Requiem for Snow
Title: Requiem for Snow
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: None
Warnings: Language, mild violence
Word Count: 8722
Notes: This story follows canon up to Changing Channels - sort of - and borrows chunks of the rest of Season Five completely at random. This story has no beta. Chapter title from the song by Avril Lavigne.
Trailer 1 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8LXZM9nRC4
Trailer 2 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wijPDaRc9iA
Summary: The January before he went to Hell, Dean and his brother Sam faced the Last Calusa in Key West, Florida. Following the defeat of this ancient curse, the brothers left, barreling straight into their destiny and the inevitable showdown against Lilith and her minions. But what they assumed was just another hunt was actually a key part in the plans of the Apocalypse. A plan not laid by the powers below, but by the ones up above.
Summary this chapter:Sam and Dean head to Maryland after the search for Jo reaches a dead end and stumble upon the odd case of Noah Levin. Heather gets paired with Nate for a project with English... and ends up making a friend. Gabriel and Castiel summon Melpomene - and after getting a few answers, the archangel sends Cas away before going further with the interrogation - and finally picks a side. Sam and Dean come to a conclusion about Noah after a brief conversation and Heather reaches a turning point that she didn't expect.
Dean tossed the several Target bags onto his bed in the motel, frowning. He and Sam had spent the better part of the past three weeks tracking down possible leads and gathering information on the demon Ellen and Jo had been tracking. The motel the Harvelles had been staying at was a dead end - half of it had burned to the ground two days before New Year's Eve... their room had been among the destroyed. Although Jo was listed as missing from the motel - as they'd not found any part of her in the room. Ellen, however - they'd found just enough of her body to identify it - the rest had been burned to ash. The fire had claimed six other lives - two kids were among the dead. It was all bad and he and Sam had left the area, moving southward, into Maryland. The trail on the demon was cold and they knew Jo could be anywhere by now. So here they were, already onto another case that might be nothing or something major. “Remind me again why we're here.” He sat down on the bed and started to remove his boots.
Sam rubbed his eyes tiredly. He'd stayed behind in the motel to do more research. “Yeah... about a month ago, a flight left O'Hare Airport in Chicago for Ronald Regan here in DC... two days later, passengers from that plane started heading to hospitals, all suffering from the same malady...” He bent down, unzipped his backpack and dug out a file folder. “A week later, nine of the passengers and two crew members were dead. Four were elderly, three already had some other kind of illness and the remaining four well, they're still working on that one...” He leaned across the bed and held the folder out to his brother. “The following week, three more people were dead - they already had some other form of illness also - but the rest of the passengers have started to recover and they've traced who they think is patient zero back to Chicago - the airline worker who was scanning tickets at the gate. Trouble is, she's also dead.”
“Still not getting this Sam...” Dean opened the folder, flipping through a few newspaper clippings.
“The plane was a fully loaded seven-forty-seven... there were four hundred and sixteen passengers, ten crew members... and all but one of them have been into the hospital for some form of treatment.”
“One person?” Dean looked up, skeptical. “That's odd.”
“Yeah. The two random dead passengers were sitting on either side of the guy.”
“That's...” He shook his head. “What the hell...”
“The passenger is one Noah Levin. He's a professor at Georgetown University.”
“Maybe he's just lucky.” Dean shrugged his shoulders. “What is it they say, at least twenty-five percent of the population is immune to any given illness? What'd they all have, anyway?”
“They still haven't identified the disease, but they think it's a new strain of meningitis.”
“That can't be good.” He set the folder down and rubbed his eyes. “But let me guess, there's more.”
“Yeah. The only sick people reported from the second-busiest airport in the country were that gate attendant and that one flight.”
“Now that's definitely not normal.” Dean knew all to well how fast illnesses could spread - when he was eight, the chicken pox ran rampant through the school he was attending - he'd been fortunate to have already had the dread illness, but half the student population was out faster than his dad had gotten halfway through the research for the hunt he was on at the time. He finished toeing off his boots. “So I take it you want to go talk to the good professor.”
“Yeah. Though odds are, this guy's going to be smart enough to see through just about any disguise.”
Dean snorted and started digging clean clothes from his bag. “What makes you say that?”
“Dean, he's got a damn doctoral degree in Mathematics from Yale - odds are, if this guy wasn't part of the equation, he'd be one helping the CDC and the FBI and who knows all figure out the math on this. Hell, the CDC has probably already put the guy through a regime of testing to find out why he's not sick.”
“Great, so how old is this guy, sixty?”
“Try thirty-nine.” Sam replied.
“He married?”
“Divorced...” Leaning over, Sam took the folder back and flipped back through it. “He has one kid, a ten year old boy named Wesley who lives with him - but this past Christmas, he spent the holiday with his mom in New York. Guess where the good professor was?”
“Let me guess... not in Chicago.” Dean dug out the smaller bag that held his toiletries.
“Right. He was with his sister and her family.... in Sioux Falls.”
“As in, South Dakota...”
“Yeah, the same time we were there.” He shook his head. “Crazy...”
“No kidding.” Dean turned and headed for the bathroom. “I don't suppose you've come up with a cover story for us yet...”
“Still working on it.” Sam said as his brother shut the door and turned on the shower.
*
'Working on it' turned out to entail Dean leaving Sam alone to do more research. Hating the quiet of the motel room he'd left to go repair the Winchester Family Finances. Given that it wasn't a Friday night, the bars weren't terribly crowded, but there were still plenty of people to hustle in a game or five of pool. By the time he got back however, it was late and he fully expected to find Sam asleep. Instead, he found his brother still awake, staring at his laptop and pulling on his bottom lip, thinking. Not saying anything, he set the small bag of groceries he'd forgotten to get at the store earlier down on the table and, after putting the half-gallon of milk from the bag into the in-room fridge, his brother had shifted in his chair, looking pensive.
“What's up with you?” Dean frowned.
“I think I may have an idea on how we can talk to the good professor...” He sighed. “But I don't think you're going to like it.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I think our best bet may be posing as workers from the Middleton Institute.”
“The Middleton Institute?” Dean sat down on his bed and started to take off his boots. “What's that?”
“An organization that helps adopted kids find their birth families.”
Dean glanced up. “Somehow I don't think those are the sort of people who come and knock on your front door, Sammy.”
“I think I have it worked out...” He set his pen down and rubbed his face. “Besides, maybe Cas can help with actually finding the guy's birth family... if he's got anything to tell us.”
“You dig anything up on the good professor anyway?”
“Let's see...” Sam opened a file on his laptop. “There's not much I could find - most of the networks around here are way to secure to hack into... and not get caught. Noah Levin, born May nineteenth, nineteen seventy. Teaches mathematics at Georgetown, doctorate at Yale, undergrad at Stanford... a few published works in various academic journals...” He frowned. “His parents live in Tucson, Arizona.”
“Great, a class-A brain.” Dean said, not sitting up.
“No kidding.... Dr. Levin has a little bit of a following in the world of academia.” Sam snorted. “I took a look at it, but most of the things I don't understand.” He shook his head.
“So if he's here and his parents aren't that far away, what's his sister doing in Sioux Falls?”
“I had a feeling you'd ask that...” He took a deep breath. “She's an English teacher...at Patrick Henry.”
That made Dean sit up. “Heather's school?”
“That's right.” He shook his head. “You compare the two siblings and it's complete opposites...then again, both of the Levin children were adopted.”
“You got a picture of the professor?” He stood and came over to the table.
“Sure.” He turned the laptop towards him.
Dean frowned at the thin main with brown hair and hazel eyes. “That's funny...”
“What?”
“You know how you look at some people and they seem familiar somehow...” He titled the angle of the laptop.
Sam looked at the screen and frowned - and he saw it too. “You're right. That's weird... maybe its his haircut...”
“Could be.” He shrugged and went to change into his sleep clothes.
**
Heather was relieved it was Friday. This week had seemed almost endless. She settled into her seat, only half listening to the conversations around her. When she'd talked to Bobby about the problem with the boy and the car, he'd called over to his neighbors and they had vehemently denied that their son would do such a thing. Heather had been sort of glad at that moment that the old hunter was confined to a wheel chair because he looked mad enough to shoot someone. So he'd told her to be extra careful on the road - and wait until Sam and Dean got back to do more about the situation.
“All right class...” Rachel Fasci's voice cut through Heather's musings and she turned her attention towards the teacher. “As you know, this is second semester English... and I know it's time for the assignment you've all been looking forward to.” An audible groan came up from at least half the class. “Now, I know you'll change your minds once you get started.” The teacher kept smiling as she started to write on the board. “Although I learned two things from the diorama project the last two years...” She set the chalk down after writing the date March 19, 2010 on the board. “And that is assigned partners... and limiting it to one diorama per book.”
Heather remained quiet as the rest of the class seemed to erupt around her. The assignment seemed logical to her. She figured there were around two hundred seventh graders in the school and who wanted to see twenty-five dioramas on the same book, with half of them probably being the same scene? She heard the teacher call order and the grumbling slowly quieted down, though the mutinous looks continued.
“I've already drawn up the pairs - there will be no switching partners, unless there is a valid argument for it. Stating that you don't want to work with someone because they are not in your circle of friends isn't one of them.” She gave the class a very sharp look, one Heather took to mean It's time to grow up. “I want you to spend this period talking with your partner and, if possible, chose the book you would like to do. Once you've had a talk about what you would like to do, please come up and turn in at least three books you would like to use. To be fair to the other classes, your books will be assigned on Wednesday. You have until the end of the day Monday to turn your list in. I want to remind you, again, that this is seventy percent of your grade this semester.”
Heather took a quick look around the room, realizing that the teacher was starting with the name Andrews - she was going in alphabetical order by last names, but that's not what she was looking for. She counted up the number of girls and boys in the class - an even fifteen. That meant there had to be at least one pair that would be boy-girl. The only thought that went through her mind was - please don't let me be matched up with a Twihard. Laughter started ringing out as a scrawny boy in the third row was paired up with an equally scrawny girl in the fifth. More laughter as several other boy-girl pairings were given out and even Heather found herself chuckling just a little. Of course, she stopped laughing when her name was said and followed by Nathan Turabian. She glanced around and saw the boy she'd seen at church looking rather disgruntled. When the teacher finished listing names - only two followed Heather's - someone with the last name of McCormick and another of Nessim - the students started to move. Rather than waiting for her to move, Nathan came over and plunked himself into the desk Johnathan had vacated and turned it towards her.
This was not the news that Nate had wanted - at all. Being assigned a partner was one thing, but being assigned the new kid? Having only seen her in church, the only thing he could tell about her was that she had a nice singing voice - but taking her out of the context he usually saw her in, all he could see was a timid and very sad looking girl. She'd barely said a thing in the three weeks she'd been here. He sighed and opened his notebook - he'd actually had this diorama planned out from almost the moment he first heard about the project - he even had planned on asking Joe Lowery, the resident book geek, to be his partner - knowing he could bully the meeker classmate into agreeing with him on everything. That, of course, went straight out the window, because odds were, Heather hadn't read The Dangerous Days of Daniel X. “I'm not doing Twilight.”
Heather blinked. “I should hope not. I wouldn't do that unless there was serious bribe involved.” Irritation was starting to kick in - her assumption of Nate from church was that he was at least a decent guy - but that was rapidly depleting. “I'm Heather, by the way, nice to meet you, Nathan.”
“It's Nate.” He gave her a pointed look. “I don't want to be rude, but I've been looking forward to this project all year and my plans just got ruined, so excuse me if I'm upset. This is a huge thing to me, so it'd really mean a lot to me if you'd just follow along with the plans I've already made... so...”
“Excuse me?” She gave him a disgusted look. “But who the hell died and made you Lead Traveler?”
“No one... I just...” He stopped. “Wait, you've read Pendragon?”
“Shouldn't everyone?”
This changed things - a lot. “Well... yeah.” He tapped his notebook with his pen.
“How big are these dioramas supposed to be anyway? Like shoe-box size or what?”
“Uh...” He folded his arms and set them on the desk. “There's not a standard size, my mom got a new dishwasher back in October and I snagged the box from that - so that's....”
“That's pretty big yeah...” Heather bit her lip, thinking. “We could probably pull off the Tato match from The Quillian Games - all we need is a hubcap, some fishing line, two action figures... and a lot of paint.”
A grin slowly started to form on Nate's face. “If you can pull off the platform, I can definitely get the inside of the box done...” He frowned. “But we should have back ups, just in case....”
Heather felt herself smiling, ideas clicking into place. “Simple, do the Mouraj Training Camp from Rivers of Zadaa - just need a lot of cardboard and sandpaper...”
“What about doing Solara from Soldiers of Halla - I'm not talking with all the Travelers, but maybe with just Bobby and Uncle Press?”
“That could work too...” She frowned. “It'd take a lot of cotton balls, though...”
Nate wrote the three down on the paper, feeling much better than he had when he first heard Ms. Fasci's announcement. Maybe, just maybe - a few weeks from now - because there's no way he's going to bring it up any time sooner - he can find out who her angel friend is.
Heather bit her lip before speaking again. “Uh Nate, I've not been down to the library yet.. do you know if they have the series here?”
“No, they don't.” He rolled his eyes. “Plenty of really old stuff though...” He leaned back in his seat. “Don't you have a copy of the series?”
“I... I used to.” She rubbed her nose, looking down at her notebook.
Nate could tell just by looking that something was wrong and he bit off the question of asking if her parents had accidentally given it away. He frowned and leaned forward. “Uh... what happened to it? If you don't mind me asking...”
Heather glanced up. “It got destroyed in a fire... the only book I've still got is my copy of Raven Rise.”
“That sucks, I'm sorry...” He'd be devastated if he lost his entire book collection too. “But you'll get new copies, right? I mean, insurance and stuff...”
“I... I don't think so...” Heather didn't want to discuss this - least of all with a stranger. She winced as she felt her eyes tear up.
“Oh, crap...please don't cry... I hate it when girls cry...” He leaned over onto the counter next to him and set the Kleenex box on her desk.
“Thanks.” She took one and sniffled.
“Your parents send you here to Sioux Falls while they work on recovery or something?”
“Something...” She swallowed and looked down again, hating the tears stains she saw on her notebook.
“Damn... I can't imagine how hard that must be...” Nate was thinking of his own house, with all the things he was familiar with - and then it being gone. Hell, he didn't blame her for crying. Although why her parents weren't going to be replacing her lost books he couldn't imagine. Then a thought sprang into his mind and it horrified him - What if there are no parents to replace them? He swallowed again, hating how unnerved he was getting. “Look, I'm sorry I snapped at you at the beginning.”
“It's okay.” Heather took a deep breath and looked up. “I'll be okay.”
“I'm... I'm sorry about... you know...” He made a weak gesture. “About your books... and your... your other stuff.”
“Thanks.” She replied and she meant it. She wasn't sure if Nate had figured out that it was more than just books she'd lost.
Nate spoke before he could stop himself. “Is that why you have that angel with you in church?”
“Sort of.” She hauled up her bag as the bell rang. “I don't want to talk about it.”
“Sure.” Nate replied as he tossed the box of tissues back to where it was originally and started to gather up his own things. Heather was already gone by the time he looked up. “Damn...” He barely registered his friend Luke whining about being stuck with doing something from Harry Potter. He had to wonder if that set of books had also been lost in the fire at Heather's house. He had the overwhelming urge to tell his friend to shut up.
***
Sam and Dean stepped into the back of the lecture hall, noting the few students in the back row who turned and glanced at him and then went back to paying attention to the professor. Given the area, Sam figured the kids were used to seeing men in suits constantly. He stood under the clock, keeping his focus on the man down at the front of the room. A small wave of nostalgia swept over him and it almost made him long for Stanford again. Of course, one look at the equations on the board and he was knew instantly that not majoring in statistics was a good thing.
“All right...” Noah set down the chalk and turned towards the class. “The theory goes that every person on this planet is connected to everyone else by no less than six people. The Internet itself is largely to take the credit for this. Just as everyone you went to high school with is connected to everyone in this classroom, so to is everyone in your mafia on Facebook.” The class let out a general chuckle at that. “The theory also states that in fifty years, given the spread of technology, the connection between people could go down to four people.” He leaned against the long lab table at the front of the area he was speaking in. “To give you an example of this, is anyone here from South Dakota?” Noah looked over his seventy students and got no response. “Anyone know anyone in South Dakota?”
Several people raised their hands and the brothers exchanged glances, but didn't move.
Noah took note of the man under the clock and checked the time before continuing. “Sioux Falls?”
Sam and a student in the middle of the classroom kept their hands raised. “All right...” He glanced at the seating chart. “Nadia, is it?”
“Yes.” The girl replied.
“Do you know anyone at Patrick Henry Middle School?”
“No.”
“That's okay, this will still work....” He started to pace. “It's currently quarter to eleven here and a quarter of ten in Sioux Falls. In exactly five minutes I'm going to let you all out of here to go do whatever it is for your next class, have lunch... I don't know where you're going, but you're leaving here. When I let you out of this classroom, my sister is going to be letting thirty seventh graders out of her classroom for their next class. That's thirty kids you don't know... but my sister knows them, I know my sister and you know me. If you take in all two hundred of my sister's students and the fact that she probably knows all six hundred students in that school... that's a lot of kids you don't know, but yet you share a connection too.” He shut his lesson plan book. “Think about this also... in four years, any ninth grader at my sister's school could be sitting in this classroom... and for him or her, the connection to that school is already one degree...and as it is the weekend... all I can say is be prepared for a possible pop quiz on Monday on the first part of chapter six.”
Dean winced slightly. “Are all college professors like this?”
“Not any I had.” Sam replied. “Then again, I never took statistics.”
They waited for the students to file out of the classroom and watched as Professor Levin started packing up his things before heading down to the bottom of the lecture hall. “Noah Levin?”
Noah turned and put down the eraser. “Yes?”
“I'm Nick Shaw, from the Middleton Institute...” Dean nodded to his brother. “This is James Parkington. I don't know if my supervisor called you or not... cell service has been sketchy as of late.”
“Uh, no...” Noah came over to the table, studying the two men with a slight frown. “I was unaware you made calls like this.”
“It's not routine.” Sam said, holding out his hand for the man to shake, which he did. “Just a few questions, that's all.”
“More questions.” Noah smiled faintly. “Seems that's all I do lately, answer questions.”
“I know the feeling.” Sam said as Dean shook the man's hand as well and he took out a small notebook and set it on the table. “Now, you and your sister were both adopted, correct?”
“Yes.” Noah leaned against the table, frowning. “Different agencies were used... all I know about my natural parents was that one was of English and Welsh decent and one of Greek...” He frowned when he saw Nick Shaw give him an odd glance. “Is there something wrong? This should all be in my file.”
“Oh, it's just routine, sir.” Sam set his pen down.
“Anything else you're aware of, about the adoption.”
“I'm not really looking for my birth family to establish a relationship... yes, I'm open to it, but if they want to be left alone, I respect that. I just want to know where I come from. I'm guessing that they were only doing what was best, leaving me in that hospital and walking out... or so I assume.”
“Meaning?” Dean thought this story sounded somewhat familiar. He and Sam had exchanged glances at the mention of 'Greek' heritage.
“You must be new.” Noah shook his head and started putting things in his bag. “According to what I was told, a nurse found me in a cardboard box with blankets under a chair in Mount Sinai Hospital in New York City.”
“Really?” Sam picked up his notebook.
Noah stretched his arms to the side, gripping the table. “I actually didn't start thinking about it until recently... are either of you adopted?”
“No.” Dean replied.
“Then you don't know what it's like... you see strangers on a train and wonder if they know your parents, especially if they give you an odd look like they know you and they don't. Then you wonder about that family that does know where you come from... and maybe they know you exist...” He took a deep breath. “My mom has always said I am far to curious for my own good. She still says its a good thing my dad talked me out of forensic science because I'd be working my way through every cold case in the FBI's files.”
“There's no harm in searching, Mr. Levin.” Dean clicked his pen and he heard footsteps hurrying down the stairs.
“Excuse me, Dr. Levin.” Another student stood there, looking slightly winded.
“Jeremy, you didn't run all the way here, did you?”
“If I'd have walked, I would have missed you.” He opened his bag and pulled out a file folder. “Here.” He held it out.
Noah took it. “Thank you for doing this.”
“No problem... I mean, my aunt did sell you the house in the first place.” He grinned and headed back up the stairs. “Let me know if you need anything else!”
Sam frowned. “Some thing wrong with your house, Mr. Levin?”
Noah shoved the folder into his briefcase. “Not that I care to discuss. We finished?”
“Yeah...if we need any more information we will call you.” Dean said, trying to appear nonchalant.
“Thank you.” He shouldered his bag, picked up his coat and started up the stairs.
Sam waited until the man was gone to speak. “You think he's like Heather?”
“Highly likely... abandoned in a hospital... makes you wonder how they knew he was partially Greek.”
“Maybe there was information in the box with him, or something.” They started up the stairs. “If he is... then that could explain why he didn't get sick.”
“It makes me wonder just what else he's immune to.” As they reached the top of the stairs, they turned into the flow of traffic, heading for the exit. “Still doesn't explain why he looks familiar...I mean, not like Muse familiar, more familiar than that...”
“I don't think the question now is why is he immune - but why the illness happened in the first place.” Sam said as they went out into the cold January air.
***
“I still do not understand why you think the Muses would be aware of what Lucifer is doing.” Castiel frowned as he handed Gabriel another container of salt.
“Call it a hunch.” The archangel sighed. “Besides, it can't have escaped your notice that the Muses don't exactly volunteer information.”
The angel merely tilted his head in response. “I suppose that is true.”
“Don't worry, it's not so much Lucifer I want to know about, but rather what they haven't been telling us.” Gabriel started to pour a long thin line of salt in an even pattern on the floor. “I already know what our brother is up to, somewhat. I know that he raised Famine almost a month ago and let that Horseman loose in South America. The reason it's been quiet on that front is because he's working through isolated villages that don't have easy contact with the outside world.” He finished making the last of the lines. “And before you ask, I've considered going after Horseman, but Lucifer is staying close by him - and I really don't feel like getting killed.”
Castiel stepped outside of the many rings of sea salt and goofer dust carefully so he wouldn't disturb any of their work, being particularly careful when it came to the ring of holy oil at the half way point, and upon reaching the outer ring, started adding various herbs to a dish. “Gabriel, may I ask you something?”
The archangel made his way back to stand next to Castiel. “I know what you want to know, little brother... if I was to chose one word for how our father is, I would say that he's very...” He paused, thinking. “Melancholy - or he was, last I saw him. It pains him to see the things he loves acting the way they do.” He set down the empty container. “It hurts, Castiel... to know that we should all care about one another yet so many suffer.”
“Why doesn't he put an end to the suffering?”
“If he did that, Castiel... then there would be no point in living.” He took the dish of herbs and set it down between to of the rings. “There's just going to be one problem with this.”
“Which is?”
“Muses are never happy about being summoned anywhere.” Gabriel snorted. “This used to be much easier.” He shook his head and took the bowl from him and went and set it on the floor. He crouched down, holding his hand over the bowl and started to chant softly in Enochian. A flash of flame flickered down from the archangel's fingertips and landed dead center of the herbs, causing the mixture to flare up once and then, the center ring of holy oil ignited as a gust of wind filled the room, breaking all the lines but the one of fire. When the grit, dust and salt settled, Gabriel stood up and smirked at the trapped figure roughly ten feet from him and Castiel. “Good morning, Melpomene.”
The Muse glared at him and then flicked her eyes at Castiel before speaking. “You have something against telephones, Gabriel?”
“I prefer to do some things the old fashioned way.” He folded his arms. “We catch you at a bad time?” The muse was garbed in a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a tank shirt.
The muse stood, arms akimbo. “Not really... fortunately, I was already awake.” She glanced at Castiel. “By the way, Claire says hi and yes, she's doing exactly as you asked.”
The angel frowned. “That is not why we called you here.”
“I didn't think so.” She flicked her gaze back to Gabriel. “You're the ones who summoned me, since neither of you are mortals, I'll just skip the pedagogy that normally occurs and just ask, how may I help you today?”
“Civility.” Gabriel snorted. “Melpomene, I am surprised at you.”
“Oh I'm plenty pissed, right now...” She sighed. “But as I left my weapons at home and you have me at a disadvantage, if I play nicely you'll let me out of here sooner.”
“Why is Lucifer kidnapping women?” Castiel said, with no preamble.
“Is he?” Melpomene frowned. “How many have gone missing?”
“Don't play stupid, Muse.” Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “I know you know something.”
“What makes you say I would know why your brother is doing what he is?”
“Because you were there when Michael shoved him into the cage the first time.” For the briefest of moments his eyes flashed with their true color. “You had to have seen something - and don't answer with a riddle.”
“Oh that's actually a very easy thing to answer - your brother Lucifer is a hypocrite.” She smirked. “And my sister Persephone was an unfaithful windbag.”
For a moment the two angels stared at her - one in confusion and the other in shock. “Wait....” Gabriel started. “You mean... the two of them....”
“Yeah.” She flicked her gaze to Castiel. “I don't know if this conversation is fit for his almost-innocent ears.” She smirked as she saw a faint tinge of red appear on the angels' cheeks. “Have you heard where Dean took him before they went and talked to Raphael?”
“This is not the time to discuss this...” Gabriel had caught the flash of memory from Castiel and was doing his best not to laugh. “Just... what is he doing with the women?”
“Well, my assumption would be that he's going to try and bring Persephone back - and for that he needs a body... and nine sacrifices. I do not know what his criteria for choosing them is, or where he's keeping them.”
“Persephone is dead then?”
“Very.” She squared her shoulders as Castiel seemed to regain his composure. “The only trouble is, she is not where he would assume her to be.”
“Where is she?” Castiel asked, frowning.
“The Oblivion.” She let her shoulders slump. “Now, is there anything else I can answer for you?”
Gabriel was still trying to process the fact that his brother who despised anything that was not of his Father or angels sleeping with a pagan god that he almost didn't notice when Castiel spoke again.
“Is what Erato told me true?”
“What did Atty tell you?” She looked genuinely confused, having not talked to that particular sister recently.
“About why your and two of your sister's children can see angels.”
“If she told you what I think she told you, then yes it is.” She moved her arms so that they were behind her back, one wrist held with the other. “Now that Cori's finished puking her guts out, she's feeling much better... now if we can just get to stop trying to scrub her skin off, she should be good.” She glanced at Gabriel. “I take it you already told your big brother here.”
“About you drinking Apollo's blood, yes.” He inwardly smirked, rather pleased he'd known something the archangel hadn't.
“Did you mention both parts, or could you not bring your almost-innocent mouth to say something as vulgar as sex?”
“I would greatly appreciate it if you would not mock me, Muse.” Castiel glowered at her. “I still do not see how your children are able to do it, as Erato told me...”
Several windows shattered in the abandoned warehouse and Melpomene's eyes went solid blue. “It has to be consensual, asshole.”
Gabriel looked from his brother to the Muse. “Cas, I think we've learned what we needed to here...” He snapped his fingers and sent him away to somewhere in the vicinity of the Singer Salvage Yard. Now alone with Melpomene, he relaxed ever so slightly. “You may be onto something with his innocent ears.”
The muse folded her arms, eyes back to normal, sighing. “I take it you want to know more.”
“Well for one, I'd like to know how Apollo is still breathing, if he's done what I think he has.”
“The only reason he's still wasting oxygen is the fact that maman hasn't decided yet how to kill him. Although I think she may finally be settling on the liquid nitrogen and the cake knife.”
The archangel started to walk around the ring of holy oil, frowning. “So I take it the other rumor is true too, yes?”
“Which one? I know lots of rumors.”
“You and Michael.”
“That's only mostly true. He's not going to come down to my level, I know that for sure and certain.” She sighed. “You know Castiel's probably going to be pretty pissed with you, yes?”
“I don't care.” He stopped, glancing at her. “So why don't you tell me how Lucifer intends to open a portal into the neither-realm of Elysium... no angel and no demon can do it.”
“I told Dean that the ability to see angels was both a blessing and a curse. The children who can see them can open the portal... but only on a certain day and in a certain location.” She rubbed her face, starting to feel rather warm trapped in the fire. “I don't suppose you'd let me out of here so we can talk like more civilized beings, would you?”
“I don't trust you not to run and I don't trust myself not to attack.” Gabriel sighed. “I don't know what will happen if Lucifer has that portal opened and Persephone is not there.”
“Odds are, the souls in that realm would be sent to the oblivion.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “There's a lot of good people in there.”
“I know.” Gabriel started pacing - he knew that Elysium held the souls of those who were good, yet knew nothing of his Father and those who were forced into evil against their will. Why they were refused Heaven, he did not know. “Knowing the Winchesters, they'd actually try and shove his ass in there... and he can't be in that realm.”
“Well, then, if you'd like to join in on the newly revised Apocalypse Plan D, you're more than welcome to.”
“Plan D?” He arched an eyebrow at her. “Now this I've not heard...”
“It's tricky, dangerous... and still requires the Winchester brother's consent, but it's a plan that Lucifer doesn't know.”
“What does this entail?”
“Reopening Lucifer's cage with the Horseman rings and the portal into Elysium at the same time... since Psyche is the keeper of that gate, she could, if asked, be able to pull Sam Winchester's soul out of his body and then slam the door shut behind him - then Michael can shove Lucifer back into Hell or kill him. I'm thinking he's leaning towards the former. The soul of that poor man he's in now is almost completely burned away into nothing.”
“You aren't honestly going to ask your daughter to open up that portal, are you?” He was stunned. “How is the person who opens the portal supposed to not get sucked in there?”
“Who said anything about asking Heather?” She let out a deep breath. “If they fall in there body and soul, they can more or less walk right back out... or fall out, as the case may be...from what I understand, getting in there isn't like storming the gates of Hell.”
“Horseman rings, huh?” Gabriel knew how that worked, of course. “You are aware how dangerous this whole plan is, yes?”
“It's all dangerous, Gabriel.” She started to rub her shoulders. “But if you just want to sit back and watch it all fall apart, you're more than welcome.”
Gabriel moved until he was directly in front of her, separated by the ring of flame. “I just want it to be over.”
“I know you do.” She hugged herself, the fire starting to irritate her eyes. “But if you just want to sit back, pull pranks and go out with a smile, that's your own prerogative.”
“You don't know a damn thing about it...”
“How do you think my mother feels about this? Quite frankly, she doesn't know why Lucifer doesn't just suck it up and be a big boy, but that's my mom being an adult.”
“Shut your cake-hole.” He growled and started to pace again, although he was in full agreement with his sister on the matter of Lucifer growing up. “You do know that if we put the Devil back in the box, it just postpones everything.”
“Yes, but perhaps if we pull this off, all you lovely angels can have all your ducks in a row before you let Lucifer out the next time.”
Gabriel dug a candy bar out of his coat pocket and unwrapped it, frowning. “I wasn't there, in case you haven't noticed.”
“I know, Loki.” She pinched the bridge of her nose.
He munched on the bar, grinning slightly as he realized she'd used his more common name, thinking. “Suppose I did agree to help with this idea... how long do we have?”
“We have until March twenty-seventh.”
“Where?”
“Bethel, New York.” She let out a deep breath. “I don't suppose you have a second one of those, do you?” She indicated the chocolate bar. “I've not had any breakfast.”
Gabriel glowered at her for a moment, but then reached into his coat pocket and tossed a Snickers Bar across the flames and she caught it. “Bethel...” He thought a moment. “Wait... that's where Woodstock was held.”
“Yes.” She unwrapped the bar. “Thank you for the chocolate.” She took a large bite, manners be damned.
“Woodstock...” He grinned faintly. “That... was one hell of a party.”
“You went too?” She said after swallowing her bite of candy.
“Anyone who didn't missed it.” He took another bite of his own bar. “I take it you know where the gatekeeper is.”
“Sure, he's in Potomac, Maryland.” She shook her head. “Clio already knows all about this, so please don't make her more worried than she already is.”
Gabriel swallowed and smirked. “I suppose I can gank a horseman...but if Dean and Sam play their roles, who's going to be opening up the cage?”
“Michael opened the cage once, he can open it again.” She took a smaller bite of chocolate.
“Well, why not....” He finished his bar of candy and stuffed the wrapper into his pocket. “Famine should be moving north soon... but I think I'll wait until I can get a fix on Pestilence instead.”
“All help is welcome at this point...”
“Just as long as Michael understands that I'm only doing this to postpone the fight, not feed it. I do this, he agrees to put Lucifer back in his cage instead of killing him.”
“I'll pass the message along, or you can tell him yourself next time you see him.” She finished her own bar of chocolate. “Between you and me, I don't think he's going to object.”
“Whatever works.” He went across the room and picked up a bucket of water. “Might as well let you out now...” He threw the water at the base of the flames and it skimmed across the cement floor, extinguishing the fire.
Melpomene let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“Don't thank me yet, we still have a long way to go.” He said as she stepped out of the burnt circle. “Just in case this doesn't work in Bethel...if it's not ready in time... where's the contingency location?”
“That would be Key West, Florida - on May second.” She rolled her shoulders. “The door can only be opened on the place where the gatekeeper's life begins - on the day that their father's ends. And FYI, Death knows all about this and is on-board with the idea - just as soon as the other two rings are acquired, he'll help with the rest.”
Gabriel thought for a moment. “I take it Lucifer has already located the gatekeeper.”
“He's not sure if the man can do it yet or not. He just knows the man is a half-blood.” She glanced at him. “May I go now, or is there anything else you need?”
“No.” The angel shook his head and the Muse vanished. Somehow, this idea seemed next to impossible to pull off, but what the hell... if it prevented the fight for another couple of millennium, then he was all for it. Now how his brothers were going to get the Winchesters to consent, he had no idea. If all he had to do was take care of Pestilence...well, he'd play his role in this plan. He just prayed everyone else did theirs.
***
The cardboard box was already opened and sitting on the kitchen table when Heather got home. It was addressed to her, with the return address in the corner being the post office in Jasper. She guessed that Uncle Bobby had opened it just to make sure it wasn't something 'dangerous.' She lifted the first layer of bubble wrap and looked down at four other bubble wrapped packages nestled inside. The letter had stated that these were things found in the ashes of the house in Jasper. Things that weren't totally destroyed - or almost destroyed. “You didn't look at any of this, did you?” Heather said to Bobby, who was sitting in the door-frame.
“No, kid, I didn't. Just opened it... that's all.” He found it wrong that a family's entire history could be shoved into a box of any size. Hell, the Winchesters had a storage locker in New York - but that was all. “How was school today?”
“Not bad...” She shrugged and pulled out the largest of the four objects, carefully unwrapping it. “I'd forgotten about this....” She set down a heavy water pitcher that was bright yellow. “Mom almost never got this out...” Heather grinned very slightly. “Her sister got confused about the color of her Fiestaware... it was supposed to be ivory, not sunflower...”
“It's a decent size...” He wheeled himself over to the table. “Looks like they washed it for you...”
“Yeah...” She sat down and turned the jug over in her hands. “I actually liked this one better....”
*
Heather set the culmination of a twenty-five year marriage and thirteen years of parenting in a row on her dresser. In addition to the pitcher, there was a stone angel that was now missing one of it's wings that had been in her room, a soup bowl that had been a part of her parent's wedding china and an awkward looking ceramic pencil holder she'd made her dad in Brownies when she was in first grade. While all of them had been cleaned of ash and soot, they were still a reminder to her that home, her parents - it was all gone. There was no returning. She picked up her teddy bear, hugged it tightly and stared at what was left of that home. Not for the first time, the idea entered into her head that if her parents had not moved away from their home in Indianapolis, none of this would have ever happened. Taking a deep breath she set the bear back down and went to wash her face and hands before going down for dinner.
**
On the night of the twenty fourth of January, two thousand and ten in the city of Sioux Falls, South Dakota - Heather learned what it meant to have someone test your faith. She always thought things like that happened only in the Bible and usually involved having God ask you to kill someone you cared about. For her, the test came in the form of one very angry angel, who'd had enough of her blind optimism in his Father and an old hunter, who told her to grow up. As she stood there, staring from one to the other, her hand shaking from where Castiel had dropped an amulet she'd not gotten a good look at in it, telling her that 'if you think God cares so much, why don't you go and find him?' She swallowed hard, knowing that they could shoot down any argument she tried to make about it. She wasn't to sure how the two had come to the conclusion that God didn't care to fix the problem and therefore, didn't care about anything - but there she stood, unable to come with a single reason for them not to give up hope, she felt her own resolve starting to crumble. It would be easy to sit back down in her chair, to let them tell her she was wrong, that everything she ever heard was wrong. Michael had told her only five angels had ever seen God and the rest had to take it on faith. Strangely, she remembered the passage from Prince Caspian when Lucy saw Aslan and none of the others believed her... and later Aslan asked why she didn't come alone. She felt very, very alone in that moment as her fingers closed around the golden figure, the sharp points digging into her palm, barely able to speak. “Maybe I am just a kid and don't know any better...” She felt the tears starting to prick the corners of her eyes. “But faith is the only thing I have left.” Her voice became more steady. “And I'm not giving that up... not for you, not for anyone...” With that, she turned and ran up the stairs, shoving the chair under the doorknob, not that she expected that sort of thing to keep Castiel out, but she stood there, a sob caught in her throat as she stared at the door, almost waiting for it to fly open. Five minutes went by, ten minutes went by - after fifteen, she moved closer to the door and could hear the angel and Bobby's conversation - part of which included 'overemotional teenager' and 'still grieving' - it was enough to make her want to scream.
Instead, she put on her headphones, drowning out any conversation and buried herself under the covers, hoping the two downstairs can't hear her weeping. Late in the night, in the middle of a dream, Michael stops calling her 'Heather Grace' and just calls her Grace. When her alarm goes off at five in the morning, Grace Kittredge got out of bed and got ready for school. As she hauled her bag downstairs and made a pot of coffee for the still sleeping Bobby, she knew that she couldn't be plain Heather Kittredge any longer. Heather, Grace reflected, was a little girl who swung from monkey bars and knew how to laugh.
Grace hoped she could find the lost girl's laughter some day. After eating a bowl of cereal and cleaning the dishes from last night, she headed out into the Monday morning air. She knows that people will still call her Heather, but Heather is someone she doesn't know how to be anymore. Now there's just Grace. If Uncle Bobby wanted her to grow up, well then... this was how she was going to do it.
Chapter Seventeen
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: None
Warnings: Language, mild violence
Word Count: 8722
Notes: This story follows canon up to Changing Channels - sort of - and borrows chunks of the rest of Season Five completely at random. This story has no beta. Chapter title from the song by Avril Lavigne.
Trailer 1 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8LXZM9nRC4
Trailer 2 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wijPDaRc9iA
Summary: The January before he went to Hell, Dean and his brother Sam faced the Last Calusa in Key West, Florida. Following the defeat of this ancient curse, the brothers left, barreling straight into their destiny and the inevitable showdown against Lilith and her minions. But what they assumed was just another hunt was actually a key part in the plans of the Apocalypse. A plan not laid by the powers below, but by the ones up above.
Summary this chapter:Sam and Dean head to Maryland after the search for Jo reaches a dead end and stumble upon the odd case of Noah Levin. Heather gets paired with Nate for a project with English... and ends up making a friend. Gabriel and Castiel summon Melpomene - and after getting a few answers, the archangel sends Cas away before going further with the interrogation - and finally picks a side. Sam and Dean come to a conclusion about Noah after a brief conversation and Heather reaches a turning point that she didn't expect.
Dean tossed the several Target bags onto his bed in the motel, frowning. He and Sam had spent the better part of the past three weeks tracking down possible leads and gathering information on the demon Ellen and Jo had been tracking. The motel the Harvelles had been staying at was a dead end - half of it had burned to the ground two days before New Year's Eve... their room had been among the destroyed. Although Jo was listed as missing from the motel - as they'd not found any part of her in the room. Ellen, however - they'd found just enough of her body to identify it - the rest had been burned to ash. The fire had claimed six other lives - two kids were among the dead. It was all bad and he and Sam had left the area, moving southward, into Maryland. The trail on the demon was cold and they knew Jo could be anywhere by now. So here they were, already onto another case that might be nothing or something major. “Remind me again why we're here.” He sat down on the bed and started to remove his boots.
Sam rubbed his eyes tiredly. He'd stayed behind in the motel to do more research. “Yeah... about a month ago, a flight left O'Hare Airport in Chicago for Ronald Regan here in DC... two days later, passengers from that plane started heading to hospitals, all suffering from the same malady...” He bent down, unzipped his backpack and dug out a file folder. “A week later, nine of the passengers and two crew members were dead. Four were elderly, three already had some other kind of illness and the remaining four well, they're still working on that one...” He leaned across the bed and held the folder out to his brother. “The following week, three more people were dead - they already had some other form of illness also - but the rest of the passengers have started to recover and they've traced who they think is patient zero back to Chicago - the airline worker who was scanning tickets at the gate. Trouble is, she's also dead.”
“Still not getting this Sam...” Dean opened the folder, flipping through a few newspaper clippings.
“The plane was a fully loaded seven-forty-seven... there were four hundred and sixteen passengers, ten crew members... and all but one of them have been into the hospital for some form of treatment.”
“One person?” Dean looked up, skeptical. “That's odd.”
“Yeah. The two random dead passengers were sitting on either side of the guy.”
“That's...” He shook his head. “What the hell...”
“The passenger is one Noah Levin. He's a professor at Georgetown University.”
“Maybe he's just lucky.” Dean shrugged his shoulders. “What is it they say, at least twenty-five percent of the population is immune to any given illness? What'd they all have, anyway?”
“They still haven't identified the disease, but they think it's a new strain of meningitis.”
“That can't be good.” He set the folder down and rubbed his eyes. “But let me guess, there's more.”
“Yeah. The only sick people reported from the second-busiest airport in the country were that gate attendant and that one flight.”
“Now that's definitely not normal.” Dean knew all to well how fast illnesses could spread - when he was eight, the chicken pox ran rampant through the school he was attending - he'd been fortunate to have already had the dread illness, but half the student population was out faster than his dad had gotten halfway through the research for the hunt he was on at the time. He finished toeing off his boots. “So I take it you want to go talk to the good professor.”
“Yeah. Though odds are, this guy's going to be smart enough to see through just about any disguise.”
Dean snorted and started digging clean clothes from his bag. “What makes you say that?”
“Dean, he's got a damn doctoral degree in Mathematics from Yale - odds are, if this guy wasn't part of the equation, he'd be one helping the CDC and the FBI and who knows all figure out the math on this. Hell, the CDC has probably already put the guy through a regime of testing to find out why he's not sick.”
“Great, so how old is this guy, sixty?”
“Try thirty-nine.” Sam replied.
“He married?”
“Divorced...” Leaning over, Sam took the folder back and flipped back through it. “He has one kid, a ten year old boy named Wesley who lives with him - but this past Christmas, he spent the holiday with his mom in New York. Guess where the good professor was?”
“Let me guess... not in Chicago.” Dean dug out the smaller bag that held his toiletries.
“Right. He was with his sister and her family.... in Sioux Falls.”
“As in, South Dakota...”
“Yeah, the same time we were there.” He shook his head. “Crazy...”
“No kidding.” Dean turned and headed for the bathroom. “I don't suppose you've come up with a cover story for us yet...”
“Still working on it.” Sam said as his brother shut the door and turned on the shower.
*
'Working on it' turned out to entail Dean leaving Sam alone to do more research. Hating the quiet of the motel room he'd left to go repair the Winchester Family Finances. Given that it wasn't a Friday night, the bars weren't terribly crowded, but there were still plenty of people to hustle in a game or five of pool. By the time he got back however, it was late and he fully expected to find Sam asleep. Instead, he found his brother still awake, staring at his laptop and pulling on his bottom lip, thinking. Not saying anything, he set the small bag of groceries he'd forgotten to get at the store earlier down on the table and, after putting the half-gallon of milk from the bag into the in-room fridge, his brother had shifted in his chair, looking pensive.
“What's up with you?” Dean frowned.
“I think I may have an idea on how we can talk to the good professor...” He sighed. “But I don't think you're going to like it.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I think our best bet may be posing as workers from the Middleton Institute.”
“The Middleton Institute?” Dean sat down on his bed and started to take off his boots. “What's that?”
“An organization that helps adopted kids find their birth families.”
Dean glanced up. “Somehow I don't think those are the sort of people who come and knock on your front door, Sammy.”
“I think I have it worked out...” He set his pen down and rubbed his face. “Besides, maybe Cas can help with actually finding the guy's birth family... if he's got anything to tell us.”
“You dig anything up on the good professor anyway?”
“Let's see...” Sam opened a file on his laptop. “There's not much I could find - most of the networks around here are way to secure to hack into... and not get caught. Noah Levin, born May nineteenth, nineteen seventy. Teaches mathematics at Georgetown, doctorate at Yale, undergrad at Stanford... a few published works in various academic journals...” He frowned. “His parents live in Tucson, Arizona.”
“Great, a class-A brain.” Dean said, not sitting up.
“No kidding.... Dr. Levin has a little bit of a following in the world of academia.” Sam snorted. “I took a look at it, but most of the things I don't understand.” He shook his head.
“So if he's here and his parents aren't that far away, what's his sister doing in Sioux Falls?”
“I had a feeling you'd ask that...” He took a deep breath. “She's an English teacher...at Patrick Henry.”
That made Dean sit up. “Heather's school?”
“That's right.” He shook his head. “You compare the two siblings and it's complete opposites...then again, both of the Levin children were adopted.”
“You got a picture of the professor?” He stood and came over to the table.
“Sure.” He turned the laptop towards him.
Dean frowned at the thin main with brown hair and hazel eyes. “That's funny...”
“What?”
“You know how you look at some people and they seem familiar somehow...” He titled the angle of the laptop.
Sam looked at the screen and frowned - and he saw it too. “You're right. That's weird... maybe its his haircut...”
“Could be.” He shrugged and went to change into his sleep clothes.
**
Heather was relieved it was Friday. This week had seemed almost endless. She settled into her seat, only half listening to the conversations around her. When she'd talked to Bobby about the problem with the boy and the car, he'd called over to his neighbors and they had vehemently denied that their son would do such a thing. Heather had been sort of glad at that moment that the old hunter was confined to a wheel chair because he looked mad enough to shoot someone. So he'd told her to be extra careful on the road - and wait until Sam and Dean got back to do more about the situation.
“All right class...” Rachel Fasci's voice cut through Heather's musings and she turned her attention towards the teacher. “As you know, this is second semester English... and I know it's time for the assignment you've all been looking forward to.” An audible groan came up from at least half the class. “Now, I know you'll change your minds once you get started.” The teacher kept smiling as she started to write on the board. “Although I learned two things from the diorama project the last two years...” She set the chalk down after writing the date March 19, 2010 on the board. “And that is assigned partners... and limiting it to one diorama per book.”
Heather remained quiet as the rest of the class seemed to erupt around her. The assignment seemed logical to her. She figured there were around two hundred seventh graders in the school and who wanted to see twenty-five dioramas on the same book, with half of them probably being the same scene? She heard the teacher call order and the grumbling slowly quieted down, though the mutinous looks continued.
“I've already drawn up the pairs - there will be no switching partners, unless there is a valid argument for it. Stating that you don't want to work with someone because they are not in your circle of friends isn't one of them.” She gave the class a very sharp look, one Heather took to mean It's time to grow up. “I want you to spend this period talking with your partner and, if possible, chose the book you would like to do. Once you've had a talk about what you would like to do, please come up and turn in at least three books you would like to use. To be fair to the other classes, your books will be assigned on Wednesday. You have until the end of the day Monday to turn your list in. I want to remind you, again, that this is seventy percent of your grade this semester.”
Heather took a quick look around the room, realizing that the teacher was starting with the name Andrews - she was going in alphabetical order by last names, but that's not what she was looking for. She counted up the number of girls and boys in the class - an even fifteen. That meant there had to be at least one pair that would be boy-girl. The only thought that went through her mind was - please don't let me be matched up with a Twihard. Laughter started ringing out as a scrawny boy in the third row was paired up with an equally scrawny girl in the fifth. More laughter as several other boy-girl pairings were given out and even Heather found herself chuckling just a little. Of course, she stopped laughing when her name was said and followed by Nathan Turabian. She glanced around and saw the boy she'd seen at church looking rather disgruntled. When the teacher finished listing names - only two followed Heather's - someone with the last name of McCormick and another of Nessim - the students started to move. Rather than waiting for her to move, Nathan came over and plunked himself into the desk Johnathan had vacated and turned it towards her.
This was not the news that Nate had wanted - at all. Being assigned a partner was one thing, but being assigned the new kid? Having only seen her in church, the only thing he could tell about her was that she had a nice singing voice - but taking her out of the context he usually saw her in, all he could see was a timid and very sad looking girl. She'd barely said a thing in the three weeks she'd been here. He sighed and opened his notebook - he'd actually had this diorama planned out from almost the moment he first heard about the project - he even had planned on asking Joe Lowery, the resident book geek, to be his partner - knowing he could bully the meeker classmate into agreeing with him on everything. That, of course, went straight out the window, because odds were, Heather hadn't read The Dangerous Days of Daniel X. “I'm not doing Twilight.”
Heather blinked. “I should hope not. I wouldn't do that unless there was serious bribe involved.” Irritation was starting to kick in - her assumption of Nate from church was that he was at least a decent guy - but that was rapidly depleting. “I'm Heather, by the way, nice to meet you, Nathan.”
“It's Nate.” He gave her a pointed look. “I don't want to be rude, but I've been looking forward to this project all year and my plans just got ruined, so excuse me if I'm upset. This is a huge thing to me, so it'd really mean a lot to me if you'd just follow along with the plans I've already made... so...”
“Excuse me?” She gave him a disgusted look. “But who the hell died and made you Lead Traveler?”
“No one... I just...” He stopped. “Wait, you've read Pendragon?”
“Shouldn't everyone?”
This changed things - a lot. “Well... yeah.” He tapped his notebook with his pen.
“How big are these dioramas supposed to be anyway? Like shoe-box size or what?”
“Uh...” He folded his arms and set them on the desk. “There's not a standard size, my mom got a new dishwasher back in October and I snagged the box from that - so that's....”
“That's pretty big yeah...” Heather bit her lip, thinking. “We could probably pull off the Tato match from The Quillian Games - all we need is a hubcap, some fishing line, two action figures... and a lot of paint.”
A grin slowly started to form on Nate's face. “If you can pull off the platform, I can definitely get the inside of the box done...” He frowned. “But we should have back ups, just in case....”
Heather felt herself smiling, ideas clicking into place. “Simple, do the Mouraj Training Camp from Rivers of Zadaa - just need a lot of cardboard and sandpaper...”
“What about doing Solara from Soldiers of Halla - I'm not talking with all the Travelers, but maybe with just Bobby and Uncle Press?”
“That could work too...” She frowned. “It'd take a lot of cotton balls, though...”
Nate wrote the three down on the paper, feeling much better than he had when he first heard Ms. Fasci's announcement. Maybe, just maybe - a few weeks from now - because there's no way he's going to bring it up any time sooner - he can find out who her angel friend is.
Heather bit her lip before speaking again. “Uh Nate, I've not been down to the library yet.. do you know if they have the series here?”
“No, they don't.” He rolled his eyes. “Plenty of really old stuff though...” He leaned back in his seat. “Don't you have a copy of the series?”
“I... I used to.” She rubbed her nose, looking down at her notebook.
Nate could tell just by looking that something was wrong and he bit off the question of asking if her parents had accidentally given it away. He frowned and leaned forward. “Uh... what happened to it? If you don't mind me asking...”
Heather glanced up. “It got destroyed in a fire... the only book I've still got is my copy of Raven Rise.”
“That sucks, I'm sorry...” He'd be devastated if he lost his entire book collection too. “But you'll get new copies, right? I mean, insurance and stuff...”
“I... I don't think so...” Heather didn't want to discuss this - least of all with a stranger. She winced as she felt her eyes tear up.
“Oh, crap...please don't cry... I hate it when girls cry...” He leaned over onto the counter next to him and set the Kleenex box on her desk.
“Thanks.” She took one and sniffled.
“Your parents send you here to Sioux Falls while they work on recovery or something?”
“Something...” She swallowed and looked down again, hating the tears stains she saw on her notebook.
“Damn... I can't imagine how hard that must be...” Nate was thinking of his own house, with all the things he was familiar with - and then it being gone. Hell, he didn't blame her for crying. Although why her parents weren't going to be replacing her lost books he couldn't imagine. Then a thought sprang into his mind and it horrified him - What if there are no parents to replace them? He swallowed again, hating how unnerved he was getting. “Look, I'm sorry I snapped at you at the beginning.”
“It's okay.” Heather took a deep breath and looked up. “I'll be okay.”
“I'm... I'm sorry about... you know...” He made a weak gesture. “About your books... and your... your other stuff.”
“Thanks.” She replied and she meant it. She wasn't sure if Nate had figured out that it was more than just books she'd lost.
Nate spoke before he could stop himself. “Is that why you have that angel with you in church?”
“Sort of.” She hauled up her bag as the bell rang. “I don't want to talk about it.”
“Sure.” Nate replied as he tossed the box of tissues back to where it was originally and started to gather up his own things. Heather was already gone by the time he looked up. “Damn...” He barely registered his friend Luke whining about being stuck with doing something from Harry Potter. He had to wonder if that set of books had also been lost in the fire at Heather's house. He had the overwhelming urge to tell his friend to shut up.
***
Sam and Dean stepped into the back of the lecture hall, noting the few students in the back row who turned and glanced at him and then went back to paying attention to the professor. Given the area, Sam figured the kids were used to seeing men in suits constantly. He stood under the clock, keeping his focus on the man down at the front of the room. A small wave of nostalgia swept over him and it almost made him long for Stanford again. Of course, one look at the equations on the board and he was knew instantly that not majoring in statistics was a good thing.
“All right...” Noah set down the chalk and turned towards the class. “The theory goes that every person on this planet is connected to everyone else by no less than six people. The Internet itself is largely to take the credit for this. Just as everyone you went to high school with is connected to everyone in this classroom, so to is everyone in your mafia on Facebook.” The class let out a general chuckle at that. “The theory also states that in fifty years, given the spread of technology, the connection between people could go down to four people.” He leaned against the long lab table at the front of the area he was speaking in. “To give you an example of this, is anyone here from South Dakota?” Noah looked over his seventy students and got no response. “Anyone know anyone in South Dakota?”
Several people raised their hands and the brothers exchanged glances, but didn't move.
Noah took note of the man under the clock and checked the time before continuing. “Sioux Falls?”
Sam and a student in the middle of the classroom kept their hands raised. “All right...” He glanced at the seating chart. “Nadia, is it?”
“Yes.” The girl replied.
“Do you know anyone at Patrick Henry Middle School?”
“No.”
“That's okay, this will still work....” He started to pace. “It's currently quarter to eleven here and a quarter of ten in Sioux Falls. In exactly five minutes I'm going to let you all out of here to go do whatever it is for your next class, have lunch... I don't know where you're going, but you're leaving here. When I let you out of this classroom, my sister is going to be letting thirty seventh graders out of her classroom for their next class. That's thirty kids you don't know... but my sister knows them, I know my sister and you know me. If you take in all two hundred of my sister's students and the fact that she probably knows all six hundred students in that school... that's a lot of kids you don't know, but yet you share a connection too.” He shut his lesson plan book. “Think about this also... in four years, any ninth grader at my sister's school could be sitting in this classroom... and for him or her, the connection to that school is already one degree...and as it is the weekend... all I can say is be prepared for a possible pop quiz on Monday on the first part of chapter six.”
Dean winced slightly. “Are all college professors like this?”
“Not any I had.” Sam replied. “Then again, I never took statistics.”
They waited for the students to file out of the classroom and watched as Professor Levin started packing up his things before heading down to the bottom of the lecture hall. “Noah Levin?”
Noah turned and put down the eraser. “Yes?”
“I'm Nick Shaw, from the Middleton Institute...” Dean nodded to his brother. “This is James Parkington. I don't know if my supervisor called you or not... cell service has been sketchy as of late.”
“Uh, no...” Noah came over to the table, studying the two men with a slight frown. “I was unaware you made calls like this.”
“It's not routine.” Sam said, holding out his hand for the man to shake, which he did. “Just a few questions, that's all.”
“More questions.” Noah smiled faintly. “Seems that's all I do lately, answer questions.”
“I know the feeling.” Sam said as Dean shook the man's hand as well and he took out a small notebook and set it on the table. “Now, you and your sister were both adopted, correct?”
“Yes.” Noah leaned against the table, frowning. “Different agencies were used... all I know about my natural parents was that one was of English and Welsh decent and one of Greek...” He frowned when he saw Nick Shaw give him an odd glance. “Is there something wrong? This should all be in my file.”
“Oh, it's just routine, sir.” Sam set his pen down.
“Anything else you're aware of, about the adoption.”
“I'm not really looking for my birth family to establish a relationship... yes, I'm open to it, but if they want to be left alone, I respect that. I just want to know where I come from. I'm guessing that they were only doing what was best, leaving me in that hospital and walking out... or so I assume.”
“Meaning?” Dean thought this story sounded somewhat familiar. He and Sam had exchanged glances at the mention of 'Greek' heritage.
“You must be new.” Noah shook his head and started putting things in his bag. “According to what I was told, a nurse found me in a cardboard box with blankets under a chair in Mount Sinai Hospital in New York City.”
“Really?” Sam picked up his notebook.
Noah stretched his arms to the side, gripping the table. “I actually didn't start thinking about it until recently... are either of you adopted?”
“No.” Dean replied.
“Then you don't know what it's like... you see strangers on a train and wonder if they know your parents, especially if they give you an odd look like they know you and they don't. Then you wonder about that family that does know where you come from... and maybe they know you exist...” He took a deep breath. “My mom has always said I am far to curious for my own good. She still says its a good thing my dad talked me out of forensic science because I'd be working my way through every cold case in the FBI's files.”
“There's no harm in searching, Mr. Levin.” Dean clicked his pen and he heard footsteps hurrying down the stairs.
“Excuse me, Dr. Levin.” Another student stood there, looking slightly winded.
“Jeremy, you didn't run all the way here, did you?”
“If I'd have walked, I would have missed you.” He opened his bag and pulled out a file folder. “Here.” He held it out.
Noah took it. “Thank you for doing this.”
“No problem... I mean, my aunt did sell you the house in the first place.” He grinned and headed back up the stairs. “Let me know if you need anything else!”
Sam frowned. “Some thing wrong with your house, Mr. Levin?”
Noah shoved the folder into his briefcase. “Not that I care to discuss. We finished?”
“Yeah...if we need any more information we will call you.” Dean said, trying to appear nonchalant.
“Thank you.” He shouldered his bag, picked up his coat and started up the stairs.
Sam waited until the man was gone to speak. “You think he's like Heather?”
“Highly likely... abandoned in a hospital... makes you wonder how they knew he was partially Greek.”
“Maybe there was information in the box with him, or something.” They started up the stairs. “If he is... then that could explain why he didn't get sick.”
“It makes me wonder just what else he's immune to.” As they reached the top of the stairs, they turned into the flow of traffic, heading for the exit. “Still doesn't explain why he looks familiar...I mean, not like Muse familiar, more familiar than that...”
“I don't think the question now is why is he immune - but why the illness happened in the first place.” Sam said as they went out into the cold January air.
***
“I still do not understand why you think the Muses would be aware of what Lucifer is doing.” Castiel frowned as he handed Gabriel another container of salt.
“Call it a hunch.” The archangel sighed. “Besides, it can't have escaped your notice that the Muses don't exactly volunteer information.”
The angel merely tilted his head in response. “I suppose that is true.”
“Don't worry, it's not so much Lucifer I want to know about, but rather what they haven't been telling us.” Gabriel started to pour a long thin line of salt in an even pattern on the floor. “I already know what our brother is up to, somewhat. I know that he raised Famine almost a month ago and let that Horseman loose in South America. The reason it's been quiet on that front is because he's working through isolated villages that don't have easy contact with the outside world.” He finished making the last of the lines. “And before you ask, I've considered going after Horseman, but Lucifer is staying close by him - and I really don't feel like getting killed.”
Castiel stepped outside of the many rings of sea salt and goofer dust carefully so he wouldn't disturb any of their work, being particularly careful when it came to the ring of holy oil at the half way point, and upon reaching the outer ring, started adding various herbs to a dish. “Gabriel, may I ask you something?”
The archangel made his way back to stand next to Castiel. “I know what you want to know, little brother... if I was to chose one word for how our father is, I would say that he's very...” He paused, thinking. “Melancholy - or he was, last I saw him. It pains him to see the things he loves acting the way they do.” He set down the empty container. “It hurts, Castiel... to know that we should all care about one another yet so many suffer.”
“Why doesn't he put an end to the suffering?”
“If he did that, Castiel... then there would be no point in living.” He took the dish of herbs and set it down between to of the rings. “There's just going to be one problem with this.”
“Which is?”
“Muses are never happy about being summoned anywhere.” Gabriel snorted. “This used to be much easier.” He shook his head and took the bowl from him and went and set it on the floor. He crouched down, holding his hand over the bowl and started to chant softly in Enochian. A flash of flame flickered down from the archangel's fingertips and landed dead center of the herbs, causing the mixture to flare up once and then, the center ring of holy oil ignited as a gust of wind filled the room, breaking all the lines but the one of fire. When the grit, dust and salt settled, Gabriel stood up and smirked at the trapped figure roughly ten feet from him and Castiel. “Good morning, Melpomene.”
The Muse glared at him and then flicked her eyes at Castiel before speaking. “You have something against telephones, Gabriel?”
“I prefer to do some things the old fashioned way.” He folded his arms. “We catch you at a bad time?” The muse was garbed in a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a tank shirt.
The muse stood, arms akimbo. “Not really... fortunately, I was already awake.” She glanced at Castiel. “By the way, Claire says hi and yes, she's doing exactly as you asked.”
The angel frowned. “That is not why we called you here.”
“I didn't think so.” She flicked her gaze back to Gabriel. “You're the ones who summoned me, since neither of you are mortals, I'll just skip the pedagogy that normally occurs and just ask, how may I help you today?”
“Civility.” Gabriel snorted. “Melpomene, I am surprised at you.”
“Oh I'm plenty pissed, right now...” She sighed. “But as I left my weapons at home and you have me at a disadvantage, if I play nicely you'll let me out of here sooner.”
“Why is Lucifer kidnapping women?” Castiel said, with no preamble.
“Is he?” Melpomene frowned. “How many have gone missing?”
“Don't play stupid, Muse.” Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “I know you know something.”
“What makes you say I would know why your brother is doing what he is?”
“Because you were there when Michael shoved him into the cage the first time.” For the briefest of moments his eyes flashed with their true color. “You had to have seen something - and don't answer with a riddle.”
“Oh that's actually a very easy thing to answer - your brother Lucifer is a hypocrite.” She smirked. “And my sister Persephone was an unfaithful windbag.”
For a moment the two angels stared at her - one in confusion and the other in shock. “Wait....” Gabriel started. “You mean... the two of them....”
“Yeah.” She flicked her gaze to Castiel. “I don't know if this conversation is fit for his almost-innocent ears.” She smirked as she saw a faint tinge of red appear on the angels' cheeks. “Have you heard where Dean took him before they went and talked to Raphael?”
“This is not the time to discuss this...” Gabriel had caught the flash of memory from Castiel and was doing his best not to laugh. “Just... what is he doing with the women?”
“Well, my assumption would be that he's going to try and bring Persephone back - and for that he needs a body... and nine sacrifices. I do not know what his criteria for choosing them is, or where he's keeping them.”
“Persephone is dead then?”
“Very.” She squared her shoulders as Castiel seemed to regain his composure. “The only trouble is, she is not where he would assume her to be.”
“Where is she?” Castiel asked, frowning.
“The Oblivion.” She let her shoulders slump. “Now, is there anything else I can answer for you?”
Gabriel was still trying to process the fact that his brother who despised anything that was not of his Father or angels sleeping with a pagan god that he almost didn't notice when Castiel spoke again.
“Is what Erato told me true?”
“What did Atty tell you?” She looked genuinely confused, having not talked to that particular sister recently.
“About why your and two of your sister's children can see angels.”
“If she told you what I think she told you, then yes it is.” She moved her arms so that they were behind her back, one wrist held with the other. “Now that Cori's finished puking her guts out, she's feeling much better... now if we can just get to stop trying to scrub her skin off, she should be good.” She glanced at Gabriel. “I take it you already told your big brother here.”
“About you drinking Apollo's blood, yes.” He inwardly smirked, rather pleased he'd known something the archangel hadn't.
“Did you mention both parts, or could you not bring your almost-innocent mouth to say something as vulgar as sex?”
“I would greatly appreciate it if you would not mock me, Muse.” Castiel glowered at her. “I still do not see how your children are able to do it, as Erato told me...”
Several windows shattered in the abandoned warehouse and Melpomene's eyes went solid blue. “It has to be consensual, asshole.”
Gabriel looked from his brother to the Muse. “Cas, I think we've learned what we needed to here...” He snapped his fingers and sent him away to somewhere in the vicinity of the Singer Salvage Yard. Now alone with Melpomene, he relaxed ever so slightly. “You may be onto something with his innocent ears.”
The muse folded her arms, eyes back to normal, sighing. “I take it you want to know more.”
“Well for one, I'd like to know how Apollo is still breathing, if he's done what I think he has.”
“The only reason he's still wasting oxygen is the fact that maman hasn't decided yet how to kill him. Although I think she may finally be settling on the liquid nitrogen and the cake knife.”
The archangel started to walk around the ring of holy oil, frowning. “So I take it the other rumor is true too, yes?”
“Which one? I know lots of rumors.”
“You and Michael.”
“That's only mostly true. He's not going to come down to my level, I know that for sure and certain.” She sighed. “You know Castiel's probably going to be pretty pissed with you, yes?”
“I don't care.” He stopped, glancing at her. “So why don't you tell me how Lucifer intends to open a portal into the neither-realm of Elysium... no angel and no demon can do it.”
“I told Dean that the ability to see angels was both a blessing and a curse. The children who can see them can open the portal... but only on a certain day and in a certain location.” She rubbed her face, starting to feel rather warm trapped in the fire. “I don't suppose you'd let me out of here so we can talk like more civilized beings, would you?”
“I don't trust you not to run and I don't trust myself not to attack.” Gabriel sighed. “I don't know what will happen if Lucifer has that portal opened and Persephone is not there.”
“Odds are, the souls in that realm would be sent to the oblivion.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “There's a lot of good people in there.”
“I know.” Gabriel started pacing - he knew that Elysium held the souls of those who were good, yet knew nothing of his Father and those who were forced into evil against their will. Why they were refused Heaven, he did not know. “Knowing the Winchesters, they'd actually try and shove his ass in there... and he can't be in that realm.”
“Well, then, if you'd like to join in on the newly revised Apocalypse Plan D, you're more than welcome to.”
“Plan D?” He arched an eyebrow at her. “Now this I've not heard...”
“It's tricky, dangerous... and still requires the Winchester brother's consent, but it's a plan that Lucifer doesn't know.”
“What does this entail?”
“Reopening Lucifer's cage with the Horseman rings and the portal into Elysium at the same time... since Psyche is the keeper of that gate, she could, if asked, be able to pull Sam Winchester's soul out of his body and then slam the door shut behind him - then Michael can shove Lucifer back into Hell or kill him. I'm thinking he's leaning towards the former. The soul of that poor man he's in now is almost completely burned away into nothing.”
“You aren't honestly going to ask your daughter to open up that portal, are you?” He was stunned. “How is the person who opens the portal supposed to not get sucked in there?”
“Who said anything about asking Heather?” She let out a deep breath. “If they fall in there body and soul, they can more or less walk right back out... or fall out, as the case may be...from what I understand, getting in there isn't like storming the gates of Hell.”
“Horseman rings, huh?” Gabriel knew how that worked, of course. “You are aware how dangerous this whole plan is, yes?”
“It's all dangerous, Gabriel.” She started to rub her shoulders. “But if you just want to sit back and watch it all fall apart, you're more than welcome.”
Gabriel moved until he was directly in front of her, separated by the ring of flame. “I just want it to be over.”
“I know you do.” She hugged herself, the fire starting to irritate her eyes. “But if you just want to sit back, pull pranks and go out with a smile, that's your own prerogative.”
“You don't know a damn thing about it...”
“How do you think my mother feels about this? Quite frankly, she doesn't know why Lucifer doesn't just suck it up and be a big boy, but that's my mom being an adult.”
“Shut your cake-hole.” He growled and started to pace again, although he was in full agreement with his sister on the matter of Lucifer growing up. “You do know that if we put the Devil back in the box, it just postpones everything.”
“Yes, but perhaps if we pull this off, all you lovely angels can have all your ducks in a row before you let Lucifer out the next time.”
Gabriel dug a candy bar out of his coat pocket and unwrapped it, frowning. “I wasn't there, in case you haven't noticed.”
“I know, Loki.” She pinched the bridge of her nose.
He munched on the bar, grinning slightly as he realized she'd used his more common name, thinking. “Suppose I did agree to help with this idea... how long do we have?”
“We have until March twenty-seventh.”
“Where?”
“Bethel, New York.” She let out a deep breath. “I don't suppose you have a second one of those, do you?” She indicated the chocolate bar. “I've not had any breakfast.”
Gabriel glowered at her for a moment, but then reached into his coat pocket and tossed a Snickers Bar across the flames and she caught it. “Bethel...” He thought a moment. “Wait... that's where Woodstock was held.”
“Yes.” She unwrapped the bar. “Thank you for the chocolate.” She took a large bite, manners be damned.
“Woodstock...” He grinned faintly. “That... was one hell of a party.”
“You went too?” She said after swallowing her bite of candy.
“Anyone who didn't missed it.” He took another bite of his own bar. “I take it you know where the gatekeeper is.”
“Sure, he's in Potomac, Maryland.” She shook her head. “Clio already knows all about this, so please don't make her more worried than she already is.”
Gabriel swallowed and smirked. “I suppose I can gank a horseman...but if Dean and Sam play their roles, who's going to be opening up the cage?”
“Michael opened the cage once, he can open it again.” She took a smaller bite of chocolate.
“Well, why not....” He finished his bar of candy and stuffed the wrapper into his pocket. “Famine should be moving north soon... but I think I'll wait until I can get a fix on Pestilence instead.”
“All help is welcome at this point...”
“Just as long as Michael understands that I'm only doing this to postpone the fight, not feed it. I do this, he agrees to put Lucifer back in his cage instead of killing him.”
“I'll pass the message along, or you can tell him yourself next time you see him.” She finished her own bar of chocolate. “Between you and me, I don't think he's going to object.”
“Whatever works.” He went across the room and picked up a bucket of water. “Might as well let you out now...” He threw the water at the base of the flames and it skimmed across the cement floor, extinguishing the fire.
Melpomene let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“Don't thank me yet, we still have a long way to go.” He said as she stepped out of the burnt circle. “Just in case this doesn't work in Bethel...if it's not ready in time... where's the contingency location?”
“That would be Key West, Florida - on May second.” She rolled her shoulders. “The door can only be opened on the place where the gatekeeper's life begins - on the day that their father's ends. And FYI, Death knows all about this and is on-board with the idea - just as soon as the other two rings are acquired, he'll help with the rest.”
Gabriel thought for a moment. “I take it Lucifer has already located the gatekeeper.”
“He's not sure if the man can do it yet or not. He just knows the man is a half-blood.” She glanced at him. “May I go now, or is there anything else you need?”
“No.” The angel shook his head and the Muse vanished. Somehow, this idea seemed next to impossible to pull off, but what the hell... if it prevented the fight for another couple of millennium, then he was all for it. Now how his brothers were going to get the Winchesters to consent, he had no idea. If all he had to do was take care of Pestilence...well, he'd play his role in this plan. He just prayed everyone else did theirs.
***
The cardboard box was already opened and sitting on the kitchen table when Heather got home. It was addressed to her, with the return address in the corner being the post office in Jasper. She guessed that Uncle Bobby had opened it just to make sure it wasn't something 'dangerous.' She lifted the first layer of bubble wrap and looked down at four other bubble wrapped packages nestled inside. The letter had stated that these were things found in the ashes of the house in Jasper. Things that weren't totally destroyed - or almost destroyed. “You didn't look at any of this, did you?” Heather said to Bobby, who was sitting in the door-frame.
“No, kid, I didn't. Just opened it... that's all.” He found it wrong that a family's entire history could be shoved into a box of any size. Hell, the Winchesters had a storage locker in New York - but that was all. “How was school today?”
“Not bad...” She shrugged and pulled out the largest of the four objects, carefully unwrapping it. “I'd forgotten about this....” She set down a heavy water pitcher that was bright yellow. “Mom almost never got this out...” Heather grinned very slightly. “Her sister got confused about the color of her Fiestaware... it was supposed to be ivory, not sunflower...”
“It's a decent size...” He wheeled himself over to the table. “Looks like they washed it for you...”
“Yeah...” She sat down and turned the jug over in her hands. “I actually liked this one better....”
*
Heather set the culmination of a twenty-five year marriage and thirteen years of parenting in a row on her dresser. In addition to the pitcher, there was a stone angel that was now missing one of it's wings that had been in her room, a soup bowl that had been a part of her parent's wedding china and an awkward looking ceramic pencil holder she'd made her dad in Brownies when she was in first grade. While all of them had been cleaned of ash and soot, they were still a reminder to her that home, her parents - it was all gone. There was no returning. She picked up her teddy bear, hugged it tightly and stared at what was left of that home. Not for the first time, the idea entered into her head that if her parents had not moved away from their home in Indianapolis, none of this would have ever happened. Taking a deep breath she set the bear back down and went to wash her face and hands before going down for dinner.
**
On the night of the twenty fourth of January, two thousand and ten in the city of Sioux Falls, South Dakota - Heather learned what it meant to have someone test your faith. She always thought things like that happened only in the Bible and usually involved having God ask you to kill someone you cared about. For her, the test came in the form of one very angry angel, who'd had enough of her blind optimism in his Father and an old hunter, who told her to grow up. As she stood there, staring from one to the other, her hand shaking from where Castiel had dropped an amulet she'd not gotten a good look at in it, telling her that 'if you think God cares so much, why don't you go and find him?' She swallowed hard, knowing that they could shoot down any argument she tried to make about it. She wasn't to sure how the two had come to the conclusion that God didn't care to fix the problem and therefore, didn't care about anything - but there she stood, unable to come with a single reason for them not to give up hope, she felt her own resolve starting to crumble. It would be easy to sit back down in her chair, to let them tell her she was wrong, that everything she ever heard was wrong. Michael had told her only five angels had ever seen God and the rest had to take it on faith. Strangely, she remembered the passage from Prince Caspian when Lucy saw Aslan and none of the others believed her... and later Aslan asked why she didn't come alone. She felt very, very alone in that moment as her fingers closed around the golden figure, the sharp points digging into her palm, barely able to speak. “Maybe I am just a kid and don't know any better...” She felt the tears starting to prick the corners of her eyes. “But faith is the only thing I have left.” Her voice became more steady. “And I'm not giving that up... not for you, not for anyone...” With that, she turned and ran up the stairs, shoving the chair under the doorknob, not that she expected that sort of thing to keep Castiel out, but she stood there, a sob caught in her throat as she stared at the door, almost waiting for it to fly open. Five minutes went by, ten minutes went by - after fifteen, she moved closer to the door and could hear the angel and Bobby's conversation - part of which included 'overemotional teenager' and 'still grieving' - it was enough to make her want to scream.
Instead, she put on her headphones, drowning out any conversation and buried herself under the covers, hoping the two downstairs can't hear her weeping. Late in the night, in the middle of a dream, Michael stops calling her 'Heather Grace' and just calls her Grace. When her alarm goes off at five in the morning, Grace Kittredge got out of bed and got ready for school. As she hauled her bag downstairs and made a pot of coffee for the still sleeping Bobby, she knew that she couldn't be plain Heather Kittredge any longer. Heather, Grace reflected, was a little girl who swung from monkey bars and knew how to laugh.
Grace hoped she could find the lost girl's laughter some day. After eating a bowl of cereal and cleaning the dishes from last night, she headed out into the Monday morning air. She knows that people will still call her Heather, but Heather is someone she doesn't know how to be anymore. Now there's just Grace. If Uncle Bobby wanted her to grow up, well then... this was how she was going to do it.
Chapter Seventeen