Fire In Your New Shoes, 4/6. 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
Four - Splitting The Party
"Okay," Dean began, blinking rapidly. The salve part of the Enochian spell irritated his eyes something fierce, but he was going to follow directions for once. Castiel said the salve had to remain coating his eyes for ten minutes after the chanting ended. "So, short of calling on an actual hellhound to rip us all to shreds, how can we test if this works?"
"Doubting my skill?" Eames asked archly. "I'm hurt, Dean."
"Dude, seeing is believing."
"Certainly so," he agreed. He looked over at Arthur and Ariadne, who had their hands linked together to help refrain from rubbing at their eyes. Dean had one hand occasionally reaching toward Castiel, the other gripping his thigh tight. Sam merely kept his eyes squeezed shut as he literally sat on his hands. Bobby merely glared at everyone in the room in turns.
Gabriel leaned against the kitchen counter and paged through the grimoire idly. "It wouldn't be necessary to have a hellhound," he said, running his finger over the symbols. He looked up with his trademark smirk. "Well, not one from hell, anyway. I could conjure one up..."
"And would that actually be the same?" Dean asked, disbelief evident.
"It's not like we have much of a choice," Sam countered before Gabriel could speak.
"Tricksters are good at illusions and conjuring," Arthur informed them, voice sharp. "And if they're helping us, it's not in their best interest to fuck us over on this point."
Gabriel pointed to Arthur with an open hand, an expectant look on his face. "See? See? At least one of you mortals has sense."
Eames looked up from the design he was painting on the kitchen floor in chocolate syrup. "And let it be known that said mortal is mine."
"Eames..." Arthur began in a warning smile. Eames easily dodged Ariadne's booted kick as she snapped "No, he's mine."
"Ah, ah, ah…" Eames taunted, wagging a finger on them. "We're not quite done yet. Keep the violence to a minimum, yes?"
"Ass," Arthur growled.
"Tricksters and angels are both dicks," Dean declared, making Gabriel snort in amusement. "I notice you don't deny that," he said, looking over at Gabriel. Five more minutes, then the last of the spell could be laid and he could rub at his eyes. He might have grabbed Castiel's sleeve to distract himself, but the angel didn't mind it in the least.
"What? It's true. Present company excepted, of course," Gabriel replied. He flipped through another few pages of the book. "Imagine conforming to the same exact rules for millennia, never getting confirmation you're doing a good job, never getting a vacation, no breaks for your sanity. Is it any wonder angels are a dour bunch?"
"Is that why you went AWOL?" Ariadne asked, looking over at Gabriel.
"I had my reasons," he replied. "It wasn't the only one."
"Don't fallen angels become demons?" she asked him.
"When Anna ripped out her grace, she became human," Sam told Ariadne. "So it depends how they fall."
"Demons were human once," Dean said abruptly. "Ruby told me that," he explained when Sam shot him an incredulous look. "She was a witch, then became a lying ho-bag demon."
"So comforted by that piece of information," Ariadne said dryly.
Gabriel shut the grimoire with a snap as Eames finished the design on the kitchen floor. The hunters all jerked in their seats, but he didn't seem amused in the slightest. "I'll summon a test subject. I'll be able to contain it," he added sourly when Eames shot him an alarmed look. "One of Iaoel's best tricks."
Eames' hands tightened into fists and his jaw clenched as he stared at Gabriel silently. He jerked when Ariadne touched his shoulder in concern, then forcibly calmed himself and flashed Arthur a patently false smile. "Let's begin."
It was as if Gabriel ripped apart time and space, creating a fissure in the air in front of him. He reached through it and after a moment pulled his hand back. In his fist was a snarling puppy with long, curling fangs and paws that ended in razor sharp claws. Dean recoiled in recognition, and all of the others looked at him. "Fuck," he whispered, eyes wide as he saw the writhing creature caught in Gabriel's fist. "I can see that. In colors, even."
Nodding as though that was what he expected, Gabriel thrust the puppy back through the shimmering fissure and then sealed it shut with a flick of his wrist. "Vision spell works just fine, then. You can take the salve off now. It's set."
"What's the chocolate on the floor for, then?" Bobby demanded, rubbing at his eyes.
"Protection spell," Eames replied. "Different one," he told Ariadne and Arthur when they opened their mouths. "And a very different one than what he used," he told Sam and Dean with a nod at Castiel. The angel shrugged when the Winchester brothers looked to him in silent question at what Eames meant. "Not a fan of bone carving, personally. Far too messy."
"I rather thought it was neater this way," Castiel replied. "It's not as visible to outsiders."
"You protected yours from angels, I protected mine from the old gods," Eames said, though he was getting visibly irritated. "Neither of you are thinking past locking Lucifer back in the cage or killing him, are you? Should the mortals survive, it would be best if the next generation was hidden from both sides." He leveled a steady glare at Castiel and Gabriel. "Anything else you wanted to say, angel?"
Castiel looked at Eames with his usual mild expression. "As you've said, I'm a soldier."
"What's at stake in this pissing contest?" Dean asked.
"Nothing important," Gabriel said, dropping the grimoire loudly in the center of the enlarged kitchen table. "Let the big kids worry about that shit, boys." He turned and quirked a smile at Ariadne. "Girl."
"Glad your eyes work," she answered dryly. "I was starting to wonder."
"Oooh, play nice," he teased. Gabriel flicked a glance at Eames, then looked at Castiel. "That's taken care of, so you need to start tracking down Famine and Pestilence. We're going to need those rings, just in case. I'd rather have a backup plan for this."
"You don't think we can kill him, do you?" Arthur asked, no inflection in his tone.
"I'd rather be prepared for anything. Lucifer is old and had millennia to plan his escape. He can afford to take the long view. You don't have as long to wait."
"What weapons do we have that will kill him, then?" Arthur pressed. "The Colt didn't work, we don't have an Angel Sword."
"I'm working on it," Gabriel replied as Eames started a low hum deep in his throat. With a sigh, he looked at Castiel. "Take counterpoint, will you? It's a spell that works best with two."
"Why won't you help?" Castiel asked.
"Places to go, people to trick," Gabriel replied flippantly. Before anyone could say anything else, he snapped his fingers and simply vanished.
"Angels are such dicks," Dean muttered.
"Indeed," Castiel answered with a mild shake of his head. "We will complete the ritual, then you are all off to bed. You need rest."
Bobby let them all stay in guest rooms in his house. Ariadne crawled in beside Arthur, and neither undressed. Ariadne curled up around Arthur, stroking his lower abdomen absently as her eyes closed. He kissed the top of her head and chuckled. "Not that tired, then?"
Ariadne laughed softly. "You know I find this soothing."
"Uh huh," Arthur teased, stroking her arm. She pressed her lips against his clothed chest as he laughed. "Probably not a good idea. You're not usually that quiet."
She reached into his pants and firmly grasped his cock. She let out a satisfied sound when it jerked expectantly against her palm. "I could probably still get you off."
"Ariadne, you can always get me off. No contest."
Stroking him gently, she stretched up to kiss his mouth. Arthur pulled her up so that he could slide his hands beneath her shirt. They could touch all the right places that led to sighs and wordless cries of passion. Mindful that the walls could be thin, Ariadne kept her touch furtive and her moans soft and breathy. It didn't take long for them to strip off their clothing so he could slide inside her. Pinning her down with his large hands, Arthur moved in long, steady strokes. She smiled as she bit her lower lip, silencing herself as best as she could. She brought her legs up around his waist, letting him plunge deeply into her. It felt good, but the best part was the intensity in his gaze. In his eyes were all the things he could never say aloud.
It didn't take long for Arthur to come and collapse on top of her. "Sorry," he murmured. "You didn't come."
"Then next time you owe me two," Ariadne giggled. He grinned and shifted his weight so that it was more comfortable for her. They whispered their I love yous and good nights. When Arthur was deeply asleep, worry lines eased from his forehead. She held him tightly and kissed him. He pulled her closer in his sleep, curling around her. Wrapping her arms around him, she allowed herself to fall asleep as well.
***
Gabriel poured himself a glass of orange juice as the hunters stumbled into the kitchen to begin making something for breakfast. "Well, kids. Who do we snag first? Famine or Pestilence? I for one would rather run down Famine. Pestilence is a piece of work."
"Dude, way too early to make decisions affecting the end of the world," Dean mumbled, setting up the coffee pot.
"If we're going after Famine, we definitely want to eat first," Arthur added, running a hand through his hair. He had brushed it back and added a little pomade to get the bangs out of his eyes, but hadn't been able to change or shower yet.
"Well, see, that's the thing," Gabriel began. "It doesn't exactly work that way."
"And then will come Famine, riding on a black steed," Castiel began somberly. "He will ride into the land of plenty. And great will be the Horseman's hunger for he is hunger. His hunger will seep out and poison the air."
"Isn't that cheerful?" Dean snarked as he started the coffee. "So he actually makes you hungry?"
"He amplifies the hungers of the soul," Gabriel answered, putting his glass aside. "Famine knows what you want most, just like this." He put his hand out, hovering just in front of Sam's chest. "And then with his ring, amplifies the thing you crave until you succumb."
Sam blinked and looked from Gabriel's hand to his face. "And then what?"
"Well," Gabriel began, withdrawing his hand and then taking a sip of orange juice. "I've never been around for the rest of it."
"If that's Famine, what's the deal with Pestilence?" Ariadne asked, smothering a yawn.
"Pestilence is the creator of the Croatoan Virus," Gabriel told her. He passed over the carton of orange juice when she reached for it. "Obviously one of his plans would be to spread the virus, exterminating humans."
"So he's helping Lucifer," Sam said. "We'll need to stop him first."
"You come near him, you get sick. Odds are good that you'll never reach him. Famine, on the other hand, is a little easier of a target."
"For a relative value of easy," Eames intoned from the doorway, startling the hunters. He nodded in greeting at Arthur and Ariadne. He was slouching, his arms crossed over his chest in an almost obstinate manner. "Truly easy would be to let the mortals sit here while we get the rings."
Gabriel gave Eames a sour look. "Divine intervention, Eames? So two thousand years ago, isn't it?"
"Then we'll flip a coin," Ariadne declared abruptly, cutting off whatever Eames' scathing reply would have been. "Arthur and I do that if there are two places to check out. So heads it's Famine, tails Pestilence."
"That's leaving it up to fate," Gabriel said with a significant look at the Winchester brothers.
"Nope. It's called shutting everyone up," Ariadne said sweetly as Sam dug into his pocket for change. Eames let out startled laughter, though Castiel and Gabriel glowered at her.
"Tails," Sam called out.
Arthur gave Ariadne a concerned look, though she missed it as she drank her orange juice. He obviously didn't want her anywhere near Pestilence, but it was just as obvious that she wouldn't want to be left behind.
She was startled when Eames slammed the grimoire onto the table out of nowhere. "Ariadne, darling, I request your assistance." He held up a hand to forestall her protest. "I do value your skill with languages, which is even better than Arthur's." Eames shot Arthur an insouciant grin, startling him further. "Yes, you can speak Apsalooke. Impressive. But she knows five languages and we'll need that."
"What are you talking about?" Ariadne asked, frowning at the trickster.
"This grimoire must remain in this house. It's hidden here, but the moment it leaves this building it will be sensed by hundreds of demons that have been searching for it for years. The lot of you will still need the spells in it, so we need someone to memorize this book and learn the Enochian language," Eames told her.
"That is not-" Castiel began.
"What the hell are you doing?" Gabriel hissed.
Eames said something in a flowing tongue that no one in the room but the angels seemed to understand. His tone was fierce and almost angry, and it took Gabriel back a half step. Castiel still had that perturbed expression on his face. "I will not leave them vulnerable," Eames concluded in English.
"All right. The rest of us will go hunt down Pestilence while you learn whatever that is to watch our backs," Dean declared as the coffee pot beeped. "We don't have weapons to kill Lucifer, so those spells are probably the only real chance we've got." He grinned when Ariadne gulped and looked at him with wide eyes. "No pressure, cuz."
Arthur looked as though he couldn't decide whether to be grateful to Eames' intervention or angry enough to hit him. That was his general feeling around him, so the unsettled feeling in his gut actually was almost comforting. "Whatever we got from Yusuf might at least slow him down enough to let you do those spells."
"Then it's decided. We'll all get to work after a hearty morning meal," Eames declared, patting the grimoire on the table. He ignored the heavy glances Castiel and Gabriel tried to give him, leaning back in his chair.
Breakfast was tense, though the hunters were all used to ignoring strain in order to get the overall job done. Arthur, Bobby and Sam put their searching skills to the test; between the three of them, they found a pattern of freak outbreaks, illnesses that rapidly progressed, antibiotic resistances and infection despite sterile surgical protocols. They centered around a nursing home, and by lunchtime the group was ready to depart.
Arthur gathered Ariadne into his arms and kissed her thoroughly. "I am coming back to you, Ariadne," he promised, jaw tight and eyes fixed on hers. The intensity there had been frightening the first time she had seen it - We're not prepared for this... There's no way we could have predicted this... I'm sorry, I should have done my research... - but by now it was comforting. He kept his promises. Arthur moved heaven and earth if he had to, but he kept his promises to the best of his ability.
He would come back to her, even if it was as a ghost.
Eames had blank paper, pens and the grimoire open to the first page in the kitchen. He was serious about teaching her about the Enochian spells. Ariadne waited until she was seated beside him at the table. "You're really worried about us," she said, brows furrowed. "Is it really as dangerous as you think it is?"
"I know it is," Eames said softly. "We're messing about with demons and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Ariadne. They won't look kindly on that sort of thing. Less so if they discover we plan to lock Lucifer back in his cage."
Shaking her head, Ariadne sighed. "I should be out there, same as the others..."
Eames moved swiftly, holding her tightly when she rose. "Ariadne, I need you here." He had one large hand fanned out along her torso, his wrist nestled beneath a breast. His other hand was spread across her belly. Ariadne was half turning to look at him with a frown at the overly handsy way he was holding her. Eames chuckled softly, a surprised kind of laughter. "Oh, love, you have no idea how much Arthur needs to protect you."
His voice was warm and most against her ear, and Ariadne could feel her breath quicken in response. "What are you doing?"
"Protection for the both of you, the only way I know how," he said softly. "Arthur wouldn't be able to concentrate or truly assist in getting to Pestilence. He would be too busy worrying about you, and you would worry about him. Not to mention how you would be a much more tempting target for Pestilence." His voice was like a caress, and Ariadne had to struggle to hold herself still in his arms and not lean into his touch. "I'm doing the best I can by both of you. I can't let any harm come to you, especially now."
"What are you talking about?" she asked, alarmed that there was a slight whine in her voice. It was taking everything in her not to tremble or turn around and kiss him.
"My protection only extends to you, after all," Eames continued in a slow voice, an edge of frustration in it. "And Arthur is protected. There are those that would seek to break it, but for now, you're both as safe as I can make you. There are powers out there, incredible powers that eclipse mine, and I would not see either of you harmed if I can help it." Eames blew out a breath and Ariadne shivered in his arms. She could feel the muscular chest at her back, the strength in his arms. He had been in a spindly form the last time she had seen him. This body was diametrically opposite to the last one, and she licked her lips nervously. It didn't make sense why she was responding to him this way, but she steeled herself against it. Maybe this was why Arthur didn't trust himself around Eames.
At that thought, Ariadne pulled away from his grasp and whirled around to face him. Her chest was heaving with the effort to contain herself, and her blood was singing in her veins, begging for release. "What are you doing to me?"
Eames frowned and appeared genuinely confused by her statement. "What are you talking about? I've only sketched a protection on you, Ariadne. I swear I haven't changed you in any way." He looked at her in concern, at the shaky breaths she was taking. "Are you that worried about Arthur? He's a known entity to them, darling. He knows what he's doing, since he's been raised as a hunter from birth."
"You don't know what you're doing, do you?" Ariadne asked with a shaky voice, amazed. "You can't feel this?"
Eames blinked in surprise and then looked at her. His face went ashen and he backed up a step, crashing into the kitchen counter. "I didn't mean for that, Ariadne, you have to believe me," he said, a desperate edge to his voice. "I never meant for that, never."
"What did you do?"
"It's not anything I did," he protested, shaking his head. "It's more of what I didn't do..." He trailed off and clamped his lips shut, as if he admitted too much.
"Jesus Christ. You love me."
"Of course I do," Eames replied in a haughty tone. "Why else would I protect a mortal?"
She saw the way his knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the counter, the tension in his shoulders. He was trying to pull the tattered remains of his indifferent persona around him, but for a moment she had seen an expression on his face that had mirrored Arthur's. "No. Not just love. You're in love with me."
"Ariadne, don't be ridiculous."
"The time you came to Arthur looking like me," she said, voice shaking slightly. "This is what happened to him, isn't it? Why he couldn't control himself? He was always so careful with me, never wanting to cross the line. He might never have crossed it if not for that night." Eames looked away from her, unable to meet her eyes. "Oh, dear god. You're in love with him, too. You weren't fucking with him for kicks. You actually love him, too."
"We need to drop this line of conversation," Eames said tightly, still unable to meet her eyes. "You need to learn Enochian fast in order to trap Lucifer."
With shaky legs, Ariadne walked forward and pressed herself against Eames. He blew out a breath and looked everywhere but at her face. "You love us. That's why you're protecting us. Not out of guilt or obligation, but because you love us." Her voice was soft, and she laid a hand over his heart. "You feel. That's why it hurts you when Arthur can't trust you. That's why you tried so hard to make it up to him."
"You need to sit down now," Eames told her firmly, bringing his hands to her shoulders. "There are spells we will need to use to slow down demons and angels alike, dispel them from areas and bind Lucifer long enough to lock him away again."
"And all of it is blood magic," Ariadne said, managing not to shiver. He was warm in her arms, and she could feel the concern bleeding from him.
"Do you know why it works that way?" he asked softly. She shook her head. "It carries life and intent. All the vampire stories say that blood is the life, but it's not just vampires. A lot of creatures in the dark know the truth of it. Blood carries the essence of life, fragments of a soul. There is power there, power that can be channeled by strength of will." Eames brushed her hair away from the side of her cheek gently, a sad light in his eyes. "There is also power in your bloodline. Arthur is a Campbell. Distantly, you're a Winchester. Your children will carry the gifts and strengths of both. And perhaps it's a dual line that's cursed, given the fate of the current Winchesters." His hands dropped to her shoulders, purely platonic even if she knew he wanted more than that. "I will protect your children as well, you understand. I would teach them what they need to know, so you needn't worry about them."
Ariadne leaned in and quietly dropped a kiss onto his chin. She was suddenly sorry that he was alone in the world and they didn't love him the same way. She had always liked him, in an absent sort of way, the way people can love something dangerous but still not trust it. "Thank you for protecting us, Eames."
"Yes, well... Hardly worth the thanks if demons get you. Go on, sit and stop being so foolish."
She could almost see his rapid pulse in his throat. Staying this close to him was a cruel kind of torture, and she backed away slowly. He breathed easier when she was just beyond arm's length, but the knowledge of his true motivations hung between them. There was no way to unsay it, to remove that knowledge from her mind. She wouldn't want to remove it anyway. This made him more approachable. Almost human, in a way. She could understand frustration and love and desire, but couldn't understand a godly game of chess with mortals as the chess pieces. Or rather, she didn't want to understand that kind of game.
Willing her heartbeat to slow down, Ariadne sat on one of the chairs. Eames sat beside her, almost stiffly at first. When it became clear that Ariadne wasn't about to remark on his emotional state again, he unwound slightly.
Enochian was much harder for her to learn than Latin or Old English, but it had its own internal logical sense that she was able to pick up on after a while. Reading the writing was much easier than speaking the words, as it was very fluid and melodic. That had been the reason why it had sounded as though Eames had been singing before; Ariadne had to wonder how much of his prior songs or nonsense rhymes had actually been Enochian and not some kind of gibberish made up language. Ariadne couldn't sing on key very well, so she was at a disadvantage in learning spoken Enochian.
"I love you," she said in Enochian, practicing the conjugation. Eames froze beside her, pen clenched in a white knuckled grip. For a moment she nearly asked what was wrong with him, but then she realized what verb she was using to learn the grammar. "Oh, Eames, I... I'm sorry, I don't mean to hurt you..."
"You are never intentionally cruel," Eames said, staring at the paper in front of them. "But that doesn't mean that sometimes you can't disembowel a man with your words."
Ariadne clutched at his sleeve. "I'm sorry."
He turned and looked at her miserable expression. Whatever he saw there made him forcibly smooth his expression into one of perfect blankness. He stood abruptly, his chair falling to the floor behind him. "You need a break anyway." Before she could protest, the pen tumbled from his fingers and he simply vanished.
Ariadne had to push away the feeling that she had made a terrible mistake in pushing Eames the way she had. She could only hope that she hadn't earned his hatred in the process.
***
***
To Chapter Five - Hunting In Concert
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
Four - Splitting The Party
"Okay," Dean began, blinking rapidly. The salve part of the Enochian spell irritated his eyes something fierce, but he was going to follow directions for once. Castiel said the salve had to remain coating his eyes for ten minutes after the chanting ended. "So, short of calling on an actual hellhound to rip us all to shreds, how can we test if this works?"
"Doubting my skill?" Eames asked archly. "I'm hurt, Dean."
"Dude, seeing is believing."
"Certainly so," he agreed. He looked over at Arthur and Ariadne, who had their hands linked together to help refrain from rubbing at their eyes. Dean had one hand occasionally reaching toward Castiel, the other gripping his thigh tight. Sam merely kept his eyes squeezed shut as he literally sat on his hands. Bobby merely glared at everyone in the room in turns.
Gabriel leaned against the kitchen counter and paged through the grimoire idly. "It wouldn't be necessary to have a hellhound," he said, running his finger over the symbols. He looked up with his trademark smirk. "Well, not one from hell, anyway. I could conjure one up..."
"And would that actually be the same?" Dean asked, disbelief evident.
"It's not like we have much of a choice," Sam countered before Gabriel could speak.
"Tricksters are good at illusions and conjuring," Arthur informed them, voice sharp. "And if they're helping us, it's not in their best interest to fuck us over on this point."
Gabriel pointed to Arthur with an open hand, an expectant look on his face. "See? See? At least one of you mortals has sense."
Eames looked up from the design he was painting on the kitchen floor in chocolate syrup. "And let it be known that said mortal is mine."
"Eames..." Arthur began in a warning smile. Eames easily dodged Ariadne's booted kick as she snapped "No, he's mine."
"Ah, ah, ah…" Eames taunted, wagging a finger on them. "We're not quite done yet. Keep the violence to a minimum, yes?"
"Ass," Arthur growled.
"Tricksters and angels are both dicks," Dean declared, making Gabriel snort in amusement. "I notice you don't deny that," he said, looking over at Gabriel. Five more minutes, then the last of the spell could be laid and he could rub at his eyes. He might have grabbed Castiel's sleeve to distract himself, but the angel didn't mind it in the least.
"What? It's true. Present company excepted, of course," Gabriel replied. He flipped through another few pages of the book. "Imagine conforming to the same exact rules for millennia, never getting confirmation you're doing a good job, never getting a vacation, no breaks for your sanity. Is it any wonder angels are a dour bunch?"
"Is that why you went AWOL?" Ariadne asked, looking over at Gabriel.
"I had my reasons," he replied. "It wasn't the only one."
"Don't fallen angels become demons?" she asked him.
"When Anna ripped out her grace, she became human," Sam told Ariadne. "So it depends how they fall."
"Demons were human once," Dean said abruptly. "Ruby told me that," he explained when Sam shot him an incredulous look. "She was a witch, then became a lying ho-bag demon."
"So comforted by that piece of information," Ariadne said dryly.
Gabriel shut the grimoire with a snap as Eames finished the design on the kitchen floor. The hunters all jerked in their seats, but he didn't seem amused in the slightest. "I'll summon a test subject. I'll be able to contain it," he added sourly when Eames shot him an alarmed look. "One of Iaoel's best tricks."
Eames' hands tightened into fists and his jaw clenched as he stared at Gabriel silently. He jerked when Ariadne touched his shoulder in concern, then forcibly calmed himself and flashed Arthur a patently false smile. "Let's begin."
It was as if Gabriel ripped apart time and space, creating a fissure in the air in front of him. He reached through it and after a moment pulled his hand back. In his fist was a snarling puppy with long, curling fangs and paws that ended in razor sharp claws. Dean recoiled in recognition, and all of the others looked at him. "Fuck," he whispered, eyes wide as he saw the writhing creature caught in Gabriel's fist. "I can see that. In colors, even."
Nodding as though that was what he expected, Gabriel thrust the puppy back through the shimmering fissure and then sealed it shut with a flick of his wrist. "Vision spell works just fine, then. You can take the salve off now. It's set."
"What's the chocolate on the floor for, then?" Bobby demanded, rubbing at his eyes.
"Protection spell," Eames replied. "Different one," he told Ariadne and Arthur when they opened their mouths. "And a very different one than what he used," he told Sam and Dean with a nod at Castiel. The angel shrugged when the Winchester brothers looked to him in silent question at what Eames meant. "Not a fan of bone carving, personally. Far too messy."
"I rather thought it was neater this way," Castiel replied. "It's not as visible to outsiders."
"You protected yours from angels, I protected mine from the old gods," Eames said, though he was getting visibly irritated. "Neither of you are thinking past locking Lucifer back in the cage or killing him, are you? Should the mortals survive, it would be best if the next generation was hidden from both sides." He leveled a steady glare at Castiel and Gabriel. "Anything else you wanted to say, angel?"
Castiel looked at Eames with his usual mild expression. "As you've said, I'm a soldier."
"What's at stake in this pissing contest?" Dean asked.
"Nothing important," Gabriel said, dropping the grimoire loudly in the center of the enlarged kitchen table. "Let the big kids worry about that shit, boys." He turned and quirked a smile at Ariadne. "Girl."
"Glad your eyes work," she answered dryly. "I was starting to wonder."
"Oooh, play nice," he teased. Gabriel flicked a glance at Eames, then looked at Castiel. "That's taken care of, so you need to start tracking down Famine and Pestilence. We're going to need those rings, just in case. I'd rather have a backup plan for this."
"You don't think we can kill him, do you?" Arthur asked, no inflection in his tone.
"I'd rather be prepared for anything. Lucifer is old and had millennia to plan his escape. He can afford to take the long view. You don't have as long to wait."
"What weapons do we have that will kill him, then?" Arthur pressed. "The Colt didn't work, we don't have an Angel Sword."
"I'm working on it," Gabriel replied as Eames started a low hum deep in his throat. With a sigh, he looked at Castiel. "Take counterpoint, will you? It's a spell that works best with two."
"Why won't you help?" Castiel asked.
"Places to go, people to trick," Gabriel replied flippantly. Before anyone could say anything else, he snapped his fingers and simply vanished.
"Angels are such dicks," Dean muttered.
"Indeed," Castiel answered with a mild shake of his head. "We will complete the ritual, then you are all off to bed. You need rest."
Bobby let them all stay in guest rooms in his house. Ariadne crawled in beside Arthur, and neither undressed. Ariadne curled up around Arthur, stroking his lower abdomen absently as her eyes closed. He kissed the top of her head and chuckled. "Not that tired, then?"
Ariadne laughed softly. "You know I find this soothing."
"Uh huh," Arthur teased, stroking her arm. She pressed her lips against his clothed chest as he laughed. "Probably not a good idea. You're not usually that quiet."
She reached into his pants and firmly grasped his cock. She let out a satisfied sound when it jerked expectantly against her palm. "I could probably still get you off."
"Ariadne, you can always get me off. No contest."
Stroking him gently, she stretched up to kiss his mouth. Arthur pulled her up so that he could slide his hands beneath her shirt. They could touch all the right places that led to sighs and wordless cries of passion. Mindful that the walls could be thin, Ariadne kept her touch furtive and her moans soft and breathy. It didn't take long for them to strip off their clothing so he could slide inside her. Pinning her down with his large hands, Arthur moved in long, steady strokes. She smiled as she bit her lower lip, silencing herself as best as she could. She brought her legs up around his waist, letting him plunge deeply into her. It felt good, but the best part was the intensity in his gaze. In his eyes were all the things he could never say aloud.
It didn't take long for Arthur to come and collapse on top of her. "Sorry," he murmured. "You didn't come."
"Then next time you owe me two," Ariadne giggled. He grinned and shifted his weight so that it was more comfortable for her. They whispered their I love yous and good nights. When Arthur was deeply asleep, worry lines eased from his forehead. She held him tightly and kissed him. He pulled her closer in his sleep, curling around her. Wrapping her arms around him, she allowed herself to fall asleep as well.
***
Gabriel poured himself a glass of orange juice as the hunters stumbled into the kitchen to begin making something for breakfast. "Well, kids. Who do we snag first? Famine or Pestilence? I for one would rather run down Famine. Pestilence is a piece of work."
"Dude, way too early to make decisions affecting the end of the world," Dean mumbled, setting up the coffee pot.
"If we're going after Famine, we definitely want to eat first," Arthur added, running a hand through his hair. He had brushed it back and added a little pomade to get the bangs out of his eyes, but hadn't been able to change or shower yet.
"Well, see, that's the thing," Gabriel began. "It doesn't exactly work that way."
"And then will come Famine, riding on a black steed," Castiel began somberly. "He will ride into the land of plenty. And great will be the Horseman's hunger for he is hunger. His hunger will seep out and poison the air."
"Isn't that cheerful?" Dean snarked as he started the coffee. "So he actually makes you hungry?"
"He amplifies the hungers of the soul," Gabriel answered, putting his glass aside. "Famine knows what you want most, just like this." He put his hand out, hovering just in front of Sam's chest. "And then with his ring, amplifies the thing you crave until you succumb."
Sam blinked and looked from Gabriel's hand to his face. "And then what?"
"Well," Gabriel began, withdrawing his hand and then taking a sip of orange juice. "I've never been around for the rest of it."
"If that's Famine, what's the deal with Pestilence?" Ariadne asked, smothering a yawn.
"Pestilence is the creator of the Croatoan Virus," Gabriel told her. He passed over the carton of orange juice when she reached for it. "Obviously one of his plans would be to spread the virus, exterminating humans."
"So he's helping Lucifer," Sam said. "We'll need to stop him first."
"You come near him, you get sick. Odds are good that you'll never reach him. Famine, on the other hand, is a little easier of a target."
"For a relative value of easy," Eames intoned from the doorway, startling the hunters. He nodded in greeting at Arthur and Ariadne. He was slouching, his arms crossed over his chest in an almost obstinate manner. "Truly easy would be to let the mortals sit here while we get the rings."
Gabriel gave Eames a sour look. "Divine intervention, Eames? So two thousand years ago, isn't it?"
"Then we'll flip a coin," Ariadne declared abruptly, cutting off whatever Eames' scathing reply would have been. "Arthur and I do that if there are two places to check out. So heads it's Famine, tails Pestilence."
"That's leaving it up to fate," Gabriel said with a significant look at the Winchester brothers.
"Nope. It's called shutting everyone up," Ariadne said sweetly as Sam dug into his pocket for change. Eames let out startled laughter, though Castiel and Gabriel glowered at her.
"Tails," Sam called out.
Arthur gave Ariadne a concerned look, though she missed it as she drank her orange juice. He obviously didn't want her anywhere near Pestilence, but it was just as obvious that she wouldn't want to be left behind.
She was startled when Eames slammed the grimoire onto the table out of nowhere. "Ariadne, darling, I request your assistance." He held up a hand to forestall her protest. "I do value your skill with languages, which is even better than Arthur's." Eames shot Arthur an insouciant grin, startling him further. "Yes, you can speak Apsalooke. Impressive. But she knows five languages and we'll need that."
"What are you talking about?" Ariadne asked, frowning at the trickster.
"This grimoire must remain in this house. It's hidden here, but the moment it leaves this building it will be sensed by hundreds of demons that have been searching for it for years. The lot of you will still need the spells in it, so we need someone to memorize this book and learn the Enochian language," Eames told her.
"That is not-" Castiel began.
"What the hell are you doing?" Gabriel hissed.
Eames said something in a flowing tongue that no one in the room but the angels seemed to understand. His tone was fierce and almost angry, and it took Gabriel back a half step. Castiel still had that perturbed expression on his face. "I will not leave them vulnerable," Eames concluded in English.
"All right. The rest of us will go hunt down Pestilence while you learn whatever that is to watch our backs," Dean declared as the coffee pot beeped. "We don't have weapons to kill Lucifer, so those spells are probably the only real chance we've got." He grinned when Ariadne gulped and looked at him with wide eyes. "No pressure, cuz."
Arthur looked as though he couldn't decide whether to be grateful to Eames' intervention or angry enough to hit him. That was his general feeling around him, so the unsettled feeling in his gut actually was almost comforting. "Whatever we got from Yusuf might at least slow him down enough to let you do those spells."
"Then it's decided. We'll all get to work after a hearty morning meal," Eames declared, patting the grimoire on the table. He ignored the heavy glances Castiel and Gabriel tried to give him, leaning back in his chair.
Breakfast was tense, though the hunters were all used to ignoring strain in order to get the overall job done. Arthur, Bobby and Sam put their searching skills to the test; between the three of them, they found a pattern of freak outbreaks, illnesses that rapidly progressed, antibiotic resistances and infection despite sterile surgical protocols. They centered around a nursing home, and by lunchtime the group was ready to depart.
Arthur gathered Ariadne into his arms and kissed her thoroughly. "I am coming back to you, Ariadne," he promised, jaw tight and eyes fixed on hers. The intensity there had been frightening the first time she had seen it - We're not prepared for this... There's no way we could have predicted this... I'm sorry, I should have done my research... - but by now it was comforting. He kept his promises. Arthur moved heaven and earth if he had to, but he kept his promises to the best of his ability.
He would come back to her, even if it was as a ghost.
Eames had blank paper, pens and the grimoire open to the first page in the kitchen. He was serious about teaching her about the Enochian spells. Ariadne waited until she was seated beside him at the table. "You're really worried about us," she said, brows furrowed. "Is it really as dangerous as you think it is?"
"I know it is," Eames said softly. "We're messing about with demons and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Ariadne. They won't look kindly on that sort of thing. Less so if they discover we plan to lock Lucifer back in his cage."
Shaking her head, Ariadne sighed. "I should be out there, same as the others..."
Eames moved swiftly, holding her tightly when she rose. "Ariadne, I need you here." He had one large hand fanned out along her torso, his wrist nestled beneath a breast. His other hand was spread across her belly. Ariadne was half turning to look at him with a frown at the overly handsy way he was holding her. Eames chuckled softly, a surprised kind of laughter. "Oh, love, you have no idea how much Arthur needs to protect you."
His voice was warm and most against her ear, and Ariadne could feel her breath quicken in response. "What are you doing?"
"Protection for the both of you, the only way I know how," he said softly. "Arthur wouldn't be able to concentrate or truly assist in getting to Pestilence. He would be too busy worrying about you, and you would worry about him. Not to mention how you would be a much more tempting target for Pestilence." His voice was like a caress, and Ariadne had to struggle to hold herself still in his arms and not lean into his touch. "I'm doing the best I can by both of you. I can't let any harm come to you, especially now."
"What are you talking about?" she asked, alarmed that there was a slight whine in her voice. It was taking everything in her not to tremble or turn around and kiss him.
"My protection only extends to you, after all," Eames continued in a slow voice, an edge of frustration in it. "And Arthur is protected. There are those that would seek to break it, but for now, you're both as safe as I can make you. There are powers out there, incredible powers that eclipse mine, and I would not see either of you harmed if I can help it." Eames blew out a breath and Ariadne shivered in his arms. She could feel the muscular chest at her back, the strength in his arms. He had been in a spindly form the last time she had seen him. This body was diametrically opposite to the last one, and she licked her lips nervously. It didn't make sense why she was responding to him this way, but she steeled herself against it. Maybe this was why Arthur didn't trust himself around Eames.
At that thought, Ariadne pulled away from his grasp and whirled around to face him. Her chest was heaving with the effort to contain herself, and her blood was singing in her veins, begging for release. "What are you doing to me?"
Eames frowned and appeared genuinely confused by her statement. "What are you talking about? I've only sketched a protection on you, Ariadne. I swear I haven't changed you in any way." He looked at her in concern, at the shaky breaths she was taking. "Are you that worried about Arthur? He's a known entity to them, darling. He knows what he's doing, since he's been raised as a hunter from birth."
"You don't know what you're doing, do you?" Ariadne asked with a shaky voice, amazed. "You can't feel this?"
Eames blinked in surprise and then looked at her. His face went ashen and he backed up a step, crashing into the kitchen counter. "I didn't mean for that, Ariadne, you have to believe me," he said, a desperate edge to his voice. "I never meant for that, never."
"What did you do?"
"It's not anything I did," he protested, shaking his head. "It's more of what I didn't do..." He trailed off and clamped his lips shut, as if he admitted too much.
"Jesus Christ. You love me."
"Of course I do," Eames replied in a haughty tone. "Why else would I protect a mortal?"
She saw the way his knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the counter, the tension in his shoulders. He was trying to pull the tattered remains of his indifferent persona around him, but for a moment she had seen an expression on his face that had mirrored Arthur's. "No. Not just love. You're in love with me."
"Ariadne, don't be ridiculous."
"The time you came to Arthur looking like me," she said, voice shaking slightly. "This is what happened to him, isn't it? Why he couldn't control himself? He was always so careful with me, never wanting to cross the line. He might never have crossed it if not for that night." Eames looked away from her, unable to meet her eyes. "Oh, dear god. You're in love with him, too. You weren't fucking with him for kicks. You actually love him, too."
"We need to drop this line of conversation," Eames said tightly, still unable to meet her eyes. "You need to learn Enochian fast in order to trap Lucifer."
With shaky legs, Ariadne walked forward and pressed herself against Eames. He blew out a breath and looked everywhere but at her face. "You love us. That's why you're protecting us. Not out of guilt or obligation, but because you love us." Her voice was soft, and she laid a hand over his heart. "You feel. That's why it hurts you when Arthur can't trust you. That's why you tried so hard to make it up to him."
"You need to sit down now," Eames told her firmly, bringing his hands to her shoulders. "There are spells we will need to use to slow down demons and angels alike, dispel them from areas and bind Lucifer long enough to lock him away again."
"And all of it is blood magic," Ariadne said, managing not to shiver. He was warm in her arms, and she could feel the concern bleeding from him.
"Do you know why it works that way?" he asked softly. She shook her head. "It carries life and intent. All the vampire stories say that blood is the life, but it's not just vampires. A lot of creatures in the dark know the truth of it. Blood carries the essence of life, fragments of a soul. There is power there, power that can be channeled by strength of will." Eames brushed her hair away from the side of her cheek gently, a sad light in his eyes. "There is also power in your bloodline. Arthur is a Campbell. Distantly, you're a Winchester. Your children will carry the gifts and strengths of both. And perhaps it's a dual line that's cursed, given the fate of the current Winchesters." His hands dropped to her shoulders, purely platonic even if she knew he wanted more than that. "I will protect your children as well, you understand. I would teach them what they need to know, so you needn't worry about them."
Ariadne leaned in and quietly dropped a kiss onto his chin. She was suddenly sorry that he was alone in the world and they didn't love him the same way. She had always liked him, in an absent sort of way, the way people can love something dangerous but still not trust it. "Thank you for protecting us, Eames."
"Yes, well... Hardly worth the thanks if demons get you. Go on, sit and stop being so foolish."
She could almost see his rapid pulse in his throat. Staying this close to him was a cruel kind of torture, and she backed away slowly. He breathed easier when she was just beyond arm's length, but the knowledge of his true motivations hung between them. There was no way to unsay it, to remove that knowledge from her mind. She wouldn't want to remove it anyway. This made him more approachable. Almost human, in a way. She could understand frustration and love and desire, but couldn't understand a godly game of chess with mortals as the chess pieces. Or rather, she didn't want to understand that kind of game.
Willing her heartbeat to slow down, Ariadne sat on one of the chairs. Eames sat beside her, almost stiffly at first. When it became clear that Ariadne wasn't about to remark on his emotional state again, he unwound slightly.
Enochian was much harder for her to learn than Latin or Old English, but it had its own internal logical sense that she was able to pick up on after a while. Reading the writing was much easier than speaking the words, as it was very fluid and melodic. That had been the reason why it had sounded as though Eames had been singing before; Ariadne had to wonder how much of his prior songs or nonsense rhymes had actually been Enochian and not some kind of gibberish made up language. Ariadne couldn't sing on key very well, so she was at a disadvantage in learning spoken Enochian.
"I love you," she said in Enochian, practicing the conjugation. Eames froze beside her, pen clenched in a white knuckled grip. For a moment she nearly asked what was wrong with him, but then she realized what verb she was using to learn the grammar. "Oh, Eames, I... I'm sorry, I don't mean to hurt you..."
"You are never intentionally cruel," Eames said, staring at the paper in front of them. "But that doesn't mean that sometimes you can't disembowel a man with your words."
Ariadne clutched at his sleeve. "I'm sorry."
He turned and looked at her miserable expression. Whatever he saw there made him forcibly smooth his expression into one of perfect blankness. He stood abruptly, his chair falling to the floor behind him. "You need a break anyway." Before she could protest, the pen tumbled from his fingers and he simply vanished.
Ariadne had to push away the feeling that she had made a terrible mistake in pushing Eames the way she had. She could only hope that she hadn't earned his hatred in the process.
***
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To Chapter Five - Hunting In Concert