mizpah1931: Latin Exorcism - don't leave home without it (Default)

Title: The A to Z of Demonology
Season: 3 – immediately after the episode Bad Day at Black Rock
Category: General, Action, Humour
Warnings: Sam ouchies...
Tagline: After dealing with the YED and the Seven Deadly Sins, the boys thought they were getting a handle on demons  – but they’d never encountered anything quite like this before…
Total Word Count: 34,601
Total Chapters: 6
Chapter 2 Word Count: 5461
Beta: ziggyuk
Story Banner: Chasidern
Award Banner: hobbleit
Winner:  SN.TV 2008 Awards – Best Humour Fanfiction (Tied with Concussed – And Loving It)


Here we are - chapter two. Enjoy!

 

Chapter 2

Sam grimaced as he averted his gaze from his brother’s plate of bacon, eggs, sausage and hash browns, concentrating on his dry toast and sweet tea.

Smirking, Dean shoved a forkful of the greasy food into his mouth. “Dude,” he mumbled.

The young hunter held up a hand in warning. “Dean, do me a favour – swallow first, okay?” He crumbled his toast on the plate, keeping his eyes downcast.

Dean shrugged, and chewed in silence for a few minutes, taking in the slump of his brother’s shoulders, his pale face, and bloodshot eyes. “Dude, you gotta eat something.”

“I am eating.” Sam picked up a piece of toast; his face scrunched in disgust, and took a tiny bite. He jumped as Dean slid an egg onto the remaining piece, and he stared in horror at the bright yellow yolk wobbling gently in a sea of blinding white albumen. “Gah!”

Dean grimaced as Sam made a hasty exit toward the bathrooms. “Oops.” He removed his good deed back to his own plate, along with the toast, and signalled the waitress.

When Sam finally staggered back to the booth, he glanced at his plate, breathing a sigh of relief to see that the offending egg was gone. Wiping a hand across his sweaty forehead, he met his brother’s concerned gaze with a weak smile. “I’m fine, Dean.”

“I can see that.” Dean pursed his lips as the waitress placed a fresh serving of toast, and a strong cup of coffee, before his sibling. Waiting until the waitress walked away, he leaned forward. “Okay, what have we got on this gig?”

Sam flipped open the cover of his laptop, glad to have something to do to take his mind off food. He called up the news reports that Bobby had found, and skimmed through them, picking out the relevant details. “So – uh, there’s not much. It’s like Bobby said – a few crop failures, some power fluctuations – nothing major.”

Dean put down his fork and scratched the tip of his ear. Picking up his coffee, he took a long swallow before holding the cup between his hands. “No biblical swarms, no people going psycho?”

“Nothin’.”

“Huh.” The green-eyed hunter drank another mouthful of coffee, watching as his sibling absent-mindedly picked up a fresh piece of toast and began to eat. “Maybe this time we’ll get there before the hell spawn can do any real damage.”

“Maybe…” Sam murmured distractedly, his eyes focussed on the laptop screen. A frown appeared between his fine dark brows, and he leaned forward, his lips parting slightly as he scanned another news report. “Or maybe not.”

“What?”

“There was an explosion in a local factory just after midnight. There’s not much in the news report, but the cops suspect arson.” The hazel-eyed hunter glanced over the top of the screen. “You think?”

“One way to find out.” Dean dropped a handful of bills onto the table as he rose to his feet. “Let’s go.”

*     *     *     *     *

“All right – thank you for your time, officer.” Sam flipped his notebook closed, slid it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, and smiled at the helpful young cop. He strolled casually away from the yellow strip of police tape surrounding the burned out remains of the outdoor furniture factory, heading for the street corner, and the gleaming black Chevy parked just out of sight.

Dean glanced up as his sibling folded his lanky frame into the passenger side of the Impala. “So?”

“So, the cops haven’t got the cause of the fire yet, but they’re pretty sure it was arson. And they still don’t know who, or why.”

“No suspects? What about the owners?”

Sam shook his head as he stretched out his legs as best he could. “Nope. The factory was doing well. Orders were pouring in – they were at the height of their busy season. The owners are doing great financially. There’s no ex-employees with a grudge, no unhappy customers, nothin’ – no reason why anyone would set fire to the place.”

“Weird.” Dean brought the black classic roaring to life, and checked over his shoulder before pulling away from the kerb. He kept silent for a few minutes, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he guided the Chevy through the light stream of traffic. Dean spotted a liquor store a few blocks away from the motel, and grinned as he pulled over. “Great – just what you need.”

Sam blinked in confusion, his gaze shifting from the sidewalk to his sibling. “What?”

Dean pointed to the store. “In you go.”

“For what? I don’t want a drink.”

“No, dumbass – you owe me another bottle of Jack, since you drank my entire supply last night.” Dean rolled his eyes, and made shooing motions with his hands. “Go on, move your ass already.”

Sighing in exasperation, Sam unfolded his long frame from the car, checked his money clip, and strode into the liquor store. He was back in a few minutes with a brown paper bag gripped in his hand. Settling back into the Impala, he laid the bottle on the seat beside him. “Happy now?”

“Delirious.” Dean ignored his brother’s amused snort, and pulled back onto the road. “So - if it is demons, why the hell would they want to blow up a furniture factory?”

The young hunter shrugged. “Well, if they just want to create chaos and destruction, they’re picking a good way of doing it. Although there’s something I don’t get.”

Dean pursed his lips as the motel came into view. “Just one thing?”

“There was no body count. No one was hurt in the explosion. That’s weird, even for a demon.”

Dean sighed, bowing to the inevitable. “Research?”

Sam grinned. “Research.”

*     *     *     *      *

Dean puffed out his cheeks, and made clicking noises with his tongue as he glanced around the hushed library. He flinched as a boot connected with his shin, and he scowled at his sibling. “Ow! Dude…”

“Will you stop?” Sam hissed. He tossed a quick look over at his shoulder, and smiled a reassurance at the pretty librarian as she glanced his way. Turning back to his sibling, he shook his head in warning, his face losing its smile. “Why don’t you wait in the car? Or help me with this research? Why don’t you check the weather reports for the last few days – see if you can find any unusual storm activity?”

The elder hunter held up his hands. “Oh, no – that’s your thing, not mine. I’ll go talk to some of the locals.” Winking suggestively, Dean inclined his head toward the front desk as he got to his feet.

Sam glanced at the librarian, and gave an annoyed huff as he shook his head. He turned back to the computer as Dean sauntered away.

Approaching the desk, Dean studied the young woman sitting behind a pile of returned books. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, pretty in a fluffy sort of way, with a cloud of wavy light brown hair surrounding a pixie face. She glanced up over the rims of her pink wire-framed glasses, her vivid blue eyes widening in surprise. “Can I help you?”

Dean rested an elbow on the stack of books, and leaned down. The stack teetered alarmingly under his weight, and the startled hunter drew back, grabbing at the books before they could topple over. He missed, and the stack promptly fell across the desk with a clatter, knocking a half-filled coffee cup, a rubber stamp, a handful of pencils and a ruler to the floor. “Oh crap, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay – just an accident. Happens to me all the time.” The woman held up a hand, blushing as the handsome hunter crouched down beside her to help clean up the mess.

Dean’s face flamed with embarrassment, and he was sure he could feel his brother’s disapproving stare drilling into the back of his neck from all the way across the room. He risked a peek over his shoulder, and sure enough, Sam was staring at him, his lips clamped tightly together and his brows drawn into a frown. Shrugging, Dean mouthed “not my fault” at his sibling, who shook his tousled head and returned to his research after one last scathing glare.

Together, the tall hunter and the petite librarian gathered up the mess, and Dean stood back as the young woman restacked the pile of books.

The woman turned, dusting her hands down her tan suede skirt as she looked up at the handsome man standing beside her desk. “Well, that’s fixed. Uh – was there something…?”

Dean snapped his fingers, and his grin returned full force. “Oh – right, yes, there was something. We – my brother and me – we’re working on a book.” Dean licked his lips as he warmed to his subject. “On – uh – mysterious – happenings. You know – unexplained events. We’re kinda travelling across the country, gathering information. And I was wondering – well, that factory just exploding, you know? Kinda weird, don’t you think?”

The librarian’s blue eyes widened as she gazed up at the hunter. “Oh, I love mysteries! You mean like aliens, and crop circles – that kind of thing?”

“Uh – well, no.” Dean shook his head, fighting to stop his eyes from rolling in exasperation. Aliens of all things – every hunter knew there was no such thing as aliens. And crop circles were probably just the work of some hick kids pulling pranks. “More like – ghosts, and monsters – you know, things that go bump in the night.”

“Wow,” the young woman murmured, clearly impressed. Her gaze shifted to the tall shaggy haired hunter seated at the computer on the other side of the room. “And he’s your brother. Wow – he’s so – wow…”

Dean’s mouth fell open, and he quickly shut it with a snap. Schooling his lightly freckled features into an expression of polite interest, he bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud. So, the librarian chick’s got a thing for Geekboy – well if that isn’t a match made in heaven…. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, he’s – well – I guess – um…” Dean cleared his throat, and loosened the suddenly constricting tie. “I’m Dean, and that’s Sam.”

“Nice to meet you, Dean.” The woman held out a dainty hand. “I’m Alisa.” Her gaze remained on the younger brother bent diligently over his notes.

Dean shook the proffered hand. “Okay, so – have you heard anything – seen anything?”

The librarian blinked rapidly as she pulled her admiring gaze away from the taller hunter. “What? Oh – um, no, not really.” She twirled a wavy lock of hair around one finger as her eyes drifted back toward the oblivious hazel-eyed man. “Um, there was one thing.”

Dean stepped in front of the petite woman, blocking her view of his brother, bringing her focus back to him and the task at hand. “And what was that, exactly?”

“Well, Mrs Winslow, one of the volunteer ladies – she said that a neighbour of hers was acting – kinda weird, you know? Last night. But – I mean, it was Harry Peterson – he’s kinda….” The librarian took a cautious glance around, and leaned forward, motioning for Dean to come closer.

The tall hunter bent closer to the petite woman. “Kinda what?” he murmured softly.

“Well, he drinks, you know?” The girl touched a finger to the side of her pert nose and nodded sagely.

Dean nodded back, and winked knowingly. “Okay. So – do you think I could talk to Mrs Winslow for a minute?” He spread his hands and smiled engagingly. “I mean, it’s probably nothin’ – after all, if the guy’s a lush… But it might be worth checking out – you know, just to hone our interviewing skills.”

Alisa smiled brightly, and motioned for Dean to follow her into the tiny staff kitchen. “Oh, sure. She’s back here.”

Stepping into the room, Dean focussed his gaze on a matronly woman with softly waved silver hair framing a kind face, dominated by twinkling eyes as green as his own.

“Donna – this is Dean. He’d like to ask you a couple of questions.” Alisa leaned closer to the woman, and added in a loud whisper, “It’s about Harry.”

Donna Winslow frowned slightly as she studied the tall, well-built hunter. She nodded, and indicated the chair opposite where she was sitting; pushing aside the plastic boxes of library cards she’d been sorting. “Have a seat, young man. Coffee?”

“Uh, no thanks. So…” Dean laced his hands together on the tabletop and brought all of his charm to bear as he gazed at the elderly woman. “Alisa said that you saw something – weird – last night? Something to do with your neighbour?”

“Are you with the police, young man?” the woman gently queried.

Alisa leaned over the back of Dean’s chair. “Dean and his brother are writers, Donna. They’re putting together a book on weird and unexplained happenings,” she supplied helpfully.

Donna raised a finely arched silver eyebrow. “And what has this got to do with Harry?”

Dean turned up the charm a notch. “Well, ma’am, it’s probably nothing. But you know, we’ve been at this over a year now – you’d be surprised at the things we’ve seen. It’s enough to turn your hair gr…” Dean broke off, his gaze on the woman’s silvery grey hair. He cleared his throat to cover his embarrassment. “Uh – what I mean is – I’ve found that sometimes the smallest things can lead to the most interesting hunts.”

“Hunts?”

The hunter mentally kicked himself in the butt. “Well, it’s kinda like hunting. Getting the lore, tracking down what’s fact and what’s not.”

“Hmm – well, I don’t think you’re gonna find much to hunt around here. Apart from that big explosion in the furniture factory last night, the biggest news event in the last couple of months was when old Ms Peabody’s Persian cat got into Mrs Blenkinsopp’s house and ate half her collection of rare tropical fish.”

Smiling politely, Dean tried his best not to look bored. Sam was so much better at listening to this crap than he was.

Alisa nodded in agreement, and then her eyes blanked for a moment. “No, Donna – there was that other thing – that weird storm a few weeks ago.”

“Oh, yes, I forgot about that.” The elder woman pursed her lips as she remembered. “That was a doozy. I’ve never in my life seen clouds act that way.”

Dean rested his elbow on the table and leaned slightly forward, his interest sharpening. “What way was that?”

“Well, it was almost like they were horizontal mini tornadoes. Dozens of spinning black clouds, shooting right across the sky. And the lightning – it was fierce. Made your hair stand up on end. All the dogs started howling – horses and cattle runnin’ around like mad things. And as for the poor cats…” Donna shook her head sadly. “Half of them went completely crazy.”

Demon storm, Dean thought to himself. Definitely something here to check out. “So, is that when this Harry guy started acting – strange? After the storm?”

“Oh, no – Harry was just fine. Well, up until last night, anyway.” Donna took a sip of coffee from the cup beside her elbow. “Now, I didn’t see him, mind you – it was my Chester. He was outside looking for our cat, and Harry was coming home from the bar. They spoke for a bit, and then Chester came back inside. Then we heard a commotion, and Chester thought maybe Harry had fallen over, so he went out to see what was going on. When he came back inside, he was as white as a sheet – he looked like he’d seen a ghost.”

Dean arched his eyebrows. Or a demon… “So, did he tell you what he saw?”

“He pointed to a scarf I’m knitting for Alisa.” Donna smiled fondly up at the young woman. “She loves bright colours. Well, this one’s kinda really bright…”

“Fuchsia,” Alisa supplied, smiling at Dean.

He smiled back uncertainly. Dean had no idea what the hell fuchsia was, but it sounded vaguely ominous.

“That’s right. Well, Chester said – he said that Harry – Harry’s eyes had turned – fuchsia. And he was stone cold sober. Harry told Chester that he felt just fine, and then he walked off down the street, twitchin’ and talkin’ to himself. It was about two hours later when we heard this almighty boom – rattled my china cabinet, among other things. That was the factory going up.”

“Uh-huh.” Quickly, Dean pulled out a notebook from his pocket, and rapidly jotted down some notes. “And – had Harry ever had – fush – fuss – fews…”

“Fuchsia.”

“Thank you – fuchsia eyes before this?”

Donna laughed softly. “Bloodshot maybe. And that’s what I thought Chester meant at first. But he said Harry’s eyes – they glowed. Like with an unholy light. And they were definitely fuchsia. The whole of his eyes – he didn’t see any white – just fuchsia.”

“So this Harry guy – where could we find him?”

“Eddie’s Bar and Grill after 6pm.”

“Tonight?”

The woman nodded solemnly. “Every night,” she added wryly.

Dean stood up, and shook the elderly woman’s hand. “Well, ma’am, thank you for your time. You’ve been most kind.”

“My pleasure, young man. You’ll have to let us know when this book is published – maybe put in a good word to the publisher to give us an advanced copy.” Donna waved a hand at the pretty librarian. “Alisa’s always keen to update the Supernatural section.”

Dean smiled, his green eyes dancing. “I’ll surely try, ma’am.”

Alisa trailed the tall hunter back out to the reception area. “So, do you think it might be something to investigate after all?”

“Well, I don’t really know. Probably not, but we’ll go talk to Harry anyway.”

“Okay – well, if you need any help…” Alisa spread her hands, indicating the shelves groaning with books lining three quarters of the bright, airy room. “You – or your brother – just ask.”

Dean shook the librarian’s small dainty hand and grinned. “We’ll be sure to call you.” His grin turned into a smirk as he strode back to his brother.

Sam jumped as a sinewy hand swatted him across the shoulder. “Crap! Dean…” He let the threat go unfinished as he looked up into his sibling’s twinkling green eyes. “What?”

“Pack it up – let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Eddie’s Bar and Grill. We have a date.” Dean rested a hand on his hip. “With a guy called Harry Peterson.”

The young hunter’s lips curled in distaste. “Dean, if this is your idea of a joke….”

Dean dropped onto the vacant chair at Sam’s side, and leaned toward his sibling. “The library chick, who is hot for you, by the way – she told me that this Harry dude was actin’ weird last night, a couple of hours before the explosion at the factory. And she led me to an eyewitness who said his eyes changed colour, too. Sounds like it could be our guy.”

Sam huffed as he closed down the computer and gathered his notes. “And it could be nothin’. And what do you mean, she’s hot for…” Sam glanced up, and tapered off into silence as he met the vivid blue eyes of the pretty librarian. Alisa waved, and he tentatively waved back, pointedly ignoring his sibling’s mile-wide smirk. “Eddie’s Bar and Grill?”

“The one and only.”

“Let’s go.” Sam quickly gathered up his notes, silently cursing the blush that tinted his cheeks as he walked past the librarian’s desk, feeling her admiring gaze on him every step of the way. He blew out a sigh as he exited the building, and squinted in the late afternoon sunlight. “So, an eyewitness? What did she – or he – see?”

Dean slid behind the wheel of the Chevy and brought the engine to life. “Well, she didn’t see it – but her husband said this Harry dude’s eyes changed colour – they were fush – fewsa – fewl…”

“Fuchsia?”

“Yeah, that’s it. What the hell is that, anyway?”

“It’s like an electric magenta.”

Dean frowned as his brother scanned the notes he’d taken during the afternoon’s research. “Magenta?”

“Magenta is kind of a pinkish purple. And fuchsia is an electric pinkish purple.”

“So, why the hell don’t they just say electric pinkish purple?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “’Cause it’s easier to say fuchsia.”

“It is if you’re a chick,” Dean muttered testily, earning himself a swat on the shoulder from his exasperated sibling.

*     *     *     *     *

Eddie’s Bar and Grill turned out to be quite the opposite of the nightmare Sam had been expecting. The place was set out in a large L-shape, with the bar at the narrow arm of the L, flanked by a couple of well-used pool tables. Booths and tables were set out in the wide part, or base, of the L, in a comfortable dining area. A jukebox played softly in the corner. There were woven placemats on the well-made wooden tables in place of tablecloths, and cutlery gleamed in the subdued lighting.

Dean glanced around as he settled into a booth at the far corner, his back to the wall. He had a clear view to the bar and part of the front door from where he sat, and he nodded in satisfaction as the smiling waitress placed a jug of water, two glasses, and two menus down on the table. His gaze flicked over her pert figure, and the smile lit his eyes as she returned the favour.

Sam rolled his eyes and hid behind the menu while his brother and the waitress carried on their silent flirtation. He raised his head as she finally sashayed away, finding his brother’s gaze locked on her butt gently undulating under the tight black skirt. “Hey.”

“Mmm-hmm?”

“This Harry guy. You got a description?”

Dean winked, and pulled his wallet from his pants pocket as he rose to his feet. “Order for me, dude – I’ll be right back.”

Sam pressed his lips together, his dimples creasing his cheeks, as he went back to scanning the menu. He let out an exasperated huff as a shadow fell across him, and a sinewy hand slapped the menu down flat onto the table.

“And don’t even think of ordering me a salad,” Dean admonished, wagging a finger in his sibling’s face. He was gone again in a flash, weaving agilely through the early evening crowd as he made his way to the bar.

Sighing, the shaggy haired hunter signalled the waitress, and quickly scanned the menu as he placed their orders. He filled his water glass and sipped at the cool liquid, turning the saltshaker idly between his long fingers as he waited for his brother’s return. After about ten minutes, a chilled bottle of beer dropped into his line of vision, and he grinned as he plucked it from Dean’s hand. “So?”

“So…” Dean slid back into the booth and held the beer up to the light. “I told the bartender we were insurance brokers and we were told to meet the dude here, so he said he’d send our boy Harry right over when he comes in.” Grinning, Dean clinked his bottle against his brother’s, and took a long swig. “So – what do we know about demons with fuchsia eyes?”

Sam shook his head as he retrieved the laptop from its leather bag and set it up on the tabletop. His fingers danced across the keypad, as he called up a few web pages he’d bookmarked from previous demon hunts. “Uh – not much.” He fell to his research, taking an occasional sip of his beer as he worked.

Dean rested against the padded leather seat, his gaze flicking idly between his brother and the bar entrance. After a few minutes, he fell to studying the crowd, playing an old game of Guess the Occupation in his mind as he studied the people, their dress, and their mannerisms. He’d just about classified three quarters of the patrons when he got to the end of his beer, and tapped his sibling on the arm, indicating that he was going up to get another round.

Sam nodded absently, lost in his research. He finished the last mouthful of beer, and reached out automatically to take the full bottle that appeared in front of him, his eyes glued to the computer screen.

The elder hunter forced down a grin, recognising the signs – his brother was in full-on Geekboy mode. Sitting back down, Dean scanned the room out of habit, and his grin burst forth full-blown as the pretty waitress sauntered over to their table with a laden tray.

“Here we are, gentlemen. I’ll bring out your pie when your meals are done.” Giving Dean a wink, the girl deftly slid the loaded plates onto the table and returned to the kitchen.

Dean attacked his barbecued ribs and baked potato with relish; even forgiving his brother for the small side salad that came with it. He shoved the plate of flame grilled chicken and vegetables toward his sibling, deliberately bumping the rim of the plate against the edge of the laptop. “Hey – food.”

“In a minute,” Sam murmured distractedly as his fingers danced across the keyboard.

The elder hunter sighed, and shook his head as he draped a hand over the laptop screen. “Now, dude – you gotta eat something.”

Sam’s worried eyes met his brother’s across the table. “Damn it. Nothing here mentions fuchsia eyes.”

Dean shook his head as he cut into the baked potato. “Well, maybe we need to widen the search.”

The young hunter nodded as he flipped his cell phone from his pocket and rapidly dialled a number. “Hey, Bobby….what?” Sam’s cheeks pinked, and he shot his brother an uncomfortable glance as he partly turned away. “Uh – yeah, I’m – fine…I was…what? Singing….”

A stifled chuckle burst from Dean’s lips, and he tried to cover it up by coughing lightly. He shrugged innocently as his brother threw a savage scowl in his direction.

“Uh – no, well – I guess….look, can we just….what – what do you know about a demon with fuchsia eyes?” Sam rolled his eyes to the ceiling as he listened to the gruff response. “It’s kind of an electric pinkish purple….no, I’m not drunk again – anyway, it was Dean who found the eyewitness….no, nothing in the research so far….all right….no, we’re gonna see this guy for ourselves soon….all right, we will. Thanks, Bobby.”

“What did Bobby say?” Dean asked casually, keeping his gaze on his meal.

“Uh – he’s got nothin’.” Sam’s blush deepened as he shrugged. “He said he’d have a look at some of his books and get back to us. Told us to be careful.”

“Uh-huh – and what else did he say?”

“Nothin’.” Sam shifted uneasily in his seat.

Dean grinned at his brother’s discomfort. “Nothin’?”

“Nothin’ to do with the hunt.” The younger hunter concentrated on his dinner, cutting into his defenceless chicken with short, savage strokes of the knife.

“Singing?”

“Shut up.”

The meal continued in silence for a few minutes. Dean watched the waitress glide back and forth between the slowly filling tables and booths. Sam shut down the laptop and gave his attention to his food, which was well cooked and quite tasty, compared to some of the places they usually dined at.

Dean finished his ribs and wiped his mouth on the napkin, grinning in appreciation. “Man, that was great. Sure beats anything we had to heat up at a mini mart.” He reclined against the padded seat, and draped an arm across the back. “And did I hear her say there was pie?”

Sam nodded, a smile tugging at his expressive mouth as he saw his brother’s grin. “Yeah, there’s pie.”

“Dude – if this is what you can come up with, you can order for me for the rest of my…” Dean broke off his comment as he saw his sibling flinch. Mentally kicking himself for reminding Sam of just how short his life span had become, Dean hastily tried to make amends. “Sammy – hey – man, I’m…”

Holding up a hand to forestall his brother, Sam shook his head. “Don’t.” He pushed his plate away, suddenly no longer hungry, and picked up his beer.

“Sam – we have to…” The elder hunter trailed off into silence as his gaze pinpointed a short, stocky man dressed in a rumpled suit who was currently leaning across the bar, talking to the bartender. “Hey – heads up. Think our guy just arrived.”

Sam put down his beer and turned casually, his eyes narrowing as he picked out their target. He saw the bartender gesture in their direction, and the man turned to look over his shoulder at the waiting hunters. Forcing a friendly smile onto his handsome face, Sam raised his hand and waved the businessman over.

Harry hesitated, shoving his hands in his pants pockets as he studied the two tall, broad-shouldered young men dressed in suits and ties and sitting in the rear booth. Slowly, he made his way over to them, taking in the slight wariness of the tousle haired one, and the tough, confident air of the shorter haired one. He came to a halt about four feet from the table as the shorter man got to his feet. Something about the men made him uneasy.

“Harry Peterson?” Dean held out his hand to be shaken. “Hi – we’re from the…”

Harry’s eyes glowed bright fuchsia in the subdued lighting, and he stepped back, hissing in annoyance as the demon inside recognised the type of men he faced. “Hunters!” he spat, glaring at the brothers. His gaze slid past the younger one, and then zoomed back, his lip lifting in a snarl. “Worse than hunters! Winchesters! The boy prodigy himself.” The businessman flung out a hand as Sam shot to his feet, sending a demonic shove at the hunters. The shove hit Sam’s shoulder as he took a step toward the possessed man, catching him with one foot off the floor. His lanky frame was jolted sideways, and he crashed into his sibling, sending both Winchesters tumbling to the floor in an undignified tangle of limbs.

Cursing, Dean shoved his brother off his chest as the businessman pushed his way rapidly through the crowd toward the front door. “Nice to be famous,” he gasped as he jumped to his feet and hauled his sibling upright. “I’ll follow pink-eyes out the front – you go round the back.”

Sam nodded and sped toward the kitchen, nimbly sidestepping the stunned waitress as she came to see what the commotion was all about. Mumbling a hasty apology, he sprinted past the harried cook, wrenched open the back door, and stepped out into the darkness. His senses on full alert, Sam made his way to the corner of the building, hearing the rapid thud of approaching footsteps.

Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, Sam withdrew a small silver hip flask and quickly unscrewed the top. He drew in a deep breath, and then stepped out from the relative safety of the bar’s back wall, right into the path of the fleeing demon-possessed man. He flicked his wrist, sending a fan of holy water cascading over the businessman.

Harry dodged the spray of blessed water with inhuman speed, and crashed full into the tall young hunter, bringing them both crashing to the ground.

Sam grunted as his head impacted with the hard packed ground, and bright stars flashed before his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he tried to clear his blurry vision. A dark shape loomed over him, and he flung up the hand holding the flask, hearing the demon let out a startled yell as the holy water finally made contact.

Rolling free, the elder man jumped to his feet, hissing and batting at his faintly steaming flesh. He spun on his heel, and snarled at the hunter as Sam pulled himself to a standing position. Stretching out his hand, he shoved at the shaggy haired young man.

Feeling the impact of the demonic shove against his chest, Sam staggered back a few steps, and his right boot skated across a loose stone on the ground. His arms windmilling as he tried to regain his balance, he groaned as he saw the demon grin. Sam felt the impact of a second, harder shove against his tall frame, and then he was falling, his balance destroyed. His head struck the side of the building as he fell, and the light show that played out across his vision almost blinded him in its intensity.

Darkness curled at the edges of Sam’s vision, as his conscious mind was pulled inexorably toward a bottomless black pit. Man, Dean’s gonna be pissed

The demon grinned in satisfaction as he hurried away from the crumpled form of the unconscious young hunter.

*     *     *     *     *

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