Shadow of the Wind - Chapter Five: Door to Dreams
Title: Shadow of the Wind
Subtitle: Door to Dreams
Author: dracox-serdriel
There was a fire burning on earth.
It had started in the dead of night, in the hours just past midnight. Humans had gathered wood with their bare hands. Sweat lead to splinters, and splinters lead to blood. Blood and sweat fed each tongue of flame.
Men of Letters Bunker. May 16, 2008.
Sam felt like hell. His body ached. His mind raced. Dean told him that they'd already killed Lilith. As the final seal, her death was one of those paradox things. That meant that they didn't have much time.
And Crowley would just not shut up.
Dean and Cas returned.
"You!" Crowley said. "You failed to mention that my part in this would make me human!"
"They failed to tell me that as well," Cas replied.
"Focus, people. Sam, what went wrong?"
"Nothing. He's human," Sam said, pointing a thumb at Crowley. "Trust me. He's done nothing but bitch since."
"So you finished the last trial, you said the spell, and nothing happened?"
"No, things happened," Sam said. "I feel worse than ever. The Cure worked, but that's it. The Gates aren't closed."
"How do you know?" Crowley asked. "Maybe they are. It's not like we'd have any way to know!"
"We would know," Cas replied.
"Also, got a line from a contact of dad's out west," Dean said. "Several demon attacks in California as of this morning."
Cas said, "I think the problem is you haven't done the first two trials."
"Yes, I have!"
"Not yet," Cas explained. "Technically, you don't do them until two thousand and thirteen. That's probably why Metatron was so willing to send us back in time."
"That makes sense, but it also means we're screwed," Dean said. "We've only got a day or two to get our shit together. Crowley, we need to get in contact with a rouge reaper."
"Rough reaper?" Crowley repeated in disbelief. "Please."
"You knew where they were in the future, so I assume you know where they are now," Dean insisted.
Cas said, "That was after the Apocalypse fell apart. Between the Civil War in Heaven and Purgatory being opened up, reapers began to rebel."
"What is this one on about?" Crowley asked. "You're mad, the lot of you!"
"Look, as of right now, we only have a few days to do the first two trials," Dean said. "One isn't a big deal, killing a hellhound and bathing in its blood."
"Not a big deal?" Crowley said incredulously. "You can't even see them!"
"Relax," Sam said. "The other trial is gonna be harder."
"What bloody idiotic thing could that be?!"
"Freeing an innocent soul from hell," Cas said casually. "Which was difficult even with a reaper's help."
"Oh, this is... how on earth did I get stuck with you lot?"
"You're already screwed," Dean said. "So get on board and help us, or get ready for round two in hell."
"And you couldn't mention any of this yesterday?" Crowley demanded.
Dean asked, "Why would yesterday make a difference?"
New York, New York. May 15, 2007.
Bela Talbot pulled up in a ridiculous car, dressed to the nines. She handed her keys to the valet and strolled into Elements, a high-end restaurant in the middle of Manhattan.
"Miss Talbot?" the man behind the front desk said. "Mister Crowley is waiting for you."
He led her to a table on a platform overlooking the rest of the restaurant.
"Mr. Crowley?" she asked.
"Miss Bela Talbot," he said. "Please, sit."
"I reviewed your offer," Bela said. "Sounds too good to be true."
"Does it?"
"I've only a year left before my contract comes due, and now I have a white knight swooping in."
"Hardly," he said. "I am in dire need, otherwise this offer wouldn't be on the table to begin with."
"And you're willing to forgive my debt if I do this?"
"Forgiveness isn't in my nature. No, darling, this is business. I need a cold-hearted bitch who can find me rare items without asking a lot of stupid questions or attracting unnecessary attention."
"You've had experience with this, I take it."
"Demons tend to lack subtlety," Crowley said. "The smart ones do their best to stay out of this line of work. So, are you interested?"
"Why me?"
"You?" Crowley asked. "Well, you've come highly recommended when it comes to acquiring unique objects, love. You've pissed off the right people, but you're still alive. I like that. Finding, coercing, pilfering."
"Still sounds too good to be true."
"Well, if you die in the next year, your contract is still binding, and your soul goes to hell. But, if you survive and run my errands, your contract is done. Your soul is your own again."
Bela didn't reply. She desperately wanted this to be true; she had spent the better part of nine years making herself a valuable asset so someone might offer her a deal just like this one.
"Don't forget, this year's a leap year," Crowley added. "So I'm also screwing you out of a day on top of it all."
She smiled. "I want to see that in writing. All of it."
"Oh, I do love this part."
Men of Letters Bunker. May 16, 2008.
"If it was yesterday, than the scrappy Miss Talbot would still be in the palm of my hand!" Crowley shouted.
"She still is," Cas said.
"No, not since midnight last night," Dean replied.
"Can't we just lie to her?" Cas asked.
Sam shrugged.
"Except I already destroyed her contract. And I'm not a demon anymore!"
"I'll go," Cas said. "You've not met with her since she signed on with you. It would be odd for you to do so now."
"So, you contact Bela and tell her to do whatever it is you were thinking of," Sam said. "Cas can collect."
"Collect what?" Dean asked. "It's not like Bela can just pull a soul out of hell."
"No, no, there's a spell," Crowley said.
"Sonovabitch!" Dean said. "A spell? There's a spell?"
"There isn't one," Sam said. "Trust me, we looked."
"The spell calls innocent souls from Hell. They get close to the surface," Crowley said. "It's the closet thing I've got to saving one."
"Huh, so the spell gets the souls closer to us," Dean said. "All we have to do catch and release."
"What about this one?" Crowley pointed to Castiel. "Doesn't he have powers?"
"No, I don't," Cas replied.
Union, Kentucky. February 22, 2007.
Dean parked the junker they stole outside a field.
"Where is this?" Cas asked.
"You'll see."
They walked quickly across the field. Cas felt an odd sensation, like he had been here before. They stopped a few feet from a tree.
"Go on," Dean said, pushing him toward it.
Castiel walked over to it and stood in front of the magnificent tree, feeling true awe in his mortal body for the first time. He realized then why Dean recruited him for this mission and why they came here without Sam.
"Trust me," Dean said.
"This is why you brought me here?" Cas asked. "You gave me your word - your word, Dean - that this was about finishing our work, saving the world."
"This is our ace in the hole, Cas. Metatron doesn't know about it," Dean replied. "That is what this mission is about!"
Cas replied, "No, this isn't about the fight. This is about your fear. You can't ask me to do this."
And so the two soldiers faced one another, all their history building the walls between them as the Apocalypse came closer.
Men of Letters Bunker. May 16, 2008.
Crowley said, "You had powers yesterday. Don't act like you didn't!"
"Those were not mine."
"Well, they weren't a demon's powers, either!"
"No, they weren't."
"Can it, both of you!" Dean shouted.
Sam laughed.
"What's funny?" Crowley asked.
"We don't need a supernatural assist on this one," Sam said. "Set up the collection with Bela, Dean and I have the rest."
Crowley got uncomfortably close to Sam. "Do. Not. Leash. A. Reaper. Do you understand me?"
"We won't," Sam said.
"You can't bargain with them, either," Crowley said. "Bloody nobs, the lot of them."
"We've got something better than a reaper," Sam explained. "With your spell, we bring the souls to the door. All we gotta do is open it, and we've got what we need to make that happen."
"What's that?"
"A key," Sam replied simply.
Next Chapter: >>>
Chapter Six: Death and Pain and Sin
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Chapter Four: Night Again
Subtitle: Door to Dreams
Author: dracox-serdriel
There was a fire burning on earth.
It had started in the dead of night, in the hours just past midnight. Humans had gathered wood with their bare hands. Sweat lead to splinters, and splinters lead to blood. Blood and sweat fed each tongue of flame.
Men of Letters Bunker. May 16, 2008.
Sam felt like hell. His body ached. His mind raced. Dean told him that they'd already killed Lilith. As the final seal, her death was one of those paradox things. That meant that they didn't have much time.
And Crowley would just not shut up.
Dean and Cas returned.
"You!" Crowley said. "You failed to mention that my part in this would make me human!"
"They failed to tell me that as well," Cas replied.
"Focus, people. Sam, what went wrong?"
"Nothing. He's human," Sam said, pointing a thumb at Crowley. "Trust me. He's done nothing but bitch since."
"So you finished the last trial, you said the spell, and nothing happened?"
"No, things happened," Sam said. "I feel worse than ever. The Cure worked, but that's it. The Gates aren't closed."
"How do you know?" Crowley asked. "Maybe they are. It's not like we'd have any way to know!"
"We would know," Cas replied.
"Also, got a line from a contact of dad's out west," Dean said. "Several demon attacks in California as of this morning."
Cas said, "I think the problem is you haven't done the first two trials."
"Yes, I have!"
"Not yet," Cas explained. "Technically, you don't do them until two thousand and thirteen. That's probably why Metatron was so willing to send us back in time."
"That makes sense, but it also means we're screwed," Dean said. "We've only got a day or two to get our shit together. Crowley, we need to get in contact with a rouge reaper."
"Rough reaper?" Crowley repeated in disbelief. "Please."
"You knew where they were in the future, so I assume you know where they are now," Dean insisted.
Cas said, "That was after the Apocalypse fell apart. Between the Civil War in Heaven and Purgatory being opened up, reapers began to rebel."
"What is this one on about?" Crowley asked. "You're mad, the lot of you!"
"Look, as of right now, we only have a few days to do the first two trials," Dean said. "One isn't a big deal, killing a hellhound and bathing in its blood."
"Not a big deal?" Crowley said incredulously. "You can't even see them!"
"Relax," Sam said. "The other trial is gonna be harder."
"What bloody idiotic thing could that be?!"
"Freeing an innocent soul from hell," Cas said casually. "Which was difficult even with a reaper's help."
"Oh, this is... how on earth did I get stuck with you lot?"
"You're already screwed," Dean said. "So get on board and help us, or get ready for round two in hell."
"And you couldn't mention any of this yesterday?" Crowley demanded.
Dean asked, "Why would yesterday make a difference?"
New York, New York. May 15, 2007.
Bela Talbot pulled up in a ridiculous car, dressed to the nines. She handed her keys to the valet and strolled into Elements, a high-end restaurant in the middle of Manhattan.
"Miss Talbot?" the man behind the front desk said. "Mister Crowley is waiting for you."
He led her to a table on a platform overlooking the rest of the restaurant.
"Mr. Crowley?" she asked.
"Miss Bela Talbot," he said. "Please, sit."
"I reviewed your offer," Bela said. "Sounds too good to be true."
"Does it?"
"I've only a year left before my contract comes due, and now I have a white knight swooping in."
"Hardly," he said. "I am in dire need, otherwise this offer wouldn't be on the table to begin with."
"And you're willing to forgive my debt if I do this?"
"Forgiveness isn't in my nature. No, darling, this is business. I need a cold-hearted bitch who can find me rare items without asking a lot of stupid questions or attracting unnecessary attention."
"You've had experience with this, I take it."
"Demons tend to lack subtlety," Crowley said. "The smart ones do their best to stay out of this line of work. So, are you interested?"
"Why me?"
"You?" Crowley asked. "Well, you've come highly recommended when it comes to acquiring unique objects, love. You've pissed off the right people, but you're still alive. I like that. Finding, coercing, pilfering."
"Still sounds too good to be true."
"Well, if you die in the next year, your contract is still binding, and your soul goes to hell. But, if you survive and run my errands, your contract is done. Your soul is your own again."
Bela didn't reply. She desperately wanted this to be true; she had spent the better part of nine years making herself a valuable asset so someone might offer her a deal just like this one.
"Don't forget, this year's a leap year," Crowley added. "So I'm also screwing you out of a day on top of it all."
She smiled. "I want to see that in writing. All of it."
"Oh, I do love this part."
Men of Letters Bunker. May 16, 2008.
"If it was yesterday, than the scrappy Miss Talbot would still be in the palm of my hand!" Crowley shouted.
"She still is," Cas said.
"No, not since midnight last night," Dean replied.
"Can't we just lie to her?" Cas asked.
Sam shrugged.
"Except I already destroyed her contract. And I'm not a demon anymore!"
"I'll go," Cas said. "You've not met with her since she signed on with you. It would be odd for you to do so now."
"So, you contact Bela and tell her to do whatever it is you were thinking of," Sam said. "Cas can collect."
"Collect what?" Dean asked. "It's not like Bela can just pull a soul out of hell."
"No, no, there's a spell," Crowley said.
"Sonovabitch!" Dean said. "A spell? There's a spell?"
"There isn't one," Sam said. "Trust me, we looked."
"The spell calls innocent souls from Hell. They get close to the surface," Crowley said. "It's the closet thing I've got to saving one."
"Huh, so the spell gets the souls closer to us," Dean said. "All we have to do catch and release."
"What about this one?" Crowley pointed to Castiel. "Doesn't he have powers?"
"No, I don't," Cas replied.
Union, Kentucky. February 22, 2007.
Dean parked the junker they stole outside a field.
"Where is this?" Cas asked.
"You'll see."
They walked quickly across the field. Cas felt an odd sensation, like he had been here before. They stopped a few feet from a tree.
"Go on," Dean said, pushing him toward it.
Castiel walked over to it and stood in front of the magnificent tree, feeling true awe in his mortal body for the first time. He realized then why Dean recruited him for this mission and why they came here without Sam.
"Trust me," Dean said.
"This is why you brought me here?" Cas asked. "You gave me your word - your word, Dean - that this was about finishing our work, saving the world."
"This is our ace in the hole, Cas. Metatron doesn't know about it," Dean replied. "That is what this mission is about!"
Cas replied, "No, this isn't about the fight. This is about your fear. You can't ask me to do this."
And so the two soldiers faced one another, all their history building the walls between them as the Apocalypse came closer.
Men of Letters Bunker. May 16, 2008.
Crowley said, "You had powers yesterday. Don't act like you didn't!"
"Those were not mine."
"Well, they weren't a demon's powers, either!"
"No, they weren't."
"Can it, both of you!" Dean shouted.
Sam laughed.
"What's funny?" Crowley asked.
"We don't need a supernatural assist on this one," Sam said. "Set up the collection with Bela, Dean and I have the rest."
Crowley got uncomfortably close to Sam. "Do. Not. Leash. A. Reaper. Do you understand me?"
"We won't," Sam said.
"You can't bargain with them, either," Crowley said. "Bloody nobs, the lot of them."
"We've got something better than a reaper," Sam explained. "With your spell, we bring the souls to the door. All we gotta do is open it, and we've got what we need to make that happen."
"What's that?"
"A key," Sam replied simply.
Next Chapter: >>>
Chapter Six: Death and Pain and Sin
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Chapter Four: Night Again