Saints or Sinners | {BOOK 3}

58| How to Close the Gates of Hell

I had completely rearranged the furniture in Dean and my room, put it all back in its original format so that he wouldn't freak out about it when he and Sam got back, finished reading the book on angels twice, and had made myself lunch. I was totally bored at that point. I would have explored the Bunker some more, but I was scared to do that without Dean around to anchor me. Yes, I had promised him that I wouldn't do anything stupid while he was gone, but part of me was really tempted to see if I could figure out a way to break into Heaven, get Maddie and Zep back, and escape back before he and Sam returned.

Yeah, that was definitely a stupid idea. Dean would definitely not approve. Sighing to myself, I made my way into our room and laid down on the memory foam mattress. Dean had been as giddy as a child when he discovered said memory foam. It was bittersweet seeing him so excited, considering the reasoning behind it. He'd never exactly had his own room growing up, his own space. And while he was technically sharing with me, he was taking full advantage of the opportunity now.

"I hope you're at least together," I whispered, rolling over on my back to stare at the ceiling. "I hope they didn't try and separate you two. Zep needs at least his sister around, so he recognizes one family member, even if he doesn't remember his mama and daddy. You could never forget us though, could you, darling? You're getting old enough, you didn't forget about us this past year, did you?"

Tears rolled back down the sides of my face into my ears and hair, but I couldn't find it in myself to care. No response came in answer to my ramblings, and after several long minutes of crying, exhaustion overcame me, and I succumbed to sleep.

⁘

Apparently, the Judah Initiative had been reduced to one guy named Aaron who Sam and Dean encountered while they were on the case. They'd also come across the Thule, a society of Nazi necromancers who fought with Hitler during World War II. Sam had resumed his mission of reading everything in the Bunker while Dean fixed us some dinner. He came into the library a while later balancing three plates of burgers. I grabbed one of the plates from him and settled in to eat while he set one the two remaining plates next to Sam.

"You made these?" Sam questioned, picking off the top bun to inspect his burger.

"We have a real kitchen now," Dean replied.

"I know. I-I just didn't think you knew what a kitchen was."

I snorted around a mouthful of my own burger. It was heavenly, just the right blend of grease and seasoning.

"I'm nesting, okay?" Dean defended himself. "Eat. Ellie likes it."

Sam replaced the bun on his burger, taking a big bite while Dean watched him with a smile on his face.

"Huh? Yeah."

"Wow," Sam said around his mouthful of food.

"You're welcome," Dean smirked, taking a seat next to me at the table to eat his own burger.

However, before he could even take a bite, his phone started ringing. Sighing, he pulled it out and answered it.

"Yo. What? Kevin? Kevin?!"

He hung up looking over at us.

"Something wrong?" I asked.

"Guess."

Dean and I stood in unison, both taking our plates with us. After a moment, Sam followed with his food as well.

⁘

We entered the houseboat with our guns drawn, ready for whatever Kevin had called about.

"Kevin? It's us," Sam called out.

There was no response, the main compartment empty of all signs of the Prophet besides the notes covering every inch of the walls. Dean moved toward a door and opened it gingerly and then made a face.

"Found him," he called over to Sam and I.

We moved over to look and found Kevin throwing up. When he finally finished, he moved out to sit at the table, using a tissue to wipe at a bloody nose.

"Wow. You look like hammered crap," Dean told him.

I would have normally smacked Dean for being insensitive, but he wasn't wrong. It looked like Kevin hadn't showered in several days, possibly weeks, and his eyes were raw and rimmed in red. I felt my mom instincts start to take over.

"Are you sleeping?" I questioned him.

"Not really," came the reply.

"Are you eating?"

"Hot dogs, mostly."

"Sure, yeah- breakfast of champions," Dean scoffed, cutting in. "Look, I'm going to feel dirty saying this, but you might want a salad... and a shower."

"I know," Kevin nodded, "and I've been getting bad headaches and nosebleeds, and I think maybe I had a small stroke. But it was worth it."

"What was worth it?" I demanded, not liking anything I was hearing.

"I figured out how to close the Gates of Hell."

"You..." Dean trailed off.

Kevin and Sam chuckled while I gaped at the young boy and Dean broke into a smile.

"Come here, you smelly son of a bitch," Dean grabbed Kevin in a hug, lifting him off the ground.

"Okay, okay," Sam clapped his hands. "So, what does this mean? What are we looking at?"

"It's a spell," Kevin said once Dean released him.

"And?" I prompted him to continue.

"And it's just a few words of Enochian, but..." he held a piece of paper out to Dean.

"Oh, here we go," Dean scanned the paper.

"...the spell has to be spoken after you finish each of the three trials."

"T-trials like, uh, like 'Law & Order'?" I asked as Sam took the paper from Dean to look at as well.

"More like Hercules," Kevin corrected. "The tablet says, 'Whosoever chooses to undertake these tasks should fear not danger, nor death, nor...' a word I think means getting your spine ripped out through your mouth for all eternity."

"Good times," Dean grimaced, glancing at me as I took a turn with the paper.

"Basically, God built a series of tests, and when you've done all three, you can slam the gates."

"So, what- God wants us to take the SATs?" Sam asked.

"I-I guess. Uh, He works in mysterious ways."

"Yeah, mysterious, douche-y ways," Dean rolled his eyes. "Alright. Where do we start?"

"I've only been able to crack one of the tests so far, and it's gross. You've got to kill a hound of Hell and bathe in its blood."

"Awesome."

"Awesome?" I repeated, looking at Dean incredulously.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Hey, if it means icing all demons, I got no problem gutting some devil dog and letting Calgon take me away."

"Where are you gonna find one?" Kevin queried.

"Well, hellhounds like to collect on crossroads deals. So all we got to do is track down some loser who signed over his special sauce 10 years ago, get between him and Clifford the big dead dog- easy."

"Doesn't sound easy."

"It's not," Sam cut in.

"Look, you get on the net- see what you can dig up," Dean told his brother. "I'm gonna go for a supply run because we need goofer dust, and the kid needs to eat something that's not ground-up hooves and pigs' anuses – not that there's anything wrong with that."