9. War (Part 1)

Needless to say our numbers weren't too keen on conversation. They all kept to themselves mainly. I spent my time pacing in the beginning when Sam and Ellen left. There was so much they could find, and so much trouble they could get into. Who knew how many demons we were dealing with out there? One hundred? One thousand? What if they didn't find Jo and Rufus? Or what if they did and the two were dead?

I bit down on my thumbnail but didn't tear it off. It was a habit to it do when I was extremely stressed and worried.

"You need to settle down there, jitters."

I stopped my pacing to see Dean blocking my route. He held a gun in one hand. "You need a little more practice." He nodded to the weapon in his hand.

"With what?"

"The crash course wasn't enough. I practically did the work for you. I'll give you a proper lesson."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I asked. "Really, I want to know, because from day one, you look at me like I'm some shady animal that'll bite your head off when the chance comes around."

"Just because Sam knows you doesn't mean anything. Time changes a lot of things, people included. And this isn't being nice; it's being tolerant." I rolled my eyes. "Come on, pixie."

I gritted my teeth at the stupid nickname.

Even with Dean demonstrating and giving me special attention, the time didn't go by any faster. My worry only increased. It didn't show until the time grew. My pulse thundered in my ears, my hands were tremoring violently. I had a hard time loading the shell in until Dean grabbed my wrist and pulled it down so that I could drop the shell.

"I know," he told me softly. "It's been a while. But they'll come back. You and I both know they will."

"You don't sound too sure," I whispered. "You must've used to say that all the time to yourself, that whoever disappeared would come back."

"It's almost a built-in catchphrase that comes with the job."

I jumped at the loud pounding on the door. The doorman opened it, and Ellen, looking frazzled, came in. Sam was nowhere to be found. Dean and I looked at each other before running to Ellen.

"Where's Sam?" we asked in unison. We looked at each other strangely.

Ellen only shook her head. She moved past us to sit down next to the non-pregnant young woman, who offered her a water bottle.

"They took him?" the pregnant lady panicked. "Demons took him? Oh my god. What if they're in here? The demons?"

"Could they get in?" the pastor asked.

"No," Dean answered. He grabbed the shotgun he'd had me practicing with and headed for the door. "Everybody sit tight. I got it—" His hand stopped on the doorknob. He looked back at all of us.

We reversed his decision. He came back towards the table, with all of us looking to him for guidance.

"Okay, we need to get a plan together," he instructed. "Tell me everything."

From the group, there wasn't much to tell aside from what we already knew. We were told some horror stories that left people pale, and one woman nearly faint, and the pregnant lady almost suffered a full blown panic attack. Her partner was still trying to calm her down. Even he couldn't help her.

It was just Dean, me, and Ellen at the edge of the table, the edge closest to the doors. I sat on Ellen's right, peeking past her, hoping for Sam to walk through those doors alive. I didn't expect him to come back unscathed. With what we were facing, there was just no way.

"Dean, one of them's in Jo," Ellen told us. "We got to get it out without hurting her."

"Is that even possible?"

"There's got to be a way." She snorted. "It called me a bitch."

"Bruise a little easy, don't you think?" Dean said carefully.

"No, that's not what I meant. It called me a black-eyed bitch."

Black-eyed bitch? My brows came together as I rubbed my forehead.

"What kinds of demons are these?" Ellen wondered for us. "Holy water and salt roll right off. My daughter may be an idiot, but she's not stupid. She wears an anti-possession charm. It's all kind of weird, right?"

"The whole thing's off," Dean agreed.

"None of it adds up," I seconded.

"What's your instinct?" Ellen asked Dean.

"My instinct?" he said. "My instinct is to call Bobby and ask for help. Or Sam."

"Well, tough. All you got's me and her, and all we got's you. So let's figure it out."

"All right." From the corner of my eye, I saw Ellen smile. "Do you know why Rufus came to town? Was there a specific omen?"

"He said something about water. That's all I know."

"Padré." Dean turned to the pastor. "You know what she's talking about—the water?"

"The river," the pastor responded. "Ran polluted all of a sudden."

"When?" I piped.

"Last Wednesday," said our doorman. "And the demon thing started up the next day."

"Anything else?" Dean probed. "Anything."

"Maybe, but it's pretty random."

"Good. Random's good."

"Shooting star—does that count?"

Dean and Ellen looked at each other. I was lost if they knew something I didn't.

"Real big," the doorman went on. "Same night. Wednesday."

"That definitely counts," Dean told him. He left the table briefly to come back with a Bible. He began to flip through the pages.

"So, uh, you think that all this comes from outer space?"

"This isn't X-Files, pal." Dean stopped his searching. "'And there fell a great star from heaven, burning like a torch, and it fell upon the river, and the name of the star was Wormwood. And many men died.'"

"Revelation eight-ten," the pastor recalled. "Are you saying that this is about the apocalypse?"

"You could say. And these specific omens, they're prelude to what?"

"The Four Horsemen."

"And which one rides the red horse?"

"War."

"That cherry Mustang parked on Main."

"What?" I exclaimed, looking at him warily. Ellen nodded.

"You can't think that a car—" the pastor started.

"It's the way I'd roll," Dean told him. "I mean, think about it. It all makes sense. If War is a dude and he's here, maybe he's messing with our heads."

"Turning us on each other," Ellen murmured.

"You said Jo called you a black-eyed bitch. They think we're demons, we think they're demons. What if there are no demons at all and we're all just killing each other?"

"Wait, just back up," the pastor demanded. "It's the apocalypse?"

"Sorry, Padré."

The pastor was frozen, the only movement came from his eyes.

"So now you're saying there are no demons and war is a guy," our doorman said, his voice full of skepticism.

"You believed crazy before," Dean said.

Someone hammered on the door. Our doorman ran to check in the peephole.

"Open up! It's Roger!" said a voice from the other side.

The doorman let Roger in. Now I had a name to the man with the glasses. My head cocked to the side. When had he even left? When could he have snuck out from under our noses? There weren't that many people here.

Roger was panting hard, like he'd just ran to save his life. "I saw them, the demons," he rasped. "They know we're trying to leave. They said they're gonna pick us off one by one."

"Wait, wait, wait," I said. "What?"

"I thought you said there were no demons," the doorman told Dean.

"There's not," Dean retorted. He looked at Roger. "Where did you go?"

"I thought someone should go out and see what's going on!" Roger snapped.

"Where did you see the demons and what did they say exactly?"

"We just sit here, we're going to be dead," the doorman declared.

"No, we're not!"

"They're gonna kill us unless we kill them first," Roger exclaimed.

"We get it," I snapped at him.

"Hold on," Dean said aloud. "Hold on."

"No, man," said our doorman, "we got people to protect. All right, the able-bodied go hunt some demons." He picked up a shotgun and handed it over to the young man.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said instantly.

"Slow your roll," Dean sided with me. "This is not a demon thing."

"Look at their eyes!" Roger said, pointing a long finger at Dean, Ellen, and I. "They're demons!"

The pregnant lady gasped. I looked all around. The pastor had a shotgun raised right at us.

"Go, go!" Dean shouted, shoving Ellen and me towards the doors. I ducked as I heard the bullet bite into the door. "Move!"

We busted out of the church, exposing ourselves to bright sunlight. We ran a little ways from the church until we braced ourselves against a wall.

"The hell?" I rasped. Suddenly, the pieces clicked together. "Wait! That son of a bitch! It's Roger." It explained so much: how he'd suddenly disappeared, why. How he'd turned the frightened people against us.

Oh, I wanted to punch his stupid face!

"We'll deal with him when we can," Dean told me. "We need to get Sam, Jo, and Rufus before they find us."

"Follow me," Ellen told us. She took off at a brisk trot. Dean and I ran after her.

We needed to put as big of a gap between the townspeople and us before they continued their mad hunt for the "demons."

**War...that dick...

Pardon my French, readers. He, like an abundance of villains on this show, I hate! Including a guy who's actual name is Dick (well, technically Richard, but still...).

Sorry, season ranting. I should have put that as a warning in the Author's Note. Besides, you know an actor does their job portraying a villain when you feel a hatred towards their character!

ANYWAY, I will mention this throughout the story: ANY FANART (WHETHER GIF BANNERS, BANNERS, EVEN CRACKSHIP VIDS OR WHATEVER THOSE ARE CALLED) IS ENCOURAGED.

That is all.**