Requiem for Snow
Title: Requiem For Snow
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Michael!Dean, Sam, Castiel, Melpomene, Gabriel, Mnemosyne, Heather Nate, Bobby, Morpheus
Notes: This story follows canon up to Changing Channels - sort of - and borrows chunks of the rest of Season Five completely at random. This story has no beta. I also apologize for taking over a year to update this story. Life and other plot bunnies attacked.
Trailer 1 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8LXZM9nRC4
Trailer 2 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wijPDaRc9iA
Trailer 3 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3eR1JNDxstk
Warnings:Mild violence, language, complete disregard for Greek Mythological Canon
Summary: The January before he went to Hell, Dean and his brother Sam faced the Last Calusa in Key West, Florida. Following the defeat of this ancient curse, the brothers left, barreling straight into their destiny and the inevitable showdown against Lilith and her minions. But what they assumed was just another hunt was actually a key part in the plans of the Apocalypse. A plan not laid by the powers below, but by the ones up above.
It was a long weekend. Sam couldn't remember a weekend that seemed as long as this one had been. Castiel had never come back from Cicero, livid over what had happened. Not that Sam entirely blamed him. Cas has done a lot for him and Dean, given up a lot and taken risks that he didn't have to. But, deep down, Sam had a feeling he knew why his brother had done it. It was the same sacrifice that his father would take as well. He may not have a lot of faith the plan that the muses, their mother and Michael had come up with, but it was a hell of a lot better than watching Heather and Ben take on the fight that was destined to be his and Dean's. If all they did was postpone this fight for a handful of centuries, or even better, a couple more millennium, by the time it did happen, they would all be long dead and mankind will have moved off of planet Earth.
“You got everything?” He looked over at Heather, who was sitting next to him in the front seat, in the place that was usually his.
“Uh huh.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks for taking me to school today.”
“No problem.” He sighed. “You're done at three-thirty, right?”
“Yeah.” She rubbed her temple. “I think I'm going to spend this week making up tests at lunch.”
Sam nodded. “You sleep last night?”
“A little. I just... I haven't been sleepy, or tired...” She gave him a half-smile, more nervous than happy. “Only thing I've been is hungry.”
He laughed. “Well, you did shoot up six inches in the past two and half weeks. And don't take this the wrong way, but uh... now that you've ah... evened out, you look like you've been as sick as we've told people you were.”
She snorted. “I was average, Sam. Not fat.”
“Did I say that?” He turned the Impala into the school parking lot. “Those scale things about weight and height never take genetics into consideration anyway.”
“And we're what, exactly?” She gave him a look. “I mean, I can't exactly say that I'm Greek...”
“Danish, Dutch, German, English, Welsh and Irish.” Sam eased the car up to the curb. “And you're more Italian than you are Greek.” He held up a finger. “The pantheon moved, I know you know that.”
“Yeah, well, after the past few months, I think if I ever met him, I'd punch Percy Jackson in the face.” She picked up her bag. “Guess I'll have to tell Nate I can't leave the salvage yard.”
“That's a school project, that's the only thing you can leave for.” He gave her a worn smile. “And for the record, Heath-bar, I'd rather have you spent the last three weeks were you did than the alternative.”
“Thanks.” She opened the door and got out of the car.
Sam watched as she headed up the stairs, and went inside. He shifted the Impala into gear and pulled away. He wasn't sure what he and Bobby were supposed to do now. Cas gone who knew where, Dean and Michael even more so - and none of the muses hadn't been in contact. The twenty-seventh was rapidly approaching and the only job he seemed to have was not let Lucifer find him. He was planning on staying in the salvage yard and not going on hunts himself, and really, what else was he going to do?
“Is that really your plan?” A voice said from the backseat and, had he not been at a stop sign, Sam was certain he would have had a wreck.
“Morpheus?” He took a few deep breaths before starting to drive again. “What the fuck?”
“Yeah, I missed you too.” He leaned forward against the back of the front seat. “Look, I can't stay long or I'll be missed. Just keep Saturday open, all right?”
“What's Saturday?” He nudged the demi-god with his elbow. “And is your seat-belt on?”
“I don't need lectures on safety from you.” He chuckled. “Let's just say that's the next time I can meet Death.”
“Death?” He gave Morpheus a stunned look in the rear-view mirror. “Like, the Horseman?”
“Well, yes, considering my uncle is dead.” He shook his head. “Look, this is going to be extremely risky because while all of us were looking at something else, Lucifer bound Death to him. This could be our only chance to talk to him before things really go south.” He leaned back in the seat, looking drained. “Without that ring, we can't open the portal into the cage.”
“I know.” He frowned. “Who's got Pestilence's ring anyway?”
“It's on Olympus.” Morpheus leaned forward again. “Oh, and just so you know, your brother is fine. He and Michael are off cleaning out vampire nests in South America.” He was gone as quickly as he came.
“Damn it!” Sam slammed his hand against the steering wheel.
*
Heather was trying not to pay attention to the people staring at her as she moved down the hallway at school. She knew she looked different and she'd been gone for a while, but seriously, other than the six inches, had she changed all that much? Maybe she was seriously underestimating how big of a change that was. It couldn't be helped, in any case. Her teachers hadn't said much to her when she'd turned in her assignments. She had quizzes to make up in math and science, several spelling tests in English, and a test in history as well. There were also going to be tests in nearly every class next week for the end of the quarter. Sighing, she stuffed her books into her bag, glad for the day's end. She'd have to ask Sam if she was allowed to stay after school to make up tests or not.
“Hey, Heather.” She looked to her left and saw Nate leaning against the row of lockers. “Didn't get to talk to you much in class today. Uh... did you get any work done on our project?” His voice sounded strained, as if he was holding back the urge to say more than he was.
“Yes, actually.” She offered him a wan smile as she shoved her history book into her bag. “The platform and stand are completely painted, the trees are made, but not painted, they needed to dry.”
“Awesome, I've got the figures and the box painted, I'm still working on the buildings. How's the surface of the platform?”
“Good. I managed to make miniatures of all the weapons and their domes. Well, I want to make a few backups on the domes in case they break, but I'd say it's about three rounds with a hot glue gun, a needle and some fishing line away from being done.” Heather set her bag down and pulled on her coat. “This is going to sound really weird, but I'm having trouble with how slow walking is. Does that make sense?”
“Well, considering what you've been doing for the past few weeks, I'd say yes.” He folded his arms, watching the other students file past them.
“At least I'm used to being aware again.” She shouldered her bag and they headed down the hall together. “That was really the weirdest thing about it. It was like being in the front seat of a roller coaster that's going a hundred and twenty miles an hour. That was, when I could see.”
Nate nodded slowly as they turned towards the exit. “What was it like the rest of the time?”
“I was asleep. And I'm talking like, perfect sleep. Like curled up all safe in warm in a quilt in front of a fire and nothing is ever going to harm you again sleep.” She shook her head. “I mean, I haven't had sleep that good in... since I lived in Indianapolis.”
“Damn.” They both hunched their shoulders as they went into the late winter afternoon. “You think you'll be up for working on the project Thursday?”
“Thursday works. I should have the trees done by then.” She coughed and turned towards the line of cars waiting to pick students up, picking out the Impala about ten cars back. “You want to put everything together this weekend? Or at least get everything in one place?”
“Uh, I think we can manage that.” Nate stuffed his hands into his pockets as the horn from the Impala sounded. “We'll work it out on Thursday.”
“Sure.” She headed towards the car. “See you later.” Heather bent into the wind as she walked towards her waiting ride. Seriously, did Sam think she was going to do something insane in front of all these people? She jerked the passenger door open and slid into the front seat, slamming the door behind her. “Hi.”
“Hey.” Sam watched her as she fastened her seat belt. “How was school?”
“Fine.” She gave him a wan look. “Shoot any monsters today?”
He gave a weak laugh as he put the Impala into gear. “No, but it's still early, plenty of time for monster killing before dinner.”
“We still having stew?” She adjusted how she was sitting.
“Yeah. Can't believe Bobby didn't know he had a crock-pot until you found it.” He shook his head. “Then again, I think he just keeps track of his books and the cars outside and that's about as good as he can get.”
“Are you still mad at me?” She bit at her bottom lip.
“I was never mad at you.” He glanced at her. “I understand why you did what you did. Maybe there's enough blame to go around in all of this.” He let out a breath. “And honestly, I think you might deserve the least amount of it. If any.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You know, you're a real lousy liar, Sam.”
“What are you talking about?” His voice had an odd pitch to it. “What am I lying about?”
“That you weren't mad at me.” She swallowed. “How do I know that?” She saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel. “No, seriously... I'm not asking how I know that, I'm asking how the hell did I know you were lying about it?”
“That's what I want to know.” He blanched, as if he just realized what he said. “Okay, you're right, I was pissed. But it wasn't for very long - I think Dean was angrier.”
“Well, how do you think I feel about all this?” She leaned back in the seat and covered her eyes with her hand. “Let's not fight. We can figure it out later.”
“Yeah.” Came Sam's short reply. “Not a problem.”
Heather didn't dare mention he was lying again.
**
Castiel couldn't bring himself to return to Sioux Falls after going with the Bradens. He now found himself wandering once again, uncertain of what, exactly, he was looking for. He wasn't looking for God, because it was clear that he didn't want to be found. Nor could the angel figure out how to find him the way humans did. A problem of being an angel, he supposed - emotions were lost on him. If that's what it took to understand what Erato had told him a month ago. In short, he found himself lost all over again and unwilling to return to South Dakota.
He leaned against the railing of the bridge, looking down into the swirling waters of San Francisco Bay. Well, he would be looking down into the water, if the city was not hung thick with fog. He had a feeling he needed to be here, but he couldn't place it exactly. It was one of those things he just knew, like the time he'd been there to help the reapers after the Battle of Gettysburg. Any time there was a catastrophic death toll on earth, angels were called in to help gather souls, both the damned and the saved.
Mankind would certainly be surprised just how few people fell into the earlier category.
How many religions condemned another faith over their beliefs? Castiel had long ago stopped counting. There were many atheists who were better examples of decent human beings than some of the self-righteous men who walked the earth, finding sin in the simplest of pleasures.
Castiel may not have the sort of faith an angel should have, he supposed, but even he had to admit that anyone who thought it a sin to laugh and be joyful on a sabbath day had spent too much time reading the book of Leviticus and not enough time reading the Psalms. Human religion in and of itself was more confusing than human emotions.
He was about to move away from the railing and from the city itself when he felt it. A tiny tremor, a fraction of give in the earth and then, it repeated itself, a little stronger. No human could feel it yet, but they would - very soon. The angel straightened up, bracing himself against the railing, waiting, holding his breath as he scanned the city with his mind, wondering if this was a non-apocalyptic event or merely an unfortunate coincidence. It only took a second, but then he felt Death. The horseman was in the city. This wasn't a fated event, it was unique, and it would be terrible. He swallowed hard, and other things started bursting in his mind. Facts and statistics of this whole area, the people, the animals, the strongest and weakest points all brushing across his conscience and settling down around his awareness like dry leaves gusting around a tree in the autumn.
The fog swept away from the city with the speed of a curtain being thrown back. The sky above was revealed in a brilliant shade of blue - and then the earth awoke with a shudder it hadn't in this city in two decades.
**
Holy shit, we're up high. Was the only thing Dean could think as he looked out over a city he didn't recognize. He and Michael were standing on top of a building, invisible to the rest of the world, slowly scanning the area. The hunter was vaguely aware of the archangel's thoughts, but they were about as clear as his own sense of being in control. It was like looking at the page of a book you knew by heart in a language you couldn't even name.
The glimpse at reality and the world around him faded almost as quickly as it came, and Dean found himself once again tucked into the back of his own mind, put quietly to sleep until Michael let him wake up again.
In his dreams, he was Lisa's home in Cicero. He could smell the roasting chicken in the oven, the heady scent of herbs thick in the air. When he looked into the dining room, the table was set for ten people, and it could seat all of them comfortably. Dean frowned to himself as he stepped around the table, reading the name cards - the dinner was fancy enough for them - and the silver shone. His name was at the head of the table, and then down on his right: Sam, Jess, Jimmy, Claire. Lisa's was at the other end, opposite of his, and heading back towards him: Ben, John, Mary, Jo.
“Dinner's ready!” Lisa's voice called out, and Dean turned back towards the kitchen to help bring in the food. As he was returning, carrying a steaming serving bowl full of mashed potatoes, he realized something he hadn't when he'd looked at the name cards.
His parents were seated at the dinner table, as was Jess. All three of them were dead.
More alarming to him was the fact that neither Bobby nor Heather was there.
He couldn't say which worried him more; the fact that they weren't present, or that he hadn't noticed it right away.
*
Ben hadn't really liked coming back to Indiana. For some strange reason, he felt a lot safer in South Dakota than he did here. While the angel assured both him and his mom that they were in no danger, it didn't change the fact that he knew more about what was going on than he wanted to. It also didn't help that he now knew that Dean Winchester was his dad. Well, father, as mom put it. Being a dad required a lot more than just being the other half of his DNA.
Maybe when things were over, Dean could come live with them here in Cicero. Maybe Sam could come too - but that might be weird. There was also Heather. It wasn't like she had done anything other than reappear. As much as he wanted to deny it, Ben instinctively knew that if Dean came to live with them here, Heather wouldn't. Something told him that his mom wouldn't want her around. He hadn't missed the look his mother had given the girl and neither had she. Ben couldn't understand why his mom gave his sister - I have a sister - a look that clearly was full of distaste. Heather's look had been strange - rather like a cat backed into a corner, searching for an escape. That hadn't made any sense to him at all.
Then again, given the week they were having, he could have well being seeing things.
Things might be a little easier if the angel had stayed. Ben was certain they'd be safer if Castiel was still here, but the angel said he couldn't remain. Just him being there was an alarm bell, rather than another level of security. When Ben asked what that meant, he received the frustrating answer of 'it's complicated' before leaving.
In Ben's mind, 'it's complicated' was just another version of 'you're too young to understand' that adults started using once your age was older than nine.
He shrugged one shoulder strap off of his backpack and swung it around to his front so he could pull his key out of the front pocket. He unlocked the back door, let himself inside, quickly turned off the alarm before resetting it. Mom had gotten slightly paranoid after the incident with the changelings. Ben didn't blame her too much - but again, he had a feeling that ADT didn't have an emergency code for monsters.
“Anybody home?” He didn't expect a reply and tossed his backpack onto the kitchen counter, heading for the fridge.
The only response he got was the furnace kicking on.
Ben opened the freezer, got out the bag of pizza rolls and a jug of Ocean Spray out of the fridge. While he waited for his after-school snack to heat up in the microwave, he flipped on the television, deciding that his homework could wait at until after his daily dose of Law & Order. He was about to change to TNT from the news station his mom watched when he stopped, the remote falling from his hand in shock.
He recognized San Francisco skyline - or at least, that's what he thought it was. “Shit, I mean, shoot...” He said involuntarily, surprised at his curse. Ben fumbled for the remote, turned up the volume and went to get his snack, more focused on listening than anything else.
“The quake was recorded at being a seven point two on the Richter Scale and was felt as far north as Vancouver and as far south as...”
“Watching TV, Ben?” His mom's voice caused him to jump.
“Uh, I was just going to watch while I was eating my snack.” He swallowed and gestured towards the screen. “Did you know about the quake in California?”
“Oh, it's awful, isn't it?” His mom set her bag down and gave him an smile. “I'm going to go take a shower.” She turned and headed out of the kitchen.
Ben didn't turn around when the microwave beeped, the smell of overcooked pepperoni hanging in the air. His mom had sounded weird; like the way she sounded for a week after the changeling incident. Did Mom know someone in San Francisco? Or was it something else? He let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding and went over to retrieve his snack. He had a very bad feeling that the earthquake was just the start of the bad stuff that was starting to happen.
Maybe the bad things had been going on and he hadn't noticed.
He was going to do some research after his homework was done.
**
“I'll be back to pick you up at six.” Sam said to Heather as they pulled up next to the Turabian's house. “Unless you call.”
Heather nodded. “Got it - and thanks.”
“It's too far for you to walk.” Sam replied, running a hand through his hair. “And even if you had a bike or something, the roads are icy.”
“True.” She got out of the Impala, pulling her backpack over her shoulder and then opened the door to the backseat and took the cardboard box that held her share of her and Nate's project. “Although I bet if I look hard enough, I can probably find a way to turn one of those cars at Uncle Bobby's into a snowmobile.”
He snorted in reply. “I don't think he'd let you do that. Hell, I wouldn't let you do that.”
“Yeah.” She adjusted her hold on the box, shut the back door and waved at him as the Impala pulled away. “Just like you're not still pissed at me.” She turned and headed up the drive. Nate's house reminded her of Beth's back in Jasper. A siding-covered split level with a wind chime on the front porch. Rock salt crunched under her boots as she went up to the front door, rather surprised that Sam hadn't waited for her to get into Nate's home before leaving. “Wonder where the rush is for him.” She rang the bell, stomping her feet against the large mat to shake the excess salt and snow off her boots.
Nate's face appeared and he opened the inner door before holding the glass storm door open for her. “Hey, morning.”
“Hi. Thanks. I'm not too early, am I?” She came inside, waiting for him to shut the door.
“No, although I'll warn you since I know you're a basketball nut,” He took the box from her so she could take off her coat and boots. “My dad's school, Iowa, is playing Georgia Tech today.”
“I understand. Bug me during the game and you're dead meat, right?” She took her things back from him.
“Exactly.” He led her down the hallway. “Mom, this is Heather.”
“Hi, Mrs. Turabian.” She managed a half-wave.
Mrs. Turabian looked to be in her late forties, with brown hair and a very warm smile. She looked up from - whatever she was doing at the kitchen table, Heather couldn't quite tell. “Hello, Heather. You two have fun working on your shadow box.” Her expression turned serious. “And keep the door to the basement open, Nathan.”
“Mom!” Nate said, indignantly, and Heather was glad she kept her face blank as they headed downstairs. “I can't believe she said that!”
“Maybe she thinks we're seventeen instead of thirteen.” She stated as they came into the finished basement and into a small nook that held a large work table, on which was a painted cardboard box. “That looks awesome.”
“Thanks.” He rubbed his nose. “Either that, or my mom's just been waiting for a chance to embarrass me in front of a girl, you know?” His face drained of color slightly. “I mean...”
“It's okay.” Heather set her box down and then her backpack. “It's the girls in our class and the eighth graders I hear in the bathrooms about how their moms are making their lives hell that piss me off.”
“Yeah.” He took a breath. “Didn't get a chance to ask you, did you get all your tests and stuff made up?”
“Uh huh. I'm just glad that the teachers didn't ask what I had. I think they all believe I had some form of mono, or a mental breakdown. The later seems more plausible.” She started to examine the large box that was sitting on the table, the outside of it painted with the boxy, boring buildings described in the book, the lower building on each side having a projector screen showing the scene within. “This is fantastic.”
“Thanks.” Nate opened her box. “I can't believe how many trees you made in the time you did.”
“Well, it's like I told you, I haven't been sleeping all that much. A few hours a night is all I need. That's mainly how I got so caught up so fast.” Heather stepped back from the table, looking at the components of their project for a moment. “Do you think we went overboard with this?”
Nate looked up from examining the hubcap turned platform. “Naa...” He grinned. “It's seventy percent of our grade.” He carefully set the platform down, not wanting to disturb the six small domes that were hot-glued to the canvas surface. “And I'd say we're getting an A.” He frowned for a moment. “Are these domes actual glass?”
“Yeah. Had a little fun with a blowtorch.” She shrugged. “Don't worry,” She saw the stunned look on his face. “I wore gloves.”
He kept staring at her. “You're crazy, Kittridge.”
“What, because I took a blowtorch to an empty bottle of Jim Beam?” She leaned back against the wall, rubbing her temple. “Don't tell Mrs. Fasci that, she might want to know where I got it.” She slid down to the floor, staring at her shoes. She didn't look up as she heard him move to sit next to her. “Sorry.”
“Don't be.” He set a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it, rather awkwardly. “I shouldn't have called you crazy.”
“I am a little crazy. Most girls my age wouldn't think of doing what I did with the domes. I wanted them to look real and plastic wasn't going to cut it with me.” She leaned back against the wall, her eyes closed. “This is going to sound childish, but I really want my mom and dad right now.”
“Given what you've been through, I don't blame you.” She could tell by his tone that he meant it
She felt the tears slip down her cheeks. “I'm sorry, we should be working.”
“No, it's okay.” He took a breath. “We just have to assemble the thing. That means we need to think of something to do while glue dries.”
Heather rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands and then took a deep breath of her own. “What, like discuss how we can repeat the process of showing off our superior skills next year?”
Nate chuckled. “Sorry, the science fair is a solo project.” They stood up. “So you're staying in Sioux Falls then?”
“Most likely - maybe just until the end of junior high. After that, I don't know.” She pulled a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. “I really hate not knowing.”
“I don't blame you.” He went over to the shelves on the far wall and came back with his own materials for the shadow box. “You ever seen Red Dwarf?”
*
Morpheus pulled the collar of his coat up and bent his head into the wind as the snow and ice lashed down against him, the cold as bitter as any he could remember in his long life. This had to be the worst ice storm Helsinki had seen in decades. The whole thing should have reached Russia by now, but the infernal storm was stalled, unable to move forward, thanks to Death. When he finally reached the diner that was his destination, it was almost a shock to see the lights on inside. No human in their right mind would be out in this sort of weather. He pulled hard on the nearly frozen-shut door and the contrast once he was inside made him cough.
“You're late.” The voice was gravely and worn.
He pulled off his stocking hat and stomped his boots free of snow and rock salt. “Apologies.” Morpheus finished taking off his scarf, gloves and unbuttoned his coat. The small restaurant was heavy with the scent of roast, biscuits - and death.
“Sit.” The man in the black suit pointed to an empty chair on the other side of his table.
The much younger being made his way across the room, carefully stepping over the handful of humans that lay sprawled on the floor, rigor mortis already settling in on the bodies. He set his coat and wraps on the table next to the occupied one, slowly sliding into the offered chair. Morpheus had met Death before - and he remained one of the few things in the universe that absolutely terrified him. “Sir.”
“Still so polite.” Death looked up from his plate of food. “As if that is ever going to save you.” He held up his hand before Morpheus could reply. “But it is a trait I do wish more of your kind had possessed.”
“We do what we have to do.” He swallowed hard.
“Contrary to what many think, I'm not one for senseless destruction.” He waved his free hand while stabbing a piece of meat with the fork he held in the other. “Earthquakes, hurricanes, floods, blizzards - I find them to be boring.” He took a bite of food and then pushed the basket of bread towards Morpheus. “Have some.”
“Thank you.” He took a slice of toast from the offered basket and set it on the plate, before slowly buttering it. “It does smell good.”
“Yes.” Death turned his attention to his meat again while Morpheus doctored his toast. “And I know why you are here.”
He looked up from his plate. “Again, I am...”
“Quit sniveling like a child. I know why it has taken you so long. Believe me, I am no more amused at the current situation than you are.” He shook his head. “And no, I do not lament what has happened to my brothers. They have always been so... eager when they are allowed to play upon the Earth. Being subtle isn't their strong point.”
Morpheus couldn't repress the snort that escaped his lips as he set the knife down and picked the bread up.
“And so they have been sent to their respective corners of Hell until called for again.” Death chuckled. “For myself, I require freedom.”
Morpheus took a bite of the bread, watching him, not entirely certain of how this was going to proceed. He had known that Death was more than willing to help lock Lucifer back up in Hell and let the world go on its merry, confused and stumbling way - but there was always a price.
“How astute.” The Horseman held up the hand on which his ring resided. “I want the Gates sealed. No demons leave Hell, no angels leave Heaven - only the souls of mankind may enter where they are destined.” Surprise must have shown on his face, because Death smiled. “For twenty-five years. Once that time is over, the locks may be unbound and life goes on as normal.” He smirked. “And your grandmother will remain where she is. She is as bound to that home of yours as much as you yourself are.”
“Wouldn't we need...” He set the toast down. “the Tablets?”
“That is how humans seal the Gates. But you, you're not human, are you?” Death smirked and picked up his coffee cup.
His hand shaking, Morpheus picked up his toast and took another bite. He knew exactly what the Horseman meant. “I could not do it until June.”
“I know that.” Death gave him a look he couldn't place. “Although I will say, when your grandmother bestowed those keys to you, she never dreamed you'd have to use them.”
He set the half-eaten bread down. “She might have...”
“Oh, shut up, boy.” Death gave him a chilling look. “Your grandmother is very old, but she does not know everything.”
Humbled, Morpheus bowed his head and picked at his toast, not trusting himself to speak.
“It's not so much to ask, is it?” There was something he didn't like about the Horseman's tone. Something that told him that there was something else going on; something that would make him regret doing what he asked. “It's humanity burning or facing an uncertain fate. It's your decision.”
Morpheus closed his eyes, thinking what that uncertain fate could be. With angels in Heaven and demons in Hell, there would be only the children of Eve and beings like himself left on the planet to stalk mankind. There were hunters, there were those among each kind who could skirt around peacefully - and no plots were in motion among the pagans; the Apocalypse had seemed to put all plans on hold. He took a deep breath, lifted his head and made his choice.
**
“The school's run out of snow days.” Heather poked at the fire, busting up the nearly burnt log, before adding another one to the blaze. “I think it ran out of them before President's Day.”
“Well, I'm not objecting to you staying, kid.” Bobby replied, standing to put a book back. “It's kind of nice having you around.”
“Thanks.” She dusted her hands off and then pulled the sleeves of her overlarge hoodie down over them. “Looks like I'll be in school at least until Flag Day at this point.”
“Yeah.” He took a sip of coffee. “Of course, the blackouts are annoying.”
“I think it's the lack of a microwave that's the most bothersome.” She shrugged as Sam came downstairs, carrying the blankets from the upstairs closet and setting them on the sofa. “And I'm the one who has to listen to the two of you sawing logs at night.”
Sam snorted. “We're not that bad.”
“I think all those years of firing guns off without ear protection has messed up your hearing.” She sat down in the large easy chair. “If my phone wasn't dead, I'd shoot a video.”
Bobby shook his head. “I think she's got us with the hearing thing, Sam.”
“Maybe.” He sat down on the couch, rubbing his eyes. “I hate cabin fever.”
“That's because you've moved around so much.” The old hunter replied. “You're not used to being stationary for so long.” He shook his head. “I just hope we can get to Bethel when we need to.”
“That should not be a problem, the storm is moving off.” Castiel's voice said from the kitchen and he came into the room, frowning. “What is wrong?”
“Wrong?” Sam cleared his throat. “You haven't been here over a week. You haven't checked in, and...”
“I have had things to do.” Castiel said flatly, sitting stiffly down in one of the empty chairs. “I've been helping in San Francisco.”
“Now there's an awful mess.” Bobby shook his head. “You okay?”
“As okay as I can be, considering the circumstances.” He looked over at Heather. “You've changed.” He turned to Sam before she could reply. “Have you talked to Morpheus or any of the others?”
“I talked to Erato on Sunday night. They have Death's ring. She said now it's just a matter of everyone keeping their heads down until the end of the month.” He snorted. “This weather does help in that department.”
“I still do not entirely support this plan.” Castiel said, folding his arms. “But compared to most of the alternatives, it is the best option.”
“There's just one thing I don't understand...” Sam said, rubbing his temple.
“One thing?” Heather spoke up, folding her arms.
Sam stared at her, mouth agape as she grinned and Bobby started to laugh.
“I do not get what is so amusing.” Castiel interjected as Heather began to chuckle, as did Sam.
His words made the three of them laugh all the harder, their mirth shutting out the sound of ice and wind roaring outside.
**
Michael once again found himself sitting under a bridge. It was rather calming, really. Being sheltered from the winds and out of sight of almost every living thing. It was different, being in Dean's body. He didn't feel so constricted, there was no need to hold back. He had healed Heather's body, of course, but just his possession of her had done some damage that he wasn't certain could be undone. Her growing six inches was the least of it. He leaned back against the support beam, staring down into the swirling water of the Yangtze River.
“Where the hell are we?” Dean's voice is groggy, half-awake. The man can only sense that they've stopped, Michael knows he cannot see what he does.
“China.” He lets out a breath. “It's been a week and a half.”
“Still sleepy. Why am I so sleepy?” Dean yawned in the corner of his own mind, and Michael smiled as the felt the man tuck himself back into that place.
“It's the years of lost sleep, Dean. All those nights, waiting for your father to come home, the research, the hunts, the worry, the nightmares of Hell. An average person spends a third of their life asleep - I'd wager you've maybe spent one-sixteenth of the life you've lived in slumber.” Michael swung down towards the river, vanishing before they hit the water, reappearing on the rocks that towered above Cape Horn.
“So what, I'm catching up?” Another yawn, and Dean's voice grew faint again.
“Something like that.” Michael stood, shoving the hands of his vessel into the pocket of the coat he was wearing. He let out a breath and turned towards the motion he felt behind him. “Morpheus.”
“Michael.” The demigod was crouched on a rock above him, his hands bracing against the stone, holding him in place.
“Have you found the girls?” He shifted to a different rock so they were closer together, but he still had to look up at the much younger supernatural being.
“Yes. They'll be moved soon. There's only so many places in Bethel where they can be left and not be noticed.”
“You've done well.” He frowned. “You're still worried, aren't you?”
Morpheus blinked in response, his blue eyes betraying nothing. “Can you blame me?” He sighed and moved to a sit. “I know you angels are big into the just taking things on faith, but that is far easier said than done.”
Michael sighed. “I know.” He let out a breath. “And I feel that I have asked a lot of you and your family in all of this.”
“There's been a lot asked of all of us, Michael.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe I am just tired of it all.” He sighed. “Does that make sense?”
“Yes.” As much as he wanted to shift onto the same rock the demigod was on, he didn't dare. “Contrary to what you may think, I do not share the opinion that many angels have of you pagans.”
“I think the fault is in the fact that the majority of angels see things as black or white, good or bad - and it's far easier to throw us all into the category of bad, merely for the methods most have to use to stay alive.” Morpheus stood and stretched. “The ones who prey upon mankind outnumber those that don't, and quite frankly, I find it rather prejudicial that those of us belonging to the Western Pantheons are hunted down with more vigor than those of the Eastern.”
“Several gods of the Eastern Pantheons remain strong. Not as much was they once were, but...” He stopped speaking as Morpheus held up his hand.
“I know how things go, Michael. I've been walking around on this planet and through the minds of men and women since shortly after the Flood. I know you're far older, but forgive me, I think I know how mankind works better than you do.” Morpheus raised his chin, and in his face, Michael could see his long-lost sister. “When this is over, you'll go back to Heaven, along with all the other angels. Meanwhile, mankind will struggle on at the mercy of the demons and Eve's children. But then, most of her children are just like me - trying to survive. Would that all of us knew what moderation was.”
“I cannot understand the children of purgatory any better than I can understand mankind, Morpheus. The lack of emotions is a curse you cannot imagine.” He looked towards the sea. “And, I suppose it is a blessing too.”
“You wouldn't want emotions, Michael. I've fed off of them long enough to know just how devastating they are; and how they influence mankind.” There was a pause. “We all do things we later regret, Michael. My uncle Ares weeps for the Amazons. In trying to help, he created a race of beings in which all but a handful are guilty of patricide.”
“And yet, Amazons fight some of the more lethal of the denizens of Hell and Purgatory.” He almost laughed. “Some good inside the bad.” He turned back towards him. “Again, with the emotions.”
“Sometimes I wish I was an angel.” Morpheus said it more to the rock and the sea than to him. “And then, there are times when I'm glad I am not.” He looked up, a small smile playing on his lips. “For while emotions are my sustenance, I will always know humans better than any angel can even dare hope too.” He inclined his head and then vanished, leaving Michael alone.
The archangel sighed and looked back towards the maelstrom that had begun to gather above his head. For a brief moment, he considered clearing the sky and calming the ocean; but then, this was the way the world worked. He made sure that Dean was still slumbering peacefully before stepping off the rock and flying towards the coast of Africa.
There were demons to take to task and send back to Hell.
Chapter 26
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Michael!Dean, Sam, Castiel, Melpomene, Gabriel, Mnemosyne, Heather Nate, Bobby, Morpheus
Notes: This story follows canon up to Changing Channels - sort of - and borrows chunks of the rest of Season Five completely at random. This story has no beta. I also apologize for taking over a year to update this story. Life and other plot bunnies attacked.
Trailer 1 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8LXZM9nRC4
Trailer 2 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wijPDaRc9iA
Trailer 3 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3eR1JNDxstk
Warnings:Mild violence, language, complete disregard for Greek Mythological Canon
Summary: The January before he went to Hell, Dean and his brother Sam faced the Last Calusa in Key West, Florida. Following the defeat of this ancient curse, the brothers left, barreling straight into their destiny and the inevitable showdown against Lilith and her minions. But what they assumed was just another hunt was actually a key part in the plans of the Apocalypse. A plan not laid by the powers below, but by the ones up above.
It was a long weekend. Sam couldn't remember a weekend that seemed as long as this one had been. Castiel had never come back from Cicero, livid over what had happened. Not that Sam entirely blamed him. Cas has done a lot for him and Dean, given up a lot and taken risks that he didn't have to. But, deep down, Sam had a feeling he knew why his brother had done it. It was the same sacrifice that his father would take as well. He may not have a lot of faith the plan that the muses, their mother and Michael had come up with, but it was a hell of a lot better than watching Heather and Ben take on the fight that was destined to be his and Dean's. If all they did was postpone this fight for a handful of centuries, or even better, a couple more millennium, by the time it did happen, they would all be long dead and mankind will have moved off of planet Earth.
“You got everything?” He looked over at Heather, who was sitting next to him in the front seat, in the place that was usually his.
“Uh huh.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks for taking me to school today.”
“No problem.” He sighed. “You're done at three-thirty, right?”
“Yeah.” She rubbed her temple. “I think I'm going to spend this week making up tests at lunch.”
Sam nodded. “You sleep last night?”
“A little. I just... I haven't been sleepy, or tired...” She gave him a half-smile, more nervous than happy. “Only thing I've been is hungry.”
He laughed. “Well, you did shoot up six inches in the past two and half weeks. And don't take this the wrong way, but uh... now that you've ah... evened out, you look like you've been as sick as we've told people you were.”
She snorted. “I was average, Sam. Not fat.”
“Did I say that?” He turned the Impala into the school parking lot. “Those scale things about weight and height never take genetics into consideration anyway.”
“And we're what, exactly?” She gave him a look. “I mean, I can't exactly say that I'm Greek...”
“Danish, Dutch, German, English, Welsh and Irish.” Sam eased the car up to the curb. “And you're more Italian than you are Greek.” He held up a finger. “The pantheon moved, I know you know that.”
“Yeah, well, after the past few months, I think if I ever met him, I'd punch Percy Jackson in the face.” She picked up her bag. “Guess I'll have to tell Nate I can't leave the salvage yard.”
“That's a school project, that's the only thing you can leave for.” He gave her a worn smile. “And for the record, Heath-bar, I'd rather have you spent the last three weeks were you did than the alternative.”
“Thanks.” She opened the door and got out of the car.
Sam watched as she headed up the stairs, and went inside. He shifted the Impala into gear and pulled away. He wasn't sure what he and Bobby were supposed to do now. Cas gone who knew where, Dean and Michael even more so - and none of the muses hadn't been in contact. The twenty-seventh was rapidly approaching and the only job he seemed to have was not let Lucifer find him. He was planning on staying in the salvage yard and not going on hunts himself, and really, what else was he going to do?
“Is that really your plan?” A voice said from the backseat and, had he not been at a stop sign, Sam was certain he would have had a wreck.
“Morpheus?” He took a few deep breaths before starting to drive again. “What the fuck?”
“Yeah, I missed you too.” He leaned forward against the back of the front seat. “Look, I can't stay long or I'll be missed. Just keep Saturday open, all right?”
“What's Saturday?” He nudged the demi-god with his elbow. “And is your seat-belt on?”
“I don't need lectures on safety from you.” He chuckled. “Let's just say that's the next time I can meet Death.”
“Death?” He gave Morpheus a stunned look in the rear-view mirror. “Like, the Horseman?”
“Well, yes, considering my uncle is dead.” He shook his head. “Look, this is going to be extremely risky because while all of us were looking at something else, Lucifer bound Death to him. This could be our only chance to talk to him before things really go south.” He leaned back in the seat, looking drained. “Without that ring, we can't open the portal into the cage.”
“I know.” He frowned. “Who's got Pestilence's ring anyway?”
“It's on Olympus.” Morpheus leaned forward again. “Oh, and just so you know, your brother is fine. He and Michael are off cleaning out vampire nests in South America.” He was gone as quickly as he came.
“Damn it!” Sam slammed his hand against the steering wheel.
*
Heather was trying not to pay attention to the people staring at her as she moved down the hallway at school. She knew she looked different and she'd been gone for a while, but seriously, other than the six inches, had she changed all that much? Maybe she was seriously underestimating how big of a change that was. It couldn't be helped, in any case. Her teachers hadn't said much to her when she'd turned in her assignments. She had quizzes to make up in math and science, several spelling tests in English, and a test in history as well. There were also going to be tests in nearly every class next week for the end of the quarter. Sighing, she stuffed her books into her bag, glad for the day's end. She'd have to ask Sam if she was allowed to stay after school to make up tests or not.
“Hey, Heather.” She looked to her left and saw Nate leaning against the row of lockers. “Didn't get to talk to you much in class today. Uh... did you get any work done on our project?” His voice sounded strained, as if he was holding back the urge to say more than he was.
“Yes, actually.” She offered him a wan smile as she shoved her history book into her bag. “The platform and stand are completely painted, the trees are made, but not painted, they needed to dry.”
“Awesome, I've got the figures and the box painted, I'm still working on the buildings. How's the surface of the platform?”
“Good. I managed to make miniatures of all the weapons and their domes. Well, I want to make a few backups on the domes in case they break, but I'd say it's about three rounds with a hot glue gun, a needle and some fishing line away from being done.” Heather set her bag down and pulled on her coat. “This is going to sound really weird, but I'm having trouble with how slow walking is. Does that make sense?”
“Well, considering what you've been doing for the past few weeks, I'd say yes.” He folded his arms, watching the other students file past them.
“At least I'm used to being aware again.” She shouldered her bag and they headed down the hall together. “That was really the weirdest thing about it. It was like being in the front seat of a roller coaster that's going a hundred and twenty miles an hour. That was, when I could see.”
Nate nodded slowly as they turned towards the exit. “What was it like the rest of the time?”
“I was asleep. And I'm talking like, perfect sleep. Like curled up all safe in warm in a quilt in front of a fire and nothing is ever going to harm you again sleep.” She shook her head. “I mean, I haven't had sleep that good in... since I lived in Indianapolis.”
“Damn.” They both hunched their shoulders as they went into the late winter afternoon. “You think you'll be up for working on the project Thursday?”
“Thursday works. I should have the trees done by then.” She coughed and turned towards the line of cars waiting to pick students up, picking out the Impala about ten cars back. “You want to put everything together this weekend? Or at least get everything in one place?”
“Uh, I think we can manage that.” Nate stuffed his hands into his pockets as the horn from the Impala sounded. “We'll work it out on Thursday.”
“Sure.” She headed towards the car. “See you later.” Heather bent into the wind as she walked towards her waiting ride. Seriously, did Sam think she was going to do something insane in front of all these people? She jerked the passenger door open and slid into the front seat, slamming the door behind her. “Hi.”
“Hey.” Sam watched her as she fastened her seat belt. “How was school?”
“Fine.” She gave him a wan look. “Shoot any monsters today?”
He gave a weak laugh as he put the Impala into gear. “No, but it's still early, plenty of time for monster killing before dinner.”
“We still having stew?” She adjusted how she was sitting.
“Yeah. Can't believe Bobby didn't know he had a crock-pot until you found it.” He shook his head. “Then again, I think he just keeps track of his books and the cars outside and that's about as good as he can get.”
“Are you still mad at me?” She bit at her bottom lip.
“I was never mad at you.” He glanced at her. “I understand why you did what you did. Maybe there's enough blame to go around in all of this.” He let out a breath. “And honestly, I think you might deserve the least amount of it. If any.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You know, you're a real lousy liar, Sam.”
“What are you talking about?” His voice had an odd pitch to it. “What am I lying about?”
“That you weren't mad at me.” She swallowed. “How do I know that?” She saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel. “No, seriously... I'm not asking how I know that, I'm asking how the hell did I know you were lying about it?”
“That's what I want to know.” He blanched, as if he just realized what he said. “Okay, you're right, I was pissed. But it wasn't for very long - I think Dean was angrier.”
“Well, how do you think I feel about all this?” She leaned back in the seat and covered her eyes with her hand. “Let's not fight. We can figure it out later.”
“Yeah.” Came Sam's short reply. “Not a problem.”
Heather didn't dare mention he was lying again.
**
Castiel couldn't bring himself to return to Sioux Falls after going with the Bradens. He now found himself wandering once again, uncertain of what, exactly, he was looking for. He wasn't looking for God, because it was clear that he didn't want to be found. Nor could the angel figure out how to find him the way humans did. A problem of being an angel, he supposed - emotions were lost on him. If that's what it took to understand what Erato had told him a month ago. In short, he found himself lost all over again and unwilling to return to South Dakota.
He leaned against the railing of the bridge, looking down into the swirling waters of San Francisco Bay. Well, he would be looking down into the water, if the city was not hung thick with fog. He had a feeling he needed to be here, but he couldn't place it exactly. It was one of those things he just knew, like the time he'd been there to help the reapers after the Battle of Gettysburg. Any time there was a catastrophic death toll on earth, angels were called in to help gather souls, both the damned and the saved.
Mankind would certainly be surprised just how few people fell into the earlier category.
How many religions condemned another faith over their beliefs? Castiel had long ago stopped counting. There were many atheists who were better examples of decent human beings than some of the self-righteous men who walked the earth, finding sin in the simplest of pleasures.
Castiel may not have the sort of faith an angel should have, he supposed, but even he had to admit that anyone who thought it a sin to laugh and be joyful on a sabbath day had spent too much time reading the book of Leviticus and not enough time reading the Psalms. Human religion in and of itself was more confusing than human emotions.
He was about to move away from the railing and from the city itself when he felt it. A tiny tremor, a fraction of give in the earth and then, it repeated itself, a little stronger. No human could feel it yet, but they would - very soon. The angel straightened up, bracing himself against the railing, waiting, holding his breath as he scanned the city with his mind, wondering if this was a non-apocalyptic event or merely an unfortunate coincidence. It only took a second, but then he felt Death. The horseman was in the city. This wasn't a fated event, it was unique, and it would be terrible. He swallowed hard, and other things started bursting in his mind. Facts and statistics of this whole area, the people, the animals, the strongest and weakest points all brushing across his conscience and settling down around his awareness like dry leaves gusting around a tree in the autumn.
The fog swept away from the city with the speed of a curtain being thrown back. The sky above was revealed in a brilliant shade of blue - and then the earth awoke with a shudder it hadn't in this city in two decades.
**
Holy shit, we're up high. Was the only thing Dean could think as he looked out over a city he didn't recognize. He and Michael were standing on top of a building, invisible to the rest of the world, slowly scanning the area. The hunter was vaguely aware of the archangel's thoughts, but they were about as clear as his own sense of being in control. It was like looking at the page of a book you knew by heart in a language you couldn't even name.
The glimpse at reality and the world around him faded almost as quickly as it came, and Dean found himself once again tucked into the back of his own mind, put quietly to sleep until Michael let him wake up again.
In his dreams, he was Lisa's home in Cicero. He could smell the roasting chicken in the oven, the heady scent of herbs thick in the air. When he looked into the dining room, the table was set for ten people, and it could seat all of them comfortably. Dean frowned to himself as he stepped around the table, reading the name cards - the dinner was fancy enough for them - and the silver shone. His name was at the head of the table, and then down on his right: Sam, Jess, Jimmy, Claire. Lisa's was at the other end, opposite of his, and heading back towards him: Ben, John, Mary, Jo.
“Dinner's ready!” Lisa's voice called out, and Dean turned back towards the kitchen to help bring in the food. As he was returning, carrying a steaming serving bowl full of mashed potatoes, he realized something he hadn't when he'd looked at the name cards.
His parents were seated at the dinner table, as was Jess. All three of them were dead.
More alarming to him was the fact that neither Bobby nor Heather was there.
He couldn't say which worried him more; the fact that they weren't present, or that he hadn't noticed it right away.
*
Ben hadn't really liked coming back to Indiana. For some strange reason, he felt a lot safer in South Dakota than he did here. While the angel assured both him and his mom that they were in no danger, it didn't change the fact that he knew more about what was going on than he wanted to. It also didn't help that he now knew that Dean Winchester was his dad. Well, father, as mom put it. Being a dad required a lot more than just being the other half of his DNA.
Maybe when things were over, Dean could come live with them here in Cicero. Maybe Sam could come too - but that might be weird. There was also Heather. It wasn't like she had done anything other than reappear. As much as he wanted to deny it, Ben instinctively knew that if Dean came to live with them here, Heather wouldn't. Something told him that his mom wouldn't want her around. He hadn't missed the look his mother had given the girl and neither had she. Ben couldn't understand why his mom gave his sister - I have a sister - a look that clearly was full of distaste. Heather's look had been strange - rather like a cat backed into a corner, searching for an escape. That hadn't made any sense to him at all.
Then again, given the week they were having, he could have well being seeing things.
Things might be a little easier if the angel had stayed. Ben was certain they'd be safer if Castiel was still here, but the angel said he couldn't remain. Just him being there was an alarm bell, rather than another level of security. When Ben asked what that meant, he received the frustrating answer of 'it's complicated' before leaving.
In Ben's mind, 'it's complicated' was just another version of 'you're too young to understand' that adults started using once your age was older than nine.
He shrugged one shoulder strap off of his backpack and swung it around to his front so he could pull his key out of the front pocket. He unlocked the back door, let himself inside, quickly turned off the alarm before resetting it. Mom had gotten slightly paranoid after the incident with the changelings. Ben didn't blame her too much - but again, he had a feeling that ADT didn't have an emergency code for monsters.
“Anybody home?” He didn't expect a reply and tossed his backpack onto the kitchen counter, heading for the fridge.
The only response he got was the furnace kicking on.
Ben opened the freezer, got out the bag of pizza rolls and a jug of Ocean Spray out of the fridge. While he waited for his after-school snack to heat up in the microwave, he flipped on the television, deciding that his homework could wait at until after his daily dose of Law & Order. He was about to change to TNT from the news station his mom watched when he stopped, the remote falling from his hand in shock.
He recognized San Francisco skyline - or at least, that's what he thought it was. “Shit, I mean, shoot...” He said involuntarily, surprised at his curse. Ben fumbled for the remote, turned up the volume and went to get his snack, more focused on listening than anything else.
“The quake was recorded at being a seven point two on the Richter Scale and was felt as far north as Vancouver and as far south as...”
“Watching TV, Ben?” His mom's voice caused him to jump.
“Uh, I was just going to watch while I was eating my snack.” He swallowed and gestured towards the screen. “Did you know about the quake in California?”
“Oh, it's awful, isn't it?” His mom set her bag down and gave him an smile. “I'm going to go take a shower.” She turned and headed out of the kitchen.
Ben didn't turn around when the microwave beeped, the smell of overcooked pepperoni hanging in the air. His mom had sounded weird; like the way she sounded for a week after the changeling incident. Did Mom know someone in San Francisco? Or was it something else? He let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding and went over to retrieve his snack. He had a very bad feeling that the earthquake was just the start of the bad stuff that was starting to happen.
Maybe the bad things had been going on and he hadn't noticed.
He was going to do some research after his homework was done.
**
“I'll be back to pick you up at six.” Sam said to Heather as they pulled up next to the Turabian's house. “Unless you call.”
Heather nodded. “Got it - and thanks.”
“It's too far for you to walk.” Sam replied, running a hand through his hair. “And even if you had a bike or something, the roads are icy.”
“True.” She got out of the Impala, pulling her backpack over her shoulder and then opened the door to the backseat and took the cardboard box that held her share of her and Nate's project. “Although I bet if I look hard enough, I can probably find a way to turn one of those cars at Uncle Bobby's into a snowmobile.”
He snorted in reply. “I don't think he'd let you do that. Hell, I wouldn't let you do that.”
“Yeah.” She adjusted her hold on the box, shut the back door and waved at him as the Impala pulled away. “Just like you're not still pissed at me.” She turned and headed up the drive. Nate's house reminded her of Beth's back in Jasper. A siding-covered split level with a wind chime on the front porch. Rock salt crunched under her boots as she went up to the front door, rather surprised that Sam hadn't waited for her to get into Nate's home before leaving. “Wonder where the rush is for him.” She rang the bell, stomping her feet against the large mat to shake the excess salt and snow off her boots.
Nate's face appeared and he opened the inner door before holding the glass storm door open for her. “Hey, morning.”
“Hi. Thanks. I'm not too early, am I?” She came inside, waiting for him to shut the door.
“No, although I'll warn you since I know you're a basketball nut,” He took the box from her so she could take off her coat and boots. “My dad's school, Iowa, is playing Georgia Tech today.”
“I understand. Bug me during the game and you're dead meat, right?” She took her things back from him.
“Exactly.” He led her down the hallway. “Mom, this is Heather.”
“Hi, Mrs. Turabian.” She managed a half-wave.
Mrs. Turabian looked to be in her late forties, with brown hair and a very warm smile. She looked up from - whatever she was doing at the kitchen table, Heather couldn't quite tell. “Hello, Heather. You two have fun working on your shadow box.” Her expression turned serious. “And keep the door to the basement open, Nathan.”
“Mom!” Nate said, indignantly, and Heather was glad she kept her face blank as they headed downstairs. “I can't believe she said that!”
“Maybe she thinks we're seventeen instead of thirteen.” She stated as they came into the finished basement and into a small nook that held a large work table, on which was a painted cardboard box. “That looks awesome.”
“Thanks.” He rubbed his nose. “Either that, or my mom's just been waiting for a chance to embarrass me in front of a girl, you know?” His face drained of color slightly. “I mean...”
“It's okay.” Heather set her box down and then her backpack. “It's the girls in our class and the eighth graders I hear in the bathrooms about how their moms are making their lives hell that piss me off.”
“Yeah.” He took a breath. “Didn't get a chance to ask you, did you get all your tests and stuff made up?”
“Uh huh. I'm just glad that the teachers didn't ask what I had. I think they all believe I had some form of mono, or a mental breakdown. The later seems more plausible.” She started to examine the large box that was sitting on the table, the outside of it painted with the boxy, boring buildings described in the book, the lower building on each side having a projector screen showing the scene within. “This is fantastic.”
“Thanks.” Nate opened her box. “I can't believe how many trees you made in the time you did.”
“Well, it's like I told you, I haven't been sleeping all that much. A few hours a night is all I need. That's mainly how I got so caught up so fast.” Heather stepped back from the table, looking at the components of their project for a moment. “Do you think we went overboard with this?”
Nate looked up from examining the hubcap turned platform. “Naa...” He grinned. “It's seventy percent of our grade.” He carefully set the platform down, not wanting to disturb the six small domes that were hot-glued to the canvas surface. “And I'd say we're getting an A.” He frowned for a moment. “Are these domes actual glass?”
“Yeah. Had a little fun with a blowtorch.” She shrugged. “Don't worry,” She saw the stunned look on his face. “I wore gloves.”
He kept staring at her. “You're crazy, Kittridge.”
“What, because I took a blowtorch to an empty bottle of Jim Beam?” She leaned back against the wall, rubbing her temple. “Don't tell Mrs. Fasci that, she might want to know where I got it.” She slid down to the floor, staring at her shoes. She didn't look up as she heard him move to sit next to her. “Sorry.”
“Don't be.” He set a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it, rather awkwardly. “I shouldn't have called you crazy.”
“I am a little crazy. Most girls my age wouldn't think of doing what I did with the domes. I wanted them to look real and plastic wasn't going to cut it with me.” She leaned back against the wall, her eyes closed. “This is going to sound childish, but I really want my mom and dad right now.”
“Given what you've been through, I don't blame you.” She could tell by his tone that he meant it
She felt the tears slip down her cheeks. “I'm sorry, we should be working.”
“No, it's okay.” He took a breath. “We just have to assemble the thing. That means we need to think of something to do while glue dries.”
Heather rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands and then took a deep breath of her own. “What, like discuss how we can repeat the process of showing off our superior skills next year?”
Nate chuckled. “Sorry, the science fair is a solo project.” They stood up. “So you're staying in Sioux Falls then?”
“Most likely - maybe just until the end of junior high. After that, I don't know.” She pulled a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. “I really hate not knowing.”
“I don't blame you.” He went over to the shelves on the far wall and came back with his own materials for the shadow box. “You ever seen Red Dwarf?”
*
Morpheus pulled the collar of his coat up and bent his head into the wind as the snow and ice lashed down against him, the cold as bitter as any he could remember in his long life. This had to be the worst ice storm Helsinki had seen in decades. The whole thing should have reached Russia by now, but the infernal storm was stalled, unable to move forward, thanks to Death. When he finally reached the diner that was his destination, it was almost a shock to see the lights on inside. No human in their right mind would be out in this sort of weather. He pulled hard on the nearly frozen-shut door and the contrast once he was inside made him cough.
“You're late.” The voice was gravely and worn.
He pulled off his stocking hat and stomped his boots free of snow and rock salt. “Apologies.” Morpheus finished taking off his scarf, gloves and unbuttoned his coat. The small restaurant was heavy with the scent of roast, biscuits - and death.
“Sit.” The man in the black suit pointed to an empty chair on the other side of his table.
The much younger being made his way across the room, carefully stepping over the handful of humans that lay sprawled on the floor, rigor mortis already settling in on the bodies. He set his coat and wraps on the table next to the occupied one, slowly sliding into the offered chair. Morpheus had met Death before - and he remained one of the few things in the universe that absolutely terrified him. “Sir.”
“Still so polite.” Death looked up from his plate of food. “As if that is ever going to save you.” He held up his hand before Morpheus could reply. “But it is a trait I do wish more of your kind had possessed.”
“We do what we have to do.” He swallowed hard.
“Contrary to what many think, I'm not one for senseless destruction.” He waved his free hand while stabbing a piece of meat with the fork he held in the other. “Earthquakes, hurricanes, floods, blizzards - I find them to be boring.” He took a bite of food and then pushed the basket of bread towards Morpheus. “Have some.”
“Thank you.” He took a slice of toast from the offered basket and set it on the plate, before slowly buttering it. “It does smell good.”
“Yes.” Death turned his attention to his meat again while Morpheus doctored his toast. “And I know why you are here.”
He looked up from his plate. “Again, I am...”
“Quit sniveling like a child. I know why it has taken you so long. Believe me, I am no more amused at the current situation than you are.” He shook his head. “And no, I do not lament what has happened to my brothers. They have always been so... eager when they are allowed to play upon the Earth. Being subtle isn't their strong point.”
Morpheus couldn't repress the snort that escaped his lips as he set the knife down and picked the bread up.
“And so they have been sent to their respective corners of Hell until called for again.” Death chuckled. “For myself, I require freedom.”
Morpheus took a bite of the bread, watching him, not entirely certain of how this was going to proceed. He had known that Death was more than willing to help lock Lucifer back up in Hell and let the world go on its merry, confused and stumbling way - but there was always a price.
“How astute.” The Horseman held up the hand on which his ring resided. “I want the Gates sealed. No demons leave Hell, no angels leave Heaven - only the souls of mankind may enter where they are destined.” Surprise must have shown on his face, because Death smiled. “For twenty-five years. Once that time is over, the locks may be unbound and life goes on as normal.” He smirked. “And your grandmother will remain where she is. She is as bound to that home of yours as much as you yourself are.”
“Wouldn't we need...” He set the toast down. “the Tablets?”
“That is how humans seal the Gates. But you, you're not human, are you?” Death smirked and picked up his coffee cup.
His hand shaking, Morpheus picked up his toast and took another bite. He knew exactly what the Horseman meant. “I could not do it until June.”
“I know that.” Death gave him a look he couldn't place. “Although I will say, when your grandmother bestowed those keys to you, she never dreamed you'd have to use them.”
He set the half-eaten bread down. “She might have...”
“Oh, shut up, boy.” Death gave him a chilling look. “Your grandmother is very old, but she does not know everything.”
Humbled, Morpheus bowed his head and picked at his toast, not trusting himself to speak.
“It's not so much to ask, is it?” There was something he didn't like about the Horseman's tone. Something that told him that there was something else going on; something that would make him regret doing what he asked. “It's humanity burning or facing an uncertain fate. It's your decision.”
Morpheus closed his eyes, thinking what that uncertain fate could be. With angels in Heaven and demons in Hell, there would be only the children of Eve and beings like himself left on the planet to stalk mankind. There were hunters, there were those among each kind who could skirt around peacefully - and no plots were in motion among the pagans; the Apocalypse had seemed to put all plans on hold. He took a deep breath, lifted his head and made his choice.
**
“The school's run out of snow days.” Heather poked at the fire, busting up the nearly burnt log, before adding another one to the blaze. “I think it ran out of them before President's Day.”
“Well, I'm not objecting to you staying, kid.” Bobby replied, standing to put a book back. “It's kind of nice having you around.”
“Thanks.” She dusted her hands off and then pulled the sleeves of her overlarge hoodie down over them. “Looks like I'll be in school at least until Flag Day at this point.”
“Yeah.” He took a sip of coffee. “Of course, the blackouts are annoying.”
“I think it's the lack of a microwave that's the most bothersome.” She shrugged as Sam came downstairs, carrying the blankets from the upstairs closet and setting them on the sofa. “And I'm the one who has to listen to the two of you sawing logs at night.”
Sam snorted. “We're not that bad.”
“I think all those years of firing guns off without ear protection has messed up your hearing.” She sat down in the large easy chair. “If my phone wasn't dead, I'd shoot a video.”
Bobby shook his head. “I think she's got us with the hearing thing, Sam.”
“Maybe.” He sat down on the couch, rubbing his eyes. “I hate cabin fever.”
“That's because you've moved around so much.” The old hunter replied. “You're not used to being stationary for so long.” He shook his head. “I just hope we can get to Bethel when we need to.”
“That should not be a problem, the storm is moving off.” Castiel's voice said from the kitchen and he came into the room, frowning. “What is wrong?”
“Wrong?” Sam cleared his throat. “You haven't been here over a week. You haven't checked in, and...”
“I have had things to do.” Castiel said flatly, sitting stiffly down in one of the empty chairs. “I've been helping in San Francisco.”
“Now there's an awful mess.” Bobby shook his head. “You okay?”
“As okay as I can be, considering the circumstances.” He looked over at Heather. “You've changed.” He turned to Sam before she could reply. “Have you talked to Morpheus or any of the others?”
“I talked to Erato on Sunday night. They have Death's ring. She said now it's just a matter of everyone keeping their heads down until the end of the month.” He snorted. “This weather does help in that department.”
“I still do not entirely support this plan.” Castiel said, folding his arms. “But compared to most of the alternatives, it is the best option.”
“There's just one thing I don't understand...” Sam said, rubbing his temple.
“One thing?” Heather spoke up, folding her arms.
Sam stared at her, mouth agape as she grinned and Bobby started to laugh.
“I do not get what is so amusing.” Castiel interjected as Heather began to chuckle, as did Sam.
His words made the three of them laugh all the harder, their mirth shutting out the sound of ice and wind roaring outside.
**
Michael once again found himself sitting under a bridge. It was rather calming, really. Being sheltered from the winds and out of sight of almost every living thing. It was different, being in Dean's body. He didn't feel so constricted, there was no need to hold back. He had healed Heather's body, of course, but just his possession of her had done some damage that he wasn't certain could be undone. Her growing six inches was the least of it. He leaned back against the support beam, staring down into the swirling water of the Yangtze River.
“Where the hell are we?” Dean's voice is groggy, half-awake. The man can only sense that they've stopped, Michael knows he cannot see what he does.
“China.” He lets out a breath. “It's been a week and a half.”
“Still sleepy. Why am I so sleepy?” Dean yawned in the corner of his own mind, and Michael smiled as the felt the man tuck himself back into that place.
“It's the years of lost sleep, Dean. All those nights, waiting for your father to come home, the research, the hunts, the worry, the nightmares of Hell. An average person spends a third of their life asleep - I'd wager you've maybe spent one-sixteenth of the life you've lived in slumber.” Michael swung down towards the river, vanishing before they hit the water, reappearing on the rocks that towered above Cape Horn.
“So what, I'm catching up?” Another yawn, and Dean's voice grew faint again.
“Something like that.” Michael stood, shoving the hands of his vessel into the pocket of the coat he was wearing. He let out a breath and turned towards the motion he felt behind him. “Morpheus.”
“Michael.” The demigod was crouched on a rock above him, his hands bracing against the stone, holding him in place.
“Have you found the girls?” He shifted to a different rock so they were closer together, but he still had to look up at the much younger supernatural being.
“Yes. They'll be moved soon. There's only so many places in Bethel where they can be left and not be noticed.”
“You've done well.” He frowned. “You're still worried, aren't you?”
Morpheus blinked in response, his blue eyes betraying nothing. “Can you blame me?” He sighed and moved to a sit. “I know you angels are big into the just taking things on faith, but that is far easier said than done.”
Michael sighed. “I know.” He let out a breath. “And I feel that I have asked a lot of you and your family in all of this.”
“There's been a lot asked of all of us, Michael.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe I am just tired of it all.” He sighed. “Does that make sense?”
“Yes.” As much as he wanted to shift onto the same rock the demigod was on, he didn't dare. “Contrary to what you may think, I do not share the opinion that many angels have of you pagans.”
“I think the fault is in the fact that the majority of angels see things as black or white, good or bad - and it's far easier to throw us all into the category of bad, merely for the methods most have to use to stay alive.” Morpheus stood and stretched. “The ones who prey upon mankind outnumber those that don't, and quite frankly, I find it rather prejudicial that those of us belonging to the Western Pantheons are hunted down with more vigor than those of the Eastern.”
“Several gods of the Eastern Pantheons remain strong. Not as much was they once were, but...” He stopped speaking as Morpheus held up his hand.
“I know how things go, Michael. I've been walking around on this planet and through the minds of men and women since shortly after the Flood. I know you're far older, but forgive me, I think I know how mankind works better than you do.” Morpheus raised his chin, and in his face, Michael could see his long-lost sister. “When this is over, you'll go back to Heaven, along with all the other angels. Meanwhile, mankind will struggle on at the mercy of the demons and Eve's children. But then, most of her children are just like me - trying to survive. Would that all of us knew what moderation was.”
“I cannot understand the children of purgatory any better than I can understand mankind, Morpheus. The lack of emotions is a curse you cannot imagine.” He looked towards the sea. “And, I suppose it is a blessing too.”
“You wouldn't want emotions, Michael. I've fed off of them long enough to know just how devastating they are; and how they influence mankind.” There was a pause. “We all do things we later regret, Michael. My uncle Ares weeps for the Amazons. In trying to help, he created a race of beings in which all but a handful are guilty of patricide.”
“And yet, Amazons fight some of the more lethal of the denizens of Hell and Purgatory.” He almost laughed. “Some good inside the bad.” He turned back towards him. “Again, with the emotions.”
“Sometimes I wish I was an angel.” Morpheus said it more to the rock and the sea than to him. “And then, there are times when I'm glad I am not.” He looked up, a small smile playing on his lips. “For while emotions are my sustenance, I will always know humans better than any angel can even dare hope too.” He inclined his head and then vanished, leaving Michael alone.
The archangel sighed and looked back towards the maelstrom that had begun to gather above his head. For a brief moment, he considered clearing the sky and calming the ocean; but then, this was the way the world worked. He made sure that Dean was still slumbering peacefully before stepping off the rock and flying towards the coast of Africa.
There were demons to take to task and send back to Hell.
Chapter 26