Bone Key

by Keith R. A. DeCandido

  Sam immediately ran out to the tarp, pushed it aside, felt the rain pelt down on him—and saw his brother glowing while screaming. And then light shot out of his fingers and hit the Last Calusa.

  Every time I think I've seen everything, something comes along and raises the damn bar, Sam thought, staring at the agonized face of his brother. He also saw Bobby across the street pointing the Colt at a woman who was hovering over the pavement. The woman had the black eyes that signaled demonic possession, and was above a reverse pentagram. Sam also noted that there seemed to be a glowing string connecting the woman to Dean.

  He really did do the deal with Fedra. Desperate times, I guess...

  In that moment, Sam realized that he'd been an idiot.

  For two years, Sam had been displaying psychic powers that linked him to Azazel, and also to other children who, like Sam, had been touched by the demon. Sam had been concerned that entire time that he was somehow unclean, different—evil. Dean kept insisting—as he did fairly often, truth be told—that Sam was being a jackass.

  Now, he saw Dean, almost literally charged up by a spell being cast by a demon. Sam could feel the power that Dean was now channeling—so could the Last Calusa, to his detriment, though the Native spirit was giving as good as he got.

  Despite this, there was no doubt in Sam's mind that his brother was in there and that he was—well, not all right, but still Dean. Just as Dean saw that, premonitions or not, he was still Sam. But Dean couldn't do this alone. Luckily, he no longer had to. Dean's attacks had obviously either weakened the Last Calusa, or simply forced the spirit to draw on the energy needed to hold the sacrifices in place in order to defeat Dean. So Sam was free to do his part.

  He made a beeline for the Impala, which was parked right on the street. He considered checking the cop cars, which were closer, but this was Florida—they wouldn't have what he'd need.

  Bobby noticed Sam running toward the car, and called out, "Sam?"

  Running to the trunk, Sam dug his set of keys out of his pocket and opened the Impala's trunk, rainwater sluicing down the sides of the car as the trunk was lifted. Digging around, he found the bag of salt they kept back there for just such an occasion, as well as a can of lighter fluid.

  "Sam, what the hell're you doin'?" Bobby asked, as Sam ran back to the construction site.

  "Whatever I can," Sam said.

  Once back under the tarp, Sam, clothes and hair now sopping wet, ran straight for the unearthed bones.

  "What the heck're you doin'?" one cop asked. Ignoring him, Sam ripped open the bag of salt and upended it onto the Calusa bones. Once the bag was empty, and every exposed bone was covered in salt, Sam unscrewed the lighter-fluid can.

  "You're salting and burning the bones, aren't you?" another cop asked.

  A lab tech said, "Hang on, you said that wouldn't kill it."

  "It won't," Sam said after he'd sprayed the fluid around enough of the bones. Then he pulled a matchbook out of his pocket, yanked one free, lit it, and dropped it onto the bones, grateful that the tarp was keeping the rain out.

  "Then why you bothering?"

  Sam shoved his wet hair out of his eyes with one hand. "You know what they say—that which does not kill you still hurts a helluva lot."

  The Last Calusa screamed as a part of them burned away.

  They did not know how this had happened, but the pain was blinding. It was as if the Calusa were dying all over again, one by one being removed from the Last Calusa as they had been removed by the outsiders' diseases and guns.

  Gathering up their strength, the Last Calusa patched the hole that this event had made, making themselves whole again.

  But that took time, and it took effort, and doing so left them vulnerable to the dead soul.

  Out of the corner of his mind, Dean had seen Sam running to the Impala and returning with salt and lighter fluid. That's my brother, Dean thought, proud that Sam had broken free, prouder still that he was pitching in. While it was true that salting and burning the bones wouldn't kill the Last Calusa, it'd probably still have an effect. The spirit of Caleb whispered to Dean, Yes, that will weaken this foul creature. Perhaps then we can gain the upper hand.

  Sure enough, Dean heard the roar of the flames as the lighter-fluid-soaked salted skeletons alighted, and felt the Last Calusa diminish. For that matter, he saw it: Once Sammy started the bone barbecue, the Last Calusa was back to the height he'd been at when he'd come into the Fedregottis' hotel room.

  Given the opening, Dean pulled it all together: the passion and the pain, the stubbornness and the optimism, the pugilism and the pacifism, the despair and the hope, and gathered it into a single blow.

  "Okay, Tonto, this is it. Just one of us is gonna walk outta here alive, and it sure as hell ain't gonna be you!"

  For the American people...

  For my poor Agnes...

  For all the boys who didn't make it...

  For Mom and Dad...

  For all those tourists I flirted with...

  For the music...

  For the thrill of the chase...

  For Sam...

  Dean poured it all into one shot.

  Bobby watched the tableau through the rain that poured from the sky and dripped from the bill of his ball cap. The Last Calusa's blue glow dimmed, and the spirit itself got smaller shortly after Sam ran back into the construction site. Good work there, kiddo, he thought, even as Dean's glow intensified into a blood red, and he hit the Last Calusa with seemingly everything he had.

  Dean's scream before had been primal and bonechilling. But the Last Calusa's scream in response to Dean's attack made the earlier one seem like a mild whimper. Bobby felt it in his gut.

  The glow around the Last Calusa dimmed to almost nothing, and the spirit's flesh became translucent.

  Bobby stole a glance at the demon, who was smiling with a feral glee. Her hair was lustrous again, the bleeding had stopped, and the blisters were gone.

  Dean's face had constricted into a rictus of pain and determination, and he started yelling—but not in pain. It was the cry of adrenaline, like when martial artists shouted before they broke blocks of ice with their hands.

  Then came a massive flash of light, and Bobby was blinded. He clamped his eyes shut and held his arm over his face, but even through his lids and arm he could see the light.

  He hoped it was the discharge of the Last Calusa discorporating.

  When the light dimmed, Bobby blinked several dozen times to banish the spots of the afterglow.

  The rain had stopped.

  Sam poked his head through the tarp. Behind him, Bobby could see the flames licking upward.

  The demon was now standing on the pavement, still smiling. Of the pentagram, there was no sign, only burned and broken pavement.

  Dean just stood there, staring off into space.

  Moving toward him, Bobby said, "Dean, you okay?" even as Sam ran out, and said, "Dean!"

  "Ah ah ah!" the demon said, and suddenly Bobby was flying backward onto the South Street sidewalk.

  Getting quickly to his feet, Bobby saw that Sam had been similarly knocked down.

  "Sorry, boys," the demon said, "but playing-well-with-others time is over. The Last Calusa's power is mine, and so is my not-so-willing vessel. Isn't that right, Dean?"

  Dean kept staring straight ahead. "Screw you, bitch." But Bobby could tell it was a struggle.

  Hell with this, Bobby thought as he aimed the Colt and fired it at the demon, silently praying to Kat for forgiveness.

  The bullet flew through the air and then stopped. A second later, it fell to the pavement with a clink, its momentum gone.

  "Nice try, Bobby-baby, but you can't kill what you can't touch. C'mon, Dean. We need to get some supplies from your hotel room, then we're off to the races."

  Dean turned and, robot-like, walked toward the Impala.

  Sam screamed, "Dean!" and ran toward his brother, only once again to be thrown aside by demonic power.

  At t
he demon's command, Dean got behind the wheel of the Impala, while Kat got into the passenger side. Within moments, the car had turned around and was streaking down South Street toward Duval. Bobby and Sam had both tried to run toward it, but couldn't get within ten feet of the vehicle.

  "Son of a bitch!" Thanks to the charm Bobby had given to the Winchesters—which they had since gotten tattooed on their chests—neither Dean nor Sam could be possessed by a demon, but a demon as powerful as this one could easily take control of Dean's body.

  And they'd just gotten away with their only car.

  "C'mon," Sam said, starting to run after the car, "it's only a mile to the B&B."

  Bobby chased after Sam, if only because that was the only way to keep talking to him. "Sam, there's no point! By the time we get there on foot, they'll be gone!"

  But Sam kept running.

  With an annoyed grunt, Bobby ran after him.

  TWENTY

  Sam was fairly winded by the time they made it to Eaton Street. He and Bobby had been running up Duval, land-sharking their way around tourists and barhoppers, none of whom were particularly inclined to get out of the way of two people who had the bad taste to be running down a party street.

  Somewhere along the line, Bobby had twigged to why there was a chance of finding Dean and the demon still present at the Naylor House. "But," Bobby said between deep breaths, "we gotta assume the worst."

  If the worst happened, Sam would deal with it then, but he was fairly certain that "Fedra" was too arrogant to notice.

  When they got to the Naylor House, Sam was relieved to see that the Impala was still parked in front of the B&B. Nicki and Bodge were in the front room, reading. At their entrance, Snoopy, who had been lying on the floor, bounded to his feet and ran over to Sam and Bobby, hoping to be scratched.

  "Uh, Samwise, you may wanna be careful," Bodge said with a big grin. "Dean-ola brought a fine dish home, and I think they want some alone time."

  Not wanting to get into it with her, Sam just made a noncommittal grunt, extricated himself from the enthusiastic sheepdog, and dashed to the garden entrance in the back, Bobby on his heels.

  Sam was even more relieved when he didn't see anyone standing outside the bungalow where the brothers' rooms were. He jumped up onto the porch and slid the door open, but didn't enter. Dean was still standing ramrod-straight, though he now had a smile on his face. "Good to see you, Sammy."

  "Likewise," Sam said.

  Kat ran for the door, but stopped short—right under the circumference of the Key of Solomon that Dean and Sam had inscribed on the ceiling when they got back from the Hyatt.

  Bobby had been the first to tell them of the Key. It was a Devil's Trap, an elaborate circle that would keep any demon inside it. Usually, it was used by hunters as a trap to keep the demon still while an exorcism was performed.

  Which was Sam's plan right now.

  Knowing this, Kat screamed, "Don't you dare do this! I will kill your brother! If you don't break the seal on the trap, I will snap his neck like a dry twig!"

  Sam said the only thing he could in response. " Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino qui fertis super caelum caeli ad Orientem Ecce dabit voci Suae vocem virtutis, tribuite virtutem Deo. "

  "If you coulda killed him, you woulda," Bobby said. "My guess? You can't."

  "You really think I won't kill this little mutt?"

  Once, Sam would have needed Dad's notebook, but he'd done enough of these that he could probably exorcise a demon in his sleep at this point. " Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis ad- versarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare. "

  Smoke started to issue forth from Kat's eyes and mouth and ears. "No! It won't end like this! I won't let it!"

  "Sorry, sister," Dean said. "It's not like you need me. Way I figure it, you snuff me without permission from whoever the crossroads demon was workin' for, you might get yourself in a bit of a bind."

  "Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis falla- ciae, hostis humanae salutis. Humiliare sub potenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine, quem inferi tremunt. Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos. Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae humiliare digneris, te rogamus, audi nos."

  Kat stumbled to the floor, then got to her feet and slapped Dean, who was unable to recoil from the blow. "Nice try, kiddo, but after what I just went through? Being bitch-slapped ain't exactly something I'm gonna get all sore over."

  "No! Nooooooooo!"

  Sam smiled as he finished the exorcism. "Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae te rogamus, audi nos. Terribilis Deus de sanctuario suo. Deus Israhel ipse truderit virtutem et fortitudinem plebi Suae. Benedictus Deus. Gloria Patri."

  At "Patri," Kat's head reared back and black smoke poured out of her mouth toward the ceiling, only to disappear into the Key of Solomon. Then the girl crumpled to the floor, unconscious. Dean, now able to move, knelt and checked her pulse. "She's alive, but we should probably get her to a hospital."

  "I'll do it," Bobby said. "I ain't wanted by nobody, so I'll—"

  "Actually," Dean said, "just tell Nicki and Bodge up front. They'll take care of it."

  Sam felt a bit odd about that. "You sure?"

  "Trust me, Sammy, we can count on those two."

  Bobby moved back toward the house. "I'll take care of it."

  "Okay." Sam hesitated, then stared at his older brother. "Are you all right?"

  "I'll be honest with you, Sammy—that was seriously trippy. I don't remember all of it—it's a blur of weird memories and crazy emotions and... " Dean shuddered. "I dunno." He got to his feet. "Hey, thanks for the bone-burning."

  Shrugging, Sam said, "Somebody had to save your ass." Stifling a yawn, Sam added, "I don't know about you, Dean, but I'm ready to nap for a year."

  "Not me. I'm wired like you wouldn't believe."

  "You looked it." Sam stared at Dean and noticed that his hair was all spiky and standing on end. "Still do, really."

  Dean frowned, then looked at himself in the mirror. "Jesus." He started trying to mat down his hair with his hands, but it kept springing back up.

  Chuckling, Sam said, "C'mon, you look hip."

  "Yeah, if this was 1985 London. Crap." Dean took a breath. "Well, I don't care. I just kept the spirit of a long-dead Indian tribe from wiping out most of humanity, and that calls for a beer. Or six. You comin'?"

  Sam held up his hands. Given the mood Dean was in, Sam suspected that he would only crimp his older brother's style. "I'll pass. You go ahead, I'll wait here for the ambulance to take Kat."

  "Yeah." Dean looked down at her. "She should be okay."

  "Maybe. Depends on how much she remembers. I mean, we're used to this."

  "Not this," Dean said. "This was—different. It was like I had hundreds of people in my head." He shuddered. "And you know what? Hemingway really was an asshole."

  When Dean woke up, it was like a freight train was running in circles in his brain.

  The sun was blaring through the window of the Naylor House bungalow, blinding him and causing a sharp pain right behind his left eye. His mouth felt like he'd been chewing cotton.

  He moved to sit up, and only then did he register that he wasn't in bed alone.

  After staring at the naked female body for a few seconds, light finally dawned. "Oh yeah."

  He'd gone back to Captain Tony's. Grande Skim Latte was playing there again, and this time Dean met a woman named Bess.

  No, stupid, her name is Martha. Shaking his head, he thought, Agnes? Marty? Gene? Sue?

  All of those were people that were loved by the spirits who'd filled his mind during the fight against the Last Calusa. The memories were fading, but those names stayed prominent—not surprising, really, since the
feelings associated with them were really intense.

  Whoever this woman was, though, she looked damn hot while sleeping. She slept on her side, accentuating the curve of her hips, her arms hugging the pillow to her head. Bits of memories of the night before flashed in Dean's mind's eye: slowdancing with her during a rendition of Clapton's "Wonderful Tonight," daring her to donate her bra to the wall and watching her take it off while not removing her shirt, doing shots of—well, something, then stumbling back to the Naylor House for a considerable amount of sex.

  A gentle tapping at the door echoed in Dean's entire skull, and he peered at the door to see Sammy. Grasping about for his underpants, Dean climbed into them and went to the door, shutting it behind him. Putting a finger to his lips, he whispered, "She's asleep."

  Sam looked like he was about to say something, then thought better of it. "Just got off the phone with Bobby at the hospital. He said Kat'll be all right. She says she doesn't remember what happened."

  "That'd be a nice change." Dean knew that most of those possessed remembered it all. That was part of the torment, after all. But this girl may have just repressed it.

  "And I talked to Officer Montrose, and he and his coworkers are writing up last night as a freak rainstorm. The deaths are gonna stay open cases to keep the politicians happy, but they know that it won't ever be solved."

  "Cool. So our work here is done?"

  "Not quite," said a voice from behind him. Whirling around, Dean saw the spirit of Captain Naylor. "Captain!" Then Dean frowned. "You're still coherent."

  "Which is more than I can say for you, Mr. Winchester," Naylor said with a smile. "I assume your distasteful fornications are complete, and you can get on with the business of fulfilling your end of our bargain?"

  "Uh, yeah, sure." Dean blinked a few times. "Look, I need a shower, and to say sayonara to my friend here. Say we meet at the walnut tree where you're buried in an hour?"

  "That is acceptable," Naylor said.

  An hour later, Dean had wished the girl goodbye—he never did get her name, and couldn't think of a good way to ask, though he noticed that she never said his name, either—and showered. Meanwhile, Sam went to Nicki and Bodge and explained why they needed to dig up the area around the walnut tree.