Crossroad Blues
Demon Bait
Seven Years Later
Dean Winchester sat in the seat of his beloved Impala in the middle of the night. His brother, Sam, sat next to him, head resting on the window. Dean spared a glance at Sam and sighed before moving his gaze back to the house they were watching.
“What, Dean?” The brothers had been on edge with each other all day. Perhaps it was the small quarters. Perhaps it was something else. Maybe the fact Dean sold his soul to save Sam’s life, ultimately leaving Sam without his big brother, took some of the sparkle out of the relationship. No matter the reason, Sam and Dean were consistently at each other’s throats. Dean rolled his green eyes, keeping his eyes on the house.
“Why are we here? We burned the bones, the job is done.” Dean asked, looking back at Sam momentarily.
“Because I have a feeling it’s not done.” Sam spoke slowly, frustration laced through his words.
“Right, right,” Dean paused. “You sure it’s not that freaky ESP stuff?” Sam turned to glare at his brother.
“I’ve told you a hundred times, I don’t get the visions anymore. Not since Yellow Eyes died.” Dean nodded curtly, looking forward once more. Sam let a long breath he had unconsciously been holding and leaned his head against the cool glass again. Minutes full of silence crept by until suddenly, a scream cut through the air. The Winchesters jumped from their car, guns already in hand, and ran toward the door. Pausing only for Dean to boot the door, they held their guns at attention as they surveyed the living room. The room was empty and they had a moment to look at each other before another scream sounded.
Sam was the first up the stairs. He glanced at the pictures lining the hallway and allowed a second to wonder which member was in trouble. Was it the mother of three? Or was it the teenage son? One of the younger children? It didn’t really matter who it was. They’d save the family. That’s what the brothers do; save people.
They opened the first door on the right of the hallway and the mother stood, tears running down her face. At her back stood a figure hidden in the shadows. The brothers knew what they were looking at even before the figure moved into the light. His eyes shined a bright red and a grin flitted across his face.
“Let her go.” Sam spoke slowly, words laced with anger.
“Not likely, pretty boy.” The demon’s voice was almost painfully low. It seemed as if he searched for the most menacing vessel he could. The man stood a few inches taller than Sam, and as Sam was six-foot-four, this was no mean feat. He was bulky like a football player gone slightly to seed with some extra fat around the belly. But it seemed that the lesser the demon, the more they tried to play up the meat suit.
There was a crash behind the demon and its prey, causing the foursome to look toward the window at the far side of the room. A small woman crouched on broken glass that she obviously had come through. She smirked at the room with full lips and pounced on the man. The mother of three wiggled free from his grasp as the demon fell to his knees, the woman on his back. She slammed his head against the wooden floor as Dean took the mother’s forearms in his hands.
“Run.” He advised and she needn’t be told twice. Dean turned back to the mysterious woman as she recited something he recognized as an exorcism. Black smoke retreated from the man’s mouth and flew out of the broken window, leaving him to lay on the floor motionless. She got up from his back and looked at the brothers for the first time.
“What are you?” Sam asked.
“Well that’s rude. Who. Who am I.” She said, smirking once more. She was short, with coarse black hair, big brown eyes, and a southern accent. “I’m Rascal.”
“Dean.” She turned to Dean and looked at him, not like she was interested.
“Fascinating. I expect you boys will take care of Demon Bait over there?” She paused but not long enough for a response. “Thanks.”
She pushed past the men and out the door. The brothers stared after her for a moment and then looked at each other. It took a moment for Dean to find his voice once more.
“That was…” He trailed off, not knowing what to say.
“Scary?” His brother offered.
“Yeah, sure. We need to talk to Bobby.”
Dean Winchester sat in the seat of his beloved Impala in the middle of the night. His brother, Sam, sat next to him, head resting on the window. Dean spared a glance at Sam and sighed before moving his gaze back to the house they were watching.
“What, Dean?” The brothers had been on edge with each other all day. Perhaps it was the small quarters. Perhaps it was something else. Maybe the fact Dean sold his soul to save Sam’s life, ultimately leaving Sam without his big brother, took some of the sparkle out of the relationship. No matter the reason, Sam and Dean were consistently at each other’s throats. Dean rolled his green eyes, keeping his eyes on the house.
“Why are we here? We burned the bones, the job is done.” Dean asked, looking back at Sam momentarily.
“Because I have a feeling it’s not done.” Sam spoke slowly, frustration laced through his words.
“Right, right,” Dean paused. “You sure it’s not that freaky ESP stuff?” Sam turned to glare at his brother.
“I’ve told you a hundred times, I don’t get the visions anymore. Not since Yellow Eyes died.” Dean nodded curtly, looking forward once more. Sam let a long breath he had unconsciously been holding and leaned his head against the cool glass again. Minutes full of silence crept by until suddenly, a scream cut through the air. The Winchesters jumped from their car, guns already in hand, and ran toward the door. Pausing only for Dean to boot the door, they held their guns at attention as they surveyed the living room. The room was empty and they had a moment to look at each other before another scream sounded.
Sam was the first up the stairs. He glanced at the pictures lining the hallway and allowed a second to wonder which member was in trouble. Was it the mother of three? Or was it the teenage son? One of the younger children? It didn’t really matter who it was. They’d save the family. That’s what the brothers do; save people.
They opened the first door on the right of the hallway and the mother stood, tears running down her face. At her back stood a figure hidden in the shadows. The brothers knew what they were looking at even before the figure moved into the light. His eyes shined a bright red and a grin flitted across his face.
“Let her go.” Sam spoke slowly, words laced with anger.
“Not likely, pretty boy.” The demon’s voice was almost painfully low. It seemed as if he searched for the most menacing vessel he could. The man stood a few inches taller than Sam, and as Sam was six-foot-four, this was no mean feat. He was bulky like a football player gone slightly to seed with some extra fat around the belly. But it seemed that the lesser the demon, the more they tried to play up the meat suit.
There was a crash behind the demon and its prey, causing the foursome to look toward the window at the far side of the room. A small woman crouched on broken glass that she obviously had come through. She smirked at the room with full lips and pounced on the man. The mother of three wiggled free from his grasp as the demon fell to his knees, the woman on his back. She slammed his head against the wooden floor as Dean took the mother’s forearms in his hands.
“Run.” He advised and she needn’t be told twice. Dean turned back to the mysterious woman as she recited something he recognized as an exorcism. Black smoke retreated from the man’s mouth and flew out of the broken window, leaving him to lay on the floor motionless. She got up from his back and looked at the brothers for the first time.
“What are you?” Sam asked.
“Well that’s rude. Who. Who am I.” She said, smirking once more. She was short, with coarse black hair, big brown eyes, and a southern accent. “I’m Rascal.”
“Dean.” She turned to Dean and looked at him, not like she was interested.
“Fascinating. I expect you boys will take care of Demon Bait over there?” She paused but not long enough for a response. “Thanks.”
She pushed past the men and out the door. The brothers stared after her for a moment and then looked at each other. It took a moment for Dean to find his voice once more.
“That was…” He trailed off, not knowing what to say.
“Scary?” His brother offered.
“Yeah, sure. We need to talk to Bobby.”