21 | Salvation

A/n: The season is going to end and I'm excited!!! (Should I be?)

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I KNEW I WAS IN TROUBLE WHEN I FIRST HEARD YOUR LAUGH AND MY HEART DANCED TO THE SOUND

"I'm gonna ace this," you say as you look towards Caleb.

"Yeah, let's see," he says as his head shines in the afternoon sun.

You turn to your target, three cans stacked in a triangle kept at least 20 yards from you. You pull the trigger of the handgun Caleb gave you with a beautiful black handle that had a motif on it, much like Dean's. You had planned on asking what it meant but were too jittery to. You keep your arm straight and stiff so that you don't hurt yourself in the aftershock.

The sound of the bullet being launched and metal tearing through metal echoes in the empty field as you squeeze your eyes shut.

It was your third day of training and you were jittery with nervous energy.

The previous two days, Caleb's 'training' was reading up on lore to be well informed on the most common monsters like spirits, werewolves, and shapeshifters. You had been irritated by it and asked him to take a test on your knowledge which you passed. Answering all the correct answers made Caleb promise to take you to an abandoned field to teach you how to shoot a gun. You had regarded it off as quite a simple thing to do but learning how to hold a gun properly was very important. So was knowing how to load it but Dean had taught you that.

You open your eyes to look at the cans, surprised to see that the one in the middle had fallen to the ground, and on its way, toppling down the other two cans too.

You laugh. "Damn, first time and I'm a professional."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," he says as he takes out his ringing phone from his pocket. "It was probably a fluke."

He walks away to take his call and you imitate him.

Fluke or not, that was a good shot, you congratulate yourself.

When Caleb turns away, you start whirling the gun in your hand, putting it in your pocket and pulling it out like how cowboys did.

You turn your head when you see him walking towards you, fumbling with the gun a bit as you act like you weren't spinning it on your finger. You notice his distraught expression and how his eyes were trained on the barren, sandy ground.

"What's wrong?" You ask as you hold the gun in your hand for you to raise any time, in case anything happened.

"Pastor Jim," he says.

You remember that name from John's journal. "What happened to him?"

"I have to go," he says suddenly, looking up and grabs the duffel bag off the ground, walking towards his beat-up truck.

"What's going on?" You ask again, confused, quickly following him.

When Caleb doesn't answer, you speak again. "I'm coming with you."

Caleb turns around but doesn't say anything and you take it as a 'fine'.

In the truck, Caleb hands you a switchblade from his duffel bag. "Pure silver blade. Swiss Army knife won't do you any good."

"Really?" You ask as you take it in your hand. It wasn't too heavy or too light, just perfect. You push the blade down and then pull the lever, fascinated by how fast the blade came up.

"Hey, careful with that," Caleb says. "Take this, too," he says as he hands you a lighter and a torch.

You take the flashlight. "I already have a lighter, thanks."

Caleb nods with a small smile but you still notice the haunted look in his eyes.

~~

"Detective Casey and Detective O'Brien," Caleb says to the cop standing at the crime scene. You flip open your fake ID, careful to keep it straight.

On the drive to the house, Caleb told you about Pastor Jim's death, a fellow hunter. Caleb had been his friend for a long time and naturally was miserable hearing the news. Someone had slit the pastor's throat and Caleb knew that something evil had its hand in this.

You made your way to your temporary room, took out your 'formal' clothes to wear; a black skirt and a purple shirt with a blazer and of course your trusty sneakers.

The cop raises her eyebrows at your footwear.

"It's comfortable, " you whisper to her.

The cop nods with a small smile and pulls the yellow tape up to let you and Caleb enter.

You let out a breath, amazed at your luck. You guys walk silently to the basement where the pastor was found dead.

You look around the room. A chair was in the middle with blood on it. You assumed that there must have been ropes tying Jim to the chair but taken as evidence. On the wall, weapons hung, and to you, it somehow looked beautiful. Not dangerous, not violent. You take a deep breath, immediately regretting it.

"Is that sulfur?" You ask, disgusted by the pungent smell. It filled in your lungs and made you feel weird.

"It is," Caleb says while frowning, darting his eyes between the blood and the weapons. "A demon was here."

"Demons smell of sulfur?" You ask.

"I have to call John," Caleb says and walks out of the room. His eyes were shining like plastic beads in the light.

You purse your lips and nod your head and with one final look around the room, you leave.

~~

The next day came quickly. You were bored in the house and Caleb said it wasn't safe for you to leave. You had scoffed at that, basically making you a prisoner in the house but then he gave you this vintage copy of 'Moby Dick' to read. He was in his room, doing God knows what.

Sam had called you in the previous days. Though he knew Caleb, he always demanded to know if he was treating you well or not. You blushed at most of his questions; he was acting way overprotective. His voice was always hushed and somehow intimate. He had told you if how the Colt was their only chance at killing the yellow-eyed demon and how it was taken by vampires who were eventually killed by the Winchesters.

You were a bit sad, knowing that it wouldn't be you putting that bullet in the demon's head but then again, you weren't a hunter. Or not yet, at least.

Sam had said something weird the previous night. "After all if this is over, I can finally tell you, " he said. You had asked him what he meant but he hung up, saying that John was calling him.

You sigh and put the book on your chest as your mind drifts to your kiss with Sam.

You always thought that your kiss with Sam would be soft and slow, leaving the two of you breathless, like floating on clouds, surrounded with unicorns and angels.

Of course, neither angels nor unicorns were real but the feeling was.

The kiss was more desperate than soft. He had crashed his lips to yours and the kiss had turned desperate quickly with him swiping his tongue across your lips. It felt like he was desperately trying to finish an errand to go back home. It was urgent like maybe he thought that he could make you stay by kissing you.

But he wouldn't have kissed you if he didn't have feelings for you, right?

"Yeah, obviously," you scoff at your overthinking and flop down on your bed, smiling to yourself.

You don't hear the blonde demon entering the house.

Two minutes later, your phone buzzes in your pocket, distracting you from your thoughts about Sam.

It was a message from Caleb with only one word.

Run.

"What the-" you say loudly but then the sulfur smell hits you.

You widen your eyes. A demon was in the house. Maybe it was a far reach but you were still wary.

You quietly stuff your clothes, wallet, and laptop in your duffel bag, sling it around your shoulders and open the door of your room, wincing when it makes a creaking sound.

You tiptoe into the living room, the smell of sulfur getting stronger and stronger. You decide against calling out for Caleb because that was how people died in movies. Or in the movies you watched.

You were determined to know what was going on, even as the sulfur intoxicated your head. You blink slightly and stop right outside Caleb's room.

You hear two people talking. Caleb and a...woman.

You stand up straight. Huh, get it I guess, is your first thought but the text...

You stop the thoughts when you hear the woman's voice say Colt. Then you realized that Caleb wasn't talking much; the woman was talking on the phone. You had half the mind to barge in there, to ask what they knew about the Colt and why the place smelled like sulfur but your phone buzzes in your pocket as someone calls you. With one last look at the door with a frown, you turn around to walk into the living room.

You stand next to the couch, unsure what to do now.

"Hey Sam," you say, eyes still on the door. It was mostly silent. The smell was fading away now. Had you imagined it? No, you still felt a bit lightheaded from how strong the scent was moments ago. You were entitled to be paranoid in a hunter's home. But you still couldn't brush off the thought of why the woman said 'Colt'. And who was she talking to?

"Y/n, where are you?" He asks frantically.

"At Caleb's house. Why?"

"Get out of there! Now!" Your heart drops and you turn your back to the door unconsciously, trying to understand what was going on.

"Sam, what-"

You hear Dean in the background, asking Sam for the phone. There's a bit of a disturbance as if Dean snatched the phone from Sam. A second later, you hear Dean speaking, calmly but frantic at the same time.

"Y/n, get out of the house. Leave your stuff and get out, now."

You get up, glancing between Caleb's door and at the front door. "But Caleb-"

"Leave Caleb."

You frown and take a step towards the door, ignoring Sam and Dean's words. Your heart thuds in your chest. "Wait-"

The adrenaline in your blood makes you quickly go up to the door and fling it open. The strong smell of sulfur hits again. That's when you see a blonde woman with a pixie cut slit Caleb's throat. Blood sprays out, landing inches away from where you were standing. His head falls back on the chair he was tied on.

"Oh, my God," you stand there frozen with widened eyes and hanging jaw as the woman turns around to face you, Caleb's blood staining her fingers. Your hands fall to your sides and your heart thuds in your chest.

His blood trickles down to the floor, pooling at his and the chair's feet.

"What did you do to him?!" You plan to ask but you couldn't get the words out. You back out of the room and the woman who looked your age chuckles. She says something into the phone she was holding up and closes it.

"Y/n Y/l/n, didn't expect to see you here," she says in a calm and silky voice. There was a sense of arrogance surrounding her. "Well," she chuckles and it sounded so evil, "I can kill you, too. He didn't struggle much against me," she looks back at the man. "It wasn't fun at all."

"Fun?! You deranged bitch!" You shout, and run quickly to the couch and get your bag, not turning to see if she was behind you.

You run out of the house, breathing heavily. You turn around and see the woman smiling widely at you now with...black eyes?

Black eyes?

A demon. She was a demon.

You pump your legs and run down the path, ignoring the stares you got from people and your legs shouting for you to stop. You thank your luck when you turn back and see that she wasn't following you. You run into an alley and lean against the wall, trying to catch your breath. Caleb's lifeless body keeps on flashing in your mind.

"Y/n!" You hear someone shout in a muffled voice and you look around, breathing heavily.

You then realize that you hadn't cut the call and bring the phone up to your ear, panting heavily.

"Y/n?"

"I'm here," you say as you slide down the dirty, graffitied wall of an alley. "I- Sam, Caleb. It was my fault. I could've shot her, do anything. But I ran. Sam, I ran." Your breath catches in your throat.

"Y/n, don't blame yourself. You're okay. It wasn't your fault," he says soothingly.

You shut your eyes and take a shuddering breath, willing yourself not to cry. When you open your eyes, the brick wall in front of you becomes blurry because of your tears.

"Okay," you say.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine," you use your flannel sleeve to clean your face. "I'm fine."

"Y/n, please listen to me. I need you to go to Sioux Falls-"

"I'm not going anywhere else!" You cut him off, Caleb's face finding its way to your head again. "I'm not. No, no, no-"

"You need to be safe. That demon," he says the word with disgust, "is still out there. Please, Y/n. He'll keep you safe."

"That's what you said the last time!" You say, sniffing again. You look at the entrance of the alley to see if anyone was there. The sun was setting and the sky was painted in darker hues of red and blue. "And now he's dead. He's dead."

"I know," he says painfully. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. But you need to go here. I can't have anything happen to you. Please."

You tap your foot against the gray pavement and bite on your lip to keep it from trembling. "Okay," you finally breathe out.

You hear Sam sigh and he gives you the address. "I'm coming, Y/n. Soon."

You cut the call and bring it your chest, now letting the tears flow down your cheeks.

~

"Hello?"

"Y/n?"

"Hey, yeah, it's me," you say, trying to speak properly.

"What do you want?" The man asks coldly.

"I need a ride."

"A ride?" He asks incredulously.

"Yeah, to Sioux Falls," you say and look around yourself at the bus stand. You didn't see the blonde woman anywhere but you still kept the gun Caleb gave you under your flannel, holding it with your free hand.

"Okay, let me get this straight. You leave Minnesota with no explanation- I had to find that out from your parents by the way. After I take care of you, you leave without telling me," he pauses. "And now a month later, you call me, asking me for a ride?"

You wince. "Please, Chris."

"Forget it," he says and you frantically grasp for an excuse. You didn't need to make one up, though.

"A demon is trying to kill me," you say, your words tumbling out of your lips.

A pause.

"Chris?"

"Yeah?"

You sigh in relief. "A demon is trying to kill me and you're the only one I trust. Chris, please. I'm sorry about before."

A moment later, the British accented man speaks. "Where are you?"

You smile to yourself in relief and give him your address.

"You should be happy I'm a town over. I'll be there in an hour's time."

"I can't thank you enough," you say and cut the call.

For the next hour, you waited, paranoid as hell. At anyone who looked your way, you would look at them too, maybe creepy, but you wanted to see whether they had black eyes.

~

"Oh, thank God," you say, even if you were an atheist when you see Chris get off his Jeep. You hug him, the only familiar face after whatever had happened. It was dark now and the moon dominated the night sky.

"What happened?" He asks when he notices your eyes. Your haunted ones. Because every time you blinked, you would see Caleb's face, etched into the back of your eyelids.

You pull back and shake your head, your lips trembling slightly. "Let's just go, please."

"Yeah, sure," Chris says uncertainly. You thank the blue-eyed man and clamber into the jeep.

After feeling safe and secure for the first time in an hour, you tell Chris everything that happened, right from the start.

~~

Chris parks outside the address Dean messaged you. It was too dark to read the sign but you could see beyond the abandoned cars was an old house.

"You sure about this guy?" Chris asks as he takes your duffel bag from you and slings it over his shoulder.

"Dean told me about him," you say.

"Dean Winchester."

You look at him. "Do you know him?"

"No, I don't," Chris replies.

"So, I never asked but what are you doing here? In America?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're a hunter. Why would a hunter from Britain come here?" You ask.

"I and my wife lived here," he answers with a sad smile as you guys walk past all the stacked and old cars and towards the house.

"Your wife?"

"Yeah. Isabelle," he glances at you. "Married to her for two years when we went on a camping trip and that thing attacked us."

"Thing?"

"A wendigo. I barely got out of there alive but she-" he cuts off.

You nod and look up at him. "That's why you became a hunter, didn't you?"

"Yeah. I couldn't save Belle but at least I can save other people."

"I'm sorry," you mutter.

"You remind me of her," he says with a sad smile.

You smile at him and turn to the door, take a breath, and knock.

"Who are you?" The man with a beard and a dirty baseball cap asks when he opens the door after a minute. He wore an old flannel over a grey T-shirt, that bulged out where his stomach was, with faded jeans.

"Y/n Y/l/n," you say.

The man looks at the blond with his hand around you, keeping you upright.

"Chris Williams," he says.

"I don't care. What do you want?" The man says and raises his arm to show a sawed-off shotgun.

You take a step back with widened eyes.

"We're hunters," Chris says.

"Yeah, Dean Winchester sent me here."

The man's scowl softens at the mention of the Winchester's name. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam and Dean Winchester are my friends."

The man seemed to be fighting with himself on the inside. He finally sighs and puts the shotgun down.

"Bobby Singer. Come in," he replies gruffly and pushes the door back to let you in. Chris puts his hand under your elbow to help you walk even if you were fine without it. Bobby looks around to see whether anyone followed you guys and then finally shut the door.

After settling into the study of the old house which was connected to the kitchen, Bobby brings you a mug filled with hot coffee.

"So, why'd he send you here?" Bobby asks as he settles into the old, creaky chair at the table. Chris was standing, examining the house.

"I was staying with Caleb when a demon attacked. I ran and Dean told me to come here until they came."

"Where's Caleb?"

Your silence was enough to answer Bobby's question. He nods and purses his lips slightly as he looks down at his table.

"Why didn't you exorcise the demon?" He asks again.

"I'm not exactly a hunter. I just started."

"Obviously. Congrats on ruining your life, ya idgit," the man says and you raise your eyebrows. You had heard someone say that word before but you couldn't remember who.

He gets up and mumbles something under his breath that you don't hear.

"Let me take you up to your room," he says.

You get up and follow him up the stairs, giving Chris a look. "I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you but I thought that Dean would have called and-"

"It doesn't matter. I don't like hunters staying in my house and I would very much like you leaving tomorrow."

You nod your head. "Thank you."

After putting your duffel bag and taking a look around your once again temporary room, and sit down on the bed.

Caleb was a good man. He didn't deserve what happened to him. There were so many things you wanted to ask him; how he got into the hunting life and whatnot.

You look down at the black-handled gun and run your thumb along the carved motif.

The hunting life was dangerous, very dangerous. Hunters could die any minute and it would be written off as an accident because people wouldn't actually know what happened to them.

The heroes who take no credit.

It was funny to think that all your life, there must have been at least one time that a hunter may have saved your life without you even knowing.

You knew the cons of being a hunter, you knew the danger. Yet, the way your heart thrived during those hunts was the first time you had felt anything like it. You felt alive.

The knocking on your door breaks you from your reverie.

"Come in," you say, your voice coming weaker than you would've thought.

The blue-eyed man walks into the room, shuts the door behind him and walks to your bed. You hadn't noticed how graceful his movements were and how his feet didn't seem to make the floorboards creak.

"Hey," you say when he looks at you.

"That's a beautiful gun, " he pauses. "May I?"

You hand him the gun and see him hold it as it were porcelain, examining it with sharp eyes.

"It was Caleb's, " you mutter, trying to push away the images.

"Today must've been hard for you, " he says as he keeps the gun behind the two of you and looks into your eyes.

"Yeah," you chuckle humourlessly. "Are you leaving now?" You ask, not wanting to sound desperate.

"Yeah," he mutters.

"Oh, that's too bad," you smile weakly.

He gazes into your eyes and leans in suddenly and you pull back, cringing.

"Sorry-"

"Oh, shit, sorry I didn't mean to assume-"

You cringe as Chris tries to explain himself and scoots further from you. You chuckle awkwardly and rub the back of your neck. "No, that's fine. Um, I'm not. My...friend? Sam- it's complicated but I'm not looking for anything else right now."

Chris looks at you with a frown. "Yeah, yeah, I get it."

"I'm sorry." You say again. Is that why he came to pick you up? Cause he thought there was something still between the two of you. You cringe inwardly.

An awkward silence settles over the two of you and he finally stands up. "You've had a long day. I'll let you get your rest."

You nod and smile at him, watching him as he leaves your room and shuts the door behind him.

~

After not being able to sleep, you make your way downstairs. You took your phone with you, surprised that Sam hadn't called you yet.

When you notice the light of the study switched on, you visibly blanch. You swear when you realize that you had left your switchblade and gun in the room.

"Should I call Chris?" You ask yourself.

It's probably nothing. Definitely not the demon who told she would kill you for fun.

Your sarcastic statement comes true when you see that it's Bobby with a glass of scotch in his hand, sitting at the table. He looks up at you and you give him an awkward tight smile.

"Couldn't sleep?" You ask to break the ice.

He doesn't answer. You purse your lip and sit in the chair in front of him. "I couldn't. That's why I'm...awake."

He doesn't answer again. Instead, he gulps down his glass of scotch and gets up to leave the room.

"Wait," you say, not knowing what else to say to make him stay.

He turns around and looks at you with an eyebrow raised. "What?"

"Did you know Caleb?" You ask.

Now, the older man completely turns around to face you. He folds his arms on his chest. "Yeah, I did."

"I'm sorry," you mutter.

"That ain't gonna cut it," he says.

"I'm sorry that I'm disturbing you here. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Sam convincing me to come."

"How do you know the Winchesters?" Bobby asks after a small sigh and makes his way back to the chair in the study, sitting down and looking at you, genuinely curious. You notice that his eyes had softened.

"I met Sam in college and then I met Dean," you say.

"How'd you get into hunting?" He asks and his questions sounded like he'd asked them a hundred times to someone else.

"My friend. Jessica Lee Moore," you say, a sad smile finding its way onto your face as you think of her.

He nods a bit.

"You?"

He hesitates and pours himself another glass of scotch. "My wife."

You frown. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, everyone is," he pauses. "What about your parents? They hunters? I swear I know someone by the name Y/l/n."

"No, they're not. But they don't know that I'm hunting either."

"Well, you should stop hunting as soon as you find your friend's killer. Have you found your friend's killer?"

"No," you say, frowning. "Why does everyone say that hunting is...bad? I mean, I know it's dangerous but the feeling that you get when you save someone is," you pause and smile, "priceless." But your voice fades as you say it, the image of Caleb's head lolling to the side playing over and over in your head. Blood spraying.

Bobby chuckles slightly at your naive behaviour. "That's what everyone thinks at the beginning. But then you realize that it's a trap and there's no escaping because even if you try, there'll always be something to pull you back in."

Chills run down your spine at his words. "Wow, uh- that was- that was messed up."

"You're different from other hunters," Bobby says, more like it was a fact than a compliment.

"Thank y-"

"Because you haven't been through what we have."

And with that, he downs his glass of scotch and leaves the room, leaving you to ponder over his words.

[End of Episode 21 | Salvation]