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 Jars of Clay.
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: The boys head back to South Dakota after a visit from an unexpected visitor. Another woman arrives at Jo's odd prison and Nate reflects on a few things. The Winchester's visitor, however, isn't as unusual and terrifying as the one Noah has after his last class on a Friday afternoon. Grace (Heather) and Bobby reach a silent agreement - just as Castiel arrives in the salvage yard after being absent from both their lives and the brother's for nearly a week.
It was Astrid, a pale blond woman from Helsinki, who brought the news to Jo and the others that it was now the end of January. Jo felt that the lack of knowing how time was progressing was one of the most disturbing things of their being there. She'd not shared her thoughts on why Lucifer was keeping them there, that would just be inviting them into mass suicide. Astrid brought the group of women to five - the woman from Argentina was named Olivia. Rather than wait for the rest of the five beds to be filled and all of them forced into having roommates, all of them, except Astrid - paired up and started sharing rooms. Like the first three, Olivia and Astrid had been alone when they 'disappeared' - Olivia had been walking back to her apartment late at night and Astrid had been on her way home from making a supply run for an observatory in the far northern part of Finland.
It was Astrid who was also able to inform them that there didn't seem to a massive search underway for the other four - and, as she'd vanished from the cockpit of a small Cessna twin-engine plane, odds were, no one was going to be looking for her either. Jo was starting to get the impression that they'd all been given up for dead. Well, at least in the case of everyone except Kaori and Olivia - and possibly Cathy. As for her and Astrid... forget it. Of course, she hated to think the Winchester brothers and Bobby Singer would give up that easily. But they had other things to tackle - namely Lucifer himself. Very little changed in the room - the food remained of high quality and with new addition to the group, the choices in the food expanded - although Jo wasn't ready to try the sushi.
With the movies and the books growing dull - and the lack of much else to do, Kaori and Olivia had started teaching Jo and Cathy their respective languages of Japanese and Spanish - and in turn, the two of them taught the other two more English - including a lot of 'colorful' phrases that had been left out of Kaori and Olivia's classes on the subject. They also discovered a laundry room tucked into what they had originally thought was a closet - and, much like with the DVDs - the measure of time it took to clean something was no certain way of keeping time. Before Astrid arrived, after what they guessed to be about two or three hours after Olivia got up to speed with the others, they'd settled down to start watching Season 2 of The Tudors - three episodes later, an hour and a half by the player's standard - Astrid was there.
Jo knew that by this - it could already be the middle of February. If it was, and they were all arriving at a rate of one about every two weeks - then it should not be to much longer until the sixth member of the group arrived. But what didn't make sense was the large gap of time between when she arrived and when Cathy did. Perhaps it was timing - there was the whole attempted raising of Famine thing at the end of November. She sighed and tucked her hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling, listening to Cathy's very light snores as she slept. Or perhaps, just perhaps the girl from Brisbane was selected before the others for a certain reason. Sitting up, Jo curled up, wrapping her legs in her arms and resting her chin on her knees, observing her roommate. She tried to tell herself that the reason for the gap was other things started happening - but what if it isn't?
Giving up on sleep, Jo rose from her bed and went into the main room, where Astrid was sitting on one of the sofas, watching a movie she couldn't identify. “You couldn't sleep either?”
“Nae.” The woman sighed and sank further into the cushions. “Have you ever seen this?”
“I don't know what it is.” Jo sat down on the other end of the sofa.
“It's Babette's Feast. The villagers nursed the main character back to health... as payment, she spends her fortune on feeding the town a feast just like the one at the restaurant she worked at in Paris.”
“I've never even heard of that...” Jo took one of the pillows and hugged it to her.
“Not surprised. It's an old movie.” Astrid rested her head on the arm of the couch. “Where do you suppose we are?”
“I don't know.” Jo had tried not to think about it. “My grasp on what angels can do isn't to strong... for all we know, this entire place is a construct stuck in a closet, or something...”
Astrid closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them. “I wish I could go home. I suspect we all do...”
“Yeah...” Jo didn't want to mention she didn't really have a home - not since the Roadhouse burned to the ground three years ago. For all her mother's protests about her hunting, Jo's streak of rebellion had ended up saving her life. A lack of pretzels had saved her mother's... at least, until the fire. Jo still wanted her mom more than anything. She glanced over at Astrid, studying the woman with the same sort of discernment she'd looked at the others with. Like her, the woman was blond and pale skinned, but whereas Jo gave off an aura of toughness the girl from Finland seemed more... refined.
*
Nate closed his math book and started to put his finished homework back into his backpack for tomorrow - he was very glad tomorrow was Friday. He and Heather had gotten their first choice of books - The Quillian Games - and Heather had stated that she was going to go look for materials on Saturday. He already knew that she lived out at Singer Salvage Yard, five miles from where he did - but the distance might as well have been fifty in terms of living. Nate had only seen the owner of the salvage yard once, he and his dad had gone to Singer Salvage in search of a door for his mom's late model sedan. The place was strange to him - all chaos and, if he was perfectly honest, rather creepy. It was the sort of place where a zombie movie's climax would be set - or at least, a really good fight scene in it. If this is where Heather was now living, he came to the conclusion that Heather's parents had to be dead... he couldn't think of anyone going to live with the cantankerous Mr. Singer voluntarily. Given the fact that she called the man 'Uncle Bobby' he also had to wonder where the relation was... it was just to damn crazy. His weekend plans were just to watch the Superbowl with his dad - like they always did.
Nate left his room and went downstairs to the kitchen, where his mom was working on her grocery lists for tomorrow - he never understood why his mom, who stayed at home - waited until Friday to do the food shopping - he figured it had to be the sales. “Hey mom.”
“Hi. Finish your homework?” She looked up from the Hy-Vee add.
“Yeah.” He went to the fridge and took out the milk and poured himself a glass. “What's this week's big sale?”
“Same as it always is this time of year - junk food.” She shook her head and looked back down at her list.
“Dad not back from the Hall yet?” Nate's father was a member of their church's Knights of Columbus order.
“No... I think they're having some kind of degree thing tonight... I will never figure out how all that works...” She looked up and gave him a smile as he came over to the table. “Sort of like all those Boy Scout ranks of yours...”
Nate rolled his eyes as he sat down. “Mom, it's not that hard...”
“Humor your mother, young man.” She set her pen down. “Is something bothering you?”
“Sort of...” He took a deep gulp of milk. “It's just... there's this new kid in my class.. the girl I've got to do the diorama project with...” He sighed. “I uh... she's not said it directly but.... but I think she doesn't have any parents.”
Julia Turabian looked up from the add, her face drawn in slight worry. “What makes you think that?”
“Well, for one... she said there was a fire at her house... she told me she lost like, all her books except one of them... and uh... well, she lives with her uncle now... and she also mentioned her books wouldn't be replaced, which didn't make sense to me, because doesn't insurance cover that?”
“It does.” She shook her head. “Poor thing.”
“I mean... I don't know if her parents are dead... I... I really don't want to ask her, or anything.” He took another swallow of milk.
“Sounds to me like what that girl needs is a friend.” She gave her son a stern look. “I don't want you to go asking her to many questions.”
“I won't mom.” He drained the last of his milk. “I just wish I could do something to help her though. She doesn't really seem like the kind of person who'd ask for it...”
“Some people are like that, Nate.. they would rather try to deal with their problems in their own way - rather than to have people help them. They may need help, but they'd never admit it.”
“Still doesn't change the fact that they need it.”
“I know.” She sighed. “Just be patient with her on your project - I think that's probably the best thing you can do for her right now.”
“Okay mom.” He put his glass in the dishwasher. “Good night.”
“Night.”
After brushing his teeth, Nate went back into his room and paused when he came to his bookshelf. The thing was nearly packed with books - and he paused over his slightly-battered copy of The Quillian Games - he was about to pull it out and shove it into his backpack when he caught sight of the boxed set of hardback Pendragon books he'd gotten for Christmas. He pulled out the edition of Quillian from the set and put it into his bag. He tells himself this isn't charity and this isn't a gift - it's to help on their project. Besides, he doesn't need two copies of the book... and besides - he'd already written a very nice thank you to his grandmother for the gift.
She would understand why he did it. He hoped.
**
Sam had been in a lot of libraries in his life - and he had come to the conclusion that the Library of Congress was in fact, the quietest he'd ever been in. He figured a large part of that was the massive sign on the front doors that said no one under fifteen was admitted - not even for a tour, it seemed - and an equally intimidating stating that cell phones and pagers had to be turned off or put on vibrate - absolutely no exceptions. Dean had gone to the bathroom - the research was starting to get to him. So here Sam was, looking through records of unexplained phenomenon here in the capitol - there was enough information piled up around him for someone to write a graduate thesis on the subject. He was actually fairly engrossed in the supposed string of ghosts in the Smithsonian Institute that he hadn't noticed someone had sat down across the table from him for several minutes. When he did, he nearly jumped and was very relieved he managed not to shout.
Sitting across the table from him was a young man, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, with spiky blond hair and gray eyes. The dark hooded sweatshirt probably made him look younger than he was - and Sam watched as the boy tracked something behind him with his eyes and a moment later, Dean was sitting next to him.
“You got a problem, kid?” Dean said, his voice just above a whisper.
The boy looked from one to the other. “The devil's in town. The two of you should shag ass out of here before he finds out. Or rather finds out where you are, odds are, he already knows you're here.”
Sam frowned. “Who are you?”
“Let's just say I'm someone who doesn't want to see the world end.” His eyes flicked back from one brother to the other. He reached into his pocket and drew out a scrap of paper, holding it out to them. “When you're far enough away from here, call this number. My aunt Atty won't mind bringing you up to speed. Now the two of you get out of here before the devil turns this place to ash looking for Samuel and inadvertently instigates a nuclear holocaust.” With that the young man stood and walked away, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“Who the hell you think that was?” Sam said.
“I dunno, but if he's right, we have to get out of here.”
“Right with you.” Though he was loathe to leave the research behind. The two of them stood and went in the direction of the exit. Once they got into the Impala, Sam silently thankful they'd checked out of the motel in Maryland this morning he finally spoke. “Okay, so if we're off demon and angel radar, who could that have been?”
Dean pursed his lip as he maneuvered the car towards the interstate in the blessedly light traffic. “Pagan god.” He shook his head.
“I know that - they're just about the only thing left that can find us. Maybe we should look into getting some hex bag mojo to keep those guys away again.” He shivered involuntarily at the memory of the pair they'd run into in Michigan a few years ago. “The question is, which one was it?”
“Well...” Dean sighed. “I think Atty is one of the muses - which means we're dealing with another one of their group...” He shook his head as they pulled onto the interstate. “Come to think of it, how did we agree to leave so easily?” A moment later he glanced over at Sam and blinked - Sam wasn't Sam. It was the kid. “What the fuck?” The car jerked to the left and then to the right.
“You know, I'm risking my ass poking in your head like this.”
“I'm dreaming?” Dean said as he straightened the Impala out and the traffic was suddenly gone - there was nothing but open road.
“Yes, Sherlock, you're dreaming.”
“But the thing about Lucifer being in town?”
“Oh yeah, that's real.” The kid folded his arms and leaned back in his seat. “So as soon as you wake up, I'm suggesting you and your bro hightail it out of here.”
“Who are you?”
“They call me Sulley these days... after the big blue guy in Monsters Inc.”
“What's that?”
“You don't know one of your own kid's favorite movies?” He shook his head. “Look, I have to make this quick before someone catches me.”
“What is it?”
“I hate to break this to you, but stopping the Apocalypse just got a deadline.”
“Huh?”
“Lucifer has his heart set on getting something... I mean, besides your brother a vessel.” The boy took a deep breath. “What I said to you about Atty is true... and you'll find her number in your cell when you wake up. But I wouldn't suggest calling her right away... wait until you get a good distance from DC.” Sully shook his head. “If the first key says no to Lucifer, he'll attempt to get the second... because he won't wait the time he has to for the third.”
“Keys?”
“The keys are people - given the task and what he'll offer and threaten to do, I doubt the first will refuse. In that, you have until the twenty-seventh of March.”
“What if this guy says no?”
“Then you have until May second.” Sully smirked. “But somehow, I don't think you want Lucifer getting a hold of that key.” He shook his head. “Rise and shine, sleepy-head.” He leaned over and pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead and a moment later, Dean sat up in bed, breathing hard. It was four in the morning.
*
The Winchesters were no stranger to leaving in the middle of the night. The fact that they were leaving early enough to avoid rush hour was almost a plus. Sam took another sip of his coffee from the cardboard to-go cup, still not entirely awake. “So he said that these people were keys of some kind?”
“Yeah.” Dean kept one hand gripped on the steering wheel. “Today's the twenty-ninth of January... what do you suppose the deal is with March twenty-seventh. Something happen that day?”
“I'm not sure... but why that day...” He rubbed his eyes. “Less than two months... what do you think the keys are to, anyway?” He took another sip of coffee as they left Maryland and headed into Pennsylvania.
“Something Lucifer wants that he can't get himself... but....” He frowned. “You think the key he's after is Noah Levin?”
“Possibly... if he is what we think he is...” Sam sank down slightly. “Shit... that would probably make Heather key number two...”
“Fuck.” Dean snarled. “Good thing she can see angels...and she knows what's going on.”
“True.” Sam rubbed his eyes. “I take it this means you want to head back to South Dakota just to be doubly sure, right?”
“Absolutely. The sooner, the better.”
“Maybe that's what makes them keys... the ability to see angels.”
“We don't know if Noah can see them or not.” Dean shook his head. “I don't like this. I just hope Cas's phone starts working again... it's been a week.”
“Yeah...” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “You check to see if that number is in your phone?”
“No...” He dug into his pocket and handed the phone to his brother. “You check.”
Sam frowned as he scrolled through the numbers. “What am I looking for?”
“Atty... or possibly Sully.” Dean said, shifting the Impala into another lane and then to an off-ramp that put them on I-70 west. He had a feeling the visitor in his head might have left his own for some other purpose.
“Sully....” Sam frowned. “Sully as in the big blue monster from Monsters Inc?”
“You've heard of it?”
“Dude,” Sam said, surprised. “It's a Pixar film... it's probably the only monster movie I actually have seen and liked.”
*
“No answer?” Dean said after another hour.
“No.” Sam frowned. “So anyway... you wanted to know who Sully is.”
“Yeah.”
“It's this silly movie about the monsters that live in kid's closets and collect screams for energy in their monster world... but it turns out the monsters are actually scared of the kids - it's been a long time since I've seen it, but in the end, they find out that children's laughter is actually a better power source...”
“Sounds horrible.” Dean shook his head.
“It's not that bad...” Sam frowned - he didn't want to mention the fact he'd only seen the movie because Jess had owned the DVD of it and loved said film. “Okay... so this guy was manipulating the whole dream?”
“It was weird... I mean... I swore it was real until he turned from you into himself... or at least, how he chose to look. These pagans are starting to piss me off as much as angels.” Dean shook his head. “He said he had special permission for being there... in my dreams or what have you...but was scared of someone finding him there.”
“Wait a second...” Sam leaned down and opened up his backpack and pulled a book out of it. “I think I know who your visitor might have been.” He flipped through a few pages. “Here he is... Morpheus... the Greek god of dreams... how the Greeks got tangled up in this angel and demon stuff so thoroughly is beyond me... I mean, it can't be just setting up camp next to Israel.” He chuckled. “This guy is pretty much both the monster under the bed and the thing that comes and kills it.”
“That's twisted. I'm starting to wonder just what is myth in that book and what's real.” He shook his head.
“You and me both.” Sam frowned and scrolled through the contact list on his own phone. “I keep thinking that there's something about the twenty-seventh of March... like something happened...”
“It's not anyone's birthday...” He frowned. “Wait... Morpheus said that the second possible deadline was May second... makes me wonder what the third one is.” He frowned. “Who are you calling?”
“Bobby... see if he can help us figure out this date thing...” He hit the number for the home number for the house in the salvage yard. “It's just after eight there, he should be up.” The phone rang twice before it was answered.
“Singer Salvage.”
Sam frowned. “Heather?” He double checked his watch. “Aren't you supposed to be at school?”
“No school today on account of the good people of the Sioux Falls School District deciding that making students wait in minus thirty degree wind-chill for a bus was inhumane and could lead to some very big lawsuits.” Heather was sitting at Bobby's desk, slowly flipping through a book.
“Yeah... say, could you put Bobby on the phone?” Sam grinned slightly.
“I would, but he's currently asleep nursing a very, very nasty cold - he told me if I disturbed him again he'd sell me to the circus.” Heather stood up and moved towards the kitchen and refilled her juice glass.
Sam gave Dean a sideways glance. He wondered if she was normally so talkative. “You haven't been sick, have you?”
“No...” She frowned. “I've not had a cold since December...there's a couple of kids in my class who are sick too, but that's typical.”
“Good thing we're headed back to Sioux Falls then. Say, can you look something up for us?”
He had a feeling Heather was looking around at all the books in the library. “Please tell me it's something simple.”
“Yeah it is...” He chuckled. “Can you look up March twenty-seventh for any sort of out of the ordinary events?”
“One second...” There was a thud of a glass on wood and a scrape of chair.
“No problem.” Sam took another sip of coffee.
“Uh, how far back do you want me to look?”
He thought for a moment. “Any time after nineteen seventy.”
“Sure...” Heather was humming a song Sam didn't know under her breath. “I don't know what you mean by out of the ordinary. It's not like they list those sort of things... do you mean like, disasters or something?”
“Yeah...”
“Uh...” She let out a soft curse. “Like something that kills five hundred and eighty three people?”
Sam was glad he hadn't taken another sip of coffee. “How many?”
“Five hundred and eighty three.” There was a shuffle of noise. “Yeah, the Tenerife Airport Disaster... two planes crashed into one another... or something...”
“Tenerife... where is that?” Sam shot a look another look at Dean, who was trying to both drive and pay attention to the conversation.
“The Canary Islands... those are off the coast of Morocco.... that was in nineteen seventy-seven.” Another shuffling noise - it sounded like she took a drink of something. “Is that the kind of thing you were talking about?”
“Yeah..” Sam took another sip of coffee. “Look, don't worry about it... we're just trying to figure something out.”
“No problem.” She took a deep breath. “You know how you told me to tell you guys if something weird started happening... or happened?”
“Uh huh...”
“Well, there's this kid in my class at school.... um, I think he can see angels too. He's not said anything, but he was sitting front of me and Cas at church on Christmas... and he kind of looked over where Cas's head is... like he saw something more.”
“Anything else going on?”
“No, just that.” He heard Heather take another sip of whatever she was drinking.
“Okay... well, we should be back by tomorrow afternoon. We'll talk more when we get back.”
“Sure. Drive carefully.”
“We will. Take care of yourself.” Sam hung up the phone.
“What'd she find out?” Dean asked as he swerved past an eighteen wheeler.
“There was a plane disaster on March twenty-seventh in nineteen seventy seven... killed almost six hundred people.” He saw his older brother shudder in response - both to the mention of 'plane disaster' and the number of casualties. “She also said that there's a kid in her class who can see angels - she thinks.”
“Thinks?” Dean cursed softly as he slowed the Impala down and they headed into a construction zone.
“Yeah, she's basing it off a look he gave Cas in church on Christmas.” He shook his head. “I'd just like to know what the keys are keys to... are they gates or something?”
“Gates to what?” Dean shook his head. “Can't be to Hell and I don't think it'd be to Heaven... and Melpomene told me that the half-blood children didn't have any special powers.”
“What if....” Sam pulled at his bottom lip for a moment. “The day you went to Hell.. that was May second.... what if the keys to whatever it is they're keys to can only be done on the day their fathers died?”
Dean shot a look over at his brother. “That's crazy.”
“No, it'd make some sense...”
“I am not getting on a plane.” Dean said through clenched teeth.
“I don't think we'll need to...” Sam took another sip of his coffee. “I say we find out what Lucifer wants with the key... I guess we should just say Noah - and then figure out how to stop it.”
**
No one paid much attention to the man standing next to the door as they piled out of their last class of the week. Thoughts of going out, of the upcoming Superbowl Sunday and other plans edged out all others as they left the room, some chatting with friends, others putting on their earphones and flipping through their I-Pod play-lists and others checking phone messages. Lucifer watched them all with a very detached state of mind - hating them for nothing more than existing. He shifted his gaze to stare at a poster across the hallway, advertising some theater production. He wasn't concerned about having trouble with the man in the room. Humans might be flawed, but they were remarkably pliable about so many things. Like the animals they were, they responded to threats to their family very quickly.
“Are you okay?” A voice cut into his musings and he turned towards the voice, his face turning to a sneer as he was met with the gaze of a young girl, probably no older than nineteen. She took one look at his face and shrank back. “Sorry...”
Lucifer felt the corner of his mouth twitch. This smelly thing was actually concerned about him even though she was scared. “I'm perfectly fine.” He could read her thoughts clear as day. There was something almost endearing about the what she was thinking. She was worried he might be ill and in need of some kind of medical help. It's not like Nick's holding out all that well. “I just need to talk to Noah.”
“Oh, you know Doctor Levin?” She smiled.
“You might say that.”
“I'm the last person out... and sorry I was uh...” She went pink. “I was just concerned... about uh...” She made a small gesture on the side of her face. “Allergic reaction?”
Lucifer felt the corners of his mouth lift. This was just plain, old fashioned excellent - it was almost like he was meeting Lilith all over again in the Garden of Eden. He knew he was going to be having fun in this girl's dreams tonight. “Something like that.”
“Eh...” She made a very poor attempt at hiding a grimace, but her concern was still evident. “I hope you feel better soon.” She gave him a small wave and headed down the hallway.
Lucifer quietly shut the door behind him as he went into the classroom, the lock clicking silently. He got to the front row of desks, still completely unnoticed, just as he had planned. The room was on the third story - so there was no chance of an onlooker. He straightened his shoulders and broke the silence. “Noah Daniel.”
Noah's face jerked upward from the papers he was sorting and two seconds later, he was flat against the wall in shock. “uh...uh...” He looked from the man standing between the fourth and fifth desks to what was behind, in - somehow connected to the man and then back again. “Holy shit....” He visibly winced.
Lucifer felt an upsurge of delight. The man was both frightened and enthralled by him - and he could see him. “Noah Daniel.” He said again - he was going to milk this for all it was worth.
“I uh...” Noah was struck dumb. He swore the two angels he'd seen at Christmas were a figment of his imagination, but this - this was entirely different. He couldn't be imagining this. He remembered the larger of the two from Christmas... the one close to ten feet tall... how this one could even stand upright in a room with eight foot ceilings... no, it wasn't standing upright... it was sitting down.... it had to be... It was sitting down and it's head was nearly at the ceiling - making the angel nearly twelve feet tall. The wings were another story all together. He sank to the floor, staring upward, his face awash in shock and awe. “Who... what...”
Lucifer strode to the desk and looked down at the cowering man on the other side. “Noah Daniel?” He asked again.
“Ye.... yes?”
He smiled in response, looking him over. “You have your mother's eyes....” He effortlessly moved so that he was sitting on the desk, still gazing down at him. “You're not the only one they abandoned... she's abandoned your siblings as well...” He shrugged, as if the matter was nothing. “Not that she wanted to...”
“How... how do you know who....” Noah mentally kicked himself for even thinking the question. This was an angel he was talking to, after all.
“But you are the only one I've had the pleasure of meeting.” He smiled again. “I need you to do something for me.”
“Wh... what do you need me to do?” Please don't say I have to kill someone, please, please, please...
“Oh, I'd never ask you to kill someone.” Lucifer leaned forward. “It's actually very, very easy...I just need you to be somewhere.... on a certain day.”
“Where.... when?” Please don't say the ruins of Antioch or something involving a long, long plane ride... please...
“It's not that far.” He replied, answering the man's thoughts again. This was starting to be fun. “I need you to go to Bethel, New York.... I need you to be there no later than sundown on the twenty-sixth of March. Can you do that for me?” He leaned forward slightly, flexing his wings of his true form so that he had the man completely surrounded.
Noah had never seen such pure whiteness in his life. He felt his fingernails digging into his palms, trying to remain calm. “B...Bethel?” Why did that name sound familiar?
“Yes. I need... something opened. I can't do it... only three people in the entire world can do it...” He shifted his gaze from intimidating to compassionate. “And the other two are children... they can't get there in time...” He knew he struck the right cord mentioning children.
“I... I can do that....” Noah would have dearly have loved to stand at that point. “I... can be in Bethel....”
Lucifer moved again so he was crouched in front of Noah, setting a hand on the man's face. “Thank you, Noah Daniel.” He drew back. “In return for this...” He studied the man's face, smiling. “I'll tell you who your birth parents are... I'll even find your sister's too...” He could see the sheer wonder on the man's face at the very idea of it. “And anything else you might want... and I mean anything.”
“I... I should come alone, yes?”
“Yes, Noah.” Lucifer drew back. “I will see you in March.” With that, he vanished.
Once alone, Noah sat there for another five full minutes before regaining the strength to stand and gather his things. As he headed back to his office, still in a state of shock, he was trying to figure out why Bethel should sound so familiar... and it wasn't the similarity of the name to Bethlehem. He resolved to put the task he'd just accepted into the back of his mind... at least until around spring break... six weeks from now.
**
Grace hadn't mentioned it, but this past week had been nothing short of horrible. Ever since Sunday night, she and Uncle Bobby had probably exchanged no more than twenty words, none of them over two syllables. Okay, so she'd gotten angry - but she was a kid - she was under the belief that God knew what he was doing and she should just accept that. It wasn't like she was an expert in theology or anything... just like everyone else around here, she was doing the best she could. Unfortunately, she was in a camp of one and everyone else was out to try and prevent what was happening. But she hadn't appreciated being treated like she was stupid. Perhaps because she was so new to all this she still had the luxury of looking at it from an outsider's point of view. Yes, it sucked and yes things were getting bad. That's why they call it the end of the world. Her worry wasn't that things were so bad now, but they were going to get worse. Fire, frogs and locusts weren't exactly raining down from the sky yet. She prayed it wouldn't get that far.
With her homework already done, there wasn't much for her to do except surf the Internet or watch television. Uncle Bobby wouldn't let her clean guns or make rock-salt rounds unsupervised, it was to cold to go outside and he also didn't want her messing with his books, stating he had them a 'certain' way - never mind that a week ago, he'd let her read just about anything she wanted as long as she put them back where she found them. Neither prospect appealed to her, she'd only been idly looking through the book on Bobby's desk as it was out. She frowned and went into the kitchen. Bobby had been sick for two days and had been rather waspish the whole time. She didn't blame him - Grace figured the only reason he stayed in bed today was the fact that she was there. She looked into the cupboard and grimaced. She'd been living off leftovers and peanut butter for the past few days while Bobby had been subsisting on ramen noodles and toast. She took a mental inventory and then checked the freezer. Maybe a decent meal might improve both her mood and Bobby's. How hard could a casserole possibly be?
*
Bobby hated to be sick - he was glad it was just congestion and a slight fever, rather than a full on raging flu. He knew where he'd gotten it, of course. The guy who came by on Monday and purchased a few items had been hacked several times. He figured Heather would probably come down with the same bug due to exposure to him before the weekend. It wasn't normal for a cold to knock him down so hard, but he'd deal with it... he always had. He was considering another dose of medicine when there was a timid knock on his door. “Yeah, kid?”
Heather poked her head inside the room. “I was just checking to see if you needed anything.”
“If I need something, I will let you know.” He coughed, grimacing.
“I was just kind of worried, cause you haven't eaten anything....I mean, for a while anyway...” She bit her bottom lip, frowning.
“Not hungry.” He rubbed his face. “Did the phone ring this morning?”
“Yeah. Sam and Dean are on their way back... they said they should be back by tomorrow.”
“Bout time those idjits came back here.” He coughed again. “What time is it anyway?”
“It's just a little after five....” She bit her lip again. “Uh... you want some dinner?”
Bobby groaned inwardly at the thought of more canned soup or ramen noodles - but he gave the girl credit for at least being understanding with him today. He was far from a good patient. “Sure kid.” The sooner he ate, the sooner she'd leave him alone. This past week hadn't been all to easy for him or her. If he didn't know better, he would have thought John Winchester arranged for the girl to get a double dose of the infamous Winchester Stubbornness just so she could come here and drive him insane. Though he knew what was really going on. The angel was pissed at the whole seemingly unstoppable situation, at the apparent apathy of his father and was downright furious at Heather's mother for some reason - and with no one else to lash out at, Castiel had dumped his rage on the girl. Bobby wasn't to surprised at the incident... he was angry too, and sure, he'd lashed out at Heather also - and then started feeling guilty yesterday. She was a kid who'd had the sort of upbringing most people would kill for. But she'd stood up to the two of them probably a little better than most would. It'd been on his mind for most of today to try and sort things out, but the fever and the congestion kept his mind occupied. Of course, if Cas had mentioned why he was so pissed at Melpomene, that would help too. He covered a sneeze with a Kleenex as the door opened again and Heather came in with a tray. He was glad he had started to tell her to put a tablespoon of chili-powder in with the beef ramen.. it really made a difference. When he looked down, however, he was surprised. “What the hell is this?”
“It's casserole.” Heather's voice was barely edged in indignation.
“I can see that it is... where did you get it?”
“I mugged the grandmother next door.” She snickered at the look on his face in reply. “Where do you think it came from? I made it.”
“You...” He gave her a skeptical look. “Where'd you learn how to do that?”
“That's actually the first one I've made...” She bit her bottom lip. “So uh...”
Bobby knew he had an apprehensive look on his face as he took a small bite of the concoction. To his surprise, it wasn't half bad - and that wasn't because he'd not had anything substantial in three days. “Where'd you get the recipe, kid?”
“Internet... it's Sloppy Joe meets Mac 'n Cheese, or something like that.” She headed back towards the door. “You want anything else?”
“No, I'm good...” He was surprised that she'd actually put a bottle of beer on the tray as well. “What's with this?” He indicated the bottle. “I didn't ask for this...”
“I know, but I think all that orange juice is making you more surly than usual.”
Bobby threw back his head and laughed, punctuated by several coughs after each one. “You could have a point.” He cleared his throat. “Thanks, kid.”
“No problem. Let me know if you need anything else.” Heather went out of the room and he heard her go back to the kitchen.
Bobby took another, larger, bite of the casserole. He decided it was worth giving her permission to start looking at the books again. None of this Apocalypse mess was her fault... just like him, she'd gotten dragged into it without asking. He'd only been more prepared than her to that end.
*
It was around eight when Bobby decided to get out of bed. Heather had come back for the tray earlier and well, the old hunter was a little sick of staying in his room for the entire day. He was never a fan of confinement and the wheelchair was bad enough. He also learned that he was a lot more congested than he previously thought - because when he got to the library, it was apparent what Heather had been doing with her day. The library was untouched, but the kitchen was spotless and smelled of a mix of spices, chocolate and lemon cleaner. He wheeled himself to the threshold and studied the girl's back as she calmly washed dishes, knowing she can't hear him -she's wearing headphones. He shook his head and went back to his desk, leaving her to her cleaning. From the looks of things, she'd made several casseroles - and the rest were probably in the freezer. He frowned at that - his freezer wasn't that big. “Heather?” He turned.
She pulled the phones down and turned. “Yes?”
“How many casseroles did you make today?”
“Just three - including the one we had for dinner.”
“Three...” He knew she wasn't dumb enough to put a burning hot casserole dish into the freezer. “Mind telling me how you got two other ones baked, cooled and put away without me noticing?”
She grinned at him. “Well, it's only five below outside... I covered them both with foil, set them on that table on the porch... just took an hour each.”
“Good job, kiddo.” He turned and headed for his desk while Heather pulled her headphones back on and went back to scrubbing a pan. The calm of the evening was abruptly shattered, however, when Castiel appeared - well, more like fell - in the middle of the kitchen.
The angel groaned and rolled over onto his back, wincing in pain. He knew that at least here, in this house, he was mostly safe. He wasn't sure of just how badly he was injured until he saw Heather's face appear above him and heard the soft squeak of Bobby's wheelchair near his ear.
“What the hell has he been fighting?” That was the old hunter's voice - it was hard to stay awake.
“If I had to guess, I'd say a dragon...or maybe a demon that's not possessing someone?”
“A demon in true form?”
“Yeah....”
That was the last thing Castiel remembered before darkness washed over him.
**
Dean was on his fourth driving shift - he and Sam had elected not to stop for the night but to keep alternating every two hours so they could make the nearly twenty one hour drive back to Sioux Falls in one straight trip, rather than dividing it up. Thankfully, there was no snow or ice falling as they traveled along I-80. It was two in the morning and they were nearly there. He'd called back at the end of his last shift - at eleven - Heather had answered and said she'd stay up to let them into the house. Seeing the sign that it was twenty miles to Sioux Falls was a huge relief. They hadn't been back to Bobby's in nearly a month - a record for them these days. The sleep he'd gotten in the car was horrible - not that it was ever decent, but this had been exceptionally bad sleep. He blamed it on the information about that plane wreck thirty some odd years ago and stress. The damned thing was probably irrelevant, but that sort of horror - planes weren't supposed to crash while still on the ground, for fuck's sake - just kept coming back to him. He glanced over at Sam who was snoring away, oblivious. His brother often gave him a hard time about his absolute fear of flying - but he never could quite find the words to explain what it was about planes that scared the crap out of him. Monsters, demons, werewolves, shape-shifters - hell, even angels he could deal with. Planes, however, were a problem. Planes crashed. They crashed a lot. Shaking his head as he pulled the Impala off the familiar exit to the small rural highway that ran a few miles away from the salvage yard was the same as always - freshly salted and sanded, from the looks of it. He slowed the car down, wary of black ice.
There was something rather comforting when he finally drove the car into the yard and saw the light burning in the library and the curl of smoke from the chimney. “Sam.” He nudged his brother. “We're there.”
Sam groaned softly and opened his eyes. “What time is it?”
“Late.” Dean rubbed his face as he turned the car off and pocketed the keys. “Come on, few more minutes and we can get some decent sleep.”
“Yeah...” Sam shrugged into his coat and when he opened the door, he winced at the cold. “See why they called school off...” He said, groggily.
“No kidding.” Dean made sure the doors were locked before going to the trunk to retrieve their duffel bags. “I don't know if I want to sleep or eat first.”
Sam yawned. “Sleep.” He tossed his bag over his shoulder as the two of them made their way across the sparse yard to the door by the kitchen. “Looks like it's been snowing here almost constantly.”
“Well, it's not like they've had much need to shovel the drive...” Dean said as they went up the small porch and he knocked on the door. A minute later, they heard the lock click back and door creaked open. A very tired looking red-headed girl stuck her head out and looked at them.
Heather narrowed her eyes. “Whatever you're selling, we've already got ten of them in the basement.”
“Funny, Gracie.” Dean replied as she stepped aside to let them in. “Bobby sleeping?”
“Yeah. He's been out cold since about ten thirty...” She locked the door behind them. “There's leftover casserole in the fridge if you want to eat something before you go to bed.” She yawned. “And before you ask, no, I don't know what happened to Cas, nor does Bobby.”
“Cas?” Dean frowned. “He's here?”
Sam stepped into the doorway and looked into the library at the unconscious angel. “Holy...” He turned. “What...”
“I was washing dishes, Uncle Bobby was going to go do some research or somethin'” She yawned again. “And Cas sort of fell... right in the middle of the room.” Rubbing her face and following the two brothers as they went into the library to look down at their wounded friend. “We patched him up... put him to bed there...and he's been quiet all that time.”
Cas was, in Dean's opinion, a very pathetic sight. His face was bruised and there was a bandage wrapped around the arm free from the covers. Just over the edge of the blankets, he could make out more bruises and bandages. “Shit.” It was scary seeing the former fierce angel slumbering like the dead. “I take it he looked a lot worse when he arrived.”
“Yeah.” Heather rubbed her face. “He actually looked a ton better after we got him out of his coat and stuff... and after we got the blood cleaned off... vast improvement.”
“Damn.” Sam said, looking Cas over. “Wait... you helped Bobby patch him up?”
“No, the invisible turtles did it.” She rubbed her face again. “The only injury he had below his waist was this pretty wicked looking cut on his leg...” Her shoulders slumped. “Could we possibly put off the game of twenty questions until...” She looked at her hand and waggled her fingers for a moment. “Six, maybe seven hours of sleep?”
“Sure... go ahead.” Dean said, rubbing his eyes. “G'nite Gracie.”
“Night Dean, night Sam.” Heather replied and made her way up the stairs. “Oh..” She paused halfway up. “If Cas wakes up and asks about his coat, tell him I cleaned out the pockets...it's no longer in wearable condition, it was in about ten pieces.”
“What was in the pockets?” Sam asked. “I mean, besides a cell phone?”
“Some newspaper clippings... one is in Japanese, another in Spanish... and the third one is in some Scandinavian language... I spent the last two hours on the Internet, figured out it's in Finnish... something about a woman named Astrid Peltola... vanished earlier this week...” She went the rest of the way upstairs and disappeared into her room.
Dean set his bag down next to the couch. “I'll stay down here, in case Cas wakes up or something.”
“You sure?” He moved towards the stairs.
“Yeah, Sam.” Dean went over to the hall closet and got out a spare pillow and blanket that was kept there.
“Okay. Night.” He went upstairs.
“Night, Sammy.” He set the items on the couch and then sat down to remove his boots. After brushing his teeth and turning off the few lights that were still on and settled down on the couch. He fell asleep almost as soon as he shut his eyes.
Chapter Eighteen
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 Jars of Clay.
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: The boys head back to South Dakota after a visit from an unexpected visitor. Another woman arrives at Jo's odd prison and Nate reflects on a few things. The Winchester's visitor, however, isn't as unusual and terrifying as the one Noah has after his last class on a Friday afternoon. Grace (Heather) and Bobby reach a silent agreement - just as Castiel arrives in the salvage yard after being absent from both their lives and the brother's for nearly a week.
It was Astrid, a pale blond woman from Helsinki, who brought the news to Jo and the others that it was now the end of January. Jo felt that the lack of knowing how time was progressing was one of the most disturbing things of their being there. She'd not shared her thoughts on why Lucifer was keeping them there, that would just be inviting them into mass suicide. Astrid brought the group of women to five - the woman from Argentina was named Olivia. Rather than wait for the rest of the five beds to be filled and all of them forced into having roommates, all of them, except Astrid - paired up and started sharing rooms. Like the first three, Olivia and Astrid had been alone when they 'disappeared' - Olivia had been walking back to her apartment late at night and Astrid had been on her way home from making a supply run for an observatory in the far northern part of Finland.
It was Astrid who was also able to inform them that there didn't seem to a massive search underway for the other four - and, as she'd vanished from the cockpit of a small Cessna twin-engine plane, odds were, no one was going to be looking for her either. Jo was starting to get the impression that they'd all been given up for dead. Well, at least in the case of everyone except Kaori and Olivia - and possibly Cathy. As for her and Astrid... forget it. Of course, she hated to think the Winchester brothers and Bobby Singer would give up that easily. But they had other things to tackle - namely Lucifer himself. Very little changed in the room - the food remained of high quality and with new addition to the group, the choices in the food expanded - although Jo wasn't ready to try the sushi.
With the movies and the books growing dull - and the lack of much else to do, Kaori and Olivia had started teaching Jo and Cathy their respective languages of Japanese and Spanish - and in turn, the two of them taught the other two more English - including a lot of 'colorful' phrases that had been left out of Kaori and Olivia's classes on the subject. They also discovered a laundry room tucked into what they had originally thought was a closet - and, much like with the DVDs - the measure of time it took to clean something was no certain way of keeping time. Before Astrid arrived, after what they guessed to be about two or three hours after Olivia got up to speed with the others, they'd settled down to start watching Season 2 of The Tudors - three episodes later, an hour and a half by the player's standard - Astrid was there.
Jo knew that by this - it could already be the middle of February. If it was, and they were all arriving at a rate of one about every two weeks - then it should not be to much longer until the sixth member of the group arrived. But what didn't make sense was the large gap of time between when she arrived and when Cathy did. Perhaps it was timing - there was the whole attempted raising of Famine thing at the end of November. She sighed and tucked her hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling, listening to Cathy's very light snores as she slept. Or perhaps, just perhaps the girl from Brisbane was selected before the others for a certain reason. Sitting up, Jo curled up, wrapping her legs in her arms and resting her chin on her knees, observing her roommate. She tried to tell herself that the reason for the gap was other things started happening - but what if it isn't?
Giving up on sleep, Jo rose from her bed and went into the main room, where Astrid was sitting on one of the sofas, watching a movie she couldn't identify. “You couldn't sleep either?”
“Nae.” The woman sighed and sank further into the cushions. “Have you ever seen this?”
“I don't know what it is.” Jo sat down on the other end of the sofa.
“It's Babette's Feast. The villagers nursed the main character back to health... as payment, she spends her fortune on feeding the town a feast just like the one at the restaurant she worked at in Paris.”
“I've never even heard of that...” Jo took one of the pillows and hugged it to her.
“Not surprised. It's an old movie.” Astrid rested her head on the arm of the couch. “Where do you suppose we are?”
“I don't know.” Jo had tried not to think about it. “My grasp on what angels can do isn't to strong... for all we know, this entire place is a construct stuck in a closet, or something...”
Astrid closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them. “I wish I could go home. I suspect we all do...”
“Yeah...” Jo didn't want to mention she didn't really have a home - not since the Roadhouse burned to the ground three years ago. For all her mother's protests about her hunting, Jo's streak of rebellion had ended up saving her life. A lack of pretzels had saved her mother's... at least, until the fire. Jo still wanted her mom more than anything. She glanced over at Astrid, studying the woman with the same sort of discernment she'd looked at the others with. Like her, the woman was blond and pale skinned, but whereas Jo gave off an aura of toughness the girl from Finland seemed more... refined.
*
Nate closed his math book and started to put his finished homework back into his backpack for tomorrow - he was very glad tomorrow was Friday. He and Heather had gotten their first choice of books - The Quillian Games - and Heather had stated that she was going to go look for materials on Saturday. He already knew that she lived out at Singer Salvage Yard, five miles from where he did - but the distance might as well have been fifty in terms of living. Nate had only seen the owner of the salvage yard once, he and his dad had gone to Singer Salvage in search of a door for his mom's late model sedan. The place was strange to him - all chaos and, if he was perfectly honest, rather creepy. It was the sort of place where a zombie movie's climax would be set - or at least, a really good fight scene in it. If this is where Heather was now living, he came to the conclusion that Heather's parents had to be dead... he couldn't think of anyone going to live with the cantankerous Mr. Singer voluntarily. Given the fact that she called the man 'Uncle Bobby' he also had to wonder where the relation was... it was just to damn crazy. His weekend plans were just to watch the Superbowl with his dad - like they always did.
Nate left his room and went downstairs to the kitchen, where his mom was working on her grocery lists for tomorrow - he never understood why his mom, who stayed at home - waited until Friday to do the food shopping - he figured it had to be the sales. “Hey mom.”
“Hi. Finish your homework?” She looked up from the Hy-Vee add.
“Yeah.” He went to the fridge and took out the milk and poured himself a glass. “What's this week's big sale?”
“Same as it always is this time of year - junk food.” She shook her head and looked back down at her list.
“Dad not back from the Hall yet?” Nate's father was a member of their church's Knights of Columbus order.
“No... I think they're having some kind of degree thing tonight... I will never figure out how all that works...” She looked up and gave him a smile as he came over to the table. “Sort of like all those Boy Scout ranks of yours...”
Nate rolled his eyes as he sat down. “Mom, it's not that hard...”
“Humor your mother, young man.” She set her pen down. “Is something bothering you?”
“Sort of...” He took a deep gulp of milk. “It's just... there's this new kid in my class.. the girl I've got to do the diorama project with...” He sighed. “I uh... she's not said it directly but.... but I think she doesn't have any parents.”
Julia Turabian looked up from the add, her face drawn in slight worry. “What makes you think that?”
“Well, for one... she said there was a fire at her house... she told me she lost like, all her books except one of them... and uh... well, she lives with her uncle now... and she also mentioned her books wouldn't be replaced, which didn't make sense to me, because doesn't insurance cover that?”
“It does.” She shook her head. “Poor thing.”
“I mean... I don't know if her parents are dead... I... I really don't want to ask her, or anything.” He took another swallow of milk.
“Sounds to me like what that girl needs is a friend.” She gave her son a stern look. “I don't want you to go asking her to many questions.”
“I won't mom.” He drained the last of his milk. “I just wish I could do something to help her though. She doesn't really seem like the kind of person who'd ask for it...”
“Some people are like that, Nate.. they would rather try to deal with their problems in their own way - rather than to have people help them. They may need help, but they'd never admit it.”
“Still doesn't change the fact that they need it.”
“I know.” She sighed. “Just be patient with her on your project - I think that's probably the best thing you can do for her right now.”
“Okay mom.” He put his glass in the dishwasher. “Good night.”
“Night.”
After brushing his teeth, Nate went back into his room and paused when he came to his bookshelf. The thing was nearly packed with books - and he paused over his slightly-battered copy of The Quillian Games - he was about to pull it out and shove it into his backpack when he caught sight of the boxed set of hardback Pendragon books he'd gotten for Christmas. He pulled out the edition of Quillian from the set and put it into his bag. He tells himself this isn't charity and this isn't a gift - it's to help on their project. Besides, he doesn't need two copies of the book... and besides - he'd already written a very nice thank you to his grandmother for the gift.
She would understand why he did it. He hoped.
**
Sam had been in a lot of libraries in his life - and he had come to the conclusion that the Library of Congress was in fact, the quietest he'd ever been in. He figured a large part of that was the massive sign on the front doors that said no one under fifteen was admitted - not even for a tour, it seemed - and an equally intimidating stating that cell phones and pagers had to be turned off or put on vibrate - absolutely no exceptions. Dean had gone to the bathroom - the research was starting to get to him. So here Sam was, looking through records of unexplained phenomenon here in the capitol - there was enough information piled up around him for someone to write a graduate thesis on the subject. He was actually fairly engrossed in the supposed string of ghosts in the Smithsonian Institute that he hadn't noticed someone had sat down across the table from him for several minutes. When he did, he nearly jumped and was very relieved he managed not to shout.
Sitting across the table from him was a young man, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, with spiky blond hair and gray eyes. The dark hooded sweatshirt probably made him look younger than he was - and Sam watched as the boy tracked something behind him with his eyes and a moment later, Dean was sitting next to him.
“You got a problem, kid?” Dean said, his voice just above a whisper.
The boy looked from one to the other. “The devil's in town. The two of you should shag ass out of here before he finds out. Or rather finds out where you are, odds are, he already knows you're here.”
Sam frowned. “Who are you?”
“Let's just say I'm someone who doesn't want to see the world end.” His eyes flicked back from one brother to the other. He reached into his pocket and drew out a scrap of paper, holding it out to them. “When you're far enough away from here, call this number. My aunt Atty won't mind bringing you up to speed. Now the two of you get out of here before the devil turns this place to ash looking for Samuel and inadvertently instigates a nuclear holocaust.” With that the young man stood and walked away, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“Who the hell you think that was?” Sam said.
“I dunno, but if he's right, we have to get out of here.”
“Right with you.” Though he was loathe to leave the research behind. The two of them stood and went in the direction of the exit. Once they got into the Impala, Sam silently thankful they'd checked out of the motel in Maryland this morning he finally spoke. “Okay, so if we're off demon and angel radar, who could that have been?”
Dean pursed his lip as he maneuvered the car towards the interstate in the blessedly light traffic. “Pagan god.” He shook his head.
“I know that - they're just about the only thing left that can find us. Maybe we should look into getting some hex bag mojo to keep those guys away again.” He shivered involuntarily at the memory of the pair they'd run into in Michigan a few years ago. “The question is, which one was it?”
“Well...” Dean sighed. “I think Atty is one of the muses - which means we're dealing with another one of their group...” He shook his head as they pulled onto the interstate. “Come to think of it, how did we agree to leave so easily?” A moment later he glanced over at Sam and blinked - Sam wasn't Sam. It was the kid. “What the fuck?” The car jerked to the left and then to the right.
“You know, I'm risking my ass poking in your head like this.”
“I'm dreaming?” Dean said as he straightened the Impala out and the traffic was suddenly gone - there was nothing but open road.
“Yes, Sherlock, you're dreaming.”
“But the thing about Lucifer being in town?”
“Oh yeah, that's real.” The kid folded his arms and leaned back in his seat. “So as soon as you wake up, I'm suggesting you and your bro hightail it out of here.”
“Who are you?”
“They call me Sulley these days... after the big blue guy in Monsters Inc.”
“What's that?”
“You don't know one of your own kid's favorite movies?” He shook his head. “Look, I have to make this quick before someone catches me.”
“What is it?”
“I hate to break this to you, but stopping the Apocalypse just got a deadline.”
“Huh?”
“Lucifer has his heart set on getting something... I mean, besides your brother a vessel.” The boy took a deep breath. “What I said to you about Atty is true... and you'll find her number in your cell when you wake up. But I wouldn't suggest calling her right away... wait until you get a good distance from DC.” Sully shook his head. “If the first key says no to Lucifer, he'll attempt to get the second... because he won't wait the time he has to for the third.”
“Keys?”
“The keys are people - given the task and what he'll offer and threaten to do, I doubt the first will refuse. In that, you have until the twenty-seventh of March.”
“What if this guy says no?”
“Then you have until May second.” Sully smirked. “But somehow, I don't think you want Lucifer getting a hold of that key.” He shook his head. “Rise and shine, sleepy-head.” He leaned over and pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead and a moment later, Dean sat up in bed, breathing hard. It was four in the morning.
*
The Winchesters were no stranger to leaving in the middle of the night. The fact that they were leaving early enough to avoid rush hour was almost a plus. Sam took another sip of his coffee from the cardboard to-go cup, still not entirely awake. “So he said that these people were keys of some kind?”
“Yeah.” Dean kept one hand gripped on the steering wheel. “Today's the twenty-ninth of January... what do you suppose the deal is with March twenty-seventh. Something happen that day?”
“I'm not sure... but why that day...” He rubbed his eyes. “Less than two months... what do you think the keys are to, anyway?” He took another sip of coffee as they left Maryland and headed into Pennsylvania.
“Something Lucifer wants that he can't get himself... but....” He frowned. “You think the key he's after is Noah Levin?”
“Possibly... if he is what we think he is...” Sam sank down slightly. “Shit... that would probably make Heather key number two...”
“Fuck.” Dean snarled. “Good thing she can see angels...and she knows what's going on.”
“True.” Sam rubbed his eyes. “I take it this means you want to head back to South Dakota just to be doubly sure, right?”
“Absolutely. The sooner, the better.”
“Maybe that's what makes them keys... the ability to see angels.”
“We don't know if Noah can see them or not.” Dean shook his head. “I don't like this. I just hope Cas's phone starts working again... it's been a week.”
“Yeah...” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “You check to see if that number is in your phone?”
“No...” He dug into his pocket and handed the phone to his brother. “You check.”
Sam frowned as he scrolled through the numbers. “What am I looking for?”
“Atty... or possibly Sully.” Dean said, shifting the Impala into another lane and then to an off-ramp that put them on I-70 west. He had a feeling the visitor in his head might have left his own for some other purpose.
“Sully....” Sam frowned. “Sully as in the big blue monster from Monsters Inc?”
“You've heard of it?”
“Dude,” Sam said, surprised. “It's a Pixar film... it's probably the only monster movie I actually have seen and liked.”
*
“No answer?” Dean said after another hour.
“No.” Sam frowned. “So anyway... you wanted to know who Sully is.”
“Yeah.”
“It's this silly movie about the monsters that live in kid's closets and collect screams for energy in their monster world... but it turns out the monsters are actually scared of the kids - it's been a long time since I've seen it, but in the end, they find out that children's laughter is actually a better power source...”
“Sounds horrible.” Dean shook his head.
“It's not that bad...” Sam frowned - he didn't want to mention the fact he'd only seen the movie because Jess had owned the DVD of it and loved said film. “Okay... so this guy was manipulating the whole dream?”
“It was weird... I mean... I swore it was real until he turned from you into himself... or at least, how he chose to look. These pagans are starting to piss me off as much as angels.” Dean shook his head. “He said he had special permission for being there... in my dreams or what have you...but was scared of someone finding him there.”
“Wait a second...” Sam leaned down and opened up his backpack and pulled a book out of it. “I think I know who your visitor might have been.” He flipped through a few pages. “Here he is... Morpheus... the Greek god of dreams... how the Greeks got tangled up in this angel and demon stuff so thoroughly is beyond me... I mean, it can't be just setting up camp next to Israel.” He chuckled. “This guy is pretty much both the monster under the bed and the thing that comes and kills it.”
“That's twisted. I'm starting to wonder just what is myth in that book and what's real.” He shook his head.
“You and me both.” Sam frowned and scrolled through the contact list on his own phone. “I keep thinking that there's something about the twenty-seventh of March... like something happened...”
“It's not anyone's birthday...” He frowned. “Wait... Morpheus said that the second possible deadline was May second... makes me wonder what the third one is.” He frowned. “Who are you calling?”
“Bobby... see if he can help us figure out this date thing...” He hit the number for the home number for the house in the salvage yard. “It's just after eight there, he should be up.” The phone rang twice before it was answered.
“Singer Salvage.”
Sam frowned. “Heather?” He double checked his watch. “Aren't you supposed to be at school?”
“No school today on account of the good people of the Sioux Falls School District deciding that making students wait in minus thirty degree wind-chill for a bus was inhumane and could lead to some very big lawsuits.” Heather was sitting at Bobby's desk, slowly flipping through a book.
“Yeah... say, could you put Bobby on the phone?” Sam grinned slightly.
“I would, but he's currently asleep nursing a very, very nasty cold - he told me if I disturbed him again he'd sell me to the circus.” Heather stood up and moved towards the kitchen and refilled her juice glass.
Sam gave Dean a sideways glance. He wondered if she was normally so talkative. “You haven't been sick, have you?”
“No...” She frowned. “I've not had a cold since December...there's a couple of kids in my class who are sick too, but that's typical.”
“Good thing we're headed back to Sioux Falls then. Say, can you look something up for us?”
He had a feeling Heather was looking around at all the books in the library. “Please tell me it's something simple.”
“Yeah it is...” He chuckled. “Can you look up March twenty-seventh for any sort of out of the ordinary events?”
“One second...” There was a thud of a glass on wood and a scrape of chair.
“No problem.” Sam took another sip of coffee.
“Uh, how far back do you want me to look?”
He thought for a moment. “Any time after nineteen seventy.”
“Sure...” Heather was humming a song Sam didn't know under her breath. “I don't know what you mean by out of the ordinary. It's not like they list those sort of things... do you mean like, disasters or something?”
“Yeah...”
“Uh...” She let out a soft curse. “Like something that kills five hundred and eighty three people?”
Sam was glad he hadn't taken another sip of coffee. “How many?”
“Five hundred and eighty three.” There was a shuffle of noise. “Yeah, the Tenerife Airport Disaster... two planes crashed into one another... or something...”
“Tenerife... where is that?” Sam shot a look another look at Dean, who was trying to both drive and pay attention to the conversation.
“The Canary Islands... those are off the coast of Morocco.... that was in nineteen seventy-seven.” Another shuffling noise - it sounded like she took a drink of something. “Is that the kind of thing you were talking about?”
“Yeah..” Sam took another sip of coffee. “Look, don't worry about it... we're just trying to figure something out.”
“No problem.” She took a deep breath. “You know how you told me to tell you guys if something weird started happening... or happened?”
“Uh huh...”
“Well, there's this kid in my class at school.... um, I think he can see angels too. He's not said anything, but he was sitting front of me and Cas at church on Christmas... and he kind of looked over where Cas's head is... like he saw something more.”
“Anything else going on?”
“No, just that.” He heard Heather take another sip of whatever she was drinking.
“Okay... well, we should be back by tomorrow afternoon. We'll talk more when we get back.”
“Sure. Drive carefully.”
“We will. Take care of yourself.” Sam hung up the phone.
“What'd she find out?” Dean asked as he swerved past an eighteen wheeler.
“There was a plane disaster on March twenty-seventh in nineteen seventy seven... killed almost six hundred people.” He saw his older brother shudder in response - both to the mention of 'plane disaster' and the number of casualties. “She also said that there's a kid in her class who can see angels - she thinks.”
“Thinks?” Dean cursed softly as he slowed the Impala down and they headed into a construction zone.
“Yeah, she's basing it off a look he gave Cas in church on Christmas.” He shook his head. “I'd just like to know what the keys are keys to... are they gates or something?”
“Gates to what?” Dean shook his head. “Can't be to Hell and I don't think it'd be to Heaven... and Melpomene told me that the half-blood children didn't have any special powers.”
“What if....” Sam pulled at his bottom lip for a moment. “The day you went to Hell.. that was May second.... what if the keys to whatever it is they're keys to can only be done on the day their fathers died?”
Dean shot a look over at his brother. “That's crazy.”
“No, it'd make some sense...”
“I am not getting on a plane.” Dean said through clenched teeth.
“I don't think we'll need to...” Sam took another sip of his coffee. “I say we find out what Lucifer wants with the key... I guess we should just say Noah - and then figure out how to stop it.”
**
No one paid much attention to the man standing next to the door as they piled out of their last class of the week. Thoughts of going out, of the upcoming Superbowl Sunday and other plans edged out all others as they left the room, some chatting with friends, others putting on their earphones and flipping through their I-Pod play-lists and others checking phone messages. Lucifer watched them all with a very detached state of mind - hating them for nothing more than existing. He shifted his gaze to stare at a poster across the hallway, advertising some theater production. He wasn't concerned about having trouble with the man in the room. Humans might be flawed, but they were remarkably pliable about so many things. Like the animals they were, they responded to threats to their family very quickly.
“Are you okay?” A voice cut into his musings and he turned towards the voice, his face turning to a sneer as he was met with the gaze of a young girl, probably no older than nineteen. She took one look at his face and shrank back. “Sorry...”
Lucifer felt the corner of his mouth twitch. This smelly thing was actually concerned about him even though she was scared. “I'm perfectly fine.” He could read her thoughts clear as day. There was something almost endearing about the what she was thinking. She was worried he might be ill and in need of some kind of medical help. It's not like Nick's holding out all that well. “I just need to talk to Noah.”
“Oh, you know Doctor Levin?” She smiled.
“You might say that.”
“I'm the last person out... and sorry I was uh...” She went pink. “I was just concerned... about uh...” She made a small gesture on the side of her face. “Allergic reaction?”
Lucifer felt the corners of his mouth lift. This was just plain, old fashioned excellent - it was almost like he was meeting Lilith all over again in the Garden of Eden. He knew he was going to be having fun in this girl's dreams tonight. “Something like that.”
“Eh...” She made a very poor attempt at hiding a grimace, but her concern was still evident. “I hope you feel better soon.” She gave him a small wave and headed down the hallway.
Lucifer quietly shut the door behind him as he went into the classroom, the lock clicking silently. He got to the front row of desks, still completely unnoticed, just as he had planned. The room was on the third story - so there was no chance of an onlooker. He straightened his shoulders and broke the silence. “Noah Daniel.”
Noah's face jerked upward from the papers he was sorting and two seconds later, he was flat against the wall in shock. “uh...uh...” He looked from the man standing between the fourth and fifth desks to what was behind, in - somehow connected to the man and then back again. “Holy shit....” He visibly winced.
Lucifer felt an upsurge of delight. The man was both frightened and enthralled by him - and he could see him. “Noah Daniel.” He said again - he was going to milk this for all it was worth.
“I uh...” Noah was struck dumb. He swore the two angels he'd seen at Christmas were a figment of his imagination, but this - this was entirely different. He couldn't be imagining this. He remembered the larger of the two from Christmas... the one close to ten feet tall... how this one could even stand upright in a room with eight foot ceilings... no, it wasn't standing upright... it was sitting down.... it had to be... It was sitting down and it's head was nearly at the ceiling - making the angel nearly twelve feet tall. The wings were another story all together. He sank to the floor, staring upward, his face awash in shock and awe. “Who... what...”
Lucifer strode to the desk and looked down at the cowering man on the other side. “Noah Daniel?” He asked again.
“Ye.... yes?”
He smiled in response, looking him over. “You have your mother's eyes....” He effortlessly moved so that he was sitting on the desk, still gazing down at him. “You're not the only one they abandoned... she's abandoned your siblings as well...” He shrugged, as if the matter was nothing. “Not that she wanted to...”
“How... how do you know who....” Noah mentally kicked himself for even thinking the question. This was an angel he was talking to, after all.
“But you are the only one I've had the pleasure of meeting.” He smiled again. “I need you to do something for me.”
“Wh... what do you need me to do?” Please don't say I have to kill someone, please, please, please...
“Oh, I'd never ask you to kill someone.” Lucifer leaned forward. “It's actually very, very easy...I just need you to be somewhere.... on a certain day.”
“Where.... when?” Please don't say the ruins of Antioch or something involving a long, long plane ride... please...
“It's not that far.” He replied, answering the man's thoughts again. This was starting to be fun. “I need you to go to Bethel, New York.... I need you to be there no later than sundown on the twenty-sixth of March. Can you do that for me?” He leaned forward slightly, flexing his wings of his true form so that he had the man completely surrounded.
Noah had never seen such pure whiteness in his life. He felt his fingernails digging into his palms, trying to remain calm. “B...Bethel?” Why did that name sound familiar?
“Yes. I need... something opened. I can't do it... only three people in the entire world can do it...” He shifted his gaze from intimidating to compassionate. “And the other two are children... they can't get there in time...” He knew he struck the right cord mentioning children.
“I... I can do that....” Noah would have dearly have loved to stand at that point. “I... can be in Bethel....”
Lucifer moved again so he was crouched in front of Noah, setting a hand on the man's face. “Thank you, Noah Daniel.” He drew back. “In return for this...” He studied the man's face, smiling. “I'll tell you who your birth parents are... I'll even find your sister's too...” He could see the sheer wonder on the man's face at the very idea of it. “And anything else you might want... and I mean anything.”
“I... I should come alone, yes?”
“Yes, Noah.” Lucifer drew back. “I will see you in March.” With that, he vanished.
Once alone, Noah sat there for another five full minutes before regaining the strength to stand and gather his things. As he headed back to his office, still in a state of shock, he was trying to figure out why Bethel should sound so familiar... and it wasn't the similarity of the name to Bethlehem. He resolved to put the task he'd just accepted into the back of his mind... at least until around spring break... six weeks from now.
**
Grace hadn't mentioned it, but this past week had been nothing short of horrible. Ever since Sunday night, she and Uncle Bobby had probably exchanged no more than twenty words, none of them over two syllables. Okay, so she'd gotten angry - but she was a kid - she was under the belief that God knew what he was doing and she should just accept that. It wasn't like she was an expert in theology or anything... just like everyone else around here, she was doing the best she could. Unfortunately, she was in a camp of one and everyone else was out to try and prevent what was happening. But she hadn't appreciated being treated like she was stupid. Perhaps because she was so new to all this she still had the luxury of looking at it from an outsider's point of view. Yes, it sucked and yes things were getting bad. That's why they call it the end of the world. Her worry wasn't that things were so bad now, but they were going to get worse. Fire, frogs and locusts weren't exactly raining down from the sky yet. She prayed it wouldn't get that far.
With her homework already done, there wasn't much for her to do except surf the Internet or watch television. Uncle Bobby wouldn't let her clean guns or make rock-salt rounds unsupervised, it was to cold to go outside and he also didn't want her messing with his books, stating he had them a 'certain' way - never mind that a week ago, he'd let her read just about anything she wanted as long as she put them back where she found them. Neither prospect appealed to her, she'd only been idly looking through the book on Bobby's desk as it was out. She frowned and went into the kitchen. Bobby had been sick for two days and had been rather waspish the whole time. She didn't blame him - Grace figured the only reason he stayed in bed today was the fact that she was there. She looked into the cupboard and grimaced. She'd been living off leftovers and peanut butter for the past few days while Bobby had been subsisting on ramen noodles and toast. She took a mental inventory and then checked the freezer. Maybe a decent meal might improve both her mood and Bobby's. How hard could a casserole possibly be?
*
Bobby hated to be sick - he was glad it was just congestion and a slight fever, rather than a full on raging flu. He knew where he'd gotten it, of course. The guy who came by on Monday and purchased a few items had been hacked several times. He figured Heather would probably come down with the same bug due to exposure to him before the weekend. It wasn't normal for a cold to knock him down so hard, but he'd deal with it... he always had. He was considering another dose of medicine when there was a timid knock on his door. “Yeah, kid?”
Heather poked her head inside the room. “I was just checking to see if you needed anything.”
“If I need something, I will let you know.” He coughed, grimacing.
“I was just kind of worried, cause you haven't eaten anything....I mean, for a while anyway...” She bit her bottom lip, frowning.
“Not hungry.” He rubbed his face. “Did the phone ring this morning?”
“Yeah. Sam and Dean are on their way back... they said they should be back by tomorrow.”
“Bout time those idjits came back here.” He coughed again. “What time is it anyway?”
“It's just a little after five....” She bit her lip again. “Uh... you want some dinner?”
Bobby groaned inwardly at the thought of more canned soup or ramen noodles - but he gave the girl credit for at least being understanding with him today. He was far from a good patient. “Sure kid.” The sooner he ate, the sooner she'd leave him alone. This past week hadn't been all to easy for him or her. If he didn't know better, he would have thought John Winchester arranged for the girl to get a double dose of the infamous Winchester Stubbornness just so she could come here and drive him insane. Though he knew what was really going on. The angel was pissed at the whole seemingly unstoppable situation, at the apparent apathy of his father and was downright furious at Heather's mother for some reason - and with no one else to lash out at, Castiel had dumped his rage on the girl. Bobby wasn't to surprised at the incident... he was angry too, and sure, he'd lashed out at Heather also - and then started feeling guilty yesterday. She was a kid who'd had the sort of upbringing most people would kill for. But she'd stood up to the two of them probably a little better than most would. It'd been on his mind for most of today to try and sort things out, but the fever and the congestion kept his mind occupied. Of course, if Cas had mentioned why he was so pissed at Melpomene, that would help too. He covered a sneeze with a Kleenex as the door opened again and Heather came in with a tray. He was glad he had started to tell her to put a tablespoon of chili-powder in with the beef ramen.. it really made a difference. When he looked down, however, he was surprised. “What the hell is this?”
“It's casserole.” Heather's voice was barely edged in indignation.
“I can see that it is... where did you get it?”
“I mugged the grandmother next door.” She snickered at the look on his face in reply. “Where do you think it came from? I made it.”
“You...” He gave her a skeptical look. “Where'd you learn how to do that?”
“That's actually the first one I've made...” She bit her bottom lip. “So uh...”
Bobby knew he had an apprehensive look on his face as he took a small bite of the concoction. To his surprise, it wasn't half bad - and that wasn't because he'd not had anything substantial in three days. “Where'd you get the recipe, kid?”
“Internet... it's Sloppy Joe meets Mac 'n Cheese, or something like that.” She headed back towards the door. “You want anything else?”
“No, I'm good...” He was surprised that she'd actually put a bottle of beer on the tray as well. “What's with this?” He indicated the bottle. “I didn't ask for this...”
“I know, but I think all that orange juice is making you more surly than usual.”
Bobby threw back his head and laughed, punctuated by several coughs after each one. “You could have a point.” He cleared his throat. “Thanks, kid.”
“No problem. Let me know if you need anything else.” Heather went out of the room and he heard her go back to the kitchen.
Bobby took another, larger, bite of the casserole. He decided it was worth giving her permission to start looking at the books again. None of this Apocalypse mess was her fault... just like him, she'd gotten dragged into it without asking. He'd only been more prepared than her to that end.
*
It was around eight when Bobby decided to get out of bed. Heather had come back for the tray earlier and well, the old hunter was a little sick of staying in his room for the entire day. He was never a fan of confinement and the wheelchair was bad enough. He also learned that he was a lot more congested than he previously thought - because when he got to the library, it was apparent what Heather had been doing with her day. The library was untouched, but the kitchen was spotless and smelled of a mix of spices, chocolate and lemon cleaner. He wheeled himself to the threshold and studied the girl's back as she calmly washed dishes, knowing she can't hear him -she's wearing headphones. He shook his head and went back to his desk, leaving her to her cleaning. From the looks of things, she'd made several casseroles - and the rest were probably in the freezer. He frowned at that - his freezer wasn't that big. “Heather?” He turned.
She pulled the phones down and turned. “Yes?”
“How many casseroles did you make today?”
“Just three - including the one we had for dinner.”
“Three...” He knew she wasn't dumb enough to put a burning hot casserole dish into the freezer. “Mind telling me how you got two other ones baked, cooled and put away without me noticing?”
She grinned at him. “Well, it's only five below outside... I covered them both with foil, set them on that table on the porch... just took an hour each.”
“Good job, kiddo.” He turned and headed for his desk while Heather pulled her headphones back on and went back to scrubbing a pan. The calm of the evening was abruptly shattered, however, when Castiel appeared - well, more like fell - in the middle of the kitchen.
The angel groaned and rolled over onto his back, wincing in pain. He knew that at least here, in this house, he was mostly safe. He wasn't sure of just how badly he was injured until he saw Heather's face appear above him and heard the soft squeak of Bobby's wheelchair near his ear.
“What the hell has he been fighting?” That was the old hunter's voice - it was hard to stay awake.
“If I had to guess, I'd say a dragon...or maybe a demon that's not possessing someone?”
“A demon in true form?”
“Yeah....”
That was the last thing Castiel remembered before darkness washed over him.
**
Dean was on his fourth driving shift - he and Sam had elected not to stop for the night but to keep alternating every two hours so they could make the nearly twenty one hour drive back to Sioux Falls in one straight trip, rather than dividing it up. Thankfully, there was no snow or ice falling as they traveled along I-80. It was two in the morning and they were nearly there. He'd called back at the end of his last shift - at eleven - Heather had answered and said she'd stay up to let them into the house. Seeing the sign that it was twenty miles to Sioux Falls was a huge relief. They hadn't been back to Bobby's in nearly a month - a record for them these days. The sleep he'd gotten in the car was horrible - not that it was ever decent, but this had been exceptionally bad sleep. He blamed it on the information about that plane wreck thirty some odd years ago and stress. The damned thing was probably irrelevant, but that sort of horror - planes weren't supposed to crash while still on the ground, for fuck's sake - just kept coming back to him. He glanced over at Sam who was snoring away, oblivious. His brother often gave him a hard time about his absolute fear of flying - but he never could quite find the words to explain what it was about planes that scared the crap out of him. Monsters, demons, werewolves, shape-shifters - hell, even angels he could deal with. Planes, however, were a problem. Planes crashed. They crashed a lot. Shaking his head as he pulled the Impala off the familiar exit to the small rural highway that ran a few miles away from the salvage yard was the same as always - freshly salted and sanded, from the looks of it. He slowed the car down, wary of black ice.
There was something rather comforting when he finally drove the car into the yard and saw the light burning in the library and the curl of smoke from the chimney. “Sam.” He nudged his brother. “We're there.”
Sam groaned softly and opened his eyes. “What time is it?”
“Late.” Dean rubbed his face as he turned the car off and pocketed the keys. “Come on, few more minutes and we can get some decent sleep.”
“Yeah...” Sam shrugged into his coat and when he opened the door, he winced at the cold. “See why they called school off...” He said, groggily.
“No kidding.” Dean made sure the doors were locked before going to the trunk to retrieve their duffel bags. “I don't know if I want to sleep or eat first.”
Sam yawned. “Sleep.” He tossed his bag over his shoulder as the two of them made their way across the sparse yard to the door by the kitchen. “Looks like it's been snowing here almost constantly.”
“Well, it's not like they've had much need to shovel the drive...” Dean said as they went up the small porch and he knocked on the door. A minute later, they heard the lock click back and door creaked open. A very tired looking red-headed girl stuck her head out and looked at them.
Heather narrowed her eyes. “Whatever you're selling, we've already got ten of them in the basement.”
“Funny, Gracie.” Dean replied as she stepped aside to let them in. “Bobby sleeping?”
“Yeah. He's been out cold since about ten thirty...” She locked the door behind them. “There's leftover casserole in the fridge if you want to eat something before you go to bed.” She yawned. “And before you ask, no, I don't know what happened to Cas, nor does Bobby.”
“Cas?” Dean frowned. “He's here?”
Sam stepped into the doorway and looked into the library at the unconscious angel. “Holy...” He turned. “What...”
“I was washing dishes, Uncle Bobby was going to go do some research or somethin'” She yawned again. “And Cas sort of fell... right in the middle of the room.” Rubbing her face and following the two brothers as they went into the library to look down at their wounded friend. “We patched him up... put him to bed there...and he's been quiet all that time.”
Cas was, in Dean's opinion, a very pathetic sight. His face was bruised and there was a bandage wrapped around the arm free from the covers. Just over the edge of the blankets, he could make out more bruises and bandages. “Shit.” It was scary seeing the former fierce angel slumbering like the dead. “I take it he looked a lot worse when he arrived.”
“Yeah.” Heather rubbed her face. “He actually looked a ton better after we got him out of his coat and stuff... and after we got the blood cleaned off... vast improvement.”
“Damn.” Sam said, looking Cas over. “Wait... you helped Bobby patch him up?”
“No, the invisible turtles did it.” She rubbed her face again. “The only injury he had below his waist was this pretty wicked looking cut on his leg...” Her shoulders slumped. “Could we possibly put off the game of twenty questions until...” She looked at her hand and waggled her fingers for a moment. “Six, maybe seven hours of sleep?”
“Sure... go ahead.” Dean said, rubbing his eyes. “G'nite Gracie.”
“Night Dean, night Sam.” Heather replied and made her way up the stairs. “Oh..” She paused halfway up. “If Cas wakes up and asks about his coat, tell him I cleaned out the pockets...it's no longer in wearable condition, it was in about ten pieces.”
“What was in the pockets?” Sam asked. “I mean, besides a cell phone?”
“Some newspaper clippings... one is in Japanese, another in Spanish... and the third one is in some Scandinavian language... I spent the last two hours on the Internet, figured out it's in Finnish... something about a woman named Astrid Peltola... vanished earlier this week...” She went the rest of the way upstairs and disappeared into her room.
Dean set his bag down next to the couch. “I'll stay down here, in case Cas wakes up or something.”
“You sure?” He moved towards the stairs.
“Yeah, Sam.” Dean went over to the hall closet and got out a spare pillow and blanket that was kept there.
“Okay. Night.” He went upstairs.
“Night, Sammy.” He set the items on the couch and then sat down to remove his boots. After brushing his teeth and turning off the few lights that were still on and settled down on the couch. He fell asleep almost as soon as he shut his eyes.
Chapter Eighteen