Key Harbor Act IV: Going Going Home
The Impala pulled off of the residential street onto a side road, heading away from the tourist areas of town. Sparse traffic gave way to non-existent as the vehicle traveled among bleak buildings and warehouses, instead of the charming cottages and hotels that seemed to make up most of the town. Officer Carlson and Donna Shanahan sat quietly in the back seat. Every once in a while their gazes would meet, and they’d look away again. The officer gave the banker a reassuring smile, and went to reach for her hand on the seat between them. Donna returned the smile, but put her hand in her lap without acknowledging his movements. In the passenger seat, Sam Winchester ended a call on his cellphone.
“And?” prompted Dee from the driver’s seat.
Sam took a deep breath. “And…” he repeated, “Cas is already there with the supplies. He’s going to try to set up the spell, but he can’t cast it until tomorrow.”
In the back seat, Officer Carlson looked up from where he was sitting behind Sam. “That means we can go home tomorrow.”
~*~
Dean glanced in the rearview mirror. “That’s the plan. But I have to warn you guys, it isn’t exactly going to be the Hilton.”
Sam sighed as the woman in the back tried to hide a frown. “What Dean is trying to say, is that we can’t promise much as far as tonight’s accommodations. We have to be there first thing in the morning, and this guy appears in warehouses, so…”
Officer Carlson put on a smile. “I’m sure it will be just fine, boys. It will only be for one night, and then we’ll be going home to our families.”
Dean grimaced, and when he spoke, his voice was full of the same false cheer as Carlson’s. “That’s the plan, sir. Could use to see my family again, too.” He pulled the Impala in front of a dingy looking, abandoned building. “Here we go. Home sweet home, for tonight at least.”
Damon exited the car first and walked around, opening the door for Donna and offering her a hand. This time, she took it, her heels crunching in the gravel. Dean and Sam got out too, and led them into the warehouse where the angel was waiting in an open dock.
~*~
Sam glared at Dee over the makeshift table of stacked pallets until she stopped playing with the glass bottle and moved away to check on Mrs. Fredericks. The redhead appeared to be doing some sort of modified yoga warrior pose, despite the navy pencil skirt she was wearing. The banker attempted to smile for the blonde briefly, before bringing herself back into focus and shifting her weight into a modified triangle pose. Dee muttered something about flashing all the men in the room, but wandered away to a corner of the room to check her gun and clean her machete.
Sam shrugged while he watched Dee begin the precise and militaristic routine, then turned back to his work. The table was already laid out with the blue cloth acting as a table cover. He carefully adjusted the bowl in its stand onto the center of the table and uncorked the bottle. Then he poured a generous libation around the bowl, grimacing slightly. “What is that smell?” he asked.
Castiel came up behind him lighting one of the dried herb bundles. “The oil contains urine from a nearly extinct species of pika.” He blew out the flame and allowed the smoke to curl gently up from the bundle, making sure it continued to smolder before putting the herbs into the pot.
“Are you sure you’ll be able to manage the incantation, Cas? Latin is a dead language. A lot of people can write it, but no one really knows if the pronunciation is correct.
Cas squinted at Sam. “Enochian is the basis of all languages, ancient and modern. Yes, Sam. I am sure I can ‘manage’ the incantation just fine.”
Sam nodded and made minute adjustments to a few of the items on the table, setting the bottle of oil to the right of the bowl. “So...I guess we’re ready.”
“One ingredient is still missing,” said the angel, pulling the keys to the Impala from his trench coat pocket.
“Where did you get that?” the Winchester asked. He studied the key with its bullet keychain with a nostalgic expression, before separating the ring and removing the key.
Castiel fussed with the items on the table, “I may have removed it from Deanna’s pocket last night while she slept. I know she wants to go home, but I am not certain that she is ready to part with this without help.” The angel watched his companion stare quietly at the key for a moment. Then he cocked his head to the side, and turned to glance at Dee, who was finishing field dressing her arsenal. “She misses her brother.” Sam shrugged, his long fingers running over the key. “Dean misses you too, Sam. I’m sure he’s anxious to come home.” Sam nodded and prepared to throw the key into the bowl of smudged sage, but Cas’s arm shot out stopping him. “The whole point of the sacrifice is that it must matter to the person making the offering. Dee has to do this.”
Sam shook his head and shot a covert glance at Dee as the woman stepped up beside him. “I grew up in that car. It means something to me,” he said firmly.
“You ready?” asked Dee.
Sam’s mouth set in a grim line. “Let’s do this.” Cas took his hand from Sam’s wrist, and the taller man tossed the key into the bowl while Dee averted her eyes.
She took the oil from the table and released the cork, pouring the rest of the contents over the only access she had to her beloved Baby with a thick gulp. The coin clinked out of the glass and landed, two heads up, in in bowl. All the while, Cas intoned harsh syllables in his guttural voice. Dee lit a book of matches and held them up, watching as the angel finished the incantation with a nod. At Cas’s signal, she dropped the matches, and the contents of the bowl were consumed with an orange and green flame.
~*~
The flames reflected in green eyes, hazel eyes, and blue eyes, then without warning went out with an odd zipping sound. The hunters and the angel stared at the bowl for barely a second before sharing a glance and turning out to face the room. In a far corner, Donna Fredericks and Damon Carlson stood, their postures defensive.
The god flickered into existence a few feet in front of Sam, his form flashing in and out like an angry spirit as it tried to gain purchase on this reality. “Portunes!” he called out in a loud voice, but the god raised a hand and sent the hunter flying before he could finish his sentence.
Dean let out a howl of rage and drew his machete. “Do not kill him, Dean!” shouted Castiel, his hands reaching toward the god and his eyes glowing blue. The older hunter dropped the weapon to the floor and pulled out his gun, firing three shots into its shoulder. The god turned from Cas to face the hunter, flicking his wrist to pin Dean against the wall. Dean’s gun was thrown from his hand and slid across the floor. The angel took advantage of the distraction and began chanting in Enochian, his eyes and hands glowing white. A white aura surrounded the god, driving him to his knees.
Released from their bonds, the hunters fell to the floor. Sam collapsed into a heap, his eyes closed. Dean scrambled to his feet and ran to his brother, checking his pulse. The angel spared Dean a glance, and the hunter nodded. Then Castiel turned his full attention back on Portunes.
The angry god raised his hand and drew back his hood, one face watching the angel, the other the Winchesters. “Kill me and this keeps happening,” the head facing Castiel said. Its voice was rough and unused, but not as deep as the angel’s, or even as deep as Dean’s.
Castiel continued to stand with his palms facing the god, but the light around his hands and the deity lost some of its brightness. “You were trying to close the portal between these worlds.” It was not a question, but Portunes nodded anyway. “We’re going to need it opened again, temporarily.”
When the god nodded his assent, Castiel released his hold, although his hands did not lower as the god stood. Officer Carlson stepped forward towards the god, still shielding Donna behind him. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “You’re real.”
Donna pushed in front of him. “This is fascinating,” she said, looking between the god, the siblings crouching in the corner, the angel, and the officer next to her, “but I would like to be in my own home, in my own bed, before I try to process what has happened here today.”
~*~
Dee finally stood, walking towards the center of the room with her hands empty, palms out. “Hey, man. No hard feelings, ok? It was an honest mistake, thinking you were the cause of all this.”
The face nearest to her scowled, but the far face laughed. “You are forgiven, hunter,” it said. “You are not the first to get the better of me. Although you may be the first murderer to try to bring me back themselves.”
Sam grunted as he tried to pull himself to his feet. Dee offered a hand up, but he brushed her aside, using his own knee to push himself up. “Can you do it?” he asked the god, his voice tired, but carrying across the cavernous room. “Open the portal back up?”
The god cocked his head to the side, a smug look on both faces. “Opening the portal is easy.” He clapped his hands and the blue lights reappeared, focused on just Damon and Donna. A gray pencil skirt became navy, sleeves that had been rolled up were now down and crisply ironed. “I apologize for your inconvenience,” he said, his voice bored and disdainful. “Do be more careful in the future. I’m hardly the worst thing out there, especially now.” With another wave of his hands, the two disappeared in a blue shimmer.
“Where did they go?” asked Dee, stalking the god, machete back in her hand. “What the hell did you do to them? I swear I’ll cut your damn head off and stay here if I have to.” The woman was thrown back into the wall with a careless gesture on the god’s part, and Castiel raised his hands again, cowing the deity.
“Relax, angel, she’ll be fine,” said the closest head. “I just sent them home, hunter,” the other head said. “I’m going to let you go, and you can call them and make sure everything is to your liking.”
Dee slid to the floor again, but landed on her feet. She pulled out her phone, but Sam physically stopped her. “We have an angel on our team, Dee. He wouldn’t do anything to get himself killed, and we need him to send you home.” Dee put her phone away slowly, like a weapon she was unwilling to relinquish just yet. “What do you need to close this thing for good?” asked Sam.
The god laughed, the white lights around him receding as he stood again to his full height. He pulled his hood over his back head, turning his whole body to face the hunters now. “From you? Nothing.”
“From me?” asked Castiel, eyes glaring, mouth set in a grim line. He had lowered his hands and was no longer producing the glow that kept the gold-eyed being subdued, but his angel blade had appeared in the meantime.
Portunes turned again and inclined his head toward the angel. “Also nothing, seraphim.” He spread his hands, taking in all of the team’s spell work and smiled greedily. “You have sacrificed to me, in a place of power, on my feast day. I am reborn.” The god then dropped his hands and turned swiftly to fix the hunters with a disparaging glower, his lips turning up into a sneer as he spoke. “Although if you had managed not to cut my head off, I could have had you back home that day.”
Dee refused to back down. “Tell that to Officer Carlson, or Donna. If you could have sent me back, you could have done the same for them,” she spat.
The god only shrugged. “They would not have believed,” he said simply. “Nor, I think, would they have had an angel of the lord at their beck and call to perform the ritual that would restore me to full power.”
“Then do it,” said Castiel. “I have other work to attend to.” The god nodded and moved toward the table where the spell was set up. Castiel joined him and they were soon in whispered conversation, gesturing and moving things minutely among the ingredients.
~*~
Dean sheathed his machete in the scrub pants and double checked the safety on his gun. Sam loomed over him, his eyes wide. “So...this is it,” he whispered.
The smaller man’s movements stilled for just a moment, a muscle twitching in his jaw before he continued to ready himself for a trip back through the portal. “Guess so,” he said. His voice was strong.
“You know, I always wondered what it would be like to have a brother,” said the taller hunter, leaning his back against the wall. “You’re so much like her.”
Dean managed a half laugh at that. “Well, according to Cas over there, I am her.”
Sam leaned one foot against the wall and looked down at his folded hands. “You took care of him...me. Like a dad. Dad wasn’t...”
Dean stopped and looked at Sam, trepidation on his face. Sam was taller than him, but with his bangs falling over his sideburns and eyes, Dean could imagine he was much younger again. His eyes widened and his face softened. He stepped in front of Sam and waited until their eyes met. “And your sister took care of you like a mother, Sammy. All the shit we had to go through, Dee and I, we’d do it again, in a heartbeat.” Sam’s mouth opened, his eyes flashing with emotion as the full weight of what he was saying sank in. He nodded understanding. “Let’s not get all weepy here, brother.”
~*~
“Dee, we are ready,” called Castiel from across the room. The woman shot one last wink at Sam and patted each of her weapons to be sure they were in place before crossing to where Castiel stood.
Pale blue light from the strange fire on the table flickered over the angel’s face as Dee approached. The firelight caught her green eyes and danced there for a second. “Thanks Cas,” she whispered, “for everything.”
Castiel inclined his head in her direction. “Dean is necessary to our world, as I’m certain you are in yours.” Dee looked down at the floor, her cheeks turning pink. She shot an offended look at the fire before meeting the angel’s gaze again.
“Listen, Cas… There’s another Castiel in my world, you know?” She paused to give him time to react, but he said nothing, his blue eyes locked on her green ones. “Alright. Well. I just,” she huffed a breath and fussed a hand through her hair. “Thanks for risking, you know… For me. Humanity. Whatever.” She searched Castiel’s face for any indication that he heard, but the angel just stared impassively. “My mom always said that angels were watching over me. And I kind of thought, growing up, it was a bunch of crap.” One corner of Castiel’s mouth turned down, but he made no move to interrupt. “But when shit went down, you did watch out for me. Sam and I don’t need ‘angels’ watching over us, Cas. We just needed one.” Dee looked down, breaking the staring contest, although Castiel continued to gaze at her. “What I’m trying to say is… If that Dean and I are so important, we couldn’t have done it...we wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you.” She looked up at his face, but wouldn’t meet his eyes. After a second’s hesitation, she took a step towards the angel, raised herself on her toes, and kissed his cheek. “We’re always gonna need our angel, Cas,” she said, cementing a grin underneath strained eyes as she turned and walked toward the blue lights. Just as she reached the lights, she turned back, the grin on her face real and cocky. “See you later, flyboy.”
Sam was staring at her, trying to take in the display, when she caught his eye. “See you soon, Sammy.” She took another step until the edges of the blue light were skating over her skin. “And cut your damn hair, it’s longer than mine!” With that parting shot, she stepped through the lights, and Dean Winchester came out the other side.
The hunter rolled his shoulders in relief, his eyes searching for his brother. “Sammy?” he asked, his voice thick with hope.
A smile spread over the younger man’s face as he strode over to him, his arms wide in welcome until he reached Dean, wrapping them tight around his older brother. “You’re home.” The two embraced for a moment, oblivious to the onlookers.
Dean’s fingers curled into his brother’s t-shirt, and his eyes shone in what was left of the dying firelight. “Yeah, thanks to you,” he said.
Sam clapped his hand against Dean’s back brusquely twice before grabbing him by the shoulders and holding him at arm’s length. “You’re ok,” he observed, with half a smile. “You were a girl, Dean, it was so freaking weird.”
Dean smirked. “Yeah well, imagine for me. You were you, but you didn’t even know me. Damn, Sammy.” He took a second to consider. “You could have been a girl though,” he said, swatting at the taller brother’s hair.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Will you stop calling me ‘Sammy’ already?” Dean shrugged, his eyes full of mischief. “Besides, that’s practically what she said just before she left. Right, Cas?”
Both brothers turned to look at the angel, who had been intently studying the reunion with a strange look on his face. Dean’s cheeks tinged red. “Thanks, man,” he said, reaching out to shake Castiel’s hand, “We couldn’t have gotten her home without you...well, that you. I’m sure I wouldn’t be here without you-you.” The angel kept staring, and eventually Dean put his hand back down. “So, it must have been weird having a girl here instead of me,” Dean started, a hint of strain in his voice. “Chicks can be weird. All over emotional and stuff. I don’t know. Crazy right?”
Cas stood straighter, his expression flattening out to one of impatient indifference. “As you say, Dean. It is good to have you back.”
“Thanks for your help, Castiel,” said Sam. “I guess, we’ve got work to do.”
“Son of a bitch!” said Dean, body slumping to the floor. Sam looked at him, confused. “Baby, Sam,” he lamented, reading the question in his brother’s face. “I can’t drive her anymore. She’s just gonna’ rust here. Her keys are gone.”
Sam sighed. “You’ve pulled her apart enough times, Dean. You know where to find her key codes. We’ll have it replaced. I’m sure we can be out of here in a few days if you can get someone to lend you the right tools.”
Portunes rose from where he’d been leaning against a support column. “I really shouldn’t, considering it was a sacrifice and all,” he said lazily, rolling his eyes, at least on the head that could be seen, “but I suppose, since I haven’t really been at full power in almost 150 years, I could offer you a boon.” He reached into the last of the blue flames which extinguished at his touch, and pulled out the twisted lump of metal that was all that remained of the Impala’s keys. His hands closed around it, and blue light leaked from between his fingers. When he opened his hands again, the key was new again. He held it out to Dean who stood to take it, but pulled it back at the last second. “Two conditions, Winchester.”
“What?”
“First, don’t cut any more god’s heads off, unless you actually know what they’re doing.” Dean rolled his eyes but nodded. “Second, save this world. I don’t even want to think about what happens to me if one aspect of me gets destroyed completely, cut off from all the others. Can you do that?”
Dean looked at Sam, whose mouth was set into a grim line as he nodded. He turned to Castiel, who clenched his right fist below the sleeve of his trenchcoat, a reminder of the weapon he could pull out of thin air. When his gaze met Portunes again, his head twitched to the side for just a second before settling on the man’s gaze. “I honestly don’t know,” he said. “But we’re sure as hell going to try.”
The god with the golden eyes nodded, and dropped the keys into the green-eyed human’s hand before disappearing.
“Hey Cas, so what do you say we go and get a-“ Dean’s voice cut off abruptly as he noticed the angel had disappeared. “Or not,” he scoffed. “Suit yourself.” He looked up at his brother. “Come on, Sam,” he said, clutching the Impala’s keys tightly in his fist, as if he was afraid they would be taken away from him again. “I want to try one of those pork roll sandwiches before we leave here.”