"It's on Rafe's back. He said it was a binding." Dean feels secure enough to look back over his shoulder at Sam. Sam's eyebrows go up and he studies the print-out – looks down at himself.
"It looks the same as... Dean, she said she was binding me to her. My...soul. Like the children."
She's an engine of evil that runs on souls . . . jeebus.
She's managed to get to her knees and she's painfully scraping a gap in the circle, the flesh of her hands sizzling. Glaring at him, teeth bared in a bloody snarl.
*And she's got Sam's soul. Fucking bitch.*
Is she using the souls to keep herself alive and going despite the injuries? Seems like a waste, since, if she laid low, none of this would be happening. She must have a larger angle--
Seventh, eighth – ninth cut and Sam's back arches into a rigid bow as something...hits him. Shockwave of moving air and light that passes through Dean like sunlight, warm and sweet. For one moment the air around Dean is full of the scent of bay and mint and the sea and then it's over – done – and Sam's staring at Dean and Dean's staring back, feeling the grin on his face. There's color in Sam's face now – life back in his eyes. "Jesus –"
That was a beautiful description--I could see it and smell it and--wuh! ::sighs::
"Dean – here. We can use this." Sam tilts the book toward Dean, the one Bobby gave them – Key of Solomon. "We can seal her into her body – lock up her power."
Now, does that mean trapping her spirit into that body, which may or may not be hers? Or merely trapping her powers, keeping her from effecting things with her mind or will?
"Fuck, okay – okay," Dean says, squirming out from under...her. It. Whatever it is. Her breathing has gone to hoarse little barks, rasping and ugly and Dean wipes his hands on his thighs and looks around. Clip there – knife there – bag and salt and bottle that had the oil in it. Sweeping up everything they've used while Rafe clumsily strips out of coat, hoodie and shirt and Sam smoothes the print-out and lifts the knife again. Last glance at what is surely a corpse, blood pooling out onto the battered carpet.
No way--I don't think she's dead. She can't be after all of this. All the death and killing and blood--she has to have had some grand plan, or something, but she's totally not dead.
Light. Heat. Sound that isn't sound, but that rings through Dean's bones as if they're hollow. He can't stand up under it – can't see, can't hear. He knows he's yelling – he can feel his throat working. But – nothing. Clumsily, he gropes forward into light so bright it's blinding him through squeezed-tight lids. Touches something – something warm under rough cloth and it's Sam, Sam's calf – Sam's knee and his hand is an inch or so higher when it all just – stops.
WTF?!!!!!!
I hate you! You suck, with the cliffhangers that I can't read now cuz I'm fried! But she's not dead--not without a super-villainy exposition, or something!
There'd better be explanations in the last chapter, Missy. In-depth ones.
Maybe even in the form of a sequel. . . . ::looks off into the distance:: ::whistles innocently::
no subject
"It's on Rafe's back. He said it was a binding." Dean feels secure enough to look back over his shoulder at Sam. Sam's eyebrows go up and he studies the print-out – looks down at himself.
"It looks the same as... Dean, she said she was binding me to her. My...soul. Like the children."
She's an engine of evil that runs on souls . . . jeebus.
She's managed to get to her knees and she's painfully scraping a gap in the circle, the flesh of her hands sizzling. Glaring at him, teeth bared in a bloody snarl.
*And she's got Sam's soul. Fucking bitch.*
Is she using the souls to keep herself alive and going despite the injuries? Seems like a waste, since, if she laid low, none of this would be happening. She must have a larger angle--
Seventh, eighth – ninth cut and Sam's back arches into a rigid bow as something...hits him. Shockwave of moving air and light that passes through Dean like sunlight, warm and sweet. For one moment the air around Dean is full of the scent of bay and mint and the sea and then it's over – done – and Sam's staring at Dean and Dean's staring back, feeling the grin on his face. There's color in Sam's face now – life back in his eyes. "Jesus –"
That was a beautiful description--I could see it and smell it and--wuh!
::sighs::
"Dean – here. We can use this." Sam tilts the book toward Dean, the one Bobby gave them – Key of Solomon. "We can seal her into her body – lock up her power."
Now, does that mean trapping her spirit into that body, which may or may not be hers? Or merely trapping her powers, keeping her from effecting things with her mind or will?
"Fuck, okay – okay," Dean says, squirming out from under...her. It. Whatever it is. Her breathing has gone to hoarse little barks, rasping and ugly and Dean wipes his hands on his thighs and looks around. Clip there – knife there – bag and salt and bottle that had the oil in it. Sweeping up everything they've used while Rafe clumsily strips out of coat, hoodie and shirt and Sam smoothes the print-out and lifts the knife again. Last glance at what is surely a corpse, blood pooling out onto the battered carpet.
No way--I don't think she's dead. She can't be after all of this. All the death and killing and blood--she has to have had some grand plan, or something, but she's totally not dead.
Light. Heat. Sound that isn't sound, but that rings through Dean's bones as if they're hollow. He can't stand up under it – can't see, can't hear. He knows he's yelling – he can feel his throat working. But – nothing. Clumsily, he gropes forward into light so bright it's blinding him through squeezed-tight lids. Touches something – something warm under rough cloth and it's Sam, Sam's calf – Sam's knee and his hand is an inch or so higher when it all just – stops.
WTF?!!!!!!
I hate you! You suck, with the cliffhangers that I can't read now cuz I'm fried! But she's not dead--not without a super-villainy exposition, or something!
There'd better be explanations in the last chapter, Missy. In-depth ones.
Maybe even in the form of a sequel. . . .
::looks off into the distance::
::whistles innocently::