Fire In Your New Shoes, 3/6. NC-17.
Title: Fire In Your New Shoes
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17 for language, violence and sex.
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur(/Eames)
Disclaimer: Inception characters belong to Christopher Nolan. Supernatural characters belong to Kripke. I own nothing but the actual plot to this, and even that is up to debate. :)
Spoilers/Warnings: Inception AU fusion with Supernatural. This is also an AU of Supernatural, diverging from canon in season five and begins in November 2009.
For the inception_kink meme prompt in round 11: Arthur Campbell was born and raised as a hunter, since hunting is the ‘family business’. He ran for his life for years, since all relatives of Mary Campbell were persecuted and killed, so he doesn't know much about Sam and Dean except they are family.
Author's Note: This is the third attempt at filling this prompt. I first snagged it in November 2010, IIRC, and had to scrap that first attempt at it. Then I had to scrap my second attempt in December 2010. I then left this alone for all of 2011. Sorry it took me so long OP! I had to brush up on canon and completely rework the plot AGAIN to make this work. Hopefully it works this time. :)
The scene with Famine contains dialogue lifted directly from the episode, as was part of the scene with Death.
Summary: Arthur Campbell never approved of his Winchester cousins using demonic help to take down other demons. When other hunters are killed while helping them stop Lucifer, he calls on supernatural aid of his own to help them.
Big Bang art located here!
Previous chapters:
One - Red On The Inside
Two - We Raise A Fever
Three - All To See Here
Eames driving that afternoon was nearly impossible to track. That didn't stop them from trying, which was an exercise in futility; neither Ariadne nor Arthur could figure out where they were. The road wasn't on any map, the bugs looked positively prehistoric and the desert around them looked like nothing either had seen of the midwest. If either of them had to guess, Eames was taking them between, which was all but impossible for mortals to survive without going insane. Of course, they were under his protection and not foolish enough to tumble from the SUV while he was driving, but it was still unnerving to contemplate. Ariadne threaded her fingers through Arthur's and tried not to shiver at the thought of being lost between for eternity. It would pass in a moment or drag out until her bones were dust, depending on the eddy of magical current she was caught on. Hunters whispered about the Second Worlders and the places they had come from; no matter what names the hunters used, it all boiled down to the same thing: no one survived prolonged exposure to the weird and wacky that made up the Second World.
Eames threw his hand behind him, unerringly landing on their tangled hands. "There, now. This is a short cut, is all. Welcome to South Dakota. There's still some Creation left in me, after all." He turned his head to look at them and winked slyly, then slowed. Outside of the SUV, it almost looked like they had come out into real space again, with roads that looked like roads again. Sunset had already passed, and the sky was darkening as they pulled into the parking lot of Singer Auto Self Service Salvage Yard. It looked run down, and Ariadne missed Cobb's guest room already.
Striding confidently to the front door of the house, Eames knocked on the door. He scoffed at Arthur's low "He's not going to answer you," and merely knocked in a more commanding way, grinning at the fish eye lens in the door. "Oi! Bobby! Open up."
The door opened a crack, door chain in place. Bobby eyed him warily, looking up at them from his wheelchair, hands hidden behind the door. Arthur was convinced he had a 12 gauge shotgun aimed at them. "Who the fuck are you?"
"I've sometimes been known as Coyote and this is Arthur Campbell," Eames said, not looking perturbed in the slightest. Something ticked in Bobby's jaw at the name Coyote, but there was only mistrust in his eyes, not the all consuming anger that had been in Arthur's. Then again, Eames hadn't fucked with his head one time too many.
Ariadne merely linked her hand with Arthur's, lending him some of her quiet strength. She watched Bobby shut the door far enough to slide back the chain. He didn't invite them in yet, merely poured out water for the three of them from a pitcher by the door.
Bobby stared at them all as they drank, unperturbed. It had been years since he had seen Arthur Campbell last, but that didn't mean he would automatically trust him. Especially not now. He didn't even flick his eyes up at the demon trap painted above the entrance way to his home. None of the three were screaming in terror or pain, and all three could progress into his living room without getting stuck once he wheeled out of the way. They weren't demons.
"Glad to know you're still taking my advice," Eames said with an approving smile.
"It works," Bobby said with a shrug.
"What are you talking about?" Ariadne asked, confused.
"Holy water."
"We're not demons," she said. "We're trying to kill them."
"Good to know," Bobby said with a brisk nod. He turned to Eames. "So what name are you using this time around, Coyote?"
"Eames. I thought it sounded classy."
"And she is?" Bobby asked, eying Ariadne's clear eyes staring at him.
"My wife," Arthur replied stiffly. "Her name is Ariadne."
He nodded at them, accepting the introduction before turning back to Eames. "So you're helping the Campbells now?" Bobby asked. "I wasn't aware of the connection before."
"His bodyguard, after a fashion," Eames replied cheerfully as Arthur intoned "My own personal curse." Eames shook his head. "Arthur, really, that wasn't nice."
"It wasn't meant to be," Arthur replied.
"Honestly, you still can't hold all of those old stunts against me," he huffed, staring him down until he looked away in shame. "I think I've proven my usefulness and goodwill toward you and Ariadne plenty of times over by now."
Eames had, but Arthur was still wary of the trickster. He was afraid to trust him; the tides could turn and Eames would no longer care what happened to Arthur and Ariadne. Once that happened, he might think it would be hilarious to withdraw his protection. Arthur couldn't afford to trust someone so changeable, not when he still had Ariadne's safety to think about. And his cousins, truth be told. They could not be allowed to become Lucifer and Michael and could not be allowed to let the apocalypse happen.
Arthur didn't voice this concern. Instead, he looked at Bobby.
"You sent me word that Ellen and Jo are dead. We're here to help however we can." He eyed Eames and sighed. "I already know about the vessel situation. That absolutely can't happen."
Bobby blew out a breath. He seemed tired suddenly. "They're upstairs."
"We plan on helping however we can," Ariadne said without preamble. "You know we're not demons, and we're family to the brothers. So what can we do?"
Bobby gave her a long look before nodding. "Oh, yeah. She's a Campbell, all right." He gave Arthur a warm smile for the first time. "You did good, boy. C'mon to the kitchen then. And Eames, was it? I still have that grimoire you told me to keep. You plan on taking it back?"
"Not yet. Hang onto it."
Nodding, Bobby poured them all coffee and sat down at the table. "All right. We lost Ellen and Jo because of a ritual Lucifer was doing to set Death free from confinement."
"Death," Arthur echoed as Eames merely let out a sad sigh and looked down into his coffee. It was an odd reaction from the trickster, but Arthur let it go.
"And it worked," Bobby replied, shaking his head. "The entire plan was to shoot Lucifer with the Colt yesterday."
"Wait... You actually found it?" Ariadne blurted.
Arthur frowned as Bobby nodded. "So Lucifer's dead."
"No, he isn't," came a rough voice in the doorway. Ariadne and Arthur turned to face Dean Winchester's grim expression. "Fucker can't be killed with it, even though I shot him right in the middle of his damn head."
"We are so fucked, then," Arthur groaned.
"Yeah," Dean agreed, passing by the assemblage at the table to get a cup of coffee. "I can't sleep," he intoned to Bobby. He then turned to the rest of the assemblage. "Welcome to the apocalypse." After pouring himself a cup, he looked at Bobby before nodding in the direction of the other three. "So are these friends of yours?"
Bobby scowled at Dean, not sure what to say. Arthur had always insisted that the Winchester brother not be told that there was a surviving Campbell cousin; he had been convinced that there was a curse on the Campbell family which had led to every other member of his extended family dying horrible deaths. Arthur still wasn't entirely sold on the idea that it was simply a function of every Campbell being a hunter.
"I'm your cousin, Dean," Arthur said when Bobby didn't answer. "My name is Arthur Campbell, and I'm a third generation hunter like you."
Dean scowled. "Pretty damn convenient to have a cousin crawling out of the woodwork now, isn't it?"
"Don't be stupid, Dean," Bobby snapped irritably, banging his hand into the kitchen table. "I'm the one that told him about what happened yesterday."
"Did you think we were here for Thanksgiving dinner?" Arthur snapped irritably when Dean remained silent but his scowl deepened. As much as they were family, Arthur still didn't approve of Dean's tactics in the slightest.
"This is getting us nowhere," Ariadne said, interrupting whatever else Arthur was about to say. "We're all family in this room, right?"
"Maybe not him," Arthur intoned under his breath, eyeing Eames. The trickster rolled his eyes but only sipped at his own coffee.
"So why are you here?" Dean asked, anger suffusing his tone. "Why now?" Ariadne rather thought it was a hefty dose of self-recrimination, considering the fact that Lucifer was still very much alive and had succeeded in resurrecting Death from his confinement in Hell.
"Bobby called me," Arthur replied icily. "There aren't many hunters left that are taking the seals seriously. A lot of them out there that know about them gave up when the apocalypse started. But we're still trying to close whatever we find, just to make it harder for demons to come through however we can." His jaw was tight from tension, and he barely responded to Ariadne putting a gentle hand on his arm in support. "I don't like what I've heard about what your involvement was in all this, or what Sam did. But you're family, and I really don't have family left other than you two."
Dean narrowed his eyes at Arthur's pronouncement. "If you're so hot on stopping the apocalypse, why is this the first time I've ever met you?"
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to not go for his Glock. "What do you know about the Campbells, Dean?"
He frowned at Arthur. "Some uncle we never met took care of my mother's headstone. My grandparents were hunters. So what?"
"As far as I know, I'm the last one alive that carries the Campbell name. Everyone else in the family is dead." He took his hand away from his face. "Except for you two, but the angels are saving you both for later."
A muscle in Dean's jaw twitched. "Ain't gonna happen."
Arthur snorted. "They're angels and they can do whatever the fuck they want. It's only a matter of time before they make you do something."
"You've dealt with angels before, then?" Dean asked sarcastically. "Because I got one upstairs and he's not making me do shit I don't want to do." Not much, anyway.
"So you've got one angel in your corner," Arthur told him, voice icy and eyes clear and cold. It was the hard hunter's look, the one that Ariadne had seen on his face countless times during a job, and it sometimes chilled her to the bone to see it. "Do you know how many angels there are out there? How many walking around or are still up in heaven ready to warp reality around? How many that are just itching to make you fall into line?"
Eames looked discomfited by Arthur's words, and he abruptly got up from the table. "This is a war," he said in a low tone. "Both sides play dirty pool."
"You sound like you've dealt with them before," Dean remarked, sipping his coffee while giving Eames an assessing glance.
"Old ones and angels don't always get along," Eames replied evasively. "Well, the ancient Greeks knew how to throw a party," he corrected himself. He leaned against a counter and shrugged. "Deal with one angel, you've dealt with them all."
"Most angels are dicks," Dean replied.
"Yeah, well. There's a distinct lack of imagination and free will on their part. They toe the party line and don't think to question it. Or think, period."
"That sounds rather familiar," came a sleepy sounding voice from outside the kitchen. All heads turned to see a man in a dark, rumpled suit wearing a rumpled trench coat. His gaze landed on Eames and it suddenly sharpened. "You."
"I go by Eames currently," he said with a smooth smile. "Sounds rather posh, yes?"
"And you are what exactly?" Dean asked as the trench coat wearing man entered the kitchen. It was getting rather crowded, so the man was forced to nearly press himself into Dean's back. The hunter didn't exactly protest the move.
Eames smiled charmingly. "Coyote in the Midwest. Akbaatatdia is the Father, The One Who Has Made All Things. Lovely people, the Apsaalooke. They still know how to show respect for creatures that carry a spark of Creation within them."
The man in the trench coat glowered at him. "You are not-"
"My sister is dead. Or as good as," Eames told him shortly, jaw tight. There was an undercurrent between the two men, something that made Ariadne and Arthur look at Eames in concern. "So you don't get to tell me what I am or am not. Are we understood, Castiel?"
Straightening his shoulders slightly, the man shook out his trench coat. "Completely. Eames."
"Yes. Remember that."
"You shift skins often," Castiel commented.
A muscle in Eames' jaw ticked in annoyance. "Perhaps more than some, who carry the same form for millennia. I happen to enjoy changing faces from time to time."
"Are you boys done with your fucking pissing contest?" Ariadne said when Castiel was about to open his mouth. "This is wasting time. Lucifer is out there and he has Death, right? So what are we going to do about it? Because I for one would rather go down fighting than rolling over and just taking whatever that bastard has planned for us."
Dean blinked in surprise and respect. "Sam's probably gonna be down in a minute. He couldn't sleep either, not after what happened. Problem is, our best plan was to use the Colt. I didn't miss, but it can't kill him."
"There has to be something else, then," Arthur said, looking over at Bobby. "Anything in the old books? There's got to be a mention."
"He's an angel," Bobby said, frustration showing as he leaned back slightly. "Most of what I have refers to demons of different kinds, creatures, that sort of thing. It might not apply to Lucifer, since he was originally an angel."
"Then how do you kill an angel?"
All eyes swung toward Castiel at Ariadne's question. He was unperturbed by the various gazes on him. "There are very few ways to do this," he began in a serious tone. "Another angel could do it, or an angel's sword..."
"We know the Colt won't work," Arthur muttered.
"It won't work on Archangels," Castiel corrected. "It would destroy angels of lesser station in the Host of Heaven."
"There are other things, other weapons," Eames said in a soft tone. "There aren't many of them, but the power they hold..."
"I am not in possession of such weapons," Castiel told Eames in grave tones. "Though I am a soldier in the army of the Lord, I no longer carry a sword. The other Angelic weapons remain in Heaven where they belong."
"How do you know about these things?" Dean asked Eames, suspicion in his tone.
"I know a whole host of things I ought not to know. It's rather the point of being Coyote," Eames replied, though his gaze was on Castiel. The angel didn't look particularly disturbed, and merely gave a dismayed shake of his head. "Regardless, we need to stop Lucifer. The Apocalypse is upon us all, but we can stop it from reaching its conclusion."
"How do we do that?" Dean asked as Sam entered the kitchen, looking worse for wear.
"By making sure neither of you are assumed as vessels," Eames said.
Sam's look of surprise and wariness was almost comical. Or it would have been if the situation wasn't so dire and he didn't have a gun in hand pointed at Eames' head. "Who the hell are you?"
Eames sighed and lifted his hands dramatically to show that they were empty. "You know, I'd rather not mar this form if possible. I like this one, and it took forever to get here." He waited expectantly until Sam lowered the gun. "My thanks."
"So do you have a plan, or are you just going to talk at Lucifer all day?" Dean asked.
Eames looked over at Bobby with a sigh. "Best get that grimoire. Most of you lot can't read it, but it was never meant for human eyes."
Bobby wheeled out of the kitchen, grumbling under his breath about ungrateful tricksters and hardheaded Winchesters and Campbells. The kitchen was even more cramped now that Sam had arrived, so Eames snapped his fingers and the dimensions of the room seemed to expand without changing the structural integrity of the place. The table expanded as well, and there were now enough chairs for everyone to be seated. Giving everyone a pleased grin, Eames sat down beside Arthur and gestured magnanimously for the others to sit.
"This is an irregular use of your abilities," Castiel chided.
"I live for irregular," Eames replied sweetly. "Hence the concept of Coyote."
"Lucifer has raised Death from imprisonment, and this will spell doom for mankind." Castiel glowered at Eames. "Your machinations will backfire."
Bobby returned with a large leather bound book that contained parchment pages, symbols on its cover clearly Enochian script. All eyes swung from Bobby to Eames. The trickster figure shrugged and reached for the book. "I was hoping never to have to use this."
"What is it? That's angel writing," Dean said. Sam frowned at the cover, tracing the sigils with his gaze and recognizing one or two of them. His gaze flicked toward Arthur, Eames and Ariadne, suspicion in his eyes even if he didn't raise protest just yet.
"Well, many sacred things use this script," Eames replied, sadness in his tone. He ran his finger over the center sigil three times and the pages flew open as if a wind was gusting through the kitchen. Castiel glowered even further at Eames, who didn't bother to look up at him. "It's magic, of course. Very ancient magic, which means blood and death and sacrifice. Bindings, rituals, that sort of thing." He looked at Arthur with a pained expression. "I said I would help you, Arthur, and I will. I honor vows I make, which is why I never make them lightly. Please know that there is always a cost to using magicks like these."
Arthur frowned at the tone Eames was using. "What are you talking about?"
"Lucifer will likely know what I'm trying to do once I use any of the binding spells in this book and come after us. It may not work against an archangel, I'm not sure." He looked at the others grimly. "Someone will have to take the blame. Between the lot of us, Castiel and I would manage to last long enough to let the others get away."
"What? Explain that."
"Lucifer Morningstar is in possession of Death. It's only a matter of time before he has the other horsemen and truly brings the world to an end."
"Oh. That." Dean grinned at them suddenly. "I've already gotten one over on War and took his One Ring. Considering I don't know what the Mount Doom would be for the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, I still have it. Does that help?"
Eames grinned at Dean brightly. "Yes. Yes, it does. Now we just need to find Famine and Pestilence and take their rings. Lucifer has Death, but perhaps we can find Death and bind him from Lucifer's rituals. That would break his power, and we can try to turn it against him."
"This is too dangerous a plan," Castiel told him, shaking his head.
"What have we got to lose, Cas?" Sam asked, finally breaking his silence. By his body language, he clearly still didn't trust the Campbells or Eames. He was willing to listen, if only because Bobby trusted them. "We don't have much of a choice, do we? This is dangerous, but so is letting him take over my body."
"Not gonna happen," Dean growled.
"I'm with Sam on this one," Arthur said almost hesitantly, as if he didn't want to agree with Sam on anything. That didn't endear Sam to him at all. "We need to do whatever we can to stop him."
"It will be difficult to stop him. He was an Archangel, after all," Castiel warned them. "Though he has fallen, he still retains the powers and abilities of his station."
"Yeah. We saw that with the Colt. Thanks for saying something about that," Dean said, sarcasm heavy in his tone.
"He had trapped me against my will," Castiel replied in mild tones. "I was not able to warn you of his intent. As for the Colt, it is a weapon imbued with much power. I was not sure if it would equal the power inherent in an angel's sword. Apparently it does not, though there was always a chance that in his weakened state, Lucifer may have been killed with it."
"Weakened state?" Ariadne asked.
"He is not in his true vessel. While he can access many of his powers, they are limited in scope and are in the process of killing the vessel he is currently using. This is why he wishes to have Sam's cooperation." Castiel still had his unperturbed expression, even though Arthur and Ariadne looked at him in horror. Dean and Sam merely looked resigned.
"So we don't have any weapons that can kill him," Arthur asked. "Demon grade bullets and weaponry won't do a damn thing, since they're not as good as the Colt."
"Wait, you have demon grade stuff?" Dean asked, looking over at Arthur. "We'll still need it. He had plenty of demons and hellhounds working for him. That's how Ellen and Jo were killed."
Eames turned to a different page in the grimoire with a sigh. "What do you say, Cassie? A vision spell ought to help the mortals."
"Casting that kind of spell is beyond the scope of my knowledge. And it's forbidden, besides."
"You carved a seal into their very bones, Castiel. That's hardly approved for the rank and file of the army," Eames scoffed. "Besides, I'd do this with Mal, but she's dead."
Castiel glowered at Eames. "Is that certain?"
"Well, as good as for the purposes of this ritual. It requires two."
"So a trickster and an angel can do this kind of magic?" Arthur asked, looking at the grimoire with growing interest. He didn't recognize the symbols on any of the pages, but if it gave them an advantage against Lucifer, he was willing to trust that Eames could.
Castiel merely leveled a gaze at Eames. "He can perform these spells. There are any number of miracles and punishments he was able to mete."
"Flatterer," Eames said with a pleased smile. For some reason, Ariadne could tell that he wasn't actually pleased by Castiel's words. "Then again, there were bigger guns backing me up in the old days. I've been on my own for quite a while now."
"Your entire contingent has been derelict in your duties."
Eames actually leveled a glare at Castiel. "Your condescension, Castiel, is very much unappreciated. You have no idea about the circumstances you're referring to, and the party line is very much wrong about what happened. I have done my duty to the letter and beyond, but would have no part in the idiocy that followed. Since no one would accept a neutral party in the matter, we all saw fit to vacate the premises. That is all."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Arthur asked, looking between the two.
Eames rolled to his feet and shook his head at Arthur. "Ancient history, and nothing relevant to our current interests. I can get things ready for the binding spells for Death and Lucifer. First things first. I'll have to check the grimoire for necessary ingredients for the vision spell." He snatched up the book and turned his back on Castiel while giving Arthur and Ariadne brilliant smiles. "Do pardon me, darlings. Why don't you get acquainted with family?" he asked, though he left without waiting for an answer.
"What was that? I haven't seen him look that pissed off in ages," Ariadne asked, looking around the kitchen with an air of unease. It couldn't bode well to have an angry trickster in their midst.
"He will adhere to the word of his bond," Castiel told her. He looked over at Dean and laid a hand on his arm. "You need rest. You have not slept and your mind grows sluggish. I will assist you if necessary."
"Dude, you really need to work on your timing," Dean replied with a sigh. He finished off the last of his coffee and looked at the Campbells. "Listen. I didn't know about you guys. I don't remember Mom talking about family, really, and Dad never did."
Arthur nodded tightly, prior tension levels ratcheting up a notch. "Campbells seem to be cursed anyway, so I wouldn't blame her for putting distance between us." He gestured stiffly at the chair across from him and Ariadne. "Why don't we get acquainted, then? Make up for lost time, see why pandering to demons was a good idea."
Sam sat down without consulting Dean, jaw clenched. "I don't owe you any explanations."
"You started the apocalypse. Of course you do," Arthur snapped in reply.
Dean nodded slowly and then sat down as well. "All right. Sure. Family reunion from hell, maybe literally. Why the hell not?"
Bobby wheeled himself out and gave Castiel a look that clearly meant for the angel to leave them alone in the kitchen to sort out their differences. Castiel made his way into the backyard as a result, where Eames sat on the ground with the grimoire in his lap. The light of the moon cast blue tinted shadows everywhere, highlighting the deep hollows beneath Eames' eyes. "You have not told them what you are," Castiel said, censure in his tone. "Why is that?"
"I've told them what they need to know. Coyote is who I've been for millennia. The name Camael means nothing in this day and age."
Castiel stood next to Eames. "So what will you do?"
"I will protect them. First, it was because I was ordered to do so. But I do truly like them, so I've put my marks of protection on them." He looked up at Castiel. "Mine are much less invasive than yours, Castiel."
The angel wasn't perturbed by the accusation in the slightest. "It couldn't be obvious. That was the nature of the protection I've placed on them." Castiel paused and tilted his head slightly to contemplate Eames. "Who ordered the protection of the Campbells?"
"I did."
Castiel turned around as Eames sighed. The newcomer in the yard was a man of average height, with dark hair and golden brown eyes. He dressed casually in jeans, a dark shirt and a large olive colored jacket. Castiel looked at the man curiously for a moment. "Gabriel."
"Oh, look who finally figured it out." Gabriel approached, hands in his pockets. "Then again, you weren't a bright one. You followed orders really well, though."
"It is not my place to question," Castiel began in protest. He wasn't about to voice his doubts about the nature of his prior role to Gabriel. He still hadn't worked out what he did believe, or what he truly felt about the Winchester brothers, Dean in particular.
"You're starting to, though. There are doubts. There are fears. There's that nagging feeling that you're missing something important." Gabriel smiled grimly at Castiel's start of surprise. "Yeah. That's called thinking for yourself. Tends to happen after a while," he added with a shrug. "Humans got that part right." He walked closer, looking over at Eames. "Something is wrong. What is it?"
"They tried killing Lucifer yesterday. It didn't work."
Gabriel sighed. "The Colt won't work on Archangels," he told Eames. He came closer and looked at the grimoire in his hands. "Haven't seen that one in a very long time."
"Lucifer has hellhounds. They killed two of the Winchester allies," Castiel told Gabriel. There was an almost accusing note to his voice, as if he blamed the archangel for it.
"Did you really think killing him would be that easy?" Gabriel asked derisively. "He had millennia to plan his escape from the cage, to build up an army willing to sacrifice themselves for his cause, backup vessels…" Gabriel shook his head. "You're a soldier, Castiel, not a general. You wouldn't know how to plan ahead the way you'd need to in order to take him out. As good as Camael is, I wouldn't expect him to destroy Lucifer either."
"Backhanded compliment, that," Eames commented mildly, turning a page in the grimoire.
"Don't be a baby," Gabriel said, rolling his eyes. "Where's your sister? She's more levelheaded than you are most of the time."
"She's gone." Eames' curt tone brought Gabriel's sardonic smile short. "She told her children she had been merely dreaming and left. It's her way," he continued, running his finger along the Enochian script. "She's done it before. Not that you know that, of course. She might return in a few hundred years, but her children will be dust by then. If she even remembers them." He looked up, expression carefully blank. "She followed you here to avoid the war. But she's like Castiel there. She needs orders. She needs purpose. Simply hiding was never enough."
"She had her orders."
Eames shook his head. "Mal needed more than a phrase, more than the thought that this world isn't the one she came from. She can't handle large doses of humanity, Gabriel. She needs to resume her angelic form." His gaze was hollow as he looked back at the grimoire. He continued to use her human name rather than her angelic one, as if that could make it hurt less. "I change shapes and faces. I shift and take on new names and identities. That's how I cope. Mal can't do that, and so she completely fractures apart."
Gabriel seemed somewhat chastened. "I'm sorry, Camael. I didn't know."
"I know. She never told you. She simply disappeared or reappeared when you needed her." He looked up again, a crooked smile on his lips. "She enjoyed destroying Sodom and Gomorrah. It was one of her more creative ways of fulfilling orders, I think. First and foremost, Mal was always an artist."
"You're going to do a vision spell," Gabriel said, pointing to the grimoire rather than apologize again. He frowned when Eames nodded. "Seeing the hellhounds won't give them an advantage if Lucifer sets them on the hunters."
"Those are the heirs and the ones that will create the spares. I don't think he'd willingly destroy them," Eames replied, rolling to his feet smoothly. "But I wouldn't want to take that chance. They should see what they're up against. It will give them a head start, and more of a fighting chance than the Harvelles had."
Gabriel blew out a breath. "Was Castiel going to help you?"
"Yes. Mal is gone, after all."
The archangel nodded. "I'll watch over you and hide the spell signs, then."
Eames nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Gabriel."
"When we go inside, we'll have to plan several avenues of attack. Simply shooting or stabbing Lucifer won't be enough. He's too smart for that."
Eames merely smiled. "Well, if two tricksters, an AWOL angel and five hunters can't come up with something, the world is doomed."
***
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To Chapter Four - Splitting The Party
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17 for language, violence and sex.
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur(/Eames)
Disclaimer: Inception characters belong to Christopher Nolan. Supernatural characters belong to Kripke. I own nothing but the actual plot to this, and even that is up to debate. :)
Spoilers/Warnings: Inception AU fusion with Supernatural. This is also an AU of Supernatural, diverging from canon in season five and begins in November 2009.
For the inception_kink meme prompt in round 11: Arthur Campbell was born and raised as a hunter, since hunting is the ‘family business’. He ran for his life for years, since all relatives of Mary Campbell were persecuted and killed, so he doesn't know much about Sam and Dean except they are family.
Author's Note: This is the third attempt at filling this prompt. I first snagged it in November 2010, IIRC, and had to scrap that first attempt at it. Then I had to scrap my second attempt in December 2010. I then left this alone for all of 2011. Sorry it took me so long OP! I had to brush up on canon and completely rework the plot AGAIN to make this work. Hopefully it works this time. :)
The scene with Famine contains dialogue lifted directly from the episode, as was part of the scene with Death.
Summary: Arthur Campbell never approved of his Winchester cousins using demonic help to take down other demons. When other hunters are killed while helping them stop Lucifer, he calls on supernatural aid of his own to help them.
Big Bang art located here!
Previous chapters:
One - Red On The Inside
Two - We Raise A Fever
Three - All To See Here
Eames driving that afternoon was nearly impossible to track. That didn't stop them from trying, which was an exercise in futility; neither Ariadne nor Arthur could figure out where they were. The road wasn't on any map, the bugs looked positively prehistoric and the desert around them looked like nothing either had seen of the midwest. If either of them had to guess, Eames was taking them between, which was all but impossible for mortals to survive without going insane. Of course, they were under his protection and not foolish enough to tumble from the SUV while he was driving, but it was still unnerving to contemplate. Ariadne threaded her fingers through Arthur's and tried not to shiver at the thought of being lost between for eternity. It would pass in a moment or drag out until her bones were dust, depending on the eddy of magical current she was caught on. Hunters whispered about the Second Worlders and the places they had come from; no matter what names the hunters used, it all boiled down to the same thing: no one survived prolonged exposure to the weird and wacky that made up the Second World.
Eames threw his hand behind him, unerringly landing on their tangled hands. "There, now. This is a short cut, is all. Welcome to South Dakota. There's still some Creation left in me, after all." He turned his head to look at them and winked slyly, then slowed. Outside of the SUV, it almost looked like they had come out into real space again, with roads that looked like roads again. Sunset had already passed, and the sky was darkening as they pulled into the parking lot of Singer Auto Self Service Salvage Yard. It looked run down, and Ariadne missed Cobb's guest room already.
Striding confidently to the front door of the house, Eames knocked on the door. He scoffed at Arthur's low "He's not going to answer you," and merely knocked in a more commanding way, grinning at the fish eye lens in the door. "Oi! Bobby! Open up."
The door opened a crack, door chain in place. Bobby eyed him warily, looking up at them from his wheelchair, hands hidden behind the door. Arthur was convinced he had a 12 gauge shotgun aimed at them. "Who the fuck are you?"
"I've sometimes been known as Coyote and this is Arthur Campbell," Eames said, not looking perturbed in the slightest. Something ticked in Bobby's jaw at the name Coyote, but there was only mistrust in his eyes, not the all consuming anger that had been in Arthur's. Then again, Eames hadn't fucked with his head one time too many.
Ariadne merely linked her hand with Arthur's, lending him some of her quiet strength. She watched Bobby shut the door far enough to slide back the chain. He didn't invite them in yet, merely poured out water for the three of them from a pitcher by the door.
Bobby stared at them all as they drank, unperturbed. It had been years since he had seen Arthur Campbell last, but that didn't mean he would automatically trust him. Especially not now. He didn't even flick his eyes up at the demon trap painted above the entrance way to his home. None of the three were screaming in terror or pain, and all three could progress into his living room without getting stuck once he wheeled out of the way. They weren't demons.
"Glad to know you're still taking my advice," Eames said with an approving smile.
"It works," Bobby said with a shrug.
"What are you talking about?" Ariadne asked, confused.
"Holy water."
"We're not demons," she said. "We're trying to kill them."
"Good to know," Bobby said with a brisk nod. He turned to Eames. "So what name are you using this time around, Coyote?"
"Eames. I thought it sounded classy."
"And she is?" Bobby asked, eying Ariadne's clear eyes staring at him.
"My wife," Arthur replied stiffly. "Her name is Ariadne."
He nodded at them, accepting the introduction before turning back to Eames. "So you're helping the Campbells now?" Bobby asked. "I wasn't aware of the connection before."
"His bodyguard, after a fashion," Eames replied cheerfully as Arthur intoned "My own personal curse." Eames shook his head. "Arthur, really, that wasn't nice."
"It wasn't meant to be," Arthur replied.
"Honestly, you still can't hold all of those old stunts against me," he huffed, staring him down until he looked away in shame. "I think I've proven my usefulness and goodwill toward you and Ariadne plenty of times over by now."
Eames had, but Arthur was still wary of the trickster. He was afraid to trust him; the tides could turn and Eames would no longer care what happened to Arthur and Ariadne. Once that happened, he might think it would be hilarious to withdraw his protection. Arthur couldn't afford to trust someone so changeable, not when he still had Ariadne's safety to think about. And his cousins, truth be told. They could not be allowed to become Lucifer and Michael and could not be allowed to let the apocalypse happen.
Arthur didn't voice this concern. Instead, he looked at Bobby.
"You sent me word that Ellen and Jo are dead. We're here to help however we can." He eyed Eames and sighed. "I already know about the vessel situation. That absolutely can't happen."
Bobby blew out a breath. He seemed tired suddenly. "They're upstairs."
"We plan on helping however we can," Ariadne said without preamble. "You know we're not demons, and we're family to the brothers. So what can we do?"
Bobby gave her a long look before nodding. "Oh, yeah. She's a Campbell, all right." He gave Arthur a warm smile for the first time. "You did good, boy. C'mon to the kitchen then. And Eames, was it? I still have that grimoire you told me to keep. You plan on taking it back?"
"Not yet. Hang onto it."
Nodding, Bobby poured them all coffee and sat down at the table. "All right. We lost Ellen and Jo because of a ritual Lucifer was doing to set Death free from confinement."
"Death," Arthur echoed as Eames merely let out a sad sigh and looked down into his coffee. It was an odd reaction from the trickster, but Arthur let it go.
"And it worked," Bobby replied, shaking his head. "The entire plan was to shoot Lucifer with the Colt yesterday."
"Wait... You actually found it?" Ariadne blurted.
Arthur frowned as Bobby nodded. "So Lucifer's dead."
"No, he isn't," came a rough voice in the doorway. Ariadne and Arthur turned to face Dean Winchester's grim expression. "Fucker can't be killed with it, even though I shot him right in the middle of his damn head."
"We are so fucked, then," Arthur groaned.
"Yeah," Dean agreed, passing by the assemblage at the table to get a cup of coffee. "I can't sleep," he intoned to Bobby. He then turned to the rest of the assemblage. "Welcome to the apocalypse." After pouring himself a cup, he looked at Bobby before nodding in the direction of the other three. "So are these friends of yours?"
Bobby scowled at Dean, not sure what to say. Arthur had always insisted that the Winchester brother not be told that there was a surviving Campbell cousin; he had been convinced that there was a curse on the Campbell family which had led to every other member of his extended family dying horrible deaths. Arthur still wasn't entirely sold on the idea that it was simply a function of every Campbell being a hunter.
"I'm your cousin, Dean," Arthur said when Bobby didn't answer. "My name is Arthur Campbell, and I'm a third generation hunter like you."
Dean scowled. "Pretty damn convenient to have a cousin crawling out of the woodwork now, isn't it?"
"Don't be stupid, Dean," Bobby snapped irritably, banging his hand into the kitchen table. "I'm the one that told him about what happened yesterday."
"Did you think we were here for Thanksgiving dinner?" Arthur snapped irritably when Dean remained silent but his scowl deepened. As much as they were family, Arthur still didn't approve of Dean's tactics in the slightest.
"This is getting us nowhere," Ariadne said, interrupting whatever else Arthur was about to say. "We're all family in this room, right?"
"Maybe not him," Arthur intoned under his breath, eyeing Eames. The trickster rolled his eyes but only sipped at his own coffee.
"So why are you here?" Dean asked, anger suffusing his tone. "Why now?" Ariadne rather thought it was a hefty dose of self-recrimination, considering the fact that Lucifer was still very much alive and had succeeded in resurrecting Death from his confinement in Hell.
"Bobby called me," Arthur replied icily. "There aren't many hunters left that are taking the seals seriously. A lot of them out there that know about them gave up when the apocalypse started. But we're still trying to close whatever we find, just to make it harder for demons to come through however we can." His jaw was tight from tension, and he barely responded to Ariadne putting a gentle hand on his arm in support. "I don't like what I've heard about what your involvement was in all this, or what Sam did. But you're family, and I really don't have family left other than you two."
Dean narrowed his eyes at Arthur's pronouncement. "If you're so hot on stopping the apocalypse, why is this the first time I've ever met you?"
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to not go for his Glock. "What do you know about the Campbells, Dean?"
He frowned at Arthur. "Some uncle we never met took care of my mother's headstone. My grandparents were hunters. So what?"
"As far as I know, I'm the last one alive that carries the Campbell name. Everyone else in the family is dead." He took his hand away from his face. "Except for you two, but the angels are saving you both for later."
A muscle in Dean's jaw twitched. "Ain't gonna happen."
Arthur snorted. "They're angels and they can do whatever the fuck they want. It's only a matter of time before they make you do something."
"You've dealt with angels before, then?" Dean asked sarcastically. "Because I got one upstairs and he's not making me do shit I don't want to do." Not much, anyway.
"So you've got one angel in your corner," Arthur told him, voice icy and eyes clear and cold. It was the hard hunter's look, the one that Ariadne had seen on his face countless times during a job, and it sometimes chilled her to the bone to see it. "Do you know how many angels there are out there? How many walking around or are still up in heaven ready to warp reality around? How many that are just itching to make you fall into line?"
Eames looked discomfited by Arthur's words, and he abruptly got up from the table. "This is a war," he said in a low tone. "Both sides play dirty pool."
"You sound like you've dealt with them before," Dean remarked, sipping his coffee while giving Eames an assessing glance.
"Old ones and angels don't always get along," Eames replied evasively. "Well, the ancient Greeks knew how to throw a party," he corrected himself. He leaned against a counter and shrugged. "Deal with one angel, you've dealt with them all."
"Most angels are dicks," Dean replied.
"Yeah, well. There's a distinct lack of imagination and free will on their part. They toe the party line and don't think to question it. Or think, period."
"That sounds rather familiar," came a sleepy sounding voice from outside the kitchen. All heads turned to see a man in a dark, rumpled suit wearing a rumpled trench coat. His gaze landed on Eames and it suddenly sharpened. "You."
"I go by Eames currently," he said with a smooth smile. "Sounds rather posh, yes?"
"And you are what exactly?" Dean asked as the trench coat wearing man entered the kitchen. It was getting rather crowded, so the man was forced to nearly press himself into Dean's back. The hunter didn't exactly protest the move.
Eames smiled charmingly. "Coyote in the Midwest. Akbaatatdia is the Father, The One Who Has Made All Things. Lovely people, the Apsaalooke. They still know how to show respect for creatures that carry a spark of Creation within them."
The man in the trench coat glowered at him. "You are not-"
"My sister is dead. Or as good as," Eames told him shortly, jaw tight. There was an undercurrent between the two men, something that made Ariadne and Arthur look at Eames in concern. "So you don't get to tell me what I am or am not. Are we understood, Castiel?"
Straightening his shoulders slightly, the man shook out his trench coat. "Completely. Eames."
"Yes. Remember that."
"You shift skins often," Castiel commented.
A muscle in Eames' jaw ticked in annoyance. "Perhaps more than some, who carry the same form for millennia. I happen to enjoy changing faces from time to time."
"Are you boys done with your fucking pissing contest?" Ariadne said when Castiel was about to open his mouth. "This is wasting time. Lucifer is out there and he has Death, right? So what are we going to do about it? Because I for one would rather go down fighting than rolling over and just taking whatever that bastard has planned for us."
Dean blinked in surprise and respect. "Sam's probably gonna be down in a minute. He couldn't sleep either, not after what happened. Problem is, our best plan was to use the Colt. I didn't miss, but it can't kill him."
"There has to be something else, then," Arthur said, looking over at Bobby. "Anything in the old books? There's got to be a mention."
"He's an angel," Bobby said, frustration showing as he leaned back slightly. "Most of what I have refers to demons of different kinds, creatures, that sort of thing. It might not apply to Lucifer, since he was originally an angel."
"Then how do you kill an angel?"
All eyes swung toward Castiel at Ariadne's question. He was unperturbed by the various gazes on him. "There are very few ways to do this," he began in a serious tone. "Another angel could do it, or an angel's sword..."
"We know the Colt won't work," Arthur muttered.
"It won't work on Archangels," Castiel corrected. "It would destroy angels of lesser station in the Host of Heaven."
"There are other things, other weapons," Eames said in a soft tone. "There aren't many of them, but the power they hold..."
"I am not in possession of such weapons," Castiel told Eames in grave tones. "Though I am a soldier in the army of the Lord, I no longer carry a sword. The other Angelic weapons remain in Heaven where they belong."
"How do you know about these things?" Dean asked Eames, suspicion in his tone.
"I know a whole host of things I ought not to know. It's rather the point of being Coyote," Eames replied, though his gaze was on Castiel. The angel didn't look particularly disturbed, and merely gave a dismayed shake of his head. "Regardless, we need to stop Lucifer. The Apocalypse is upon us all, but we can stop it from reaching its conclusion."
"How do we do that?" Dean asked as Sam entered the kitchen, looking worse for wear.
"By making sure neither of you are assumed as vessels," Eames said.
Sam's look of surprise and wariness was almost comical. Or it would have been if the situation wasn't so dire and he didn't have a gun in hand pointed at Eames' head. "Who the hell are you?"
Eames sighed and lifted his hands dramatically to show that they were empty. "You know, I'd rather not mar this form if possible. I like this one, and it took forever to get here." He waited expectantly until Sam lowered the gun. "My thanks."
"So do you have a plan, or are you just going to talk at Lucifer all day?" Dean asked.
Eames looked over at Bobby with a sigh. "Best get that grimoire. Most of you lot can't read it, but it was never meant for human eyes."
Bobby wheeled out of the kitchen, grumbling under his breath about ungrateful tricksters and hardheaded Winchesters and Campbells. The kitchen was even more cramped now that Sam had arrived, so Eames snapped his fingers and the dimensions of the room seemed to expand without changing the structural integrity of the place. The table expanded as well, and there were now enough chairs for everyone to be seated. Giving everyone a pleased grin, Eames sat down beside Arthur and gestured magnanimously for the others to sit.
"This is an irregular use of your abilities," Castiel chided.
"I live for irregular," Eames replied sweetly. "Hence the concept of Coyote."
"Lucifer has raised Death from imprisonment, and this will spell doom for mankind." Castiel glowered at Eames. "Your machinations will backfire."
Bobby returned with a large leather bound book that contained parchment pages, symbols on its cover clearly Enochian script. All eyes swung from Bobby to Eames. The trickster figure shrugged and reached for the book. "I was hoping never to have to use this."
"What is it? That's angel writing," Dean said. Sam frowned at the cover, tracing the sigils with his gaze and recognizing one or two of them. His gaze flicked toward Arthur, Eames and Ariadne, suspicion in his eyes even if he didn't raise protest just yet.
"Well, many sacred things use this script," Eames replied, sadness in his tone. He ran his finger over the center sigil three times and the pages flew open as if a wind was gusting through the kitchen. Castiel glowered even further at Eames, who didn't bother to look up at him. "It's magic, of course. Very ancient magic, which means blood and death and sacrifice. Bindings, rituals, that sort of thing." He looked at Arthur with a pained expression. "I said I would help you, Arthur, and I will. I honor vows I make, which is why I never make them lightly. Please know that there is always a cost to using magicks like these."
Arthur frowned at the tone Eames was using. "What are you talking about?"
"Lucifer will likely know what I'm trying to do once I use any of the binding spells in this book and come after us. It may not work against an archangel, I'm not sure." He looked at the others grimly. "Someone will have to take the blame. Between the lot of us, Castiel and I would manage to last long enough to let the others get away."
"What? Explain that."
"Lucifer Morningstar is in possession of Death. It's only a matter of time before he has the other horsemen and truly brings the world to an end."
"Oh. That." Dean grinned at them suddenly. "I've already gotten one over on War and took his One Ring. Considering I don't know what the Mount Doom would be for the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, I still have it. Does that help?"
Eames grinned at Dean brightly. "Yes. Yes, it does. Now we just need to find Famine and Pestilence and take their rings. Lucifer has Death, but perhaps we can find Death and bind him from Lucifer's rituals. That would break his power, and we can try to turn it against him."
"This is too dangerous a plan," Castiel told him, shaking his head.
"What have we got to lose, Cas?" Sam asked, finally breaking his silence. By his body language, he clearly still didn't trust the Campbells or Eames. He was willing to listen, if only because Bobby trusted them. "We don't have much of a choice, do we? This is dangerous, but so is letting him take over my body."
"Not gonna happen," Dean growled.
"I'm with Sam on this one," Arthur said almost hesitantly, as if he didn't want to agree with Sam on anything. That didn't endear Sam to him at all. "We need to do whatever we can to stop him."
"It will be difficult to stop him. He was an Archangel, after all," Castiel warned them. "Though he has fallen, he still retains the powers and abilities of his station."
"Yeah. We saw that with the Colt. Thanks for saying something about that," Dean said, sarcasm heavy in his tone.
"He had trapped me against my will," Castiel replied in mild tones. "I was not able to warn you of his intent. As for the Colt, it is a weapon imbued with much power. I was not sure if it would equal the power inherent in an angel's sword. Apparently it does not, though there was always a chance that in his weakened state, Lucifer may have been killed with it."
"Weakened state?" Ariadne asked.
"He is not in his true vessel. While he can access many of his powers, they are limited in scope and are in the process of killing the vessel he is currently using. This is why he wishes to have Sam's cooperation." Castiel still had his unperturbed expression, even though Arthur and Ariadne looked at him in horror. Dean and Sam merely looked resigned.
"So we don't have any weapons that can kill him," Arthur asked. "Demon grade bullets and weaponry won't do a damn thing, since they're not as good as the Colt."
"Wait, you have demon grade stuff?" Dean asked, looking over at Arthur. "We'll still need it. He had plenty of demons and hellhounds working for him. That's how Ellen and Jo were killed."
Eames turned to a different page in the grimoire with a sigh. "What do you say, Cassie? A vision spell ought to help the mortals."
"Casting that kind of spell is beyond the scope of my knowledge. And it's forbidden, besides."
"You carved a seal into their very bones, Castiel. That's hardly approved for the rank and file of the army," Eames scoffed. "Besides, I'd do this with Mal, but she's dead."
Castiel glowered at Eames. "Is that certain?"
"Well, as good as for the purposes of this ritual. It requires two."
"So a trickster and an angel can do this kind of magic?" Arthur asked, looking at the grimoire with growing interest. He didn't recognize the symbols on any of the pages, but if it gave them an advantage against Lucifer, he was willing to trust that Eames could.
Castiel merely leveled a gaze at Eames. "He can perform these spells. There are any number of miracles and punishments he was able to mete."
"Flatterer," Eames said with a pleased smile. For some reason, Ariadne could tell that he wasn't actually pleased by Castiel's words. "Then again, there were bigger guns backing me up in the old days. I've been on my own for quite a while now."
"Your entire contingent has been derelict in your duties."
Eames actually leveled a glare at Castiel. "Your condescension, Castiel, is very much unappreciated. You have no idea about the circumstances you're referring to, and the party line is very much wrong about what happened. I have done my duty to the letter and beyond, but would have no part in the idiocy that followed. Since no one would accept a neutral party in the matter, we all saw fit to vacate the premises. That is all."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Arthur asked, looking between the two.
Eames rolled to his feet and shook his head at Arthur. "Ancient history, and nothing relevant to our current interests. I can get things ready for the binding spells for Death and Lucifer. First things first. I'll have to check the grimoire for necessary ingredients for the vision spell." He snatched up the book and turned his back on Castiel while giving Arthur and Ariadne brilliant smiles. "Do pardon me, darlings. Why don't you get acquainted with family?" he asked, though he left without waiting for an answer.
"What was that? I haven't seen him look that pissed off in ages," Ariadne asked, looking around the kitchen with an air of unease. It couldn't bode well to have an angry trickster in their midst.
"He will adhere to the word of his bond," Castiel told her. He looked over at Dean and laid a hand on his arm. "You need rest. You have not slept and your mind grows sluggish. I will assist you if necessary."
"Dude, you really need to work on your timing," Dean replied with a sigh. He finished off the last of his coffee and looked at the Campbells. "Listen. I didn't know about you guys. I don't remember Mom talking about family, really, and Dad never did."
Arthur nodded tightly, prior tension levels ratcheting up a notch. "Campbells seem to be cursed anyway, so I wouldn't blame her for putting distance between us." He gestured stiffly at the chair across from him and Ariadne. "Why don't we get acquainted, then? Make up for lost time, see why pandering to demons was a good idea."
Sam sat down without consulting Dean, jaw clenched. "I don't owe you any explanations."
"You started the apocalypse. Of course you do," Arthur snapped in reply.
Dean nodded slowly and then sat down as well. "All right. Sure. Family reunion from hell, maybe literally. Why the hell not?"
Bobby wheeled himself out and gave Castiel a look that clearly meant for the angel to leave them alone in the kitchen to sort out their differences. Castiel made his way into the backyard as a result, where Eames sat on the ground with the grimoire in his lap. The light of the moon cast blue tinted shadows everywhere, highlighting the deep hollows beneath Eames' eyes. "You have not told them what you are," Castiel said, censure in his tone. "Why is that?"
"I've told them what they need to know. Coyote is who I've been for millennia. The name Camael means nothing in this day and age."
Castiel stood next to Eames. "So what will you do?"
"I will protect them. First, it was because I was ordered to do so. But I do truly like them, so I've put my marks of protection on them." He looked up at Castiel. "Mine are much less invasive than yours, Castiel."
The angel wasn't perturbed by the accusation in the slightest. "It couldn't be obvious. That was the nature of the protection I've placed on them." Castiel paused and tilted his head slightly to contemplate Eames. "Who ordered the protection of the Campbells?"
"I did."
Castiel turned around as Eames sighed. The newcomer in the yard was a man of average height, with dark hair and golden brown eyes. He dressed casually in jeans, a dark shirt and a large olive colored jacket. Castiel looked at the man curiously for a moment. "Gabriel."
"Oh, look who finally figured it out." Gabriel approached, hands in his pockets. "Then again, you weren't a bright one. You followed orders really well, though."
"It is not my place to question," Castiel began in protest. He wasn't about to voice his doubts about the nature of his prior role to Gabriel. He still hadn't worked out what he did believe, or what he truly felt about the Winchester brothers, Dean in particular.
"You're starting to, though. There are doubts. There are fears. There's that nagging feeling that you're missing something important." Gabriel smiled grimly at Castiel's start of surprise. "Yeah. That's called thinking for yourself. Tends to happen after a while," he added with a shrug. "Humans got that part right." He walked closer, looking over at Eames. "Something is wrong. What is it?"
"They tried killing Lucifer yesterday. It didn't work."
Gabriel sighed. "The Colt won't work on Archangels," he told Eames. He came closer and looked at the grimoire in his hands. "Haven't seen that one in a very long time."
"Lucifer has hellhounds. They killed two of the Winchester allies," Castiel told Gabriel. There was an almost accusing note to his voice, as if he blamed the archangel for it.
"Did you really think killing him would be that easy?" Gabriel asked derisively. "He had millennia to plan his escape from the cage, to build up an army willing to sacrifice themselves for his cause, backup vessels…" Gabriel shook his head. "You're a soldier, Castiel, not a general. You wouldn't know how to plan ahead the way you'd need to in order to take him out. As good as Camael is, I wouldn't expect him to destroy Lucifer either."
"Backhanded compliment, that," Eames commented mildly, turning a page in the grimoire.
"Don't be a baby," Gabriel said, rolling his eyes. "Where's your sister? She's more levelheaded than you are most of the time."
"She's gone." Eames' curt tone brought Gabriel's sardonic smile short. "She told her children she had been merely dreaming and left. It's her way," he continued, running his finger along the Enochian script. "She's done it before. Not that you know that, of course. She might return in a few hundred years, but her children will be dust by then. If she even remembers them." He looked up, expression carefully blank. "She followed you here to avoid the war. But she's like Castiel there. She needs orders. She needs purpose. Simply hiding was never enough."
"She had her orders."
Eames shook his head. "Mal needed more than a phrase, more than the thought that this world isn't the one she came from. She can't handle large doses of humanity, Gabriel. She needs to resume her angelic form." His gaze was hollow as he looked back at the grimoire. He continued to use her human name rather than her angelic one, as if that could make it hurt less. "I change shapes and faces. I shift and take on new names and identities. That's how I cope. Mal can't do that, and so she completely fractures apart."
Gabriel seemed somewhat chastened. "I'm sorry, Camael. I didn't know."
"I know. She never told you. She simply disappeared or reappeared when you needed her." He looked up again, a crooked smile on his lips. "She enjoyed destroying Sodom and Gomorrah. It was one of her more creative ways of fulfilling orders, I think. First and foremost, Mal was always an artist."
"You're going to do a vision spell," Gabriel said, pointing to the grimoire rather than apologize again. He frowned when Eames nodded. "Seeing the hellhounds won't give them an advantage if Lucifer sets them on the hunters."
"Those are the heirs and the ones that will create the spares. I don't think he'd willingly destroy them," Eames replied, rolling to his feet smoothly. "But I wouldn't want to take that chance. They should see what they're up against. It will give them a head start, and more of a fighting chance than the Harvelles had."
Gabriel blew out a breath. "Was Castiel going to help you?"
"Yes. Mal is gone, after all."
The archangel nodded. "I'll watch over you and hide the spell signs, then."
Eames nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Gabriel."
"When we go inside, we'll have to plan several avenues of attack. Simply shooting or stabbing Lucifer won't be enough. He's too smart for that."
Eames merely smiled. "Well, if two tricksters, an AWOL angel and five hunters can't come up with something, the world is doomed."
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To Chapter Four - Splitting The Party