Supernatural War of the Sons

by Rebecca Dessertine

  “Demons? Why didn’t you say?” The guy pulled a small green cloth bag out from the collar of his shirt. “Chicken bones, feather, little dust. Demons don’t scare me none.”

  “Hoodoo?” Dean asked.

  “Born and raised and taught by my momma.”

  “Great. Then please get me all the salt you have, and start making lines at the doors and windows.”

  “You got it. Name’s Ray.”

  “Nice to meet you. Dean.” Dean shook Ray’s outstretched hand. A couple of other guys followed Ray out of the dining car to the kitchen.

  Julia looked down at her watch. “Well, look at the time. We really do need to retire. We reach Chicago quite early tomorrow, don’t we?”

  Eli noticed the car was now empty of diners, save for two big guys and the old man seated behind him. Finally, he took a good look at Sam. Recognition dawned on his face. Eli got up and moved to pick up his case.

  “I’ll take that,” Walter said, pulling the case from underneath Eli’s chair.

  “That’s mine. You can’t have it. I remember you—you were at the auction too.” Eli looked around the room. “You all were.”

  Dean trained a shotgun on Eli.

  “Yes, and you took something that we need.”

  Walter backed up behind Sam and Dean as Julia stepped away. Eli visibly started to panic.

  “You don’t understand—I need those.”

  “Yeah, buddy, so do we. Sort of like the entire planet hangs in the balance.”

  An enormous crash echoed from the dining car ceiling.

  “What was that?” Eli shrieked. Small flakes of paint floated down from the gilded ceiling.

  “They’re on the roof,” Sam cried. “Walter, Julia, make these signs everywhere!” Sam threw them wax pencils.

  “You,” Dean indicated Eli. “Stay where you are.”

  Eli shuddered as he watched Walter attempt to open the locked case. A series of bumps and thumps emanated from above.

  “What’s going on?” Eli demanded, sounding scared.

  “I’ll tell you what’s going on,” Dean snapped. “The contents of your little suitcase there comes with a whole mess of angry demons that are bound to protect it. During your Thomas Crown moment they were released, and now they’re after whomever has the scrolls. So bite it, buddy. Right now we’re saving your sorry ass.”

  Dean hastily drew a Devil’s Trap on the ceiling, then another right next to it.

  Ray and the other waiters returned from the kitchen car.

  “Hey man,” Ray said warily, “I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s looking bad out there. Like a damn demon hoe-down.”

  “Just my type of gig.” Dean handed Ray a wax pencil. “Don’t need to be da Vinci.”

  The banging sound from above stopped.

  “Where’d they go?” Julia asked, peeking out of the window.

  “They’re trying to find another way in,” Dean said.

  “Will they?” she asked.

  “Hopefully not, but if you see one, use this.” Dean handed her a shotgun filled with salt shells. “I have a feeling you can handle it.”

  Dean then grabbed his brother and they moved to a corner to confer.

  “So what’s the plan?” Sam asked.

  “They’re here for the scrolls right? But we don’t know which one—are they protecting all of them, or only one?”

  “I would guess that if Lilith has anything to do with the demon possessing James, then it has to be our scroll. The War Scroll. If you were Lucifer, wouldn’t you want to protect the battle plan to defeat you?”

  “Right, but... musty old ancient bitch demon, how does she know what we give her?”

  Sam and Dean set about tearing up linen tablecloths.

  “Hey Ray, are there any canisters in the kitchen, like for flour or something?” Dean asked.

  “Absolutely. But I don’t think I want to go out there.” Ray motioned toward the door scrawled with the Devil’s Trap. “They sound like some bad-ass demons.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  Dean grabbed the shotgun back from Julia.

  “You know, you could have brought along your own firearm, if you’re so women’s lib.”

  “What?” Julia asked, puzzled by the modern reference.

  Dean aimed the shotgun at the sky as Ray opened the door and they crossed the rattling platform to the kitchen car.

  Dean kicked open the door, the stainless steel glinted from the fluorescent lights. He stepped in further.

  Ray gasped. The chef, a pudgy man with floppy ears, was splayed out on the floor, his heart split in two by a meat cleaver. The sous-chef had fallen at his side, with a soup ladle impaled through his eye.

  “Bernie and Ralph didn’t deserve that,” Ray muttered.

  “Let’s get that flour.” Dean stepped over the bodies to the baking area. He grabbed four steel flour canisters and handed them to Ray.

  “Well, well,” a voice said. “I was hoping to meet the son of the mother slain, the vessel of goodness and light.”

  Dean spun around to face a young girl in a Waldorf Astoria maid’s uniform. With her blouse half-unbuttoned, her skirt cinched up, and her lips blood-red, she was clearly a full-on, fully sexed-up demoness.

  “Who the hell are you?” Dean’s shotgun was aimed right at her heart.

  “Exactly. I do love scholars. I’m Eisheth, sister to Lilith.”

  “Lilith has family?”

  “Sister by marriage. I’m one of Lucifer’s wives and so is she.”

  “So you’re like Mormon demons? Kinky.”

  Eisheth’s eyes flashed red.

  “I wouldn’t make it mad,” Ray whispered.

  Dean moved toward Eisheth. “Well, listen, this was really fun and all, but we better be getting back.” He trained the gun on the demoness and stepped toward her, Ray close behind him. “Just a little warning, the salt in here is going to burn a lot, like a bad herpes outbreak. They have that back where you’re from?”

  “You remind me of the town leper,” Eisheth growled.

  “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

  They circled one another until Dean and Ray could back-peddle out of the kitchen toward the dining car.

  Ray opened the door and backed out first.

  There was a low growl. Dean turned his head to see James perched above them on the scaffolding between the train cars. Before Dean could get off a shot, James jumped at Ray.

  Ray hit the deck of the car and almost rolled off. Dean shot James in the shoulder, making the animal even madder. He turned and lunged at Dean.

  From inside the dining car Sam had his shotgun trained on the back of James’s head. Dean gave a nod and ducked as Sam took the shot. The window shattered.

  James’s body fell forward, lifeless. The demon inside shot up into the air and out of sight.

  Dean spun around just in time to catch Eisheth dragging Ray back into the kitchen.

  “Leave him alone, he didn’t do anything. We’re the ones with the scrolls.”

  “I’ve always liked a proper sacrifice,” Eisheth hissed. She produced a long blade, picked Ray up by the neck and in one swift movement sliced him from groin to throat.

  “No!” Dean got off another shot as Eisheth flung Ray aside and raced toward him.

  Dean dived back into the dining car. Two of the waiters pushed a wooden table up against the door’s broken window. Eisheth pounded on the other side of the barrier.

  Dean pushed his back against the wall—that wasn’t a fair way for Ray to go.

  “I found out who we’re dealing with,” he said.

  “Who?” Julia came forward.

  Eli sat quivering in a corner.

  “Bitch named Eisheth. Know anything about her, doc?” Dean looked at Walter.

  “Yes, she’s one of Satan’s wives. She doesn’t come up very much.”

  “Yeah, because she’s playing second fiddle to Lilith.”

  Sam looked to see if Eli had
any inkling as to what they were talking about. From the look on his face, it seemed like he did.

  Sam leaned over Eli. “What do you know about the scrolls?” he shouted into the little guy’s face. “You’re not telling us something. Why did you want them so badly?”

  Eli scrambled to the other side of a table.

  “They’re precious. You wouldn’t understand. The scrolls were written by the Essenes, devout followers of Judaism. They are pre-biblical.”

  “Tell us something we don’t know.”

  Just then, the train lurched. Everyone fell forward.

  “What is that bitch doing now?” Dean got up and pushed his head out of the window. Eisheth was underneath the train. Sparks flew as a piece of the undercarriage rolled down the incline of the train tracks.

  “Hope we didn’t need that.” Dean trained his shotgun at Eisheth. The shots went wide.

  “So now what do we do?” Walter had spread the War Scroll over a couple of tables.

  “You put that in here.” Dean threw him the metal container.

  “But this isn’t sterile. This is centuries-old parchment, it can’t be exposed to foreign substances.”

  “Well it’s a foreign scroll in a foreign land. Put it in there.”

  Walter gently wrapped the scroll in a tablecloth and put it in the canister.

  “Now give it to Sam.”

  “You don’t understand—” Walter faltered.

  “Old man, do you want to get out of here alive or not? Give it to Sam!”

  Sam took the canister and placed it in the duffle bag that hung from his shoulder.

  “Julia, take the scroll jar and stuff it with strips of tablecloth. We’re going to make a little ancient trade. Who wants to play bargain with a demoness?”

  No one raised their hands.

  “Okay then, guess I have to have a little tête-à-tête with this bitch myself. Sam?” Dean beckoned to his brother.

  They huddled together. It was a bad situation and the fact that they were on a moving train just added to their problems.

  “This is what I figure,” Dean said. “We need to get the passengers away from her. And we need to get away from her. I say we play a little Great Train Robbery and detach the cars.”

  “What about Eli?”

  “We have the scroll, right? Just let him go.”

  Five minutes later, Sam had scaled the train through the back door of the dining car. The roof of the car was rain slicked, and a wind blew off the Great Lakes on his left. He made his way over the top of the dining car toward the bar. Sam had to move quickly in order to get over to the passenger car and detach it from the train.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Dean cocked his shotgun as he stepped out of the dining car. Julia followed him holding the jar containing the pieces of tablecloth. She salted the door behind her and went after Dean.

  “Hey second string!” Dean called into the night air. He and Julia stepped into the next car. A long wooden bar extended down one side.

  “Wow, swanky. Hey Lilith’s handmaid, where you at?”

  Eisheth appeared between them and the dining car. Great. Now Dean was going to have to make a deal with Eisheth and get around her before Sam detached the car from the train.

  Two more demons popped up from behind the bar.

  “Drink?” Dean asked as he moved toward them.

  “Who is she?” Eisheth pointed at Julia.

  “My little sister. She comes with me everywhere. Always tagging along. Sort of like you and Lilith.”

  “That whore? I was shut away for thousands of years while she got to play out in the world.”

  “Oh come on, she’s family, you gotta love your sister. Well, maybe not. I mean she did get to shack up with Lucifer way more often than you did. Do you think they have a china pattern?”

  “Retribution comes to those who wait.”

  “I think it’s ‘good things,’ but whatever. So Eisheth, how about we make a deal? I give you the scroll, and you go on your merry way. And while you’re at it, you can let these poor people who your friends are knocking around in go. They can just jump out of them and leave them in peace.”

  “War doesn’t leave anyone unscathed.”

  “Semantics, Eisheth. About the scroll.”

  “Is that it?”

  Julia placed the ancient jar on the bar.

  A possessed bartender reached for it, black eyes flashing.

  “Leave it!” Eisheth eyed the guy. “It’s not yours to defile. It’s my responsibility.”

  “So this is all about responsibility? Fantastic. I admire that in a demon. You take your job seriously. I get it. Now we’re just going to scoot on out of here.”

  “Wait! I want to see it,” Eisheth hissed.

  Dean hoped that Sam was just about done playing model train because things were getting bad down here.

  Sam was in fact hanging onto the side of the train, in between the bar car and the passenger car. He was struggling with the hitching mechanism when he realized the steel levers that hooked the train cars together required a key. He scaled the ladder once again.

  Sam sprinted across the tops of the cars. He looked into the distance. It was dark, no lights—he couldn’t see anything speeding toward him as he ran. One tree branch or tunnel would do him in. Could he die in the past? He was pretty sure he could.

  Sam jumped down to the platform of the engine. He tried the door, but the lever wouldn’t budge. Sam banged on the door until the engineer emerged out of the darkness. He was a tall guy in striped overalls. Just like you would expect. Sam motioned for him to let him in.

  “Who are you?” the engineer asked as he pushed open the door a crack.

  Sam played dumb. “I seem to have lost my way.”

  In a flash, he shoved himself through the opening and gave the engineer a smack to the nose with his elbow. The man fell to the ground.

  “Where’s your hitching key?” Sam demanded.

  The prone engineer pointed to a long steel rod hanging on the wall.

  “When you feel the train get lighter you push this thing full throttle, okay?” The man nodded.

  Sam leapt out of the car and scaled the ladder once again.

  Dean heard Sam run across the roof for the second time in five minutes. He must be close.

  “Why do you want to see it?” Dean challenged. “What’s on it that’s so important.”

  Eisheth’s eyes flashed red again.

  “You know what I think?” Dean continued. “I think you’re torn, because you promised your husband that you would protect this thing for him. But at the same time you know what it says. It’s how to kill him, isn’t it?”

  Dean saw Julia glance at him out of the corner of his eye. Her look said, Surely this isn’t the best way to negotiate with a demon?

  Ignoring her, Dean carried on goading Eisheth.

  “You know what else I think? I think that you’re pissed Lucifer gave you the babysitting job, and now you just might want to read that little battle plan for yourself. You know, take your husband’s job, sort of like a senate seat.”

  Eisheth lunged at Dean. He knocked her back with the butt of his shotgun.

  “No touching.”

  Eisheth lunged at him again, just as the train sped up dramatically. Through the window he could see the passenger part of the train start to pull away. The split-second distraction enabled Dean to push Julia toward the dining car.

  Eisheth spun around and attacked Dean. He fell to the ground, face first. The shotgun skittered away from his reach.

  Julia darted forward and picked it up, blasting Eisheth in the shoulder and knocking her off Dean. The two bartenders came after Julia, but in a surprising move she coupled a round-house kick with a flash of a blade.

  The gashes to the demons’ bodies flared orange and they dropped to the ground. Ruby’s knife!

  “What the —! Julia run!” Dean screamed as he rolled over and kicked Eisheth in the chest, sending her flying across th
e bar.

  Dean turned toward the door. Sam was waving urgently. He was now in the process of unhitching the bar car.

  Dean leapt to his feet and got halfway out onto the platform, but Eisheth was close behind. She grabbed him and pulled him to the ground in the doorway. Below him, Dean could see the levers clicking as the car struggled to detach. Sam was pushing heavily on the lever.

  “Time to go, Dean.”

  Eisheth got her hands around Dean’s throat. He struggled to breathe.

  “Wow, 3,000 years in a jar hasn’t done anything for your dental hygiene,” he croaked.

  Dean managed to get his knees up and reverse donkey-kick Eisheth back into the bar car.

  “Now!” Sam screamed.

  Julia opened fire on Eisheth. The salt bullets penetrated her body, each shot pushing her further back into the bar car.

  Dean rolled backward into the dining car just as the bar car split off. The rest of the train hurtled down the tracks.

  Eisheth was left standing in the bar car, cursing.

  TWENTY-THREE

  The bar car plummeted into the darkness of the night. Sam and Dean shut the door behind them. They had gotten rid of Eisheth for now, but she would be after them as soon as she realized that the scroll had been switched.

  Inside the dining car, Julia tried to avoid Dean’s gaze. He walked up to her and roughly grabbed her arm.

  “What the hell was that?” he demanded.

  “Get your hands off her!” Walter protested.

  “Wait your turn, old man, you’re in on this too. You have our knife! Do you know how useful that could have been the last couple of days? We’re fighting demons, and it’s the only thing that kills them. Hello, fighting demons.” Dean motioned to the carnage around him. “Not to mention the fact that you did steal it from us. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

  Julia looked up at Dean. “I’m sorry. We needed to find out who you were. And I took it. I didn’t know what it was for, until today.”

  “Which begs the question: Who are you?” Dean stood beside Sam glaring at Walter and Julia.

  Walter stepped forward. “We’re hunters. Just like you.”

  “And you were going to tell us this when?” Sam asked.