SFSD X

Sam Strikes Back - part 2 (2.2)

The next day, Sam was back at the library, ploughing through old books and newspapers. It was late night closing, the gas lamps were on, and Sam decided to stay until he had the answer.

He looked up as Dean entered the library and strode over to his side.

"I think I've found it," said Sam.

He thrust a faded newspaper under Dean's nose. "I've found it. I think. Way back in 1885. It all started when the Isere, a French ship carrying the Statue of Liberty, sunk in the Atlantic."

"The what?" asked Dean impatiently, only half listening. This wasn't the time for a history lesson. Drew was downstairs waiting for them and he wanted to wind Sam up and get moving.

"Some French guy built this huge statue as a present to America. It was supposed to stand in new York Harbour for every new arrival to see—a symbol of liberty. But it never got here, it sunk. But that's not the important thing. What matters is who else was on that boat. Edison and Tesla, two men who were trying to develop an alternative energy to steam power. But when they went down with the boat, the project died with them."

"An alternative to steam power? Sounds like science fiction," laughed Dean.

"I'm not completely sure that was the beginning, though," said Sam, turning back the pages of even earlier newspapers. "I mean, I'm guessing that was important, but... Why were both men on the boat in the first place...?" His voice trailed away as he lost himself in the pages in front of him.

Restless, Dean wandered over to the window and looked out over the darkened town. He sucked in his breath.

"Got it!" said Sam, at exactly the same moment Dean said, "We've got trouble."

"What do you mean?" asked Sam.

"We've got company," said Dean, grimly. He gestured to the window.

Sam got up and went to join him. He stared, unable to believe his eyes.

Demons swarmed the streets of the small town. Some wore heavy black cloaks, dark and threatening. Most, even more alarmingly, were dressed in ordinary clothes—jeans, shirts, short dresses. They sniffed the air, pausing outside doors and windows. Hunting for prey. Or were they hunting for Sam?

Dean stood back against the wall, peering down through the second floor window, into the street below. If only he had his Demon Colt, he could have taken down a dozen before they reached the front door. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed as he tried to follow the demons' progress through the night. The only light came from the full moon and the glow of blood red eyes.

"We need to get out of here," urged Dean. "Bring whatever it is you've found with you and let's go. Drew's got the Colt with him downstairs, but he won't be able to hold them off for ever."

As he spoke, a shot rang out from the floor below and a demon wearing a red skirt and a fluffy lemon coloured jumper disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"There are too many of them," said Sam in a flat tone. "I'm going to call on Castor and ask him to take me back to 1885. I've got to try and fix this at the source."

"You're going to stop that boat from sinking?" asked Dean, raising his eyebrows.

"No. I'm going to an English football match," Sam answered. He showed Dean the faded photo. "On the fourth of April 1885, Queen's Park football club defeated the favourites, Blackburn Rovers, six goals to nil. There was a riot."

Dean looked utterly confused. "So?"

"One of Queen's Park's biggest supporters, Lord Louis De'Mond, made a fortune at the time, betting against the odds. He went on to become the owner of the club, but not only that, he was a keen advocate of the new energy source called 'electricity.' He paid for Edison and Tesla to come to London to discuss their theories with him, promising to provide financial backing if he liked what they presented."