neck. When she flinched away from him, he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back. Mary screamed against the gag. Jordan took his time kissing and licking her throat. "This is just a prelude. Later, we'll do a lot more. I know you won't like it at first, but you'll learn to see things differently."
Just to make sure she knew he called the shots now, Jordan slowly ran his hand over one of Mary's breasts, lingering where he found some response. Mary squeezed her eyes shut.
"We shouldn't do this now. I still need to find that kid. But... we have a little time..." Jordan put his hands on her stomach and started to slide her shirt up.
Mary kicked out violently with her bound feet. She got him in the abdomen. Jordan let out a sudden whoosh of air, grunting, "Oof!" and moved back. Scared this wouldn't be enough to stop him, Mary turned her head to the side and started to cry.
He chuckled deeply. "I like a girl with spunk."
Something fell over in the room above their heads.
After looking up, Jordan grasped Mary's chin and spoke right into her face. "Next time you hurt me, I hurt you. Now, you've got to spend some time in the closet while I take care of Paul."
She shook her head vigorously. "Leave him alone! Don't hurt him!" Mary screamed into the gag.
Although it was muffled, he basically understood what she said. "I'll see if there's some way he can be allowed to live. I'm not sure that he's a player in this anyway. But, he'll be the only one I show any mercy toward. Understand that. You can beg for only one life besides your own."
Jordan dragged her off and put her in the hall closet. The last thing he saw before he closed the door was her frightened eyes.
He headed up the stairs. The little boy was hiding up here somewhere. Jordan remembered Theresa talking about the ability they shared. Empathy. Feeling other people's emotions. He grinned as he had the idea to drain the power off Paul and then use it to feel Mary's arousal as he touched her. Hm, that would be fun. Jordan wanted to find this kid as soon as possible.
He went to the biggest room directly above the living room. If any room was most likely to be the one from which the noise came, it was this one. Jordan stood as still as he could and listened. Quick, frightened breathing came from under the bed. Jordan smiled to himself. He quickly crossed the room, got down on his hands and knees, and plunged his hand under the bed.
Paul gasped and whimpered before scrambling out; he made a break for the door. Being much taller, Jordan easily beat him to the door and snatched Paul up by his arm. The boy began to scream and kick wildly. "Mommy! Mommy! Leggo! Mommy!"
When the kid started stomping on his feet, Jordan lifted him off the floor and held him up by the chest, restraining Paul's arms at his sides. Paul wiggled and struggled, crying in big breathy sobs. But he couldn't get free.
Jordan concentrated on leeching off Paul's abilities. His eyes went wide. He had no idea what some of the energies were that he found inside that child. The things Jordan couldn't identify, he left alone; instead, he drained out a helping of empathy and took a look at the other things Paul could do. "What the heck is going on inside you, kid? Your mom said you could just talk to the dead, that you were a medium, but... you're something much more sinister." He snickered. "Holy crap... are you in this too?"
The fact that Jordan borrowed two abilities from him temporarily drained Paul of his energy. The boy fell bonelessly to the floor and lay there crying pitifully.
"Thanks, kid. This'll come in handy." He started out, but turned back for a parting comment. "Take a nap. You'll feel better." With that, Jordan left the room.
*****
Mary heard the ruckus upstairs through the ceiling. She prayed Jordan wasn't hurting the poor little boy. While he was gone, she'd work on getting free and try to figure out how the rest of them were going to get out of here safely.
During her short time outside, Mary had noticed that there had been people here at some point in the last ten years; one of the houses had been knocked down and the dirt tilled in preparation for something new to be built there. But the modern construction equipment had just been abandoned mid-project. Maybe someone decided to try to make something of this town, and had run into... opposition. The kind of opposition only the Yellow-Eyed Man could provide. The equipment was dirty, with weeds and tall grass grown up around the wheels, but it still couldn't have been that long since it was in use, Mary surmised. Age had been sun-baked into the paint, but not enough for her to think that they couldn't make use of the equipment to get out of this place.
In the field next to the cemetery, she'd seen a tractor with a rototiller, a crane, a bulldozer, a drilling machine... any one of those could be driven away. The bulldozer would probably come in the most handy to knock down trees, just plow right through the forest that was trapping them here. Oh, why hadn't Mary thought of this before! John said he was a technopath. He could control any one of the machines. If only she'd considered that earlier, she wouldn't be stuck in this mess now.
No use chastising herself over things she couldn't control. None of them could have foreseen that Jordan would turn out to be evil. It was unbelievable to think that anyone would actually want to win the Yellow-Eyed Man's sick competition. This whole thing was unbelievable.
But it was really happening. So Mary struggled to get free and kept praying that someone would find her before Jordan came back.
*****
Theresa suddenly sat up in bed, startled awake by vague feelings of fear. She looked around. The rest of the bed was empty. "Paul? Mary?" It was then that all of Paul's fear hit her, even though they weren't even in the same house. "Paul! PAUL!"
John snorted loudly and came awake. "What's goin' on?"
"Paul's afraid!" Theresa cried. She jumped out of bed and started to put on her shoes. "He's terrified!"
"Where is he?" John looked around the room. His voice was already laced with alarm, but once he realized that Mary was gone too, he really sounded worried. "Where'd Mary go?"
Her face stricken with panic, Theresa looked back at John and said, "Something's really wrong."
By the time she woke from her dream conversation with the Yellow-Eyed Man, Natraya was convinced that she was talking to an evil spirit. Some kind of demon. The yellow eyes should have been a dead giveaway...
She gasped awake and found herself looking into the face of the lesser demon who had been talking to the Yellow-Eyed Man when she came upon him in her dream. Natraya squealed, throwing her hands out in front of her. "Haa!" The demon swiped at Natraya with her long fingernails just as she was blown upward by a blast of energy so strong that her body left a dent in the ceiling when it hit. The fingernails came within inches of Natraya's face; they would have skewered her eyes if this blast hadn't saved her. The demon fell hard to the floor.
John and Theresa both jumped and cringed at the noise. "What the hell was that?!" John exclaimed.
Natraya rolled off the opposite side of the bed. "Taet!" she cried.
The demon sighed as she got up, rubbing her side. "Concussive blasts. Very funny, Great One. You could have told me." All of the lesser demon's nails came out with a metallic ching! "Then again, I should have known you'd have some way to defend yourself." She approached Natraya with an evil grin.
John and Theresa reached the open door of Natraya's room just in time to see the Thai girl throw her arms out in front of her, palms facing the demon. The air shimmered before her, waves of almost invisible energy moving rapidly toward the lesser demon and finally slamming into the creature with massive force. The demon made another dent in the wall behind her, not that far from where John and Theresa stood.
Theresa screamed and recoiled against the door, while John yelped, "Holy shit!"
The demon, again, recovered enough to approach Natraya once more. She swiped at the open air with her claws. "I'm an idiot. Why am I staying here? You're just going to blow me into the wall again." She laughed sheepishly. They circled each other. "I'm going to hurt the Great One for this. Rip each of his little hairs out by the root. Then I'll - "
Using just one hand this time, Natraya gestured toward the lesser demon, smiling with satisfaction. The creature went screaming out the window behind her.
Theresa winced and shielded her face instinctively at the shattering glass. John, again, exclaimed, "Holy shit..."
Turning to them, Natraya said, "Taet. Asoon," as if they could understand her explanation.
"What was that?!" Theresa cried, not realizing that Natraya has just answered her question.
"It looked like some kind of monster," commented John.
Theresa covered her eyes with her hands. "This just gets weirder and weirder." She uncovered her face and went to Natraya's side. "Natraya, have you seen Paul?" Then she repeated his name to make sure the girl understood. "Paul?"
"Paul?" Natraya said slowly. The little one. She shook her head. "No," and she put her hands together under her head, palms flat, to indicate that she'd been sleeping before that thing attacked her.
"Oh..." Theresa looked very worried.
"Well... I guess we know what Natraya can do now," said John.
Half a minute later, they were entering Beth and Jordan's room. "Jordan? Beth? We're sorry to barge in, but Paul's gone miss..." Theresa realized there was no one in the messy bed when she flipped on the light. "Oh God, they're gone too."
"I'll check the bathroom," John said, heading for the attached bath.
Theresa walked over to the other side of the room, intending to peer out the window to see if she could spot any of their missing people, when she caught sight of something on the floor.
John heard her scream and came running out of the bathroom. "What is it?"
Beth was lying dead on the floor. Her clouded eyes gazed up at the ceiling like a doll. Clearly, someone had strangled her; her neck was ringed with purple and red bruises. The person who had killed her had also ripped her shirt open to expose her breasts. No one knew exactly why, although they could have guessed all sorts of sick, depraved reasons.
Theresa began to weep. "Where's my baby, where's my baby, oh God in Heaven..."
John, putting an arm around her, tried to reassure Theresa that her son was all right. "If he was dead, you wouldn't be able to feel him anymore, right?"
She nodded against his chest.
Natraya peered over the bed and looked at Beth, horrified. "Jor-dan," she said slowly, angrily.
"Yeah," agreed John. "He's the only one who could have done this."
"He's working for the Yellow-Eyed Man," sobbed Theresa. "Can we please find my son? Please?"
"Gladly. And Mary too." John swallowed down a lump that suddenly came up in his throat. "Let's just find some weapons first."
There wasn't much in the way of weapons to be had, but John managed to find a fireplace poker for Theresa and a board with nails sticking out of it for himself. He took one look at Natraya and chuckled. "You? You don't need a weapon. You've got one in here." John tapped his head.
Raising an eyebrow, Natraya just looked back at him.
He took one of her hands and raised it out in front of her, flicked it up so the palm faced out, and said, "Jordan?" Then he punched his fist into his other hand.
Natraya understood. If she saw Jordan, she should use her concussion blasts on him. She gave John a curt nod. "Mm."
"Good girl." He turned to Theresa. "Can you use your empathy against him?"
Shrugging, she replied, "I've never tried."
"Well, if you see him, try. Give him a helping of shame over what he's done, or something."
That brought on a sudden thought. "Didn't Jordan say he was a Mimic, though? What if we'd only be helping him by just handing over our powers?"
"Huh." Disappointed, John admitted, "You may be right. Okay, you don't use your empathy on him. But Natraya, I still say she should let him have it. She could kill our friend Jordy before he even has a chance to powersuck 'er."
"Makes sense." As they started out the front door, Theresa blinked and said, "Are we really going out there to kill someone?"
John looked at her and put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I know this isn't the kind of thing you're used to. I've been at war, so... I know a little something about it. But yeah, we may have to kill the guy."
With a deep sigh, Theresa stepped out the door.
She used the empathic connection she had with Paul as a homing device. They walked into the house across the street and listened carefully for any sound. Theresa's eyes were closed as she turned slowly to face the hall closet. "Someone's in there," she announced quietly. "I think it's Mary."
Overjoyed, John threw the door open. Mary jumped, startled, at first, but then started to bounce up and down when she saw who it was. "Mary! God, did that bastard tie you up?" John began to untie her.
Still feeling out for Paul, Theresa left John to take care of Mary and bounded up the stairs. "Paul, Paul... I can feel you... where are you?"
Natraya wasn't sure what to do, stay with John or follow Mary. Danger, all around them.
Theresa found her son asleep on the floor of one of the bedrooms, his thumb in his mouth. "Paulie!" She gently scooped him into her arms and carried him like he was a baby.
Slowly, he started to come awake. "Mommy?"
"Yes, honey, I've got you. Are you okay? Did Jordan hurt you?"
"I dunno. He made me real tired."
Theresa wondered what that meant. Did Jordan mimic something that Paul could do? What use would he have for...
"Mommy?"
"Uh huh?" Theresa started out of the room, but stopped. She felt something very weird creeping into the center of the place from where her empathy originated.
"Do you feel that?" the child asked.
Yes, she did feel it. Emotions coming off a bunch of new people. At least twenty of them. But these emotions didn't feel the least bit normal. They were... flat. Monotone. Devoid of self-will.
Dead.
She'd never felt anything like it before.
When Theresa rejoined the others, John had just finished untying Mary. She was babbling about Jordan being evil and John was trying to comfort her, shush her, saying, "We know, Mary, we know," but although Theresa was conscious of all that, she was more focused on those awful, creepy emotions coming from outside. This must be what it feels like to have maggots crawling around in your brain, she thought. Theresa clutched Paul closer to her, peering out the front windows from the bottom of the stairs.
"Mary, it's alright." John hugged her. "We'll get out of here now and just leave Jordan behind. What's important is that - "
"WINCHESTEEEEER!!"
John heard his name called from outside the open front door. He recognized Jordan's voice.
"Get your filthy hands off my prize!"
From his right, John heard Theresa begin to pray. "Hail Mary full of grace the Lord is with thee blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus..." Her voice raised higher and higher in hysteria.
Looking out the line of big front windows, John saw what was causing Theresa so much distress. Jordan stood in the front yard, surrounded by at least twenty people who could be described as nothing but long dead. They were in various states of decay, some missing arms, all stinking of death.
All under Jordan's control.
Mary gasped. "He got them from the cemetery..." she choked.
Hiding Paul's face against her chest, Theresa babbled, "Holy Mary Mother of God pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death amen... they feel only blind devotion to Jordan and they care for nothing but obey, obey, obey!"
"Theresa, get a hold of yourself!" John commanded. He licked his lips, trying to think fast.
"They're going to kill us!" she screeched.
Mary, grabbing John's arm, said, "We can find a back door out of this house and escape to the construction equipment. Did you see it, in that field next to the cemetery? You can control it, can't you? You said you were a technopath."
After a moment of thought, John suddenly grabbed Mary's face and planted an enthusiastic kiss on her lips. "You're a genius, Mary."
She blushed, her cheeks turning hot and red.
The army of zombies started toward the house. Jordan called, "Hey Theresa, aren't you curious to know how I did this? I drained some powers out of your boy. You admitted he was a medium, but you weren't telling us the whole truth, were you? Paul's not just a medium.
"Your boy's a necromancer."
On to Chapter 3: Talons
The Generation of 1954 (c) 2007 Demented Stuff
Supernatural (c) 2005+ Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland, & Warner Brothers/The CW Television
Miracles is (c) 2003 Spyglass Entertainment and Touchstone Television