18. "It Could Always Be Worse."

"I need to take a leak," Noah Cassity says about ten minutes later.

"Hold it," Sam orders.

"Yeah, at my age? Not really an option, so either you let me go or get me a bottle."

"Ugh," Cindy groans. "You're disgusting."

"Tasha," Sam calls, gesturing to me. I join him at the window when we see it: the Hellhound. Well, the outline of it, at least.

"You think it's coming to the house?"

"We'll find out."

I snap my head round at the sound of fleeing footsteps. I just barely glance at the back of Alice Cassity.

"Wait!" Sam bellows. Instead of one staying behind with the other two Cassitys, we both barrel after Alice. Sam is the first one the door. I only make it to the porch; the Hellhound's growling stops me. It sounds close.

"No!" Alice shouts as Sam retrieves her at her car. "No, no, please. Just let me go, please. Please." Sam grabs a hold of her, lugging her back towards the porch. Tears are down her face. "No! Please, don't hurt my family."

"We're not," Sam tells her firmly. "We're trying to help you."

"Sam," I squeak as they stop. They hear the hound too. Sam and I can see it. I tuck my shank away and keep the gun out in front of me, directed at the hound. "Get her inside."

"Get in the house," he tells Alice.

"What? What?" she stammers.

"Go!"

"Oh, God!"

"Go!"

With a little help on my part, I help Sam get Alice back into the living room. He recuffs her.

"So the prison break was a failure, huh?" Cindy mocks Alice.

"I've had enough out of you," I snarl.

"You have to believe us, Alice," Sam tells a blubbering Alice. She's still hysterical. "We're doing this to help you. You take off again and if by some chance we're not around, you're dead. We're here for protection. That goofer dust"—he points to the black line—"is for protection."

"Now, can we please have some quiet time?" My head is pounding from the glasses. I join Sam back at the window. The Hellhound isn't near the house any longer; it's changed course.

"It's heading for the barn," I note under my breath. I take count mentally. Somehow, for some reason, of all times, my mind connects the dots. "It's Ellie!"

"What?"

"Ellie, Sam! It's not these mooks in here who made a deal, it was her!" My mouth parts in horror. "Do you think Dean's found her and she's told him by now?"

"I guess there's only one way to find that out."

I turn my attention to the Cassitys. "None of you move. None of you try and escape. If you pee yourself, that's your own fault for downing all those glasses of wine."

"You can't just leave us like this!" Noah snaps as Sam and I begin to walk away.

"Oh the hell we can't. Don't worry, we won't leave without letting you go. Keep this shit up and we might just do that."

We leave in hopes that that shuts up the Cassitys for a while. I'm the first out the door into the night, shuffling down the stairs. With Sam by my side, we slink towards the barn.

"You sure you want to do this, Max?" Sam asks me. "I mean...you were—"

"I know, Sam," I say a bit sharply. "But if I go on future cases with Hellhounds, I better get over my fear of them now." Besides, this won't be my first time facing something dangerous. If I end up killing the hound, it won't be my first kill either. I won't feel bad adding the number either if I'm the one credited for it.

My ears pick up the Hellhound's growling. It's in the barn. Shit! I break out into a trot, and then that breaks into a full-out sprint. I hear the commotion going on inside. Don't be dead, don't be dead, don't be dead. I run for the opening of the barn, and the scene sets itself for me.

The first thing I see is the Hellhound, massive and grotesque like before. It's pawing its way towards Dean; the dust kicks up from its steps. Its breath can be seen, making it all the more frightening. My heart is running from adrenaline more than fear right now.

There's a bit of blood at the hound's feet, and I look to my right to see Dean against a wall, blood pooling from his left side. His glasses aren't on his face, and he's unarmed. Neither knows Sam and I are here.

"Hey, bitch!" I scream at the Hellhound. The second the hound turns its head towards me, I shoot it, catching it in the shoulder. Blood spurts out, and the hounds whines in pain.

In a second, Sam is at my side, and he takes his turn at the hound. He catches a hit, and the hound whines in pain, but it also growls. I roll with my plan. As Sam rolls for Dean's knife (which I have seen him have once before), I run to the man himself, protecting the both of us with my gun. I want to shoot the hound again, but now that it's over Sam and Sam is holding it back by his left hand, I can't risk taking the shot. I don't want Dean to kill me when all I'm trying to do is help kill the damn Hellhound.

I rip the glasses off and throw them away—my vision is being screwed up. I can still see the hound as it tries to get past Sam's hand and bite his face off. I hold down the bile as the knife cuts into the hound's belly, bathing Sam in black blood.

I watch in horror, frozen with terror, as I see the hound shudder one last time before Sam throws it off. I lower the gun, trembling violently. I blink a few times to try and get the image out of my head.

Sam did it. He killed the hound. The first trial...it's done. Somehow, now of all times, I remembered the trial. That's why we're on the farm in the first place.

"What did I say about following me?" Dean rasps. I look down at him, lying on his back, blood still coming out from his side.

"You would have been dog chow if we hadn't." I turn my attention to him, kneeling down. I hiss. "I guess it could be worse, huh?"

"It could always be worse, Maxipad. You okay?"

"I'm...fine." I give him a lopsided attempt at a smile.

"Go find Ellie and get her here."

"I've got a better idea: I get us all to her room. Come on." I help Dean to his feet. He's not limping, but he doesn't brush off putting an arm over my shoulder for me to support him. "Sam, do you need help?"

"No. Just—just give me a minute," he pants, still bathed in black blood.

"Tell me where to go," I tell Dean.

With his directions, I come barging into Ellie's room, with Dean barely using me for support now. Sam files in behind us, having shed his button down shirt. His white shirt is stained black as well. Ellie is in a protective goofer dust circle, thankfully having stayed in the entire time like the smart woman she is.

"It's over, Ellie," I say to her. "Got any first aid supplies?"

In twenty minutes, I have Dean sitting on her bed, and her wrapping up his side. I rub the back of my neck, my mind still a whirl. I should tell them. I have to tell them. But why should I? This was a one-time deal. We shouldn't have to encounter Hellhounds again. But I can't guarantee that.

"You need to go to a hospital," Ellie suggests once her patchwork is done.

"Oh, I've had worse," says Dean.

"Yeah, he's had worse," Sam confirms.

"So, what now?" asks Ellie.

"Now we make a hex bag, and you start running," Dean explains. "If Crowley can't find you, then he won't be able to sic another mutt on you."

"So I'm not going to Hell?"

"Not on my watch. Will you give us a minute?"

"Sure."

"Thanks."

Ellie leaves the three of us, and I hear the door open and close.

"Dean, even if she can dodge Crowley, as soon as Ellie dies, her soul is earmarked for Hell," Sam reminds him.

"Not if we shut it down first." Dean takes Sam's button-down shirt.

"The spell's not gonna work for you, Dean."

Dean sighs, pulling the paper out of his pocket. "Kah-nuh-ahm-dahr." Nothing happens after we wait for a minute. "Doesn't matter. We'll track down another Hellhound, and I'll kill it."

"No."

"Sam, I didn't pass the test."

"But I did...And I'm doing the rest of them."

"My ass you are!"

"I'm closing the gates. It's a suicide mission for you."

"Like it's not for you, Sam?" I cut in worriedly.

"Sam..." Dean tries.

"I want to slam Hell shut, too, okay?" Sam says. "But I want to survive it. I want to live, and so should you. You have friends up here, family. I mean, hell, you even got your own room now. You were right, okay? I see the light at the end of this tunnel. And I'm sorry you don't—I am. But it's there. And if you come with me, I can take you to it."

"Sam, be smart."

"I am smart, and so are you. You're not a grunt, Dean. You're a genius—when it comes to lore, to—you're the best damn hunter I have ever seen—better than me, better than Dad. I believe in you, Dean. So, please—please believe in me, too."

Dean hands the paper over to Sam. I bite my thumbnail, finding an alternative to scratching my arm.

Sam sighs. "Kah-nuh-ahm-dahr."

I hear the whoosh, and Sam twists around, falling to his knees in grunts of pain.

"Sammy?" Dean panics.

"Sam!" Now it's my turn to panic, as Sam isn't responding.

I watch the paper fall out of Sam's hands. My eyes bug as I notice his right arm and hand highlight with a bright white light. I cock my head, concerned.

"You okay?" Dean asks.

Sam is still gasping. The light soon disappears from his arm. He grabs the paper in a clenched fists and stands up.

"I'm good," he pants. "I'm okay. I can do this."

Dean and I exchange a look. Though I haven't been around long, I'm almost as worried as Dean is about his younger brother. I'm worried about what these trials entail as an endgame when they're all completed.

My seeing a Hellhound without the holy oiled glasses is put on the backburner for another time.

**Any guesses, folks, as to why Max could see the hound? People are sniffing in the right direction but they don't quite have it. Think like me, readers. Dig deep.**