"Don't give me that look. I'm not touching this one with a ten-foot pole."
Cracking open another empty car trunk I slam it shut with a furious bang. Spinning on the spot I round the yard to where Sam's searching his section of cars. "This is pointless!" I snap, worried and on edge over Bobby's disappearance "He might be crossing the border into another state by now Sam!"
"You said he disappeared in five minutes", Sam calmly addresses me as I run my erratic shaking hands through my hair. Waving his crowbar around, Sam rationalizes "He's here. I'm sure of it."
"Oh", I scoff cynically "If you're sure then why the hell am I panicking at all?"
Despite the dirty look Sam gives to my sarcastic expression he pops the trunk on another rusted red crushed sedan. I turn to wander back off into the yard before Sam is whistling. Hearing the short zip I pause my stride and spare him a careful glance over my shoulder. Sam all but turned to stone, he carefully motions towards a tower of three cars. Rolling my eyes I follow his hand only to see what Sam does. Water. It drips droplets from a side mirror attached to the top car.
But South Dakota hasn't seen rain in weeks.
He's trapped up there with a spirit. Running up to the tiers of cars Sam crouch's to hoist me up by my boot. Slamming the crowbar into the slat of the driver's door I give the metal a hard yank before the doors lock mechanism breaks. Gritting my teeth I haul open the door. Although I barely get a glimpse of the young, dressed up creepy twin girls before one sends me flying back. Thrown from the tiers my body crashes against a windshield, coughing when the air is slammed from my lungs.
Suddenly there is a flicker and one of the little girls appears over me. She watches me with hard dead eyes for only a second before disappearing in a swoosh of black smoke. Sam moves his hair from his face, dropping the crowbar in his grasp into the dirt with a weighty thud. Looking up to check Bobby's aright I see him driving an iron pole through the remaining twin who flickers away in an instant. Relief washing through me I collapse back against the smashed windshield, "Bobby you really need to consider a new address."
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"So they're all people we know?" Sam voices as we linger in the study, trying to understand what is happening. Apparently, Henriksen appeared to Sam at a rest stop on the route to South Dakota and Meg to Dean upstairs in Bobby's home. Scooting further up on Bobby's desk I scrunch my eyebrows as I feel a pinch in my back from the brutally smashing hit I took.
"Not just know", Dean points out from where he leans across the room against the archway with Sam "People we couldn't save."
"Talk about a list", I mutter, dropping my hands from my back "But why are they coming for vengeance now? I mean... what's changed?"
"Hey I saw something on Meg", Dean snaps his fingers, waving his hand in circles as if to jog his memory. After a moment he asks Sam "When she was alive did Meg have a tattoo?"
Furrowing his brows, Sam crosses his arms thoughtfully "I don't think so?"
"It was a mark. On her hand. Like a... a-", Dean continues to try and describe it for us.
"Like a brand?" I realize, having noticed the exact same thing on Nancy.
"I saw the mark too", Sam agrees with us "On Henricksen."
"What did it look like?" Bobby questions, pulling a couple thick old books from a shelf.
"You got some paper?" Sam questions wandering over to me. Nodding I reach behind me on Bobby's desk to grab him a pad and pencil "Thanks." Handed back over to Sam I peer curiously over the pad he's scribbling on. After a second of erratically quick scratching Sam holds the pad up to me, an expectant glimmer in his eye "This it?"
"Yeah", I give him a single nod, furrowing my eyebrows at the familiarity of the marking.
Pad raised over to Dean he sends Sam an agreeable nod "That's it."
The pad passed over to Bobby I observe the way he stares at the symbol for a long moment. "I may have seen this before", Bobby mutters, tossing the pad back on the desk. He barely lifts another book before the lights in the house flicker. A sign the ghosts are returning. Jumping from Bobby's desk my boots slam back on the hardwood with a bang as Bobby orders "We've got to move. Now."
Thick books are passed over to Sam as I take the salt shotgun Dean passes me, no far behind as we follow Bobby further inside the house. "Whoa- where are we going?" Sam tries to slow Bobby's roll, as we stride down the hallway.
Without a glance over his shoulder, Bobby gruffly snaps "Somewhere safe idiot!"
I'll admit I never thought we'd actually have to use the panic room I helped Bobby create. Never for a second did I think ghosts of our regret would begin rising to kill us. Leading Sam and Dean into the iron-plated room I haul the door shut after Bobby. Gripping the metal leaver tight I struggle for a moment before it is yanked down into place with an affirmative bang. Securing us inside. Backing away from the door I gaze around at what Bobby's done with the place. Bookshelves stacked with vital lore, a clean kept single bed, the dining table from upstairs turned into a desk. "Love what you've done to the place", I compliment Bobby, genuinely taking in the redecoration.
"Bobby" Sam voices hesitantly, gazing around with a look of awe "This is..."
"Solid iron", Bobby proudly taps against the metal wall "Completely coated in salt. Ghost proof."
With a sly smile, Sam realises "You built a panic room?"
"I had a weekend off", Bobby nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders under the brother's admirable gaze. With a nod in my direction, Bobby mentions "El wasn't doing much either. Thought I'd get some family bonding in."
"Wait a minute", Dean stops admiringly Bobby's filled arsenal which spans an entire wall, curiously motioning my way with a rifle "This is what you'd been up to when I came through on my way to see Bela?"
"Impressive huh", I slide my free hand into my pocket with a sly smile, tilting my head towards Bobby "And they say we're paranoid."
"Idjits."
"Bobby", Dean regains his attention, a grin spread across his lips as he raises the shotgun to motion around the room "You're awesome."
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Silently I pick at the edge of the lore book I've been flicking through searching for the meaning behind the symbol. I swear I've seen it drawn down somewhere before. Hours have passed and I'm still trying to help Bobby find the symbol. Considering the stack of five books beside me and eight beginning to tower beside Bobby it's beginning to appear like we're in for a long afternoon.
"See", Dean suddenly voices, shifting around in the wooden desk chair beside Sam "This is why I can't get behind God."
"What are you talking about?" Sam wonders, placing down the empty bullet from the rounds they've been creating for hours.
Where I've perched myself on the lone bed I lower the old lore book into my lap. Rested on the thigh of my leg tucked underneath me, my other dangles from the elevated bed. Noticing the look of curiosity wash over my features, Dean scrambles to explain "If he doesn't exist- fine. Bad crap happens to good people. That's how it is. There's no rhyme or reason- just random horrible evil. I can roll with that." Twisting further in his chair Dean tells us all, waving his hand over the back of the chair "But if he's out there... what is wrong with him? Where the hell is he while all these decent people are getting torn to shreds? How does he live with himself- I mean why doesn't he help?"
And that is what is making me not entirely buy into this entire Angel meal. Dean's right. If there is a God up there- a God who is said to love mankind and have his Angels watching over us- why hasn't he intervened to deal with the monsters and Demon's that have plagued the Earth? Why hasn't he sent his Angels down to take care of his creation? Has he just been sitting up there laughing at us this entire time as we struggle to maintain his mess? Dean tries looking for an answer from Sam or Bobby but both avert their gaze. Clearly they don't want to be giving him an opinion on the matter. Dean's gaze flickering to me I immediately shake my head, rolling my lip "Don't give me that look. I'm not touching this one with a ten-foot pole." When he rolls his eyes I quickly point out "I've barely got my head wrapped around the whole Angel existence and you want to start philosophizing about God and his intentions?" Dean stares for a long moment before swiveling back around in his chair and returning to the salt rounds.
Suddenly, Bobby blurts victorious "Found it." Tossing my book aside I bound across the room, leaning over his shoulder to ease my curiosity "The symbol you saw and the brand on the ghosts-"
"Mark of Witnesses" I thoughtfully hum, reading the title scripted beside the marking.
"Witnesses?" Sam pries as the boys come to join me in reading over Bobby's shoulder "Witnesses of what?"
"The unnatural", Bobby spins around in his chair, arm propped up against the second desk "None of them died what you would call ordinary deaths. See these ghosts were forced to rise. They woke up in agony. They were like rabid dogs." With a small dismissive shake of his head, I listen to Bobby explain "It ain't their fault. Someone rose them."
"But who could swing something like that?" Dean questions over my shoulder.
"Does it look like I know", Bobby scoffs absurdly "But whoever did the spell left a mark so powerful it branded their souls. Whoever did this had big plans." Stepping back I fold my arms across my chest listening to Bobby say "It's called the 'Rising of the Witnesses' Figures into an ancient prophecy."
"The Book of Revelations", I realize, snapping my fingers to gain everyone's pointed attention "I knew I recognized it from somewhere."
"Is that good?" Sam questions me, uneasily shifting on his feet "Or bad?
"Bad", I say, feeling my stomach beginning to twist "It's monumentally bad."
"I don't like that look", Dean points out, my expression not at all hiding how screwed we might be "What is it?"
"It's a sign", Bobby tells Dean and Sam, briefly glancing towards me when he says "A sign of the apocalypse."
From the way their jaws drop neither Sam nor Dean had even been close to assuming that. "Apocalypse?" Dean repeats and Bobby gives him a single nod. Yet still it doesn't seem to sink in for either of them as Sam drags his fingers through his growing messy hair "The apocalypse, apocalypse? The four horsemen, Pestilence, a five-dollar gallon of the gas apocalypse?"
Arms folded over my chest, I hum with an aloofly scrunched nose "That'd be the one."
"How do you know about this?" Sam questions me and Bobby, motioning to Bobby's book "That the symbol relates to the apocalypse?"
Bobby looking suggestively over to me, I try and explain "The Rising of the Witnesses is kinda like a Mile-Marker on the Highway to Hell." Nobody even cracking a smirk, I complain with a flourish of my hands "Oh come on- that was golden."
Both Dean and Bobby scoffing at the absurdity, Sam redirects "Ok completely bypassing that joke... what do we do now?"
"Road trip" Dean dismissively returns to the salt shells he's spent hours making with Sam "Grand Canyon. Star Trek Experience. Bunny Ranch."
"Well the first thing is first", Bobby ignores him. I spare a hesitant glance toward the door when he suggests "How about we survive our friends out there first."
"Great!" Dean snags my attention, a sarcastic grin on his face as he motions outside "Any ideas aside from staying in this room until judgment day?"
"It's a spell", Bobby readily pulls forwards another book of lore, indicating "To send the Witnesses back to Hell. Should work."
"Should", Sam scoffs as Dean insincerely chuckles behind me "Super."
"Excuse me?" I glance over my shoulder, eyeing down both Winchester's "Where is that can-do attitude I've been culturing for- like- two years?"
"Sorry", Dean cynically smiles my way, waving his hand around the mess which is apparently our life "Left it in Hell."
Sam quickly snatching my hand before I can smack Dean distastefully with it, Bobby voices assuredly "If I translate it correctly we should have all the ingredients for the spell in this house."
"Of course we do. It's us", I tell Bobby with a roll of my eyes.
Wandering over to the lone single bed, I pick up my shotgun and pump the shells into place. Taken note of my action, Dean uneasily suggests "Any chance you two got what we need in this room?" Taking in Sam and Dean's apprehensive expressions I quietly meet Bobby's gaze. When his shrug mimics mine I take it neither of us has hidden anything close to spelling ingredients inside this protective chamber. Humming, Dean reluctantly rises back to his feet "Yeah. That's the look I was afraid of."
"You thought our luck was going to just start now?" Bobby rhetorically questions, slamming the book shut "Spell's cast over an open fire."
I release a dreadful groan when Sam regretfully realizes "The fireplace in the library."
"Bingo."
"See that's just not as appealing as..." Gaze flickering around, Dean describes absentmindedly "...Ghost proof panic room."
Before I let myself have the chance to agree I wander over to the desk to steal some of the slat rounds created by the brothers as they begin arming up. Rolling my shoulders apprehensively I messily stuff the rounds into my jacket pockets. Considering how insane the idea of a looming apocalypse sounds I lock it away in the deepest corner of my mind. Right now I can't think of that. We have vengeful ghosts rising from their graves. It's something I never thought I'd see at these masses and I certainly don't plan on dying because I couldn't get outta my own head.
Yet as I stand poised, shotgun in hand behind the iron door, I can't help but feel my thoughts wander to my sister. I've been told she's not in Hell- that's been made abundantly clear to me. Although as I face down the solid iron exit I can't help but wonder if she'll appear. Hoping I might catch a glimpse of her behind this fabricated reinforced door. She became a vampire before John hacked her head off with his manchette. It wasn't a supernatural death by any means... but Katie was turned supernatural. She became one of the monsters. Despite how I know it to be illogical the sister in me hopes she rises. I want to see my little sister. Not a day goes by that I don't.
"El?" Averting my fixated gaze I notice it's Sam who'd spoken. Bobby, Dean, and Sam stand before me with apprehensive looks washed across their faces. I must've zoned out on them. Carefully, Sam asks readjusting his shotgun, brows furrowed in concern "You here?"
"Actually I'm the ghost of Christmas Past" despite the eye roll I received from Sam at the ill taste joke, I continue mocking him "I'm here because there is a lesson to be taught."
Clearly not appreciating the remarks, Sam huffs "I was just asking."
"Both of you cram it", Bobby gruffly shuts both of our bickering down, sending each of us a stern look. Rolling my shoulders I remain silent as does Sam. Attention to Bobby, he assertively orders "Cover each other. Aim carefully. Don't run outta ammo until I'm done or they'll shred you. Got it?" With Sam and Dean, I silently answer him with a curt affirmative nod. My focus re-directed on the task.
Yet as Bobby hauls the lever up Dean spares me a wary concerned glance over his shoulder. Sam shifting in front of him oblivious. If he is aware he doesn't say anything. I don't become unfocused. It's not something I do. To have spaced out as I had two minutes ago isn't close to normal for me. Nonetheless, I give Dean is another assuring nod that everything is fine- that I'm fine. As Bobby pushes the iron door open with a screech Dean understandably nods back. Silently recognizing I'm capable of what's to come our way.
Quenching the apprehension I refocus and follow Dean after Sam and Bobby over the thresh hold that was our safety net.