Putting the Super in Supernatural ((FanFic))

CHAPTER SEVEN.

Sam was the first to react. “Cass! How’d you find us?”
Castiel snapped and the ropes binding Dean fell away. “It wasn’t easy. I’ve been looking for you ever since Zachariah zapped you out of those woods.” He put a hand on Dean’s cheek and the blood began to siphon off.
Dean staggered into a standing position, ducking out of Castiel’s reach with a wince. “Wait…I thought you did the zapping.”
Castiel shook his head mournfully. “I was going to but he intercepted. I guess once he saw you were going to be leaving, he decided to at least make sure you went where he wanted instead of where I wanted. He’s more powerful than I am, especially when pissed.”
Dean doubled over, clutching at his stomach. Sam took a step in his direction but Dean waved him off. “I don’t understand…why would Zachariah throw us in the way of the devil and his demons? In the middle of some ritual no less.” Sam’s brow furrowed as he waited for Castiel to answer.
“He was trying to prove to you Sam that he was right about Dean being your weakness. They were taking it easy on him and you almost said yes to Satan back there.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa…taking it EASY on me?”
“So you agree with him that I should die?” Sam inched backwards, ignoring Dean.
“No, of course not. You were right…we are friends, you and I, Sam. I risked a lot trying to zap the two of you out of there and even more when it didn’t work and I had to battle Zachariah to find your exact location. I wouldn’t have you killed, not after that.” For the first time, a bruise became evident on Castiel’s cheek, just below his eye, a gash at his hairline.
Dean, still bent double and wincing, tried to straighten up. “Well, good timing at any rate, Cass. Those douche bags were turning me into batting practice.”
“We’ve got to get out of here before the demons find their way back” Castiel pointed out, tossing an ace bandage at Dean. “Wrap that around the cut on your arm and let’s go.”
Sam was all for it, turning to follow Castiel’s lead, but Dean wouldn’t budge. “We can’t leave.”
Sam blinked. “Come again?”
“There are a million people missing from this city Sam. I will bet that eye Scarlet was trying to carve out of my head that they aren’t all dead and that this ritual they were talking about has something to do with sacrificing them. Remember what happened the last time they sacrificed people? Death rose. The horseman Death. Any of that ringing a bell? We have to stop this.”
Castiel was stumped into silence. Sam took the bandage from Dean’s bloodied hands and began wrapping up his arm methodically. “Dean, look at you. You can barely stand, let alone fight dozens of demons and whatever else they’ve unleashed in this city. Cass is right, we’ve got to bail.”
“Bailing isn’t really my style Sammy.” Dean’s sarcastic smirk turned into a coughing fit capped with yet another wince.
Sam put a hand to his forehead, massaging his temples wearily. “I know, Dean.” His hand dropped. “Cass, what can we do to stop this thing? There’s got to be something.”
“I don’t even know what this thing is. What I do know is that we’ve got an angry bunch of demons and an even angrier Zachariah looking for us. My powers can only keep them at bay for so long.” Castiel looked over one shoulder anxiously.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen an angel look scared before, Sam. Have you?” Dean gave his patented quick and sarcastic smile that accompanied all of his quips, while testing the strength of the bandage on his gashed arm.
Sam nodded, speaking to Castiel without removing his eyes from Dean. “Well can you at least fix the phone lines so that we can call Bobby…or maybe even Chuck? One of them might know what this ritual is for.”
“They’re fixed.” Castiel barely moved a finger, still keeping his eyes peeled for any disturbances.
Sam whipped out his cell phone and punched the second speed dial. Bobby answered after only one ring. “Sam? Are you and Dean alright? Have you caught the ghost yet?”
Sam switched the phone to his other ear. “Err…no. We’ve got bigger fish to fry here, Bobby.”
“Like what?”
“Demons have wiped out Boston, Massachusetts for some kind of ritual. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?”
“A demonic ritual in Boston…first I’ve heard of this. You boys are ok though, right?” Bobby sounded worried.
“We’re fine, Bobby. We just”-
“Speak for yourself.” Dean pulled a face, rubbing at his ribs.
Sam turned his back on Dean. “We just need to figure out how to stop whatever this is and then get out of here before Zachariah, the hit-angel, finds us.”
“Zachariah? What’s he want with you?”
“Well apparently he wants to prove to me that I’m weak and insignificant so I won’t fight him the next time he tries to off me.” Dean groaned loudly so Sam added, “Oh and he doesn’t mind throwing Dean to the wolves to get the message across.”
“Wolves?”
“Demons, Bobby. You know what I meant.” He held the phone away from his ear, activating the speaker-phone with one click.
“Wait a minute…an angel sicced demons on you?”
Dean spoke to the phone in Sam’s outstretched hand. “Not on us Bobby. On me. And yes, he did. Needless to say, Angels are not high on my Christmas gift list right now.”
“Hey…” Castiel frowned.
“Except Cass” Dean amended, holding out his hands, palms up, as if to ask ‘happy now?’ A satisfied Cass went back to being their look-out. “Anyway Bobby” Dean went on, taking a few steady breaths to check out the status of his ribs. The pain was marginally better. “…any ideas at all that could be useful in giving us a lead on this thing? We don’t have much time.”
There was a long pause. Sam started to pull the phone back towards himself to check the battery power and service, but his actions were interrupted by Bobby’s crackling voice. “Well, I might have one theory. But it’s crazy.”
Sam and Dean looked at each other and then down at the phone. Dean was the first of the two to recover his voice. “ Bobby…you do know who you’re talking to right? Crazy is kind of a relative term with us.”
“No boys, I mean it’s really crazy. Like…even for you, crazy.”
“Just tell us, Bobby. We can’t really afford to waste time, here.”
Dean made an impatient gesture at the phone and Sam snorted. “He can’t see you, Dean” he whispered, directing his mouth away from the phone.
“Yeah, well I don’t care. He knows what I was doing” Dean fired back.
“How?”
“What do you mean, how?”
“What do you mean, what do I mean”-
“BOYS!” Bobby’s impatient voice rang in their ears.
“What?” Their irritably synchronized voices were just as impatient.
“I think what you’re dealing with here is a birthday party.”

CHAPTER EIGHT.

“Run that by me again?” Dean looked at Sam, whose baffled expression mirrored his own.
“Demons don’t have birthdays, Bobby” Sam added. “That makes the need for a birthday party pretty non-existent.”
“No, no, no…he may be right.” Castiel looked like he was thinking hard about this. “It’s been said that every 666 years, if enough souls are sacrificed, the demons can raise one of their own who has died. Not just been exorcized back to hell, but died.”
“Let me guess…it’s been 666 years since the last birthday party.” Dean didn’t wait for an answer. “Just great.”
“And how many souls count as ‘enough’?” Sam looked from the phone to Castiel.
Bobby answered first. “100.”
Sam and Dean stared. “Let me get this straight.” Dean began pacing, his ribs no longer a main concern. “We have one night to stop an army of demons from killing 100 out of one million people?! We don’t know which of the million they’ll go after or where they’re hiding them all.”
From under his typical trench coat, Castiel handed each brother one of the special demon-killing knives for safety. “That’s not all that’s problematic.”
“Oh really? Well that’s good because we didn’t have our hands full already.”
Castiel remained straight-faced as he usually did whenever Dean shot snarky quips his way. “It is one hundred souls per resurrected demon. If they kill 200 people, then a second demon can rise and if they kill 300 then”-
“Yeah, we got it, Mr. Mathlete.” Dean nodded at the phone still in Sam’s palm. “Thanks Bobby…we’ll call you back when we have a plan.”
“Wait a minute Dean, you can’t”-
Sam snapped the phone shut and slipped it into his pocket. “Who do you think they’re planning to bring back? Lucifer’s out already and he was pretty much their priority.”
“I think any dead demon is a priority now Sam. They only get the one shot every 666 years.”
Sam’s face paled. “Do you think they might bring Ruby back?”
Dean stared at Sam, trying to work out if he was pleased or scared with the prospect, but before he could land on a conclusion, a chilling laugh echoed around them. “Now why would we want to bring her back Sam? Didn’t I already tell you how we felt about her?” Scarlet stepped from the shadows, leaves swirling around her feet in the wind as she strolled closer. “I see you’ve figured out our ritual anyway…bravo boys, bravo…it has been said that you two are the best. I was inclined to believe otherwise a few hours ago, but now…”
“Well then who are you planning to bring back?”
“I’d say it was none of your business, but…well you killed her Sam and that makes it your business…and since we can’t hurt you, she’ll be taking it out on Dean so that makes it his business…the only person here whose business it isn’t would be the halo-nut over there.” She raised one hand, fingers poised to snap.
“I’m going, I’m going.” Castiel vanished in a gust of wind.
“Cass!” Dean shouted into thin air.
Sam’s eyes snapped to Scarlet. “Did you?”-
“Cool your jets. I didn’t touch your precious angel; he left all on his own.” She snorted. “Real brave friend you got there.”
“Who are you planning to bring back” Sam repeated while Dean continued to stare at the space where Cass had been standing moments ago.
“Oh come on Sam, I already gave you a clue...don’t tell me you need another one? You’re really disappointing me on the brains front so far.” A devilish smirk played at her lips.
“Just tell us or I’ll run you through right now.” Dean reached into his pocket and surfaced with the special demon-exterminating knife.
Scarlet’s smile froze on her face. “Where did you get that?”
“An even exchange…give us the names of who you’re bringing back and I’ll give you the name of who gave us the knives.”
“I’m not going to sit around here while you wave that thing in my face. I shouldn’t do this, but I’ll give you one more clue…she was described by that prophet friend of yours as a comely dental hygienist…think about it.” And with that she was gone.
Dean lunged, slicing nothing but air. “Dammit.”
All the color left Sam’s face. “Oh crap.”
Dean turned, sheathing the knife. “What?”
“A comely dental hygienist, Dean…”
“Yeah? What about it?” Dean looked skyward. “Cass…are you there?”
“That doesn’t sound familiar to you at all?” Sam shook his head, his expression pained.
Dean abandoned his sky patrol to turn and look at Sam once more, frustrated. “No. Should it?”
“That’s how Chuck described Lilith.”
Sam had Dean’s full attention now. “Wait…so they’re bringing back Lilith? The first demon ever created…the devil’s right hand man…err, woman, rather. That’s who they plan to make their first return demon? The one who killed sweet old guys for fun while on holiday? She’ll be roaming the earth again??”
“That’s what it sounds like.”
Dean’s expression would have been funny if the situation wasn’t so dire. “Sammy…we are so screwed.”

CHAPTER NINE.

“Lilith??” Bobby’s tone matched how the boys were feeling.
“Yes, Bobby, that’s what we said. Three times.” Dean reached into the bag of Cheetos that was serving as lunch and chomped down on a handful.
Sam plucked the phone from Dean’s Cheeto-free hand and placed it to his own ear. “Have you gotten in touch with Cass yet? Can you tell him where to find us so he can get his ass back over here? We could use just a touch more back-up than the two knives he gave us.”
“You’re going up against an army of demons and possibly Lilith with two little sticks? Are you suicidal, boy??”
Sam’s spine bristled. “What other choice do we have, Bobby? We don’t have the Impala or our arsenal in its trunk. Cass vanished just because a demon told him to and all we have left are the knives.”
“Oh you have a choice. A choice to not be stupid for once in your lives and to leave town immediately.”
Sam glanced over at Dean who was inhaling Cheetos. “I don’t really think that’s an option here, Bobby. Just tell Cass to find us and we’ll take care of it.” Without waiting for a response, Sam hung up.
“What’s not an option” Dean asked through a mouthful of the orange snack.
“Leaving.” Sam sat down on the curb across from Dean. “Bobby thinks we should high tail it to his place before this ritual starts. He thinks we’re being stupid.”
Dean took a swig of beer. “…did you happen to remind him who he was talking to? Again? He has a habit of forgetting.”
Sam cracked a dry smile. “Must have slipped my mind. He does have a point though, Dean…we have one knife each and that’s it. Maybe we should”-
“Should what, Sam? Leave this town and its innocent population to be Lilith bait?” Dean gingerly un-wrapped the now-blood-soaked bandage on his arm and poured a healthy dose of alcohol over the revealed wound, hissing through his teeth.
Sam held up his hands in surrender. “Ok, I get it. You’re right. The problem still remains that we only have one knife each, we don’t know where they’re holding all the people, we don’t know when the ritual starts, and we don’t know which of the million they’re going after first.”
Dean chugged back the last drops of beer, grimacing. “That’s four problems, Sammy.” Sam’s lips parted but no sound came out, obviously puzzled. Dean expanded upon his original insight. “You said the problem still remains, but in reality it’s four problems.”
“We have a huge dilemma here Dean, and you want to talk semantics?!” Sam shook his head, ripping off a chunk of his tee-shirt’s hem and tossing it to Dean. “Here. Use that as a makeshift bandage until we can get you another one.” He studied their surroundings carefully. “I think I know where we are.”
Dean knotted the piece of shirt around his injured forearm and stood up. “How can you possibly know that?”
Sam suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Well…in my sophomore year at Stanford, we came to Boston for a week. We went to a basketball game and I’m pretty that’s the stadium over there.” He nodded at the largest building around; carefully avoiding Dean’s searching eyes. He didn’t want to talk or think about college as it was just a reminder at how easily he had left his brother behind. He wouldn’t do it again, that was for sure, but it was still an awkward topic for both of them.
Dean gave up trying to catch Sam’s eye and instead turned to take in the size of the stadium. “If you were trying to round up a bunch of people and keep them together until ritual time”-
“This would be a pretty good place to do it” Sam finished.
***
“Ready, Sammy?” Dean reached into his leather jacket’s innermost pocket, grasping the special knife in clammy fingers.
Sam looked from Dean to their targeted location, then back to Dean while pulling out his own knife; its tip glinted in the mid-afternoon sun. “Ready. Oh, and just so we’re clear on this…we are not splitting up to search for hostages.”
The comment brought forth a genuine, completely sarcasm-free, smile. “Don’t worry Sammy; Bobby can say what he wants about us, but even we’re not that stupid.”
Sam placed his back against the wall on one side of the stadium’s front door, tensing as Dean reached for its handle. A wry, teasing grin slid onto his face. “Well I’m certainly not, but I don’t know Dean…you have your moments.”
Dean twisted the slippery doorknob. “Just get ready, will you?” He sprang at the door, using one shoulder as a battering ram. “Dammit” he growled when nothing happened. Rubbing his shoulder with an agonized wince, he readied himself for another try.
“Uh, Dean?”
“What?!”
“Try pulling.”
Dean raised a finger and pointed it at Sam warningly. “Shut up.”

CHAPTER TEN.

“You know…I really wish we had flashlights.” Dean crept forward another inch, squinting hard.
“I really wish we had a lot of things.” Sam tried to smile as though he was joking but the panic wasn’t hard to miss.
Dean slowed. “Sammy…I don’t like this any more than you do but one million people are”-
Sam held up a hand, cutting his brother off mid-sentence. “Down the hall and to the left. Does that sound like voices to you?”
Dean pressed his back against the wall, sidling closer. “It’s coming from the locker room.” He threw precaution to the wind and sprinted in that direction; Sam followed at a more cautious speed. “Locked.” He banged on the door with one fist. “Don’t worry; we’re going to get you out of there.”
A high pitched and terrified voice met their ears. “Please hurry! He said he’d be back for us soon.”
“Who did?” Dean bent and scooped up a brick from the ground, his other hand still clutching the sole weapon he currently possessed.
“That would be me, boys.”
They spun around, brandishing their knives. “Sorry to burst what I’m sure is a huge ego, but just saying ‘me’ doesn’t do us a world of good. Who the hell are you?” Dean slid the brick-wielding hand behind his back, feeling around for a lock to smash with it.
“The name’s Frankie. I’m what you’d call Scarlet’s personal assistant.” He moved forward, his eyes changing from the possessed human’s natural brown to demon-black.
“Your mother must be so proud” Dean quipped while continuing his subtle lock-searching act.
“You really want to talk mothers, Dean?” Frankie gave a demonic sneer, clearly enjoying himself. “I mean, I will of course, but I don’t want to upset you.”
Dean’s brick found its targeted lock and he tensed in preparation. “Go to hell.”
Frankie’s grin widened mockingly. “Been there, done that. So thank you for the travel advice but I think I’ll pass.”
With an impressive amount of speed, Sam snuck up behind Frankie and put him in a chokehold, the knife hovering dangerously over his chest. “Oh but we insist. We’ve arranged it with your travel agent and everything.” Without wasting another second, Sam’s hand flashed forward and the knife plunged deep. There was a long, drawn out scream accompanied by beams of yellow light emitting from the man’s eyes, nose and mouth. As was often the case, sadly, the no-longer-possessed man didn’t make it. Sam pulled the knife free and wiped it on his shirt without looking.
“Travel Agent?” Dean hoisted the brick, ready to let it fall.
Sam’s shoulders hunched defensively. “It was the first thing that came to mind, ok? I was more focused on getting rid of the demon than having some clever comeback.”
“Point taken. Now, we’ve got to hurry. If Scarlet’s boy-toy was sent down here to check on things and doesn’t report back…”
“…it won’t be long before she comes down here herself” Sam finished, nodding in agreement. “Right. Well, in that case I’d say we only have one option. One of us has to run groups of them to the door while the other stays here to watch and protect the remaining hostages.”
Dean lowered the brick, his arms starting to tire. “Sam, you were the one who said we shouldn’t split up.”
“I don’t see another choice here Dean. There’s too many to take to the exits all at once.”
The high pitched voice spoke again, though less terrified this time. “Could you maybe have this argument AFTER we are all out of this smelly place?”
Dean jumped, having nearly forgotten there were people in there, despite the nature of his and Sam’s argument. “Sorry” he called back, bringing down the brick with as much power as he could manage. It took a few more tries but eventually the lock gave way and the door sprung open. The boys could not help but stare; at least 200 people had been crammed into the locker room, which from the outside did not look like it could hold more than 50.
“Watch your step, take your time; it’s all going to be ok.” Sam tried to sound soothing and friendly as the hostages stampeded for the open doorway, knocking each other over in the process.
The owner of the high pitched voice was the first through the door. She looked from Sam to the red-tinged knife in his hand. “I don’t know if you’re aware of the situation here but that thing you just stabbed is a demon. I’m not a crazy person” she went on, nearly sobbing hysterically. “I’m a college-degree-holding citizen. No one in there believes me!” She waved wildly over one shoulder at the mass exodus of people. Sam and Dean swapped looks and she broke down even farther. “Great, you don’t believe me either! I’m just trying to help us get out of here alive and all everyone does is laugh at me!”
Sam grabbed her shoulders in an attempt to diffuse the hysteria. “Look at me. Calm down. What’s your name, first of all?”
“Wendy.”
“Ok, Wendy. No one’s laughing at you.” Sam tipped his head towards the exit. “Dean, can you…?”
Not seeing much of an alternative, Dean rounded up the first 20 people and barked, “Listen! You are all in real danger here, if you hadn’t noticed. You and the rest of Boston’s population are being hunted down for some kind of sacrificing ritual. I am going to get as many of you out of here safely as I possibly can but you have to be quiet and do exactly what I tell you. Can you do that?” An eerie silence fell as heads could be seen bobbing up and down throughout the group. “Good. That goes for the rest of you as well. I’ll be back for another 20 as soon as I can. Stick close to my brother and he’ll protect you.” Dean gestured at Sam who was still trying to calm Wendy down.
“I promise, Wendy, no one is laughing at you. And I don’t think you’re crazy, believe me. I need you to think back…what did he say to you when he locked you all together?”
Wendy chewed on her lower lip, wringing out both hands. “I…I don’t remember all of it…he said something about us being the lucky first few lambs…it made no sense but now learning about the sacrificing and stuff, I guess it does.”
Sam looked straight into her eyes. “Think Wendy. Anything else?”
“Um…he said something about hoping we were night owls and that midnight couldn’t come fast enough for him. And…and that’s all I can remember. I was hyperventilating. His eyes were this creepy black color without any pupils!” She gave a trembling sob. “Look, I know you think I’m nuts, but I’m just telling you what I saw.”
“Trust me, Wendy…I’m pretty much an expert on crazy and you don’t even come close.” Sam released her shoulders and got to his feet to address the crowd. “Ok, I want everyone to get into groups of 20 people.” As they were following this order, a sudden thought struck him. “Is there anyone here with a rosary or cross necklace?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” An elderly woman near the back sounded suspicious.
“I don’t really have time to explain and you wouldn’t believe me if I did. But I do promise that once this whole mess is over you will have it back in one piece, no damage whatsoever. It just might be a little wet.” Sam elbowed his way as gently as possible through the crowd of staring people to collect what he had asked for. He addressed the onlookers again. “I know this is going to sound strange but I really need you all to head back into the locker room. It will only be for another twenty minutes at most, I promise. But I can’t protect you all and do what I’m about to do without you moving to the locker room.”
“I can’t go back in there” whispered Wendy tearfully while others loudly said much of the same.
“You have to. Twenty minutes. Please” Sam begged. “I know it doesn’t sound like it, but this is really for your own safety.”
A middle-aged man made a noise of disbelief. “Yesterday morning I was a normal guy. I was eating breakfast with my wife and we were discussing politics like we always do...did. Some guy shows up, slits her throat and drags me off. I spent hours in that horrible room with that morning scene playing over and over in my head. I finally get out and now you want me to go back in?? Not happening, bucko. I’m out of here.” He broke free from his cluster of 20 people and made for the door.
“Sir, no please…”
“Oi! My brother asked you all to do something and he asked it very nicely. Now shut your cakeholes and do it!” Dean came striding through the door at that very timely moment, a gun in each hand and a duffel bag over one shoulder. Sam stared, as did everyone else. After a shell-shocked minute of silence, the Boston citizens began shuffling back into the locker room. Dean crossed to stand on Sam’s other side. “Why do you want them back in there anyway?”
Sam made sure his voice was low enough so that no one could overhear. “I noticed a full water cooler in there and thought I could use this rosary to conjure up some makeshift holy water.” He paused the explanation, eyeing Dean’s artillery. “Or at least that was my plan before you showed up looking like James Bond. What’s with the sudden weapons?”
Dean tossed the second of the guns in Sam’s direction, letting his duffel bag drop to the floor. “The Impala was sitting outside the door Sam. Just sitting there. Cass must have been by again or something.”
Sam caught the gun easily. “Nice of him to stay and help.”
“At least he left the car. We can have a little chat with him about skipping out of town on a demon’s say-so later but we’ve got to survive this thing first.” Dean dug two flashlights out of the duffel and tossed one to Sam. “The holy water’s actually not a bad idea. Everyone can get a cup full of the stuff and use it as self-defense if absolutely necessary.”
Sam caught the flashlight as well, juggling it with the gun and knife already occupying his hands. “I’ll go get started on that then. You take another group. Where are you bringing them anyway?”
Dean straightened up, shouldering the bag again. “There’s a church two blocks up the street. I demon-proofed it in every way I could think of, and then I did it again so it’s doubly secure. It’s pretty big so at least these 200 will be able to fit and probably many more.”
“Once we find them” Sam pointed out, slipping the knife into his belt and tucking the flashlight under one arm. This left the gun and rosary, one in each hand.
“Once we find them” Dean repeated heavily.
Wendy had been lingering behind everyone else this whole time, straining her ears to pick up snippets of what was being said. Her eyes were wider than dinner plates and her hands were white. “F-forget what I said before. I was hallucinating or something, but you…you’re crazy. Both of you.”
Sam couldn’t help a smile twisting his lips upwards as he headed for the water cooler. Dean took Wendy’s arm and led her back to the next waiting group of 20. “Trust me kid, it’s been said before.”