Black Hole- Second Chapter

May 27th2010

The rain swept across in icy sheets, the wind whistled through the trees and the grayish light of the sun bleakly stole in through gray clouds racing across the sky. The street was deserted, puddles overflowing with muddy black water. The young boy ran across, shielding himself from the sleet with a book, wrapped in a slick raincoat. Under the shroud, he was smiling.

Nora.

She was better than anything that had ever happened to him. Screw the ‘plan’ and screw MIT -they didn’t matter anymore. Actually, he wondered if they ever had. His parents had been the ones to decide that future for him; he’d never been allowed to do anything but go along with it. But he was done- he didn’t give a flying crap about them and their plans. Sometimes he would silently thank the Winchesters- the ones he had wanted to hand over to the Devil – for a shot at rebelling in a ‘healthy, non –Satanic way’, for his first experience of freedom, for making him see what Sam saw in one day.
God, he owed them.

He didn’t know where they were, but he fervently hoped that they were safe and kicking it in the ass.
Gary unlocked the door and stepped inside, shutting the door on the cold wind. The house was echoingly empty and silent and he stopped, immediately sensing something wrong.

His mother had been home when he had left for Nora’s house. His father’s car was in the driveway. His sister had been at cheerleading practice, but hadn’t she returned since?

 “Mom?”

There was no response.

His voice echoed eerily in the silence. Only a table lamp glimmered at the far end of the hall, in the room with the pool table. As he stood near the door, blinking around in confusion, the light suddenly switched off.

He jumped, startled, but less than a second later it was back on again.

Odd.

And then he saw it, on the floor in front of him. The ruby-red liquid was slowly trickling down the stairs, and in the gray light, it looked a lot like-

“MOM! DAD! SYDNEY!”

The overwhelming rush of panic choked him and he couldn’t breathe. Slipping and sliding in the blood, he ran up the stairs. There was a light on in his room, the oak-wood floors gleaming in the beam from the half-open door. He raced to it and slammed it open.

The half-skinned bodies lay piled on the floor, mouths frozen in screams and faces contorted into the shape of the horror that had been their last emotion before their hearts gave way. The red-hot knives and cleavers still glowed on the bedside table. Standing in the middle of it all was a woman with curly blonde hair and eyes that should have been a pretty green, but were now inhuman and completely black. As he fell to his knees, his parent’s blood soaking his jeans, making a sound that was more animal than human, she turned – his next-door neighbor, Alice.

She smiled, her ruby-red lips curving up and her nose crinkling.

“Oh, hello, Gary. Remember me? I’m the one you exorcised out of that pretty little girl, Nora. It’s so nice to see you again.”

The blonde woman was circling him, his brain numbed in utter shock. Sidney was tied to the chair front of the computer, alive, gagged and splattered in blood from head to toe. Her tears were dry salt tracks and he stared at the way the glistened under the harsh white light, not taking in anything around him.

“Did you really think you would go unpunished?” Alice asked softly.

Four other men stood by her, eyes gleaming black, hands and faces covered in blood.

“Exorcising me, taking Dean and Sam Winchester out of our hands. Three months, Gary. That was three months ago. Oh, believe me, I would have happily come and killed you in the most dramatic way possible the next day, but my colleagues seemed to feel that this is better. You know, a few months of knowing what it is to be happy. And then spending the rest of eternity on the other side, burning and knowing that what happened to your family here- it’s all you, boy. You did this to them.” She put her face close to his. “Never, ever forget that, Gary,” she whispered. “You did this to them. Your mother and father were skinned alive because of your choices.”

She straightened up.

“And now, let me introduce you to the Morgan family, about to be re-carved.”

She held out her hand and a man handed her a cell phone. Suddenly, the sound of harsh breathing filled the room. A face filled the screen of the phone. She smiled widely and showed it to him.

“Why, hello again, Nora.”

This wasn’t happening, his mind whispered. This is a lie. A dream. A nightmare. Wake up, it urged. Wake up, Gary. It’ll be over. It’ll be gone.

Why am I not waking up?!

The woman was watching him, satisfaction spreading across her freckled face. She came near him again, her face close to his, her black eyes searching him hungrily.

“You see, Gary?” she whispered. “Nora and her family are about to die… because of you. Your parents are dead, because of you. Your sister will die- again because of you. But you…” her pink tongue moistened her red lips as her eyes glittered black- “Oh, you’re going to live, Gary. For a long, long time. We’ll make sure of that. Guess why? We’re winning, Gary!”

Thunder crashed and lightning glared outside as the storm whipped up into a frenzy.

“Last night, Sam Winchester said yes to our God. Today, right at this moment, the fight goes down- and we’re gonna win. And then… we’ll see that you live a long, healthy life- knowing to the last day that you did this– and when you’re done, we’ll make sure you go down the hole you sent me into. That’s when the real fun will begin- and boy, I’m gonna love it!”

Happy, bubbling laughter filled his ears as Gary shook on the floor. It’s not real, he thought. Wake up. Come on- wake up!

And suddenly the sound was gone.

Suddenly he was kneeling in a completely empty room, floor dry, his sister untied and unconscious in the chair, his parent’s bodies gone. His heart was racing and he scrambled up, hardly daring to breathe. He wanted to hear his mom in the kitchen, calling him down for lunch. He wanted to shake his sister from her sleep, now that he was finally awake from the terrifying dream. He wanted to rush downstairs and see them alive-

 “It wasn’t a dream.”

Gary stumbled backwards into the bed. His hands were shaking violently and his eyes were frozen wide open.

“Hello, Gary.”

Numbly, he took in the small, bald man in the black suit who was standing in the doorway.

 “I’m Crowley, the king- well, the new king of Hell. Pleasure and all that, I’m sure.”

His burning eyes went to the spot his parent’s bodies had lain. The place was empty; no sign that there had ever been a single drop of blood shed there. Crowley’s eyes followed his gaze.

“I cleaned up,” he said matter-of-factly, with the air of someone who had just taken care of a toddler’s spilt milk, “I thought you might appreciate it. Your parents now lie in the Housatonic town cemetery. Your sister has no memory of all this unpleasant business.”  

The demon narrowed his eyes.

“You, Gary, have been dabbling with very wrong crowds. Thankfully, you did stop that rather idiotic plan of yours to turn the Winchesters in or I’m not sure how wiling I would have been to call that one off you. But now it would seem that I owe you; so here’s my debt repayment. You see, just a few minutes ago the big fight had the big finale, and now Sam Winchester’s gone, and so is Lucifer. Thus it would seem that I’m the new boss in charge. I’ll make sure they don’t bother you again.”

The room was filled with soft gray light for the rain had quietened to a drizzle, a soft breeze swooshing in from the open windows.

“Don’t bother me again?” he asked, and his voice broke.

“Yes. To be quite honest, this has less to do with you and much more to do with the fact that she sided with Lucifer- but the end result’s the same, right? You live, your sister lives, I get my revenge, everyone lives happily ever after.”

 “And my parents?” he whispered, awareness finally crashing through the haze of terror and grief. “What about my parents?”

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “What about them?”

Sobs were finally escaping from his broken heart- he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t see. “Bring them back!” he shouted, and his words echoed in the empty house, mocking him. “I- now!”

Crowley looked closely at the form curled up on the clean grey carpet in front of him. “Sorry- no can do.”

He was really crying now, pounding the floor with his hands. “Why?! Why not?!!”

“Because everything’s got to have a price- and this is yours. You can’t expect to deal with the Devil and just walk away, kiddo.”

The room went in and out of focus as he clung to the very edge of his reason, but he could feel himself slipping into the black hole that lay beyond.

“Please…” he whispered, “Please… I’ll do anything… anything…”

“You can’t.” Crowley paused, and for a second the demon actually looked sympathetic, almost regretful.

But then he straightened the lapels of his suit.

“Well, best be on my way. Stay out of trouble, Gary. The deal we’ve made holds good only as long as you keep up your end of it.”

A tear blurred his eye, and Crowley was gone.

Alone in the monstrous, empty house, with his sister unconscious and his consciousness slipping, Gary’s world came crashing down around him and he was drowning- drowning- and he didn’t know if he would ever surface again-

“H P Lovecraft.”
The cursor blinked on the screen as Sam pressed search.
It was midnight, the wind howling and the rain hammering on the roof of the motel room. Two days had passed since his cracker of an escape from the headquarters of Sucrocorp
.
Two days since Dean was in purgatory.

Every time his mind turned to this thought, he took a swig of the cheap wine from the bottle beside the laptop. He had made his way through four bottles in the last hour. The letters were blurred on the screen and he didn’t realize that he already had made this search once, the results printed out in the bundle of papers next to the bed.
He wasn’t getting anywhere.
Frustration tore at his heart and he gripped the edge of the table, his heart pumping frantically, his brain threatening to give way under its own thoughts. He blinked a few times. He was also feeling a suspicious urge to cry. His throat burned and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t control himself and a sudden sob broke out. The next second it was gone, and he was again abruptly running on the manic sense of purpose that had sustained him for a few hours after his escape, before he pulled out a spanner from the tool box and attacked that stupid car, hacking at its stupid blue door and stupid flimsy glass, again and again and again until he collapsed beside it, his whole body wracking with his shuddering breaths.
Dean was gone!

He slammed the keyboard, his burning eyes boring into the screen. Just random strings of letters, nothing more, but… he had to keep typing. Or with each second, Dean passed further and further away…

“NO!”
With a cry he hurled the table away from him; his laptop fell the floor and smashed and so did the bottle of wine. He staggered to the bed, too drunk to notice or care that his hand was bleeding from the sharp shards of glass on the floor, and fell on top of it, fully clothed. His exhausted, over-worked brain sank into the blackness, sleep quietening the raging grief and anger in his heart.
The next morning dawned grey and soggy.
Sam woke up blearily, banging on the alarm clock to stop the annoying beeping. The drink had gone straight to his head, but he was more resistant now. He just lay there for a minute, breathing.
Three days.

Maybe it would be third time lucky.

But then he almost laughed at the suggestion of ‘lucky’ related to a Winchester, all in the same sentence.
Where do I start?

The gates to Purgatory need to be opened.

Yes. That was what Cas and Crowley had done, via a spell: the same spell they had used to open the gate again and let the souls back in. Except the Leviathans had resisted… and then all the shit of the past year had taken place. He had that spell.
But when they did it, they also let out the Leviathans. This time, if he allowed them to escape again, there would be no going back. That spell could not control the souls and allowed all of them to escape. So using that spell was out.
Well, fuck.

What now?

H P Lovecraft.

He had also opened a door to Purgatory, but that time, only one soul had escaped. How had he controlled the flow? Had he controlled it at all? There was only one way to find out.
I need that spell.

There it was- a solid place to start from.
There are not enough bees in this realm. 


The black wind of Purgatory whispered through the cream coloured trenchcoat as Castiel surveyed the undulating black forests of Purgatory from a black tree top. 

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