Requiem for Snow
Title: Requiem for Snow
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: None
Warnings: Violence, angst
Word Count: 7708
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.
Trailer 1 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8LXZM9nRC4
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 Harvelles return to South Dakota - and at least for a few hours everything seems more or less normal. Following the retrieval of the Colt, Dean finds out a few things about Melpomene's past - and the few things she's willing to share about the world of the supernatural that he doesn't know. Much to Castiel's dismay, he finds that Polyhymnia has made an arrangement for one of her sisters to help him in her stead - Clio. Sam and Jo get a look at some photographs Heather took in Europe and after the girls head off to bed, he discovers something else on Heather's laptop that is rather disturbing.
Heather ran the piece of chalk along the side of Uncle Bobby's house, matching the pattern on the drawing he'd given her. She knew that after these were in place, no angel would be able to get into the house itself - the man didn't want any unwanted visitors - and that had included Castiel. She knew that the man was angry that the angel wasn't able to restore his ability to walk with both legs again. Of course, it also meant angels that they really didn't want into the place showing up either. She finished the first marking and moved three paces over and started on the second one. The snow beneath her was so hard packed she barely sank more than an inch into the drift that had to be at least three feet high. She rubbed her nose and made another streaking motion with the chalk as she heard a car pull up near the house. Her hand stilled until she heard the door open and Sam come onto the porch.
“Ellen, Jo, you're back!”
“Hey Sam.” An older woman's voice answered him. “Where's Dean?”
“He went to get the Colt... it's a long story.”
“It's freezing out here...” Another woman's voice said, she sounded to be the same age as Sam.
Heather went back to working on the Enochian symbols she was drawing. She guessed the two women where the Harvelles, who'd been in New Orleans until recently. She checked the design again before adding another marking.
“That's pretty good.” A woman stood a few feet away from her, hands in her pockets. “You ever done that before?”
“No, ma'am.” She assumed the lady was Ellen, as she looked to be roughly the same age her mom had been.
“Bobby's got you working already.” She scanned the first marking and the half-finished second one. “So these are going to keep the angels out.”
“That's what Uncle Bobby says.” She turned back to her work. “They said you were in New Orleans.”
“Yeah.” She gave Heather a smile. “You ever been there?”
“Once, when I was seven.” She made one last adjustment to the markings and took three more paces to start the final symbol on this side of the house. Sam would come out after her and three more, several feet above hers. “I liked the food and the zoo.”
She nodded. “The food down there is pretty good.” Ellen took a few steps closer to her. “Damn, Bobby was right - you do look like Dean... except for the eyes and the hair...” She chuckled. “Let me guess... you hate being called ginger.”
Heather nodded in response. “Uh, you're Mrs. Harvelle, right?”
“You can call me Ellen.” She hunched over in her coat. “Jo's inside, she's been driving since Kansas City and she's pretty tired.”
“You must have been driving all night. We thought you weren't coming until later in the week.”
“Well, things didn't take as long as we thought they would.” She came over to stand next to Heather as she worked. “I'm sorry about your parents, Heather.”
“Thanks.” She looked over her shoulder. “I'm... doing okay with it...I think.”
Ellen watched her finish making the symbol. “You are or you think?”
“It's complicated.” She took a step back from the row she'd made. “That's all of them.” She tucked the paper and chalk into her coat pocket.
“Let's get inside - it's cold out here.” She put her hand on the girl's shoulder and led her inside the warm house.
**
Dean checked over the trunk of the Impala one last time before adding a second flask of holy water to one of the inner pockets of his coat before shutting the secret compartment and locking it. “Why does this seem far to easy?”
“Don't say that until you've got the Colt back.” Melpomene kept her hands in her coat pockets as they started down the street from where they'd parked the car, in a local carpooling lot. The good news was, it didn't look out of place amid the expensive luxury sedans and sport utility vehicles - they even passed another Impala, although it was the unforgivable color of candy apple red. “There's always one person in these groups who has a car that's least likely to get stolen... that's the car they drive downtown. Everyone else just chips in the gas money.”
“Crazy.” He muttered as they turned onto a side street that was lined with tall oak trees. He glanced at one of the houses as they passed it. “Does Scarlet O'Hara live in this neighborhood?”
She chuckled in response. “I still don't know what people do with all that extra room...if you had six kids or something...” She shook her head.
“What, no big house for you?”
“No, I don't really have a house... more like a very comfortable apartment that I don't get to stay in all that often.”
“Where's that, Mount Olympus?” He said, grinning.
“Of course.” She dodged an overgrown crepe myrtle bush. “Haven't been there in weeks.” She slowed as they came to a cul-de-sac and nodded towards a large stone wall that encircled a house whose Spanish tile roof could just be seen over it. “I don't think I've seen that many Enochian symbols in one place in a long time...”
“What?”
“That wall is covered with them.” She shrugged. “This almost makes me wonder what else he's hiding in there.” She straightened up. “Here goes nothing.”
Dean followed her as she went up the metal gate. “Iron? Seriously? This demon's got an iron gate?”
“Chain link doesn't fly well in this neighborhood. These things also open with garage door openers.” She looked up at the camera that was following them. “No, we're not paranoid.” She said under her breath as she pushed the call button.
“Yes?” A raspy sounding voice answered.
“Hello, Crowley...” A slow smile spread across her face. “Guess who.”
There was a buzzing noise and the gates swung open.
“We just walk in here?” Dean was incredulous as how easy this was going.
“When things are going well, don't knock it.” She picked up her pace and he followed. “Besides, it's sunny out. Strange how demons hate sunshine... you'd think for all the time they spend locked up in hell, they'd relish every minute they could get of it.”
“Maybe they don't like the heat.”
“I don't think that's the case. If that was true, places like Siberia would be crawling with them.”
**
Castiel had officially become worried about Polyhymnia. She'd not responded to any calls nor could he track where she was. He stood in a corner of the Vienna Opera House, listening to a choir perform the wonder that was Handel's Messiah. He was at the very first performance of the piece - it had been one of the single largest gathering of angels on earth in a long time. Time meant nothing to him, but he could remember the performance clearly. Half his garrison had been there with him - Zachariah, Uriel... Anna... he let out a soft breath and opened his eyes as he heard someone walking towards him. He tilted his head to one side, confused. “Clio?”
“I'd wondered if you'd remember me Castiel.” The Muse of History smiled. “It's been...” She shrugged. “A while.”
Castiel nodded faintly. Clio had been the first muse he had ever met - thousands of years ago shortly before the plagues fell upon the people of Egypt. She was also the first pagan god he'd encountered. She was much older than he was in terms of time, although she appeared to be no older than Sam Winchester, even now. Her hair was the color of wheat and bore little resemblance to her full blood sisters and a stronger resemblance to her half sister, Athena. It had to be the gray eyes more than anything. “A very long while.”
She stepped closer to him. “Polly sent me. This is the most insane month of the year for her - and for Cori as well. Since they need Penny to keep track of the days for them, I was the next best candidate.”
“Candidate?” He frowned. “I do not need... a candidate.”
“You do realize that between the two of them, Polly and Cori go through every December around twenty times.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I'm not busy as of late...all the documentary workers have gone home to their families, more or less...and all people really start to care about in forms of entertainment right now is American Football. All I've got now are a bunch of desperate students who didn't have the common sense to start their term papers right after Halloween.”
He stood and narrowed his eyes at her. “I do not want your help, Clio.”
The Muse straightened her shoulders, drawing herself up to her full height, which was still several inches shorter than him. “It's not like I'm going to be following you around or anything.”
“I do not...find that amusing.” He frowned.
Her mouth fell open slightly. “Kronos, Kali and Kokopelli killing kangaroos, is Gabriel the only one of you little sunbeams with a sense of humor?” She adjusted the collar of her coat, the gold pin on lapel flashing in the false light above them. “I may have to find you a copy of Humor for Dummies for Saturnalia.”
Castiel shook his head. “I do not want your help nor do I celebrate that pagan holiday.”
“Well, no one asked me if I wanted a baby brother but daddy said we couldn't get rid of Ares.” A grin spread across her face that slowly faded as the angel glared at her. “Look, I know you're not to happy about this arrangement - but Polly did ask me to do this.”
He took a step closer, looking her over. “For how long?”
“She should be readjusted and back to her sunny self in the middle of February. She sleeps the last two weeks of January every year.” She sighed and stuck her hands in her pockets. “Look, it's just if you happen to want or need help... I'm doing this as a favor to my little sister, which I don't get to do very often.”
He closed his eyes for a moment and then turned from her. “It appears I do not have a choice.”
“Hey, maybe everything will be nice and calm and you won't need my help.” She shrugged.
“You've changed, Clio.” He tilted his head to the side, frowning. “What is it?”
“Castiel, I've not seen you since Columbus left on his first voyage. A lot can happen in five hundred and seventeen years.”
**
Dean was uneasy over the whole getting the Colt back affair. It had been far to simple - despite what Crowley had told them. The demon wanted Lucifer dead, thus the reason he'd just given the gun back, no demands or requests other than to kill the bastard dead. They'd walked in there, rang the bell, were shown into an office by a maid and the weapon that could kill anything had been given back to them. The demon had stated that as soon as Lucifer was done killing humanity, he'd wipe out all the demons. Since he wanted to live and humans were pretty much a demon's food source, he had two very good reasons for being so polite. He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding as he drove the Impala over the West Virginia state line. “That was too easy.”
“Of course it was to easy.” Melpomene said flatly. “Crowley knows that the Colt won't work on Lucifer.”
He shot her a look. “The Colt will kill anything.”
“No, it kills almost anything. You do not have to be a genius to figure it out. If Lilith had the Colt last year and it could kill angels, don't you think she'd have shot several hundred of them?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Maybe she didn't know Crowley had it.”
“Crowley's end game is to stay on top and stay alive.” She shook he head. “Of course he told Lilith he had the gun. He knew she had to die to start the Apocalypse. She could have taken the Colt and killed a few angels for shits and grins before getting diced herself.”
“Be serious.” He snapped in reply.
“I am. Dean, I can't even kill an angel. I can probably hurt one really badly but get pretty thrashed myself in the process. Well, okay, I might be able to kill an angel...but definitely not an archangel.”
“Can the Colt kill you?”
“No.” She closed her eyes. “If you don't want to believe me, that's fine. I'm just trying to keep you from making some stupid mistake and getting you or some innocent person killed.”
Dean glanced at her. “How old are you anyway?”
“Really old.... I'm older than Castiel. Way, way, way older than he is.”
“You don't know how old you are?”
“Let's put it this way... You ever been to the Grand Canyon?”
“Yeah...” He checked the gas gauge as they passed a mile marker and saw the Impala was well above empty.
“When I was born, it was around two hundred feet deep.” She opened her eyes. “When Castiel was born, or whatever you want to call it, the canyon was around a four hundred feet deep. And yes, I saw that big ass rock that slammed into the earth and killed the dinosaurs. It wasn't five miles wide... it was about the size of Rhode Island.”
He let out a low whistle. “Damn... what did you do before there were humans? I mean, were all the pagan gods around then?”
“Some were.” She shrugged. “Most of them came into being as humanity grew. Some of the pantheons got wiped out thousands of years ago.” She rubbed her eyes tiredly. “Right after the Exodus of the Hebrews, the Egyptian pantheon was more or less slaughtered. Some of them did, however, get adopted into other groups...sometimes all that happens is a name change.”
“Greeks and Romans?”
“Exact same pantheon - just a handful of different names. Ares loved the Romans... he finally got a decent amount of respect.” She stretched her arms over her head. “You don't really intend the drive the entire twenty two hours straight to Sioux Falls, do you?”
“Not all at once.” He shook his head. “I just want to get some distance from North Carolina...to Ohio, at least.” He looked at his watch and winced. “I don't suppose you know how to drive, do you?”
“I have a problem when I drive.”
“What's that?”
“Speed limits.”
Dean snorted and then laughed. “What, seventy to slow?”
“Most of the time, yes.” She shrugged. “Besides, something tells me you don't want me driving your car.”
“Point.” He gave her a sideways glance again. “Can I ask you a question?”
“I suppose.” She shifted in her seat.
“You said yesterday you had a total of four kids... what happened to the other three?”
Melpomene winced. She usually not tried to think about her children, as did most of her sisters. The subject was always a painful one. “Well, none of them are still alive... only one of them died of old age. The other two...” Her voice cracked. “Died before they were twenty-one.”
“I'm sorry.” He glanced at her and saw the raw pain on her face. He knew better than to ask how they'd died. “If you don't want to talk about it...”
“No, no it's okay...” She managed a small smile. “You might need the information...” She took a deep breath. “William died in seventeen seventy-seven...I fed his murderer to a wendigo.”
“Human justice not working at the time?” He knew it sounded callous as soon as he said it.
“It was the American Revolution... and I wasn't thinking to clearly at the time. I got into a lot of trouble for that... and even now, I say it was worth it.” She took a deep breath. “Jeremiah was born in eighteen forty-seven...” She smiled. “Talk about seeing history...he was there the day Lee surrendered at Appomattox and lived to see the day Japan surrendered in World War Two.” Her smile became more pronounced. “He almost lived to be a hundred. He's buried in Arlington.”
“That... is a really long time to live.”
“Not many have done it...” She took a deep breath. “Timothy died on the USS Arizona.” She shook her head. “I refused to walk into Japan for a decade after that.”
Dean nodded slightly. “I'd say that makes sense.”
“For some reason, every person I take interest in Japan comes up with all these apocalyptic things... from Godzilla to Neon Genesis Evangelion...” She sighed. “Although X and Angel Sanctuary were pretty good...”
“Not heard of most of those...” He chuckled. “Godzilla? Seriously?”
“Plot's bad, the acting is horrible and the special effects are ghastly... so bad they're funny.”
“Thought you were the Muse of Tragedy.”
“Like I said yesterday - I somehow picked up drama and horror along the way.”
“Star Wars?”
“That would be Annie, better known as Urania, actually. ” She shook her head. “She stole George Lucas from Thalia... so I imagine Clio does nothing but break up fights between those two. The Twentieth Century was very nice to the Muse of Astronomy - and not just because mankind landed on the moon.” She laughed. “As for Tragedy... sometimes in being serious you end up being hysterical. I was at the premiere of Manos, for Kronos's sake... which I had nothing to do with. It was quite possibly the funniest thing I saw in the past century.”
“Isn't that touted as the worst movie ever made?”
“Obviously, you've never gone trolling on YouTube.”
“What's that, a porn site?”
In response, Melpomene laughed.
**
The kitchen table had actually seemed crowded with the presence of three more people. With the wards and seals on the house firmly in place, keeping out just about every single kind of unwanted visitors, Bobby actually seemed pleasant for the first time since Heather had known him. She was glad there were other people to carry a conversation rather than her having that responsibility. Ellen had said that she and Jo weren't staying very long - they'd be setting out for Maine in the morning. They had just wanted to come and touch base before heading east. They didn't know when they'd be back after that.
Heather would have been happy to spend the entire meal saying nothing if it hadn't been for Jo's determination to talk to her. She found it kind of unsettling to a degree, since neither Sam, Dean or Uncle Bobby had wanted to play twenty questions with her.
It also didn't help that it only made her feel more of an outsider with all the things that Sam and Jo had been brought up knowing and she was just starting to learn. Bobby had told her not to feel bad about that, he'd only spent the last thirty odd years learning all he could about the supernatural. She, at least, had a good head start ahead of him. While she might not know a lot about the world unseen, she'd seen a few places that none of the other four had. After dinner, she brought her laptop down into the kitchen and plugged it in so she could show Sam and Jo the pictures she had taken two years ago, when she'd been to Europe.
“So where all did you go when you went?” Sam asked.
“Uh... England, Germany, Denmark, Poland and Russia.” She chuckled. “It was funny in Berlin - it marked the first time I was ever asked if I wanted a beer.”
“Did you have one?”
“Well, there wasn't any alcohol in it... so it wasn't a real beer.” She opened the folder of photographs and got up from her chair so that Sam could use the keypad to navigate through it. “They're in there by country and then by location.”
“Little OCD, huh?” Jo said, jokingly.
Heather grinned. “I was born on the cusp of Virgo and Libra...I'm condemned to be a perfectionist who changes her mind every thirty minutes.”
Sam laughed. “That would explain why you keep looking for things to clean.”
“I'm not that much of a neat freak...”
“Why don't I believe that?” Jo said.
“Okay, so I like things clean... what's wrong with that?”
“Nothing.” Sam said, turning back to the monitor. “You went to Stonehenge?”
“Yeah. It was pretty cool.” She sat down in the chair opposite of them. Sam noticed when she bit the corner of her lip and glanced away for the briefest of moments. “A lot of the things we saw were like that.” She swallowed. “I liked Russia the best.”
“Why is that?”
“It had the best art galleries... we went to St. Petersburg and saw the Winter Palace.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I hate to sound like a geek about it and all...”
“No, no...” Jo grinned. “It's fine - of course, I'm not much for artwork.”
“Oh, it wasn't all artwork, there were historical artifacts too...The Hermitage was incredible... they've got artwork from the Stone Age.” She leaned on the table. “The Arsenal was just...I mean, they had weapons from the Punic Wars...” She went pink as she trailed off and hid her face in her hands. “Oh sheesh, I do sound like a geek...”
Sam clicked through a few images. “So where'd you go in Poland?”
“We were just there a day...” She sat up straighter, lowering her hands to rest in her lap. “There was just one thing we saw there...”
“What's that?” Jo said, noticing that the joy had faded from the girl's face.
“Auschwitz.” She looked down at the floor, biting her lip again. “I...it...was the middle of July... and the temperature was well above eighty.... but it was cold there.”
“Damn.” Sam said softly. “That must have been...” He frowned. “Damn.” He said again.
“I'm...going to go to bed. It's been a long day.” She stood up. “Good night.”
“Night Heather.” Jo said as she left the room. “Poor kid.”
“Yeah... but I think she's doing pretty well, all things considered.”
*
Jo went to bed shortly after Heather did, stating she and her mom had a long drive ahead of them tomorrow and she needed the rest. Sam, however, flipped through the entire collection of photos in the trip folder, feeling half intrigued and half envious. He'd never left the area of the country known as the 'lower forty-eight' in his life. There were so many placed he wanted to see and yet at the same time he had just wanted a place to call home. He sighed as he shut the last of the of the images and surfed back through the image folder. The laptop was a newer version than his, using Windows 7 whereas his was still on XP.
He glanced into the other room and saw that the door of Heather's room was shut and then he started filing through the rest of the folders on the computer. The music folder was full of a wide variety of artists, half of them he'd never heard of and at least a fourth he was surprised Heather had. What a kid was doing with Johnny Cash and Jefferson Airplane on their computer, he had no idea. He didn't expect to find much in the document folder, other than school papers. There was however a folder in with the school papers marked 'artwork.'
“Wonder why this isn't in her picture folder...” He clicked on the icon and inside, just like the photograph album, there were more folders, each one labeled with a year. Since they went four years back, he guess that Heather must have had fun with a scanner one day. “Probably used the one at Stephen Kittredge's high school...” He only briefly scanned the first three folders, most of the artwork seemed a little better than the average kid her age. It was only after he started the fourth folder, the one of pictures from the past year did one of them finally catch his attention.
It was a portrait, showing just the person's head and upper torso, looking almost directly outward. It had been done in charcoal, with no color other than a minimal amount of red in the eyes, giving the impression that the person was gazing into a fire. The thing that unnerved him was that he knew that Heather didn't know who this was. But he did. It was the one person whom he never, ever wanted to see again - in this life or the next.
The person in the portrait was Ruby.
**
They had made it as far as Columbus, Ohio before exhaustion got the better of Dean. The snow that had started falling steadily also added to it. What should have been an eight hour drive had turned into one that was nearly eleven. It was ten at night when they stopped and the need to sleep overrode the need for him to eat as he and Melpomene went into the last available room at a motel that was located just off the interstate. She'd insisted on paying and he hadn't objected - the Muse probably had a legal source of income and he was to tired to remember which one of his fake credit cards hadn't been used a few to many times. While she took a shower, Dean took advantage of the alone time to check in with Sam. His brother's cell rang twice before he answered.
“Dean?” Sam sounded startled, as if he had been in the middle of something.
“Yeah, it's me, Sammy. What's wrong?” He frowned.
“I wasn't expecting my cell to go off and everyone but me is sleeping.” He let out a long breath. “How did it go?”
“Fairly easy - even by our standards.” He smiled. “So there's good news and there's bad news.”
“That's.... never good.”
“Tell me about it. We have the Colt back, but according to Melpomene, it won't work on angels.”
“Do you believe her?”
“I think we may have to - if the demons had it a year ago and it worked on them, wouldn't a few angels shown up dead via gunshot wound and a not a stab to the neck?” He fell back on the bed, groaning.
“That's a valid point. But just having it back is good.” Sam sighed. “Uh, Dean...”
He recognized the ominous tone in his brother's voice. “What's wrong?”
“I don't know how to explain this exactly...” He leaned forward on the kitchen table, looking over an array of pictures that he'd opened up on Heather's laptop. “I've not asked Heather or anything... but I think she might know a little more than she lets on.”
“More about what?” He sat up, frowning.
“Well, Jo and Ellen got here this afternoon and after dinner, Heather let Jo and I see the pictures from when she went to Europe. She left us with the laptop and went to bed. After Jo went upstairs, I did a little searching on it to see what else there was.”
“Sam, normally I condone your snooping, but odds are, she's going to be pretty upset about that.” He said, almost laughing. “What'd you find out, she's a closet Edward Cullen fangirl?”
“That's not funny Dean.” He rubbed his eyes. “I found some of her artwork...it's from the summer before last.”
“You mean...”
“Yeah. The summer you were in Hell.” He took a deep breath. “I'm only guessing, but I think all while you were there, she saw things she shouldn't have been able to.”
Dean felt the color drain from his face. “Sam, what are the drawings of?”
“A lot of shapes and things don't make much sense...at least to me.” He swallowed. “It's mostly abstract... there are hardly any distinct figures... except one.”
“And?” One thought kept echoing in his mind: Please God, please, please don't let it be Alistair, please, anyone but him...
“It's Ruby.” He replied flatly. “The date in the corner of it shows that she drew it in the middle of June.”
“That's...” He ran his hand through his hair. “We didn't tell Heather about her.”
“I know we didn't. That's not the point - the fact is that she drew that picture almost two years ago - and I tell you Dean, this artwork is amazing. Hell, I've not seen artwork this good from art majors I went to college with.”
“Well, consider the other half of her parentage.” He glanced at the closed bathroom door where he could still hear the shower running. “I'm willing to bet good money she's got a better singing voice than either of us.”
“I hesitate to wake her up and start asking her questions.”
Dean swallowed and closed his eyes. “Sammy, she's probably not asleep.”
“What? How do you know?”
“Call it a hunch.” He heard the water shut off in the bathroom. “Is there anything else going on?”
“No.” He took a deep breath. “You think I should ask her about all this?”
“Sam, I think we've reached the point where the more information we have the better.”
“Fine.” He stood and went to the fridge for a beer. “You'll be back tomorrow?”
“Probably early in the evening, around seven or so, if the weather cooperates.” Dean sighed. “Night Sam.”
“Night Dean.” He closed his cell and looked up. Standing in the doorway, her arms folded and a glare on her face that could make lava freeze, was Heather.
*
Dean closed his cell and then dug the charger out of his bag. The motel was of a higher grade than what he and Sam usually stayed in, this much was evident in the fact that the decor didn't seem to be stuck in the seventies. The television looked to be a mere five years old, as opposed to ten. After plugging in the charger and setting the phone on the bedside table, he stuck the Colt in the room safe, wishing he could add a few more locks to it. He stuck his customary knife under one of the pillows as he heard the bathroom door open. “You done in there?”
“Yes.” Melpomene replied and went over to the far side of the room where her coat was hanging. “There's still plenty of towels left.”
“Sure.” He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she removed the two sofa cushions off and pulled out the fold up bed inside it. “In case I forget to tell you later... thanks.”
“For what?” She looked up, surprised.
“With the Colt.” He sat down on the bed to take off his boots.
“You're welcome.” She replied, going to the far side of the single bed and taking one of the pillows. “I don't get a lot of thank yous....”
“I know the feeling.” He responded and after digging out a clean shirt and boxers from his bag, went into the bathroom. After the long day, the hot water felt good as Dean held his face up towards the spray. The faucet actually worked without having to wrench it around and adjust it. The lack of mold in the bathroom was also a welcome change. His mind wasn't on the nearly twelve hour drive tomorrow, when he'd arrive at Bobby's worn out and facing who knew what.
He was more worried about what Sam had found. Castiel had stated that Heather might have a more developed sixth sense than the rest of the world hadn't bothered him until now. Hell had been indescribably horrible - there were no words for it. If it wasn't for the fact that he was exhausted and only an idiot would drive in the weather outside, he'd be getting dressed and driving hell bent for Sioux Falls in a matter of minutes.
That did bring him to tomorrow's drive - when they reached the South Dakota state line, Melpomene would take off and go do... whatever it was Muses did. Still, eleven hours was a considerably long time and spending it in silence wasn't something he really wanted. Talk had been avoided today by the rapidly changing weather and he'd spent a few hours blasting Zeppelin from the Impala's speakers. The longest stretch of silence he and Sam had ever managed with both of them awake was four hours - and even then, it hadn't been totally silent. His brother was usually checking up on something in dad's journal or reading some other kind of information. Music didn't count as part of the silence. He'd driven plenty of times alone with only music for company.
Why, exactly, had he insisted that she travel with him almost all the way back to South Dakota in the first place? Because Sam's not with you and you might need backup. Granted, going by size alone, Dean didn't think the Muse was all that physically powerful. He lathered up the washcloth and scrubbed his face. Now that they had the Colt back, he didn't really know what the next move would be. Maybe Sam would find a case for them by the time he got back. Yeah, and maybe Michael can find himself a different vessel and this whole thing can be over without me and Sam having to say yes. He turned the water off and grabbed a towel from the rack.
After brushing his teeth he went back into the room, shoving his dirty clothes back into his bag. The lamp next to the bed was the only one still on. He checked the locks on the door and glanced over at the sofa bed. All he could make out of Melpomene was the top her head just visible above the blankets and her right foot, which was uncovered. He sat down on the bed and stared at the sleeping figure for a full minute and found himself wondering whether or not the color of her painted toenails was blue or purple. He pulled back the covers, turned out the light and crawled into bed. Five minutes later, Dean was starting to wish he'd taken a cold shower as opposed to a hot one.
**
Sam set the bottle on the table. “How long were you standing there, Heather?”
“Five, maybe ten minutes.” She hadn't moved from the doorway, nor had her expression changed. “Why is it that adults go poking through children's belongings like it's nothing, but kids can't go snooping without getting punished?”
He recognized the edge in her voice. “Because adults usually have a good reason to go looking.”
“And what was yours?” She managed to keep her voice down, not wanting the others to be woken up and jumping onto the interrogation bandwagon.
“Sit down.” He nodded to the chair she'd vacated an hour earlier, he tried to keep his voice even. “Please.” He added.
Heather reluctantly went to the indicated seat, setting her arms on the table, still folded. “Does this mean I get to poke around on your laptop later? Or are you worried I'll find all your porn?”
He sat down, surprised he could keep his temper. “I don't have any of that on my computer.” He mirrored her stance. “I am going to ask you this once, and only once - and I want you to tell me the absolute truth.”
Heather blinked at him, lifting her chin slightly. “Yes, Sam?”
“Two years ago... did you have nightmares?” He saw what little color there was in her face drain, making the small spattering of freckles on her nose and cheekbones look black.
“Why is that important?” Her voice shook and she winced at her inability to speak clearly.
“Answer me, Heather - yes or no.” He already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it.
“Yes.” She swallowed. “I don't know what day they started, it was before school was let out for the summer. It lasted until the middle of September.” She bit her bottom lip.
“Every night?”
“Nearly.” Her voice started to shake slightly. “That's... that's why I drunk that Mountain Dew before the trip to Europe.” She blinked and tears formed at the corners of her eyes. “So I wouldn't have one on the plane ride.”
“You lied about the dare from the kids.” He'd heard about the Dew incident from Dean.
“Yeah.” She looked down. “I...my dad said not to talk about it... he said he was going to try and get a hold of someone... but whoever it was, they never answered his phone calls.”
“Shit, Heather... why didn't you mention this?”
“They stopped right before my birthday and haven't come back. I didn't think it was important.”
“At this point, a lot of things that might not seem important might actually be.” He turned the laptop around, so she could see the image of Ruby. “This woman... does she have a name?”
“I don't know... I never gave her one.” She looked away. “But I didn't like her.”
“Then why did you draw her?”
“Dad said it was important. He said the person he was trying to contact would need all the information we could give them. So, I drew the images and we scanned them onto the computer. They're also in a folder on my deviant-art account.”
“Did your dad ever tell you who he was trying to contact?”
“No. When the dreams stopped, he told me to do my best to forget about it. I just filed it under don't ask, don't tell.” She shifted in her seat so she could rest her chin on her knee. “Do you know her?”
He swallowed and nodded slightly. “Her name was Ruby. She...” He wasn't about to tell her what had happened between him and that... creature. “You were right not to like her.”
“She laughed a lot.”
“She what?”
“Whenever she showed up in a dream, she was always laughing... cackling, more like it...” She hugged her leg. “Put Helena Bottam Carter's laugh as Bellatrix Lestrange to shame.”
“Yeah...” He swallowed. “She did.” He took a steadying breath before continuing. “Did your mom know anything about this?” He turned the computer back around.
“She knew about the dreams...” She poked one hand with the other, keeping her gaze down. “She was worried I was developing some kind of neurological disorder...and when tests showed that there was nothing wrong, she was ready to go for some kind of psychological problem. Dad said he didn't want me seeing a shrink. I don't know what conclusion they reached, or even if they did - I think the dreams stopped before they reached an agreement.”
“Do you still have the sketch book that these pictures were drawn in?”
She shook her head. “No. When the nightmares stopped my dad took it. Kind of out of sight out of mind, I think. I don't know what he did with it.” She swallowed. “I have a different sketchbook now.”
Sam let out a long breath. “You mind if I see it?”
She shook her head and left the room to retrieve it. When she came back, she saw that he'd pushed the laptop aside and the picture folder was closed. “There's not much in it yet...” She sat down as she handed the book to him.
Sam took it from her and flipped it open and looked over the first few pictures that were nature scenes, a view looking out into a yard that he realized must have been a view from her home in Jasper. “This one's pretty new, isn't it?”
“Yeah... I just started it in September. I've gotten a sketchbook from Grandma Langley every year since I turned eight.”
“You have a grandmother still alive?”
“Yeah. Grams lives in an assisted living place in Flagstaff.”
“Dean and I didn't have grandparents... all four of ours died before Dean was even born...” He turned a few more pages and then things grew familiar. There was a drawing of Bobby's family room as it would look from the top of the stairs, another one of Bobby, then he paused on a page and looked up. “Does my hair really look like that?”
“When it's not combed, yeah.” She felt her cheeks turn pink. “Sorry.”
“No, no it's...” He turned another page and as he suspected, found a drawing of Dean. “You know, this is scarily good work.”
“Thanks... I think.” She scratched the side of her nose. “Not had anyone tell me I was scarily good at anything.”
“Well, you are...” He grinned and flipped over to the next page and paused. “Heather... have you ever seen a photograph of my dad?”
“No, why?” She looked surprised.
“Because...” He turned the book around. “This is who this is. You're certain you've not seen a picture?”
“That's your dad?” Heather blinked. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” Sam frowned. “If you haven't seen a photo, where have you seen him?” He set the book down.
She swallowed. “That night... back in Jasper....” She leaned forward, as if the room as full of people who could overhear them. “He's the person who told me I had to wake up. I didn't want to, but he was adamant about it.”
“And you did wake up...” He nodded in agreement.
“Puked my guts out in the bathroom.” She added as she looked down at her hands.
He took a deep breath. “If you hadn't done that...” He covered his eyes with one of his hands. “Damn it...” He didn't want to think about what would have happened. He turned another page and blinked. “Wow...” He looked up. “That's Cas, isn't it?”
“Yeah.” She looked down at the sketch and smiled. “That's what Castiel looks like.”
“When Dean gets back, do you care if he looks at these?”
“I guess not.” She shrugged and leaned down to rest her chin on her folded arms. “Is there anything else you want to ask me about?”
Sam shut the sketchbook and then turned off the laptop. “As a matter of fact, yes...” He took a sip of the beer, rather surprised it was still cold and then rested his arms on the table, mirroring her position, so they were on eye level. “What is a girl your age doing with Johnny Cash in her I-Tunes folder?”
“You don't like Johnny Cash?” She arched one eyebrow.
“I didn't say that... I'm just... rather surprised you do.”
“I like Johnny Cash because a lot of today's music sucks... and unfortunately, a lot of classic rock just makes my head hurt.”
“What kind of classic rock doesn't make your head hurt?” Sam was laughing internally - Dean was going to have a field day with this when he got back.
“Bon Jovi, for one.” She slowly smiled. “Pink Floyd and Jefferson Airplane aren't half bad either.”
“Be sure to tell Dean that when he gets back.” He reached over and ruffled her hair. “I think you're going to turn out all right.” He sat up straight and took another sip of beer. “Maybe we can get him off the Mullet Rock.”
“I'm not entirely sure what that's supposed to mean...” She stretched and stood up. “But Sam? I think we've got a better chance of winning a game of hockey against the Canadians than we do about changing his mind... if he's just as stubborn as we are.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “That's very true....” He took a deep breath to calm his mirth and looked up at her. “But Heather? If the dreams start up again... don't keep it to yourself, understood?”
“Understood.” She took the sketchbook and her laptop and went upstairs. A moment later, Sam heard the door of her room shut. He drained the last of his beer, stood up and went to brush his teeth, still chuckling under his breath.
Chapter Nine
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: None
Warnings: Violence, angst
Word Count: 7708
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.
Trailer 1 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8LXZM9nRC4
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 Harvelles return to South Dakota - and at least for a few hours everything seems more or less normal. Following the retrieval of the Colt, Dean finds out a few things about Melpomene's past - and the few things she's willing to share about the world of the supernatural that he doesn't know. Much to Castiel's dismay, he finds that Polyhymnia has made an arrangement for one of her sisters to help him in her stead - Clio. Sam and Jo get a look at some photographs Heather took in Europe and after the girls head off to bed, he discovers something else on Heather's laptop that is rather disturbing.
Heather ran the piece of chalk along the side of Uncle Bobby's house, matching the pattern on the drawing he'd given her. She knew that after these were in place, no angel would be able to get into the house itself - the man didn't want any unwanted visitors - and that had included Castiel. She knew that the man was angry that the angel wasn't able to restore his ability to walk with both legs again. Of course, it also meant angels that they really didn't want into the place showing up either. She finished the first marking and moved three paces over and started on the second one. The snow beneath her was so hard packed she barely sank more than an inch into the drift that had to be at least three feet high. She rubbed her nose and made another streaking motion with the chalk as she heard a car pull up near the house. Her hand stilled until she heard the door open and Sam come onto the porch.
“Ellen, Jo, you're back!”
“Hey Sam.” An older woman's voice answered him. “Where's Dean?”
“He went to get the Colt... it's a long story.”
“It's freezing out here...” Another woman's voice said, she sounded to be the same age as Sam.
Heather went back to working on the Enochian symbols she was drawing. She guessed the two women where the Harvelles, who'd been in New Orleans until recently. She checked the design again before adding another marking.
“That's pretty good.” A woman stood a few feet away from her, hands in her pockets. “You ever done that before?”
“No, ma'am.” She assumed the lady was Ellen, as she looked to be roughly the same age her mom had been.
“Bobby's got you working already.” She scanned the first marking and the half-finished second one. “So these are going to keep the angels out.”
“That's what Uncle Bobby says.” She turned back to her work. “They said you were in New Orleans.”
“Yeah.” She gave Heather a smile. “You ever been there?”
“Once, when I was seven.” She made one last adjustment to the markings and took three more paces to start the final symbol on this side of the house. Sam would come out after her and three more, several feet above hers. “I liked the food and the zoo.”
She nodded. “The food down there is pretty good.” Ellen took a few steps closer to her. “Damn, Bobby was right - you do look like Dean... except for the eyes and the hair...” She chuckled. “Let me guess... you hate being called ginger.”
Heather nodded in response. “Uh, you're Mrs. Harvelle, right?”
“You can call me Ellen.” She hunched over in her coat. “Jo's inside, she's been driving since Kansas City and she's pretty tired.”
“You must have been driving all night. We thought you weren't coming until later in the week.”
“Well, things didn't take as long as we thought they would.” She came over to stand next to Heather as she worked. “I'm sorry about your parents, Heather.”
“Thanks.” She looked over her shoulder. “I'm... doing okay with it...I think.”
Ellen watched her finish making the symbol. “You are or you think?”
“It's complicated.” She took a step back from the row she'd made. “That's all of them.” She tucked the paper and chalk into her coat pocket.
“Let's get inside - it's cold out here.” She put her hand on the girl's shoulder and led her inside the warm house.
**
Dean checked over the trunk of the Impala one last time before adding a second flask of holy water to one of the inner pockets of his coat before shutting the secret compartment and locking it. “Why does this seem far to easy?”
“Don't say that until you've got the Colt back.” Melpomene kept her hands in her coat pockets as they started down the street from where they'd parked the car, in a local carpooling lot. The good news was, it didn't look out of place amid the expensive luxury sedans and sport utility vehicles - they even passed another Impala, although it was the unforgivable color of candy apple red. “There's always one person in these groups who has a car that's least likely to get stolen... that's the car they drive downtown. Everyone else just chips in the gas money.”
“Crazy.” He muttered as they turned onto a side street that was lined with tall oak trees. He glanced at one of the houses as they passed it. “Does Scarlet O'Hara live in this neighborhood?”
She chuckled in response. “I still don't know what people do with all that extra room...if you had six kids or something...” She shook her head.
“What, no big house for you?”
“No, I don't really have a house... more like a very comfortable apartment that I don't get to stay in all that often.”
“Where's that, Mount Olympus?” He said, grinning.
“Of course.” She dodged an overgrown crepe myrtle bush. “Haven't been there in weeks.” She slowed as they came to a cul-de-sac and nodded towards a large stone wall that encircled a house whose Spanish tile roof could just be seen over it. “I don't think I've seen that many Enochian symbols in one place in a long time...”
“What?”
“That wall is covered with them.” She shrugged. “This almost makes me wonder what else he's hiding in there.” She straightened up. “Here goes nothing.”
Dean followed her as she went up the metal gate. “Iron? Seriously? This demon's got an iron gate?”
“Chain link doesn't fly well in this neighborhood. These things also open with garage door openers.” She looked up at the camera that was following them. “No, we're not paranoid.” She said under her breath as she pushed the call button.
“Yes?” A raspy sounding voice answered.
“Hello, Crowley...” A slow smile spread across her face. “Guess who.”
There was a buzzing noise and the gates swung open.
“We just walk in here?” Dean was incredulous as how easy this was going.
“When things are going well, don't knock it.” She picked up her pace and he followed. “Besides, it's sunny out. Strange how demons hate sunshine... you'd think for all the time they spend locked up in hell, they'd relish every minute they could get of it.”
“Maybe they don't like the heat.”
“I don't think that's the case. If that was true, places like Siberia would be crawling with them.”
**
Castiel had officially become worried about Polyhymnia. She'd not responded to any calls nor could he track where she was. He stood in a corner of the Vienna Opera House, listening to a choir perform the wonder that was Handel's Messiah. He was at the very first performance of the piece - it had been one of the single largest gathering of angels on earth in a long time. Time meant nothing to him, but he could remember the performance clearly. Half his garrison had been there with him - Zachariah, Uriel... Anna... he let out a soft breath and opened his eyes as he heard someone walking towards him. He tilted his head to one side, confused. “Clio?”
“I'd wondered if you'd remember me Castiel.” The Muse of History smiled. “It's been...” She shrugged. “A while.”
Castiel nodded faintly. Clio had been the first muse he had ever met - thousands of years ago shortly before the plagues fell upon the people of Egypt. She was also the first pagan god he'd encountered. She was much older than he was in terms of time, although she appeared to be no older than Sam Winchester, even now. Her hair was the color of wheat and bore little resemblance to her full blood sisters and a stronger resemblance to her half sister, Athena. It had to be the gray eyes more than anything. “A very long while.”
She stepped closer to him. “Polly sent me. This is the most insane month of the year for her - and for Cori as well. Since they need Penny to keep track of the days for them, I was the next best candidate.”
“Candidate?” He frowned. “I do not need... a candidate.”
“You do realize that between the two of them, Polly and Cori go through every December around twenty times.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I'm not busy as of late...all the documentary workers have gone home to their families, more or less...and all people really start to care about in forms of entertainment right now is American Football. All I've got now are a bunch of desperate students who didn't have the common sense to start their term papers right after Halloween.”
He stood and narrowed his eyes at her. “I do not want your help, Clio.”
The Muse straightened her shoulders, drawing herself up to her full height, which was still several inches shorter than him. “It's not like I'm going to be following you around or anything.”
“I do not...find that amusing.” He frowned.
Her mouth fell open slightly. “Kronos, Kali and Kokopelli killing kangaroos, is Gabriel the only one of you little sunbeams with a sense of humor?” She adjusted the collar of her coat, the gold pin on lapel flashing in the false light above them. “I may have to find you a copy of Humor for Dummies for Saturnalia.”
Castiel shook his head. “I do not want your help nor do I celebrate that pagan holiday.”
“Well, no one asked me if I wanted a baby brother but daddy said we couldn't get rid of Ares.” A grin spread across her face that slowly faded as the angel glared at her. “Look, I know you're not to happy about this arrangement - but Polly did ask me to do this.”
He took a step closer, looking her over. “For how long?”
“She should be readjusted and back to her sunny self in the middle of February. She sleeps the last two weeks of January every year.” She sighed and stuck her hands in her pockets. “Look, it's just if you happen to want or need help... I'm doing this as a favor to my little sister, which I don't get to do very often.”
He closed his eyes for a moment and then turned from her. “It appears I do not have a choice.”
“Hey, maybe everything will be nice and calm and you won't need my help.” She shrugged.
“You've changed, Clio.” He tilted his head to the side, frowning. “What is it?”
“Castiel, I've not seen you since Columbus left on his first voyage. A lot can happen in five hundred and seventeen years.”
**
Dean was uneasy over the whole getting the Colt back affair. It had been far to simple - despite what Crowley had told them. The demon wanted Lucifer dead, thus the reason he'd just given the gun back, no demands or requests other than to kill the bastard dead. They'd walked in there, rang the bell, were shown into an office by a maid and the weapon that could kill anything had been given back to them. The demon had stated that as soon as Lucifer was done killing humanity, he'd wipe out all the demons. Since he wanted to live and humans were pretty much a demon's food source, he had two very good reasons for being so polite. He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding as he drove the Impala over the West Virginia state line. “That was too easy.”
“Of course it was to easy.” Melpomene said flatly. “Crowley knows that the Colt won't work on Lucifer.”
He shot her a look. “The Colt will kill anything.”
“No, it kills almost anything. You do not have to be a genius to figure it out. If Lilith had the Colt last year and it could kill angels, don't you think she'd have shot several hundred of them?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Maybe she didn't know Crowley had it.”
“Crowley's end game is to stay on top and stay alive.” She shook he head. “Of course he told Lilith he had the gun. He knew she had to die to start the Apocalypse. She could have taken the Colt and killed a few angels for shits and grins before getting diced herself.”
“Be serious.” He snapped in reply.
“I am. Dean, I can't even kill an angel. I can probably hurt one really badly but get pretty thrashed myself in the process. Well, okay, I might be able to kill an angel...but definitely not an archangel.”
“Can the Colt kill you?”
“No.” She closed her eyes. “If you don't want to believe me, that's fine. I'm just trying to keep you from making some stupid mistake and getting you or some innocent person killed.”
Dean glanced at her. “How old are you anyway?”
“Really old.... I'm older than Castiel. Way, way, way older than he is.”
“You don't know how old you are?”
“Let's put it this way... You ever been to the Grand Canyon?”
“Yeah...” He checked the gas gauge as they passed a mile marker and saw the Impala was well above empty.
“When I was born, it was around two hundred feet deep.” She opened her eyes. “When Castiel was born, or whatever you want to call it, the canyon was around a four hundred feet deep. And yes, I saw that big ass rock that slammed into the earth and killed the dinosaurs. It wasn't five miles wide... it was about the size of Rhode Island.”
He let out a low whistle. “Damn... what did you do before there were humans? I mean, were all the pagan gods around then?”
“Some were.” She shrugged. “Most of them came into being as humanity grew. Some of the pantheons got wiped out thousands of years ago.” She rubbed her eyes tiredly. “Right after the Exodus of the Hebrews, the Egyptian pantheon was more or less slaughtered. Some of them did, however, get adopted into other groups...sometimes all that happens is a name change.”
“Greeks and Romans?”
“Exact same pantheon - just a handful of different names. Ares loved the Romans... he finally got a decent amount of respect.” She stretched her arms over her head. “You don't really intend the drive the entire twenty two hours straight to Sioux Falls, do you?”
“Not all at once.” He shook his head. “I just want to get some distance from North Carolina...to Ohio, at least.” He looked at his watch and winced. “I don't suppose you know how to drive, do you?”
“I have a problem when I drive.”
“What's that?”
“Speed limits.”
Dean snorted and then laughed. “What, seventy to slow?”
“Most of the time, yes.” She shrugged. “Besides, something tells me you don't want me driving your car.”
“Point.” He gave her a sideways glance again. “Can I ask you a question?”
“I suppose.” She shifted in her seat.
“You said yesterday you had a total of four kids... what happened to the other three?”
Melpomene winced. She usually not tried to think about her children, as did most of her sisters. The subject was always a painful one. “Well, none of them are still alive... only one of them died of old age. The other two...” Her voice cracked. “Died before they were twenty-one.”
“I'm sorry.” He glanced at her and saw the raw pain on her face. He knew better than to ask how they'd died. “If you don't want to talk about it...”
“No, no it's okay...” She managed a small smile. “You might need the information...” She took a deep breath. “William died in seventeen seventy-seven...I fed his murderer to a wendigo.”
“Human justice not working at the time?” He knew it sounded callous as soon as he said it.
“It was the American Revolution... and I wasn't thinking to clearly at the time. I got into a lot of trouble for that... and even now, I say it was worth it.” She took a deep breath. “Jeremiah was born in eighteen forty-seven...” She smiled. “Talk about seeing history...he was there the day Lee surrendered at Appomattox and lived to see the day Japan surrendered in World War Two.” Her smile became more pronounced. “He almost lived to be a hundred. He's buried in Arlington.”
“That... is a really long time to live.”
“Not many have done it...” She took a deep breath. “Timothy died on the USS Arizona.” She shook her head. “I refused to walk into Japan for a decade after that.”
Dean nodded slightly. “I'd say that makes sense.”
“For some reason, every person I take interest in Japan comes up with all these apocalyptic things... from Godzilla to Neon Genesis Evangelion...” She sighed. “Although X and Angel Sanctuary were pretty good...”
“Not heard of most of those...” He chuckled. “Godzilla? Seriously?”
“Plot's bad, the acting is horrible and the special effects are ghastly... so bad they're funny.”
“Thought you were the Muse of Tragedy.”
“Like I said yesterday - I somehow picked up drama and horror along the way.”
“Star Wars?”
“That would be Annie, better known as Urania, actually. ” She shook her head. “She stole George Lucas from Thalia... so I imagine Clio does nothing but break up fights between those two. The Twentieth Century was very nice to the Muse of Astronomy - and not just because mankind landed on the moon.” She laughed. “As for Tragedy... sometimes in being serious you end up being hysterical. I was at the premiere of Manos, for Kronos's sake... which I had nothing to do with. It was quite possibly the funniest thing I saw in the past century.”
“Isn't that touted as the worst movie ever made?”
“Obviously, you've never gone trolling on YouTube.”
“What's that, a porn site?”
In response, Melpomene laughed.
**
The kitchen table had actually seemed crowded with the presence of three more people. With the wards and seals on the house firmly in place, keeping out just about every single kind of unwanted visitors, Bobby actually seemed pleasant for the first time since Heather had known him. She was glad there were other people to carry a conversation rather than her having that responsibility. Ellen had said that she and Jo weren't staying very long - they'd be setting out for Maine in the morning. They had just wanted to come and touch base before heading east. They didn't know when they'd be back after that.
Heather would have been happy to spend the entire meal saying nothing if it hadn't been for Jo's determination to talk to her. She found it kind of unsettling to a degree, since neither Sam, Dean or Uncle Bobby had wanted to play twenty questions with her.
It also didn't help that it only made her feel more of an outsider with all the things that Sam and Jo had been brought up knowing and she was just starting to learn. Bobby had told her not to feel bad about that, he'd only spent the last thirty odd years learning all he could about the supernatural. She, at least, had a good head start ahead of him. While she might not know a lot about the world unseen, she'd seen a few places that none of the other four had. After dinner, she brought her laptop down into the kitchen and plugged it in so she could show Sam and Jo the pictures she had taken two years ago, when she'd been to Europe.
“So where all did you go when you went?” Sam asked.
“Uh... England, Germany, Denmark, Poland and Russia.” She chuckled. “It was funny in Berlin - it marked the first time I was ever asked if I wanted a beer.”
“Did you have one?”
“Well, there wasn't any alcohol in it... so it wasn't a real beer.” She opened the folder of photographs and got up from her chair so that Sam could use the keypad to navigate through it. “They're in there by country and then by location.”
“Little OCD, huh?” Jo said, jokingly.
Heather grinned. “I was born on the cusp of Virgo and Libra...I'm condemned to be a perfectionist who changes her mind every thirty minutes.”
Sam laughed. “That would explain why you keep looking for things to clean.”
“I'm not that much of a neat freak...”
“Why don't I believe that?” Jo said.
“Okay, so I like things clean... what's wrong with that?”
“Nothing.” Sam said, turning back to the monitor. “You went to Stonehenge?”
“Yeah. It was pretty cool.” She sat down in the chair opposite of them. Sam noticed when she bit the corner of her lip and glanced away for the briefest of moments. “A lot of the things we saw were like that.” She swallowed. “I liked Russia the best.”
“Why is that?”
“It had the best art galleries... we went to St. Petersburg and saw the Winter Palace.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I hate to sound like a geek about it and all...”
“No, no...” Jo grinned. “It's fine - of course, I'm not much for artwork.”
“Oh, it wasn't all artwork, there were historical artifacts too...The Hermitage was incredible... they've got artwork from the Stone Age.” She leaned on the table. “The Arsenal was just...I mean, they had weapons from the Punic Wars...” She went pink as she trailed off and hid her face in her hands. “Oh sheesh, I do sound like a geek...”
Sam clicked through a few images. “So where'd you go in Poland?”
“We were just there a day...” She sat up straighter, lowering her hands to rest in her lap. “There was just one thing we saw there...”
“What's that?” Jo said, noticing that the joy had faded from the girl's face.
“Auschwitz.” She looked down at the floor, biting her lip again. “I...it...was the middle of July... and the temperature was well above eighty.... but it was cold there.”
“Damn.” Sam said softly. “That must have been...” He frowned. “Damn.” He said again.
“I'm...going to go to bed. It's been a long day.” She stood up. “Good night.”
“Night Heather.” Jo said as she left the room. “Poor kid.”
“Yeah... but I think she's doing pretty well, all things considered.”
*
Jo went to bed shortly after Heather did, stating she and her mom had a long drive ahead of them tomorrow and she needed the rest. Sam, however, flipped through the entire collection of photos in the trip folder, feeling half intrigued and half envious. He'd never left the area of the country known as the 'lower forty-eight' in his life. There were so many placed he wanted to see and yet at the same time he had just wanted a place to call home. He sighed as he shut the last of the of the images and surfed back through the image folder. The laptop was a newer version than his, using Windows 7 whereas his was still on XP.
He glanced into the other room and saw that the door of Heather's room was shut and then he started filing through the rest of the folders on the computer. The music folder was full of a wide variety of artists, half of them he'd never heard of and at least a fourth he was surprised Heather had. What a kid was doing with Johnny Cash and Jefferson Airplane on their computer, he had no idea. He didn't expect to find much in the document folder, other than school papers. There was however a folder in with the school papers marked 'artwork.'
“Wonder why this isn't in her picture folder...” He clicked on the icon and inside, just like the photograph album, there were more folders, each one labeled with a year. Since they went four years back, he guess that Heather must have had fun with a scanner one day. “Probably used the one at Stephen Kittredge's high school...” He only briefly scanned the first three folders, most of the artwork seemed a little better than the average kid her age. It was only after he started the fourth folder, the one of pictures from the past year did one of them finally catch his attention.
It was a portrait, showing just the person's head and upper torso, looking almost directly outward. It had been done in charcoal, with no color other than a minimal amount of red in the eyes, giving the impression that the person was gazing into a fire. The thing that unnerved him was that he knew that Heather didn't know who this was. But he did. It was the one person whom he never, ever wanted to see again - in this life or the next.
The person in the portrait was Ruby.
**
They had made it as far as Columbus, Ohio before exhaustion got the better of Dean. The snow that had started falling steadily also added to it. What should have been an eight hour drive had turned into one that was nearly eleven. It was ten at night when they stopped and the need to sleep overrode the need for him to eat as he and Melpomene went into the last available room at a motel that was located just off the interstate. She'd insisted on paying and he hadn't objected - the Muse probably had a legal source of income and he was to tired to remember which one of his fake credit cards hadn't been used a few to many times. While she took a shower, Dean took advantage of the alone time to check in with Sam. His brother's cell rang twice before he answered.
“Dean?” Sam sounded startled, as if he had been in the middle of something.
“Yeah, it's me, Sammy. What's wrong?” He frowned.
“I wasn't expecting my cell to go off and everyone but me is sleeping.” He let out a long breath. “How did it go?”
“Fairly easy - even by our standards.” He smiled. “So there's good news and there's bad news.”
“That's.... never good.”
“Tell me about it. We have the Colt back, but according to Melpomene, it won't work on angels.”
“Do you believe her?”
“I think we may have to - if the demons had it a year ago and it worked on them, wouldn't a few angels shown up dead via gunshot wound and a not a stab to the neck?” He fell back on the bed, groaning.
“That's a valid point. But just having it back is good.” Sam sighed. “Uh, Dean...”
He recognized the ominous tone in his brother's voice. “What's wrong?”
“I don't know how to explain this exactly...” He leaned forward on the kitchen table, looking over an array of pictures that he'd opened up on Heather's laptop. “I've not asked Heather or anything... but I think she might know a little more than she lets on.”
“More about what?” He sat up, frowning.
“Well, Jo and Ellen got here this afternoon and after dinner, Heather let Jo and I see the pictures from when she went to Europe. She left us with the laptop and went to bed. After Jo went upstairs, I did a little searching on it to see what else there was.”
“Sam, normally I condone your snooping, but odds are, she's going to be pretty upset about that.” He said, almost laughing. “What'd you find out, she's a closet Edward Cullen fangirl?”
“That's not funny Dean.” He rubbed his eyes. “I found some of her artwork...it's from the summer before last.”
“You mean...”
“Yeah. The summer you were in Hell.” He took a deep breath. “I'm only guessing, but I think all while you were there, she saw things she shouldn't have been able to.”
Dean felt the color drain from his face. “Sam, what are the drawings of?”
“A lot of shapes and things don't make much sense...at least to me.” He swallowed. “It's mostly abstract... there are hardly any distinct figures... except one.”
“And?” One thought kept echoing in his mind: Please God, please, please don't let it be Alistair, please, anyone but him...
“It's Ruby.” He replied flatly. “The date in the corner of it shows that she drew it in the middle of June.”
“That's...” He ran his hand through his hair. “We didn't tell Heather about her.”
“I know we didn't. That's not the point - the fact is that she drew that picture almost two years ago - and I tell you Dean, this artwork is amazing. Hell, I've not seen artwork this good from art majors I went to college with.”
“Well, consider the other half of her parentage.” He glanced at the closed bathroom door where he could still hear the shower running. “I'm willing to bet good money she's got a better singing voice than either of us.”
“I hesitate to wake her up and start asking her questions.”
Dean swallowed and closed his eyes. “Sammy, she's probably not asleep.”
“What? How do you know?”
“Call it a hunch.” He heard the water shut off in the bathroom. “Is there anything else going on?”
“No.” He took a deep breath. “You think I should ask her about all this?”
“Sam, I think we've reached the point where the more information we have the better.”
“Fine.” He stood and went to the fridge for a beer. “You'll be back tomorrow?”
“Probably early in the evening, around seven or so, if the weather cooperates.” Dean sighed. “Night Sam.”
“Night Dean.” He closed his cell and looked up. Standing in the doorway, her arms folded and a glare on her face that could make lava freeze, was Heather.
*
Dean closed his cell and then dug the charger out of his bag. The motel was of a higher grade than what he and Sam usually stayed in, this much was evident in the fact that the decor didn't seem to be stuck in the seventies. The television looked to be a mere five years old, as opposed to ten. After plugging in the charger and setting the phone on the bedside table, he stuck the Colt in the room safe, wishing he could add a few more locks to it. He stuck his customary knife under one of the pillows as he heard the bathroom door open. “You done in there?”
“Yes.” Melpomene replied and went over to the far side of the room where her coat was hanging. “There's still plenty of towels left.”
“Sure.” He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she removed the two sofa cushions off and pulled out the fold up bed inside it. “In case I forget to tell you later... thanks.”
“For what?” She looked up, surprised.
“With the Colt.” He sat down on the bed to take off his boots.
“You're welcome.” She replied, going to the far side of the single bed and taking one of the pillows. “I don't get a lot of thank yous....”
“I know the feeling.” He responded and after digging out a clean shirt and boxers from his bag, went into the bathroom. After the long day, the hot water felt good as Dean held his face up towards the spray. The faucet actually worked without having to wrench it around and adjust it. The lack of mold in the bathroom was also a welcome change. His mind wasn't on the nearly twelve hour drive tomorrow, when he'd arrive at Bobby's worn out and facing who knew what.
He was more worried about what Sam had found. Castiel had stated that Heather might have a more developed sixth sense than the rest of the world hadn't bothered him until now. Hell had been indescribably horrible - there were no words for it. If it wasn't for the fact that he was exhausted and only an idiot would drive in the weather outside, he'd be getting dressed and driving hell bent for Sioux Falls in a matter of minutes.
That did bring him to tomorrow's drive - when they reached the South Dakota state line, Melpomene would take off and go do... whatever it was Muses did. Still, eleven hours was a considerably long time and spending it in silence wasn't something he really wanted. Talk had been avoided today by the rapidly changing weather and he'd spent a few hours blasting Zeppelin from the Impala's speakers. The longest stretch of silence he and Sam had ever managed with both of them awake was four hours - and even then, it hadn't been totally silent. His brother was usually checking up on something in dad's journal or reading some other kind of information. Music didn't count as part of the silence. He'd driven plenty of times alone with only music for company.
Why, exactly, had he insisted that she travel with him almost all the way back to South Dakota in the first place? Because Sam's not with you and you might need backup. Granted, going by size alone, Dean didn't think the Muse was all that physically powerful. He lathered up the washcloth and scrubbed his face. Now that they had the Colt back, he didn't really know what the next move would be. Maybe Sam would find a case for them by the time he got back. Yeah, and maybe Michael can find himself a different vessel and this whole thing can be over without me and Sam having to say yes. He turned the water off and grabbed a towel from the rack.
After brushing his teeth he went back into the room, shoving his dirty clothes back into his bag. The lamp next to the bed was the only one still on. He checked the locks on the door and glanced over at the sofa bed. All he could make out of Melpomene was the top her head just visible above the blankets and her right foot, which was uncovered. He sat down on the bed and stared at the sleeping figure for a full minute and found himself wondering whether or not the color of her painted toenails was blue or purple. He pulled back the covers, turned out the light and crawled into bed. Five minutes later, Dean was starting to wish he'd taken a cold shower as opposed to a hot one.
**
Sam set the bottle on the table. “How long were you standing there, Heather?”
“Five, maybe ten minutes.” She hadn't moved from the doorway, nor had her expression changed. “Why is it that adults go poking through children's belongings like it's nothing, but kids can't go snooping without getting punished?”
He recognized the edge in her voice. “Because adults usually have a good reason to go looking.”
“And what was yours?” She managed to keep her voice down, not wanting the others to be woken up and jumping onto the interrogation bandwagon.
“Sit down.” He nodded to the chair she'd vacated an hour earlier, he tried to keep his voice even. “Please.” He added.
Heather reluctantly went to the indicated seat, setting her arms on the table, still folded. “Does this mean I get to poke around on your laptop later? Or are you worried I'll find all your porn?”
He sat down, surprised he could keep his temper. “I don't have any of that on my computer.” He mirrored her stance. “I am going to ask you this once, and only once - and I want you to tell me the absolute truth.”
Heather blinked at him, lifting her chin slightly. “Yes, Sam?”
“Two years ago... did you have nightmares?” He saw what little color there was in her face drain, making the small spattering of freckles on her nose and cheekbones look black.
“Why is that important?” Her voice shook and she winced at her inability to speak clearly.
“Answer me, Heather - yes or no.” He already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it.
“Yes.” She swallowed. “I don't know what day they started, it was before school was let out for the summer. It lasted until the middle of September.” She bit her bottom lip.
“Every night?”
“Nearly.” Her voice started to shake slightly. “That's... that's why I drunk that Mountain Dew before the trip to Europe.” She blinked and tears formed at the corners of her eyes. “So I wouldn't have one on the plane ride.”
“You lied about the dare from the kids.” He'd heard about the Dew incident from Dean.
“Yeah.” She looked down. “I...my dad said not to talk about it... he said he was going to try and get a hold of someone... but whoever it was, they never answered his phone calls.”
“Shit, Heather... why didn't you mention this?”
“They stopped right before my birthday and haven't come back. I didn't think it was important.”
“At this point, a lot of things that might not seem important might actually be.” He turned the laptop around, so she could see the image of Ruby. “This woman... does she have a name?”
“I don't know... I never gave her one.” She looked away. “But I didn't like her.”
“Then why did you draw her?”
“Dad said it was important. He said the person he was trying to contact would need all the information we could give them. So, I drew the images and we scanned them onto the computer. They're also in a folder on my deviant-art account.”
“Did your dad ever tell you who he was trying to contact?”
“No. When the dreams stopped, he told me to do my best to forget about it. I just filed it under don't ask, don't tell.” She shifted in her seat so she could rest her chin on her knee. “Do you know her?”
He swallowed and nodded slightly. “Her name was Ruby. She...” He wasn't about to tell her what had happened between him and that... creature. “You were right not to like her.”
“She laughed a lot.”
“She what?”
“Whenever she showed up in a dream, she was always laughing... cackling, more like it...” She hugged her leg. “Put Helena Bottam Carter's laugh as Bellatrix Lestrange to shame.”
“Yeah...” He swallowed. “She did.” He took a steadying breath before continuing. “Did your mom know anything about this?” He turned the computer back around.
“She knew about the dreams...” She poked one hand with the other, keeping her gaze down. “She was worried I was developing some kind of neurological disorder...and when tests showed that there was nothing wrong, she was ready to go for some kind of psychological problem. Dad said he didn't want me seeing a shrink. I don't know what conclusion they reached, or even if they did - I think the dreams stopped before they reached an agreement.”
“Do you still have the sketch book that these pictures were drawn in?”
She shook her head. “No. When the nightmares stopped my dad took it. Kind of out of sight out of mind, I think. I don't know what he did with it.” She swallowed. “I have a different sketchbook now.”
Sam let out a long breath. “You mind if I see it?”
She shook her head and left the room to retrieve it. When she came back, she saw that he'd pushed the laptop aside and the picture folder was closed. “There's not much in it yet...” She sat down as she handed the book to him.
Sam took it from her and flipped it open and looked over the first few pictures that were nature scenes, a view looking out into a yard that he realized must have been a view from her home in Jasper. “This one's pretty new, isn't it?”
“Yeah... I just started it in September. I've gotten a sketchbook from Grandma Langley every year since I turned eight.”
“You have a grandmother still alive?”
“Yeah. Grams lives in an assisted living place in Flagstaff.”
“Dean and I didn't have grandparents... all four of ours died before Dean was even born...” He turned a few more pages and then things grew familiar. There was a drawing of Bobby's family room as it would look from the top of the stairs, another one of Bobby, then he paused on a page and looked up. “Does my hair really look like that?”
“When it's not combed, yeah.” She felt her cheeks turn pink. “Sorry.”
“No, no it's...” He turned another page and as he suspected, found a drawing of Dean. “You know, this is scarily good work.”
“Thanks... I think.” She scratched the side of her nose. “Not had anyone tell me I was scarily good at anything.”
“Well, you are...” He grinned and flipped over to the next page and paused. “Heather... have you ever seen a photograph of my dad?”
“No, why?” She looked surprised.
“Because...” He turned the book around. “This is who this is. You're certain you've not seen a picture?”
“That's your dad?” Heather blinked. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” Sam frowned. “If you haven't seen a photo, where have you seen him?” He set the book down.
She swallowed. “That night... back in Jasper....” She leaned forward, as if the room as full of people who could overhear them. “He's the person who told me I had to wake up. I didn't want to, but he was adamant about it.”
“And you did wake up...” He nodded in agreement.
“Puked my guts out in the bathroom.” She added as she looked down at her hands.
He took a deep breath. “If you hadn't done that...” He covered his eyes with one of his hands. “Damn it...” He didn't want to think about what would have happened. He turned another page and blinked. “Wow...” He looked up. “That's Cas, isn't it?”
“Yeah.” She looked down at the sketch and smiled. “That's what Castiel looks like.”
“When Dean gets back, do you care if he looks at these?”
“I guess not.” She shrugged and leaned down to rest her chin on her folded arms. “Is there anything else you want to ask me about?”
Sam shut the sketchbook and then turned off the laptop. “As a matter of fact, yes...” He took a sip of the beer, rather surprised it was still cold and then rested his arms on the table, mirroring her position, so they were on eye level. “What is a girl your age doing with Johnny Cash in her I-Tunes folder?”
“You don't like Johnny Cash?” She arched one eyebrow.
“I didn't say that... I'm just... rather surprised you do.”
“I like Johnny Cash because a lot of today's music sucks... and unfortunately, a lot of classic rock just makes my head hurt.”
“What kind of classic rock doesn't make your head hurt?” Sam was laughing internally - Dean was going to have a field day with this when he got back.
“Bon Jovi, for one.” She slowly smiled. “Pink Floyd and Jefferson Airplane aren't half bad either.”
“Be sure to tell Dean that when he gets back.” He reached over and ruffled her hair. “I think you're going to turn out all right.” He sat up straight and took another sip of beer. “Maybe we can get him off the Mullet Rock.”
“I'm not entirely sure what that's supposed to mean...” She stretched and stood up. “But Sam? I think we've got a better chance of winning a game of hockey against the Canadians than we do about changing his mind... if he's just as stubborn as we are.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “That's very true....” He took a deep breath to calm his mirth and looked up at her. “But Heather? If the dreams start up again... don't keep it to yourself, understood?”
“Understood.” She took the sketchbook and her laptop and went upstairs. A moment later, Sam heard the door of her room shut. He drained the last of his beer, stood up and went to brush his teeth, still chuckling under his breath.
Chapter Nine