A Time for War 1/7
Series Master Post
Summary: From Cold Oak to Sunrise, Phase 3 of the Stanford Adventure Club's plan to save Sam Winchester leads through ghost towns and demon fire to the very gates of Hell. But despite their triumphs, Zantabraxus warns that the war's not over yet, and soon the club has a new and deadlier mission--with John Winchester's life in the balance.
A Time for War
By San Antonio Rose
Prologue
Maxwell’s Silver Hammer
July 8, 2006
Manning, Colorado
Gordon Walker lowered his machete with a satisfied huff. Killing vampires never got old, especially when they’d just killed an old mentor of his. He wouldn’t have called his relationship with Daniel Elkins close-Elkins didn’t have friends, and neither did Gordon-but they’d been colleagues and had long pursued the same goal, and Gordon had learned a lot from the old man. Elkins had even called Gordon in to keep a closer eye on the area after John Winchester had gone off the rails at the end of March and committed suicide by cop. Gordon hadn’t understood half of Elkins’ ravings about Winchester’s kids paying him a visit shortly before Christmas, but Elkins’ larger point had been that Winchester’s death meant that something big was in the wind, and Gordon had understood and agreed with that.
Avenging Elkins’ death was only added incentive, however. Gordon would have iced this nest regardless. Killing monsters gave him a thrill like nothing else could.
After catching his breath, Gordon bent to pick up the antique gun the lead vamp had threatened him with, one the vamps had evidently stolen from Elkins. It was an early Colt revolver, he saw, probably 1835 or 1836 given the octagonal barrel and the way the trigger recessed into the handle when the hammer was forward. He carried it over to one of the barn’s hanging lamps; in the better light, he could make out the pentagrams carved on the grips and the words “non timebo mala” engraved on the top of the barrel.
His heart raced all the more. This was the Colt, the legendary gun said to kill anything. Short of the Holy Grail and the Holy Lance, the Colt was the most sought-after treasure in the American hunting community-and Elkins had had it all this time. It still had five bullets in the cylinder, too.
Well. Gordon didn’t know whether Elkins had left a will, but finders, keepers. The Colt was his now, and he wouldn’t be parting with it.
No sooner had he thought that than a blonde in a red vinyl jacket strolled into the barn with five men trailing her. “Well,” she said. “Looks like I missed one hell of a party.”
“Something I can do for you, miss?” Gordon asked coldly.
“You sure can. Just let me have that gun.”
“Why?”
“Oh, no special reason. It’s just that my father needs it.”
“What’s he need it for?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“It damn well is my concern. I don’t lend my weapons to just anyone.”
She laughed. “But I’m not just anyone.”
“Who are you, then?”
“Name’s Meg.”
“Not good enough.”
“For you, it is.”
“Go to hell.”
“No.” Meg’s eyes flashed black, and Gordon flew across the room and slammed into a post, the impact forcing him to drop the Colt. A split second later, she was standing in front of him, knife in one hand and a stone bowl in the other. “You go to hell.” And before he could come up with a retort, she slit his throat.
“You sure that was smart?” one of the other demons asked as the being currently known as Meg gathered Gordon’s blood in the bowl.
“’Course it was.” Having gotten what she needed, Meg ditched the knife and the corpse, collected the gun, and moved back toward the center of the room. “This many beheadings, nobody’s going to look twice at Walker; cops’ll just think the killer didn’t bother with taking his head all the way off.” With that, she uttered the spell to call Azazel.
That was fast! Azazel answered. You got the Colt?
“I sure did, Father,” she replied. “Vampires had it, just like you thought. Got here just in time to stop Walker from walking off with it.”
You sure it’s the real thing?
“Lemme check.” She aimed the Colt at one of her subordinates and fired. Sure enough, he lit up with hellfire inside and fell dead. “It works,” she reported.
Good. Good. Azazel paused. Still no sign of Sam Winchester?
“No, sir. Anything on your end?”
No. Zola’s being less than helpful, and Lucrezia won’t say anything at all. Sinclair’s story doesn’t make any sense, either-I thought Abaddon killed Henry Winchester, and none of our scouts have reported otherwise.
“And John?”
Nothing. He’s not down here, and Uriel can’t find him, either.
Meg blew the air out of her borrowed cheeks. “What should we do, then? Go ahead with the hits on Jim Murphy and Caleb Hamilton?”
No, no, there’d be no point in that now that we have the Colt. Even if John is still alive, chances are killing Murphy and Hamilton would only draw him out, not his boys. Azazel paused again. We’ll just have to find a way around the Winchesters. I’m still not completely convinced Sam’s the right kid anyway. Go ahead and round up the rest of them.
“Wait-all the Special Children?”
All the first generation, yes.
“But I thought....”
Change of plans. That many disappearances should get the Winchesters’ attention. Even if it doesn’t, the fact that they’ve gone to ground means they probably know something they shouldn’t know yet about our plans. Do take care of things on Mary’s end just in case-we can’t risk them learning any more.
“Just her uncles, or the rest of the family as well?”
Just the uncles, I think; not likely she would have told any of the other Campbells what happened to her parents. Tie up any loose ends among her friends in Lawrence, too.
“Yes, sir.”
The faster we move, the less likely it is that they’ll be able to stop us before Lord Lucifer returns. Uriel won’t be happy we’ve stepped up the timetable, but I don’t think we have much choice.
She nodded slowly. “All right, Father. I’ll get right on it.”
Good girl. I know you won’t fail me. And Azazel ended the call.
As she took a deep breath and let it out again, her brother Tom walked over to her. “He wants ’em all in Cold Oak at once?”
“Yeeep.” She handed him the blood phone. “Get on the horn. We’ve got a long night ahead.”
Next
Summary: From Cold Oak to Sunrise, Phase 3 of the Stanford Adventure Club's plan to save Sam Winchester leads through ghost towns and demon fire to the very gates of Hell. But despite their triumphs, Zantabraxus warns that the war's not over yet, and soon the club has a new and deadlier mission--with John Winchester's life in the balance.
A Time for War
By San Antonio Rose
Prologue
Maxwell’s Silver Hammer
July 8, 2006
Manning, Colorado
Gordon Walker lowered his machete with a satisfied huff. Killing vampires never got old, especially when they’d just killed an old mentor of his. He wouldn’t have called his relationship with Daniel Elkins close-Elkins didn’t have friends, and neither did Gordon-but they’d been colleagues and had long pursued the same goal, and Gordon had learned a lot from the old man. Elkins had even called Gordon in to keep a closer eye on the area after John Winchester had gone off the rails at the end of March and committed suicide by cop. Gordon hadn’t understood half of Elkins’ ravings about Winchester’s kids paying him a visit shortly before Christmas, but Elkins’ larger point had been that Winchester’s death meant that something big was in the wind, and Gordon had understood and agreed with that.
Avenging Elkins’ death was only added incentive, however. Gordon would have iced this nest regardless. Killing monsters gave him a thrill like nothing else could.
After catching his breath, Gordon bent to pick up the antique gun the lead vamp had threatened him with, one the vamps had evidently stolen from Elkins. It was an early Colt revolver, he saw, probably 1835 or 1836 given the octagonal barrel and the way the trigger recessed into the handle when the hammer was forward. He carried it over to one of the barn’s hanging lamps; in the better light, he could make out the pentagrams carved on the grips and the words “non timebo mala” engraved on the top of the barrel.
His heart raced all the more. This was the Colt, the legendary gun said to kill anything. Short of the Holy Grail and the Holy Lance, the Colt was the most sought-after treasure in the American hunting community-and Elkins had had it all this time. It still had five bullets in the cylinder, too.
Well. Gordon didn’t know whether Elkins had left a will, but finders, keepers. The Colt was his now, and he wouldn’t be parting with it.
No sooner had he thought that than a blonde in a red vinyl jacket strolled into the barn with five men trailing her. “Well,” she said. “Looks like I missed one hell of a party.”
“Something I can do for you, miss?” Gordon asked coldly.
“You sure can. Just let me have that gun.”
“Why?”
“Oh, no special reason. It’s just that my father needs it.”
“What’s he need it for?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“It damn well is my concern. I don’t lend my weapons to just anyone.”
She laughed. “But I’m not just anyone.”
“Who are you, then?”
“Name’s Meg.”
“Not good enough.”
“For you, it is.”
“Go to hell.”
“No.” Meg’s eyes flashed black, and Gordon flew across the room and slammed into a post, the impact forcing him to drop the Colt. A split second later, she was standing in front of him, knife in one hand and a stone bowl in the other. “You go to hell.” And before he could come up with a retort, she slit his throat.
“You sure that was smart?” one of the other demons asked as the being currently known as Meg gathered Gordon’s blood in the bowl.
“’Course it was.” Having gotten what she needed, Meg ditched the knife and the corpse, collected the gun, and moved back toward the center of the room. “This many beheadings, nobody’s going to look twice at Walker; cops’ll just think the killer didn’t bother with taking his head all the way off.” With that, she uttered the spell to call Azazel.
That was fast! Azazel answered. You got the Colt?
“I sure did, Father,” she replied. “Vampires had it, just like you thought. Got here just in time to stop Walker from walking off with it.”
You sure it’s the real thing?
“Lemme check.” She aimed the Colt at one of her subordinates and fired. Sure enough, he lit up with hellfire inside and fell dead. “It works,” she reported.
Good. Good. Azazel paused. Still no sign of Sam Winchester?
“No, sir. Anything on your end?”
No. Zola’s being less than helpful, and Lucrezia won’t say anything at all. Sinclair’s story doesn’t make any sense, either-I thought Abaddon killed Henry Winchester, and none of our scouts have reported otherwise.
“And John?”
Nothing. He’s not down here, and Uriel can’t find him, either.
Meg blew the air out of her borrowed cheeks. “What should we do, then? Go ahead with the hits on Jim Murphy and Caleb Hamilton?”
No, no, there’d be no point in that now that we have the Colt. Even if John is still alive, chances are killing Murphy and Hamilton would only draw him out, not his boys. Azazel paused again. We’ll just have to find a way around the Winchesters. I’m still not completely convinced Sam’s the right kid anyway. Go ahead and round up the rest of them.
“Wait-all the Special Children?”
All the first generation, yes.
“But I thought....”
Change of plans. That many disappearances should get the Winchesters’ attention. Even if it doesn’t, the fact that they’ve gone to ground means they probably know something they shouldn’t know yet about our plans. Do take care of things on Mary’s end just in case-we can’t risk them learning any more.
“Just her uncles, or the rest of the family as well?”
Just the uncles, I think; not likely she would have told any of the other Campbells what happened to her parents. Tie up any loose ends among her friends in Lawrence, too.
“Yes, sir.”
The faster we move, the less likely it is that they’ll be able to stop us before Lord Lucifer returns. Uriel won’t be happy we’ve stepped up the timetable, but I don’t think we have much choice.
She nodded slowly. “All right, Father. I’ll get right on it.”
Good girl. I know you won’t fail me. And Azazel ended the call.
As she took a deep breath and let it out again, her brother Tom walked over to her. “He wants ’em all in Cold Oak at once?”
“Yeeep.” She handed him the blood phone. “Get on the horn. We’ve got a long night ahead.”
Next