Chapter Text
Dean and Mary moved with purpose, the sound of their footsteps barely audible on the cold, hard pavement as they approached the address given over the police scanner: 9437 South Evergreen Street. The neighborhood was eerily quiet, the kind of quiet that prickled the skin and made the hairs on the back of the neck stand on end. The distant hum of the city was all but swallowed up by the oppressive stillness that surrounded them.
They reached the corner of the block, and Dean motioned for Mary to stop. They huddled close to the side of a building, staying out of sight as they observed the house across the street. It was an old, two-story brownstone, its windows darkened and the front door slightly ajar, as if waiting to swallow anyone who dared to enter.
"We go in quiet, no heroics," Dean whispered, his voice low and steady. "We don't know how many are inside or what we're dealing with. We find Marie, get her out, and then figure out the rest."
Mary nodded, her expression grim. "If they're framing her, there's a good chance this is a trap. We need to be ready for anything."
Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out his gun, checking the magazine before sliding it back into place. Mary did the same; her movements were quick and practiced. They exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them. This was the moment they'd been preparing for.
Together, they crossed the street, staying low and moving quickly. They reached the front steps, and Dean paused, listening for any sounds from within. The house remained eerily silent, the only sound the faint creaking of the door as it swayed gently in the wind.
Dean pushed the door open, the old hinges groaning in protest. They slipped inside, their eyes adjusting to the dim light. The interior was just as unsettling as the exterior—dusty furniture covered in white sheets, the air thick with the smell of mildew and something else, something faintly metallic.
Mary pointed to a staircase leading to the basement. Dean nodded and took the lead, moving cautiously down the narrow steps. The deeper they descended, the stronger the metallic scent became until it was almost overpowering.
At the bottom of the stairs, they found themselves in a dimly lit basement. The walls were lined with old, rusted tools, and the floor was stained with years of neglect. In the center of the room, bound to a chair, was Marie.
Her head hung low, her dark hair obscuring her face. Her wrists were tied tightly to the arms of the chair, the rope digging into her skin. She looked battered and exhausted, but as Dean and Mary approached, her head lifted slightly, and her eyes met Dean's.
"Marie," Dean whispered, rushing to her side. He quickly began working on the ropes, his hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins. "We're getting you out of here."
Marie's eyes, though tired, sparkled with a mix of relief and fear. "Dean... you have to get out of here. It's a trap. They're coming—"
Before she could finish, the sound of footsteps echoed from the top of the stairs. Dean and Mary froze, their eyes darting to the staircase. Shadows loomed on the walls, and three figures descended into the basement within seconds.
The man in the lead was tall and broad-shouldered, his expression cold and calculating. It was Tyi, the man who had captured Marie. Behind him were two others, both armed, their guns trained on Dean and Mary.
"So predictable," Tyi said, his voice dripping with disdain. "The Winchesters, always rushing in to save the day. But today, you're not leaving here alive."
Dean slowly stood, his hands still at his sides, his grip tightening on his gun. "Let her go, Tyi. You don't have to do this."
Tyi laughed, a low, menacing sound that echoed through the room. "Do you think I'm scared of you? You're just men playing at being heroes. But me? I'm part of something bigger than you could ever imagine."
Dean exchanged a quick glance with Mary. They were outnumbered and in a confined space—this was bad. But they had been in bad situations before, and they had always found a way out. Mary's eyes flicked to a rusted pipe hanging low from the ceiling, just above Tyi and his men. Dean followed her gaze and gave a slight nod, understanding her plan instantly.
"You're right, Tyi," Dean said, his tone deceptively calm. "But here's the thing—we don't need to be heroes. We just need to be survivors."
In one swift motion, Dean dropped to one knee and fired at the pipe above Tyi's head. The bullet hit its mark, and the pipe burst, releasing a spray of scalding steam directly into the faces of Tyi and his men.
The basement erupted in chaos. The men cried out in pain and confusion as they tried to shield themselves from the steam. Dean sprang into action, grabbing Marie and pulling her from the chair as Mary fired at the remaining men, precisely taking them down.
"Go!" Mary shouted, covering their retreat as Dean half-carried, half-dragged Marie up the stairs. They burst out into the cool night air, their breaths ragged as they raced toward the Impala parked a block away.
They didn't stop running until they reached the car. Dean helped Marie into the backseat, and Mary jumped into the passenger seat. Dean started the engine, the tires screeching as they sped away from the house.
For a few moments, the only sound was the roar of the Impala's engine as it tore down the deserted streets. Then, Marie spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "They're part of something bigger, Dean. Something dangerous. I overheard them talking... they're after something, and it involves all of us."
Dean glanced at her in the rearview mirror, his expression grim. "We'll figure it out, Marie. But first, we need to get you somewhere safe."
Mary reached back and squeezed Marie's hand. "You're safe now, and that's what matters. We'll deal with whatever comes next together."
As the Impala roared through the night, putting more distance between them and the trap they had just escaped, the three of them knew that the battle was far from over. Whatever they were up against was coming for them—and they would be ready.
——-
The Impala rolled into the dimly lit parking lot, pulling up next to the motorhome with a low rumble. The tension in the car was thick, but there was also a sense of relief. They had gotten Marie out safely, but they all knew this was just the beginning. Dean cut the engine, and the three of them sat silently for a moment, the only sound being their heavy breaths.
Marie winced as she tried to shift in her seat, the bruises from her ordeal still fresh. Dean turned around to face her, his expression softening. "We're here, Marie. Summer's inside with Jess. We need to move fast."
Mary nodded, already scanning the area to ensure they hadn't been followed. "Let's get them inside, get their stuff, and get out of here."
Dean opened the car door and stepped out, motioning for Mary to help Marie. As soon as Dean and Mary approached the motorhome, Summer opened the door, holding baby Jess in her arms. Her eyes widened with a mix of relief and worry as she saw Marie's condition.
"Marie!" Summer's voice trembled as she rushed down the steps, careful not to jostle Jess too much. "Oh my God, what did they do to you?"
Marie managed a weak smile as Summer embraced her, holding her tightly as if she feared she might disappear again. "I'm okay, Summer. Thanks to Dean and Mary."
Dean, ever practical, cut the reunion short. "We don't have much time. We need to get you all back to the bunker where it's safe. This motorhome is too easy to trace. If they know Marie's in the area, they'll be watching for it."
Summer looked at Dean, her brow furrowed in concern. "You want us to leave it? But how are we going to get everything?"
"We'll take what we need and leave the rest," Dean said firmly. "We don't have a choice. If they find this thing, they'll be on us in no time."
Mary added, her voice calm but urgent, "It's too dangerous to keep driving it. We'll get you to the bunker, and then we can figure out our next move. But right now, safety is the priority."
Summer hesitated, glancing back at the motorhome. It had been their home for so long, a place filled with memories and a sense of normalcy in their chaotic lives. But the gravity of the situation was apparent, and she knew Dean was right.
"Okay," Summer finally agreed, her voice steady despite her inner turmoil. "Let's get what we need."
Dean and Mary helped Summer and Marie inside the motorhome, and together, they quickly began gathering essentials. Summer packed clothes and supplies for Jess while Marie collected a few personal items. Her movements were slow and deliberate due to the pain she was in. Dean and Mary worked efficiently, knowing they were on borrowed time.
As they moved through the motorhome, Jess began to fuss in Summer's arms, picking up on the tension around her. Summer rocked her gently, trying to soothe her as she grabbed the last of the baby's things. "Shh, it's okay, sweetie. We're going on a little trip."
Marie, who had been silent for most of the time, suddenly paused, holding a small, weathered box in her hands. She stared at it for a moment before slipping it into her bag. Dean noticed and gave her a questioning look, but Marie just shook her head. "It's nothing, just something I need to keep safe."
Dean nodded, trusting her judgment. They were almost done, and the urgency to leave grew by the minute. As Mary zipped up the last bag, she turned to Dean. "We're ready."
Dean looked around the motorhome one last time, ensuring they hadn't left anything important behind. "Alright, let's move."
They exited the motorhome, and Dean helped Marie into the backseat of the Impala. Summer strapped Jess into her car seat in the back while Mary loaded the bags into the trunk. The night was still, but there was tension in the air, as if they were being watched.
Once everyone was in the car, Dean started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. The motorhome was growing smaller in the rearview mirror. The Impala roared down the road, putting as much distance between them and the motorhome as possible.
As they drove, Marie leaned back in her seat, exhaustion etched into her features. "I'm sorry," she said softly, her voice barely audible over the engine's sound. "I didn't mean to drag you all into this."
Dean glanced at her in the rearview mirror, his expression serious but not unkind. "You're family, Marie. We don't leave family behind. Whatever this is, we'll figure it out together."
Mary turned in her seat to face Marie. "He's right. You're not alone in this. We'll get to the bottom of it and keep you safe."
Summer reached over and took Marie's hand, squeezing it gently. "We'll be okay. We have to be."
The Impala sped down the highway, the road stretching out before them like an uncertain path. They were heading to the bunker, a place of safety and security, but the dangers they were facing were far from over. As the city lights faded behind them and the open road loomed ahead, they knew that whatever awaited them, they would face it together. The darkness of the night was thick, but as long as they were together, they had a chance to find the light at the end of the tunnel.
—-
Sam sat on the edge of the bed, watching Eileen as she brushed her hair in front of the mirror. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the room, highlighting the soft, peaceful atmosphere they had created for themselves—a rare sanctuary from the chaos that often surrounded their lives. But tonight, Sam had something important to discuss that had been weighing on his mind since Lucifer brought it up.
Eileen noticed Sam's thoughtful expression as she set down her brush. She turned to face him, her eyebrows raised in curiosity. "What's on your mind?" she signed, her fingers moving gracefully as she communicated in the language they both knew so well.
Sam smiled, still amazed at how effortlessly they communicated, even in silence. But his smile faded slightly as he took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "It's about Lucifer," he began, his voice soft but serious.
Eileen's expression shifted from curiosity to concern. She moved closer to Sam, sitting down beside him on the bed, her hand resting on his arm. "Is he okay? Did something happen?"
"He's fine. Well, physically, at least. But something happened when he was in the hospital after the snake bite. He asked me for something, something that's a little… unexpected." Sam shook his head quickly, wanting to reassure her.
Eileen tilted her head, her worry not entirely dissipated. "What did he ask for?"
Sam looked into her eyes, searching for the right way to explain it. "He asked to be baptized. Not just in the way we did before, but properly—in a church, with a ceremony. He wants it to be formal, with a celebration afterward."
Eileen's eyes widened in surprise. She hadn't expected that. "He's always been a spiritual kid," she signed slowly, processing the information. "But why now? Why so suddenly?"
Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I think everything he's been through—almost dying, being saved by Gabriel, feeling like he's part of something bigger—has made him want to solidify that connection. He told me that the first time he was baptized brought him peace and comfort, and now he wants something more. Something official."
"It makes sense. Luci always been introspective, and with everything happening around him, he's searching for stability, something to anchor himself to." Eileen nodded, understanding beginning to dawn on her.
Sam leaned back against the headboard, his eyes distant as he thought about his son. "He's been through so much, Eileen. More than most kids his age. I think he's looking for something that will give him a sense of belonging, a way to connect with his faith and identity on a deeper level."
Eileen gently touched her husband's cheek, drawing his attention back to her. "You've done a great job raising him, Sam. We both have. If this is something he wants, something that will bring him peace, then we should support him."
Sam's eyes softened as he looked at Eileen, grateful for her unwavering support. "You're right. I just wasn't sure how you'd feel about it. It's not something we discussed, and I didn't want to push anything on him."
Eileen smiled, her fingers brushing against his skin as she signed, "Lucifer's choice to pursue this is his own. It's not something we're pushing on him—it's something he's asking for. If it brings him comfort, then I'm all for it."
Sam let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, relief washing over him. "I'm glad you feel that way. I told him we'd do it after Dean and Mary get back. I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page."
"We'll plan it together. It'll be something special for Lucifer, something he can hold on to as he grows older. And who knows? Maybe it'll help him navigate everything that's coming his way." Eileen nodded, her smile warm and reassuring.
Sam wrapped his arms around Eileen, pulling her close as he kissed the top of her head. "Thank you, Eileen. For always being here, for understanding. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Eileen nestled into his embrace, her heart full of love for the man she had chosen to share her life with. "We're in this together, Sam. Whatever happens, we'll face it as a family."
They sat silently for a while, holding each other, both comforted by their shared connection. The world outside might be filled with dangers and uncertainties, but in this moment, they were united in their love for their son and their determination to give him the peace he sought.
After a while, Sam pulled back slightly, looking down at Eileen with a thoughtful expression. "We should start making plans. Find a church and figure out the details. Make it something special."
Eileen nodded, her eyes bright with determination. "We will. It'll be perfect."
As they began discussing the logistics, their minds whirred with possibilities. They both knew that this was more than just a ceremony—it was a way to show Lucifer that no matter what happened, he was loved, supported, and connected to something greater. It was a promise that they would always be there for him, guiding him through the challenges that lay ahead.