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 5 Word Count: 5789
Story Banner: Chasidern
Award Banner: hobbleit
Winner: SN.TV 2008 Awards – Best Humour Fanfiction (Tied with Concussed – And Loving It)
“So, this is what you boys do for a living?” Al glanced at his tall companion as they strolled down the main street. Long shadows grew across the sidewalk as the sun began to set, painting the sky with brilliant hues of gold, flame and pink.
Dean glanced up, grimacing as he saw that they were about to lose the light. “Yeah, it’s what we do. Only I wouldn’t exactly call it a living.” His gaze slid sideways, alighting briefly on the mechanic’s curious face. “We don’t get paid.”
Al grunted softly. “Oh.” Wisely, he decided that he really didn’t want to know how the boys came by the means to survive.
“Odd jobs – and hustling pool.” The tall hunter grinned faintly, figuring that credit card scams came under the title ‘odd jobs’.
“Ah.” Al nodded sagely.
“So, Al,” Dean began. “Any ideas why the demon wanted to blow up a diner? Or a furniture factory?”
The grizzled mechanic shook his head slowly. “No – just that he wanted to see things go up with a big bang.”
“Huh.” The hunter scratched the tip of his ear and paused on the sidewalk, allowing the light stream of pedestrian traffic to flow around him as he got his bearings. He searched the shop fronts, noticing the blackened, cordoned off remains of the diner on the opposite corner. “Any ideas what he’ll hit next?”
“No – damned well wish I did. All I know is he got a kick out of seeing things burn.”
Dean had his cell phone halfway out of his pocket before he remembered that there was still no communication with the outside world. Sighing, he slid the useless cell back into his jacket, wondering how his brother was faring with his end of the search. “Well, how about we try getting inside the son of a bitch’s head – try to figure out where he’ll hit next. Unless you can remember who he went into after he left you.”
Al shook his head, regret in his light grey eyes. “No, it’s all a blur after I left you. Sorry about that, by the way. I tried to stop him.”
“Yeah, I know.” Dean rubbed a finger over the edge of the gauze dressing taped to the side of his head. “So – what else in this town would go up with a really big bang?”
The mechanic pursed his thin lips, narrowing his eyes against the last rays of the sun as it dipped toward the nearby hills. “Well, let me see. There’s the pizza parlour over on State Street. They’ve got ovens, and oil and crap. There’s the newsagent and card shop down the street – full of paper. There’s a little print shop over on Third. Charlie’s got ink, and paper, and all kinds of other crap that’d make a good blaze.”
Dean blew out a sigh as the mechanic went on.
“And then there’s the hardware store – they fill gas bottles. I guess the local bakery would go up with a hell of a bang – they have those big gas ovens. Mrs Tremayne’s Bridal & Evening Wear – she’s got paper patterns and stuff. There’s a model shop – they’ve got paints, and thinners.”
The hunter flapped his arms in exasperation. “Yeah, okay, I get it! The whole freakin’ town’s a potential fire hazard – an accident just waiting to happen!” Dean ignored the pained look on the local man’s face. “Look – is there anything that would give the son of a bitch a really, really big bang?”
Al opened his mouth, closed it without saying a word and thought for a moment. And then he clutched at the sleeve of Dean’s leather jacket as his face drained of all colour. “Oh, my God…”
“What?” Dean frowned in concern. “Al – what?”
“My…” Al swallowed noisily. “My garage,” he whispered, horror in his faded grey eyes. “I’ve got gas tanks, and propane tanks out back. Oil – all kinds of crap…”
“Son of a bitch! And since our little…” Dean hesitated, glancing cautiously around before lowering his voice, “… problem has already been inside your head, he knows just how to get into the place. And how to do the most damage.”
Al pressed his hand over his heart. “My garage…”
Dean glanced at his watch before grasping the little mechanic by his thin shoulders. “Al! Get a hold of yourself! Look – we got another hour before we have to meet up with Sam and Harry. Let’s see if we can retrace your steps from this morning – see if you can remember who you ran into. Maybe we can pick up a clue as to who’s carrying the demon now.”
The mechanic pulled himself together with a visible effort, straightening his wiry frame. He cleared his throat, nodded once and fell into step with the tall hunter as they headed along the street toward the low hill where the communications tower had once stood.
* * * * *
“So, this is what you boys really do for a living?” Harry glanced up at the tall hunter by his side as they made their way down a quiet residential street not far from the motel.
Sam shrugged, and grinned faintly. “Yeah, it’s what we really do. Only, I wouldn’t exactly call it a living.” His grin widened at the businessman’s curious look. “We don’t get paid.”
“Then how…” Harry broke off, holding up a hand. “It’s okay – I really don’t need to know.”
“It’s all right, Harry. We work odd jobs. And Dean – well, sometimes he hustles pool.” Sam turned his gaze to the houses they were walking past, deciding it was stretching the truth a little, but he guessed he could get away with putting credit card scams under the heading ‘odd jobs’.
“Hmm.” The elder man strolled along, deep in thought. Finally he voiced what he thought was a safe question. “So, how did you boys get into all this?”
Harry stopped, his mouth falling open in surprise. “Your mother was a hunter?”
The young hunter smiled sadly and continued walking. “No – our mom was killed by a demon. I was just a baby. Dean was four. Our dad – he found out what killed her, and he became a hunter. He trained us.”
Biting his lip, the businessman glanced up as his companion fell silent. “Sam, I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
“Guess that explains why Dean didn’t want us involved, then.”
“Yeah, but this demon – it’s nothing like the one that killed Mom.”
Harry rested his hand on Sam’s shoulder for a moment. He had grown quite fond of the two tall boys from Kansas in the short time he had spent in their company. The elder man became lost in his thoughts, imagining what the Winchesters’ life was like, always on the road, calling no place home. Sam’s soft, deep tone snapped him out of his reverie.
“Hey, Harry? Won’t your wife be worried that you haven’t come home yet? Not that I don’t appreciate the extra pair of eyes, but…”
“Oh, I haven’t got a wife, not any more. We separated, oh – around fifteen years ago now.” Harry pushed up the sleeves of the borrowed jacket for the thousandth time that afternoon. “She’s living somewhere in Cali with two kids and a hippie husband who makes bead bracelets for a living.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Nah, don’t be. She’s happy – I’m happy. What more can a guy ask for?” The stocky businessman studied the houses as he walked along, hoping to find some sign of the demon and fervently hoping that he would recognise the sign if he did come across it.
“And what about Al?”
“Al? Oh, he was always too smart to get caught by a woman. He never married. Loves his poker and his beer on a Friday night, bowling on Thursdays, the Lodge on Tuesdays, and the other nights he has a quiet evening at home, listening to his old rock and roll records and making model cars.”
“Huh.” Sam chewed on his lower lip, deep in thought. “So – if it’s not a rude question – would you say you and Al were – lonely?”
“Loners, not lonely,” Harry mused. “Too much to do to be lonely.”
“Loners.” The young hunter’s pace slowed noticeably as the burgeoning thought took shape in his brain. “Loners.”
Sam came to a halt, staring at the large white house at the end of the street but not seeing it. “Loners…” He snapped his fingers and turned to face the bewildered businessman, his eyes glittering. “Loners – you and Al – and Ukobach. Maybe that’s why he picked you.”
“Because we’re loners?”
“Yeah.” Sam paced across the sidewalk, warming to his topic. “See, demons need a way in – a chink in the armour, before they can possess someone. Only in this case, the demon wasn’t looking for a chink, he was looking for a kindred spirit – someone like him.”
Harry scratched his head in confusion. “You think this demon is lonely?”
“No – a loner. He’s a really minor demon. No one calls him up – he’s there to do everyone else’s bidding. I’m guessing a lot of the time he’s just overlooked. So – I’m thinking he’s kind of a loner. And that’s why he possessed you and Al. ‘Cause you’re loners, too.”
Frowning, the elder man looked askance at the tall hunter. “Do you really think so?”
Sam rolled his shoulders and glanced at the slowly setting sun. “It’s the best guess we’ve had so far on this hunt. Couldn’t hurt to check it out.”
“But – what about you boys? With what you do, you two could be considered loners, too.”
“Uh – well, not – not really. Well, maybe, I guess. It kinda comes with the job, you know? Anyway, we can’t be possessed.”
“Why? Because you’re hunters?”
“No.” The shaggy haired hunter reached inside his shirt, pulling out a thin silver chain. Dangling from the chain was a tiny charm. “We’ve got these. Protection charms – they stop demon possession.”
“Wow. You boys know all the tricks.”
Sam’s face lost its smile for a moment. “Not all of them. We’re still learning some of it as we go along.”
“Hmm. So, where does that leave us, exactly?”
“Well, now we might have a better chance of narrowing down our search for who the demon’s possessing at the moment.” Checking his watch as he continued along the sidewalk, Sam noted that he still had an hour before he was to meet up with his brother. “All right, Harry – who else in this town is a loner?”
* * * * *
“Loners?” Dean’s eyebrows rose. “Dude – seriously.”
Sam spread his hands. “What else do we have, Dean? It’s a start. I mean, let’s face it – nothing in this hunt so far has been your typical demon possession gig. It’s the best lead we’ve had so far – hell, it’s the only lead we’ve had so far, besides finding out the demon wants to blow stuff up.”
“Okay, all right. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Sitting down at a table in the tiny coffee shop, Dean nodded and smiled at the waitress as she brought him a cup of coffee and a menu. He glanced at the two elder men before returning his attention to his brother. “Okay, well, Al and I think we’ve got a lead on where old pink-eyes is gonna hit next.”
“Yeah?” Sam stirred sugar into his coffee, and tapped the spoon against the edge of the cup. “Where?”
“My garage,” Al moaned softly. He put his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands. Harry patted his shoulder in sympathy.
“Yeah. Seeing as old Uko-whatever likes to see things burn, we figured the gas tanks would make a nice tasty target.” Dean took a long swallow of his coffee, set the cup aside and picked up the menu. “So, after we grab some dinner, Al and I’ll go and stake out the garage. You take Harry and go check out your Lonely Hearts Club members.”
Sam gave an annoyed huff as he snatched the menu from his brother’s hands. “It’s loners, not lonely people, Dean.”
“There’s a difference?”
“You’re kind of a loner, big brother. You tell me.”
Dean glared at his sibling as he snatched the menu back. “I am not.”
“Sure, you are. You fit the profile. You keep to yourself. You don’t really like people all that much.”
“That’s ‘cause people are crazy,” the elder hunter muttered, his attention on the menu. He remained oblivious to the amused smirks of the two middle-aged men. “Anyway, it goes with the job.”
“Whatever, man.” Sam waited for his turn at the menu, rolling his eyes as his brother flirted with the pert waitress. To his surprise, Dean handed the menu back and asked the girl for the cheque.
Dean winked at his brother’s puzzled look. He waited until the girl had walked away before cupping a hand to his ear. “Dude – you hear that?”
Sam cocked his head to the side, his eyes half closing as he concentrated. “No – what is it?”
“I can hear a plate of barbecued ribs from Eddie’s Bar and Grill calling my name.” Smirking, Dean beckoned to the two local men and got to his feet. “Come on, Sasquatch – I’m starving. Pay the nice lady so we can go get some decent food.” He was gone before Sam could think up a suitable rejoinder.
Shaking his head, the tall hunter pulled his money clip from his jeans pocket and paid for the coffee.
* * * * *
Dean groaned softly for the fourth time in a half hour, shifting uncomfortably on the cold, slightly damp ground. “Oh, man…”
“Guess you’re regretting having that second helping of pie, huh?” Al smirked as the tall hunter rubbed his belly.
“Dude, I never regret having pie.” Dean looked indignant at the suggestion. “Must have been that damned side salad. I told Sam I didn’t want any of that healthy crap.”
The wiry mechanic snorted softly and peered through the darkness. The two men were holed up behind a low hedge in someone’s front yard, watching the garage across the street. The security lights were on around the deserted building, bathing the driveway, the front entrance, and the back door in a soft yellow glow.
Dean checked his watch. “Just after 2am. If old pink-eyes holds to pattern, we should see him soon.” He shifted again, trying to ease the cramp in his legs.
Al sighed softly and settled cross-legged onto the damp grass, casting a cautious glance at the dark house behind them. “Son, I sincerely hope so. This night air’s no damned good for my arthritis.”
“Hey, old-timer – you could have gone home.”
“You kidding me? That’s my garage that damned thing’s gonna blow up. I’m not just gonna sit at home with my feet up while my business goes up in smoke.”
Dean nodded, his lips quirked into a grin. He’d grown to like the two local men in the time he and his brother had spent with them. Al was his kind of guy, and they’d spent a pleasant evening talking about engines, much to Sam’s amusement. He and Al had parted company with Sam and Harry just before 10pm, to take up their vigil and hope that they spotted the demon before it could do its dirty work.
Hearing a faint rattle from behind the garage, Dean narrowed his gaze as he concentrated on the area of darkness just beyond the pool of soft light over the door. His keen eyesight picked up movement in the blackness, and he hissed as a shadowy figure slipped toward the outer wall. He nudged Al’s arm, inclining his head toward the building as he slowly got to his feet. “Showtime.”
* * * * *
“Knight to C6,” Harry Peterson murmured, hunkering down against a low brick wall.
Sam half closed his eyes, and then a faint grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Bishop to B5.”
“Oh, nice move.” The elder man scratched his jaw. The silence stretched on for a few minutes.
“Your move, Harry.”
“I’m thinking. Don’t be so impatient.”
Chuckling softly, Sam eased the cramp in his legs as he watched the house across the street. He could see the silhouette of the occupant through the half-drawn curtains in the living room. Together, he and his companion had sifted through a short list of likely suspects for possession by the demon, and had slowly eliminated the names one by one. One of the suspects had left a week previously for a ten-day cruise in the Caribbean. Another was visiting a sick aunt in Alabama. The third had been struck off the list when it was found he was secretly having an affair with a young married woman from the other side of town. Sam could still feel the heat of the blush on his cheeks at the sounds they’d heard drifting from the bedroom of his house. Dean was right, Sam decided – people were crazy, especially people who used whips…
The fourth suspect had gone to the movies in the next town, and was staying overnight with a friend. That left the person they were currently watching as the most likely target for possession. Sam stifled a yawn and checked his watch. The luminous dial read 1:48am, and he thought wistfully of a warm bed and a soft pillow. “Sure keeps late hours,” he observed, inclining his head toward the dark shape beyond the curtains.
Sam and Harry had been sitting in the dark for just over two hours, watching the house. They had observed part of the suspect’s night-time ritual through the drapes as the occupant had moved back and forth, preparing and eating a late supper, cleaning up afterwards, and settling onto the couch, presumably to watch tv or read for awhile.
The young hunter pulled his jacket more tightly around his shoulders and shifted again, easing the strain on his legs. The figure hadn’t moved for just over three quarters of an hour, and Sam was beginning to wish that the demon would just hurry up and get on with it. He sighed softly.
Harry chuckled. “Exciting stuff, this demon hunting,” he whispered.
Sam couldn’t help but grin. He’d taken a liking to the two elder men in the short time he’d known them, and was glad of Harry’s company. They had found they had a few similar interests, and had amused themselves by playing a lively game of chess in their heads while they had eliminated the names of the loners list. “Yeah, well, be careful what you wish for, Harry.”
“Guess you’re right, Sam.” Harry gave a faint shudder as he remembered what it had been like having the demonic presence inside his head. He stared for a moment at the dark shape beyond the curtains. And grimaced as he felt a familiar pressure begin to build. “Ah, damn it.”
“Bathroom break.” Harry slowly got to his feet, careful to keep to the darker shadows. He gestured to the shape of the suspect across the street as he scooted behind a nearby tree to relieve himself. “About time our pigeon had one too.”
Sam grunted softly, his brows drawing together into a frown as he continued to observe the figure sitting as still as a statue in the softly lit living room. Slowly, a sense of unease pervaded his tall frame and he clambered to his feet, his jaw clenching as a terrible thought took shape. It just occurred to him that the person in the house had not made one move for over half an hour – not even to stretch. “Harry – zip it up and come on. I got a bad feeling.”
Hurrying through his business, Harry frowned in concern as he joined the tall young hunter. “What is it?”
“There’s been no movement – not even a little bit. No one sits that still, unless they’re unconscious, or dead.”
The stocky businessman paled as he hurried to keep pace with his long legged companion. “You think…”
Sam shook his head as he glided up the drive on silent feet. “Don’t know,” he whispered. I’m gonna take a look.” He stepped up to the door, and took a cautious look around before pulling his lock pick set out of his jacket pocket. Bending swiftly, he made short work of the lock and slowly pushed the door open just enough to slip inside.
Motioning for Harry to stay behind him, Sam palmed his .45 and gently flicked off the safety catch. He pulled his flask of holy water from his pocket, holding it in his left hand as he made his way to the living room. Pausing just outside the door, he glanced at his white-faced companion, nodded once and spun inside, his gun coming up to cover the room as his gaze zeroed in on the figure sitting on the couch.
Sam straightened to his full height and strode swiftly to the couch. He blew out an annoyed huff, dropped his flask of holy water back into his pocket, and poked at the dressmaker’s dummy topped by a wig stand in the shape of a human head that had been artfully arranged on the couch to make it look like a person to anyone watching from the outside. He turned to face his amazed companion. “We’ve been had.”
Harry opened his mouth to reply, and jumped as a huge explosion rocked the night. Car alarms and dogs went crazy, and a roiling ball of fire shot fifty feet into the air, illuminating the surrounding area with a lurid orange/yellow glow.
Sam’s face lost all colour as he stared out the window at the rising fireball. “Dean!” Spinning on his heel, the young hunter raced from the house.
* * * * *
His .45 in one hand, the silver flask of holy water in the other, Dean crept along the outside wall of the garage, keeping to the deeper shadows. Al trailed along behind, swallowing convulsively as he followed the tall hunter.
Hearing a soft scraping noise, Dean paused, holding his gun-filled hand up in a silent signal. Motioning for Al to stay back, he resumed his stealthy progress, halting at the corner of the building and peering cautiously around the back. Spotting a slight, dark figure stepping onto an upturned box to reach a window set high in the back wall, Dean lunged forward, snapping his left hand up and out in a smooth arc.
The demon-possessed figure hissed as the spray of holy water hit it squarely in the middle of the back. Fuchsia eyes glowing like neon signs, it spun on its heel and snarled at the tall hunter. “You!”
Flinging up a hand, the demon sent a demonic shove, staggering Dean off-balance. He stumbled sideways, flinging out his gun-filled right hand to catch the top of the nearby fence. Growling low in his throat, the hunter pushed off the fence and started back toward the waiting demon. “Son of a bitch!”
Metal screeched, and Dean’s eyes flew wide in shock as the big blue dumpster near the rear door shot toward him at breakneck speed. The breath was driven from his lungs, and he lost his hold on the gun as he was pinned between the dumpster and the unyielding fence. Writhing helplessly, he slammed his fists against the metal lid. “So – not – funny!”
Laughing coldly, the dark figure slipped through the jimmied window as Al raced around the corner.
“Son – of a – bitch,” Dean wheezed, pushing frantically against the chest-high dumpster. He glanced up, skewering the shocked little mechanic with a savage glare. “Al! Get – this – thing – off – me!”
“Oh, crap!” Al scurried over to the trapped hunter, and grasped the metal handle on the side of the half-full metal bin. He rocked back on his heels, tugging with all the strength of his wiry frame, flinching as he heard muted rattles and bangs issuing from inside the rear of the garage. “Did it…”
“Yeah,” Dean gasped. “Damn it!” The dumpster slid a scant few inches sideways, and he drew a heaving gulp of air into his straining lungs. Bracing himself as best he could against the fence, Dean shoved at the heavy metal bin as Al pulled from the other side. The dumpster slid a few more inches, and the tall hunter wriggled out from between it and the fence, cursing a blue streak.
Dean glanced up as he heard a soft scuffle, watching as the demon slithered out of the open window and landed on the upturned box. He glared at the demon as it smirked in triumph. “You son of a bitch!”
The demon held up a hand and jerked a thumb over its shoulder. “Better move, Winchester,” it hissed. “Things are about to get real hot around here.” Before either of the men could react, the shadowy figure sped away into the night.
“Holy crap!” Dean stared for a moment at the open window, before grabbing Al by the arm. He pushed the little mechanic before him as he sprinted for the street. “Move your ass, Al!”
“But, my garage…” Al protested weakly as he was hustled along.
“It’s too late!” Dean’s keen sense of smell had detected the raw stench of spilled gasoline wafting out through the open window. “Go, go, go!”
He was halfway across the street when a shattering roar erupted behind him. Dean felt a huge pressure wave hit his back and he was tossed into the air, losing his hold on Al’s arm as he flew. He tumbled helplessly end over end for a few breathless seconds before crashing heavily onto the unyielding ground. Stars flashed before his eyes, burning brightly against the huge fireball climbing to the sky. “Ohh, holy crap,” he mumbled woozily, before blackness crashed over him in a suffocating wave.
* * * * *
Sam slammed to a halt as he surveyed the devastation. Where the garage had once stood, there was now a raging inferno, splashing the street with a wildly dancing yellow glow as it licked up the pile of shattered timbers. He flinched as he heard a staccato popping from the centre of the blaze, and ducked down toward the ground. Harry grasped his arm and gestured at the inferno.
“Aerosol cans going off in the heat,” the businessman murmured, his voice reflecting the shock he was feeling.
Sam searched the surrounding area, and his heart leaped into his mouth as his frantic gaze homed in on the two figures sprawled haphazardly in the street. “Dean!”
Sprinting to his brother’s side, Sam carefully checked for any obvious injuries before rolling Dean gently onto his back. “Dean! Come on, man, wake up!”
Harry knelt at the side of a weakly moving Al, his concerned gaze meeting Sam’s as sirens wailed in the near distance. He helped his friend to his feet, wrapping an arm around Al’s waist as the little mechanic swayed like a reed in a gale. Harry glanced again at Sam as the young hunter tried in vain to wake his unconscious brother. “Sam?”
Sam shook his head, running his hands over his brother’s ribcage. “Don’t think anything’s broken – except for his head. Let’s get the hell out of here.” He slid his hands under Dean’s shoulders, sitting him up carefully. Dean’s body flopped about like a rag doll, his mouth falling slightly open. Sam grinned weakly as he pulled at his sibling’s arms, hoisting Dean’s unresisting form across his shoulders. “Don’t you drool on me, big brother, or I’ll never let you live it down,” Sam gasped as he staggered to his feet.
Leading the way, Harry made for the motel as fast as he could go, sensing that Sam didn’t want to be caught by the authorities at the scene of the latest explosion. It was probably not a bad idea, he mused, casting a glance at his silent buddy. The first thing the cops would probably do would be to detain Al as a prime suspect. Harry scanned the street, seeing people stumbling half-asleep from their homes to stare at the blaze. Luckily they were too interested in finding out what all the fuss was about to notice the four men heading rapidly away from the burning garage. The stocky businessman breathed out a sigh of relief as he turned the corner and ducked down a tiny alley. “Sam, this way.”
Nodding his assent, Sam headed after the local men, shifting his brother a little so Dean’s ribcage wasn’t digging quite so painfully into his shoulder. A few minutes later he heaved a sigh of relief as they came to the other end of the alley, and he found himself two streets away from the motel.
No one was in the parking lot as the men made their way to the Winchesters’ room. Harry did the honours of unlocking the door, and Sam groaned as he carefully lowered his brother onto the bed nearest the door. He sat on the edge, rolling his head and shoulders to ease the stiffness in his muscles as Harry guided a still groggy Al to the tiny couch on the other side of the room.
Dean groaned his way to consciousness and peeled his eyes open. A blurred face hovered above him, topped by a tousled mop of chestnut hair, and he groaned again, hurriedly closing his eyes. “I better see a hot chick when I open my eyes again,” he muttered.
“Hilarious, Dean.” Sam took the damp washcloth Harry held out to him and began to clean the thin trickle of blood flowing from his brother’s scalp.
“Just hold still.” The young hunter drew in a deep breath. “So – guess you didn’t stop the demon in time.”
Dean opened one eye and squinted at his sibling. “No, Einstein, we just let him blow up the garage for kicks.”
Harry glanced up from across the room. “He always like this?”
“Pretty much.” Sam ducked a clumsy swat and grinned faintly. “All right, so we know who it is. Unless Ukobach’s jumped again.”
Al moaned piteously and dropped his head into his hands. “My garage…”
“So, who was it?” Dean growled. “Tell me so I can seriously kick the son of a bitch’s ass. It was too dark to see who it was back at the garage.”
“Mrs Tremayne,” Harry stated flatly. “Ukobach’s possessing Adele Tremayne.”
The elder hunter’s green eyes flew wide in shock. “Mrs Tremayne’s Bridal Wear Mrs Tremayne?”
“The one and only.” Harry met Al’s stunned gaze. “We were watching her house, thought she was still inside. But she’d set up a dressmaker’s dummy and a wig stand to make it look like she was sitting on the couch. She got away from us.”
Dean looked askance at his sibling, who shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny and kicked at the carpet. “A dressmaker’s dummy?”
“Shut up,” Sam muttered. “Anyway, she got past you, too.”
Al shook his head slowly, disbelief etched into every line of his seamed face. “Adele Tremayne blew up my garage? Thank God her George isn’t still alive to see that…”
Rubbing at his bruised chest, Dean slowly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Yeah, and she’s been workin’ out, too. She shoved a freakin’ dumpster at me – had me pinned to the fence.” He looked at his brother, and his eyes narrowed in determination. “We gotta get this hell spawn.”
Sam nodded and patted his pockets as he stood up, checking that his flask of holy water was still secure. “All right. Let’s go find her.”
* * * * *
“You know, there’s something weird about this gig,” Sam muttered softly. He scanned the street ahead of the quartet before turning his gaze toward his brother.
Dean’s jaw dropped. “Sam, we’re hunting a lonely, pink-eyed demon who’s two feet tall, shoves people around, and likes to blow up empty buildings. What could possibly be weirder than that?”
“It – um – well, yeah, I know, but…” Sam fluttered his hands helplessly. “Okay, maybe it’s not so weird, then,” he admitted in defeat.
“What, already?” Dean rolled his eyes as they came to a halt on the sidewalk outside Mrs Tremayne’s home.
“This demon. Man, it’s like nothing we’ve ever seen, or heard of. I mean; demons create death and destruction. This one just creates destruction. No one’s been hurt so far – not even the people he’s possessed. Even us – I mean he knocked us out, but then he just ran off. It’s just weird, Dean.”
“Huh. Well, he’s still not gonna go on my Christmas card list.” Pulling his lock pick set from his pocket, the elder hunter glanced over his shoulder at their two companions. “You two stand guard out here. Sam and I’ll go in and have a look around.”
The two hunters quickly searched the house, finding it empty. Dean couldn’t fight back a smirk as he passed through the living room and spotted the wig-topped dummy propped on the sofa. “Dude, she’s definitely your type. You should ask her out.”
“Bite me.” Sam ran a hand through his hair, and glanced at his sibling. “Any bright ideas as to where she went, genius?”
“Hey, you’re the one in charge of the Lonely Hearts Club, geekboy. You tell me.” Dean spread his hands, and winked at his brother’s annoyed snort. He opened his mouth to add another snarky comment, quickly closing it as he heard a wild yell from the sidewalk. “Crap!”
Dean bolted from the house, with Sam hard on his heels.
* * * * *
Harry scuffed at the pavement with the toe of his shoe as he glanced around the deserted street. His gaze met the faded grey eyes of his friend, and he smiled wanly. “Hey, Al – you okay, buddy?”
Rubbing at his lined face, the wispy mechanic sighed heavily. “Harry – this is one weird night.”
“You’re telling me. And those boys – well, it’s just another day at the office for them.”
“Hmph.” Al folded his arms and looked around, his eyes narrowing as he spotted a shadowy figure drifting along the sidewalk across the street. The figure halted, turning its head toward the waiting men, and it hissed, its eyes glowing in the pale light cast by the nearby streetlamp. Al’s jaw dropped, and then he folded his hands into fists as anger roared through his slight frame. “You son of a bitch!” he screeched, leaping across the road, his fists raised as he rushed the demon-possessed woman. “I’ll kill you!”
* * * * *