Crusaders 3 5/7
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Chapter 4
Cry Havoc
After breakfast, Ash asked Sam to come out to the car with him to help bring in his computer. Puzzled, Sam agreed. Once they were out the door, though, Ash rounded on him. “What the blazes, man?!”
Sam sighed. “I’m sorry, dude. This all started Saturday; it’s not like I’ve been hiding stuff from you. And Gabriel said you knew about hunting, so... I... thought this kind of thing would be pretty normal for you.”
“Normal?! In what universe is having your ancestors grabbed out of the past considered normal?! Not to mention the archangel godfather thing-”
“Ash, I swear, I didn’t know until two days ago. Before that, he was just Crazy Uncle Gabe.”
“Do you have any idea of the number of hunters who would hunt you down for considering supernatural creatures members of the family?”
Sam blinked. “But... they’re angels.”
“Most hunters don’t think angels exist.”
“Wu-well, what do we do? It’s not like you just disown your godfather just because you find out he’s God’s Messenger.”
Ash rubbed his forehead. “I dunno. I dunno. But listen, amigo, you gotta be more careful who you trust. And by that, I mean hunters, not... anyway. You’re lucky I get it. Jo and Ellen will, too, and we’ll keep it under our hats. Who else have you told?”
“Bobby Singer. And I can’t remember if Dad’s talked to Pastor Jim-Jim Murphy, he’s a Lutheran pastor-”
“Up in Blue Earth. Yeah, we know him, and Bobby, too. They’re safe enough. I can think of maybe two other hunters who would be just as trustworthy, though. If Jim or Bobby vouches for someone, you’re probably okay, but don’t tell anybody else if you don’t have to. ¿Comprende?”
Sam sighed again and nodded. “Sí, comprendo.”
“Bueno. Here, I can get my rig if you can get the doors.”
Sam followed him to his truck and held the door open as he retrieved a wild-looking homemade laptop from the back seat. Then he got the front door for Ash and followed him inside just as Samuel stumbled toward the downstairs powder room with a sleepy “G’m’rrow” and a bemused passing glance at both Ash and his machine.
“You can go back to bed if you need,” Sam told him.
Samuel just nodded and disappeared into the powder room.
Mom and Jess had just finished clearing the breakfast table when Sam and Ash got back to the kitchen. To Old Dean’s very great confusion and Dean’s nod of engineering approval, Ash set up his rig while explaining some of the features of the tracking program he’d thrown together.
“Didn’t have time to plug in any criteria, though,” he added as he sat down. “What kinds of omens we lookin’ at?”
Mom sat down beside him and rattled off some omens that had kicked up on Saturday, probably around the time Chronos had stumbled across Meg at Stull Cemetery. Cas confirmed those and added some other information about where they knew for sure Meg had been that weekend. Ash nodded, typed in the data as they talked, and ran a search to confirm what they already knew, placing Meg in Chicago between the first time she’d attacked Samuel and the time she showed up at the convent. Those data points in place, he expanded the search to cover both omens and potentially related disappearances or deaths in the period since the sighting in Ilchester; that search turned up a neo-Nazi meth head in Portland who’d had his throat slashed, along with more anomalies around Stull that had died down a couple of hours earlier. [1]
“What’s the significance of the murder?” Dad asked.
“Blood phone,” Gabriel replied. “Demons use a chalice full of human blood to communicate over long distances.”
Everyone but Mom, Ash, and Cas shuddered at that. And Sam couldn’t help wondering just what Mom had seen growing up that had given her such nerves of steel when it came to this kind of thing.
“All right,” Ash announced then. “I’ll set this to track in real time. She’s got all day, and if she’s smart, she’ll take all day, probably jump all over the map. Be a deuce of a job to try to catch up with her.”
Dean shook his head. “No, we’re not playin’ catch-up. We just need to keep tabs on her, find out for sure where to take the victims back once we get ’em away from her.”
Mom leaned back a little. “Ooh, good point. Do we free them as she brings them, or do we get them out once she’s trapped?”
Just then Ash’s computer dinged. “First match,” he announced. “Missing persons report out of Columbus, Ohio-Catholic schoolgirl disappeared on her way to school.”
“I’ll go look,” Cas stated and vanished. Before anyone could react much, he returned. “The girl is there, but Meg has warded a holding area with Enochian sigils to prevent Gabriel and me from entering. And it looks like the girl is both drugged and enspelled.”
Dean registered his displeasure in Kurdish at the same time Old Dean did the same in Gaelic.
Dad leaned forward. “Okay, then. It’s going to take human effort to get them out, which means we’ll have to wait until Meg’s in the trap. Mary, you think you can break the spell?”
Mom nodded. “If Cas can tell us how, I’m sure Samuel and I can manage it.”
“I will need another look while we’re sure Meg is away,” Cas replied, “but it should not be too difficult.”
Dad nodded, his eyes going slightly unfocused as he thought out loud. “We’re expecting eight victims. My truck, Mary’s car, the Impala-that should be plenty. Mary and Samuel, Sam and Jess, Dean can take the truck-”
“Dad,” Dean interrupted at the same time Old Dean said, “John.”
Dad blinked. “What?”
Dean shook his head. “I already called it.”
“Called-no, son. No. I am not going to let you fight this demon. I want you safe.”
One eyebrow went up. “Do I have to pull rank, Corporal?”
Sam gulped. Dean never talked back to Dad like this, never mind bringing up (except as a joke) the fact that he was a commissioned officer and Dad was a non-com. Dad looked like he wasn’t sure whether to be amused or mad.
Fortunately, Gabriel intervened. “Look, for this plan to work, we can’t just wait until Meg’s trapped. We need a diversion. And for that, I think Chronos had the right idea. We set up a shell game.” And he clapped a hand on Old Dean’s shoulder.
Old Dean grinned dangerously. “As you wish, old friend.”
“Dean?” Samuel’s weary voice interrupted from the doorway. “Is there any coffee left?”
Jess jumped up to tend to him, and Sam took advantage of the distraction to shoot Dean an incredulous look. Dean just shrugged an eyebrow and took a drink of his own coffee. Then he shot Sam a You had better take care of my car look, which Sam answered by raising his own mug with a You know I will nod.
And Ash muttered something about “That’s eerie” and pointedly focused on his computer once more.
Once the plan was squared away, Dean discussed potential dialogue with Old Dean and coached him in keeping his accent more American, while Sam and Jess worked on hex bags that would hide them from Meg, and Mom and Samuel retired to the living room to research the counter-spell with Cas and Gabe. Ash stayed glued to his laptop, and Dad spent most of the day on the phone with a friend of his at the Lawrence Police Department, trying to make arrangements for someone to meet the convoy at the hospital once they got Meg’s victims away from Stull and to come up with some kind of plausible cover story to explain both the case and the family’s involvement. Finally, they decided to blame it on a Satanist doomsday cult and call Ash an undercover FBI profiler who had recruited Sam and Dean.
Dad apparently expected Ash to laugh when he heard, but Ash just waved it off, barely taking his attention away from his computer. “Ah. I told bigger lies at MIT.”
Dad, Dean, and Jess all stared at him. Sam didn’t seem surprised at all, which meant he probably already knew that tidbit.
Old Dean, clearly feeling out of his depth again, asked, “Er... what is MIT?”
“Massachusetts Institute of Technology,” Dean replied. “It’s a college-uh, do they have colleges in 1150?”
“Aye, St. George in the Castle has one for the canons. And there is talk of forming a university soon, like those in Paris and Bologna.”
“Okay, awesome. MIT is a university, but sort of like a guild school, too; the focus is on science and technology. And it’s one of the best in the world. Dude, seriously,” Dean continued, addressing Ash, “you went to MIT?!”
“’Til they kicked me out for fightin’.” Ash grinned at him.
Dean laughed. “I almost went there-if I hadn’t gotten into the Academy, it was a toss-up between MIT and Georgia Tech.”
“Which Academy?”
“Annapolis.”
“No foolin’! My cousin went there!”
The conversation was interrupted by a ding from the computer, but before they got back to their respective tasks, Dean and Ash gave each other a grin that promised lots of interesting engineering talk once the hunt was over.
Once he and Old Dean had gone over everything at least five times, though, Dean found time slowing to a crawl. They headed out to pack the car only to find that Sam and Jess had already done so. Old Dean then suggested that the two of them cook supper, just to have something to do, and after supper Dean called Amanda to check in and find out how the kids were getting along with Uncle Bobby (Johnny declared him “awesome!” and in spite of his persistent warnings to her against trying to ride Rumsfeld, Bobbi Jo said, “He’s nif-fy!”). But still nightfall took forever to arrive, and even then Gabe counseled waiting for at least another hour to head toward Stull.
“She’ll be aiming for midnight, so she’ll start setting up the altar around 11:30,” Gabe explained. “It’s not that far-maybe 30 minutes, even if it’s raining, which it’s likely to. We don’t want to get there too early and risk her stumbling onto us, hex bags or no. It’ll be safe to move into position once she steps into the trap to start the prep, but not before.”
Dean sighed. “You sure we can’t just shoot her without revealing ourselves?”
“Sorry, Deano. Not if we’re going to keep those virgins alive. The spell’s got a kill switch; if it’s not broken first, killing the caster also kills the victim. Meg’s really hedging her bets this time.”
Dean called Meg a very unpleasant name in Arabic. Cas looked faintly surprised.
Gabe just nodded. “Pretty much.”
Mom came over and rubbed Dean’s shoulder. “I know, honey. Waiting was always one of the hardest parts for me, whether I wanted to be in on the hunt or not. Your Grandpa Campbell never liked it, either. But if Meg’s not taking any chances, neither should we.”
Dean ran a hand over his nose and mouth. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But-I mean, it’s D-Day. I just....”
“Want it over.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah. We all do.”
So naturally, that was the moment when Meg finally attacked Samuel again, which completely freaked Ash out-“and dude, I go to a snake-handlin’ church!” The attack itself didn’t last too long, thanks to Gabe being right there to pull Samuel out of it when it looked like he wasn’t going to be able to break free on his own, but getting everyone calmed down and getting Samuel back on his feet took most of the hour. By then a storm had blown up west of town, so angels and humans alike agreed that they’d waited long enough. Ash stayed behind in case the police called, but everyone else split among the three vehicles-Sam and Jess in Dad’s truck, Samuel in Mom’s car, and Old Dean and the angels in the Impala-and the convoy rolled out in reasonably quick time.
About a tenth of a mile out from Stull, all three drivers killed their lights and engines and coasted to a stop at a turnout just beyond the eastern end of the cemetery. That corner was screened from roadside view by trees and brush, which made it a natural place for Meg to stash her victims until she was ready for them. While Cas silently pulled down a section of fence for the rescuers to move through, Dean handed his keys to Sam, then turned his attention to Gabe, who handed him a Colt Paterson 1836 and then picked up a stray branch to turn into a reasonable facsimile of the same gun for Old Dean. Gabe then snapped his fingers as quietly as possible, and Dean found himself in position behind a tombstone at the edge of the main part of the cemetery. Seconds later the cell phone in his pocket vibrated, letting him know that everyone else was set.
There was almost no light, with the new moon long since set and clouds obscuring the stars. The lights of the houses across the street didn’t reach far enough to be of use, and even the skyglow from Lawrence wasn’t having much effect. Dean couldn’t suppress a shiver, even though it wasn’t all that cold. He’d seen some dark nights in the Sandbox, and some of them had been pretty scary, but this darkness... it was just oppressive. Evil.
But then a bright flash of cloud-to-cloud lightning lit up the area-just long enough for Dean to see a female figure that had to be Meg set her altar down square in the middle of the trap. And he smiled coldly to himself. It was showtime.
As soon as the flash faded, Dean bear-crawled forward to the base of the short slope separating him from Meg, and he sensed more than saw Old Dean do the same. Once they were both in position, his eyes had readjusted to the dark enough for him to just catch Old Dean’s go-ahead nod. He rose to a crouch, dusted himself off, then stood and walked up the slope to within easy earshot of Meg-while staying just outside the edge of the trap. She was intent on her work and didn’t notice him.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” he called, which succeeded in getting her attention. “May I ask what you’re doin’ out here?”
Lightning flashed again as Meg straightened, smirked, and started strolling toward him. “Oh, I think you know, Dean.”
“Really.”
“All those warnings I sent Little Brother?” She laughed. “And you still think you can stop me. Cute.”
“Never know.”
“You know, I have to admit, I’ve been curious about you for a long time. Angels haven’t walked the earth in centuries unless there’s been a prophet around to protect. You and Sam are clearly not prophets, but here you have two cut-rate angels hanging around you all the time.”
“Cut-rate?”
She laughed again. “Why do you think I keep getting away from them? They’re rebels, cut off from Heaven’s power, and their batteries are running low. But they still chose your family-a mechanic, a hunter, and two brats-over their own.” She stopped and gave him a searching once-over. “I wonder what makes you so special.”
“Oh, I think you know, Meg,” Dean heard his own voice say several yards away.
Meg gasped and turned just as lightning flashed again-and somehow, Gabe had managed to make Old Dean look exactly like Dean, down to height, haircut, and freckles. Had Dean not known that was the plan, he’d have been spooked; as it was, he was simply impressed.
“After all,” Old Dean continued, “I am the man who killed your father.”
“Or am I?” Dean picked up the thread as if he and Old Dean really were the same person. “I mean, 1148, that’s a long time ago. Maybe I’m just a Jarhead who knows evil when he sees it.”
“But maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m not even real.”
Meg’s fists clenched. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?” the Deans chorused, even shrugging at the same time. “I’m not doing anything.”
She looked from one to the other for a moment, seething, before finally pulling herself together. “Speaking of Mommy Dearest, that’s another puzzle. The Campbells were some of the best hunters around. Why’d Mary quit for some bland civilian life with a man like John?”
“Maybe she hated it,” both men replied.
“Maybe she wanted us safe,” Dean continued.
“Maybe she knew Hell hated her,” Old Dean countered.
“Maybe she sees something in Dad that you don’t.”
“Maybe Dad saw something in her that no one else did.”
Meg chuckled. “Or maybe John’s not really your daddy.” At Dean’s startled frown, she added, “C’mon, Dean, you think an angel would stick around for just anyone? Pretty girl, lonely night-”
“That’s a lie,” Old Dean declared-or at least it was Old Dean’s voice, though Dean thought they might be Gabe’s words. “They didn’t meet Mom until after she and Dad got married.”
“And Mary would never be unfaithful?”
“Of course not,” Dean shot back, and suddenly he felt Gabe’s reassuring hand between his shoulder blades. “Nobody in our family would be.”
Meg turned back to him. “Not even you? Face like yours, I would have pegged you for a player.”
“I’m married,” both Deans replied flatly.
“Before that, though?”
Old Dean’s smirk was almost audible. “Maybe I was-”
“And maybe I wasn’t,” Dean added in turn. And he hadn’t been. Amanda was his first, last, and only love, and they’d succeeded in waiting for marriage.
Meg’s frustration was palpable. “You know, Dean, I’m going to enjoy killing you.”
“Why?” both Deans replied. “I’m not a virgin.”
“No, but when this is over, I’m gonna have sooo much fun with you. I’m gonna take my time. Maybe spoil your perfect little record when it comes to fidelity.” She chuckled. “Maybe I’ll even let little Sammy watch.”
“Or maybe you won’t.”
“You see, Meg,” Dean continued alone as Old Dean began moving away, following the edge of the trap, “only one of us is leaving this cemetery alive tonight, and it’s not going to be you.”
She laughed. “Like you can really kill me.”
“Why not?” Old Dean returned. “I killed Azazel.”
“Cas killed Alastair,” Dean added.
“Samuel Colt killed your brother.”
“You don’t have the Colt,” Meg fumed, trying to keep an eye on both Deans at once. “Daniel Elkins has the Colt. I saw him with it just today! You haven’t even left Lawrence!”
“Are you sure?” asked Old Dean.
“You don’t think Cas coulda grabbed it in the meantime?” Dean jabbed.
“Dammit, I warded Elkins’ house! It’s angel-proof!”
“So there’s no possible way I could have that gun.”
“No way in Hell!”
As if on cue, Dean’s phone vibrated again, and he smirked. “Just like there’s no way in Hell an angel could have gotten those virgins away from you.”
Meg frowned. “What-”
A brief flash of fire suddenly showed through the trees at the far end of the cemetery. Meg gasped and spun, searching the darkness for her victims, but then they all saw headlights flash on and heard engines rev and dirt crunch as the rescue convoy sped away toward Lawrence. Meg’s shriek of dismay was cut off by another lightning flash that revealed that both Deans were now standing opposite each other, on the far sides of the trap, each aiming a Colt at her heart.
“No way in Hell,” Old Dean repeated.
“But not no way on Earth,” Dean noted.
Meg spun back and forth, seething as she tried to work out which Dean was real. “Why, you-”
As one, the Deans thumbed back their hammers. As one, they put their fingers on the triggers. As one, they said, “Goodbye, Meg.”
But Meg had one last trick up her sleeve. Unsure which threat was real, she lashed out with both arms at once, and at the very second the gun’s hammer struck home, Dean felt his feet leave the ground. Almost as if everything were happening in slow motion, he felt another force keeping his arm level long enough for the bullet to leave the barrel, so the bullet’s aim remained true. And he saw Meg light up with hellfire when it struck her heart. But then time sped up again, and he found himself flying backward down the hill and landing hard back-first against something vertical and solid.
Something that let out a loud “OOF!” on impact.
In Gabe’s voice.
Dean crumpled to the ground, badly winded but otherwise unhurt. A few moments later, Sam ran up to him, wild-eyed with panic. “Dean! DEAN!”
Dean panted loudly a couple of times. “Hey. I... I’m okay.”
Sam pulled him to his feet and gave him a thorough once-over before he recognized the figure slumped over the square, pillar-like grave marker with a Gothic-style pointed top that would surely have broken Dean’s back. “Un-Uncle Gabe?!”
“Cut-rate angel my eye,” Gabe wheezed.
Sam went over to him. “Are you hurt?”
“Nah, just... just winded. Dean’s... a lot heavier... than I thought.”
Old Dean, Samuel, and Cas jogged down the hill toward them at that point. “What is’t?” Samuel called. “Are all well?”
Dean gulped in a breath and nodded. “Will be.”
Sam helped Gabe stand upright. “What-I mean-”
“’S... the one true thing... anyone saw... all weekend,” Gabe explained, still working to catch his breath. “Not a healer... didn’t know... if I could fix... a broken back. So.”
Dean waited another couple of breaths and then pulled Gabe into a hug. “Thanks.”
Gabe huffed and patted Dean’s back gently. “Welcome, kiddo.”
Once Dean let go of Gabe, he turned back to Sam and Samuel. “Wait, weren’t you-”
“Did you seriously think I was leaving you here?” Sam interrupted.
Dean huffed and shook his head with a fond smile.
“Not only that,” Samuel added. “’Twas faster to have two wains ready to move while Sam and I stayed to break the spell. And Impala remains for us to return.”
Dean hadn’t quite formulated a response to that when they heard tires on the road and headlights illuminated the group as a car drove past. He couldn’t quite make out what kind of car it was, but it turned in at the cemetery entrance and drove up the drive toward them. Not until it pulled up even with them and stopped could Dean tell that it was a sheriff’s deputy’s car.
“Evenin’,” the deputy said as he got out. “Understand there was a shooting out here.”
“Yes,” Old Dean replied, slipping easily back into an American accent. “We were here assisting the FBI, and the young lady attacked my cousin. He shot in self-defense.”
The deputy looked over at Dean, who was still trying to catch his breath, and then turned back to Old Dean. “Young lady?”
“Her name is Meg Masters,” Cas answered. “I understand that she was kidnapped from her university in Chicago some weeks ago. The kidnappers belonged to a doomsday cult and brainwashed her badly, then sent her here to attempt an occult ritual to contact one of the lords of Hell.”
“And you are?”
And to Dean’s very great though swiftly-hidden shock, Cas reached into his trench coat pocket and produced an FBI badge as if he did it every day. “Agent Moscone, FBI. I believe the Lawrence police were already informed of our operation.”
The deputy eyed Cas skeptically and then radioed Lawrence PD’s dispatcher to find out whether or not they had in fact been informed of an FBI op. Receiving confirmation that they had, he turned to Dean again. “You all right, sir?”
Dean nodded. “Winded. Fell down the hill, landed pretty hard.”
“Suppose you’d better show me where it happened.”
“Come this way, my son,” said Samuel, which made the deputy double-take.
But Cas and Old Dean turned and headed up the hill, and Samuel was still holding his arm out inviting the deputy to follow. So follow he did, and Samuel fell into step beside him, answering questions as they walked.
Once they were out of earshot, Sam turned to Gabe, who was now grinning proudly after Cas. “Agent Moscone? How did you....”
“I didn’t,” Gabe replied. “That was Dean’s doing-from that other timeline. I’m amazed he kept the stupid thing, but I’m not gonna argue with the results.”
Dean could only huff and shake his head.
A few minutes later, the others came back down the hill again, the deputy on his radio apparently calling for the coroner. After they answered a few more questions and made their written statements, the deputy announced that he would not be filing charges and gave the Winchesters permission to leave. Sam insisted on driving, and Dean didn’t argue.
The car was pretty well silent on the way to the hospital, where Mom, Dad, and Jess met them in the ER waiting room. By then, both Dean and Gabe had pretty well recovered, and it didn’t take long for a doctor to come out and announce that all of the victims would be fine. There were sighs of relief and hugs all around, and then the family trooped back out to the cars.
It was over. They’d won. But Dean, at least, was still in too much of a daze to feel much like celebrating.
“So,” Dad said to Old Dean and Samuel in the parking lot. “Now that this is over... is this goodbye?”
Samuel looked at Old Dean, who shrugged. “I know not. ’Tis up to Gabriel, methinks.”
Gabe tilted his head a little. “I don’t mind waiting a couple of days, if you want to stay a little longer.”
Sam piped up, “Um... could you make that three or four days?”
Gabe blinked. “Why?”
“So... maybe they could come to the wedding?”
Mom and Dad gasped, Dean whooped, and Jess planted a huge kiss on Sam.
Gabe laughed. “Sure, if they want!”
Samuel laughed, too. “Why not?”
“Why not, indeed?” Old Dean agreed with a grin.
So it was settled.
Next
[1] In honor of Kim Rhodes (Jodi Mills), whose terminally ill father had been conned by neo-Nazi meth heads in Portland.
Chapter 4
Cry Havoc
After breakfast, Ash asked Sam to come out to the car with him to help bring in his computer. Puzzled, Sam agreed. Once they were out the door, though, Ash rounded on him. “What the blazes, man?!”
Sam sighed. “I’m sorry, dude. This all started Saturday; it’s not like I’ve been hiding stuff from you. And Gabriel said you knew about hunting, so... I... thought this kind of thing would be pretty normal for you.”
“Normal?! In what universe is having your ancestors grabbed out of the past considered normal?! Not to mention the archangel godfather thing-”
“Ash, I swear, I didn’t know until two days ago. Before that, he was just Crazy Uncle Gabe.”
“Do you have any idea of the number of hunters who would hunt you down for considering supernatural creatures members of the family?”
Sam blinked. “But... they’re angels.”
“Most hunters don’t think angels exist.”
“Wu-well, what do we do? It’s not like you just disown your godfather just because you find out he’s God’s Messenger.”
Ash rubbed his forehead. “I dunno. I dunno. But listen, amigo, you gotta be more careful who you trust. And by that, I mean hunters, not... anyway. You’re lucky I get it. Jo and Ellen will, too, and we’ll keep it under our hats. Who else have you told?”
“Bobby Singer. And I can’t remember if Dad’s talked to Pastor Jim-Jim Murphy, he’s a Lutheran pastor-”
“Up in Blue Earth. Yeah, we know him, and Bobby, too. They’re safe enough. I can think of maybe two other hunters who would be just as trustworthy, though. If Jim or Bobby vouches for someone, you’re probably okay, but don’t tell anybody else if you don’t have to. ¿Comprende?”
Sam sighed again and nodded. “Sí, comprendo.”
“Bueno. Here, I can get my rig if you can get the doors.”
Sam followed him to his truck and held the door open as he retrieved a wild-looking homemade laptop from the back seat. Then he got the front door for Ash and followed him inside just as Samuel stumbled toward the downstairs powder room with a sleepy “G’m’rrow” and a bemused passing glance at both Ash and his machine.
“You can go back to bed if you need,” Sam told him.
Samuel just nodded and disappeared into the powder room.
Mom and Jess had just finished clearing the breakfast table when Sam and Ash got back to the kitchen. To Old Dean’s very great confusion and Dean’s nod of engineering approval, Ash set up his rig while explaining some of the features of the tracking program he’d thrown together.
“Didn’t have time to plug in any criteria, though,” he added as he sat down. “What kinds of omens we lookin’ at?”
Mom sat down beside him and rattled off some omens that had kicked up on Saturday, probably around the time Chronos had stumbled across Meg at Stull Cemetery. Cas confirmed those and added some other information about where they knew for sure Meg had been that weekend. Ash nodded, typed in the data as they talked, and ran a search to confirm what they already knew, placing Meg in Chicago between the first time she’d attacked Samuel and the time she showed up at the convent. Those data points in place, he expanded the search to cover both omens and potentially related disappearances or deaths in the period since the sighting in Ilchester; that search turned up a neo-Nazi meth head in Portland who’d had his throat slashed, along with more anomalies around Stull that had died down a couple of hours earlier. [1]
“What’s the significance of the murder?” Dad asked.
“Blood phone,” Gabriel replied. “Demons use a chalice full of human blood to communicate over long distances.”
Everyone but Mom, Ash, and Cas shuddered at that. And Sam couldn’t help wondering just what Mom had seen growing up that had given her such nerves of steel when it came to this kind of thing.
“All right,” Ash announced then. “I’ll set this to track in real time. She’s got all day, and if she’s smart, she’ll take all day, probably jump all over the map. Be a deuce of a job to try to catch up with her.”
Dean shook his head. “No, we’re not playin’ catch-up. We just need to keep tabs on her, find out for sure where to take the victims back once we get ’em away from her.”
Mom leaned back a little. “Ooh, good point. Do we free them as she brings them, or do we get them out once she’s trapped?”
Just then Ash’s computer dinged. “First match,” he announced. “Missing persons report out of Columbus, Ohio-Catholic schoolgirl disappeared on her way to school.”
“I’ll go look,” Cas stated and vanished. Before anyone could react much, he returned. “The girl is there, but Meg has warded a holding area with Enochian sigils to prevent Gabriel and me from entering. And it looks like the girl is both drugged and enspelled.”
Dean registered his displeasure in Kurdish at the same time Old Dean did the same in Gaelic.
Dad leaned forward. “Okay, then. It’s going to take human effort to get them out, which means we’ll have to wait until Meg’s in the trap. Mary, you think you can break the spell?”
Mom nodded. “If Cas can tell us how, I’m sure Samuel and I can manage it.”
“I will need another look while we’re sure Meg is away,” Cas replied, “but it should not be too difficult.”
Dad nodded, his eyes going slightly unfocused as he thought out loud. “We’re expecting eight victims. My truck, Mary’s car, the Impala-that should be plenty. Mary and Samuel, Sam and Jess, Dean can take the truck-”
“Dad,” Dean interrupted at the same time Old Dean said, “John.”
Dad blinked. “What?”
Dean shook his head. “I already called it.”
“Called-no, son. No. I am not going to let you fight this demon. I want you safe.”
One eyebrow went up. “Do I have to pull rank, Corporal?”
Sam gulped. Dean never talked back to Dad like this, never mind bringing up (except as a joke) the fact that he was a commissioned officer and Dad was a non-com. Dad looked like he wasn’t sure whether to be amused or mad.
Fortunately, Gabriel intervened. “Look, for this plan to work, we can’t just wait until Meg’s trapped. We need a diversion. And for that, I think Chronos had the right idea. We set up a shell game.” And he clapped a hand on Old Dean’s shoulder.
Old Dean grinned dangerously. “As you wish, old friend.”
“Dean?” Samuel’s weary voice interrupted from the doorway. “Is there any coffee left?”
Jess jumped up to tend to him, and Sam took advantage of the distraction to shoot Dean an incredulous look. Dean just shrugged an eyebrow and took a drink of his own coffee. Then he shot Sam a You had better take care of my car look, which Sam answered by raising his own mug with a You know I will nod.
And Ash muttered something about “That’s eerie” and pointedly focused on his computer once more.
Once the plan was squared away, Dean discussed potential dialogue with Old Dean and coached him in keeping his accent more American, while Sam and Jess worked on hex bags that would hide them from Meg, and Mom and Samuel retired to the living room to research the counter-spell with Cas and Gabe. Ash stayed glued to his laptop, and Dad spent most of the day on the phone with a friend of his at the Lawrence Police Department, trying to make arrangements for someone to meet the convoy at the hospital once they got Meg’s victims away from Stull and to come up with some kind of plausible cover story to explain both the case and the family’s involvement. Finally, they decided to blame it on a Satanist doomsday cult and call Ash an undercover FBI profiler who had recruited Sam and Dean.
Dad apparently expected Ash to laugh when he heard, but Ash just waved it off, barely taking his attention away from his computer. “Ah. I told bigger lies at MIT.”
Dad, Dean, and Jess all stared at him. Sam didn’t seem surprised at all, which meant he probably already knew that tidbit.
Old Dean, clearly feeling out of his depth again, asked, “Er... what is MIT?”
“Massachusetts Institute of Technology,” Dean replied. “It’s a college-uh, do they have colleges in 1150?”
“Aye, St. George in the Castle has one for the canons. And there is talk of forming a university soon, like those in Paris and Bologna.”
“Okay, awesome. MIT is a university, but sort of like a guild school, too; the focus is on science and technology. And it’s one of the best in the world. Dude, seriously,” Dean continued, addressing Ash, “you went to MIT?!”
“’Til they kicked me out for fightin’.” Ash grinned at him.
Dean laughed. “I almost went there-if I hadn’t gotten into the Academy, it was a toss-up between MIT and Georgia Tech.”
“Which Academy?”
“Annapolis.”
“No foolin’! My cousin went there!”
The conversation was interrupted by a ding from the computer, but before they got back to their respective tasks, Dean and Ash gave each other a grin that promised lots of interesting engineering talk once the hunt was over.
Once he and Old Dean had gone over everything at least five times, though, Dean found time slowing to a crawl. They headed out to pack the car only to find that Sam and Jess had already done so. Old Dean then suggested that the two of them cook supper, just to have something to do, and after supper Dean called Amanda to check in and find out how the kids were getting along with Uncle Bobby (Johnny declared him “awesome!” and in spite of his persistent warnings to her against trying to ride Rumsfeld, Bobbi Jo said, “He’s nif-fy!”). But still nightfall took forever to arrive, and even then Gabe counseled waiting for at least another hour to head toward Stull.
“She’ll be aiming for midnight, so she’ll start setting up the altar around 11:30,” Gabe explained. “It’s not that far-maybe 30 minutes, even if it’s raining, which it’s likely to. We don’t want to get there too early and risk her stumbling onto us, hex bags or no. It’ll be safe to move into position once she steps into the trap to start the prep, but not before.”
Dean sighed. “You sure we can’t just shoot her without revealing ourselves?”
“Sorry, Deano. Not if we’re going to keep those virgins alive. The spell’s got a kill switch; if it’s not broken first, killing the caster also kills the victim. Meg’s really hedging her bets this time.”
Dean called Meg a very unpleasant name in Arabic. Cas looked faintly surprised.
Gabe just nodded. “Pretty much.”
Mom came over and rubbed Dean’s shoulder. “I know, honey. Waiting was always one of the hardest parts for me, whether I wanted to be in on the hunt or not. Your Grandpa Campbell never liked it, either. But if Meg’s not taking any chances, neither should we.”
Dean ran a hand over his nose and mouth. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But-I mean, it’s D-Day. I just....”
“Want it over.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah. We all do.”
So naturally, that was the moment when Meg finally attacked Samuel again, which completely freaked Ash out-“and dude, I go to a snake-handlin’ church!” The attack itself didn’t last too long, thanks to Gabe being right there to pull Samuel out of it when it looked like he wasn’t going to be able to break free on his own, but getting everyone calmed down and getting Samuel back on his feet took most of the hour. By then a storm had blown up west of town, so angels and humans alike agreed that they’d waited long enough. Ash stayed behind in case the police called, but everyone else split among the three vehicles-Sam and Jess in Dad’s truck, Samuel in Mom’s car, and Old Dean and the angels in the Impala-and the convoy rolled out in reasonably quick time.
About a tenth of a mile out from Stull, all three drivers killed their lights and engines and coasted to a stop at a turnout just beyond the eastern end of the cemetery. That corner was screened from roadside view by trees and brush, which made it a natural place for Meg to stash her victims until she was ready for them. While Cas silently pulled down a section of fence for the rescuers to move through, Dean handed his keys to Sam, then turned his attention to Gabe, who handed him a Colt Paterson 1836 and then picked up a stray branch to turn into a reasonable facsimile of the same gun for Old Dean. Gabe then snapped his fingers as quietly as possible, and Dean found himself in position behind a tombstone at the edge of the main part of the cemetery. Seconds later the cell phone in his pocket vibrated, letting him know that everyone else was set.
There was almost no light, with the new moon long since set and clouds obscuring the stars. The lights of the houses across the street didn’t reach far enough to be of use, and even the skyglow from Lawrence wasn’t having much effect. Dean couldn’t suppress a shiver, even though it wasn’t all that cold. He’d seen some dark nights in the Sandbox, and some of them had been pretty scary, but this darkness... it was just oppressive. Evil.
But then a bright flash of cloud-to-cloud lightning lit up the area-just long enough for Dean to see a female figure that had to be Meg set her altar down square in the middle of the trap. And he smiled coldly to himself. It was showtime.
As soon as the flash faded, Dean bear-crawled forward to the base of the short slope separating him from Meg, and he sensed more than saw Old Dean do the same. Once they were both in position, his eyes had readjusted to the dark enough for him to just catch Old Dean’s go-ahead nod. He rose to a crouch, dusted himself off, then stood and walked up the slope to within easy earshot of Meg-while staying just outside the edge of the trap. She was intent on her work and didn’t notice him.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” he called, which succeeded in getting her attention. “May I ask what you’re doin’ out here?”
Lightning flashed again as Meg straightened, smirked, and started strolling toward him. “Oh, I think you know, Dean.”
“Really.”
“All those warnings I sent Little Brother?” She laughed. “And you still think you can stop me. Cute.”
“Never know.”
“You know, I have to admit, I’ve been curious about you for a long time. Angels haven’t walked the earth in centuries unless there’s been a prophet around to protect. You and Sam are clearly not prophets, but here you have two cut-rate angels hanging around you all the time.”
“Cut-rate?”
She laughed again. “Why do you think I keep getting away from them? They’re rebels, cut off from Heaven’s power, and their batteries are running low. But they still chose your family-a mechanic, a hunter, and two brats-over their own.” She stopped and gave him a searching once-over. “I wonder what makes you so special.”
“Oh, I think you know, Meg,” Dean heard his own voice say several yards away.
Meg gasped and turned just as lightning flashed again-and somehow, Gabe had managed to make Old Dean look exactly like Dean, down to height, haircut, and freckles. Had Dean not known that was the plan, he’d have been spooked; as it was, he was simply impressed.
“After all,” Old Dean continued, “I am the man who killed your father.”
“Or am I?” Dean picked up the thread as if he and Old Dean really were the same person. “I mean, 1148, that’s a long time ago. Maybe I’m just a Jarhead who knows evil when he sees it.”
“But maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m not even real.”
Meg’s fists clenched. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?” the Deans chorused, even shrugging at the same time. “I’m not doing anything.”
She looked from one to the other for a moment, seething, before finally pulling herself together. “Speaking of Mommy Dearest, that’s another puzzle. The Campbells were some of the best hunters around. Why’d Mary quit for some bland civilian life with a man like John?”
“Maybe she hated it,” both men replied.
“Maybe she wanted us safe,” Dean continued.
“Maybe she knew Hell hated her,” Old Dean countered.
“Maybe she sees something in Dad that you don’t.”
“Maybe Dad saw something in her that no one else did.”
Meg chuckled. “Or maybe John’s not really your daddy.” At Dean’s startled frown, she added, “C’mon, Dean, you think an angel would stick around for just anyone? Pretty girl, lonely night-”
“That’s a lie,” Old Dean declared-or at least it was Old Dean’s voice, though Dean thought they might be Gabe’s words. “They didn’t meet Mom until after she and Dad got married.”
“And Mary would never be unfaithful?”
“Of course not,” Dean shot back, and suddenly he felt Gabe’s reassuring hand between his shoulder blades. “Nobody in our family would be.”
Meg turned back to him. “Not even you? Face like yours, I would have pegged you for a player.”
“I’m married,” both Deans replied flatly.
“Before that, though?”
Old Dean’s smirk was almost audible. “Maybe I was-”
“And maybe I wasn’t,” Dean added in turn. And he hadn’t been. Amanda was his first, last, and only love, and they’d succeeded in waiting for marriage.
Meg’s frustration was palpable. “You know, Dean, I’m going to enjoy killing you.”
“Why?” both Deans replied. “I’m not a virgin.”
“No, but when this is over, I’m gonna have sooo much fun with you. I’m gonna take my time. Maybe spoil your perfect little record when it comes to fidelity.” She chuckled. “Maybe I’ll even let little Sammy watch.”
“Or maybe you won’t.”
“You see, Meg,” Dean continued alone as Old Dean began moving away, following the edge of the trap, “only one of us is leaving this cemetery alive tonight, and it’s not going to be you.”
She laughed. “Like you can really kill me.”
“Why not?” Old Dean returned. “I killed Azazel.”
“Cas killed Alastair,” Dean added.
“Samuel Colt killed your brother.”
“You don’t have the Colt,” Meg fumed, trying to keep an eye on both Deans at once. “Daniel Elkins has the Colt. I saw him with it just today! You haven’t even left Lawrence!”
“Are you sure?” asked Old Dean.
“You don’t think Cas coulda grabbed it in the meantime?” Dean jabbed.
“Dammit, I warded Elkins’ house! It’s angel-proof!”
“So there’s no possible way I could have that gun.”
“No way in Hell!”
As if on cue, Dean’s phone vibrated again, and he smirked. “Just like there’s no way in Hell an angel could have gotten those virgins away from you.”
Meg frowned. “What-”
A brief flash of fire suddenly showed through the trees at the far end of the cemetery. Meg gasped and spun, searching the darkness for her victims, but then they all saw headlights flash on and heard engines rev and dirt crunch as the rescue convoy sped away toward Lawrence. Meg’s shriek of dismay was cut off by another lightning flash that revealed that both Deans were now standing opposite each other, on the far sides of the trap, each aiming a Colt at her heart.
“No way in Hell,” Old Dean repeated.
“But not no way on Earth,” Dean noted.
Meg spun back and forth, seething as she tried to work out which Dean was real. “Why, you-”
As one, the Deans thumbed back their hammers. As one, they put their fingers on the triggers. As one, they said, “Goodbye, Meg.”
But Meg had one last trick up her sleeve. Unsure which threat was real, she lashed out with both arms at once, and at the very second the gun’s hammer struck home, Dean felt his feet leave the ground. Almost as if everything were happening in slow motion, he felt another force keeping his arm level long enough for the bullet to leave the barrel, so the bullet’s aim remained true. And he saw Meg light up with hellfire when it struck her heart. But then time sped up again, and he found himself flying backward down the hill and landing hard back-first against something vertical and solid.
Something that let out a loud “OOF!” on impact.
In Gabe’s voice.
Dean crumpled to the ground, badly winded but otherwise unhurt. A few moments later, Sam ran up to him, wild-eyed with panic. “Dean! DEAN!”
Dean panted loudly a couple of times. “Hey. I... I’m okay.”
Sam pulled him to his feet and gave him a thorough once-over before he recognized the figure slumped over the square, pillar-like grave marker with a Gothic-style pointed top that would surely have broken Dean’s back. “Un-Uncle Gabe?!”
“Cut-rate angel my eye,” Gabe wheezed.
Sam went over to him. “Are you hurt?”
“Nah, just... just winded. Dean’s... a lot heavier... than I thought.”
Old Dean, Samuel, and Cas jogged down the hill toward them at that point. “What is’t?” Samuel called. “Are all well?”
Dean gulped in a breath and nodded. “Will be.”
Sam helped Gabe stand upright. “What-I mean-”
“’S... the one true thing... anyone saw... all weekend,” Gabe explained, still working to catch his breath. “Not a healer... didn’t know... if I could fix... a broken back. So.”
Dean waited another couple of breaths and then pulled Gabe into a hug. “Thanks.”
Gabe huffed and patted Dean’s back gently. “Welcome, kiddo.”
Once Dean let go of Gabe, he turned back to Sam and Samuel. “Wait, weren’t you-”
“Did you seriously think I was leaving you here?” Sam interrupted.
Dean huffed and shook his head with a fond smile.
“Not only that,” Samuel added. “’Twas faster to have two wains ready to move while Sam and I stayed to break the spell. And Impala remains for us to return.”
Dean hadn’t quite formulated a response to that when they heard tires on the road and headlights illuminated the group as a car drove past. He couldn’t quite make out what kind of car it was, but it turned in at the cemetery entrance and drove up the drive toward them. Not until it pulled up even with them and stopped could Dean tell that it was a sheriff’s deputy’s car.
“Evenin’,” the deputy said as he got out. “Understand there was a shooting out here.”
“Yes,” Old Dean replied, slipping easily back into an American accent. “We were here assisting the FBI, and the young lady attacked my cousin. He shot in self-defense.”
The deputy looked over at Dean, who was still trying to catch his breath, and then turned back to Old Dean. “Young lady?”
“Her name is Meg Masters,” Cas answered. “I understand that she was kidnapped from her university in Chicago some weeks ago. The kidnappers belonged to a doomsday cult and brainwashed her badly, then sent her here to attempt an occult ritual to contact one of the lords of Hell.”
“And you are?”
And to Dean’s very great though swiftly-hidden shock, Cas reached into his trench coat pocket and produced an FBI badge as if he did it every day. “Agent Moscone, FBI. I believe the Lawrence police were already informed of our operation.”
The deputy eyed Cas skeptically and then radioed Lawrence PD’s dispatcher to find out whether or not they had in fact been informed of an FBI op. Receiving confirmation that they had, he turned to Dean again. “You all right, sir?”
Dean nodded. “Winded. Fell down the hill, landed pretty hard.”
“Suppose you’d better show me where it happened.”
“Come this way, my son,” said Samuel, which made the deputy double-take.
But Cas and Old Dean turned and headed up the hill, and Samuel was still holding his arm out inviting the deputy to follow. So follow he did, and Samuel fell into step beside him, answering questions as they walked.
Once they were out of earshot, Sam turned to Gabe, who was now grinning proudly after Cas. “Agent Moscone? How did you....”
“I didn’t,” Gabe replied. “That was Dean’s doing-from that other timeline. I’m amazed he kept the stupid thing, but I’m not gonna argue with the results.”
Dean could only huff and shake his head.
A few minutes later, the others came back down the hill again, the deputy on his radio apparently calling for the coroner. After they answered a few more questions and made their written statements, the deputy announced that he would not be filing charges and gave the Winchesters permission to leave. Sam insisted on driving, and Dean didn’t argue.
The car was pretty well silent on the way to the hospital, where Mom, Dad, and Jess met them in the ER waiting room. By then, both Dean and Gabe had pretty well recovered, and it didn’t take long for a doctor to come out and announce that all of the victims would be fine. There were sighs of relief and hugs all around, and then the family trooped back out to the cars.
It was over. They’d won. But Dean, at least, was still in too much of a daze to feel much like celebrating.
“So,” Dad said to Old Dean and Samuel in the parking lot. “Now that this is over... is this goodbye?”
Samuel looked at Old Dean, who shrugged. “I know not. ’Tis up to Gabriel, methinks.”
Gabe tilted his head a little. “I don’t mind waiting a couple of days, if you want to stay a little longer.”
Sam piped up, “Um... could you make that three or four days?”
Gabe blinked. “Why?”
“So... maybe they could come to the wedding?”
Mom and Dad gasped, Dean whooped, and Jess planted a huge kiss on Sam.
Gabe laughed. “Sure, if they want!”
Samuel laughed, too. “Why not?”
“Why not, indeed?” Old Dean agreed with a grin.
So it was settled.
Next
[1] In honor of Kim Rhodes (Jodi Mills), whose terminally ill father had been conned by neo-Nazi meth heads in Portland.