sunnydalealum | (no subject)

It's a bigger room, this time. The better to fit two dozen zhirelin in addition to the sorcerers themselves.

The conference room setup this time is much hastier, at Emma's orders. The table's been upended against the wall instead of removed entirely; the blood in the spell diagram is still tacky. Everything's in place, including the two most vital components: the real Kshaartian mandrake, and the Scythe.

Emma's trying hard not to pace as the two red-robed apprentices bend to light the first candles, as the priests in their darker robes begin chanting.

We're in the homestretch. Go. Go. Go.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

sunnydalealum

The sorcerer leaps aside to dodge the strike, with only limited success; the Scythe cuts a slit through the red robes, and a few threads of purple-brownish blood begin to seep through.

It's not a mortal wound, or even close to one, but the demon snarls -- more in rage than in pain. He brings up both hands in a peculiar gesture, as though holding an invisible ball and crushing it between his palms.

Yellow light blooms in the empty space, and rapidly intensifies into an eye-searing glare. There's barely time to see that it's happening before the core of light shoots out a beam at Sam.

From:

hopeitsworthit

You know how sometimes people do dumbass shit?

And it bites them in the ass?

Yeah?

That goddamn sorcerer just did something really fucking stupid.

Here's hoping Pyleans don't need dicks to reproduce. Or, you know, internal organs.

Dean remembers his info on Pylea, too, and he's always been a damn good shot.

He's moving again a second later--no sense being a stationary target. He can't afford to get put down until he's sure Sammy's all right.

From:

comm-npc-2.livejournal.com

... yeah, that's a mortal wound.

The beam dissipated harmlessly with the death of its caster, which is a good thing; it passed about a foot away from Sam, but that was close enough to leave the equivalent of a bad sunburn on his arm. He'll be feeling that later.

Meanwhile, though, two of the blue-scaled ones are moving in on Dean. They gesture in unison, and --

The wall shakes as Dean hits it hard, pinned to it in a spread-eagle.

From:

gavemea_45

He didn't have time to see it coming, but he'd had just enough warning from the movement of the sorcerer's hands to duck aside.

Or to try, at least, although if Dean hadn't shot when he had--

--but then his brother hits the wall hard, pinned there by the demons, and all the color in the room fades under a wave of terror mixed with a red-tinged haze of fury.

"DEAN!"

Only this time, it's not like the nightmares, not like before; this time, he can move, and move he does, yanking the Taurus from under his suit jacket with his right hand and beginning to fire.

(The Scythe's in his left; he'd drop the damn thing except that then all of this would be pointless, wouldn't it? Even as swept up as he is right now, there's a part of Sam Winchester that's clear and cold enough to know that.)

He's firing on the move; he needs cover, or they're both gonna die--

--there's an overturned table.

From:

sunnydalealum

There is; and for the moment there's nothing between him and it.

And behind it is Emma, crouched nearly to the floor, near-silently swearing at her cellphone as it buzzes the CALL FAILED signal again.

Looking up at the movement in her peripheral vision, eyes wide with panic and rage.

From:

gavemea_45

He's not even conscious of making the decision.

The Scythe hits the ground with a thwack as he dives behind the table, coming up under its cover in a half-crouch with one foot on the Scythe, one knee on the ground--

--and an arm pressed tightly against Emma's throat, the gun at her temple.

"Nobody leaves this room, isn't that what you said?"

His voice is low and tight with the effort of keeping control; Sam's eyes are hard and flat.

"Call them off right now, or the only way you're going out of here is in a body bag."

From:

sunnydalealum

Emma's frozen still, still holding her cellphone loosely in one hand; her gaze tracks from the gun at her head to the implacable eyes staring into hers.

She inhales, and wets her lips.

"Trust me," she manages, in passable tones of threat, "you don't want to do that."

From:

comm-npc-2.livejournal.com

On the other side of the makeshift barrier, the room has gone far too quiet.

Two of the demons, the ones whose spell is pinning Dean to the wall, are studying him with a kind of detached curiosity in the brief lull. A third is sprawled against the far wall, muttering over its injured leg; the bleeding stops and the bullet hole in the scaly flesh starts to visibly knit itself back together.

Two more are slowly, silently, advancing on the overturned table.

From:

hopeitsworthit

You know, somehow Dean's got the feeling that he's been here before.

Oh.

Yeah.

That'd be because he has.

"Goddammit, I hate when this happens. Hey, jackass. What're you looking at? You better not be plannin' anything kinky, dude. That's just nasty."

Meanwhile he's scanning the area, looking for--ah. Sammy's gotta be down there. Okay. He can work with this.

Now lets see about getting down from this godforsaken wall.

From:

gavemea_45

Click.

Sam cocks the hammer back without even an eyeblink's worth of hesitation.

"You don't want to make the mistake of thinking that'll stop me, Emma."

Believe it. Make her believe it.

"If we're all gonna die here, you'll be first."

From:

sunnydalealum

"And your partner'll be second."

It's not quite a shot in the dark -- this one's the voice she heard yelling a name just now. She's not looking at the gun anymore; her eyes are steady on his, and one might even believe the look if it weren't for the tension in her neck and shoulders.

"How about instead you move your arm, and we both stand up really slowly, and see if maybe we can stop the fighting long enough to talk terms."

From:

gavemea_45

If she was hoping for a reaction, she got one.

"You want terms? Fine."

Something dangerous flares in Sam's eyes, and every muscle in his body tenses, bringing him to the edge of action.

"Call them off. Do it now, or die."

From:

sunnydalealum

Her jaw clenches for a second, lips pressing together whitely ... and then moving in a tiny betraying tremor.

She draws a deep gulp of breath, her throat working against Sam's forearm, and raises her voice to carry. "Stand down. Everybody."

From:

hopeitsworthit

Dean manages a smirk at the demonic sorcerers.

Hey, somebody's gotta do it.

"You heard the--"

bitch

"--lady. Stand down."

From:

sunnydalealum

They exchange glances, and step away from Dean and from the table. One of the blue-scaled ones moves its hand, and the spell holding Dean relaxes slightly, so that he slides down the wall until his feet touch the floor.

(He still can't move away from the wall, though.)

From:

gavemea_45

He doesn't allow himself to breathe a sigh of relief, not yet.

"Get up."

Sam takes Emma by the arm and stands, pulling her to her feet along with him. The gun doesn't waver, even as he sweeps a fast glance over the room, his gaze meeting Dean's in the process.

From:

sunnydalealum

"You two with the Council?"

She's keeping her eyes on him, not letting herself glance at the others.

From:

hopeitsworthit

Dean ain't too happy about the fact that he can't move his arms. Or his legs.

Or any of the rest of him.

But he's not gonna show that to anybody.

So Emma just gets a crooked smile.

"You even askin' that question, sweetheart, says you've pretty much made your mind up."

From:

sunnydalealum

"Nooo ... if I'd made my mind up, that would have sounded like this."

A small simulated gasp, and in stylized tones of realization: "You're with the Council!"

From:

gavemea_45

"Funny."

His hand tightens on her arm.

"Now. Here's how this is going to work. You're going to release my partner, we're going to take our leave, and you get to live."

From:

sunnydalealum

"Or," she says thoughtfully, "you shoot me, my colleagues here kill the two of you, and I have a slightly better position to take at my next performance review. Which, let me tell you ..."

A tight smile, wry on the surface and furious underneath. "Not looking forward to it."

(She's still working hard not to look down.

Sam's foot isn't quite as solidly on the Scythe anymore.)

From:

hopeitsworthit

Okay, maybe this calls for different tactics.

And Dean isn't ever gonna forget what he looked like as a skinwalker. Or, you know, what a skinwalker looked like when it looked like him.

"Guess that means we're gonna leave you for last, then."

Dean's smile this time isn't pretty at all.

Here's hoping the bravado behind it is hidden.

"Means we can take our time, right?"

From:

sunnydalealum

She looks at him, and her mouth twitches slightly.

"Good luck with that."

And overlapping her last word, one of the blue-scaled demons seems to collapse in on itself, the red robe sinking to the floor in a billow of fabric --

-- and out of it leaps something gray and four-legged and hideous, right at Sam.

From:

gavemea_45

There's no time for thought, and no real need for it as survival instinct combines with years of training and reflex.

Sam shoves Emma aside and trains his gun on the creature, firing rapidly.

From:

hopeitsworthit

Dean tries to yank himself forward, to get away from the fucking wall, but--

Well, hey, what do you know?

It works.

He stumbles forward a step, training taking over as he hears the shots, as he sees--