Supernatural: One Year Gone (31 page)

Sam and Samuel looked at Dean passed out at their feet.

“Now what are we supposed to do?” Samuel asked.

“Lisa and Ben are in there somewhere,” Sam said.

“We can’t waltz in there and save them—they’ll shit their pants,” Samuel pointed out.

“I can’t. But you can. They don’t know who you are.”

“Sam, I don’t think you understand the gravity of the issue here. There are—I don’t know how many witches in there, one man can’t do anything. I don’t even know what Dean was thinking. He’d get skinned alive. You can’t let him go in alone.”

Sam looked down at his older brother. Blood trickled from his nose onto the cement.

“We can’t leave him here,” Samuel went on. “They’ll find him. We need to wake him up.”

Two minutes later they had opened up a BMW, hot-wired the engine and placed Dean in the front seat. They set all the air conditioning vents toward his face, and blasted the cold air at him. Sam poured a bottle of water over Dean’s head.

They then retreated back through the steel doors and opened the second door on the other side of the hallway, stepping into a musty-smelling tunnel with a packed dirt floor, and brick archways that reached across the low ceiling. Stale air washed over them from the dark depths further down the tunnel. Samuel pulled a flashlight from his jacket and Sam led with his gun. As they moved forward, the tunnel seemed to drop downhill, deep into the earth. Sam estimated that they were directly underneath the large brick building. He looked at his cell phone, there was absolutely no reception.

They crept forward in the darkness, until around a corner the tunnel opened up into a large underground cavern. Lamps hung from the ceiling and a crowd of witches was gathered in the middle of the space. They all moved with purpose as though each had been assigned a task. They seemed to be constructing something.

Aware of their exposed position, Sam looked round for a better hiding place. He noticed a narrow passageway built into the thick walls that seemed to cut through toward the main cavern. It looked like the vestiges of another old passageway system. Sam and Samuel squeezed through the narrow gap. They shuffled down the tunnel until they came to a small opening cut into the wall which allowed them to see into the large cavern.

“I don’t see Lisa or Ben,” Samuel whispered.

Sam didn’t respond, because he had spotted Prudence. She stood slightly apart from the rest of the witches, who witches were gathered in a circle. A tall woman stood on a platform. She was chanting from a small book.

“That’s it,” Samuel said. “That’s the
Necronomicon.
We can’t let her get through the entire spell.”

Sam didn’t answer.

“Sam, are you listening?” Samuel hissed.

Sam glared his grandfather.

“Yes, I get it. We can’t let them finish.”

Sam stared at the book in the tall witch’s hands. What he couldn’t tell his grandfather was that he didn’t care. If Lucifer took back control over his body in some ways he would welcome it. When Lucifer was in him, for the couple days before he fell into the pit, Sam had never felt so powerful. Lucifer was so strong that being filled up by him completely obliterated any need to care about or love anything. The feeling of literally being able to rule the world was exquisite. Addictive. No other human being on earth had ever felt what Sam had.

For that reason, in some ways, he would welcome that feeling again. Being squished into a dirt-packed hole underground with his cranky once-dead grandfather, waiting for his heartbroken and desperate brother to come and stop a bunch of witches from resurrecting Lucifer... wasn’t one of Sam’s favorite moments.

Dean awoke wet and cold with his head pounding. He opened his eyes and clocked the unfamiliar dash of an unfamiliar car. There was a knock on the window. Dean turned and looked into the face of an extremely angry-looking man clutching a computer case and a suit jacket.

“Hey you, junkie. Get the hell out of my car,” the man yelled. He wrenched open the door and pulled Dean out of his seat by his collar.

Dean stumbled and fell into the vehicle in the adjacent space.

“I don’t know why management doesn’t take care of the trash like you,” the guy spat. He got into the driver’s seat and slammed his door, then screeched out of the parking lot.

Dean noticed his reflection in the dark window of the mini van he was leaning against. His bruised nose was developing a hideous purplish welt. He had no idea what had happened, but since he was still alive, Dean thought it best to move forward. He checked his guns, they were all still there, still working.

This time, he was slightly more cautious as he pushed open the steel doors. Inside, several cars were parked. Dean instantly recognized Perry’s. He made sure that no one else was hiding in the room, then he passed through the opposite door and into a damp underground tunnel.

The tunnel was dangerous, there was nowhere to hide if anyone approached from behind or in front of him. Only the darkness would obscure him. In the distance he could hear the murmuring of voices. Dean crept forward down the sloping dark tunnel.

After what felt like the length of two football fields, the tunnel turned a corner and Dean smelled smoke and found himself looking into a deep cavern and a crowd of witches all chanting in unison.

The figures, all clad in black, encircled a large bonfire. He could see Connie standing on a platform. She was leading the chant from the
Necronomicon.
Perry stood to the side.
She must have fobbed off the cops and then come straight here,
he figured. Lisa and Ben must be somewhere nearby though he couldn’t see them.

The bonfire smoke curled up toward the vaulted stone ceiling. Dean estimated the ceiling was about two stories tall but who knew how far underground they were. It would be pretty impossible to mount a large-scale attack from above. Plus, Dean was pretty sure they were almost directly underneath the large community pool.

He looked around the hallway, which was built large enough for a horse cart. Dean had an idea and ran back up the tunnel.

Inside the smoky cavern Lisa and Ben were shackled to the stone wall. Ben whimpered in fear. Lisa tried to soothe her son, but she could only move her hands enough to touch the tips of Ben’s sweaty fingers.

“Shush, Ben. It’s going to be okay,” Lisa whispered.

“I never should have gotten that second helping of fries. Perry is evil.”

“This isn’t your fault, Ben. None of this is your fault. We’re going to find a way out of this. I promise.”

“How? Where’s Dean?” Ben demanded.

“He’s coming, honey. He’s coming,” Lisa said, hoping that she was right.

* * *

Dean retreated back to the low-ceilinged hallway where Perry’s car was parked. He opened up the back of the car and was relieved to find his duffle. He got out his two sawed-offs, made sure they had real bullets in them and then opened up the steel doors leading back into the parking lot. He hopped into the driver’s seat of Perry’s car, swiftly got the engine going and backed the Escalade into the parking lot. He laid the condo development plans on the seat beside him, tracing the route until he found the building he was looking for.

His headache was receding and he felt a new burst of energy now that he had a plan. Dean accelerated out of the parking lot and headed to the maintenance building. He maneuvered the Escalade up to the garage doors. Inside he found entire barrels of fertilizer, gas and other chemicals—all the gear the maintenance crew needed to keep up the grounds, stacked right up to the ceiling.

Thanking God it wasn’t kill-the-weeds day so the place was deserted, Dean hastened to load the large cans of gas and sacks of fertilizer into the back of the car. Then he swung the car back around and retreated with his bounty back to the parking garage.

Dean drove through the first set of steel doors and then opened up the second set of doors leading to the underground tunnel. Hoping his estimations were correct, he flicked on his headlights, gunned the engine and floored it through the doors.

The tires hit the dirt floor of the tunnel and threw the car forward. The tunnel flew by. Dean steeled himself for the turn—the dirt walls didn’t afford him any room for mistakes. Mere seconds flew by. Dean held his breath then cut the wheel.

The back wheels fishtailed, and then bumped the truck forward. Dean gripped the steering wheel, punched the accelerator and bombed into the cavern and straight into the crowd of witches.

He stamped on the brakes before he drove into the bonfire. A cacophony of screaming witches shook the cavern. Dean pulled himself out through the sunroof and stood on top of the car. He started shooting.

The women flew at the car, old and young alike they attacked, lips peeled back as they snarled angrily. Dean blew away body after body.

Constance had stopped chanting and stood on her platform scowling. Three of her burly farm hands approached the car, Dean got one shot off before they grabbed him by the foot and pulled him off the roof. The six-foot drop landed him on his back.

Constance stepped off her platform and walked over to Dean. She towered over him.

“I’m not into this whole two girls one cup angle, could you maybe move?” Dean said.

Constance kicked him in the ribs. Dean rolled over and blood dribbled out of his mouth.

“I don’t find you funny,” she said. “But I’m delighted you’re here. It is very appropriate that a descendant of those who ruined my quest the first time, will be sacrificed when I succeed this time.”

Dean struggled onto all fours, spitting blood, and looked up at Constance.

“I don’t know what kind of junk you’ve been smoking,” he croaked, “but raising Lucifer is just about the worst idea I’ve ever heard. Trust me.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion. All I need is your blood. Tie him up with the others,” Constance instructed.

The burly guys dragged Dean by the feet into a corner where he saw to his relief that Lisa and Ben were shackled. They might be prisoners but they were still alive and apparently unhurt.

Lisa glared at Dean.

“This was your idea of a rescue?” Lisa said. “To drive into a cave full of witches without any backup?”

“I didn’t have much of choice, Lisa. Sort of light on brothers to back me up. It’s not like I can go out and hire anyone to help,” Dean replied.

The burly guys finished shackling Dean to the wall, then walked away.

“It’s fine anyway, I have an idea,” Dean said, trying to sound confident.

“I’m not feeling so fine,” Lisa said.

Constance stepped to the edge of the platform and hushed the gathering. She raised her hands up in supplication and began to speak. Her ice-cold voice echoed loud and clear around the walls.

“To all my sisters, we have waited years. The time is nigh. Our great Princes will rise up and under our power create the world in their image. Darkness will reign. No longer will we have to live in the shadows. Sisters, since we came to this land we have suffered and cowered in the corners. Never gaining the respect or the resplendence we are due. After three hundred years the alignment is clear. Sixty-six seals were broken and though the Prince of the South was returned to the underworld—his resurrection is imminent. We will finally have the dark power to create a New World in which we can live freely without the reigns of the light and the Godly. As we go forth, spread the darkness before you like seeds, dear sisters. We are the chosen queens of darkness. The power is ours for the taking. We are the spouses of the Four Princes, and they will do our bidding and build the world of dark, crushing the light. Bring forth the first sacrifice.”

A scream echoed through the cavern. A young girl, presumably the one from the Amber alert Dean had heard on the trucker’s radio, was dragged up to the platform. Constance began her chant one again. With one hand she brought out a long knife, with the other she held the neck of the girl over a large brass bowl.

“Close your eyes, Ben,” Dean said. “Now.”

Ben squeezed his eyes shut. The girl continued to scream.

The rest of the witches joined in the chanting, louder this time, their voices echoed off the walls so the noise was unbearable.

Dean tried to move closer to Ben as the boy started to visibly shake with fear. Dean looked at Lisa and saw her eyes were full of tears. The guilt squeezed his chest—how could he have let this happen?

Constance shouted over the chanting and the girl’s hysterical screams.

“We call forth the Four Princes of the Darkness. The rulers of Hell, the sons of darkness. Rise up from your unearthly shackles. We call forth and command you to rise. We call all the forces of darkness to rise. To the prince of the North, Belial, I command you to rise. I invoke thee. I summon thee. I conjure thee. With this life blood, manifest thyself. With this sacrifice, manifest thyself. Come forth, Belial. Come forth, Belial.”

The girl fought like a young goat, but Constance held her firmly by the nape of the neck and in one deft cut she slit the girl’s throat from side to side. Lisa whimpered and buried her head in her chest.