A Supernatural Musing 2/?
Title: A Supernatural Musing
Topic: Supernatural
Genre: Het, Friendship, Adventure, Horror, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, OFC
Pairings: That would be spoilers ;-)
Beta: jooles34
Summary: The Winchester brothers investigate a few supernatural deaths, and quickly discover that there is more to them than meets the eye. Even their guardian Angel, Castiel, is unable to help them, only point them in the right direction. The boys follow that path, and soon find out that there are things more ancient than Heaven, more evil than the Devil, and that the old saying "Women are complicated" barely scratches the surface.
Spoilers: It's set sometime during Season 6, between episodes "Unforgiven" and "Mannequin 3: The Reckoning." Everything before that is fair game for spoilers.
Author's Note: This didn't really get that good of a reception, but I'm going to continue to post it. Enjoy!
Previous Chapter
The first thing both of them realized was how damn hot it was. All the moisture in their mouths and bodies felt like it had been sucked out in a vacuum. The sun beat down on them relentlessly, and Sam felt small beads of sweat already rolling down his back. The three layers of shirts they were wearing were suddenly overbearingly hot, and their jeans stuck to their legs like a scorching second skin.
Sam was the first one to see the building. It was huge, and almost completely blended in with the sand-colored scenery. It was a perfect cube, with no doors or windows. That was strange, until Sam remembered that this was an Angel facility, and that they didn’t need doors or windows. “Dean…”
“I see it, Sammy.”
Cas tilted his head slightly sideways as he stared at them. He blinked, and a slight frown marred his features. “I’ll be right back.”
He disappeared with the soft fluttering of large wings, and the two brothers were left there on their own devices. Dean pulled out his cell phone and squinted as he tried to view the screen. “No signal.”
“Same here.” Sam said, and put his cell-phone back in his pocket. “Where the hell are we?”
“Not Hell. Israel.” Cas said, and the two jumped, turning around. The sand had masked his reappearance. “Holy land of God.”
“Thanks for the history lesson, but why are we here?” Dean asked.
“You wanted to meet someone who can tell you about those symbols.” Cas nodded towards the building in front of them. “She’s in there. I took out the guards.”
“She - “ Dean’s question was cut off as the Angel touched them both on the forehead once again.
When they opened their eyes, no longer was the unforgiving sun attacking them. Instead, their eyes were being assaulted by a different kind of light.
They were inside of a huge, white room. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all the same unending color. The corners of the room were swallowed by the blinding blankness.
“What the - ” Dean stopped midsentence. His eyes adjusting, he caught sight of something in the middle of the room. Or, more accurately, someone.
She sat Indian style in the exact middle of the room. She almost blended in, her white clothing matching the walls perfectly. The entire outfit looked like a pair of scrubs that were at least two sizes too big. Her hair was that same white color as wall, and was so long that is disappeared behind her back and pooled behind her, a dead lump on the floor. Her skin was what caused Dean’s eyes to find her; it was a few shades darker than the walls, like the skin of an albino. All he could see were her hands, feet, and face; the clothing covered the rest. Her fingers were grasping onto her knees, and her eyes remained closed, her lashes white as her hair. Her pale lips moved in an unheard prayer. At the sound of Dean’s voice, her eyes wrenched open, her pupils as small as pinpricks. They were a startling green color, and Dean found himself comparing them to Emeralds. She stared at him, eyes narrowing into slits. They jumped to Castiel, and something inside of her went off like an alarm. She turned into a ball of action, pushing off from the floor faster than humanly possible, her hands outstretched. Undecipherable words spilled from her lips as she attacked, a string of syllables meshed together in unforgivable ways. Castiel stood there patiently, and as she came within an inch of his throat, he reached out and gently tapped her on the forehead with those two magic fingers of his. She dropped to the ground with a thud and curled into a fetal ball, her mouth open in a scream as her hands clawed at her head.
“What’d you do?” Sam asked, panicked as he watched.
“I placed the general happenings of the past five-thousand years in her brain.” Castiel said calmly. “I’d have filled in the previous thousand, but that was before my time.”
“That much information in one dump will kill her!” Sam yelled, falling to the ground and trying to play doctor. He couldn’t do much, since it wasn’t a physical injury, and settled for grabbing her shoulders and pinning her down so that she didn’t harm herself while having the fits.
She was strong, but extremely malnourished and underfed. Her body was little more than bones and skin. Because of this, Sam didn’t have a hard time keeping her still. However, he felt that if she had been in a decent condition, he would be the one pinned on the floor, unable to move.
Something that Castiel said didn’t make sense, and Dean glanced at the Angel. “Wait…that means she’s six thousand years old.”
“Five thousand nine hundred and twenty six, approximately.” Cas replied, turning back to stare at her. His hands rested nonchalantly in his pockets, and he peered at her with a curious gaze that lacked any kind of worry or care. “This won’t kill her, Sam. We’ve tried. Nothing works.”
It was Sam’s turn to look at Cas in confusion. “What…like she’s immortal? What’s keeping her alive?”
Castiel shrugged; it was such a foreign movement for his body to make that it was awkward. “Yes. We don’t know for sure what’s keeping her alive, but we believe that her God still exists.”
Sam opened his mouth to question the Angel even more, but the body under his hands had stopped convulsing. He turned his attention to her. This time, when her eyes opened, her pupils were at the normal dilation, the piercing green not as strong as before. Her eyes connected with his, and for a moment they didn’t move. She breathed slowly and steadily. Then her eyes crinkled, and a soft smile tinged the edge of her lips. “You’re not an Angel.”
Dean laughed. The sound startled her and she twisted from Sam’s grasp. She stumbled to her feet, swaying unsteadily as she stared at the two men. She was leaning forward, her white hair all in the way. She zeroed in on Castiel, and her innocent facial features turned nasty.
“Son-of-a-bitch.” She spat, and advanced on the Angel, her tongue moving faster than her steps. “Jack-ass…ignorant mother fucker…dipshit…” Between the English expletives were long strings of her own language. She reached Castiel and her arms went into motion, punching and clawing at the Angel, the words never stopping. Sam pushed up off the ground and joined his brother, who was curiously watching the event in front of him explode.
“You know what the hell is going on?”
Sam pressed his lips together, and slipped his hands into his pockets. “I think that Castiel gave her a language filter that translates her words into English. Like a Babel fish.”
Dean chuckled and clapped in good nature. “I like this chick. And as a side note, you’re such a geek. Hitchhikers? If you want to go over my head, quote that short diaper-wearing man.”
“Gandhi?”
“Yeah, him - Shh! It’s getting good.” Dean cut Sam off.
The woman in white swung her fist at Cas, and the Angel grabbed her wrist, twisting her arm behind her swiftly. She cried out and tried to wiggle out of it, but his grip held her fast. She was breathing hard, and her skinny arm looked as if it was about to break if he twisted it any longer.
“Done?” Castiel asked.
“I’ll be done when you’re…head is on the floor.” She spat, and the Angel pushed her off of him. She stumbled, her feet tripping over each other. She landed face on the floor, and when she tried to stand back up, she was stopped by the shadow of the man casting over her.
“The only reason I came here was for you to identify some symbols.” Castiel motioned to Sam, and the brother jerked into action, pulling his cell phone out and scrolling to the photos holding the image of the symbols in question. Her eyes widened as Sam held out the small device, and she shrunk away.
“Idiot.” Dean mumbled as Sam pulled the cell phone back. He grabbed a pen out of his jacket pocket and drew the symbol on his hand instead. Of course she would be scared of a cell phone - she had been locked up in this hell for almost six-thousand years. He held his hand out, and this time she walked unsteadily towards him. Her gentle hands took his hand, holding it like an egg that would break at a single rough touch.
“That was found on a man’s body after he died - his body was purified, and there are no entrance or exit wounds; no known cause of death. Cas here said it might be your language. Recognize it?” Sam explained.
She ran her fingers slowly down his palm, and that was when Sam noticed the tattoos. They looked similar to the ones on the victims, only they were different symbols. She had them under each of her fingernails, and he caught a glimpse of one sketched into her palm.
“I’ll need a closer look.” She said finally, letting go of his hand. Sam frowned, and Cas let out a sound of disapproval.
“I’m not allowed to let you out - you know that. You haven’t served your sentence yet. That drawing will have to be enough.”
“Hey, Cas. Exactly how long is her sentence? I mean, if she’s got a few weeks left, we can wait. We’ve got two months down time here…” Dean drifted off.
Castiel turned his head away. The woman noticed this and rolled her eyes. “If your beloved Angel won’t answer, then I will. Eternity.”
“You mean life.” Dean corrected, but she shook her head.
“Same thing.”
The brothers exchanged a look. “So she really is immortal - you really are immortal?” Sam turned to face her, and she nodded.
“The symbols.” Cas said briskly.
The woman shrugged and sat on the ground, the effort of standing for such a long period of time clearly exhausting her. Sam wondered when the last time she had gotten fed was. He felt like it was before she had been locked in this nightmare. “I can’t help you unless I see the bodies. I have to feel them; my language isn’t just empty ink scratched onto a parchment. A special coloring must be used to have the full effect, and the emotions of the person who write it are trapped inside. Of course, you Angel’s don’t know what those are.”
Dean stepped forward, trying to cut through the obvious tension in the room. “Look, Cas. We need her. You said yourself that she was the only one who can read these symbols, and she’s offering to help. Can’t you request a temporary release or something?”
“It’s not that simple - she’s dangerous. Heaven doesn’t want her walking around freely.” Cas said.
“Heaven as in God, or heaven as in Angels?” Dean asked, and Cas didn’t answer.
“People will continue to die, and the Angels will have the power to stop it. But they don’t care. When your God gave them wings and a halo, he forgot their souls.” The woman spat.
“Cas.” Both Sam and Dean turned to the Angel.
“I understand that you’ve got important business to attend to and everything, but this is our important business, and if you don’t let us have her, we’re breaking her out of here. I’d like to see you try and stop us.” Dean got up in the Angel’s face, jaw jutting out in defiance. Cas didn’t reply for a moment, then moved quicker than the human eye could see. His one hand wrapped around her wrist, while the other grabbed Dean’s. They both cried out as a searing hot pain shot up their arm. When Castiel let go, there was an Enokian symbol in place of his fingers.
“She can’t move more than ten yards away from you, or she’s transported right back to your side. If it’s one hundred yards, then she’s transported back here.” He turned, his time placing his full hand on her chest. Another scream, this time only from her. She stumbled back, falling onto the floor.
“Angels nor Demons can locate you. Don’t make me reverse it.” Castiel glared at the woman. Then he turned to the brothers. “I’m giving you until the next attack. Dawn of July sixteenth, I’m bringing her back.”
He reached out then, grabbing all three of them. When Sam and Dean opened their eyes, they found themselves back in their hotel room, with their extra passenger curled up on Sam’s bed, eyes wide in fear and wonder.
Dean sighed. “At least she’s hot.” He mumbled to himself. Next Chapter
Topic: Supernatural
Genre: Het, Friendship, Adventure, Horror, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, OFC
Pairings: That would be spoilers ;-)
Beta: jooles34
Summary: The Winchester brothers investigate a few supernatural deaths, and quickly discover that there is more to them than meets the eye. Even their guardian Angel, Castiel, is unable to help them, only point them in the right direction. The boys follow that path, and soon find out that there are things more ancient than Heaven, more evil than the Devil, and that the old saying "Women are complicated" barely scratches the surface.
Spoilers: It's set sometime during Season 6, between episodes "Unforgiven" and "Mannequin 3: The Reckoning." Everything before that is fair game for spoilers.
Author's Note: This didn't really get that good of a reception, but I'm going to continue to post it. Enjoy!
Previous Chapter
The first thing both of them realized was how damn hot it was. All the moisture in their mouths and bodies felt like it had been sucked out in a vacuum. The sun beat down on them relentlessly, and Sam felt small beads of sweat already rolling down his back. The three layers of shirts they were wearing were suddenly overbearingly hot, and their jeans stuck to their legs like a scorching second skin.
Sam was the first one to see the building. It was huge, and almost completely blended in with the sand-colored scenery. It was a perfect cube, with no doors or windows. That was strange, until Sam remembered that this was an Angel facility, and that they didn’t need doors or windows. “Dean…”
“I see it, Sammy.”
Cas tilted his head slightly sideways as he stared at them. He blinked, and a slight frown marred his features. “I’ll be right back.”
He disappeared with the soft fluttering of large wings, and the two brothers were left there on their own devices. Dean pulled out his cell phone and squinted as he tried to view the screen. “No signal.”
“Same here.” Sam said, and put his cell-phone back in his pocket. “Where the hell are we?”
“Not Hell. Israel.” Cas said, and the two jumped, turning around. The sand had masked his reappearance. “Holy land of God.”
“Thanks for the history lesson, but why are we here?” Dean asked.
“You wanted to meet someone who can tell you about those symbols.” Cas nodded towards the building in front of them. “She’s in there. I took out the guards.”
“She - “ Dean’s question was cut off as the Angel touched them both on the forehead once again.
When they opened their eyes, no longer was the unforgiving sun attacking them. Instead, their eyes were being assaulted by a different kind of light.
They were inside of a huge, white room. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all the same unending color. The corners of the room were swallowed by the blinding blankness.
“What the - ” Dean stopped midsentence. His eyes adjusting, he caught sight of something in the middle of the room. Or, more accurately, someone.
She sat Indian style in the exact middle of the room. She almost blended in, her white clothing matching the walls perfectly. The entire outfit looked like a pair of scrubs that were at least two sizes too big. Her hair was that same white color as wall, and was so long that is disappeared behind her back and pooled behind her, a dead lump on the floor. Her skin was what caused Dean’s eyes to find her; it was a few shades darker than the walls, like the skin of an albino. All he could see were her hands, feet, and face; the clothing covered the rest. Her fingers were grasping onto her knees, and her eyes remained closed, her lashes white as her hair. Her pale lips moved in an unheard prayer. At the sound of Dean’s voice, her eyes wrenched open, her pupils as small as pinpricks. They were a startling green color, and Dean found himself comparing them to Emeralds. She stared at him, eyes narrowing into slits. They jumped to Castiel, and something inside of her went off like an alarm. She turned into a ball of action, pushing off from the floor faster than humanly possible, her hands outstretched. Undecipherable words spilled from her lips as she attacked, a string of syllables meshed together in unforgivable ways. Castiel stood there patiently, and as she came within an inch of his throat, he reached out and gently tapped her on the forehead with those two magic fingers of his. She dropped to the ground with a thud and curled into a fetal ball, her mouth open in a scream as her hands clawed at her head.
“What’d you do?” Sam asked, panicked as he watched.
“I placed the general happenings of the past five-thousand years in her brain.” Castiel said calmly. “I’d have filled in the previous thousand, but that was before my time.”
“That much information in one dump will kill her!” Sam yelled, falling to the ground and trying to play doctor. He couldn’t do much, since it wasn’t a physical injury, and settled for grabbing her shoulders and pinning her down so that she didn’t harm herself while having the fits.
She was strong, but extremely malnourished and underfed. Her body was little more than bones and skin. Because of this, Sam didn’t have a hard time keeping her still. However, he felt that if she had been in a decent condition, he would be the one pinned on the floor, unable to move.
Something that Castiel said didn’t make sense, and Dean glanced at the Angel. “Wait…that means she’s six thousand years old.”
“Five thousand nine hundred and twenty six, approximately.” Cas replied, turning back to stare at her. His hands rested nonchalantly in his pockets, and he peered at her with a curious gaze that lacked any kind of worry or care. “This won’t kill her, Sam. We’ve tried. Nothing works.”
It was Sam’s turn to look at Cas in confusion. “What…like she’s immortal? What’s keeping her alive?”
Castiel shrugged; it was such a foreign movement for his body to make that it was awkward. “Yes. We don’t know for sure what’s keeping her alive, but we believe that her God still exists.”
Sam opened his mouth to question the Angel even more, but the body under his hands had stopped convulsing. He turned his attention to her. This time, when her eyes opened, her pupils were at the normal dilation, the piercing green not as strong as before. Her eyes connected with his, and for a moment they didn’t move. She breathed slowly and steadily. Then her eyes crinkled, and a soft smile tinged the edge of her lips. “You’re not an Angel.”
Dean laughed. The sound startled her and she twisted from Sam’s grasp. She stumbled to her feet, swaying unsteadily as she stared at the two men. She was leaning forward, her white hair all in the way. She zeroed in on Castiel, and her innocent facial features turned nasty.
“Son-of-a-bitch.” She spat, and advanced on the Angel, her tongue moving faster than her steps. “Jack-ass…ignorant mother fucker…dipshit…” Between the English expletives were long strings of her own language. She reached Castiel and her arms went into motion, punching and clawing at the Angel, the words never stopping. Sam pushed up off the ground and joined his brother, who was curiously watching the event in front of him explode.
“You know what the hell is going on?”
Sam pressed his lips together, and slipped his hands into his pockets. “I think that Castiel gave her a language filter that translates her words into English. Like a Babel fish.”
Dean chuckled and clapped in good nature. “I like this chick. And as a side note, you’re such a geek. Hitchhikers? If you want to go over my head, quote that short diaper-wearing man.”
“Gandhi?”
“Yeah, him - Shh! It’s getting good.” Dean cut Sam off.
The woman in white swung her fist at Cas, and the Angel grabbed her wrist, twisting her arm behind her swiftly. She cried out and tried to wiggle out of it, but his grip held her fast. She was breathing hard, and her skinny arm looked as if it was about to break if he twisted it any longer.
“Done?” Castiel asked.
“I’ll be done when you’re…head is on the floor.” She spat, and the Angel pushed her off of him. She stumbled, her feet tripping over each other. She landed face on the floor, and when she tried to stand back up, she was stopped by the shadow of the man casting over her.
“The only reason I came here was for you to identify some symbols.” Castiel motioned to Sam, and the brother jerked into action, pulling his cell phone out and scrolling to the photos holding the image of the symbols in question. Her eyes widened as Sam held out the small device, and she shrunk away.
“Idiot.” Dean mumbled as Sam pulled the cell phone back. He grabbed a pen out of his jacket pocket and drew the symbol on his hand instead. Of course she would be scared of a cell phone - she had been locked up in this hell for almost six-thousand years. He held his hand out, and this time she walked unsteadily towards him. Her gentle hands took his hand, holding it like an egg that would break at a single rough touch.
“That was found on a man’s body after he died - his body was purified, and there are no entrance or exit wounds; no known cause of death. Cas here said it might be your language. Recognize it?” Sam explained.
She ran her fingers slowly down his palm, and that was when Sam noticed the tattoos. They looked similar to the ones on the victims, only they were different symbols. She had them under each of her fingernails, and he caught a glimpse of one sketched into her palm.
“I’ll need a closer look.” She said finally, letting go of his hand. Sam frowned, and Cas let out a sound of disapproval.
“I’m not allowed to let you out - you know that. You haven’t served your sentence yet. That drawing will have to be enough.”
“Hey, Cas. Exactly how long is her sentence? I mean, if she’s got a few weeks left, we can wait. We’ve got two months down time here…” Dean drifted off.
Castiel turned his head away. The woman noticed this and rolled her eyes. “If your beloved Angel won’t answer, then I will. Eternity.”
“You mean life.” Dean corrected, but she shook her head.
“Same thing.”
The brothers exchanged a look. “So she really is immortal - you really are immortal?” Sam turned to face her, and she nodded.
“The symbols.” Cas said briskly.
The woman shrugged and sat on the ground, the effort of standing for such a long period of time clearly exhausting her. Sam wondered when the last time she had gotten fed was. He felt like it was before she had been locked in this nightmare. “I can’t help you unless I see the bodies. I have to feel them; my language isn’t just empty ink scratched onto a parchment. A special coloring must be used to have the full effect, and the emotions of the person who write it are trapped inside. Of course, you Angel’s don’t know what those are.”
Dean stepped forward, trying to cut through the obvious tension in the room. “Look, Cas. We need her. You said yourself that she was the only one who can read these symbols, and she’s offering to help. Can’t you request a temporary release or something?”
“It’s not that simple - she’s dangerous. Heaven doesn’t want her walking around freely.” Cas said.
“Heaven as in God, or heaven as in Angels?” Dean asked, and Cas didn’t answer.
“People will continue to die, and the Angels will have the power to stop it. But they don’t care. When your God gave them wings and a halo, he forgot their souls.” The woman spat.
“Cas.” Both Sam and Dean turned to the Angel.
“I understand that you’ve got important business to attend to and everything, but this is our important business, and if you don’t let us have her, we’re breaking her out of here. I’d like to see you try and stop us.” Dean got up in the Angel’s face, jaw jutting out in defiance. Cas didn’t reply for a moment, then moved quicker than the human eye could see. His one hand wrapped around her wrist, while the other grabbed Dean’s. They both cried out as a searing hot pain shot up their arm. When Castiel let go, there was an Enokian symbol in place of his fingers.
“She can’t move more than ten yards away from you, or she’s transported right back to your side. If it’s one hundred yards, then she’s transported back here.” He turned, his time placing his full hand on her chest. Another scream, this time only from her. She stumbled back, falling onto the floor.
“Angels nor Demons can locate you. Don’t make me reverse it.” Castiel glared at the woman. Then he turned to the brothers. “I’m giving you until the next attack. Dawn of July sixteenth, I’m bringing her back.”
He reached out then, grabbing all three of them. When Sam and Dean opened their eyes, they found themselves back in their hotel room, with their extra passenger curled up on Sam’s bed, eyes wide in fear and wonder.
Dean sighed. “At least she’s hot.” He mumbled to himself. Next Chapter