A Time for War 2/7
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Chapter 1
Too Quiet
July 10, 2006
Lebanon, Kansas
John Winchester was going stir crazy.
Being cooped up in the Men of Letters bunker was better than prison or Hell. He had to keep reminding himself of that. And prison or Hell was where he’d be right now were it not for Zantabraxus and the fae changeling she’d created to fake his death. After his own pigheadedness had allowed Lucrezia Mongfish to frame him for three murders she’d committed while possessing him, he’d have been lucky to get off with a life sentence. More likely, she would have found a way to force him to trade his life for his sons’ lives. He owed his life, their lives, and Mary’s resurrected life to the Warrior Queen, which did entitle her to impose a taboo on him. Hell, Zantabraxus would have been well within her rights to cart him off to Fairyland for the rest of time and never let him see his family again, but she hadn’t done that, either. All things considered, she’d been downright merciful.
He just... wished she’d chosen something other than keeping him on a short leash like this.
Maybe, after ditching Klaus Wulfenbach as his hunting partner and disappearing on the kids, he’d gotten too used to being alone for life in an underground building with ten other humans, a fae queen, and a lobster to be comfortable. Maybe he’d been hunting too long for confinement to quarters to be bearable. It just galled him to be stuck here, doing nothing but research, even referring the few hunts that crossed his radar to other hunters. (The worst had been the time Sam had had a dream-vision about one of the kids John had been tracking, Max Miller. Zeetha and Jess had practically threatened to hogtie Sam to keep him from taking the case over Dean’s objections, and Dean and Mary had made the same threat to John. Theo and Sleipnir DuMedd had volunteered to take the case instead and barely escaped with their lives, but they hadn’t been able to stop Max from committing suicide.) The fact that all the kids, including Sam and Dean, called Pops “Henry” and Her Majesty “Zanta” but John and Mary remained “Mr. and Mrs. Winchester” to all but their own four didn’t help. Plus, John kept getting into fights, mostly with Sam, sometimes with Mary or Pops-but even Dean was showing an attitude John neither understood nor liked.
Okay, so maybe the Lucrezia fiasco did give the Adventure Club due cause to question John’s fitness to command, and maybe he didn’t have any right to pull rank on anyone but his own sons. Maybe they did know a hell of a lot more about what was going on than John did now. And the kids, with the occasional exception of Sam, did show him due deference as their elder and as Sam and Dean’s father, even though they shut him out of most of the decision-making. It still rankled, and there was no escaping it because his life was forfeit if he left the bunker without Zantabraxus or one of the kids.
This particular morning, John had woken early from a nightmare and not been able to get back to sleep, so he was still lying in bed and stewing when Mary rolled over and kissed his cheek. “Morning, sunshine,” she teased.
He grumbled.
“That good, huh?” When he glared at her, she chuckled. “Van should have the coffee ready by now, and I think Jess volunteered to cook breakfast.”
“Was that a hint?”
“It was.”
He sighed. “All right, I’ll make an effort.”
“Thank you.” She kissed his cheek again and got up, leaving him to follow suit.
Once they were both dressed enough not to embarrass anyone, they made their way to the kitchen, where Van von Mekkhan was just pouring up two mugs of coffee at once. “Good morning!” he called as they walked in. “You’re just in time.”
“In time for what?” John asked. “Don’t smell breakfast.”
Van grimaced. “It’s been delayed, sorry. Dean got a text from Tarvek, asking for a video meeting in five minutes. Theo said he’d go get doughnuts afterward.”
John grunted his understanding and nodded his thanks as Van handed him one mug.
“Any idea what it’s about?” Mary asked, accepting the other mug.
Van shook his head. “Dean just said it sounded urgent.”
There were voices in the hall just then, but John didn’t catch anything they said until Ardsley Wooster stated, “I’ll just see if Van-oh, here they are!” and came into the kitchen. “Good morning, Mrs. Winchester, Mr. Winchester. Van, did you-”
“Just did,” Van confirmed and turned back to the counter to collect his own coffee.
“Perfect. Tarvek’s just remembered he hadn’t asked for you to join us but should have,” Ardsley told Mary apologetically.
John frowned slightly. “Both of us, or just Mary?”
“Both of you, I believe, sir.”
John nodded once and took a long drink of coffee. Damn kids had been limiting his booze consumption, too, to keep him from wandering into a dangerous part of the bunker or leaving before they could stop him. But one thing he had to say for Van: the boy could make a damn good cup of coffee.
“Well, at least we have time to get caffeinated and coherent,” Mary said with a chuckle and took a drink from her own mug.
“Sleipnir should have chairs set up,” Van noted.
“Right,” Ardsley agreed. “Ma’am, sir, if you would?”
They nodded and followed him out to the command center, with Van bringing up the rear. Sure enough, Sleipnir and Jess were arranging the last of a group of chairs in front of the video conferencing screens while Sam and Pops were doing something on the desktop computer, and Dean, Zeetha, Zantabraxus, and Theo were chatting quietly in the library.
“One-minute warning,” Sam called over his shoulder.
Ardsley motioned for John and Mary to follow him into the second row of seats; he sat at the right end, John and Mary in the middle, and Van at the left end. Dean, Zeetha, and Pops sat down on the front row, leaving a seat for Sam, and everyone else presumably filled in on the back row.
“And we’re live,” Sam announced and backed away to sit down as the screen displaying Mansion is offline switched to a feed of a study John had yet to see in person.
“Good morning, Kansas,” Tarvek Murphy called and walked into frame.
“Mornin’,” Dean called back. “Just you this mornin’?”
Tarvek nodded. “Yes, I’ve already told Colette and Violetta, and I’ll tell Gil and Agatha over breakfast. And with Jo still gone, Ash has been working the late shift at the Roadhouse, so I decided to let him sleep. Doesn’t concern him anyway, at least not directly.”
“Where is Jo, anyway?”
“Supposedly, she’s at college taking summer classes, but Ash dropped some hints the other day that she’s actually off hunting somewhere and doesn’t want Ellen to know.”
John grimaced at that. Jo Harvelle seemed as anxious to get into hunting as Sam had always been to get out of it, and her mother Ellen was trying as hard to keep Jo in school as John would have tried to keep Sam out had Gil Wulfenbach and the Adventure Club not been at Stanford already. Frankly, though, John was on Ellen’s side. Jo might be wanting to follow in her father’s footsteps, but hunting was no business for a bright young lady like her, especially without a curse hanging over her like the one that dogged the Winchesters.
Pops cleared his throat. “You said you had news, Tarvek?”
Tarvek nodded. “Yeah. I went outside first thing to check messages on my phone, and while I was out there, Gwen Campbell called me.”
Mary startled. “Gwen? You-you don’t mean-”
“I do. We met her in Lansing last fall; we’d raided the family archive for some information, and she and Mark had some questions for us.”
“Gracious.” Mary laughed once and shook her head. “I haven’t seen Gwen since she was born, and poor little Mark... does he talk at all now?”
“When he feels like it. And he’s not so little.”
“I can imagine.”
“I didn’t tell her you’re back, by the way. I figured the fewer people who know that, the better.”
“Thanks.” Mary took a deep breath. “So what did Gwen have to say?”
Tarvek’s expression, already fairly sober, turned downright grave. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Mrs. Winchester, but... your uncles Ed and Robert both died within the last thirty-six hours.”
Mary gasped, and John put an arm around her shoulders. “No,” she breathed. “What... how....”
“Gwen said the official cause of death for both of them is a heart attack.”
“But that’s impossible!” Sam objected. “Robert was a cardiac surgeon-”
“Wait, wait, Sam,” Mary interrupted. “When the demon killed Dad-my dad-the family pulled strings and had the cause of death listed as a heart attack.”
John frowned. “You think it was demons?”
“Gwen did,” Tarvek answered before Mary could. “And there’s more. She said there’s been a rash of sudden deaths in and around Lawrence in the same time period: house fires, car crashes, you name it. She didn’t recognize all the names, but the ones she did recognize had one thing in common.”
“They knew me,” Mary surmised quietly. “The demon’s killing off anyone who could have known about my deal.”
Tarvek nodded. “That’s what it looks like.”
“What for?” Dean asked. “We already know all about the deal.”
“But Azazel does not know that,” Zantabraxus pointed out. “Nor can he know what Lucrezia revealed to us about the Apocalypse plan before she was exorcised. He knows only that his traps have failed thus far in their aim and that Sam remains hidden. These deaths are his only means of ensuring that you cannot learn what those people might have known.”
Tarvek nodded. “That’s what I told Gwen. She promised she’d have the rest of the family go into lockdown mode-not that I think that’s likely to help much if their boltholes don’t have better security than their archive.”
“I beg your pardon?!” Mary protested.
Zeetha turned around. “They’re up against a Prince of Hell, not just ordinary stunt demons. Didn’t you tell us your father didn’t believe a yellow-eyed demon could exist until you tried to stop the deal with Liddy Walsh?”
Mary wilted a little and leaned against John. “That’s true. He didn’t.”
“I did give her the information we had on Azazel,” Tarvek reported, “including ways to strengthen the wards against him. She thanked me, but... I don’t know if they’ll act on it.”
“That’s their problem, not yours,” Pops replied.
John nodded. “Yeah. You’ve done all you can, Tarvek. Thanks. We’ll see if we can get more info on the demons from here.”
“Yes, sir,” Tarvek acknowledged. “I’m very sorry for your losses, Mrs. Winchester.”
Mary nodded and sniffled. “Thank you. I... I appreciate your calling this way.”
“We’ll let you know if we find anything,” Dean added.
“Likewise,” Tarvek said. “Anything else?”
“Nah. No news here.”
“In that case, I’d better go ahead and sign off. Violetta’s making French toast.”
John felt a pang at that, but he wasn’t sure whether it was jealousy that Tarvek’s cousin by blood and sister by adoption got to visit the mysterious mansion in its undisclosed location and he didn’t or bemusement at the idea of a girl who’d spent her formative years being trained to kill by Aaron Sturmvoraus and his mob now doing anything so domestic as cooking.
“All right, dude,” Dean said and stood. “Later.”
“À bientôt.” Tarvek walked out of frame at the same time Dean walked over to the computer, and the feed ended.
“We’re off,” Dean announced a moment later.
Van, Ardsley, the DuMedds, and Zantabraxus tactfully made themselves scarce as John set his and Mary’s mugs on the floor and then turned and pulled her into a full hug. His own heart was pounding with rage-if the demons were killing everyone who’d ever known Mary, that probably included his own friends like Mike and Kate Guenther-but as Mary shuddered and cried on his shoulder, he realized that he didn’t need a fairy bond to tie him down. Here and now, his wife was alive and needed him.
They had their family, too, he realized as Sam, Zeetha, and Pops turned their chairs around and a soft rolling noise from behind hinted that Jess had rolled her chair forward. As for Dean, he came around to slide into the seat Ardsley had vacated.
“So many...” Mary sobbed. “So many....”
“It’s not your fault, Mar,” John stated.
“But it is. If I hadn’t taken the deal....”
“Mom,” Dean interrupted, putting a hand on her shoulder. “This whole thing is bigger than us. And you had no way of knowin’ this would happen.”
“None of us did,” Pops agreed. “If we had, we’d have tried to warn people when we were there in March, or had Missouri do it. It’s too late for that now. But I think we can all agree on one thing.”
John nodded once. “This ends now.”
“Damn straight,” the boys and Zeetha chorused.
Mary sniffled and turned to hug Dean, who hugged her back as he always did, like she was some kind of porcelain doll, something rare and precious and fragile. Sam, on the other hand, hugged her with an expression that said he was ready to murder every demon who’d made her cry. Then she hugged Pops, Zeetha, and Jess in turn, and John gave her his handkerchief to wipe her face.
“Shall we go get some more coffee, Mary?” Jess offered.
Mary drew a ragged breath and nodded. The whole family stood up at the same time, and Zeetha picked up Mary’s mug as Sam and Pops moved out of the way.
Mary sniffled and turned to John. “I’ll come help with research in... as-as soon as-”
“Take your time, sweetheart,” John replied and kissed her temple. “We’ve got plenty of help.”
Mary nodded. “’Kay. Thanks.” Then she turned back and stepped into the side hug Zeetha was offering her, and together they started off toward the kitchen. Jess came around from the other side and fell into step with them, and John watched the three of them go, two blonde heads and one green, a mother taking comfort from her daughters-in-law.
Daughters-in-law. Plural. Three months and change, and John still wasn’t used to it. Sometimes, despite having known and worked with Zeetha for four years, he still had trouble remembering Dean was a married man; but he’d thought Sam’s introduction of Jess as his wife had been an April Fool’s joke until Pops had shown him the marriage certificate. He didn’t know why it was so hard to get his head around the fact that there were seven Winchesters now, not just three, but there it was.
“I’ll go get your laptop, Dad,” Sam volunteered and jogged off toward the bedrooms before John could do more than grimace. John understood why the kids had insisted on giving him that thing-it was easier to do his own research that way, and Ash had even put programs on it for tracking both Azazel and the other kids like Sam-but computers were still the bane of his existence, and getting tutorials on Internet research from Pops, of all people, had only added insult to injury.
Dean, meanwhile, pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call Bobby, see if he can pin down any omen patterns. Might help us head the demons off at the pass.”
Pops nodded. “I can-”
“Dean!” Ardsley suddenly called from the library.
“What?” Dean asked and dashed through the doorway to where Ardsley and Van were sitting at the first library table, Pops and John hard on his heels. “Whatcha got?”
“News article from Colorado Springs,” Ardsley replied and tilted the screen of his laptop back to let the Winchesters read the headline: Mass Murder in Manning: Barn found littered with beheaded corpses, police suspect occult ceremony gone wrong.
“Vamps?”
“That’s what it looks like, but it’s worse than the headline suggests.”
“Move,” John ordered, and Ardsley got up to let him sit down and read the article for himself while Dean and Pops read over his shoulder. The fact that the dead vampires had been left for the police to find was partially accounted for by the appearance of Gordon Walker’s name in the list of identified victims, although that didn’t explain who’d killed him or why one and only one of the victims had been shot rather than beheaded. But then John got to a paragraph that made his blood run cold:
The incident comes just one day after the murder of Manning resident Daniel Elkins, who was discovered dead in his home following an apparent burglary. Elkins’ safe was found standing open, but police have not yet found an inventory of the safe among his papers. The only thing of value known to have been stolen was an antique pistol....
He swore. “The Colt. They’ve got the Colt. Elkins had it this whole damn time, and now....” He swore again, more violently.
“John,” Pops began.
John rounded on him. “Pops, that gun’s the only weapon that can kill Azazel. I’ve been trying to get hold of it for months, and now-”
“Dad,” Dean interrupted firmly. “It’s fake.”
“The hell do you mean, it’s fake?”
“The gun that got stolen. It’s not the real Colt.”
John blinked rapidly. “What?”
“It’s true, John,” Pops said. “The one they stole is a close copy, close enough to fool almost anyone but us. Her Majesty charmed it to be able to kill average monsters and demons, and Zeetha altered its appearance to match the real one.”
Dean nodded. “We swapped ’em out in December. Elkins never knew the difference.”
John wished he’d had more coffee. “So you’re saying....”
“We’ve got the real one. Four bullets left. It’s at the mansion, in the safe.”
John groaned and ran both hands over his face. “And I’da known that if I’d returned your call back then.”
Pops patted his shoulder. “Well, look on the bright side. Whoever has the fake Colt now can’t possibly know that we have the real one. If they want it for protection, it should still work, but if they want it for nefarious purposes, it won’t.”
John nodded slowly as he thought back over the description of the crime scene in the news report. “Might explain why one victim was shot-trial run. Question is, was he a vamp, or....”
“I’ll get the police reports and the coroner’s reports,” Van said, already typing on his own computer. “Those should have more details about the crime scenes and the victims.”
“Look for any mention of sulfur,” Pops suggested. “I have a hunch.”
“You’re thinkin’ demons?” Dean asked as John stood to let Ardsley have his seat and computer back.
Pops nodded. “The timing is too close to be wholly coincidental. First Elkins dies and the fake Colt is stolen. Then the beheadings, then the assault on people who knew Mary. My question is why.”
John hummed thoughtfully. “Walker was a vamp specialist like Elkins. Could be the vamps killed Elkins and Walker killed the vamps.”
“And the demons killed Walker and stole the fake Colt?” Dean suggested.
“Could be.”
“So what’s so important about the Colt that they would go into high gear like this as soon as they got it?”
“That’s the $64,000 question.”
“There might be something in Colt’s journal,” said Pops. “Is that microfilm still here?”
“Colette took it to the mansion,” Ardsley piped up. “Since we weren’t using it and don’t have a microfilm machine that we’ve found yet, she thought it should stay with the Colt.”
That threw John off balance again. “What... microfilm?”
Dean nodded. “That’s what they were doin’ in Michigan.”
“Here you go, Dad,” Sam called before John could ask any more questions. “Getting anywhere, guys?”
“Maybe,” Van replied. “I need some help getting into this system, though.”
Sam set John’s laptop on the other end of the library table and went around to look at what Van was doing.
“I’ll email Tarvek,” Pops said. “You go ahead and call Bobby.”
“Right,” Dean agreed, and the two of them walked back out to the command center.
With a huff, John sat down and turned on his computer. It had just finished booting up when Zeetha brought him a fresh cup of coffee and a doughnut, which improved his mood slightly. He stared at the screen while he ate and considered his research strategy, then opened the Azazel-tracking program. He was disappointed but not surprised when the program found no new updates to offer. Then, mostly out of habit, he pulled up the other tracking program.
And dozens of updates rolled in-almost all of them Missing Persons reports.
“What the...” John murmured and started reading through them.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been at it when a hand landed on his shoulder, startling him. “Got something, honey?” Mary asked hoarsely.
“Maybe,” he answered.
She sat down beside him and set up her own computer. “Something I can help with?”
“Yeah. Need Missing Persons, APBs, and BOLOs for kids Sam’s age.”
“Last thirty-six hours?”
“Make it forty-eight, just to be safe.”
“Right.”
“I thought the tracking program pulled those records automatically,” Theo said, sitting down at the other table.
“It does,” John replied, “but only for the kids I know of to track. May be some I haven’t found yet for some reason.”
“So why are you widening the net?”
John looked up at him. “Every one of the kids I’ve tracked has disappeared in the last two days.”
“Are you serious?” Sam and Dean chorused and came over to see.
“Every last one.”
Dean swore. “Sammy-”
“Don’t say it, Dean,” Sam interrupted, and John thought he heard a faint tremor in Sam’s voice. “I know.”
There was a pause before Sleipnir said, “Sure and they can’t all be like the Miller lad.”
“No, but what are the odds any of them even know that demons are real?”
“Slim to none,” Ardsley and Van chorused.
Dean sighed. “Bobby said he’d call back when he had somethin’. Maybe that’ll tell us where the other kids disappeared to. Nothin’ much we can do until then.”
“Not on that score,” Pops agreed. “What have you found so far, Van?”
“Enough to support your hunch,” Van replied. “Judging from the crime scene reports, Elkins had laid salt lines, but whatever killed him crossed those lines and tore out his throat. That’s consistent with a vampire attack.”
Theo frowned. “How do you know? I mean, I know you’re from Transylvania, but I thought Dracula was a myth.”
“As envisioned by Bram Stoker and Hollywood, yes. No one’s really sure what happened to Prince Vlad Tepes; his grave has never been found, but that isn’t proof that he was a vampire. But there... is a nosferatu in Mekkhan. Ht’rok-din cel Negru, he’s always called, the Black Heterodyne. He’s sealed in the family crypt beneath the temple.”
“Sealed?” Mary echoed. “As in buried alive?!”
Van shrugged with an apologetic grimace. “Well, buried undead. Supposedly there’s a way for him to keep from starving in there, but I’ve never asked my father what it is. We all learn the signs of a vampire attack, though, just in case he ever breaks out again.”
“Wouldn’t it be kinder to just kill him?”
“One doesn’t kill the Masters. Especially when they’re already dead. The goddess won’t hear of it.”
Dean cleared his throat. “So you were saying about Elkins?”
“Yes, sorry.” Van coughed. “From the photos and the fingerprint evidence, it looks like Elkins had gotten the ersatz Colt out of the safe himself but never fired it, so probably the vampire took it after killing Elkins, and possibly other valuables as well. The police did find a cache of money and silver in the barn, but there’s no indication here of where those things might have come from. There were no traces of sulfur found at Elkins’ house, but there were traces in the barn, particularly around the gunshot victim and on the pillar behind Walker’s body. The police also found a machete with blood from the beheading victims on it and a knife and stone bowl with Walker’s blood on them.”
“That explains the subhead speculating about an occult ritual,” Pops observed. “There was blood magic used, just not of a type the police would recognize.”
“There was?” Jess asked, confused.
“Demons use a bowl or chalice of blood to communicate over long distances.”
“So lemme get this straight,” Dean said. “Vamps kill Elkins; Walker kills the vamps; demon kills Walker and tests the fake Colt on... what, another demon?”
“Sounds like a good guess,” John agreed. “Uses Walker’s blood to call Azazel; Azazel tells ’em to move fast.”
“But we still don’t know why or where the kidnap victims are.”
“Right. We’ll have to see what Bobby-” John was interrupted by Dean’s phone ringing.
“Speak o’ the devil,” Dean quipped, pushed two buttons on his phone, and set it on the table. “Hey, Bobby, you’re on speaker.”
“Mornin’, all,” Bobby said. “Well, Dean, I got an answer for ya, but you ain’t gonna like it.”
“Why? What’s the word?”
“The word is bupkis.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Couple cattle mutilations around Lawrence yesterday, like you figured, but since midnight? Nada. Not a single thing in the entire Continental US.”
Everyone in the room-which John could now see was everyone but Zantabraxus, and he felt silly for not having noticed when everyone else came in-exchanged looks of surprise.
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Mary said. “We’ve found dozens of disappearances. Surely there must be something!”
“You would think,” Bobby agreed. “But there ain’t. Ain’t never seen it this quiet. Tells me somethin’s in the wind.”
“Yeah, but what?” Theo asked.
“I don’t have a damn clue, but-”
Sam suddenly cried out and collapsed to his knees, clutching his head.
“Sammy?!” Dean yelped and knelt next to him as Jess ran around the table to his side.
But Sam didn’t seem to notice; his eyes were screwed shut, and his breath was coming in short, harsh pants. “Wha... who’s...” he gasped. “Yes... yes, I-ah! ... Ye-... how ma-... okay... okay... we’ll be... eight hours... yes....” Then he sighed in relief and sagged against Jess with a groan.
“You all right, Sammy?” Dean asked.
“Ye-... no,” Sam wheezed.
Jess rubbed his back. “What did you see? Who were you talking to?”
“Name’s Andy... Andy Gallagher. He’s... he’s like me.”
Mary looked at John, who nodded.
“Can send visions,” Sam went on. “Just found out. Called for help. All the ki-... kidnap vics... they’re in Cold Oak.”
Bobby swore. “Cold Oak, South Dakota? You sure?”
Sam nodded. “Saw the bell.”
“How many vics we talkin’?”
“Fifty, sixty... wasn’ sure. Couple are al-... already dead. ’Zazel said... wants ’em to fi-... fight to the death. Las’ survivor... gets to leave.”
“Sounds like we need all hands on deck,” said Pops.
“I agree,” said Zantabraxus, walking in from who knew where. “I must remain hidden, but I will help you plan your assault before you go.”
“Any families we need to protect, John?” Bobby asked.
“Just one that I know of,” John replied. “Last name is Talley.” With a click, he pulled up the address and read it off.
“Got it. I’ll send Rufus.”
“Have him bring the mother and sister to Cold Oak,” Zantabraxus ordered. “They will be needed there.”
Bobby hesitated a second but replied, “Yes, ma’am.”
“I will send word to Klaus and Gilgamesh.”
“Yes, ma’am. Only other hunter I can get on notice this short is Ellen Harvelle. Jim’s off on a mission trip this week, an’ Caleb’s tied up with a djinn.”
“That will suffice.”
“Yes, ma’am. See y’all tonight.” And Bobby hung up.
Theo stood. “So you want all of us?”
“Yeah,” Dean said. “Like Henry said, all hands on deck.”
“We’d best arm up, then,” Ardsley said, and most of the kids left.
“What about me?” Jess asked. “Zeetha’s been training me, but....”
Zantabraxus bent down to put a hand on Sam’s head, and his breathing eased. “You should go,” she told Jess, “but you need not fight. Those who accept help will need charms against possession and hex bags for protection.”
Jess nodded eagerly. “I can make those, sure.”
“Our car’s warded,” Zeetha noted. “But how do we make sure the demons don’t come along and flip it?”
“You will establish a defensive perimeter before entering the town,” Zantabraxus replied. “It will require the power of nine souls, bound by blood and by love.”
“Lemme guess,” Sam said, sitting up. “Six Winchesters and three Wulfenbachs.”
Zantabraxus smiled. “You are wise, my champion.”
Mary gasped. “Six-but if Jess stays in the car-”
Dean chuckled, stood, and clapped John on the shoulder. “Guess this means you and Mom are off the bricks, Dad.”
“I guess so,” John replied, not at all sure this was the kind of action he’d been itching for.
Next
* So long
Chapter 1
Too Quiet
July 10, 2006
Lebanon, Kansas
John Winchester was going stir crazy.
Being cooped up in the Men of Letters bunker was better than prison or Hell. He had to keep reminding himself of that. And prison or Hell was where he’d be right now were it not for Zantabraxus and the fae changeling she’d created to fake his death. After his own pigheadedness had allowed Lucrezia Mongfish to frame him for three murders she’d committed while possessing him, he’d have been lucky to get off with a life sentence. More likely, she would have found a way to force him to trade his life for his sons’ lives. He owed his life, their lives, and Mary’s resurrected life to the Warrior Queen, which did entitle her to impose a taboo on him. Hell, Zantabraxus would have been well within her rights to cart him off to Fairyland for the rest of time and never let him see his family again, but she hadn’t done that, either. All things considered, she’d been downright merciful.
He just... wished she’d chosen something other than keeping him on a short leash like this.
Maybe, after ditching Klaus Wulfenbach as his hunting partner and disappearing on the kids, he’d gotten too used to being alone for life in an underground building with ten other humans, a fae queen, and a lobster to be comfortable. Maybe he’d been hunting too long for confinement to quarters to be bearable. It just galled him to be stuck here, doing nothing but research, even referring the few hunts that crossed his radar to other hunters. (The worst had been the time Sam had had a dream-vision about one of the kids John had been tracking, Max Miller. Zeetha and Jess had practically threatened to hogtie Sam to keep him from taking the case over Dean’s objections, and Dean and Mary had made the same threat to John. Theo and Sleipnir DuMedd had volunteered to take the case instead and barely escaped with their lives, but they hadn’t been able to stop Max from committing suicide.) The fact that all the kids, including Sam and Dean, called Pops “Henry” and Her Majesty “Zanta” but John and Mary remained “Mr. and Mrs. Winchester” to all but their own four didn’t help. Plus, John kept getting into fights, mostly with Sam, sometimes with Mary or Pops-but even Dean was showing an attitude John neither understood nor liked.
Okay, so maybe the Lucrezia fiasco did give the Adventure Club due cause to question John’s fitness to command, and maybe he didn’t have any right to pull rank on anyone but his own sons. Maybe they did know a hell of a lot more about what was going on than John did now. And the kids, with the occasional exception of Sam, did show him due deference as their elder and as Sam and Dean’s father, even though they shut him out of most of the decision-making. It still rankled, and there was no escaping it because his life was forfeit if he left the bunker without Zantabraxus or one of the kids.
This particular morning, John had woken early from a nightmare and not been able to get back to sleep, so he was still lying in bed and stewing when Mary rolled over and kissed his cheek. “Morning, sunshine,” she teased.
He grumbled.
“That good, huh?” When he glared at her, she chuckled. “Van should have the coffee ready by now, and I think Jess volunteered to cook breakfast.”
“Was that a hint?”
“It was.”
He sighed. “All right, I’ll make an effort.”
“Thank you.” She kissed his cheek again and got up, leaving him to follow suit.
Once they were both dressed enough not to embarrass anyone, they made their way to the kitchen, where Van von Mekkhan was just pouring up two mugs of coffee at once. “Good morning!” he called as they walked in. “You’re just in time.”
“In time for what?” John asked. “Don’t smell breakfast.”
Van grimaced. “It’s been delayed, sorry. Dean got a text from Tarvek, asking for a video meeting in five minutes. Theo said he’d go get doughnuts afterward.”
John grunted his understanding and nodded his thanks as Van handed him one mug.
“Any idea what it’s about?” Mary asked, accepting the other mug.
Van shook his head. “Dean just said it sounded urgent.”
There were voices in the hall just then, but John didn’t catch anything they said until Ardsley Wooster stated, “I’ll just see if Van-oh, here they are!” and came into the kitchen. “Good morning, Mrs. Winchester, Mr. Winchester. Van, did you-”
“Just did,” Van confirmed and turned back to the counter to collect his own coffee.
“Perfect. Tarvek’s just remembered he hadn’t asked for you to join us but should have,” Ardsley told Mary apologetically.
John frowned slightly. “Both of us, or just Mary?”
“Both of you, I believe, sir.”
John nodded once and took a long drink of coffee. Damn kids had been limiting his booze consumption, too, to keep him from wandering into a dangerous part of the bunker or leaving before they could stop him. But one thing he had to say for Van: the boy could make a damn good cup of coffee.
“Well, at least we have time to get caffeinated and coherent,” Mary said with a chuckle and took a drink from her own mug.
“Sleipnir should have chairs set up,” Van noted.
“Right,” Ardsley agreed. “Ma’am, sir, if you would?”
They nodded and followed him out to the command center, with Van bringing up the rear. Sure enough, Sleipnir and Jess were arranging the last of a group of chairs in front of the video conferencing screens while Sam and Pops were doing something on the desktop computer, and Dean, Zeetha, Zantabraxus, and Theo were chatting quietly in the library.
“One-minute warning,” Sam called over his shoulder.
Ardsley motioned for John and Mary to follow him into the second row of seats; he sat at the right end, John and Mary in the middle, and Van at the left end. Dean, Zeetha, and Pops sat down on the front row, leaving a seat for Sam, and everyone else presumably filled in on the back row.
“And we’re live,” Sam announced and backed away to sit down as the screen displaying Mansion is offline switched to a feed of a study John had yet to see in person.
“Good morning, Kansas,” Tarvek Murphy called and walked into frame.
“Mornin’,” Dean called back. “Just you this mornin’?”
Tarvek nodded. “Yes, I’ve already told Colette and Violetta, and I’ll tell Gil and Agatha over breakfast. And with Jo still gone, Ash has been working the late shift at the Roadhouse, so I decided to let him sleep. Doesn’t concern him anyway, at least not directly.”
“Where is Jo, anyway?”
“Supposedly, she’s at college taking summer classes, but Ash dropped some hints the other day that she’s actually off hunting somewhere and doesn’t want Ellen to know.”
John grimaced at that. Jo Harvelle seemed as anxious to get into hunting as Sam had always been to get out of it, and her mother Ellen was trying as hard to keep Jo in school as John would have tried to keep Sam out had Gil Wulfenbach and the Adventure Club not been at Stanford already. Frankly, though, John was on Ellen’s side. Jo might be wanting to follow in her father’s footsteps, but hunting was no business for a bright young lady like her, especially without a curse hanging over her like the one that dogged the Winchesters.
Pops cleared his throat. “You said you had news, Tarvek?”
Tarvek nodded. “Yeah. I went outside first thing to check messages on my phone, and while I was out there, Gwen Campbell called me.”
Mary startled. “Gwen? You-you don’t mean-”
“I do. We met her in Lansing last fall; we’d raided the family archive for some information, and she and Mark had some questions for us.”
“Gracious.” Mary laughed once and shook her head. “I haven’t seen Gwen since she was born, and poor little Mark... does he talk at all now?”
“When he feels like it. And he’s not so little.”
“I can imagine.”
“I didn’t tell her you’re back, by the way. I figured the fewer people who know that, the better.”
“Thanks.” Mary took a deep breath. “So what did Gwen have to say?”
Tarvek’s expression, already fairly sober, turned downright grave. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Mrs. Winchester, but... your uncles Ed and Robert both died within the last thirty-six hours.”
Mary gasped, and John put an arm around her shoulders. “No,” she breathed. “What... how....”
“Gwen said the official cause of death for both of them is a heart attack.”
“But that’s impossible!” Sam objected. “Robert was a cardiac surgeon-”
“Wait, wait, Sam,” Mary interrupted. “When the demon killed Dad-my dad-the family pulled strings and had the cause of death listed as a heart attack.”
John frowned. “You think it was demons?”
“Gwen did,” Tarvek answered before Mary could. “And there’s more. She said there’s been a rash of sudden deaths in and around Lawrence in the same time period: house fires, car crashes, you name it. She didn’t recognize all the names, but the ones she did recognize had one thing in common.”
“They knew me,” Mary surmised quietly. “The demon’s killing off anyone who could have known about my deal.”
Tarvek nodded. “That’s what it looks like.”
“What for?” Dean asked. “We already know all about the deal.”
“But Azazel does not know that,” Zantabraxus pointed out. “Nor can he know what Lucrezia revealed to us about the Apocalypse plan before she was exorcised. He knows only that his traps have failed thus far in their aim and that Sam remains hidden. These deaths are his only means of ensuring that you cannot learn what those people might have known.”
Tarvek nodded. “That’s what I told Gwen. She promised she’d have the rest of the family go into lockdown mode-not that I think that’s likely to help much if their boltholes don’t have better security than their archive.”
“I beg your pardon?!” Mary protested.
Zeetha turned around. “They’re up against a Prince of Hell, not just ordinary stunt demons. Didn’t you tell us your father didn’t believe a yellow-eyed demon could exist until you tried to stop the deal with Liddy Walsh?”
Mary wilted a little and leaned against John. “That’s true. He didn’t.”
“I did give her the information we had on Azazel,” Tarvek reported, “including ways to strengthen the wards against him. She thanked me, but... I don’t know if they’ll act on it.”
“That’s their problem, not yours,” Pops replied.
John nodded. “Yeah. You’ve done all you can, Tarvek. Thanks. We’ll see if we can get more info on the demons from here.”
“Yes, sir,” Tarvek acknowledged. “I’m very sorry for your losses, Mrs. Winchester.”
Mary nodded and sniffled. “Thank you. I... I appreciate your calling this way.”
“We’ll let you know if we find anything,” Dean added.
“Likewise,” Tarvek said. “Anything else?”
“Nah. No news here.”
“In that case, I’d better go ahead and sign off. Violetta’s making French toast.”
John felt a pang at that, but he wasn’t sure whether it was jealousy that Tarvek’s cousin by blood and sister by adoption got to visit the mysterious mansion in its undisclosed location and he didn’t or bemusement at the idea of a girl who’d spent her formative years being trained to kill by Aaron Sturmvoraus and his mob now doing anything so domestic as cooking.
“All right, dude,” Dean said and stood. “Later.”
“À bientôt.” Tarvek walked out of frame at the same time Dean walked over to the computer, and the feed ended.
“We’re off,” Dean announced a moment later.
Van, Ardsley, the DuMedds, and Zantabraxus tactfully made themselves scarce as John set his and Mary’s mugs on the floor and then turned and pulled her into a full hug. His own heart was pounding with rage-if the demons were killing everyone who’d ever known Mary, that probably included his own friends like Mike and Kate Guenther-but as Mary shuddered and cried on his shoulder, he realized that he didn’t need a fairy bond to tie him down. Here and now, his wife was alive and needed him.
They had their family, too, he realized as Sam, Zeetha, and Pops turned their chairs around and a soft rolling noise from behind hinted that Jess had rolled her chair forward. As for Dean, he came around to slide into the seat Ardsley had vacated.
“So many...” Mary sobbed. “So many....”
“It’s not your fault, Mar,” John stated.
“But it is. If I hadn’t taken the deal....”
“Mom,” Dean interrupted, putting a hand on her shoulder. “This whole thing is bigger than us. And you had no way of knowin’ this would happen.”
“None of us did,” Pops agreed. “If we had, we’d have tried to warn people when we were there in March, or had Missouri do it. It’s too late for that now. But I think we can all agree on one thing.”
John nodded once. “This ends now.”
“Damn straight,” the boys and Zeetha chorused.
Mary sniffled and turned to hug Dean, who hugged her back as he always did, like she was some kind of porcelain doll, something rare and precious and fragile. Sam, on the other hand, hugged her with an expression that said he was ready to murder every demon who’d made her cry. Then she hugged Pops, Zeetha, and Jess in turn, and John gave her his handkerchief to wipe her face.
“Shall we go get some more coffee, Mary?” Jess offered.
Mary drew a ragged breath and nodded. The whole family stood up at the same time, and Zeetha picked up Mary’s mug as Sam and Pops moved out of the way.
Mary sniffled and turned to John. “I’ll come help with research in... as-as soon as-”
“Take your time, sweetheart,” John replied and kissed her temple. “We’ve got plenty of help.”
Mary nodded. “’Kay. Thanks.” Then she turned back and stepped into the side hug Zeetha was offering her, and together they started off toward the kitchen. Jess came around from the other side and fell into step with them, and John watched the three of them go, two blonde heads and one green, a mother taking comfort from her daughters-in-law.
Daughters-in-law. Plural. Three months and change, and John still wasn’t used to it. Sometimes, despite having known and worked with Zeetha for four years, he still had trouble remembering Dean was a married man; but he’d thought Sam’s introduction of Jess as his wife had been an April Fool’s joke until Pops had shown him the marriage certificate. He didn’t know why it was so hard to get his head around the fact that there were seven Winchesters now, not just three, but there it was.
“I’ll go get your laptop, Dad,” Sam volunteered and jogged off toward the bedrooms before John could do more than grimace. John understood why the kids had insisted on giving him that thing-it was easier to do his own research that way, and Ash had even put programs on it for tracking both Azazel and the other kids like Sam-but computers were still the bane of his existence, and getting tutorials on Internet research from Pops, of all people, had only added insult to injury.
Dean, meanwhile, pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call Bobby, see if he can pin down any omen patterns. Might help us head the demons off at the pass.”
Pops nodded. “I can-”
“Dean!” Ardsley suddenly called from the library.
“What?” Dean asked and dashed through the doorway to where Ardsley and Van were sitting at the first library table, Pops and John hard on his heels. “Whatcha got?”
“News article from Colorado Springs,” Ardsley replied and tilted the screen of his laptop back to let the Winchesters read the headline: Mass Murder in Manning: Barn found littered with beheaded corpses, police suspect occult ceremony gone wrong.
“Vamps?”
“That’s what it looks like, but it’s worse than the headline suggests.”
“Move,” John ordered, and Ardsley got up to let him sit down and read the article for himself while Dean and Pops read over his shoulder. The fact that the dead vampires had been left for the police to find was partially accounted for by the appearance of Gordon Walker’s name in the list of identified victims, although that didn’t explain who’d killed him or why one and only one of the victims had been shot rather than beheaded. But then John got to a paragraph that made his blood run cold:
The incident comes just one day after the murder of Manning resident Daniel Elkins, who was discovered dead in his home following an apparent burglary. Elkins’ safe was found standing open, but police have not yet found an inventory of the safe among his papers. The only thing of value known to have been stolen was an antique pistol....
He swore. “The Colt. They’ve got the Colt. Elkins had it this whole damn time, and now....” He swore again, more violently.
“John,” Pops began.
John rounded on him. “Pops, that gun’s the only weapon that can kill Azazel. I’ve been trying to get hold of it for months, and now-”
“Dad,” Dean interrupted firmly. “It’s fake.”
“The hell do you mean, it’s fake?”
“The gun that got stolen. It’s not the real Colt.”
John blinked rapidly. “What?”
“It’s true, John,” Pops said. “The one they stole is a close copy, close enough to fool almost anyone but us. Her Majesty charmed it to be able to kill average monsters and demons, and Zeetha altered its appearance to match the real one.”
Dean nodded. “We swapped ’em out in December. Elkins never knew the difference.”
John wished he’d had more coffee. “So you’re saying....”
“We’ve got the real one. Four bullets left. It’s at the mansion, in the safe.”
John groaned and ran both hands over his face. “And I’da known that if I’d returned your call back then.”
Pops patted his shoulder. “Well, look on the bright side. Whoever has the fake Colt now can’t possibly know that we have the real one. If they want it for protection, it should still work, but if they want it for nefarious purposes, it won’t.”
John nodded slowly as he thought back over the description of the crime scene in the news report. “Might explain why one victim was shot-trial run. Question is, was he a vamp, or....”
“I’ll get the police reports and the coroner’s reports,” Van said, already typing on his own computer. “Those should have more details about the crime scenes and the victims.”
“Look for any mention of sulfur,” Pops suggested. “I have a hunch.”
“You’re thinkin’ demons?” Dean asked as John stood to let Ardsley have his seat and computer back.
Pops nodded. “The timing is too close to be wholly coincidental. First Elkins dies and the fake Colt is stolen. Then the beheadings, then the assault on people who knew Mary. My question is why.”
John hummed thoughtfully. “Walker was a vamp specialist like Elkins. Could be the vamps killed Elkins and Walker killed the vamps.”
“And the demons killed Walker and stole the fake Colt?” Dean suggested.
“Could be.”
“So what’s so important about the Colt that they would go into high gear like this as soon as they got it?”
“That’s the $64,000 question.”
“There might be something in Colt’s journal,” said Pops. “Is that microfilm still here?”
“Colette took it to the mansion,” Ardsley piped up. “Since we weren’t using it and don’t have a microfilm machine that we’ve found yet, she thought it should stay with the Colt.”
That threw John off balance again. “What... microfilm?”
Dean nodded. “That’s what they were doin’ in Michigan.”
“Here you go, Dad,” Sam called before John could ask any more questions. “Getting anywhere, guys?”
“Maybe,” Van replied. “I need some help getting into this system, though.”
Sam set John’s laptop on the other end of the library table and went around to look at what Van was doing.
“I’ll email Tarvek,” Pops said. “You go ahead and call Bobby.”
“Right,” Dean agreed, and the two of them walked back out to the command center.
With a huff, John sat down and turned on his computer. It had just finished booting up when Zeetha brought him a fresh cup of coffee and a doughnut, which improved his mood slightly. He stared at the screen while he ate and considered his research strategy, then opened the Azazel-tracking program. He was disappointed but not surprised when the program found no new updates to offer. Then, mostly out of habit, he pulled up the other tracking program.
And dozens of updates rolled in-almost all of them Missing Persons reports.
“What the...” John murmured and started reading through them.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been at it when a hand landed on his shoulder, startling him. “Got something, honey?” Mary asked hoarsely.
“Maybe,” he answered.
She sat down beside him and set up her own computer. “Something I can help with?”
“Yeah. Need Missing Persons, APBs, and BOLOs for kids Sam’s age.”
“Last thirty-six hours?”
“Make it forty-eight, just to be safe.”
“Right.”
“I thought the tracking program pulled those records automatically,” Theo said, sitting down at the other table.
“It does,” John replied, “but only for the kids I know of to track. May be some I haven’t found yet for some reason.”
“So why are you widening the net?”
John looked up at him. “Every one of the kids I’ve tracked has disappeared in the last two days.”
“Are you serious?” Sam and Dean chorused and came over to see.
“Every last one.”
Dean swore. “Sammy-”
“Don’t say it, Dean,” Sam interrupted, and John thought he heard a faint tremor in Sam’s voice. “I know.”
There was a pause before Sleipnir said, “Sure and they can’t all be like the Miller lad.”
“No, but what are the odds any of them even know that demons are real?”
“Slim to none,” Ardsley and Van chorused.
Dean sighed. “Bobby said he’d call back when he had somethin’. Maybe that’ll tell us where the other kids disappeared to. Nothin’ much we can do until then.”
“Not on that score,” Pops agreed. “What have you found so far, Van?”
“Enough to support your hunch,” Van replied. “Judging from the crime scene reports, Elkins had laid salt lines, but whatever killed him crossed those lines and tore out his throat. That’s consistent with a vampire attack.”
Theo frowned. “How do you know? I mean, I know you’re from Transylvania, but I thought Dracula was a myth.”
“As envisioned by Bram Stoker and Hollywood, yes. No one’s really sure what happened to Prince Vlad Tepes; his grave has never been found, but that isn’t proof that he was a vampire. But there... is a nosferatu in Mekkhan. Ht’rok-din cel Negru, he’s always called, the Black Heterodyne. He’s sealed in the family crypt beneath the temple.”
“Sealed?” Mary echoed. “As in buried alive?!”
Van shrugged with an apologetic grimace. “Well, buried undead. Supposedly there’s a way for him to keep from starving in there, but I’ve never asked my father what it is. We all learn the signs of a vampire attack, though, just in case he ever breaks out again.”
“Wouldn’t it be kinder to just kill him?”
“One doesn’t kill the Masters. Especially when they’re already dead. The goddess won’t hear of it.”
Dean cleared his throat. “So you were saying about Elkins?”
“Yes, sorry.” Van coughed. “From the photos and the fingerprint evidence, it looks like Elkins had gotten the ersatz Colt out of the safe himself but never fired it, so probably the vampire took it after killing Elkins, and possibly other valuables as well. The police did find a cache of money and silver in the barn, but there’s no indication here of where those things might have come from. There were no traces of sulfur found at Elkins’ house, but there were traces in the barn, particularly around the gunshot victim and on the pillar behind Walker’s body. The police also found a machete with blood from the beheading victims on it and a knife and stone bowl with Walker’s blood on them.”
“That explains the subhead speculating about an occult ritual,” Pops observed. “There was blood magic used, just not of a type the police would recognize.”
“There was?” Jess asked, confused.
“Demons use a bowl or chalice of blood to communicate over long distances.”
“So lemme get this straight,” Dean said. “Vamps kill Elkins; Walker kills the vamps; demon kills Walker and tests the fake Colt on... what, another demon?”
“Sounds like a good guess,” John agreed. “Uses Walker’s blood to call Azazel; Azazel tells ’em to move fast.”
“But we still don’t know why or where the kidnap victims are.”
“Right. We’ll have to see what Bobby-” John was interrupted by Dean’s phone ringing.
“Speak o’ the devil,” Dean quipped, pushed two buttons on his phone, and set it on the table. “Hey, Bobby, you’re on speaker.”
“Mornin’, all,” Bobby said. “Well, Dean, I got an answer for ya, but you ain’t gonna like it.”
“Why? What’s the word?”
“The word is bupkis.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Couple cattle mutilations around Lawrence yesterday, like you figured, but since midnight? Nada. Not a single thing in the entire Continental US.”
Everyone in the room-which John could now see was everyone but Zantabraxus, and he felt silly for not having noticed when everyone else came in-exchanged looks of surprise.
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Mary said. “We’ve found dozens of disappearances. Surely there must be something!”
“You would think,” Bobby agreed. “But there ain’t. Ain’t never seen it this quiet. Tells me somethin’s in the wind.”
“Yeah, but what?” Theo asked.
“I don’t have a damn clue, but-”
Sam suddenly cried out and collapsed to his knees, clutching his head.
“Sammy?!” Dean yelped and knelt next to him as Jess ran around the table to his side.
But Sam didn’t seem to notice; his eyes were screwed shut, and his breath was coming in short, harsh pants. “Wha... who’s...” he gasped. “Yes... yes, I-ah! ... Ye-... how ma-... okay... okay... we’ll be... eight hours... yes....” Then he sighed in relief and sagged against Jess with a groan.
“You all right, Sammy?” Dean asked.
“Ye-... no,” Sam wheezed.
Jess rubbed his back. “What did you see? Who were you talking to?”
“Name’s Andy... Andy Gallagher. He’s... he’s like me.”
Mary looked at John, who nodded.
“Can send visions,” Sam went on. “Just found out. Called for help. All the ki-... kidnap vics... they’re in Cold Oak.”
Bobby swore. “Cold Oak, South Dakota? You sure?”
Sam nodded. “Saw the bell.”
“How many vics we talkin’?”
“Fifty, sixty... wasn’ sure. Couple are al-... already dead. ’Zazel said... wants ’em to fi-... fight to the death. Las’ survivor... gets to leave.”
“Sounds like we need all hands on deck,” said Pops.
“I agree,” said Zantabraxus, walking in from who knew where. “I must remain hidden, but I will help you plan your assault before you go.”
“Any families we need to protect, John?” Bobby asked.
“Just one that I know of,” John replied. “Last name is Talley.” With a click, he pulled up the address and read it off.
“Got it. I’ll send Rufus.”
“Have him bring the mother and sister to Cold Oak,” Zantabraxus ordered. “They will be needed there.”
Bobby hesitated a second but replied, “Yes, ma’am.”
“I will send word to Klaus and Gilgamesh.”
“Yes, ma’am. Only other hunter I can get on notice this short is Ellen Harvelle. Jim’s off on a mission trip this week, an’ Caleb’s tied up with a djinn.”
“That will suffice.”
“Yes, ma’am. See y’all tonight.” And Bobby hung up.
Theo stood. “So you want all of us?”
“Yeah,” Dean said. “Like Henry said, all hands on deck.”
“We’d best arm up, then,” Ardsley said, and most of the kids left.
“What about me?” Jess asked. “Zeetha’s been training me, but....”
Zantabraxus bent down to put a hand on Sam’s head, and his breathing eased. “You should go,” she told Jess, “but you need not fight. Those who accept help will need charms against possession and hex bags for protection.”
Jess nodded eagerly. “I can make those, sure.”
“Our car’s warded,” Zeetha noted. “But how do we make sure the demons don’t come along and flip it?”
“You will establish a defensive perimeter before entering the town,” Zantabraxus replied. “It will require the power of nine souls, bound by blood and by love.”
“Lemme guess,” Sam said, sitting up. “Six Winchesters and three Wulfenbachs.”
Zantabraxus smiled. “You are wise, my champion.”
Mary gasped. “Six-but if Jess stays in the car-”
Dean chuckled, stood, and clapped John on the shoulder. “Guess this means you and Mom are off the bricks, Dad.”
“I guess so,” John replied, not at all sure this was the kind of action he’d been itching for.
Next
* So long