The Short Second Life of Mil Winchester - Book 2

Happy Birthday, Mil! (reposted)

A/N: Hey guys! So this chapter's a little different, but it was a really awesome writing experience, so I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. Um, just a little heads up but there is a scene where the timeline doesn't quite match up. I decided I loved the scene too much to delete it, so I just used a little Author's license to make it work - so Dean in this went to Hell about two weeks before he did in canon. Sorry! Ps - Happy late birthday Emma Watson!

Anyway, enjoy!

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MIL

I couldn't help the grim smile that spread coldly across my face as I rattled off the exorcism that would send the black eyed demon tied to a chair in front of me back to his rightful place. His head whipped back and forth, and tortured screams rang above my latin words. The demon had been right; it did feel good to be at the head of the knife, not at the receiving end.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus. Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te. Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternea perditionis venenum propinare. Ut ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire. Te rogamus, audi nos."

With the final words, the demon's scream cut short in a cloud of black smoke. I could hear Fahima's breath draw in sharply behind me. The meatsuit's head dropped in lifelessness, and I felt my posture slump. The guy hadn't survived. Demons always ride them hard.

Fahima was watching me in curiosity as I turned away from the body, and approached my friend where she stood in the entrance, looking almost spooked.

"What was that?" She practically demanded.

I looked back on the boy, and sighed. "That was a demon. Son of a bitch always rides 'em hard just for kicks."

"Yeah, I gathered that was a demon," Fahima replied, with just a hint of sarcasm. "What were you saying?"

"Oh, that was an exorcism," I explained quickly. "Sends the demon back to Hell. Damn handy thing to memorise."

"Can you teach me?" was the immediate question.

I scoffed. "It's a bit hard to teach you, as such. But I can, and will, write out the words for you."

"Really?" Fahima asked keenly. "You would? Thanks a lot. Not that I'm planning on tussling with demons."

"Good," I snickered. "I don't like to scuffle with them myself."

We grinned at each other, and I led the way out of the warehouse, blinking my eyes against the bright midday sun.

I clapped a hand on Fahima's shoulder as she passed me on her way to the driver's seat of her Impala.

"Case well done, congrats," I said, smiling.

Fahima chuckled softly. "Yeah. Good work, Mil. How'd you figure it out it was a demon so quick?"

I glanced at the ground, and offered no explanation other than: "Years of practice." I missed taking down demons with my brothers. All of a sudden occupied with my thoughts, I got into the car, Fahima starting the engine in silence. Sam had called three more times since I'd declined his call a week ago. Every time, and even now, a lump had formed in my throat as I wrestled with myself not to answer the damn phone. I desperately wanted to. I missed my brothers more than I could function. At least it was starting to deaden my memories of Clarence and Hell. It was taking every fibre in my body not to sprint out that door and track them down; but something told me Seraphiel hadn't been bluffing, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I was selfish enough to get Sam killed just because I couldn't live without them - at least until I figured out a plan to get myself free from Seraphiel's spell. I was almost certain that Fahima hadn't noticed, but I'd been spending my sleepless nights researching the enochian binding spell that Seraphiel had activated between himself and I. As assumed, I'd come up with nothing. As for the fire 'tattoo' on my shoulder, well, that was another story.