Chapter Fifteen

Leaving Scheckly's grisly remains where he'd been killed, Sam and Faith knew they didn't have much time.

The shotgun blasts might have alerted someone concerned enough to call the police and then their access to the house would be lost for days. Sam's instincts told them they didn't have that much time. While Faith took the upstairs, Sam concentrated his efforts on the first floor. She suggested that he look in Scheckly’s study, directing him to the books she had been unable to read, believing he might have better luck.

As he stepped into the room with its musty smell of books and yellowed papers, Sam scanned the room, taking it in and committing all the details to memory. While Dean relied on instinct to navigate most situations, Sam relied on methodical observation. He processed information faster and was able to sift through it with an eye for the fine details. He knew he could string together the obscure to produce something tangible and as Sam swept his gaze across the room, he prayed that skill could be employed to unlock Scheckly's secret location of the cube.

The thing that stuck out first was the video tape. It sat atop a nest of papers which when Sam picked it up, noted were bills and receipts from the various purchases made by the store. The words 'security' was scrawled along the spine and Sam held onto to it, planning to view it later when he had opportunity because it seemed so out of place in the room. Why would Scheckly bring it home and not leave it at the store? What was on it that he planned to view it in the privacy of his home?

Sam turned away from the roll top desk and went to examine the books that Faith had pointed out. They were all leather bound editions of classics. Moby Dick, Vanity Fair, the Count of Monte Cristo. If this was his private collection, then it appeared that Scheckly had a taste for good literature. Sam’s gaze rested on the books Faith had pointed out and noted they were in Latin. He recognised the titles; De Nigromancia, Ars Notaria and Le Dragon Rouge. These were books that had been in Bobby’s collection and he’d become familiar with the volumes over the years.

Believing he had gleaned everything of value from the room, Sam was about to join Faith upstairs when his eyes grazed a particular title on the shelf. The Call of Cthulhu by HP Lovecraft. Sam frowned at the sight of it. He knew the title and recalled that it was a short story, part of the series of called the Cthulhu Mythos. It wouldn’t be in a book by itself. Reaching for it, Sam pulled it out by the spine and found that it wasn’t a book at all but rather a box. Flipping open the cover, he saw within the hollow space was the cube.

Scheckly must have stashed it here when he got back, Sam decided.

Remembering what had resulted the last time he’d touched the thing, he made no effort to remove the object from its place in the box. Instead, he closed the lid and tucked it under his arm, just in time to hear the distant whine of police sirens penetrate the night air. They were not far off and were getting closer by the minute. Stepping out of the room, he called out. “Faith!”

She was already coming down the stairs having heard the sirens herself. Her footsteps hasty as she pounded down the staircase to meet him in the vestibule. “You find anything?” She asked. “Cos we gotta go.”

“I found it,” he nodded, gesturing to the box in his hand. “But we can’t leave the cops to find Scheckly, they’ll freak.”

“I know,” Faith agreed and looked around, an idea forming in her head. “I got it,” she declared and hurried off in the direction of the kitchen.

Sam followed to find her bending over the gas stove when he entered. She turned the series of dials against the white enamel and gas hissed out from the open valves. Reaching inside her jacket pocket, she pulled out a set of matches and lit one, leaving it against the kitchen table. As the single match burned, continuing its journey to the others in the pack, Sam watched her do this and wanted to protest. However the increasingly loud sound of sirens in the background told him they didn’t have a choice. The cops finding Scheckly’s body was not an option and they didn’t have time to remove it and dispose of the remains themselves.

“This used to be our house you know,” Sam said quietly as he saw her creating the makeshift detonator. “My parents lived here, I lived here after I was born and mymom died here.”

“I’m sorry,” Faith replied hurrying to him and taking his arm, ushering him out of the house. “That’s rough but you know as well as I do, this is the only way.”

“I know,” he nodded and let her lead him to the back door where she’d entered the building in the first place. “It seems like this house always draws ugly crap to it no matter who’s living here. I guess this is one way to make that stops forever.”

Dean had never liked coming to Lawrence because of the memories attached to this house and he suspected, his brother would have less difficulty with this than he currently did. Sam’s attachment to the house was because it was here, he had seen his mother for the first time. Even in a ghostly form, she was so beautiful, so kind and she loved him. Despite the fact that he had cost Mary her life, shestill loved him.

Shaking off the sadness running through him at that, they both ran out the back door and hurried across the empty back yard just as the fumes of gas finally reached the matches.

The explosion that erupted through the house was immense. Both Sam and Faith were almost to the street when the gas ignited. Columns of flame surge out of the windows, shattering glass and incinerating what curtains and blinds hung there. The walls of the house shuddered, some parts of it gave way entirely, exploding outward in hail of burning timber and mortar. Debris scattered across the lawn, igniting bushes and plants surrounding the house. The sky came alive with amber radiance as they ran towards the Impala.

Neighbours had started to emerge from their houses by the time Sam and Faith had climbed back into the car. Wasting no time, he turned the ignition and gunned the engine. Wanting to be neither identified by the neighbours nor seen by the police as they fled the scene, Sam sped the Impala down the street and was out of sight before the first neighbours had a chance to process what had happened.

“So what now?” Faith asked now that they had made good their escape. Faith had decided that Sam was the brains of their little rescue operation since he seemed to know what he was doing. Not that she was a novice either but he struck her as a planner. Faith tended to give way to those with a better strategic mind than her since her plans usually involved striking hard and fast, without thought to the consequences.

“We go back to the antique store,” Sam replied. “I’m guessing if there’s anything left for us to figure out how to use this box, it will be there. Besides, the cops will shifting through the wreckage for a while before they get around to the store. We’ve got a couple of hours.”

“Okay,” Faith nodded. She gazed out the window at the neighbourhood they were passing, taking in the view of dark suburbia as they drove by, admiring the manicured lawns and the houses that all looked indistinguishable from one another. “I’m sorry about the house.” She confessed, throwing him a sidelong glance.

Sam did the same, noting the genuine emotion in her eyes. “Hasn’t really been ours for a long time. My dad moved us out of Lawrence when I was barely a year old,” he explained as they turned another corner, further and further away from the burning house. Behind them, they heard a fire truck scream through an intersection. Sam waited until the low whine died before he continued, “Never really had a home except maybe this car.”

“Home is over rated,” Faith replied automatically, glancing over her shoulder to see more emergency vehicles heading towards Scheckly’s home. “I had a house but it wasn’t much of a home, just a place I couldn’t wait to get away from. It’s the people that matter most, not geography.”

“Yeah I got that eventually,” he tossed her shy smile, “though it took a while to sink in. I always wanted normal, you know? The job, house, family, that sort of thing.” Whether or not she could see in his eyes just how badly he’d wanted it, Sam couldn’t say so he continued. “The way things played out, it’s never going to happen. The harder I try to make it happen, the worse things get.”

Faith didn’t speak for a moment, feeling sad for him that he’d given up any hope of having that life. The body swap she’d done with B had been an eye opener. She’d always thought she wanted what Buffy had until she realised how damn hard that was too. B didn’t have it any easier than her, Faith realised and once she understood that, she was able to come to terms with her own sins and make an attempt at redemption. Of course key to that had been Angel. Sam Winchester was so very much like him, it hurt. He wanted the same things as she did and like Angel, he’d resigned himself to never having it.

“Let me guess,” she said meeting his gaze briefly, “It led you down a road that had some pretty bad choices?”

Sam shot her another look, wondering if Buffy had told her about Lucifer and then realising that she’d come to that conclusion on her own because there was more empathy in her eyes at that moment than since he’d met her. Maybe she knew intimately, what he meant. “Yeah, some pretty bad ones.” Trusting Ruby, drinking demon blood, unleashing Lucifer and of course, abandoning his brother to Purgatory.

“Yeah,” she smiled, “done that too. Look man, I don’t what your sitch is but if you don’t mind some advice, let it go. Do the thing you’re good at, try and do it right and I find that the normal you want will come along anyway. It could even be better than the Norman Rockwell you got going on in your head. I wanted what B had, the friends and the family and I screwed so bad I almost didn’t crawl out of it. A friend helped me get back on my feet, help me make right some of my mess and things got better. You gotta accept what you are, whatever that might be and run with it. It’s the trying to be something you’re not that just makes you screw up.”

A lot of what she’d said, Sam had already made peace with but hearing her say it without the sometimes self-righteous tone Dean sometimes used, not to mention the revelation that she’d been in the same place, touched him on a deeper level. “Thanks,” he said genuinely affected. “I think you’re right. I think it’s the need that keeps me making mistakes. I’ve just got to let it go, focus on what I’ve got.”

“Attaboy,” Faith winked at him. “Let’s get B and your bro back and then we can remiss about our screw ups together over a tequila and angry sex.”

Sam did a double take and found himself turning a shade red. The girl was coming on strong but then again, Sam tended to like that, though very often he was never sure what to do with it.

“Uh right,” Sam answered, wishing that he had Dean’s way with words right now.

*****

“Move your ass woman before this son of a bitch bites it off!”

“Are you telling me I’m slowing you down!?” Buffy shouted indignantly as she kept in stride with him as they raced down the long corridor, trying to outrun the several tonnes of beast behind them.

“No!” Dean shouted back as he made sure she was still on his flank. “I’m saying you run like a girl!”

Even though she was panting, Buffy‘s jaw dropped open in outrage anyway.

“If we get out of this, I am never sleeping with you again!” Buffy swore at him.

"Ha!" He tossed her a smirk knowing better.

Buffy ran after him, wondering if he knew he didn’t just have one dangerous creature running him after him.

As it was, Buffy was frantically trying to think of some way to escape this situation. There was no place to hide, nothing to do but keep running. She glanced over her shoulder and wished she had not because the demon was still bearing down on them and they had no choice to keep running or die. They’d been maintaining this pace for a good twenty minutes now and the demon, the same kind that Mayor Richard Wilkins III had transmogrified into, had yet to relent or slow its pace.

In Sunnydale, they’d identified the thing as an Olvikan demon and it had taken nothing short of several tonnes of explosives to kill it. Back then, Buffy had only to run through the high school to escape it, now they were trapped in this weird place and even with her Slayer endurance, Buffy didn’t know how long either of them could maintain this pace without one of them faltering.

Dean had fought a lot of creatures before. In Purgatory, he had met all kinds of different monsters, condemned to languish in the same prison since the beginning of the time. Leviathans, shifters, vampires, demons but nothing even came close to this thing for sheer size. Ironically, because of his time in Purgatory, Dean had managed to keep up with Buffy and in some instances even out pace her. After a year of constant running to escape one monster or another, Dean had managed to build up his stamina.

Still, like Buffy, he knew they couldn’t keep this up indefinitely. He’d been egging her on with uncharacteristic insults, hoping her ire would maintain her adrenalin, to keep her from falling into exhaustion. She probably had more stamina than he but Dean was unprepared to let that fucking demon beat her. He’d die before he let that happen. If nothing else, he wanted to give her the chance to escape this place. He rather that then having to watch that ugly son of a bitch kill her in front of him.

Suddenly, Dean spotted something ahead that neither of them had seen until now.

The corridor was turning around a corner. They’d been walking for hours and had believed that the road ahead was straight, that this place which seemed to be some nightmare realm didn’t adhere to the conventions of the real world. Something as simple as turn in the endless corridor was enough to get Dean thinking. The window of opportunity to act was devastatingly narrow and whether or not Buffy had any ideas of how to use what ahead of them, Dean knew they didn’t have time to hash it out.

The idea that kept to him was part desperation and part crazy, Dean didn’t want to debate which was which at the moment, knowing it was their only shot if they wanted to survive the next hour.

“Keep running!” He ordered her as they approached the corner, “Go wide!”

“What?” Buffy demanded when Dean started to veer towards the wall, appearing as if he might run into the corner.

“JUST DO IT!” He barked.

Buffy cursed out loud and did as ordered, turning into the corner in a wide arc that ensured she was in the demons’ line of sight as it maintained its relentless chase. It slowed down a little to navigate the corner as its large bulk kept it from making a sharp turn quickly. The lag gave Buffy time to widen the gap between them. As she continued to run, she tried catching a glimpse of the wall so she could see where Dean had gone. What was he planning?

Since being trapped in this place with him, Buffy had learned to respect his skills not merely as a warrior but as an able strategist. He had the sharpest instincts of anyone she'd ever met and she wondered how much more formidable he would have been, if he had come equipped with slayer strength. Not that he needed it because if there was one thing Buffy had come to realise; Dean Winchester could hold his own in any fight.

Dean saw that Buffy had followed his instructions to ensure that the monster was so focussed on her that it had slithered right past him when they had turned the corner. With Buffy in its sights, the demon had not noticed Dean's absence which served him just fine. Thanks to the dim light in this spooky place, he remained concealed in the shadows until it was time for him to make his move. Once the serpent had rounded the corner and enough of it had slid past him, Dean emerged from the darkness. Running along its flank, Dean knew he had only a few seconds before the thing noticed him.

Buffy had come to the conclusion that while the demon might resemble the one she had fought in Sunnydale, it had none of the intelligence of Mayor Richard Wilkins. It was a monster with no trace of the human it had been its source prior to final transmogrification. The mindless beast was only interested in its prey which meant it had none of the Mayor’s emotional baggage. That meant it had none of the weakness she’d been able to exploit to defeat it. Despite seeing anything to suggest otherwise, Buffy worried about Dean. If he had a plan, he should have enacted it by now.

Please don't let it have hurt him, Buffy prayed silently. She could very well be in love with that stubborn, chauvinistic ass and losing him now so soon after finding him was more than Buffy could stand. Please don't let it hurt him the way it had murdered so many others on Graduation Day.

Dean was still running alongside of the demon that had yet to notice him. Putting on the speed into his strides, he made a running start and then launched himself at the demon’s flank. With the short dagger he had retrieved from his ankle holster, Dean drove the blade into the demon’s scaly hide all the way to the hilt. Embedded deep within the dark green scales, the dagger’s hilt provided Dean with a secure hold to haul himself the rest of the way until he was perched on top of the demon's spine.

The initial attack had slowed the demon down long enough to utter an indignant roar of pain before attempting to swat Dean off with its tail while still continuing after Buffy. Dean dropped down to avoid being swept off. When the tail retracted, he got to his feet again and swung the longer blade which, until now, had been secured to his back with his belt. He slashed at the tail, nicking the flesh enough to cause blood to splatter across its scales.

The demon let out another outraged roar except this time, it stopped chasing Buffy to deal with its unwanted passenger. To dislodge him off its back, it tried to roll over but when Dean drove the long blade into its spine and held on for dear life, the demon rolled back unto its belly unable to tolerate the pain. Dean clambered to this feet just in time to see it rearing its serpentine neck upright, its massive head turning in his direction with jaws widening and ready to lunge.

When Buffy realised that the demon had stopped chasing her, she stopped running and turned around to see why. Once again, her jaw drop open at the sight of the small figure on the creature's back. Jogging a little closer so that she could be sure of what she was seeing, Buffy felt the onset of a panic attack to see Dean sitting astride the thing riding a bronco at a rodeo.

The man was certifiable, she thought to herself as she took the chance to sneak up on the demon that was distracted by the rider on its back. It was snapping at Dean who swinging the blade like a sword, slashing at the creature’s face, preventing it from taking him whole.

Once she had closed the distance, Buffy used her own blade and thrust the point into the demon’s body, causing another screech of pain as it turned its neck to see where the second attack had come from. Buffy leapt out of the way, as its snapped at her, barely avoiding its massive jaws as she rolled across the floor to upright herself in time to slice through one of the bony protrusions on its skull. Splinters of bone and blood flew in all directions as she shattered one tusk. The demon reared its head up in agony, letting out another furious wail before lowering it’s to attack again.

Dean couldn’t help but grin as he saw Buffy slugging it out with the 60 foot monster.She looked freaking awesome, he thought as he watched her hack away at it like some cute blond Xena. Determined to help his girl, Dean pulled the long blade out of the demon’s bloody flesh and stabbed it again. It roared in pain once more but had no time to come after him because Buffy was on the offensive again, stabbing it in chest...belly... whatever she could reach. It didn't matter. What did matter was the fact the demon turned back to her, giving Dean the chance to pull out the gun he hadn’t used until now.

Taking aim at its skull, Dean started shooting. The first one struck the demon beneath the eye and black blood oozed immediately from of the wound. It howled in pain and struggled to react, twisting its neck left to right, trying to decide which attack to defend itself against. The sound of exploding shells were as much distraction as the bullets themselves. It rolled from side to side making another attempt to throw Dean off but he was able to avoid being tossed off. Regaining his balance, he resumed firing. Truth be told, he'd prefer something deadlier than the 9mm shells he was packing but a magazine carried 17 rounds and he was making every one count.

Something appeared at the rear of his peripheral vision and Dean ducked in time to avoid being flung off the snake’s back by its tail. It lashed at Dean with a powerful, deadly swipes but the attempts were becoming uncoordinated, reflex in reaction to the pain it was enduring. Dean was able to keep his balance and continued firing into the demon’s open mouth when it came at him again, emptying the entire clip. It pulled back sharply, its tusked head jerking wildly as the bullets tore through its flesh. As its jaws widened to roar, Dean saw the small bullet holes that had shredded the upper palette of the creature’s mouth. It began swaying its head from side to side, obviously in pain and giving Dean the time to retrieve his second and last magazine.

The demon continued to thrash. Trying desperately to dislodge him, the flaying tail slammed against the wall, impacting against the dark surface so hard that Dean swore he heard rock crack. Slapping the magazine into place, Dean resumed firing. It was becoming increasingly harder to shoot straight with the demon struggling more violently in its desperation to throw him off.

The tail came at him again and this time he barely sidestepped it as the head swung in his direction once more, attempting to take a bite out of him again. Dean lost his footing and went down, the gun clattering out of his hand as he slid off to the side. At the last minute, he caught hold of the dagger hilt he’d plunged in its side to climb on top of the creature in the first place. Hanging off the side, Dean struggled to climb back onto its back as Buffy continued to fight.

Until Dean had open fire, Buffy had been doing her best to keep the thing distracted, using the blade to take swings at the demon's skull when she wasn't stabbing at its elongated torso. The instant the sound of gunshots were heard, the demon forgot all about Buffy deeming her the lesser of two evils and went to deal with the enemy that was shooting at it. The thunderous roar of exploding shells not to mention the damage that Dean was doing told Buffy that he was driving the demon to an act of violent desperation. A creature most dangerous when it was on the defensive.

She saw the demon smashing its body against the wall trying to knock Dean off its back, while its tail swung at the hunter like a giant whip. The force of its bulk slamming against the seemingly impenetrable wall had actually caused damage with large chunks of rock breaking free and crumbling to the floor. The serpentine body impacted against the wall once more, bringing down a section of it in a dusty heap. When Buffy saw Dean go over, she ran after demon, trying to see where he had fallen.

“Dean!” She cried out and felt her heard freeze when he didn't answer. The demon's elongated neck was arched over the bloody mess of its back, its nostrils sniffing at something she was sure was Dean. Running forward, she jumped into the air, holding the blade above her head as she aimed its sharp point at the tallest part of its neck. The blade sank into its flesh just beneath the skull and was driven in deep by her weight. The blade slide in to the half-way point when that same weight began to pull Buffy towards the ground.

Gripping the blade tight in her hand, Buffy felt blood spray over her amidst the demon's shrill and agonized scream as she tore open its neck like she was pulling down a zipper. By the time, her feet had touched the ground, the creature had gone limp and with one final spasm, smashed against the broken section of the wall, its body draped over the jagged fragments as it died. Letting go of the blade finally, she dropped onto her feet and then on her ass, covered from head to toe in rank blood.

A few seconds later, she heard Dean’s voice.

“Counsellor!” He emerged from behind the dead carcass, hurrying towards her. Skidding to the ground, he was unhurt and more worried about her as he knelt down beside Buffy. “Are you okay? That was freaking awesome sweetheart!” Dean exclaimed, having witnessed how she killed the thing and was half crazed with relief, euphoria and just a little arousal.

"Am I okay?" She burst out, gesturing to herself. "Look at me!" She swatted his hand away when he reached for her. Slipping on the slick floor, he fell backwards on his butt, staring at her with bewilderment.

"THAT WAS YOUR PLAN?" She glared at him. "To jump on that thing like some rodeo clown! Are you freaking kidding me! You could have gotten killed, eaten. I’ve seen that thing swallow a whole principal…in ONE GULP!” She knew she was ranting but Buffy didn’t care. It infuriated her how frightened she had been for him and he was so damn casual about it all.

Recognising her tirade for what it was, Dean sat up and leaned forward, wiping the blood from her cheek, trying not smile. “Rodeo clown?” He quipped. "Darlin' that was pure Clint Eastwood. Besides it worked didn't it?" He gave her a little wink.

“Oh my God!” Buffy threw her hands up in exasperation. “You’re insane. You are absolutely certifiable. I can’t believe this,” she shook her head in disbelief and shouted to the gods as if they gave a rat’s ass about anything she had to say, "I am in love with a certifiable lunatic!”

Dean stopped short and stared at her, a slow smile stealing across his face as he slid an arm around her shoulder. "You love me?"

"Oh shut up," she grumbled and shoved him away again.

TO BE CONTINUED