SPN: The End of Innocence (9/9) [T]
Fandom:
Supernatural
Title:
The End of Innocence
Chapter 8:
New Leads
In which Claire thinks Bobby might have been on to something after all.
Author:
lt_indigo
Pairing(s):
Dean/Cas (kind of)
Warning(s):
none
Disclamer:
Kripke owns, not me.
Word count:
4,564
Back | Masterpost | Epilogue
Claire left before sunrise the next morning, relying on Cas’ sleeping pills to keep him under for a while yet, and went straight to the library. Ever since Cas had mentioned the incongruity with the Trickster’s powers, something had been nagging at her. Even though she had prioritised the Kansas City question, she had still out for anything to help her with the Colt problem, or with the hunt for Gabriel. And yesterday, she had found a whole pile of records that appeared to refer to nephilim children.
Sure enough, when she pulled the batch out, most of them were about as far from the truth as she had thought they would be, but a few stood out: Acton, England, in 1647, a single woman had been hanged for infanticide, but the parish priest recorded that although she seemed sane, she claimed that the father had been an angel; in Donaldsonville, Louisiana, in 1772, another woman had been hanged for killing her baby with, the priest described, a triangular blade that had never been seen before and was not found among the woman’s possessions; in Munich, Germany, 1593, a pregnant, unmarried woman had been found dead, with her eyes burned from her skull.
To Claire, it was obvious: these were all angel kills, but she could easily understand how no-one would have made the connection before now.
Going back through the three sets of records, there were mentions of peculiar events around nine months prior to the birth of the children; the deaths of several parishioners who were known to be drunkards, wife-beaters, perverts and even a lay priest who had been caught more than once with his hand in the alms box. It all tallied with what Claire had read in the flashback sequence of the book, where Sam had recalled a previous encounter with the Trickster. All of the recorded deaths fit with what Claire had read about tricksters’ MOs; something she verified quickly in Bobby’s Book of Monsters, where he had dutifully recorded the habits, identifying features and method of dispatching multiple supernatural creatures.
The sun was starting to rise as she gathered everything together and raced to Dean’s cabin. He was tousled and wearing rumpled, slept-in clothes when he answered the door, but he seemed alert enough.
“Claire? Is Cas okay?” he demanded urgently, his eyes wide with worry.
“He’s fine,” she said hurriedly. “He was asleep when I left him. You’ve already met Gabriel. Twice.”
She thrust the copy of ‘Mystery Spot’ at him.
“Son of a bitch!” He ushered her inside, staring at the book incredulously. “The Trickster?”
She nodded, clutching her files to her chest. “It all fits. Pastor Jim was obviously already looking into nephilim, because all the files that mentions them were together, and it didn’t take much to find the obvious ones.”
Dean gave a slight sigh. “Yeah, he’d have been looking for proof that angels existed: he always liked the idea that they were out there. I figured that’s where Sam got it all from. And he just loved that he was right, right up until they all turned out to be total dicks. Actually, yeah, it makes totals sense that the damn Trickster would turn out to be one of them: he’s just like Zachariah was. He liked killing us and throwing us into false realities to teach us a lesson too. Does any of it help us find the little shit now?”
Claire pulled a face and shrugged. “No, not yet. There doesn’t seem to be a link, but I thought that maybe when we go to Kansas City I could do some research online?”
A slow smile spread across his face. “You’re coming?”
“You always knew I would,” she said with a wry smile.
He was good enough to shrug, making out that he hadn’t been certain after all. “I thought you would: you’re enough like your dad and Cas. And you were kicking some serious ass yesterday; you’ll be fine.”
Claire blushed and nodded. “I feel better this time. I think knowing I can shoot something helps.”
There was a little snort of laughter from Dean. “Yeah. Yeah, that does help, doesn’t it? I remember when I first managed to shoot straight, I felt so much better about being left to protect Sam.”
She nodded. True, she had never had a younger brother or sister to look after, but Claire had felt responsible for those who had gone to Sioux Falls with her. Had she been able to distract Meg with a shot of her own, Bobby might still be alive. Now Claire had that opportunity, no matter how unconventional it was.
.oOo.
Castiel looked worried when he entered the commissary, but his expression immediately lifted when his eyes found Claire. He looked positively delighted when he saw that she was sat with Dean. But as he approached their table and realised they were talking about the trip to Kansas City, his eyes darkened.
“You cannot go, Claire.”
Six weeks ago, the statement would have been blunt and nothing else. Now there was an edge of panic in Cas’ voice. Claire understood immediately: she had always felt the same way whenever Cas left camp, spent hours worrying that he might never come back.
“Someone needs to keep watch,” Claire said, setting down her spoon.
“I can do that,” Cas said, plaintively.
“Cas, you can’t,” Dean said sadly. “You can’t travel for that long. Not right not.”
“I can,” he responded stubbornly, “and I shall. Claire is fifteen years old, Dean: you cannot take her into a possible combat situation.”
Dean shot Claire a warning glare, stopping her protest dead.
“Claire is not a child, Cas,” he said firmly. “She is much older than I was when I started hunting, and she has all the skills you taught her. And, right now, she’s fitter than you, Cas.”
“I’m also going to do some research online,” Claire said, trying to appease Cas. “I really need to abuse the facilities in Kansas City while I’ve got the chance.”
“I am perfectly capable of researching,” Cas said stubbornly.
“Online?”
He glared balefully at her as if the one word had been a highly personal attack, rather than a teasing acknowledgement of his hatred of and unfamiliarity with computers.
“Come on, Cas,” Dean said. “Sit down, get some breakfast, and we’ll talk about this later.”
Cas sat stiffly beside Dean, but made no effort to get himself any food. “There is nothing to discuss. Claire is my… my vessel’s child: she is my responsibility, and I do not wish for her to leave the camp.”
Claire blinked at Castiel’s hesitation, wondering what he had been about to say before he stopped himself. She reached over the table and placed a hand on his arm.
“Cas, it’s not like last time: we’re going to a city populated by actual humans. I can protect myself now. And I’ll have plenty of people around me to protect me in case I can’t manage to do it myself. And I really need access to their facilities, in a safe environment, so that I can continue my research.”
Dean gave her an encouraging smile, clearly feeling that she was winning Cas over. But he wasn’t relaxing under her touch: he was actually getting more tense, if anything.
“Castiel, please,” she said gently, using his full name on purpose - something she absolutely never did outside of the privacy of their own cabin. “I am going. Dean won’t let me get into any danger. I will be fine.”
Cas looked from Claire’s earnest face to Dean’s reassuring but concerned one.
“I clearly cannot dissuade either of you from this plan,” he said finally. “However, I am not an invalid; I am perfectly capable of travelling, and I will be coming with you.”
“Cas,” Dean began, before catching himself with a sigh. “Fine. I guess you’re old enough to decide for yourself.”
Cas met his eyes levelly. “Given that I am approximately twelve million times your age, I would say that is a fair assumption.”
“Huh.”
Cas frowned at Dean’s reaction. “What?”
Dean shrugged. “That makes you, what? About four hundred and… eight million? Thought you were older, that’s all.”
Claire smiled as the conversation devolved into Cas trying to be serious about his age, and Dean teasing him playfully but always wary not to touch Cas. So maybe Cas leaving camp in his condition wasn’t the best idea, and she was sure Jane would have some things to say about it when she found out, but at least he wouldn’t just be at home worrying about them. They would be together, a team. Maybe even a family once more?
.oOo.
Ellen and Jo also tried to talk Castiel out of his plans to go once they found out. Both had noticed how badly he had been moving during their brief stay, but they were equally unsuccessful. Jane threatened to sedate him if he even tried, but even she realised that Cas was a soldier at heart and needed to feel useful, needed to be on the front line.
After that, she silently expressed her disapproval by scowling at Cas when he helped with organising the supplies they would need, loading up the trucks and assigning personnel. Given this was technically a recon mission, potentially a true case rather than simply demons or Croats, they weren’t taking nearly as many of their militia as they normally would: they wanted as few untrained hunters on the ground as possible. Claire was only getting by because of her research experience and the abilities Cas had given her. Which Jo and Ellen were deeply impressed with when they saw her train later in the week, the day Cas joined back in with the regular activities (carefully and sneakily regulated by Dean, but Cas noticed anyway and got annoyed).
Finally, everything was prepared. All their supplies were stowed on the trucks, everyone’s bags were packed and their weapons cleaned and honed to perfection. Claire’s notes were carefully bound up and secured in a box, ready to go.
.oOo.
Kansas City was a haven. There was simply no other word for it. It was a little haven of normality in the middle of the desolate, abandoned Mid-West. The citizens were far from ignorant of what was going on outside their borders, but equally they hadn’t let it affect them too badly. They still had electricity and foodstuffs. They were still growing crops to feed the city’s inhabitants. But they were also quite willing to help find an answer to explain their peculiar immunity in order to help other survivors.
“We’ve got nothing to hide here,” the mayor said enthusiastically when he welcomed Dean and Ellen back to the city. “We just keep on going as we always have.”
Dean nodded and smiled disarmingly. “Cas and Claire here want to use your libraries, if that’s okay?”
“Sure!” he boomed, taking them in with a quick sweep of his eyes. “Whatever you need to work it out.”
.oOo.
“The mayor and his staff all appear to be human,” Cas reported as they stood outside of City Hall, having been granted free access to every amenity in the city. “Perhaps, though, we should walk to the libraries to maximise our exposure to the general populace?”
“Sure thing, Cas,” Dean said with a smile. “It’s about six blocks that way. Loads of exposure.”
Cas scowled. “It will give us some exposure,” he amended. “Claire and I will need to be vigilant when we are on the streets, in case there are supernatural forces at work here, and we cannot be in two places at once.”
Claire bit her tongue to stop herself from saying that Cas didn’t have to stay with her: he was completely insistent that he would stick with her to ensure her safety rather than the more sensible option of dividing their abilities across the city.
“The university library is about five miles south of here,” Dean added, his eyes still twinkling mischievously. “I think there’s an omnibus goes out there if you don’t want to walk the whole way. You’ll still get a feel for the people since you won’t be going real fast.”
Claire was about to ask what an ‘omnibus’ was when one plodded along the street in front of them. She had noticed that there weren’t all that many cars around, which made sense given that no-one was exactly drilling for oil or refining gasoline any more - it was an extremely valuable resource these days - but she hadn’t realised that the passenger transportation in the city was mainly horse-drawn carts, some large ones of which bore some vague resemblance to a bus. It was then that the Latin clicked in her mind: ‘all’: it was a carriage for all, for everyone to travel in. It had never occurred to her before that was where the word ‘bus’ had come from in the first place.
“We’ll think about it,” she said, steering Cas towards the public library. “We’ll catch you guys later, yeah?”
“Sure,” Dean said with a grin. “Keep your radio on.”
She waved it at Dean reassuringly even as she pushed Cas in front of her, eager to get started on the problem.
.oOo.
Claire frowned as she stared at the meaningless jumble of names and local places in front of her. “Has anyone actually plotted this out?” she asked. “Worked out exactly how far the safe zone goes?”
“I imagine that would be difficult to determine precisely due to the nature of the surrounding countryside,” Castiel said. “Why do you… You mean to determine the centre of the effect?”
“Might help,” she said with a shrug. “If it’s circular, then there’s a point of origin.”
“That would indeed assist is if we were able to determine it,” Cas agreed. “Perhaps you should investigate that initially.”
He waved at the computer that inhabited one desk in the private research room the library had set aside for their use. Claire was still entertained by the fact that Cas found the machine to be ‘utterly unfathomable’. It was a little reminder of just how old he actually was, and how long it had been since he last spent any real time on Earth. Two thousand years’ worth of technological advances must have been a real culture shock to him.
His inability to use the computer actually gave Claire another opportunity: while he was occupied with the books and newspapers detailing the history of Kansas City, she had other tabs open where she was looking into her cambion cases, seeing if the internet could find any patterns she hadn’t been able to find so far.
.oOo.
Cas had gone to get some lunch for them both, and had said he would possibly be gone for an hour. Claire had just raised her eyebrows: he wasn’t fooling her. As much as he wanted to help her, wanted to keep her safe, he was stiff and sore from sitting for so long, and he missed Dean. He had left Claire under the watchful eye of Harriet, the librarian, and had been gone for no more than ten minutes when Claire’s plot on Google Earth (apparently Palo Alto had survived. Or the Google servers and the municipal power station at the very least) finally produced some results. She couldn’t believe her eyes, nor the common sense of the people of Kansas City. It couldn’t possibly be real, could it? Surely no-one could possibly have been that stupid?
She grabbed the radio from the desk, next to the keyboard. “Righteous Man, this is Thursday’s Child. Come in, please.”
There was no reply, so she tried calling Dean again. Then Ellen, then Jo. She switched the radio to a different channel and tried again, wondering whether she might have missed Dean telling everyone to switch. But every time she got the same result: nothing but static.
Harriet came running at her increasingly frantic attempts to raise anyone and quickly tried to reassure her.
“Oh, honey, that’s normal these days: radios and TV just fritz out for a few hours across the whole city. It’ll come back on eventually.”
Claire stared. A black spot? Yeah, that wasn’t suspicious at all.
.oOo.
She tried to be patient and wait, but she couldn’t help but worry about the silence from everyone. What if she’d missed something, being cooped up in the library? What if whatever was here had gotten to them? And she kept staring at the church, right at the very centre of the safe zone, less than three miles away and on an omnibus route. When Harriet suggested that she go for a walk to settle her nerves, Claire jumped at the chance, the excuse. She would only take a quick look, and be back soon enough herself.
Her nerves jangled all the way there: she wasn’t used to being around so many people after such a long time being isolated. She realised how much she both missed the sounds of a city, of humanity, and longed to be back in the relatively peaceful camp. This reality, here in the city, seemed false. It was too good, too normal, and she couldn’t stand it: these people were clean, well fed and well rested; they weren’t fighting for survival every day because it was being handed to them on a platter. It was so, so unfair. Why did they get to live while her mother and so many others had died, or worse?
By the time she pushed open the doors to the bright, modern church out on East 24th, she was almost vibrating with unease about what was going on here. It should have been a warning, a herald. But all she was truly conscious of was that she hated this place, and that Cas was going to kill her for wandering off on her own.
A man was sat in one of the pews. He stood and turned to face her. She froze.
“You?”
He smiled. “Me.”
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