Highway to Hell: Episode Four: Series Finale: "Fallen Angel"
Episode 4 : Fallen Angel
Chapter 7: Turncoat
Chapter Wordcount: 1817
Dean crouched down by the old weathered iron gate and inserted the pick, concentrating on the lock.
“Well look at you being all spytastic,” Monte whispered with a grin.
“What?!” Dean hissed, pausing.
She laughed, “Just pick the damn lock.”
*Blue Oyster Cult’s “Harvest Moon” playing in the background*
He scowled before continuing.
John chuckled and smiled at Monte.
Finally the lock surrendered with a soft click. Dean tossed Monte a sarcastic grin.
She just rolled her eyes.
They all slowly crept their way up the small hill, crouching behind a statue at the crest.
There in front of them sat the old church ruins, five very old oaks making a pattern of a star around the dilapidated building.
Sam swallowed nervously, recalling his disturbing dream.
Monte heard him and glanced over at him but he was too absorbed in the church to notice.
Dean looked pissed, which she had a feeling wouldn’t end well.
And John…John just looked as composed as ever.
Monte looked back at the foreboding building, cursing that it was even possible for evil to exist and make what used to be a beautiful structure so sinister.
“Alright, let’s go,” John whispered.
When they finally stepped inside what was left of the walls the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.
Monte stopped and listened to everything around her, making Dean’s already overdrive system go into hyperdrive.
His shotgun was raised and he spun, “What is it?” he hissed.
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Nothing! Will you just take a friggin’ chill pill?!” she whispered harshly.
Dean scowled.
John went towards where the pulpit once stood and motioned for Sam to bring the duffle bag he was carrying.
Sam crouched down next to his dad and opened the army green duffle with a soft zip.
Dean and Monte stood point.
John took out a small piece of chalk and drew a pentagram, starting with the top point.
Monte watched his careful movements, instantly recognizing the symbol to be an invoking pentagram.
Growing up with a best friend that was Wiccan had its perks.
Next, he carefully scrawled what must have been Latin, or possibly something even older, around the circle before reaching back into the bag.
Dean walked over to Monte as his Dad continued preparing to summon their enemy.
He slipped his necklace off and dropped it over Monte’s head.
She looked at him wide eyed. He had never told her what it meant, and she had never asked, but the fact that the boy never took it off told her it meant a great deal to him.
The corner of his mouth twitched into a nervous grin. “For protection…can’t hurt,” he shrugged before turning.
Monte stood shocked for a moment, rolling the small brass figure between her fingers before once again looking to see what John was doing.
John took out a small glass vile of rock salt and poured it into a small pile at the northernmost point of his drawing. Next he took out a bottle of water, said a soft prayer and tied a string of rosary beads around it and put it to the west. He lit a small cone of incense, set it to the east and finally lit a black candle and set it on the south side.
He stood up and took a step back before opening a small drawstring pouch and pulling out some crushed leaves. He sprinkled them in a circle, letting them fall over the four directional objects.
Monte distinctly smelled cloves when some of the dried herbs burned in the candle’s flame.
Her brow furrowed when she remembered that herb was used for power and in some exorcisms.
John paused and inhaled deeply before meeting the questioning gazes of the three youngsters.
“You ready?”
Dean clenched his jaw, shooting a glance at a figity Sam and then looked at Monte who arched her brow in challenge.
John took another deep breath and the three disappeared into the shadows at the edges of the building.
He glanced around, making eye contact with each before opening his journal to a dog eared page and began reading Latin.
Wind swirled throughout the small building, threatening to put out the small candle’s flame and the clouds over the church parted.
Monte watched as the stars shown brightly across the moonless sky.
John’s voice grew louder and he bellowed deeper as he continued reading the foreign tongue.
He paused and Monte watched carefully before he uttered one more phrase.
Lightning with no sound shot across the sky and a glow started in the center of John’s chalk pentagram.
He took a step back and pulled his gun as a hazy figure began to take shape in the circle.
They all held their breath as the cloaked demon materialized in front of them.
“Hello John,” it growled.
John leveled his .45 at him and fired.
The demon snatched the bullet out of the air and opened his palm, disintegrating the bullet in front of their eyes.
“Tsk, tsk, John…I would have thought you would have known better.”
“Had to try,” he shrugged.
Dean cursed under his breath, realizing the weapons they brought wouldn’t do a lick of good.
The demon’s eyes bored into John. He could feel every memory, every angst ridden emotion that flowed through his veins.
Oh, how beautiful it tasted.
It smiled, its canines more pointed than anything human and Monte shifted unconsciously, remembering the grin her brother had flashed at her.
The demon took one step out of the circle and they all stiffened.
There was more to the ritual. John had located a very old, thousands of years before Christ, exorcism that would actually kill the beast, instead of just sending it back to hell.
But…they had to trap it first.
John had contacted Bobby, an old friend, and had borrowed an ancient book which contained a drawing of a Devil’s Trap. A complicated figure that, if you were able to get a demon inside, would render it completely powerless.
A Devil’s Trap was sketched on what little was left of the ceiling of the church.
The demon approached John and stopped dead about two feet in front of him. Two feet from being imprisoned.
It grinned.
“Oh, Sammy, I can feel your exquisite pain from over here,” it crooned, turning its yellow eyes to pierce through Sam where he stood in the shadows.
Dean unconsciously edged closer to his little brother.
“I gotta tell you, I thought little Jessica’s pain was delish. But you Winchesters…mmm mmm good,” it winked.
“Leave him out of this,” John hissed.
The demon turned and again fixed John with a smile.
“Now John, if you really didn’t want him a part of this you wouldn’t have brought him here.”
John’s jaw clenched under his stubble.
Another flash of lightning without sound crashed across the sky and next thing they knew John was thrown across the room with such force that he completely went through the stone wall.
Dean was instantly staring the demon down with his shotgun aimed.
“Don’t you fucking move you son of a bitch!”
“Now, Dean…you know better than to react so…recklessly. Didn’t daddy dearest teach you better?” he said in a sickly sweet voice, waving his hand and effortlessly crushing Dean’s weapon without ever touching it.
They all heard John’s labored moan from beyond the wall and they knew time was running out.
Sam had carefully inched around while the demon’s attention had been on Dean and picked up his Dad’s discarded journal. All they had to do was get it in the Devil’s Trap and this would all be over.
It turned and again smiled at Sam.
Monte glanced nervously to the hole through the wall and was tempted to make a run for it to check on John.
“You know…for they way you boys were raised I’m a bit disappointed. I can read your thoughts from here Sammy.”
It turned its head slowly to look straight at the Devil’s Trap before once again turning to look at the boys.
“Oh, and Dean…I know your girlfriend’s here.”
Monte clenched her jaw and silently stalked from the shadows.
“Hi dear, I must say…he’s got good taste.”
She sneered.
“Now, now, manners young lady, after all you have met one of our kind before haven’t you?” it winked.
It took every ounce of strength and willpower she had not to launch herself at that son of a bitch right then and there.
“You son of a bitch,” Dean hissed.
“Shut up,” she cut out walking slowly up to the cloaked figure. Dean stopped stunned and watched her.
“Why?”
“Why?” it cocked its eyebrow. “Baby, you would never understand.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Why did your brother join us? Well, because of the power. There’s so much power,” it whispered.
She stood toe to toe with it and stared into its swirling yellow eyes.
It could feel the pain literally coursing through the Winchester’s blood at the fact that she was so close to it and it savored the taste.
“And the pain…oh god, the pain is exquisite.”
Monte stood quietly, pretending to ignore the still moaning John from across the wall.
“Can you make it go away?” she asked quietly, beginning to circle its still form.
It arched its eyebrow and glanced at the Winchesters. Sam had taken a few steps towards his father and the demon lifted its hand rooting him to the spot where he stood.
“What sweetheart?” he grinned, still looking at Sam.
“The pain.”
Dean couldn’t breathe. Please God, tell him this wasn’t going where he thought it was.
It felt a sudden wave of terror from the boys and it closed its eyes for a second in bliss.
“Oh sweetheart, the pain doesn’t go away, it just becomes something you want more of. You see, on this side, the pain is…delicious. It’s so, heavenly,” it laughed. “It wouldn’t hurt anymore, I promise you that.”
He twirled his wrist and she heard both Dean and Sam hiss in pain but she dug down deep and plastered a blank look on her face and refused to look.
She sighed and stared down the being. “How?”
Dean hit his knees. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel. All he knew was the woman he loved was willingly turning to the other side.
The demon stood intrigued by this woman, and relishing in the pain that was rolling off of the older son. It stalked towards her.
“Well, most prefer the handshake, but you see, I prefer something a little more…intimate,” it sneered, leaning close to her.
She swallowed nervously. “You promise the pain will end?”
“Like I said baby, not end…but trust me, you’ll enjoy it.”
She swallowed again and nodded.
“No,” Dean wheezed against the constriction in his chest.
Sam stared in shock as the demon leaned in to kiss her.
Previous: Chapter Six | Next: Chapter Eight
Highway to Hell Master Post
Chapter 7: Turncoat
Chapter Wordcount: 1817
Dean crouched down by the old weathered iron gate and inserted the pick, concentrating on the lock.
“Well look at you being all spytastic,” Monte whispered with a grin.
“What?!” Dean hissed, pausing.
She laughed, “Just pick the damn lock.”
*Blue Oyster Cult’s “Harvest Moon” playing in the background*
He scowled before continuing.
John chuckled and smiled at Monte.
Finally the lock surrendered with a soft click. Dean tossed Monte a sarcastic grin.
She just rolled her eyes.
They all slowly crept their way up the small hill, crouching behind a statue at the crest.
There in front of them sat the old church ruins, five very old oaks making a pattern of a star around the dilapidated building.
Sam swallowed nervously, recalling his disturbing dream.
Monte heard him and glanced over at him but he was too absorbed in the church to notice.
Dean looked pissed, which she had a feeling wouldn’t end well.
And John…John just looked as composed as ever.
Monte looked back at the foreboding building, cursing that it was even possible for evil to exist and make what used to be a beautiful structure so sinister.
“Alright, let’s go,” John whispered.
When they finally stepped inside what was left of the walls the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.
Monte stopped and listened to everything around her, making Dean’s already overdrive system go into hyperdrive.
His shotgun was raised and he spun, “What is it?” he hissed.
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Nothing! Will you just take a friggin’ chill pill?!” she whispered harshly.
Dean scowled.
John went towards where the pulpit once stood and motioned for Sam to bring the duffle bag he was carrying.
Sam crouched down next to his dad and opened the army green duffle with a soft zip.
Dean and Monte stood point.
John took out a small piece of chalk and drew a pentagram, starting with the top point.
Monte watched his careful movements, instantly recognizing the symbol to be an invoking pentagram.
Growing up with a best friend that was Wiccan had its perks.
Next, he carefully scrawled what must have been Latin, or possibly something even older, around the circle before reaching back into the bag.
Dean walked over to Monte as his Dad continued preparing to summon their enemy.
He slipped his necklace off and dropped it over Monte’s head.
She looked at him wide eyed. He had never told her what it meant, and she had never asked, but the fact that the boy never took it off told her it meant a great deal to him.
The corner of his mouth twitched into a nervous grin. “For protection…can’t hurt,” he shrugged before turning.
Monte stood shocked for a moment, rolling the small brass figure between her fingers before once again looking to see what John was doing.
John took out a small glass vile of rock salt and poured it into a small pile at the northernmost point of his drawing. Next he took out a bottle of water, said a soft prayer and tied a string of rosary beads around it and put it to the west. He lit a small cone of incense, set it to the east and finally lit a black candle and set it on the south side.
He stood up and took a step back before opening a small drawstring pouch and pulling out some crushed leaves. He sprinkled them in a circle, letting them fall over the four directional objects.
Monte distinctly smelled cloves when some of the dried herbs burned in the candle’s flame.
Her brow furrowed when she remembered that herb was used for power and in some exorcisms.
John paused and inhaled deeply before meeting the questioning gazes of the three youngsters.
“You ready?”
Dean clenched his jaw, shooting a glance at a figity Sam and then looked at Monte who arched her brow in challenge.
John took another deep breath and the three disappeared into the shadows at the edges of the building.
He glanced around, making eye contact with each before opening his journal to a dog eared page and began reading Latin.
Wind swirled throughout the small building, threatening to put out the small candle’s flame and the clouds over the church parted.
Monte watched as the stars shown brightly across the moonless sky.
John’s voice grew louder and he bellowed deeper as he continued reading the foreign tongue.
He paused and Monte watched carefully before he uttered one more phrase.
Lightning with no sound shot across the sky and a glow started in the center of John’s chalk pentagram.
He took a step back and pulled his gun as a hazy figure began to take shape in the circle.
They all held their breath as the cloaked demon materialized in front of them.
“Hello John,” it growled.
John leveled his .45 at him and fired.
The demon snatched the bullet out of the air and opened his palm, disintegrating the bullet in front of their eyes.
“Tsk, tsk, John…I would have thought you would have known better.”
“Had to try,” he shrugged.
Dean cursed under his breath, realizing the weapons they brought wouldn’t do a lick of good.
The demon’s eyes bored into John. He could feel every memory, every angst ridden emotion that flowed through his veins.
Oh, how beautiful it tasted.
It smiled, its canines more pointed than anything human and Monte shifted unconsciously, remembering the grin her brother had flashed at her.
The demon took one step out of the circle and they all stiffened.
There was more to the ritual. John had located a very old, thousands of years before Christ, exorcism that would actually kill the beast, instead of just sending it back to hell.
But…they had to trap it first.
John had contacted Bobby, an old friend, and had borrowed an ancient book which contained a drawing of a Devil’s Trap. A complicated figure that, if you were able to get a demon inside, would render it completely powerless.
A Devil’s Trap was sketched on what little was left of the ceiling of the church.
The demon approached John and stopped dead about two feet in front of him. Two feet from being imprisoned.
It grinned.
“Oh, Sammy, I can feel your exquisite pain from over here,” it crooned, turning its yellow eyes to pierce through Sam where he stood in the shadows.
Dean unconsciously edged closer to his little brother.
“I gotta tell you, I thought little Jessica’s pain was delish. But you Winchesters…mmm mmm good,” it winked.
“Leave him out of this,” John hissed.
The demon turned and again fixed John with a smile.
“Now John, if you really didn’t want him a part of this you wouldn’t have brought him here.”
John’s jaw clenched under his stubble.
Another flash of lightning without sound crashed across the sky and next thing they knew John was thrown across the room with such force that he completely went through the stone wall.
Dean was instantly staring the demon down with his shotgun aimed.
“Don’t you fucking move you son of a bitch!”
“Now, Dean…you know better than to react so…recklessly. Didn’t daddy dearest teach you better?” he said in a sickly sweet voice, waving his hand and effortlessly crushing Dean’s weapon without ever touching it.
They all heard John’s labored moan from beyond the wall and they knew time was running out.
Sam had carefully inched around while the demon’s attention had been on Dean and picked up his Dad’s discarded journal. All they had to do was get it in the Devil’s Trap and this would all be over.
It turned and again smiled at Sam.
Monte glanced nervously to the hole through the wall and was tempted to make a run for it to check on John.
“You know…for they way you boys were raised I’m a bit disappointed. I can read your thoughts from here Sammy.”
It turned its head slowly to look straight at the Devil’s Trap before once again turning to look at the boys.
“Oh, and Dean…I know your girlfriend’s here.”
Monte clenched her jaw and silently stalked from the shadows.
“Hi dear, I must say…he’s got good taste.”
She sneered.
“Now, now, manners young lady, after all you have met one of our kind before haven’t you?” it winked.
It took every ounce of strength and willpower she had not to launch herself at that son of a bitch right then and there.
“You son of a bitch,” Dean hissed.
“Shut up,” she cut out walking slowly up to the cloaked figure. Dean stopped stunned and watched her.
“Why?”
“Why?” it cocked its eyebrow. “Baby, you would never understand.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Why did your brother join us? Well, because of the power. There’s so much power,” it whispered.
She stood toe to toe with it and stared into its swirling yellow eyes.
It could feel the pain literally coursing through the Winchester’s blood at the fact that she was so close to it and it savored the taste.
“And the pain…oh god, the pain is exquisite.”
Monte stood quietly, pretending to ignore the still moaning John from across the wall.
“Can you make it go away?” she asked quietly, beginning to circle its still form.
It arched its eyebrow and glanced at the Winchesters. Sam had taken a few steps towards his father and the demon lifted its hand rooting him to the spot where he stood.
“What sweetheart?” he grinned, still looking at Sam.
“The pain.”
Dean couldn’t breathe. Please God, tell him this wasn’t going where he thought it was.
It felt a sudden wave of terror from the boys and it closed its eyes for a second in bliss.
“Oh sweetheart, the pain doesn’t go away, it just becomes something you want more of. You see, on this side, the pain is…delicious. It’s so, heavenly,” it laughed. “It wouldn’t hurt anymore, I promise you that.”
He twirled his wrist and she heard both Dean and Sam hiss in pain but she dug down deep and plastered a blank look on her face and refused to look.
She sighed and stared down the being. “How?”
Dean hit his knees. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel. All he knew was the woman he loved was willingly turning to the other side.
The demon stood intrigued by this woman, and relishing in the pain that was rolling off of the older son. It stalked towards her.
“Well, most prefer the handshake, but you see, I prefer something a little more…intimate,” it sneered, leaning close to her.
She swallowed nervously. “You promise the pain will end?”
“Like I said baby, not end…but trust me, you’ll enjoy it.”
She swallowed again and nodded.
“No,” Dean wheezed against the constriction in his chest.
Sam stared in shock as the demon leaned in to kiss her.
Previous: Chapter Six | Next: Chapter Eight
Highway to Hell Master Post