Categories > TV > Supernatural > Comes Knocking
Pizza forgotten, both brothers watched as a panicked herd of people stampeded down the street, completely disregarding traffic while weaving in between honking cars. The wave of people was too thick for drivers to open their car doors; instead opting to escape via sunroofs and abandoning their cars to the pandemonium.
“What the hell?” Dean watched as a guy attempted to climb over a car only to slip and fall off onto a man whose wife, in retaliation for squashing her husband, punched him in the face. “Jesus.”
“Terrorists?” Sam asked, amazed at the chaos that was a complete contrast to the relative peace of 2 minutes ago.
“No explosions or gunfire.” Dean observed. “Let’s get Baby and get out of dodge before we’re stuck in whatever this is.”
“Dean! We can’t just leave in the middle of a crisis! We could help! They may need us!” Sam was aghast at Dean’s apparent apathy in the face of possibly injured or dying people.
Dean wasn’t heartless. Abandoning probable people in need would weigh on him for a long while, he knew, but he couldn’t risk getting Sam involved when there would be police and suits all over the place.
“Sam, this isn’t our gig. We’d just be getting in the way. If it is terrorists, we don’t know the first thing about navigating that sort of shit storm. Let the professionals handle it.” Dean could see Sam was gearing up to interrupt and hurried on, “Professionals who, by the way, were looking for our mugs for years. It only takes one agent or officer to recognize us.”
“That was years ago. They all think we’re dead. They’d never remember us now, let alone connect us in this confusion.” Sam argued.
“Sorry to say, but my Blue Steel was an unforgettable masterpiece. I’d be recognized in a heartbeat.” Dean played out the worst case scenario, “Say we do get caught, Sam. You think they’re just gonna chalk up our presence as a coincidence? Hell no. We’d become ‘Official Suspects 1 and 2’ in as many seconds.”
“Shit.” Sam realized Dean was right. On the off chance they were recognized, they’d be apprehended and blamed immediately. Sam looked around again at the mess of screaming and crying people and conceded, “You’re right. We need to leave. Now.”
Grabbing Sam’s pizza, which Dean could not in good conscience leave behind (not when he was already leaving people behind!), Dean led the way down a side street which would take them away from the mob and towards Baby. They were able to cover several blocks before the side street ended and they were swept up by the hysterical sea of people. The push and pull of pressure from all sides was immense and unlike anything the brothers had ever experienced. Without any hopes of breaking free, Sam and Dean had no choice but to allow the current to take them along and hope that they ended up somewhat close to the car.
Fortunately, the further away from ground zero, the calmer people became and instead of screaming at each other, they started talking to one another. Sam and Dean eavesdropped on a conversation bickered between a couple in front of them:
“What the hell was that thing?”
“Some yahoo hopped up on paint fumes or bath salts; whatever the junkies are into these days. All I know is that Brian had better not be doing any of that crap. Going to ‘band practice’, my ass!”
“You think this was drugs?! Did you see it’s eyes - completely black!”
“...Maybe it was contacts?”
“Contacts! Barry, are you stupid? It’s eyes were perfectly normal one second (a little crazy, sure) and then complete blackness the next. How in God’s name would he have been able to put in contacts in less than a second, Barry?!”
Barry, not to be cowed, bit back, “Well, it obviously has to be some newfangled technology the kids have these days. Or maybe huffing salts and paint makes your pupils dilate. I’m no doctor.”
Ignoring Ruth’s muttered, “No. Really?”, Barry continued, “And don’t bother saying it - I already know what you’re thinking and it’s completely ridiculous.”
“Well, then how do you explain the head spinning, huh? Humans don’t exactly spin their heads clean ‘round, Barry. It’s the supernatural breaking through.”
Barry, knowing he wasn’t going to win and just too beleaguered to bring up his robot theory, let out a defeated, “Okay, dear.” and mindlessly let the flow of people guide him as he tuned out his wife’s impassioned ranting about satan and exorcisms.
Sam and Dean stopped dead in their tracks in shock.
“Move it, assholes!”
“Get out of the way!”
“Watch it!”
Jarred into motion, Sam apologized as he and Dean used their combined strength to muscle their way out of the road and into an alley. “Excuse us! So sorry!”
“We have to go back now.” Sam stated the obvious.
“Demons? Really?” Dean all but whined. “We have got to get around to killing Crowley soon. Maybe make a day of it. Get pizza afterwards.”
Ignoring Dean, Sam took inventory of their weapons, “I’ve only got the sawed-off with 2 salt rounds in the barrels and 1 in my pocket. You’ve got the knife, right?”
Dean pulled up his right pant leg showing the knife in his calf holster and took out his handgun, “Yup and I’ve got a clip full of salt rounds.”
“Still not enough if there’s more than one demon. “ Sam worried. “What the hell are they even doing here drawing so much attention?”
“We’ll worry about all that when we get there.” Dean advised. Looking around he took stock of their available exit routes, “There’s no way we can push through that crowd. We’re gonna have to go up.”
Sam watched as Dean pulled down the stairs of the fire escape at the end of the alley and followed him as he began climbing up towards the rooftops.
They were about two rooftops away from their destination when they saw something that made both of them stop in awe.
“Oh my god. Is that -” Sam started.
“Ironman.” Dean finished in a hushed tone of reverence usually reserved for Dr. Sexy.
They could only gape as Ironman reappeared in the air shooting rockets at something down on the ground.
“Screw angels, demons, and Chuck - it’s freakin’ Ironman!”
Sam also couldn’t contain his excitement, forgetting for the moment that they were here for a terrible reason, “If he’s here, then the rest of the Avengers are probably around here too!”
Making it to the edge of the last rooftop before the scene, they looked down and almost fell off as they saw the Avengers on the street below fighting. They could do nothing except watch in astonishment at the synchronized sight the Avengers made before them: Ironman flying above launching rockets, Black Widow shooting widow bites, the Winter Soldier firing with cold precision, and Hawkeye releasing arrow after arrow, all exploding bullseyes. They were willing to bet Bruce Banner was around here somewhere waiting to Hulk out if needed. It wasn’t until they noticed a downed Captain America that they stopped gaping and went into professional hunter mode.
“Shit. Cap’s down.” Dean actually took in the scene and realized the target was a single guy who was swatting off their attacks like mosquito bites. Knowing immediately what they were dealing with when he saw the eyes (‘Fucking demons’) he double-checked his clip and flicked off his gun’s safety. Following suit, Sam took out the sawed-off he had stored under the back of his shirt.
“Let’s come up from the right. We’ll have a clear shot, but enough cover from the cabs that Tracksuit will never see us coming.”
“Got it.” Sam agreed.
By the time they made it to their cover, they could clearly see the Avengers were running out of energy, ammo, and ideas. It was a ludicrous scene: a single jogger beating 5 Avengers without breaking a sweat.
“Alright Sammy, I’m guessing the meatsuit has been dead for a while now, given how many times it’s been shot, so shoot for the head and I’ll aim for the heart.”
The brothers simultaneously took a deep breath, aimed, and fired.
The shots silenced all noise within the vicinity except for the howling of the demon laid out on the ground. It went against every fiber of Sam and Dean’s m.o., but they had no choice but to abandon their cover and make their way towards the demon in front of the hundreds of people watching from store fronts and office buildings.
As soon as the demon saw Sam and Dean Winchester approaching, it’s eyes went wide in panic and it started struggling to get up. “Fucking Winchesters?! What the hell are you doing here? I didn’t think you knew how to leave the backwoods of middle America!”
“Heya!” Dean greeted, “Oh no, don’t get up on our account.” He raised his gun and shot out both it’s knees completely. The demon fell back down onto the pavement with an agonized yell.
Sam stepped up, “What the hell is Crowley doing having you up here so publicly? I thought he preferred subtlety when interacting topside.”
Looking around at the their audience, Dean added, “Subtle, you ain’t. I know Crowley, unfortunately, and this isn’t like him at all.”
The demon, unable to keep from bragging, divulged, “That’s because Crowley isn’t in charge here. That pissant wannabe-King has nothing on who’s really in charge and what’s actually going on. He’s ruined Hell and is going to pay in blood.”
Sam and Dean watched as the black flicked away, revealing manic eyes, “I can’t wait to flay his skin from his face and feed it to that hellhound bitch he loves so much. I was a General before Crowley took over. A goddamn General! Powerful, feared, and respected. Now I’m a nothing but a laughingstock. All because of that midget salesman. I should’ve -”
“That’s tragic, really” Dean interrupted, “but if Crowley isn’t in charge, then who is? What are you doing here?”
The demon looked at them and let out a gargled laugh as blood began to bubble up out of it’s mouth, “What, you think because you ask nicely I’m going to spill state secrets? Get bent.”
Sam took the knife from Dean’s hand and crouched down until his face was mere inches from the demon’s, “Then we won’t ask nicely.”
Finally realizing the danger it was in, the demon opened it’s mouth to smoke out, but Sam brought his hand up to block it’s exit and stabbed the knife into it’s heart before it had a chance. They watched the last flickering moments of the demon’s existence before pulling the knife out and standing up.
********************************
“Uh...what?” Bucky ineloquently questioned as they all watched two lumberjack-looking dudes take out the seemingly indestructible tracksuit in under 5 minutes. Not only that, but -
“Did it look like he was afraid of them?” Bruce voiced exactly what Bucky had been thinking.
“Completely.” Natasha nodded. “It was like he knew them.”
The three individuals had been far enough away that nobody could hear what was said during the brief interaction.
“He did know them.” They all looked at Clint, who tapped his hearing aid, reminding them all he could read lips. “I couldn’t get anything the two flannels were saying with their backs to us, but he called them the Winchesters. I’m sure he said something about Hell and a Crowley, but the blood made his lips hard to read and they covered his mouth before stabbing him.”
“Looked like they electrocuted him.” Bucky stated, wondering about the type of weapons they were carrying.
“Today is a weird day.” Clint complained. “Can it be over now and we try again tomorrow?”
The team tensed when the two guys began making their way over; however, they were all distracted by Steve’s groaned return to consciousness behind them. He had been passed out for the entirety of the fight. Feeling like a semi-truck had run directly over his head, Steve very slowly sat up.
“What happened?”
Bucky was the first one at his side helping him. “Easy, Stevie. Easy. You were slugged pretty good by Black-eyes.”
“Demon.” They all tensed and turned towards the newcomers, who had stopped a few feet away.
“Wanna say that again?” Tony planted himself in between the two strangers and his teammates.
“That was a demon.” The shorter one supplied. “You know, Hell, fire, brimstone?”
“What kind of crazy are you?“ Tony asked incredulously, while Clint piped up from behind,
“Like Dan Brown ‘Angels and Demons’? Like an actual demon demon?”
The shorter one looked up at the taller one with a “wtf?” look on his face and looked back at Tony and Clint, “I dunno any Dan’s, but yeah, demon demon.”
“Drink. I need a goddamn drink.” Tony, completely done, put his faceplate back down and walked away as Natasha stepped up and Clint began circling the two, looking for additional weaponry.
“Who are you and what do you want?” Natasha leveled them with a stare that, if they hadn’t been seasoned hunters, would’ve made them hunch over in submission. As it was Sam couldn’t help fidgeting as he responded.
“Uh...nobody and nothing? We were just eating pizza when we -”
“Shit! My pizza!” Dean realized he had dropped his pizza on a rooftop when he spotted Ironman.
“- heard screaming.” Sam completely ignored Dean’s idiotic priorities and continued. “When we found out what was happening, we knew we had to come help.”
“And what exactly was happening, again?” Bruce questioned a few feet away where he was looking Steve over. “You honestly think we’re going to accept demons from Hell?”
As the group seemingly raised a collective skeptical eyebrow, Sam reasoned, “You all interact with the magical and multidimensional on a weekly basis and you can’t spare some belief for the supernatural? Heaven and Hell are both very real and very active. What you just fought against was a man being possessed by a demon.”
They disregarded Tony's voice faintly coming through his closed faceplate, “Straight. No ice. Two - no five, six? fingers.”
Bruce, after verifying that Steve was finally able to maintain a vertical position, approached, “You understand this is difficult to believe as what you’re saying implies the presence of an afterlife and, more notably, a God.”
“Uh, yeah,” Dean confirmed, “but don’t get too excited. He’s a bit of a bum.” Sam elbowed Dean for his disrespect towards Chuck. “Also, he’s kinda hashing crap out with his sister at the moment and is M.I.A.”
“Who says you can’t add an umbrella to a $2000 diamond cut scotch glass? I’ve earned it, damnit.” Clint, having performed an ocular pat down and ascertained the two men carried no other weapons, went over to Tony and patted a metallic shoulder in comfort.
“What the hell?” Dean watched as a guy attempted to climb over a car only to slip and fall off onto a man whose wife, in retaliation for squashing her husband, punched him in the face. “Jesus.”
“Terrorists?” Sam asked, amazed at the chaos that was a complete contrast to the relative peace of 2 minutes ago.
“No explosions or gunfire.” Dean observed. “Let’s get Baby and get out of dodge before we’re stuck in whatever this is.”
“Dean! We can’t just leave in the middle of a crisis! We could help! They may need us!” Sam was aghast at Dean’s apparent apathy in the face of possibly injured or dying people.
Dean wasn’t heartless. Abandoning probable people in need would weigh on him for a long while, he knew, but he couldn’t risk getting Sam involved when there would be police and suits all over the place.
“Sam, this isn’t our gig. We’d just be getting in the way. If it is terrorists, we don’t know the first thing about navigating that sort of shit storm. Let the professionals handle it.” Dean could see Sam was gearing up to interrupt and hurried on, “Professionals who, by the way, were looking for our mugs for years. It only takes one agent or officer to recognize us.”
“That was years ago. They all think we’re dead. They’d never remember us now, let alone connect us in this confusion.” Sam argued.
“Sorry to say, but my Blue Steel was an unforgettable masterpiece. I’d be recognized in a heartbeat.” Dean played out the worst case scenario, “Say we do get caught, Sam. You think they’re just gonna chalk up our presence as a coincidence? Hell no. We’d become ‘Official Suspects 1 and 2’ in as many seconds.”
“Shit.” Sam realized Dean was right. On the off chance they were recognized, they’d be apprehended and blamed immediately. Sam looked around again at the mess of screaming and crying people and conceded, “You’re right. We need to leave. Now.”
Grabbing Sam’s pizza, which Dean could not in good conscience leave behind (not when he was already leaving people behind!), Dean led the way down a side street which would take them away from the mob and towards Baby. They were able to cover several blocks before the side street ended and they were swept up by the hysterical sea of people. The push and pull of pressure from all sides was immense and unlike anything the brothers had ever experienced. Without any hopes of breaking free, Sam and Dean had no choice but to allow the current to take them along and hope that they ended up somewhat close to the car.
Fortunately, the further away from ground zero, the calmer people became and instead of screaming at each other, they started talking to one another. Sam and Dean eavesdropped on a conversation bickered between a couple in front of them:
“What the hell was that thing?”
“Some yahoo hopped up on paint fumes or bath salts; whatever the junkies are into these days. All I know is that Brian had better not be doing any of that crap. Going to ‘band practice’, my ass!”
“You think this was drugs?! Did you see it’s eyes - completely black!”
“...Maybe it was contacts?”
“Contacts! Barry, are you stupid? It’s eyes were perfectly normal one second (a little crazy, sure) and then complete blackness the next. How in God’s name would he have been able to put in contacts in less than a second, Barry?!”
Barry, not to be cowed, bit back, “Well, it obviously has to be some newfangled technology the kids have these days. Or maybe huffing salts and paint makes your pupils dilate. I’m no doctor.”
Ignoring Ruth’s muttered, “No. Really?”, Barry continued, “And don’t bother saying it - I already know what you’re thinking and it’s completely ridiculous.”
“Well, then how do you explain the head spinning, huh? Humans don’t exactly spin their heads clean ‘round, Barry. It’s the supernatural breaking through.”
Barry, knowing he wasn’t going to win and just too beleaguered to bring up his robot theory, let out a defeated, “Okay, dear.” and mindlessly let the flow of people guide him as he tuned out his wife’s impassioned ranting about satan and exorcisms.
Sam and Dean stopped dead in their tracks in shock.
“Move it, assholes!”
“Get out of the way!”
“Watch it!”
Jarred into motion, Sam apologized as he and Dean used their combined strength to muscle their way out of the road and into an alley. “Excuse us! So sorry!”
“We have to go back now.” Sam stated the obvious.
“Demons? Really?” Dean all but whined. “We have got to get around to killing Crowley soon. Maybe make a day of it. Get pizza afterwards.”
Ignoring Dean, Sam took inventory of their weapons, “I’ve only got the sawed-off with 2 salt rounds in the barrels and 1 in my pocket. You’ve got the knife, right?”
Dean pulled up his right pant leg showing the knife in his calf holster and took out his handgun, “Yup and I’ve got a clip full of salt rounds.”
“Still not enough if there’s more than one demon. “ Sam worried. “What the hell are they even doing here drawing so much attention?”
“We’ll worry about all that when we get there.” Dean advised. Looking around he took stock of their available exit routes, “There’s no way we can push through that crowd. We’re gonna have to go up.”
Sam watched as Dean pulled down the stairs of the fire escape at the end of the alley and followed him as he began climbing up towards the rooftops.
They were about two rooftops away from their destination when they saw something that made both of them stop in awe.
“Oh my god. Is that -” Sam started.
“Ironman.” Dean finished in a hushed tone of reverence usually reserved for Dr. Sexy.
They could only gape as Ironman reappeared in the air shooting rockets at something down on the ground.
“Screw angels, demons, and Chuck - it’s freakin’ Ironman!”
Sam also couldn’t contain his excitement, forgetting for the moment that they were here for a terrible reason, “If he’s here, then the rest of the Avengers are probably around here too!”
Making it to the edge of the last rooftop before the scene, they looked down and almost fell off as they saw the Avengers on the street below fighting. They could do nothing except watch in astonishment at the synchronized sight the Avengers made before them: Ironman flying above launching rockets, Black Widow shooting widow bites, the Winter Soldier firing with cold precision, and Hawkeye releasing arrow after arrow, all exploding bullseyes. They were willing to bet Bruce Banner was around here somewhere waiting to Hulk out if needed. It wasn’t until they noticed a downed Captain America that they stopped gaping and went into professional hunter mode.
“Shit. Cap’s down.” Dean actually took in the scene and realized the target was a single guy who was swatting off their attacks like mosquito bites. Knowing immediately what they were dealing with when he saw the eyes (‘Fucking demons’) he double-checked his clip and flicked off his gun’s safety. Following suit, Sam took out the sawed-off he had stored under the back of his shirt.
“Let’s come up from the right. We’ll have a clear shot, but enough cover from the cabs that Tracksuit will never see us coming.”
“Got it.” Sam agreed.
By the time they made it to their cover, they could clearly see the Avengers were running out of energy, ammo, and ideas. It was a ludicrous scene: a single jogger beating 5 Avengers without breaking a sweat.
“Alright Sammy, I’m guessing the meatsuit has been dead for a while now, given how many times it’s been shot, so shoot for the head and I’ll aim for the heart.”
The brothers simultaneously took a deep breath, aimed, and fired.
The shots silenced all noise within the vicinity except for the howling of the demon laid out on the ground. It went against every fiber of Sam and Dean’s m.o., but they had no choice but to abandon their cover and make their way towards the demon in front of the hundreds of people watching from store fronts and office buildings.
As soon as the demon saw Sam and Dean Winchester approaching, it’s eyes went wide in panic and it started struggling to get up. “Fucking Winchesters?! What the hell are you doing here? I didn’t think you knew how to leave the backwoods of middle America!”
“Heya!” Dean greeted, “Oh no, don’t get up on our account.” He raised his gun and shot out both it’s knees completely. The demon fell back down onto the pavement with an agonized yell.
Sam stepped up, “What the hell is Crowley doing having you up here so publicly? I thought he preferred subtlety when interacting topside.”
Looking around at the their audience, Dean added, “Subtle, you ain’t. I know Crowley, unfortunately, and this isn’t like him at all.”
The demon, unable to keep from bragging, divulged, “That’s because Crowley isn’t in charge here. That pissant wannabe-King has nothing on who’s really in charge and what’s actually going on. He’s ruined Hell and is going to pay in blood.”
Sam and Dean watched as the black flicked away, revealing manic eyes, “I can’t wait to flay his skin from his face and feed it to that hellhound bitch he loves so much. I was a General before Crowley took over. A goddamn General! Powerful, feared, and respected. Now I’m a nothing but a laughingstock. All because of that midget salesman. I should’ve -”
“That’s tragic, really” Dean interrupted, “but if Crowley isn’t in charge, then who is? What are you doing here?”
The demon looked at them and let out a gargled laugh as blood began to bubble up out of it’s mouth, “What, you think because you ask nicely I’m going to spill state secrets? Get bent.”
Sam took the knife from Dean’s hand and crouched down until his face was mere inches from the demon’s, “Then we won’t ask nicely.”
Finally realizing the danger it was in, the demon opened it’s mouth to smoke out, but Sam brought his hand up to block it’s exit and stabbed the knife into it’s heart before it had a chance. They watched the last flickering moments of the demon’s existence before pulling the knife out and standing up.
********************************
“Uh...what?” Bucky ineloquently questioned as they all watched two lumberjack-looking dudes take out the seemingly indestructible tracksuit in under 5 minutes. Not only that, but -
“Did it look like he was afraid of them?” Bruce voiced exactly what Bucky had been thinking.
“Completely.” Natasha nodded. “It was like he knew them.”
The three individuals had been far enough away that nobody could hear what was said during the brief interaction.
“He did know them.” They all looked at Clint, who tapped his hearing aid, reminding them all he could read lips. “I couldn’t get anything the two flannels were saying with their backs to us, but he called them the Winchesters. I’m sure he said something about Hell and a Crowley, but the blood made his lips hard to read and they covered his mouth before stabbing him.”
“Looked like they electrocuted him.” Bucky stated, wondering about the type of weapons they were carrying.
“Today is a weird day.” Clint complained. “Can it be over now and we try again tomorrow?”
The team tensed when the two guys began making their way over; however, they were all distracted by Steve’s groaned return to consciousness behind them. He had been passed out for the entirety of the fight. Feeling like a semi-truck had run directly over his head, Steve very slowly sat up.
“What happened?”
Bucky was the first one at his side helping him. “Easy, Stevie. Easy. You were slugged pretty good by Black-eyes.”
“Demon.” They all tensed and turned towards the newcomers, who had stopped a few feet away.
“Wanna say that again?” Tony planted himself in between the two strangers and his teammates.
“That was a demon.” The shorter one supplied. “You know, Hell, fire, brimstone?”
“What kind of crazy are you?“ Tony asked incredulously, while Clint piped up from behind,
“Like Dan Brown ‘Angels and Demons’? Like an actual demon demon?”
The shorter one looked up at the taller one with a “wtf?” look on his face and looked back at Tony and Clint, “I dunno any Dan’s, but yeah, demon demon.”
“Drink. I need a goddamn drink.” Tony, completely done, put his faceplate back down and walked away as Natasha stepped up and Clint began circling the two, looking for additional weaponry.
“Who are you and what do you want?” Natasha leveled them with a stare that, if they hadn’t been seasoned hunters, would’ve made them hunch over in submission. As it was Sam couldn’t help fidgeting as he responded.
“Uh...nobody and nothing? We were just eating pizza when we -”
“Shit! My pizza!” Dean realized he had dropped his pizza on a rooftop when he spotted Ironman.
“- heard screaming.” Sam completely ignored Dean’s idiotic priorities and continued. “When we found out what was happening, we knew we had to come help.”
“And what exactly was happening, again?” Bruce questioned a few feet away where he was looking Steve over. “You honestly think we’re going to accept demons from Hell?”
As the group seemingly raised a collective skeptical eyebrow, Sam reasoned, “You all interact with the magical and multidimensional on a weekly basis and you can’t spare some belief for the supernatural? Heaven and Hell are both very real and very active. What you just fought against was a man being possessed by a demon.”
They disregarded Tony's voice faintly coming through his closed faceplate, “Straight. No ice. Two - no five, six? fingers.”
Bruce, after verifying that Steve was finally able to maintain a vertical position, approached, “You understand this is difficult to believe as what you’re saying implies the presence of an afterlife and, more notably, a God.”
“Uh, yeah,” Dean confirmed, “but don’t get too excited. He’s a bit of a bum.” Sam elbowed Dean for his disrespect towards Chuck. “Also, he’s kinda hashing crap out with his sister at the moment and is M.I.A.”
“Who says you can’t add an umbrella to a $2000 diamond cut scotch glass? I’ve earned it, damnit.” Clint, having performed an ocular pat down and ascertained the two men carried no other weapons, went over to Tony and patted a metallic shoulder in comfort.
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