Crusaders 3 3/7
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Chapter 2
Alarms and Discursions
Sam didn’t know what woke him late that night. He barely remembered the last gas stop and the younger, taller generation rotating to sleep in the back seat-each brother resting against a window and Jess resting her head on Sam’s shoulder-while the twelfth-century Winchesters slept in the front when Gabriel took over driving. But as he sat up straighter, blinking blearily, it took him a moment to realize that there was a Dean behind the wheel.
The wrong Dean.
“Dude, what are you doing?!” Sam hissed, suddenly wide awake.
“Taking my watch,” Old Dean replied evenly.
“Since when do you know how to drive?”
“Today.” Sam’s mouth fell open, but Old Dean continued, “I have been watching, and it is not all that hard at this hour, when there are few others on the road. I could not sleep, so Gabriel offered to give me a turn.”
“Dean’s going to kill you if you hurt his car, man.”
“No, he won’t,” Gabriel replied, leaning his head back over the back of the seat rather than turning around-a move that was vintage Uncle Gabe. “Grandfather paradox. Besides, archangel copilot. I’ll keep him on the road.”
“But-”
“Night, Short Stuff.” And that was the last thing Sam heard until morning.
What woke him then-from an awful dream involving Dean getting his back broken by falling hard against a gravestone-was the sound of quiet chanting in Latin. He forced himself to wake up all the way and opened his eyes to find the early light of morning falling on Gabriel, who was driving, and the bowed heads of Old Dean and Samuel, the latter of whom was doing the chanting. Sam could barely hear him over the sound of the engine, but if he listened carefully, he could just make out the words:
“... in sanctitate et justitia coram ipso, omnibus diebus nostris....” [1]
Sam frowned a little and sat up, trying to place the words. Dad’s friend Pastor Jim was Lutheran, but he’d given the boys a taste of the Latin Mass in Gregorian chant once upon a time just because they’d been curious. That was what this sounded like, but he didn’t quite recognize it.
“... illuminare his qui in tenebris et in umbra mortis sedent: ad dirigendos pedes nostros in viam pacis. Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison. Amen.” [2] Then Samuel and Old Dean crossed themselves and sat up.
“Lauds,” Gabriel explained, glancing back at Sam in the rearview mirror. “Morning, Sam.”
“Hey,” Sam returned groggily. “What’s Lauds?”
“Morning prayer, said at dawn. Samuel has to say the Hours if he can, even if he’s on the road.” [3]
Samuel turned with a gentle smile. “I am sorry if I woke you.”
Sam shook his head. “No, ’s okay. Where are we?”
“About two hours east of Denver,” said Gabriel, “just passed through Kanorado a few minutes ago. Figured we’d stop in Goodland for gas and breakfast.”
Sam nodded. “Sure. Sounds good.”
Old Dean turned then. “What manner of word is Kanorado, anyway?”
“It’s a portmanteau word; you take the first part of Kansas and the last part of Colorado and put them together. The town’s called that because it sits on the state line. Lot of place names like that in Texas, too-Texarkana, Texoma.”
“Now, Colorado is a Spanish word, I deem.”
“Right, Rio Colorado, the red-colored river. They named the state after the river.”
“But what is Kansas?”
“The Kanza people originally lived here. The state’s named after them.”
“And what manner of men are they?”
“Very distant relatives of the Skrælings,” Gabriel replied, “but there haven’t been any wars with them in nearly 150 years.”
Samuel and Old Dean stared at him.
Sam frowned. “Really? I thought the Skrælings were Inuit, not Siouan.”
Gabriel smiled a little. “Sam, all humans are related if you go back far enough. You’re all descended from Noah.”
But Old Dean, it seemed, was still stuck on Skrælings. “Will we meet any?”
“Probably not. Most of ’em live a long way south. And you might not recognize them if you did see them. Most dress just like everyone else now.”
“Oh.” Sam wasn’t sure if Old Dean was relieved or disappointed.
Dean and Jess woke up as the car slowed down to turn off the highway into Goodland. By mutual agreement, they stopped for gas first to give the humans a chance to use the restroom, then went on to a restaurant for a sit-down breakfast, their first meal on the trip that wasn’t snagged from a drive-through or a convenience store. Somehow, though, something happened at the gas station that put Samuel in a bad mood; Sam hadn’t witnessed whatever it was, but while Samuel had been the only one not complaining about the discomfort being in the car for so long when they got there, Sam came out of the restroom to find Samuel sulking in the car. Samuel didn’t say anything when the others returned, though, so Sam figured he’d brushed off whatever it was.
He figured wrong, however, as was quickly proven at the IHOP when the waitress made her way around the table taking orders and finally asked, “And for you, Father?”
“Brother,” Samuel said flatly with a look Sam recognized from his own face as indicating extreme annoyance.
“... I’m sorry?”
“My name is Brother Samuel. I am not a priest.”
And suddenly Sam understood. They hadn’t stopped often since leaving Lake Tahoe, but Samuel had been addressed as Father or Padre almost every time they had stopped. There were only so many punches a person could roll with, even as a monk; Sam didn’t think he’d be this restrained if he’d been stranded in the wrong year and told he had to save the world. Again. Especially if people kept getting his name wrong.
“Sorry,” Dean told the flustered waitress. “It’s been a long drive-family emergency-and it’s his first time away from the monastery in a couple of years. He’ll have oatmeal.”
Samuel sighed. “Aye. My apologies.”
Gabriel reached over and squeezed the back of Samuel’s neck, a token of comfort and forgiveness that suddenly felt more meaningful knowing that Gabriel was the Gabriel. Sam could almost see the tension drain out of Samuel.
“Oh, the... the mistake was mine... B-brother,” the waitress stammered, trying hard to regain her composure. “Would you like anything with that-maple syrup, cinnamon sugar?”
Samuel looked at Gabriel and Dean in confusion.
“Cinnamon sugar sounds good,” said Gabriel, raising his eyebrows at Samuel, who smiled and nodded. “And tea to drink.”
“Sweet or unsweet?”
“Unsweet, no ice.”
The waitress nodded, shot Samuel an apologetic smile, and left.
“What is tea?” Old Dean asked Gabriel quietly, having followed Dean’s lead and ordered coffee with biscuits and gravy.
While Jess explained that, the lack of trenchers, and general modern etiquette for eating at a table, Sam looked across at Samuel. “Hey. You doin’ all right?”
Samuel shrugged.
“Look, we get it. This is hard, for all of us. Nobody’s mad at you.”
Samuel smiled sheepishly. “My thanks, Sam.” Then he glanced down at the table before meeting Sam’s eyes again. “Thou art as good a man as Gabriel and Castiel had told us thou wouldst be, as is thy brother. I am glad of that.”
Sam swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. Finally, he managed, “Thanks. That... that means a lot.”
Just then the waitress returned with their food, after which Jess asked, “Brother Samuel? Would you say grace for us?”
Samuel positively beamed and did so, and while he stuck to the Cistercian rule of not speaking during the meal, he seemed to be much happier when they left. In fact, everyone seemed to be in a good mood.
But that lasted only until Dean had his hand on the handle of the driver’s door and suddenly looked up at Sam and swore. “I forgot to call Mom and Dad.”
Even after six hours, Mary couldn’t stop pacing. Sam’s call had been beyond cryptic, but something had happened to make the boys abandon the fun weekend they’d had planned with Gabriel at Lake Tahoe and drive nearly straight through to get to Lawrence. She’d had her suspicions about Gabriel and Cas for a long time, but they’d always seemed to be on the side of good, so she hadn’t tried to find out what they were. Yet there were demonic omens in the area; she’d have had to be blind to miss them. They’d started shortly before something had gone seriously wrong with a school bus that was supposed to be taking a group of kids on a field trip to a museum in Kansas City. Instead of taking I-70 northeast, it had broken down at the west edge of town, in the westbound lane of Highway 40-the road to Stull-and the driver, who’d been found unconscious at the wheel, swore by all that was holy that he didn’t remember even getting on the bus.
And now Gabriel was bringing the boys home.
It made a terrible kind of sense, yet it didn’t make sense at all. And Mary’s mind kept sticking on the fact that the boys would be passing within just two miles or so of Stull Cemetery. Sam had said they were in Goodland and had sworn they’d only stop for gas and were driving straight through, so they weren’t all that overdue, but until she knew they were safe....
John had just opened his mouth to suggest something when they heard Dean’s Impala pull up. Mary was out the door and halfway to the driveway before Dean even got the engine shut off. Dean jumped out and pulled her into a relieved hug, by the end of which Sam and Jess were at his side and also ready for hugs while Dean moved on to hug John quickly.
“You guys okay?” Dean asked.
“Yeah, we’re fine,” John replied. “You’ve got your mama pretty worked up, but we’re okay.”
It wasn’t until Mary released Jess that she realized that Gabriel was letting other people out of the car and that he and Sam and Jess were deliberately shielding them from Mary’s view. Frowning in confusion, she looked up at Sam.
“Mom,” he said, “don’t freak out, but... there’s a reason we came straight here, and it’s kind of complicated.”
“What are you talking about?”
Gabriel nodded to Sam and stepped aside. Sam and Jess did likewise to reveal... another Sam and another Dean. The Sam, a monk, was staring at John and crossing himself; the Dean was staring at Mary like he’d seen a ghost.
Dean walked around to come up between the doppelgangers and pulled them forward a little, one arm around each double’s shoulders. “Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet some distant relatives of ours from England. This is Brother Samuel of Rievaulx; this is his older brother Dean of Winchester; and they’ve come all the way from the year 1150.”
“Bull,” said John.
Brother Samuel’s breath caught, and he looked at Dean. “Thou art certain that is thy father?”
Dean nodded. “Was yours named John, too?”
“Aye. He died last fall. And... thy mother....”
“Mary Campbell,” Mary said. “Of the Clan Campbell-our people came from Argyll and Menstrie.”
Dean of Winchester paled, swallowed hard, and declared, “I need a drink.”
“Wait. Just... just wait.” Mary dashed back into the house to a stash she thought she’d never need again, retrieved the silver knife and the flask of holy water, and ran back out to find John and Gabriel quietly growling at each other about something.
Sam frowned when he saw what she held. “Mom?”
But the doppelgangers were already pushing up their sleeves. “This is wise, Sam,” said Dean of Winchester. “Good tests for one of our league. If she knows aught of what has happened, she does well to test us all to make sure we are who we claim.”
Mary swallowed hard. “Y-you’re hunters?”
“Aye, raised to it. Father... a devil killed our mother, you see, and Father would see her avenged. ’Twas two years ago in our day that Gabriel and Castiel helped us see it done.”
Mary ignored the growing knot in her stomach as she applied the cut test to the doubles and found that they weren’t shapeshifters or anything else that could be harmed by silver; their blood was a normal human red. Then she handed over the holy water, and they drank easily.
“’Tis holy water,” Brother Samuel explained as he handed the flask to Dean. “Shows that we are not possessed.”
Dean raised an eyebrow but drank and handed the flask on to Sam, who passed it to Jess, who passed it to Gabriel. Gabriel drank, tossed some in John’s face, and tossed the flask back to Mary, who let it slosh on her when she caught it.
“So!” Gabriel said cheerfully. “All identities confirmed. What say we break out the Johnny Walker Blue to get the ancestors past their boggle check?”
John glared, but Mary sighed. “All right. Come inside.”
Half an hour later, John stomped out the back door and flung himself into a lawn chair. He didn’t want to go far, but he had to get out of the house.
His entire family had gone absolutely, certifiably insane.
The monk who looked like Sam had gone off to pray, but John didn’t get the impression he was praying because he hadn’t believed the crazy story Gabriel had been telling them. No, all of them-all of them-somehow had Gabriel pegged as the archangel himself and believed every word he’d said. Then the monk had said something about Sext and Gabriel had nodded, and Sam had showed the monk upstairs to his room while Gabriel was explaining that Sext meant some kind of prayer. Then Cas had shown up and started talking with Mary, Dean, and Dean (!) about strategy for catching the so-called demon, and John just couldn’t take it anymore.
Cold glass suddenly touched his hand, and he looked away from the hole he was trying to stare in the back fence to find Jess handing him a beer. “Thanks,” he said, taking it from her.
Jess smiled and sat down in the chair next to him with a beer of her own. “Looks like Sam decided to pray the Hours with Brother Samuel. Guess I’m not really surprised.”
“Think he’s planning on becoming a monk himself?”
She snorted. “Not likely. He’s just been curious about religion for a long time. He believes in God, and he prays, but that seems to be as far as it goes most of the time. He’s not as committed to church stuff as Dean’s been since he got back from Iraq.”
“And you?”
“I don’t know what I believe right now.”
“You don’t... seriously think Gabriel’s an angel, do you?”
She looked him in the eye. “He showed us his wings yesterday. He snapped his fingers, and all of a sudden Old Dean and Brother Samuel could speak English. I can’t see how he’s not an angel.”
He frowned. “What do you mean, they could speak English?”
“When we ran into them at the fair, they couldn’t-at least, not Modern English. The language they were speaking kind of sounded like something out of Beowulf. And Brother Samuel speaks Latin.”
John was still processing that statement when he heard the garage door open. “He can have chicken, though, right?” Dean was asking someone.
“Aye,” replied the other Dean. “Chicken or fish, I deem, or other fowl. ’Tis the Feast of St. Boniface; he can have aught.”
“Fish, huh? Ooh, Long John’s-nah, you guys probably wouldn’t like the way they do fish. We’d better stick with chicken.”
“Does no one cook at home on Sundays, then?”
“Well, it depends....” The rest of Dean’s reply was cut off by the Impala’s doors opening and shutting and the engine starting.
Jess chuckled. “I think Old Dean loves that car as much as our Dean does. You should have heard Brother Samuel yelp the first time Dean put his foot down, though. It took us an hour to convince him we weren’t actually flying.”
“You’re sure they’re not-I dunno-the Catholic version of Amish?”
“I don’t think the Amish eat off of trenchers.”
John sighed.
“I know. I’m having a hard time getting my head around it all, too. And I’ve been stuck in the car with them for a whole day!”
“Jess, you’re a smart girl....”
She held up a hand. “Spare me the ‘you’re too smart to believe in the supernatural’ talk, John. I get it all the time at Stanford. Like I said, I don’t know what I do believe, but I know what I’ve seen yesterday and today. And I think it’s too dangerous to assume Gabriel’s not telling the truth, especially since I’m apparently one of the people on Hell’s hit list. If he is wrong, then I’ve just gotten the wildest vacation of my life. But if he’s right and I don’t listen....”
He looked at her closely. “Was he specific?”
She nodded and looked down at her beer, playing with the label. “Disemboweled and burned alive, pinned to the ceiling over our bed. And Sam had to watch.”
He’d seen horrors in Vietnam, but somehow his mind just couldn’t process the idea of something like that happening to Sammy’s pretty, vivacious girlfriend, never mind Sammy having to watch Jess die. Part of him refused to believe it could be true. Part of him was willing to go to war again just to make sure it never would be true.
“You’re sure Amanda and the kids are safe?” he asked quietly.
Jess looked up and nodded. “Castiel took them to Mr. Singer’s place in South Dakota; Mr. Singer knows about... hunting, they call it. He can protect them. And there again, even if Gabriel’s wrong, no one would be likely to look for them in Sioux Falls rather than San Diego. Or here.”
John nodded thoughtfully. “And Singer’s a tough old coot. Between him and Rumsfeld, even Al Qaeda would have a tough time getting to Amanda.”
She grinned.
“Maybe... you ought to head up there yourself.”
She shook her head. “Thought about it. I’m safer with Sam.”
“You sure?”
“John, it’s six hours from here to Sioux Falls. What can happen on a highway in six hours, even from natural causes?”
He sighed. “I just want you safe, Jessie.”
“I know you do.” She stood, brushed a kiss on his cheek, and went inside.
John went back to staring at the fence and drinking his beer until he heard the Deans return and take their burden of fried chicken inside. Then he pulled himself together and started to walk slowly back into the house.
His reluctance vanished when he heard one of the Sams cry out in pain.
John rushed inside to find the family crowded around the staircase. Brother Samuel was collapsed against the railing, clutching his head and wailing while Sam and Gabriel kept him from falling. And given Gabriel’s posture, John could almost, almost see wings coming out from his back and wrapping around both Sams like a shield.
“Re-... Regina cœli,” Brother Samuel gasped. “Se-se-serva-RETRO ME, SATAN!” [4]
Gabriel uttered some kind of curse. “Shield your eyes, kids. I may have to go in.”
While everyone else looked away and screwed their eyes shut, Cas slammed his hand flat against the nearest wall, and light burst from... somewhere.
“Will someone tell me what the devil’s going on?!” John demanded.
“The devil is exactly what’s going on,” Cas snapped. “Cover your eyes!”
“GABRIEL!!!” Brother Samuel screamed.
And suddenly Cas was behind John, clamping his hands over John’s eyes before bright light blazed forth from somewhere, light that might otherwise have blinded him. Brother Samuel stopped screaming with a loud sob of relief, and the light faded. When Cas finally let go of John, Brother Samuel was slumped against the Dean with the beard, still panting hard; Sam was still bracing him from behind, looking deeply disturbed, and Gabriel had come down a couple of steps in front of them and was rubbing Brother Samuel’s shoulder.
“Chronos was right, wasn’t he?” Sam asked quietly. “She attacked the wrong Sam.”
Gabriel nodded. “Samuel’s better trained for this kind of warfare, but Meg’s probably the strongest demon he’s ever faced, apart from Azazel. She’s still trying to sideline us.”
Dean frowned. “I thought you said she couldn’t grab her victims until tomorrow.”
“She can’t do so easily,” Cas replied, stepping around John. “But if your brother had been subjected to that level of psychic attack....”
Dean paled and swallowed hard. “Will Samuel be okay?”
“Sa-... salveo sum,” Brother Samuel answered weakly. [5]
“Come eat, Samuel,” said Mary. “That should help.”
The other Dean tried to help Brother Samuel to his feet, but the monk was too weak to stand.
“Here,” Sam said, and when the other Dean shifted out of the way, Sam scooped Brother Samuel up and carried him down the stairs.
Jess ran to the dining table and brought back a rolling chair. Sam set Brother Samuel in it, but the other Dean insisted on being the one to push him into the dining room. Everyone else followed-except John, who was still trying to make sense of what he’d seen, and Cas, who was looking at him expectantly.
John shook his head. “I... I don’t... what happened?”
“Meg attacked Samuel, thinking he was Sam.”
“Meg?”
“The demon we are trying to stop.”
“So that... that....”
“Could have happened to your son, yes.”
“What... when you....”
“I warded this house. It couldn’t stop this attack, but it will prevent her from finding us here.”
“So it’s real. It’s all real.”
“Yes, John.”
Even as a stunned curse slipped out, John suddenly felt light-headed and woozy, like Earth’s axis had slipped or something.
Cas put a hand on John’s shoulder. “Come eat.”
John just nodded and let Cas pull him into the dining room.
Given that John and Mary’s house had windows fitted with glass but no servants at all, Dean had given up trying to figure out exactly how well off his offspring were. But he was grateful for one thing: they could afford chairs with wheels on them. That made it much, much simpler to move Samuel out of their dining hall after dinner and into another room with cushioned settles and chairs. Samuel had barely been able to feed himself, even with Dean cutting up the chicken for him and Jess filling the rest of his glass-trencher with foods he could eat with a spoon; there was no way he’d be able to walk that far even with support. So while the others were clearing up, Dean pushed Samuel into the other room using the wheeled chair, and Young Dean led them to a large chair with a lever on the side. Once they’d gotten Samuel settled into it, Young Dean pulled the lever back, which brought up a folding footrest and tilted the back so that Samuel could rest more comfortably.
“Gratias,” Samuel murmured.
“De nada,” Young Dean answered. [6]
“Oh, do thou speak English,” Dean chided Samuel fondly with a hint of a smile, which Samuel returned with a huff before his eyes slid shut.
Young Dean laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You want this chair?” he asked, pointing to the wheeled chair.
Dean briefly thought about leaving Samuel be and taking one of the other chairs or even sitting on the floor, but Samuel’s trembling suddenly grew to full-fledged shivers. Dean drew a deep breath and nodded as he reached for Samuel’s hand. “Aye. My thanks.”
Young Dean pulled the chair closer to let Dean sit. Then he found a blanket and covered Samuel with it. “Adrenaline crash,” he told Dean quietly. “At least, I hope that’s all it is.”
Dean didn’t know what adrenaline was, but he thought he understood what Young Dean meant with the crash-the bone-deep weariness one often felt after a fight. So he nodded. “’Twas a hard-fought battle indeed, it seems. The more so given that he cried for aid. I know little of the battles he has fought at Rievaulx, but seldom did his Sight cause him to cry out when we were young, and never in this wise; when I have heard him do so, ’twas only for the evil he saw.”
Young Dean frowned. “The Sight? You mean he’s psychic-sees the future, I mean?”
“We both do betimes. Samuel is the stronger there.” Somehow it no longer pained Dean to admit that.
“Does it come in, like, dreams or flashes or what?”
“Dreams betimes, betimes waking. I see short snatches betimes; Samuel sees more, and past as well as future. Betimes ’tis but a feeling, a knowing. Our mother was part Sìth; belike that is why.” [7]
Young Dean nodded slowly.
“Dean?” Samuel asked quietly, his eyes still closed.
“Yes?” both Deans replied.
“Where is Gabriel?”
“Right here, kiddo,” Gabriel answered, appearing beside the chair as Samuel opened his eyes. “She comin’ back?”
Samuel shook his head. “Not to my knowledge, but... I would fain....” He reddened a bit, as if ashamed of what he would ask.
“You want the others in here for this?”
Samuel shook his head.
“All right, then. No shame here. What did you see?”
A tear rolled down Samuel’s cheek. “Threats. So many threats. I thought at first ’twas a showing-I s-saw Young Dean thrown against a standing stone and his back broken-but then... then the pain... I knew aught was wrong... and ever the longer, the worse... John, Mary, Jess, Amanda, the children... blood and flames and torment... and....” He shuddered hard. “I... I cannot....”
“It’s all right, Samuel. We don’t need details.”
“Sh-sh-she taunted me... threatened me... ‘I will speak to my father,’ she said. ‘You shall not stop me, and if... if you try....’” Samuel shuddered again and burst into tears.
Young Dean reached into one of the pouches on the back of his trousers and pulled out a folded cloth of thin linen, which he unfolded and handed to Samuel. Samuel guessed at its use and pressed it to his face, both to catch his tears and to muffle his sobs.
Then, grim-faced, Young Dean looked up at Gabriel. “Tell me you got a way to kill this thing.”
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “You want to do the honors, huh?”
“You know it. No one touches my family. No one threatens my family. This demon might know hellhounds, but she don’t know the Devil Dogs. This means war.”
Gabriel smiled slowly. “I had a feeling you’d say that. Welcome to the family business, Dean.”
And though Dean felt no less wrath than did his namesake over what had happened to Samuel, he could not but feel oddly proud at that remark.
Next
[1] In holiness and justice before him, all our days. (Luke 1:75, Douay-Rheims; Latin text from the Vulgate)
[2] To enlighten them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death: to direct our feet into the way of peace. Lord, have mercy on us; Christ, have mercy on us; Lord, have mercy on us. Amen. (Verse: Luke 1:79)
[3] The medieval Liturgy of the Hours consists of Lauds, said at dawn; Prime, Terce, Sext, and None, said respectively at the first, third, sixth, and ninth hours of the day; Vespers, said in the evening; Compline, said at nightfall; and Matins, said at midnight.
[4] Queen of Heaven, save-GET BEHIND ME, SATAN!
[5] I’m fine.
[6] Gratias is actually Latin for “Thank you,” but modern American ears would most likely hear the Spanish equivalent Gracias.
[7] Fairy (Scots Gaelic)
Chapter 2
Alarms and Discursions
Sam didn’t know what woke him late that night. He barely remembered the last gas stop and the younger, taller generation rotating to sleep in the back seat-each brother resting against a window and Jess resting her head on Sam’s shoulder-while the twelfth-century Winchesters slept in the front when Gabriel took over driving. But as he sat up straighter, blinking blearily, it took him a moment to realize that there was a Dean behind the wheel.
The wrong Dean.
“Dude, what are you doing?!” Sam hissed, suddenly wide awake.
“Taking my watch,” Old Dean replied evenly.
“Since when do you know how to drive?”
“Today.” Sam’s mouth fell open, but Old Dean continued, “I have been watching, and it is not all that hard at this hour, when there are few others on the road. I could not sleep, so Gabriel offered to give me a turn.”
“Dean’s going to kill you if you hurt his car, man.”
“No, he won’t,” Gabriel replied, leaning his head back over the back of the seat rather than turning around-a move that was vintage Uncle Gabe. “Grandfather paradox. Besides, archangel copilot. I’ll keep him on the road.”
“But-”
“Night, Short Stuff.” And that was the last thing Sam heard until morning.
What woke him then-from an awful dream involving Dean getting his back broken by falling hard against a gravestone-was the sound of quiet chanting in Latin. He forced himself to wake up all the way and opened his eyes to find the early light of morning falling on Gabriel, who was driving, and the bowed heads of Old Dean and Samuel, the latter of whom was doing the chanting. Sam could barely hear him over the sound of the engine, but if he listened carefully, he could just make out the words:
“... in sanctitate et justitia coram ipso, omnibus diebus nostris....” [1]
Sam frowned a little and sat up, trying to place the words. Dad’s friend Pastor Jim was Lutheran, but he’d given the boys a taste of the Latin Mass in Gregorian chant once upon a time just because they’d been curious. That was what this sounded like, but he didn’t quite recognize it.
“... illuminare his qui in tenebris et in umbra mortis sedent: ad dirigendos pedes nostros in viam pacis. Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison. Amen.” [2] Then Samuel and Old Dean crossed themselves and sat up.
“Lauds,” Gabriel explained, glancing back at Sam in the rearview mirror. “Morning, Sam.”
“Hey,” Sam returned groggily. “What’s Lauds?”
“Morning prayer, said at dawn. Samuel has to say the Hours if he can, even if he’s on the road.” [3]
Samuel turned with a gentle smile. “I am sorry if I woke you.”
Sam shook his head. “No, ’s okay. Where are we?”
“About two hours east of Denver,” said Gabriel, “just passed through Kanorado a few minutes ago. Figured we’d stop in Goodland for gas and breakfast.”
Sam nodded. “Sure. Sounds good.”
Old Dean turned then. “What manner of word is Kanorado, anyway?”
“It’s a portmanteau word; you take the first part of Kansas and the last part of Colorado and put them together. The town’s called that because it sits on the state line. Lot of place names like that in Texas, too-Texarkana, Texoma.”
“Now, Colorado is a Spanish word, I deem.”
“Right, Rio Colorado, the red-colored river. They named the state after the river.”
“But what is Kansas?”
“The Kanza people originally lived here. The state’s named after them.”
“And what manner of men are they?”
“Very distant relatives of the Skrælings,” Gabriel replied, “but there haven’t been any wars with them in nearly 150 years.”
Samuel and Old Dean stared at him.
Sam frowned. “Really? I thought the Skrælings were Inuit, not Siouan.”
Gabriel smiled a little. “Sam, all humans are related if you go back far enough. You’re all descended from Noah.”
But Old Dean, it seemed, was still stuck on Skrælings. “Will we meet any?”
“Probably not. Most of ’em live a long way south. And you might not recognize them if you did see them. Most dress just like everyone else now.”
“Oh.” Sam wasn’t sure if Old Dean was relieved or disappointed.
Dean and Jess woke up as the car slowed down to turn off the highway into Goodland. By mutual agreement, they stopped for gas first to give the humans a chance to use the restroom, then went on to a restaurant for a sit-down breakfast, their first meal on the trip that wasn’t snagged from a drive-through or a convenience store. Somehow, though, something happened at the gas station that put Samuel in a bad mood; Sam hadn’t witnessed whatever it was, but while Samuel had been the only one not complaining about the discomfort being in the car for so long when they got there, Sam came out of the restroom to find Samuel sulking in the car. Samuel didn’t say anything when the others returned, though, so Sam figured he’d brushed off whatever it was.
He figured wrong, however, as was quickly proven at the IHOP when the waitress made her way around the table taking orders and finally asked, “And for you, Father?”
“Brother,” Samuel said flatly with a look Sam recognized from his own face as indicating extreme annoyance.
“... I’m sorry?”
“My name is Brother Samuel. I am not a priest.”
And suddenly Sam understood. They hadn’t stopped often since leaving Lake Tahoe, but Samuel had been addressed as Father or Padre almost every time they had stopped. There were only so many punches a person could roll with, even as a monk; Sam didn’t think he’d be this restrained if he’d been stranded in the wrong year and told he had to save the world. Again. Especially if people kept getting his name wrong.
“Sorry,” Dean told the flustered waitress. “It’s been a long drive-family emergency-and it’s his first time away from the monastery in a couple of years. He’ll have oatmeal.”
Samuel sighed. “Aye. My apologies.”
Gabriel reached over and squeezed the back of Samuel’s neck, a token of comfort and forgiveness that suddenly felt more meaningful knowing that Gabriel was the Gabriel. Sam could almost see the tension drain out of Samuel.
“Oh, the... the mistake was mine... B-brother,” the waitress stammered, trying hard to regain her composure. “Would you like anything with that-maple syrup, cinnamon sugar?”
Samuel looked at Gabriel and Dean in confusion.
“Cinnamon sugar sounds good,” said Gabriel, raising his eyebrows at Samuel, who smiled and nodded. “And tea to drink.”
“Sweet or unsweet?”
“Unsweet, no ice.”
The waitress nodded, shot Samuel an apologetic smile, and left.
“What is tea?” Old Dean asked Gabriel quietly, having followed Dean’s lead and ordered coffee with biscuits and gravy.
While Jess explained that, the lack of trenchers, and general modern etiquette for eating at a table, Sam looked across at Samuel. “Hey. You doin’ all right?”
Samuel shrugged.
“Look, we get it. This is hard, for all of us. Nobody’s mad at you.”
Samuel smiled sheepishly. “My thanks, Sam.” Then he glanced down at the table before meeting Sam’s eyes again. “Thou art as good a man as Gabriel and Castiel had told us thou wouldst be, as is thy brother. I am glad of that.”
Sam swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. Finally, he managed, “Thanks. That... that means a lot.”
Just then the waitress returned with their food, after which Jess asked, “Brother Samuel? Would you say grace for us?”
Samuel positively beamed and did so, and while he stuck to the Cistercian rule of not speaking during the meal, he seemed to be much happier when they left. In fact, everyone seemed to be in a good mood.
But that lasted only until Dean had his hand on the handle of the driver’s door and suddenly looked up at Sam and swore. “I forgot to call Mom and Dad.”
Even after six hours, Mary couldn’t stop pacing. Sam’s call had been beyond cryptic, but something had happened to make the boys abandon the fun weekend they’d had planned with Gabriel at Lake Tahoe and drive nearly straight through to get to Lawrence. She’d had her suspicions about Gabriel and Cas for a long time, but they’d always seemed to be on the side of good, so she hadn’t tried to find out what they were. Yet there were demonic omens in the area; she’d have had to be blind to miss them. They’d started shortly before something had gone seriously wrong with a school bus that was supposed to be taking a group of kids on a field trip to a museum in Kansas City. Instead of taking I-70 northeast, it had broken down at the west edge of town, in the westbound lane of Highway 40-the road to Stull-and the driver, who’d been found unconscious at the wheel, swore by all that was holy that he didn’t remember even getting on the bus.
And now Gabriel was bringing the boys home.
It made a terrible kind of sense, yet it didn’t make sense at all. And Mary’s mind kept sticking on the fact that the boys would be passing within just two miles or so of Stull Cemetery. Sam had said they were in Goodland and had sworn they’d only stop for gas and were driving straight through, so they weren’t all that overdue, but until she knew they were safe....
John had just opened his mouth to suggest something when they heard Dean’s Impala pull up. Mary was out the door and halfway to the driveway before Dean even got the engine shut off. Dean jumped out and pulled her into a relieved hug, by the end of which Sam and Jess were at his side and also ready for hugs while Dean moved on to hug John quickly.
“You guys okay?” Dean asked.
“Yeah, we’re fine,” John replied. “You’ve got your mama pretty worked up, but we’re okay.”
It wasn’t until Mary released Jess that she realized that Gabriel was letting other people out of the car and that he and Sam and Jess were deliberately shielding them from Mary’s view. Frowning in confusion, she looked up at Sam.
“Mom,” he said, “don’t freak out, but... there’s a reason we came straight here, and it’s kind of complicated.”
“What are you talking about?”
Gabriel nodded to Sam and stepped aside. Sam and Jess did likewise to reveal... another Sam and another Dean. The Sam, a monk, was staring at John and crossing himself; the Dean was staring at Mary like he’d seen a ghost.
Dean walked around to come up between the doppelgangers and pulled them forward a little, one arm around each double’s shoulders. “Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet some distant relatives of ours from England. This is Brother Samuel of Rievaulx; this is his older brother Dean of Winchester; and they’ve come all the way from the year 1150.”
“Bull,” said John.
Brother Samuel’s breath caught, and he looked at Dean. “Thou art certain that is thy father?”
Dean nodded. “Was yours named John, too?”
“Aye. He died last fall. And... thy mother....”
“Mary Campbell,” Mary said. “Of the Clan Campbell-our people came from Argyll and Menstrie.”
Dean of Winchester paled, swallowed hard, and declared, “I need a drink.”
“Wait. Just... just wait.” Mary dashed back into the house to a stash she thought she’d never need again, retrieved the silver knife and the flask of holy water, and ran back out to find John and Gabriel quietly growling at each other about something.
Sam frowned when he saw what she held. “Mom?”
But the doppelgangers were already pushing up their sleeves. “This is wise, Sam,” said Dean of Winchester. “Good tests for one of our league. If she knows aught of what has happened, she does well to test us all to make sure we are who we claim.”
Mary swallowed hard. “Y-you’re hunters?”
“Aye, raised to it. Father... a devil killed our mother, you see, and Father would see her avenged. ’Twas two years ago in our day that Gabriel and Castiel helped us see it done.”
Mary ignored the growing knot in her stomach as she applied the cut test to the doubles and found that they weren’t shapeshifters or anything else that could be harmed by silver; their blood was a normal human red. Then she handed over the holy water, and they drank easily.
“’Tis holy water,” Brother Samuel explained as he handed the flask to Dean. “Shows that we are not possessed.”
Dean raised an eyebrow but drank and handed the flask on to Sam, who passed it to Jess, who passed it to Gabriel. Gabriel drank, tossed some in John’s face, and tossed the flask back to Mary, who let it slosh on her when she caught it.
“So!” Gabriel said cheerfully. “All identities confirmed. What say we break out the Johnny Walker Blue to get the ancestors past their boggle check?”
John glared, but Mary sighed. “All right. Come inside.”
Half an hour later, John stomped out the back door and flung himself into a lawn chair. He didn’t want to go far, but he had to get out of the house.
His entire family had gone absolutely, certifiably insane.
The monk who looked like Sam had gone off to pray, but John didn’t get the impression he was praying because he hadn’t believed the crazy story Gabriel had been telling them. No, all of them-all of them-somehow had Gabriel pegged as the archangel himself and believed every word he’d said. Then the monk had said something about Sext and Gabriel had nodded, and Sam had showed the monk upstairs to his room while Gabriel was explaining that Sext meant some kind of prayer. Then Cas had shown up and started talking with Mary, Dean, and Dean (!) about strategy for catching the so-called demon, and John just couldn’t take it anymore.
Cold glass suddenly touched his hand, and he looked away from the hole he was trying to stare in the back fence to find Jess handing him a beer. “Thanks,” he said, taking it from her.
Jess smiled and sat down in the chair next to him with a beer of her own. “Looks like Sam decided to pray the Hours with Brother Samuel. Guess I’m not really surprised.”
“Think he’s planning on becoming a monk himself?”
She snorted. “Not likely. He’s just been curious about religion for a long time. He believes in God, and he prays, but that seems to be as far as it goes most of the time. He’s not as committed to church stuff as Dean’s been since he got back from Iraq.”
“And you?”
“I don’t know what I believe right now.”
“You don’t... seriously think Gabriel’s an angel, do you?”
She looked him in the eye. “He showed us his wings yesterday. He snapped his fingers, and all of a sudden Old Dean and Brother Samuel could speak English. I can’t see how he’s not an angel.”
He frowned. “What do you mean, they could speak English?”
“When we ran into them at the fair, they couldn’t-at least, not Modern English. The language they were speaking kind of sounded like something out of Beowulf. And Brother Samuel speaks Latin.”
John was still processing that statement when he heard the garage door open. “He can have chicken, though, right?” Dean was asking someone.
“Aye,” replied the other Dean. “Chicken or fish, I deem, or other fowl. ’Tis the Feast of St. Boniface; he can have aught.”
“Fish, huh? Ooh, Long John’s-nah, you guys probably wouldn’t like the way they do fish. We’d better stick with chicken.”
“Does no one cook at home on Sundays, then?”
“Well, it depends....” The rest of Dean’s reply was cut off by the Impala’s doors opening and shutting and the engine starting.
Jess chuckled. “I think Old Dean loves that car as much as our Dean does. You should have heard Brother Samuel yelp the first time Dean put his foot down, though. It took us an hour to convince him we weren’t actually flying.”
“You’re sure they’re not-I dunno-the Catholic version of Amish?”
“I don’t think the Amish eat off of trenchers.”
John sighed.
“I know. I’m having a hard time getting my head around it all, too. And I’ve been stuck in the car with them for a whole day!”
“Jess, you’re a smart girl....”
She held up a hand. “Spare me the ‘you’re too smart to believe in the supernatural’ talk, John. I get it all the time at Stanford. Like I said, I don’t know what I do believe, but I know what I’ve seen yesterday and today. And I think it’s too dangerous to assume Gabriel’s not telling the truth, especially since I’m apparently one of the people on Hell’s hit list. If he is wrong, then I’ve just gotten the wildest vacation of my life. But if he’s right and I don’t listen....”
He looked at her closely. “Was he specific?”
She nodded and looked down at her beer, playing with the label. “Disemboweled and burned alive, pinned to the ceiling over our bed. And Sam had to watch.”
He’d seen horrors in Vietnam, but somehow his mind just couldn’t process the idea of something like that happening to Sammy’s pretty, vivacious girlfriend, never mind Sammy having to watch Jess die. Part of him refused to believe it could be true. Part of him was willing to go to war again just to make sure it never would be true.
“You’re sure Amanda and the kids are safe?” he asked quietly.
Jess looked up and nodded. “Castiel took them to Mr. Singer’s place in South Dakota; Mr. Singer knows about... hunting, they call it. He can protect them. And there again, even if Gabriel’s wrong, no one would be likely to look for them in Sioux Falls rather than San Diego. Or here.”
John nodded thoughtfully. “And Singer’s a tough old coot. Between him and Rumsfeld, even Al Qaeda would have a tough time getting to Amanda.”
She grinned.
“Maybe... you ought to head up there yourself.”
She shook her head. “Thought about it. I’m safer with Sam.”
“You sure?”
“John, it’s six hours from here to Sioux Falls. What can happen on a highway in six hours, even from natural causes?”
He sighed. “I just want you safe, Jessie.”
“I know you do.” She stood, brushed a kiss on his cheek, and went inside.
John went back to staring at the fence and drinking his beer until he heard the Deans return and take their burden of fried chicken inside. Then he pulled himself together and started to walk slowly back into the house.
His reluctance vanished when he heard one of the Sams cry out in pain.
John rushed inside to find the family crowded around the staircase. Brother Samuel was collapsed against the railing, clutching his head and wailing while Sam and Gabriel kept him from falling. And given Gabriel’s posture, John could almost, almost see wings coming out from his back and wrapping around both Sams like a shield.
“Re-... Regina cœli,” Brother Samuel gasped. “Se-se-serva-RETRO ME, SATAN!” [4]
Gabriel uttered some kind of curse. “Shield your eyes, kids. I may have to go in.”
While everyone else looked away and screwed their eyes shut, Cas slammed his hand flat against the nearest wall, and light burst from... somewhere.
“Will someone tell me what the devil’s going on?!” John demanded.
“The devil is exactly what’s going on,” Cas snapped. “Cover your eyes!”
“GABRIEL!!!” Brother Samuel screamed.
And suddenly Cas was behind John, clamping his hands over John’s eyes before bright light blazed forth from somewhere, light that might otherwise have blinded him. Brother Samuel stopped screaming with a loud sob of relief, and the light faded. When Cas finally let go of John, Brother Samuel was slumped against the Dean with the beard, still panting hard; Sam was still bracing him from behind, looking deeply disturbed, and Gabriel had come down a couple of steps in front of them and was rubbing Brother Samuel’s shoulder.
“Chronos was right, wasn’t he?” Sam asked quietly. “She attacked the wrong Sam.”
Gabriel nodded. “Samuel’s better trained for this kind of warfare, but Meg’s probably the strongest demon he’s ever faced, apart from Azazel. She’s still trying to sideline us.”
Dean frowned. “I thought you said she couldn’t grab her victims until tomorrow.”
“She can’t do so easily,” Cas replied, stepping around John. “But if your brother had been subjected to that level of psychic attack....”
Dean paled and swallowed hard. “Will Samuel be okay?”
“Sa-... salveo sum,” Brother Samuel answered weakly. [5]
“Come eat, Samuel,” said Mary. “That should help.”
The other Dean tried to help Brother Samuel to his feet, but the monk was too weak to stand.
“Here,” Sam said, and when the other Dean shifted out of the way, Sam scooped Brother Samuel up and carried him down the stairs.
Jess ran to the dining table and brought back a rolling chair. Sam set Brother Samuel in it, but the other Dean insisted on being the one to push him into the dining room. Everyone else followed-except John, who was still trying to make sense of what he’d seen, and Cas, who was looking at him expectantly.
John shook his head. “I... I don’t... what happened?”
“Meg attacked Samuel, thinking he was Sam.”
“Meg?”
“The demon we are trying to stop.”
“So that... that....”
“Could have happened to your son, yes.”
“What... when you....”
“I warded this house. It couldn’t stop this attack, but it will prevent her from finding us here.”
“So it’s real. It’s all real.”
“Yes, John.”
Even as a stunned curse slipped out, John suddenly felt light-headed and woozy, like Earth’s axis had slipped or something.
Cas put a hand on John’s shoulder. “Come eat.”
John just nodded and let Cas pull him into the dining room.
Given that John and Mary’s house had windows fitted with glass but no servants at all, Dean had given up trying to figure out exactly how well off his offspring were. But he was grateful for one thing: they could afford chairs with wheels on them. That made it much, much simpler to move Samuel out of their dining hall after dinner and into another room with cushioned settles and chairs. Samuel had barely been able to feed himself, even with Dean cutting up the chicken for him and Jess filling the rest of his glass-trencher with foods he could eat with a spoon; there was no way he’d be able to walk that far even with support. So while the others were clearing up, Dean pushed Samuel into the other room using the wheeled chair, and Young Dean led them to a large chair with a lever on the side. Once they’d gotten Samuel settled into it, Young Dean pulled the lever back, which brought up a folding footrest and tilted the back so that Samuel could rest more comfortably.
“Gratias,” Samuel murmured.
“De nada,” Young Dean answered. [6]
“Oh, do thou speak English,” Dean chided Samuel fondly with a hint of a smile, which Samuel returned with a huff before his eyes slid shut.
Young Dean laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You want this chair?” he asked, pointing to the wheeled chair.
Dean briefly thought about leaving Samuel be and taking one of the other chairs or even sitting on the floor, but Samuel’s trembling suddenly grew to full-fledged shivers. Dean drew a deep breath and nodded as he reached for Samuel’s hand. “Aye. My thanks.”
Young Dean pulled the chair closer to let Dean sit. Then he found a blanket and covered Samuel with it. “Adrenaline crash,” he told Dean quietly. “At least, I hope that’s all it is.”
Dean didn’t know what adrenaline was, but he thought he understood what Young Dean meant with the crash-the bone-deep weariness one often felt after a fight. So he nodded. “’Twas a hard-fought battle indeed, it seems. The more so given that he cried for aid. I know little of the battles he has fought at Rievaulx, but seldom did his Sight cause him to cry out when we were young, and never in this wise; when I have heard him do so, ’twas only for the evil he saw.”
Young Dean frowned. “The Sight? You mean he’s psychic-sees the future, I mean?”
“We both do betimes. Samuel is the stronger there.” Somehow it no longer pained Dean to admit that.
“Does it come in, like, dreams or flashes or what?”
“Dreams betimes, betimes waking. I see short snatches betimes; Samuel sees more, and past as well as future. Betimes ’tis but a feeling, a knowing. Our mother was part Sìth; belike that is why.” [7]
Young Dean nodded slowly.
“Dean?” Samuel asked quietly, his eyes still closed.
“Yes?” both Deans replied.
“Where is Gabriel?”
“Right here, kiddo,” Gabriel answered, appearing beside the chair as Samuel opened his eyes. “She comin’ back?”
Samuel shook his head. “Not to my knowledge, but... I would fain....” He reddened a bit, as if ashamed of what he would ask.
“You want the others in here for this?”
Samuel shook his head.
“All right, then. No shame here. What did you see?”
A tear rolled down Samuel’s cheek. “Threats. So many threats. I thought at first ’twas a showing-I s-saw Young Dean thrown against a standing stone and his back broken-but then... then the pain... I knew aught was wrong... and ever the longer, the worse... John, Mary, Jess, Amanda, the children... blood and flames and torment... and....” He shuddered hard. “I... I cannot....”
“It’s all right, Samuel. We don’t need details.”
“Sh-sh-she taunted me... threatened me... ‘I will speak to my father,’ she said. ‘You shall not stop me, and if... if you try....’” Samuel shuddered again and burst into tears.
Young Dean reached into one of the pouches on the back of his trousers and pulled out a folded cloth of thin linen, which he unfolded and handed to Samuel. Samuel guessed at its use and pressed it to his face, both to catch his tears and to muffle his sobs.
Then, grim-faced, Young Dean looked up at Gabriel. “Tell me you got a way to kill this thing.”
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “You want to do the honors, huh?”
“You know it. No one touches my family. No one threatens my family. This demon might know hellhounds, but she don’t know the Devil Dogs. This means war.”
Gabriel smiled slowly. “I had a feeling you’d say that. Welcome to the family business, Dean.”
And though Dean felt no less wrath than did his namesake over what had happened to Samuel, he could not but feel oddly proud at that remark.
Next
[1] In holiness and justice before him, all our days. (Luke 1:75, Douay-Rheims; Latin text from the Vulgate)
[2] To enlighten them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death: to direct our feet into the way of peace. Lord, have mercy on us; Christ, have mercy on us; Lord, have mercy on us. Amen. (Verse: Luke 1:79)
[3] The medieval Liturgy of the Hours consists of Lauds, said at dawn; Prime, Terce, Sext, and None, said respectively at the first, third, sixth, and ninth hours of the day; Vespers, said in the evening; Compline, said at nightfall; and Matins, said at midnight.
[4] Queen of Heaven, save-GET BEHIND ME, SATAN!
[5] I’m fine.
[6] Gratias is actually Latin for “Thank you,” but modern American ears would most likely hear the Spanish equivalent Gracias.
[7] Fairy (Scots Gaelic)