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dixiehellcatYes, it keeps getting longer. Hope that doesn't bother anybody. :D Also hope nobody minds that this is a rather looong chapter--I get to write during the week but usually only have time to type and post on weekends. So if you're not caught up this far, you will likely have all week to get that way.
Again, as ever, my thanks and props to the wonderful xXTailo-Lives-OnXx for permission to play with the situation originated in the fic The Other Side. <3
Rated R--Language, and some more whumpage, ahead. And notes at the end you may find interesting. :-)
5 Sam asked for the video from the Kansas lockdown, so I texted Billy. [Hey—I talked to my experts & they need 2 see the lockdown footage b4 deciding how to proceed. Could u send it 2 me, or better yet upload it & send me a link? They say it is def a demon, it's prob still in Zak, and it has Zak in there w/it. Will let u know when I know more. Thx.]
I sent the same information to Nick, and then went about my Sunday feeling both grave and hopeful. If there was a way to break those walls and bring Zak out of that prison, I was damn well going to find it. I got online and started researching, and didn't come up for air till my phone beeped again. I grabbed it, hoping it was Sam.
It wasn't. It was Zak. Or, rather, it was a text sent from Zak's phone, by the thing that had stolen his body and his life. [Claire—I've been trying to reach you for over a week now. I miss you terribly, but there are many more fish in the sea. If you aren't interested in continuing our relationship, let me know. Don't leave me in limbo.]
Limbo, ha, I thought. Don't worry. The only place I want to see you in is Hell, you piece of shit. From what I'd learned about Zak, if he had sent a text in a similar situation, it probably would have gone more like [Claire—WTF? Call me!] Or maybe [Claire—WTF? Ok, I'm sorry. Call me!]
A week ago, I would have deleted the text without a thought. I had in fact deleted every other message he—it—had sent. An hour ago, despondent, I might have replied [I know what u r] and let the chips fall where they might. But now…it was important to keep a safe distance, true, but equally important to keep an open connection, so as not to arouse its suspicions when I was ready to go after it. So I replied [I don't mean 2 do that. I still care about u. just give me a lil time 2 get myself 2gether, plz?]
[I will] came the swift response, [but don't expect me to wait forever.]
[I won't. I promise. Thanx.] I hit Send with satisfaction. The fish was on the hook; now to keep it there while I learned how to land it.
Thus began my double life. By day I filed and sorted and helped with lab tests and occasionally got pulled into the CSI office to add some extra brain cells to a thorny case. By night, I learned to cast out demons. Sam was a thorough, patient teacher, who explained not only what to do but why. He emailed me the complete ritual of exorcism, recipes for holy water, and drawings he swore would snare the demon and its 'meatsuit' or possessed body like flypaper. Every couple of days I sent a text to Zak's phone, something in the 'thanks for your patience, I'm working through my issues' vein, just enough to keep myself a viable option in the demon's eyes.
I rehearsed every gesture, and practiced the Latin words till they rolled off my tongue as the few my uncle had taught me long ago once had. Sam insisted the pronunciation had to be note-perfect, so I borrowed the battered little camera from the GAC's last lockdown and filmed myself, then sent the video to Sam for his review. I told Nick my 'experts' wanted to use it for evidence gathering during the exorcism. I did not, however, tell him I intended to do the exorcising; he struck me as the kind of guy who would be no happier than my uncle at that prospect.
Weirdly, the longer I studied, and the deeper I delved into the realm of demonology, the more, and more vividly, I dreamt of the grey prison. They were always lucid, and they became so clear that I started to wonder if they were mere dreams at all. Nick had said once that Zak, despite his protests to the contrary, was exceptionally sensitive to spiritual energies. If my studies had opened me up to those energies as well, could I be touching Zak's awareness, seeing his world as he saw it? That thought left me torn: I desperately wanted to make contact, to let Zak know help was on the way, but that might alert his captor too. I couldn't risk it knowing I was on to its sick game. So, I stayed in the shadows…until one terrifying and glorious night when all that changed….
::I hide outside the cell, chilled by the demon's guttural chuckles, and bite back screams of grief and fury at every low cry of pain that I hear. Zak is still resisting, with everything in him, but he's weakening, I can tell. How much longer can he hold on, before he breaks and loses himself? Fear takes hold of me and moves me up to the cell's barred door. The demon admires its handiwork, licking blood off the blade. Zak's motionless except for an occasional twitch; the shackles binding his wrists to the wall are all that's holding him upright. The wounds left by the demon's knife are already fading; I know it does that, so it can have a fresh canvas on which to paint new pain. There's a chain wrapped tightly around his neck, reminding me of nothing so much as a dog's choke collar. His head hangs low, his dark hair matted with sweat and blood. Look up, I think. See me. If you think you're hallucinating, if IT thinks you are, that's okay. Maybe even a hallucination could give you enough hope to hang on.
As if he hears me, his head rises, so painfully slowly. His eyes are unfocused and dazed, but when they meet mine there's still a spark of life there, and they sharpen. I put a finger to my lips; his gaze flicks away, then up toward the ceiling, as if in appeal or thanks to the heavens. The demon starts to say something taunting, but Zak cuts him short with a hoarse but fervent 'Fuck you'.::
I woke with tears in my eyes, as I always did from those dreams, but this time the anguish was tempered by a hint of hope, a spark like the spark in Zak's eyes. And pride too, as silly as that may sound. Damn, he's strong! And smart. He understood immediately that he had to hide my presence. Hold on, baby, hold on, just a little longer…
That was Thursday morning, and that night, Sam declared I was ready. [Your Latin sounds almost as good as Bobby's, and your delivery's strong, nothing timid about it. That's vital: show no fear when you're facing a demon, ever. I think I told you that already, didn't I?]
[Yes, several times, along with pages of other useful tidbits] I typed back. We met in a private chat room, using it as our personal classroom and workshop.
[:-p] Sam replied. [Good thing you're such a fast learner. Dean's starting to get suspicious. I always spend time online doing research, but lately my log time's been unusually high, even for me. I couldn't expect him not to notice forever.]
[I remember how much you loved to go thru Uncle Bobby's books.]
[Still do. Nothing like a good old book. We've really gotta get together like that again, sometime soon. Translated, don't screw this up and get yourself killed. Your buddy's counting on you.]
[You don't have to remind me.] I'd told Sam about the dreams, and he agreed there might be truth in them, a visual manifestation of a mental reality.
[So, you know what to do] Sam finished. [Go do it, and let me know when it's over. Lure that demon in, Claire, and then kick it in the ass.]
+++
I gathered my gear in a green cloth grocery bag and set it by my bedroom door. Then every hour or two for the rest of the night I sat down in the floor, dumped it all out and went through it and repacked it. By this time tomorrow, my double life would be over, one way or another.
On Friday I worked through lunch so I could leave early. I did make time to eat though, one thing Sam had insisted on; no getting light-headed at an inopportune moment. I also texted Nick, and Billy. [It's on. As soon as I know something I'll let you know.]
Then I took a deep breath, and dialed Zak's cell number. "Zak Bagans here."
Bullshit, I snarled mentally. "Hi, it's Claire."
"Claire!" The demon sounded thoroughly delighted. "I was starting to think you'd left town."
Damn, is it reading my mind now? "Oh, please. You mean too much to me for me to do that." True enough, if not in the way my foe would probably take it. "I'm so sorry for the way I acted the other night."
"No need to apologize, dear. The fault's as much mine. Just because I have a, well, irrational dislike of all that supernatural nonsense, gave me no right to blow up at you."
"It's okay, I understand. I miss you so much! Let's get together tonight. Are you free? We'll see how much trouble we can get into."
"Now, Claire," the demon scolded, "you know going out isn't my thing."
"Who said anything about going out? We can stir up all manner of trouble and never leave your apartment." I closed my eyes for an instant and sent up a quick prayer. "In fact, how about this—tonight, I'm yours. I want to make up to you for being such a bitch. Anything you want to do tonight is fair game."
That got its attention, as I'd hoped. "Anything?"
"Within reason."
"Define 'within reason'."
"Um, anything that doesn't endanger life, limb, property or sanity?"
"Mmm. So what if, for example, I wanted to tie you to my bed and torment you for a while?"
Somehow, I turned a nauseated choke into a semblance of a flirtatious giggle of mock outrage. "Why, Mr. Button-down, I had no idea you had a pervy side. Good thing it's Friday night; we have the whole weekend ahead of us."
"Yes, yes, we do," it said in a tone that left no doubt in my mind what it wanted to do with me tied to a bed for a weekend.
Okay, the hook was in. Time now to start reeling the fish in. "In fact, I still have my key…what if I slip out of work a bit early and go on to your place? I can arrange some things, and wait for you--appropriately dressed."
"Or not dressed at all," it growled.
Oh hell no, I was not performing an exorcism buck naked. "No way! You keep the air conditioner too cold. You mean a lot to me, but not enough for me to catch pneumonia. Besides, wouldn't unwrapping the package be more fun?"
It hesitated, and I hoped I hadn't come on too strong. "Good point. You know the rules, though. No meddling in my things."
"I never meddle in your things!" I protested. "See you later, then. I can't wait for tonight." I hung up. Well, that was unexpected…No, it wasn't. I knew it reveled in power and control, and I had just managed to push all its buttons. The demon would hit that door this evening ready to play, and hopefully never even dream it was walking into my trap.
The afternoon flew by, and before I knew it I was on the way back to the complex. I parked in front of the stairs to Zak's apartment and got out, looking across the lot at my own windows. For a moment I was seized with a desire to run, to go and hole up there and throw this bag I carried in the dumpster. What did I think I was doing, taking on a demon? Assuming it really was a demon, and not just a deeply disturbed man. I stood still, breathed and closed my eyes fighting for calm. Unbidden, Zak's face rose before me as I had seen it in my dream, bruised and battered but undefeated. My gut and my heart said this was true. I would not run.
I ran upstairs and slipped into the apartment. First I checked the whole place—no unexpected lurkers. Then I set up the bedroom. I pulled the covers down off the end of the bed, tossed the pillows in the corner, and dragged the bedside table to the far wall. Sam's instructions had been clear: get anything that could be used as a weapon out of arm's reach. Not just to protect yourself, but to protect your Zak too. We've had demons mortally wound their meatsuits in order to keep us from exorcising them. Of course, we had to do it anyway, but then we were left with a dying human to try and save.
From my bag I took several sheets of paper. Each bore a drawing of a circle inscribed with glyphs and runes. They were called devil's traps, and Sam said they would both provide final confirmation of the demon's presence in Zak's body, and immobilize it while I performed the ritual of exorcism. I put one under the bed, a second between the mattress and springs, and slid a third under the fitted sheet. Sam hadn't said multiples had a cumulative effect, but you couldn't be too careful.
On the bureau against the far wall, I set the little video camera, and checked to be sure it could see both the bed and the spot near the window where I intended to stand. Documentary evidence would be good to have…although if things didn't go well, nobody would ever see it. I refused to think about that. Show no fear.
I went into the bathroom. The mirror had been replaced, but when I took off my shoes I stepped on a tiny sliver of glass stuck in a crease in the tile floor. I wondered as I changed how it had been broken. Quickly, I slid out of my work clothes and into a pair of pink silk shortie pajamas, sexy enough to keep my prey's attention, comfortable enough to move swiftly in. Around my neck, I hung a clay pendant on a thong. I'd made it from a pattern Sam had sent, and it was meant to protect me from any attempt by the demon to attack or possess me once it was expelled from its current squat. It was really rather striking in design, a pentacle set inside a sunburst, and I admired it for a moment before tucking it between my breasts.
A second identical necklace was nestled in my bag, for Zak to wear once he was free. I stopped and smiled briefly to myself in the mirror at that thought. What was it going to be like, getting to know someone I had thought I knew, but didn't; but kind of did, through video, and the words of his friends, and who I thought I might be halfway in love with, even though we'd never actually met except in a dream…Oh stop, you'll give yourself a headache. He may not even know who you are! Cross that bridge when you get there. Focus on the damn demon.
Back in the bedroom, I checked my bag one last time. The printout of the exorcism ritual lay on top—no trying to wing it by memory—along with an old Windex bottle scrubbed clean and filled with holy water, homemade from Sam's recipe. I set it beside the window and went out to the living room. I'd done all I could do; nothing left now but to wait.
The waiting part didn't last long, as it turned out. Only a few minutes after I perched on the couch arm facing the door, it burst open. The demon stalked in, ripping off its tie as if ready to bind me with it right there. Its eyes glittered, with the coldness of a snake's regard. I came to my feet.
Time to kick it in the ass.
Okay, notes. Here's a devil's trap: http://files.myopera.com/MohammadH1373/albums/5993562/Devil's_Trap.jpg
Here's the anti-possession symbol Sam gave Claire to wear: http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/images/4/45/Protectiontattoo.jpg
Sorry for the ugly. I fail at html.
Claire's holy water in the Windex bottle--believe it or not, that came from Zak himself a couple of days ago! :-D He tweeted he was doing 'routine demonic maintenance' at his house, cleansing and such, and mentioned getting out the 'holy water windex'. Since I was writing this scene I had to steal it from him. hehe
And Sam's last line to Claire, which is also the last line of the chapter, has a special meaning to Supernatural fans. A couple of years ago Kim Manners, a director much beloved by the cast and fandom, died. One of his signatures, said often to actors just before shooting a particularly intense scene, was 'kick it in the ass'. After his death the line turned up in at least 2 episodes as a little tribute to him, and it fit perfectly here.
So stay tuned to see if Claire kicks it in the ass, and what happens to Zak!
Again, as ever, my thanks and props to the wonderful xXTailo-Lives-OnXx for permission to play with the situation originated in the fic The Other Side. <3
Rated R--Language, and some more whumpage, ahead. And notes at the end you may find interesting. :-)
5 Sam asked for the video from the Kansas lockdown, so I texted Billy. [Hey—I talked to my experts & they need 2 see the lockdown footage b4 deciding how to proceed. Could u send it 2 me, or better yet upload it & send me a link? They say it is def a demon, it's prob still in Zak, and it has Zak in there w/it. Will let u know when I know more. Thx.]
I sent the same information to Nick, and then went about my Sunday feeling both grave and hopeful. If there was a way to break those walls and bring Zak out of that prison, I was damn well going to find it. I got online and started researching, and didn't come up for air till my phone beeped again. I grabbed it, hoping it was Sam.
It wasn't. It was Zak. Or, rather, it was a text sent from Zak's phone, by the thing that had stolen his body and his life. [Claire—I've been trying to reach you for over a week now. I miss you terribly, but there are many more fish in the sea. If you aren't interested in continuing our relationship, let me know. Don't leave me in limbo.]
Limbo, ha, I thought. Don't worry. The only place I want to see you in is Hell, you piece of shit. From what I'd learned about Zak, if he had sent a text in a similar situation, it probably would have gone more like [Claire—WTF? Call me!] Or maybe [Claire—WTF? Ok, I'm sorry. Call me!]
A week ago, I would have deleted the text without a thought. I had in fact deleted every other message he—it—had sent. An hour ago, despondent, I might have replied [I know what u r] and let the chips fall where they might. But now…it was important to keep a safe distance, true, but equally important to keep an open connection, so as not to arouse its suspicions when I was ready to go after it. So I replied [I don't mean 2 do that. I still care about u. just give me a lil time 2 get myself 2gether, plz?]
[I will] came the swift response, [but don't expect me to wait forever.]
[I won't. I promise. Thanx.] I hit Send with satisfaction. The fish was on the hook; now to keep it there while I learned how to land it.
Thus began my double life. By day I filed and sorted and helped with lab tests and occasionally got pulled into the CSI office to add some extra brain cells to a thorny case. By night, I learned to cast out demons. Sam was a thorough, patient teacher, who explained not only what to do but why. He emailed me the complete ritual of exorcism, recipes for holy water, and drawings he swore would snare the demon and its 'meatsuit' or possessed body like flypaper. Every couple of days I sent a text to Zak's phone, something in the 'thanks for your patience, I'm working through my issues' vein, just enough to keep myself a viable option in the demon's eyes.
I rehearsed every gesture, and practiced the Latin words till they rolled off my tongue as the few my uncle had taught me long ago once had. Sam insisted the pronunciation had to be note-perfect, so I borrowed the battered little camera from the GAC's last lockdown and filmed myself, then sent the video to Sam for his review. I told Nick my 'experts' wanted to use it for evidence gathering during the exorcism. I did not, however, tell him I intended to do the exorcising; he struck me as the kind of guy who would be no happier than my uncle at that prospect.
Weirdly, the longer I studied, and the deeper I delved into the realm of demonology, the more, and more vividly, I dreamt of the grey prison. They were always lucid, and they became so clear that I started to wonder if they were mere dreams at all. Nick had said once that Zak, despite his protests to the contrary, was exceptionally sensitive to spiritual energies. If my studies had opened me up to those energies as well, could I be touching Zak's awareness, seeing his world as he saw it? That thought left me torn: I desperately wanted to make contact, to let Zak know help was on the way, but that might alert his captor too. I couldn't risk it knowing I was on to its sick game. So, I stayed in the shadows…until one terrifying and glorious night when all that changed….
::I hide outside the cell, chilled by the demon's guttural chuckles, and bite back screams of grief and fury at every low cry of pain that I hear. Zak is still resisting, with everything in him, but he's weakening, I can tell. How much longer can he hold on, before he breaks and loses himself? Fear takes hold of me and moves me up to the cell's barred door. The demon admires its handiwork, licking blood off the blade. Zak's motionless except for an occasional twitch; the shackles binding his wrists to the wall are all that's holding him upright. The wounds left by the demon's knife are already fading; I know it does that, so it can have a fresh canvas on which to paint new pain. There's a chain wrapped tightly around his neck, reminding me of nothing so much as a dog's choke collar. His head hangs low, his dark hair matted with sweat and blood. Look up, I think. See me. If you think you're hallucinating, if IT thinks you are, that's okay. Maybe even a hallucination could give you enough hope to hang on.
As if he hears me, his head rises, so painfully slowly. His eyes are unfocused and dazed, but when they meet mine there's still a spark of life there, and they sharpen. I put a finger to my lips; his gaze flicks away, then up toward the ceiling, as if in appeal or thanks to the heavens. The demon starts to say something taunting, but Zak cuts him short with a hoarse but fervent 'Fuck you'.::
I woke with tears in my eyes, as I always did from those dreams, but this time the anguish was tempered by a hint of hope, a spark like the spark in Zak's eyes. And pride too, as silly as that may sound. Damn, he's strong! And smart. He understood immediately that he had to hide my presence. Hold on, baby, hold on, just a little longer…
That was Thursday morning, and that night, Sam declared I was ready. [Your Latin sounds almost as good as Bobby's, and your delivery's strong, nothing timid about it. That's vital: show no fear when you're facing a demon, ever. I think I told you that already, didn't I?]
[Yes, several times, along with pages of other useful tidbits] I typed back. We met in a private chat room, using it as our personal classroom and workshop.
[:-p] Sam replied. [Good thing you're such a fast learner. Dean's starting to get suspicious. I always spend time online doing research, but lately my log time's been unusually high, even for me. I couldn't expect him not to notice forever.]
[I remember how much you loved to go thru Uncle Bobby's books.]
[Still do. Nothing like a good old book. We've really gotta get together like that again, sometime soon. Translated, don't screw this up and get yourself killed. Your buddy's counting on you.]
[You don't have to remind me.] I'd told Sam about the dreams, and he agreed there might be truth in them, a visual manifestation of a mental reality.
[So, you know what to do] Sam finished. [Go do it, and let me know when it's over. Lure that demon in, Claire, and then kick it in the ass.]
+++
I gathered my gear in a green cloth grocery bag and set it by my bedroom door. Then every hour or two for the rest of the night I sat down in the floor, dumped it all out and went through it and repacked it. By this time tomorrow, my double life would be over, one way or another.
On Friday I worked through lunch so I could leave early. I did make time to eat though, one thing Sam had insisted on; no getting light-headed at an inopportune moment. I also texted Nick, and Billy. [It's on. As soon as I know something I'll let you know.]
Then I took a deep breath, and dialed Zak's cell number. "Zak Bagans here."
Bullshit, I snarled mentally. "Hi, it's Claire."
"Claire!" The demon sounded thoroughly delighted. "I was starting to think you'd left town."
Damn, is it reading my mind now? "Oh, please. You mean too much to me for me to do that." True enough, if not in the way my foe would probably take it. "I'm so sorry for the way I acted the other night."
"No need to apologize, dear. The fault's as much mine. Just because I have a, well, irrational dislike of all that supernatural nonsense, gave me no right to blow up at you."
"It's okay, I understand. I miss you so much! Let's get together tonight. Are you free? We'll see how much trouble we can get into."
"Now, Claire," the demon scolded, "you know going out isn't my thing."
"Who said anything about going out? We can stir up all manner of trouble and never leave your apartment." I closed my eyes for an instant and sent up a quick prayer. "In fact, how about this—tonight, I'm yours. I want to make up to you for being such a bitch. Anything you want to do tonight is fair game."
That got its attention, as I'd hoped. "Anything?"
"Within reason."
"Define 'within reason'."
"Um, anything that doesn't endanger life, limb, property or sanity?"
"Mmm. So what if, for example, I wanted to tie you to my bed and torment you for a while?"
Somehow, I turned a nauseated choke into a semblance of a flirtatious giggle of mock outrage. "Why, Mr. Button-down, I had no idea you had a pervy side. Good thing it's Friday night; we have the whole weekend ahead of us."
"Yes, yes, we do," it said in a tone that left no doubt in my mind what it wanted to do with me tied to a bed for a weekend.
Okay, the hook was in. Time now to start reeling the fish in. "In fact, I still have my key…what if I slip out of work a bit early and go on to your place? I can arrange some things, and wait for you--appropriately dressed."
"Or not dressed at all," it growled.
Oh hell no, I was not performing an exorcism buck naked. "No way! You keep the air conditioner too cold. You mean a lot to me, but not enough for me to catch pneumonia. Besides, wouldn't unwrapping the package be more fun?"
It hesitated, and I hoped I hadn't come on too strong. "Good point. You know the rules, though. No meddling in my things."
"I never meddle in your things!" I protested. "See you later, then. I can't wait for tonight." I hung up. Well, that was unexpected…No, it wasn't. I knew it reveled in power and control, and I had just managed to push all its buttons. The demon would hit that door this evening ready to play, and hopefully never even dream it was walking into my trap.
The afternoon flew by, and before I knew it I was on the way back to the complex. I parked in front of the stairs to Zak's apartment and got out, looking across the lot at my own windows. For a moment I was seized with a desire to run, to go and hole up there and throw this bag I carried in the dumpster. What did I think I was doing, taking on a demon? Assuming it really was a demon, and not just a deeply disturbed man. I stood still, breathed and closed my eyes fighting for calm. Unbidden, Zak's face rose before me as I had seen it in my dream, bruised and battered but undefeated. My gut and my heart said this was true. I would not run.
I ran upstairs and slipped into the apartment. First I checked the whole place—no unexpected lurkers. Then I set up the bedroom. I pulled the covers down off the end of the bed, tossed the pillows in the corner, and dragged the bedside table to the far wall. Sam's instructions had been clear: get anything that could be used as a weapon out of arm's reach. Not just to protect yourself, but to protect your Zak too. We've had demons mortally wound their meatsuits in order to keep us from exorcising them. Of course, we had to do it anyway, but then we were left with a dying human to try and save.
From my bag I took several sheets of paper. Each bore a drawing of a circle inscribed with glyphs and runes. They were called devil's traps, and Sam said they would both provide final confirmation of the demon's presence in Zak's body, and immobilize it while I performed the ritual of exorcism. I put one under the bed, a second between the mattress and springs, and slid a third under the fitted sheet. Sam hadn't said multiples had a cumulative effect, but you couldn't be too careful.
On the bureau against the far wall, I set the little video camera, and checked to be sure it could see both the bed and the spot near the window where I intended to stand. Documentary evidence would be good to have…although if things didn't go well, nobody would ever see it. I refused to think about that. Show no fear.
I went into the bathroom. The mirror had been replaced, but when I took off my shoes I stepped on a tiny sliver of glass stuck in a crease in the tile floor. I wondered as I changed how it had been broken. Quickly, I slid out of my work clothes and into a pair of pink silk shortie pajamas, sexy enough to keep my prey's attention, comfortable enough to move swiftly in. Around my neck, I hung a clay pendant on a thong. I'd made it from a pattern Sam had sent, and it was meant to protect me from any attempt by the demon to attack or possess me once it was expelled from its current squat. It was really rather striking in design, a pentacle set inside a sunburst, and I admired it for a moment before tucking it between my breasts.
A second identical necklace was nestled in my bag, for Zak to wear once he was free. I stopped and smiled briefly to myself in the mirror at that thought. What was it going to be like, getting to know someone I had thought I knew, but didn't; but kind of did, through video, and the words of his friends, and who I thought I might be halfway in love with, even though we'd never actually met except in a dream…Oh stop, you'll give yourself a headache. He may not even know who you are! Cross that bridge when you get there. Focus on the damn demon.
Back in the bedroom, I checked my bag one last time. The printout of the exorcism ritual lay on top—no trying to wing it by memory—along with an old Windex bottle scrubbed clean and filled with holy water, homemade from Sam's recipe. I set it beside the window and went out to the living room. I'd done all I could do; nothing left now but to wait.
The waiting part didn't last long, as it turned out. Only a few minutes after I perched on the couch arm facing the door, it burst open. The demon stalked in, ripping off its tie as if ready to bind me with it right there. Its eyes glittered, with the coldness of a snake's regard. I came to my feet.
Time to kick it in the ass.
Okay, notes. Here's a devil's trap: http://files.myopera.com/MohammadH1373/albums/5993562/Devil's_Trap.jpg
Here's the anti-possession symbol Sam gave Claire to wear: http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/images/4/45/Protectiontattoo.jpg
Sorry for the ugly. I fail at html.
Claire's holy water in the Windex bottle--believe it or not, that came from Zak himself a couple of days ago! :-D He tweeted he was doing 'routine demonic maintenance' at his house, cleansing and such, and mentioned getting out the 'holy water windex'. Since I was writing this scene I had to steal it from him. hehe
And Sam's last line to Claire, which is also the last line of the chapter, has a special meaning to Supernatural fans. A couple of years ago Kim Manners, a director much beloved by the cast and fandom, died. One of his signatures, said often to actors just before shooting a particularly intense scene, was 'kick it in the ass'. After his death the line turned up in at least 2 episodes as a little tribute to him, and it fit perfectly here.
So stay tuned to see if Claire kicks it in the ass, and what happens to Zak!
