Just One Last Sacrifice - Chapt 4

Chapter 4 - To cure a Demon


Meg glanced over as Dean let out a groan and leaned back in his well worn leather seat. "You all right there?" The demon behind the wheel asked casually.

"Not really no." Dean replied, putting a hand up to his burning forehead. "I feel weak, tired, nauseated, I'm exhausted and everything's sore. I feel like I got my ass kicked."

There was a moment of silence and Meg once again took a quick glance at the man sitting next to her. "You still want to go through with this?"

"Yeah I do." The young hunter was quick to reply. "I feel like shit but at the same time I feel like there's a light at the end of the tunnel. You know? There's finally an end to all of this and what I'm about to do, I feel like it's going to make up for everything I've ever screwed up...." He trailed off as he pointed her down a dirt road. "Take a left here, I think I saw a church steeple through the trees up on that ridge." He said as he sucked in a shallow breath. He'd taken all kinds of beatings as a hunter but nothing compared to the way he was feeling right now. Not the torture he endured in Hell, the fear or adrenaline high of Purgatory, the numerous gunshot wounds, the stabbings, the broken bones or various injuries that came with the job, nothing came even close.

"Sam doesn't know, does he?" Meg finally asked, her hands on the wheel tightening slightly. When she didn't get a reply, she cleared her throat. "Neither does your feathered friend I gather, judging by that sigil you carved into your arm. So tell me renegade, why are you hiding from the only two people who actually give a damn about you?"

"It's complicated." Dean replied simply.

"What isn't with you."

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Sam pulled the fake badge from his pocket as he and Castiel approached the motel's front desk. Though he had done this so many times before while working cases, doing it to try and find his brother had his stomach in knots. "I need a complete list of guests that have booked in within the last twenty-four hours." He demanded, knowing that time was of the essence if they were to find Dean before he finished the trials.

The man reluctantly reached under the counter to pull out a large binder, placing it on the desk in front of him. "We sort of run this the old fashion way." He started, opening the binder to a marked page and turning it over so Sam could have a look. "I'm sure you're use to looking at records on the computer, but I've always found it easier to keep track this way."

"That's fine, thanks." Sam was quick to reply as he grabbed the large binder from the desk and made his way to a small round table behind them. He took a seat and his eyes quickly started scanning the list of names, license plate numbers and credit card info on the page in front of him.

"I don't see his name." Castiel remarked as he too scanned the list from over the young hunter's shoulder.

"There, in room nine." Sam pointed out, his finger tracing the name and signature of an alias his brother often used. "Robert Plant is the lead signer of his favorite band." He explained. "Says here he paid cash so there was no Credit Card to trace and he didn't leave a License plate number. He checked in before dawn this morning and it looks like he hasn't checked out yet."

"I didn't see the Impala parked out front." Castiel went on, glancing up at the man busy sorting papers behind the front desk.

"He could have parked it somewhere else." Sam was quick to reply as he closed the large binder and got to his feet. "I'm going to need a master key so I can search one of your rooms." He said sternly as he handed the binder back. "I'm looking for a person of interest and so far my investigation has led me to your motel."

"I'm sorry but I can't just hand you the keys to one of my guests room." The man replied, his eyes drifting from Sam to Castiel. "If you want to search a room, you're going to have to go to the local detachment and get one of our officers over here to assist in the..."

"If you don't give me access to room number nine, I'll book you right now for obstruction." Sam cut in, extending his hand. "If the guy I'm looking for isn't here, I'm gone."

The man hesitated for a moment before grabbing a key from the register in front of him. "Ten minutes." He said simply. "You've got ten minutes to go have a look and then I'm calling the local authorities down here."

"That wont be necessary." Sam replied as he grabbed the key from the other man's hand and headed out the door. Walking down the sidewalk that lined the front of the building, Sam couldn't help but wonder what, if anything they would find in that motel room once they got there. Would they be too late? Would they get there before the damage was done?

"I can go in, if you'd rather wait outside." Castiel offered, watching as Sam struggled with the thought of what they might find. He'd spent enough time with both men to know when something was bothering them and it was more than obvious to him now, that this was bothering Sam. They came to a stop in front of room number nine and their eyes instantly fell to the 'do not disturb' sign that was hanging from the doorknob.

"No, that's alright." Sam quietly replied, knocking on the door and waiting for a reply. When there was no response, he slid the key into the lock, sucked in a breath and pushed the door open. "Dean?" He called out, stepping into the empty room to have a look around. Though the bed was still made he could tell someone had used it, it wasn't that uncommon for Dean to just lay back and close his eyes. Rest to Dean was nothing more than a quick nap most of the time anyway. While Castiel made his way into the tiny washroom, Sam couldn't help but take notice of the blood droplets on the floor by the bed. He knelt down and used the edge of a bed sheet to wipe up the dark red spots. It wasn't fresh, but it wasn't that old either.

"I found these." Castiel announced as he emerged from the washroom with a few bloody towels. "They were left on the edge of the tub, they're still wet."

Sam stood from the floor as he let out a sigh. "There's more blood on the floor here." He pointed out as he caught the angel's eyes. "I don't think he was in here long, more than likely stopped by to clean himself up after killing a Hellhound."

"So what now?" Castiel asked as he tossed the towels onto the floor behind him. "You think he'll be back?"

"I doubt it." Sam replied as he took a glance around the empty room. "The second trial is to pull an innocent soul from Hell, and unless he traps a demon, a reaper... or an angel maybe,  I have no idea how he'd pull that off."

"I haven't heard of any angels answering to him, if he called on them." Castiel informed. "Assuming he accomplished such a task, what would his next step be?"

"Cure a demon." Sam replied as he passed a hand over his face, his mind drifting back to the old church where he'd come so close to restoring Crowley's soul and closing the gates of Hell. It had taken hours to accomplish and had drained him of everything he had, but he'd come so close to finishing the third trial. "We need to find hallowed ground." He explained as he started to pace. "A church or a graveyard, somewhere he can go nearby to cleanse his own soul before he starts that third trial. If we can't figure out how he's going to get that second trial done..."

"Then we'll get ahead of him and wait for him." Castiel cut in, finishing the hunter's sentence.

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Meg looked up at the old abandoned church as the Impala rolled to a stop. "Here we are, looks a little run down." She remarked as she put the shifter in park and slid the keys from the ignition.

"Doesn't matter, it'll do." Dean replied, stepping out of the passenger seat. He reached into the back seat and pulled out his duffle bag as Meg made her way around the car to join him. "Just give me a minute, there's something I've got to do." He said as he swung the duffle bag over one shoulder and started to make his way up to the old church. His heart was pounding in his chest and his breath catching in the back of his throat, there was no turning back now. With two trials already behind him he could feel his body shutting down and knew that the final trial, to cure a demon, would drain what life and soul he had left. Sacrifice in the name of the greater good was the Winchester way after all and while giving his life to slam shut the gates of Hell was worth the price he was about to pay, it wasn't the reason he was willing to die. Sam might have been right about one thing, that he'd saved him because he feared facing the world alone, but the truth was, he'd never be able to just stand back and watch Sam die. Ever. Looking out for his little brother had been at the center of his entire life and having to live without him just wasn't an option.

He paused by the boarded door and turned to watch as Meg leaned back against the Impala. Though they had fought in the past and she'd threatened his life there was no other demon he'd rather cure than her. Slipping in through a gap between the boards, Dean stepped into the old church knowing that this was where he was going to die. Old pews still stood in rows, some damaged by water from a leaking roof, others carved with the names of those who'd ventured in long after the faithful had left. There was everything from trash to empty liquor bottles scattered around floor. Cigarette butts, a few discarded needles and scorch marks from a failed arson where among the first things he noticed. Though it was obvious the local teens had come and gone throughout the years, it looked as if no one had been there for quite some time now.

Dust covered floor boards creaked beneath his feet as he made his way down the middle aisle towards the front, dropping his duffle bag to the floor as he got down on his knees. "I don't even know where to start." He admitted, his eyes drifting up to the symbol of a cross in the stained glass rose window high above the altar. "I've done so much I regret, so much shit that I'm starting to doubt I can actually go through with these trials and use my blood to cure a demon..." He trailed off as he thought of a past marred with lies, fraud and theft among many other things he'd rather not mention out loud. "Never been much of the praying type, but help me accomplish just one last thing." He whispered. "Please, just help me do this one last thing."

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