Under a blood red sky

It had been a few days since Jo had lost control of her mind again. Those in the driver's seat had used her body to spirit several people away. It was easy to use her trustworthy face to escort potential victims to their doom.

Everything was in place now for the ritual to open the gate. There was just one key component needed. The other sacrifice.

The blood of one ripped out of Heaven by demons and one rescued from Hell by angels would serve as perfect counterbalances to each other and would rip that gate wide open, unleashing Hell on the town of York and the world.

The cell phone that had been turned off for the last few days was now turned on. Jo's fingers dialed the number that would get exactly what they needed and waited for an answer.

Sam's conversation with Molly had gotten him to thinking. He'd told her that not even the devil himself could make him abandon his family, or friends, and as he'd said it, he realized there was something that he needed to do, in order to make good on his word. To make sure that he didn't let anything drive a wedge between himself, and his brother.

So he sat down with his phone that morning, and tried to compose some kind of message, to let Dean know that he was ready to face the world again. He wasn't totally healed yet, mentally or emotionally, but he knew the only way to continue healing was to get out of his head and back into the saddle--so to speak.

Just a few quick words. He knew Dean wasn't one for big, sentimental speeches.

Got any jobs for me? I'm ready to get back to work.

He'd sent the text, then shot off a quick one to Molly, as well:

What's the word?

Then he tucked his phone into his pocket, and headed out for a run. Maybe he'd pick up a paper, or some 'gossip' at the local diner when he stopped for his mid-morning caffeine fix. If not, maybe he'd head back to bother Dean and Jo, anyway.

The past always comes back to haunt you. Always. In Molly's case it never really leaves her alone, but she thought the extent of the haunting stopped at the nightmares, paranoia and insomnia. Wrong. The decision to alter Harry's memories after he had hired Kincaid to kill him came back with a vengeance. Kincaid was in town apparently, and had told Murphy the truth. Murphy, who then confronted Molly about her involvement in it. Understandably, Murphy was upset. VERY upset. But now so was Molly.

She'd left the apartment as quickly and as quietly as she could, even to the point of putting her boots on outside, sitting on the steps to the apartment building. Then she'd ran as fast as she could in a random direction. She didn't care where she was going, she just wanted away. Her mind raced over that night in the office in St. Mary's. Harry's back was broken. His daughter a hostage of the Red Court, and him desperate to get her back. Molly loved Harry. She has for a long while now and not just because he saved her skin. She'd have done anything to help him...and did, even though it could have and possibly still could mean that Doom fell down on her from the Wardens.

She didn't notice the tears that streaked her face until she finally stopped running, breathless from crying and her exertions. A doorstep looked inviting for some reason and she sat down, letting her face fall against her arms with her hands wrapping around her head as she cried, shaking with upset and the cold. She didn't notice the number to the motel room on the door at her back let alone realize why it would have been familiar to her.

Sam had smiled through Christmas and New Years, and to be honest, things had been mostly okay. Relatively speaking. He still had ups and downs, but most of his worries were for other people, more than himself. He'd owned his decision to go dumpster diving with Lucifer, and now he owned his post traumatic stress.  It could always be worse.

Tuesday, however, was still his least favorite day of the week, ever since the Mystery Spot with Loki, so he'd needed a little extra something at the end of the day. Just to unwind. Yes, he knew drinking himself to sleep was not the best idea, but having a drink and falling asleep to bad TV was okay. Right? Of course right. As long as he could catch a few hours uninterrupted, he knew things would look better in the morning.

Her light show was barely holding them back, but it was doing enough for Thomas to slash open a flabby, leathery belly. Blood splashed out in a too hot wave as the Red Court vampire screeched in pain and fear only to be replaced by two more, Molly's strobing lights picking them out in the night like one of those old black and white horror films.

Molly cringed into herself where she sat in a snow drift under a tree next to a brightly decorated house. The softly blinking lights picking out the faded colors in the ends of her hair and made her flinch whenever they shined on her. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her drawn up legs, and she shivered but it might be argueable what caused it, the cold or her memories.

Flashing blue lights joined the Christmas lights with a more manic strobing from the direction of the street in front of the house. Molly didn't even notice the change until the police officer touched her. Apparently he'd been talking to her, asking her to move along. It seems the home owners had seen her huddled under their tree and called the police to get her off their property. Lost as she was in her memories the officer's voice never penetrated, but touching the Ragged Lady was bad.

One of them had managed to get through her One Woman Rave and grab her arm. She lashed out with a well placed kick which sent the bat faced vampire towards Sanya while she darted away for a better position.

The cop was shouting for her to stop from where she'd knocked him down into the snow bank. She set off a blinding bomb of light to cover her flight as she ran from the yard, believing she was back in Chichen Itza and surrounded by the Red Court. She wanted to shout for help, but didn't want to draw even more attention to herself. They needed to keep them off of Harry and Susan as they try to stop the Red King's ritual. She was alone, yet not. Her thoughts turn to her family, Harry but she keeps fighting them down so she doesn't get distracted.

Molly ran.

Sam hadn't shaved since his arrival in York, and his hair hadn't been cut in who knows how long, but he wasn't about to get gussied up just to meet his brother. Dean could take it or leave it. 

Yeah, Sam wanted to see him, on the one hand. But on the other, he was still a little anxious, because he knew that Dean would probably give himself an ulcer if--and when--he found out that his kid brother was back, even if Sam didn't tell him how much of his memory was still intact from his time down below. Dean had been there. Dean had tried to hide it. And if Sam knew his brother, Dean was probably still drinking himself to sleep.

But sometimes it was better to rip off the band-aid (or the duct tape) and get it over with.

Sam wasn't doing so hot. He could be worse, and compared to where he'd been, he was a whole lot better off. But he had nightmares, which lead to insomnia, and he sometimes got jumpy around other people, if he didn't have something--like a job--to channel his focus. He was dreading what his brother would or wouldn't say when they were finally reunited. 

So he ran. At least once a day, he went out for a run. Sometimes in the early morning, when he couldn't sleep; sometimes in the evening to try and tire himself out.

Dean stood at the edge of the maze, mag light in one hand and a bag full of everything but the kitchen sink on his shoulder. He had two hidden guns, a concealed knife, a jacket pocket full of extra salt rounds, a lighter, accelerant, a vial of holy water...and the Zippo lighter the man in the tent had given him. He wasn't going to think too hard about that one.

He'd been hearing accounts of people seeing Freddy Kruger chasing people around the fair grounds. He'd heard more than one person say that Freddy'd gone after one guy, just one guy. And that description sounded a lot like the demon that went after Jo.

Dean figured there was a good chance the answers about this fair were inside this maze. And he wasn't really looking forward to going in.

"Y'know, Cas," Dean whispered. "Now would be a good time for you to stop sucking so hard." He sighed, and started into the maze. "Yippee kay-ay, motherfuckers."