spnxdf: Lost Sons Chapter 4
SPNxDF: Lost Sons
Chapter 4
wc: 2,500
Bobby sighed as he slammed the phone back down on the receiver. He wheeled around to the rest of his kitchen and found Dean setting another duffel alongside Sam’s and a few others.
“I checked out your source from that Detective McBain in New York,” the grizzled hunter informed them. “The cop Murphy you were told about in that little network is part of the Chicago PD’s Special Investigations unit. Her name is Karrin.”
“Special Investigations?” Dean said, checking himself for his usual collection of knives, holy water, keys, and lock picks. He stopped for a moment and stared at Bobby, hard. “Don’t tell me someone in law enforcement finally decided they make up a police force for our crap.”
“Looks like it.” Bobby said as he wheeled up to the kitchen table. Castiel sat to his left, dressed in a cleaned suit and trench coat…but his face an ugly mass of cuts and bruises. He was picking at a bowl of honey nut cheerios and sipping from a glass of milk, neither of which made the wounded angel happy. Bobby had threatened once already that afternoon that if the rogue Host didn’t eat something on behalf of his vessel, the wheelchair bound hunter was going to ram it down his throat.
Sam came stomping through the house, the last of their luggage packed and ready. He settled the duffel on top of the stack waiting by the door. “So we are good with our contact?”
“Not yet.” Bobby said. “Murphy was out of her office. Apparently she had to drop in on a consultant.” He picked at the rough finish of his kitchen table with a fingernail. “You boys seen the news yet?”
There was a long pause in which both brothers failed to answer. But it was really all that the older hunter needed to hear.
“They just released the news about Carthage.” He explained. “The story’s been breaking while you were packing.”
“I’m surprised it took them that long to find out.” Dean said quietly, reaching into Castiel’s bowl and helping the angel eat the rest of his meal. Castiel looked up at him for a moment and then cast his eyes away. Guilt hung over him like a shroud and had been there ever since he woke up and made it clear that he was back in control of Jimmy’s body. He drank the remainder of his milk and stood up stiffly.
Sam began to heave duffels off the floor. He passed some off to Dean and started for the door before looking back. “You okay with us taking off?” He said.
“Boy, I’ve had plenty of Thanksgivings without your sorry asses here.” Bobby snapped. “Stop your fretting and get out of my house!”
The younger Winchester nodded slowly and proceeded outside, Dean and his wounded angel in tow. They descended the wooden ramp and walked out to the rumbling Impala, idling in the cold junkyard and puffing exhaust into the chilled air.
“Hey!” Bobby called from the door. The three men turned to look back.
“You call me when you get to Chicago and keep me posted.” The hunter ordered. “I’ll track down this Murphy and get her to meet you as soon as I can.” He huffed a breath, letting it cloud in front of him as he scanned the salvage yard coated in a veil of white. He pinned his gaze on the Winchesters after a moment.
“I don’t care what you idjits do as long as you don’t get yourselves killed. And be back here for Christmas.” Bobby finally ground out.
“Really?” Dean asked, his lip twitching with a smirk. “Aw Bobby, I’m sure you’ve had enough those by yourself you don’t need us around.”
“Don’t make me repeat myself boy.” Bobby said and wheeled back into the house to push the door shut. “I want your asses back here by Christmas, end of the world or no.” And with a bang, the hunter abandoned them to the South Dakota winter.
Dean glanced at his brother in surprise before motioning for Castiel to stagger on towards the Impala and finish loading up.
----
“Thirteen thousand people are dead or missing?” Bob’s teeth clacked together, his eye lights little points deep within his skull. “Um…Harry…”
The wizard looked up from his workbench, which was littered with processed pictures, a half dozen books, and several notebooks. He cast his gaze to a wooden shelf coated with the stubs of multicolored wax candles. Nestled among several well-used harlequin novels was a human skull, eyes glowing with warm orange light like candle flame. “Do you know what did this Bob?” Harry asked.
The skull actually began to chatter in a way similar to fear. “I hear Antarctica is nice this time of year. You feel like relocating boss?”
“Bob.” Harry ground out. “I don’t have time for this. Do you know what would need a human sacrifice of over ten thousand women and children?”
“Harry.” The skull stopped shaking. “Harry, you don’t want to get into this. It’s best we just quietly pack our bags and run for the hills. Take Molly with you. Or Murphy. Murphy would be good. You could repopulate the earth. Bring Justine along too.”
Dresden shot up from his chair, his first hitting the table. “Bob! I asked you a question! Answer it!”
The skull actually managed to simulate swallowing in nervousness, something Harry hadn’t time to figure out how the spirit managed to that pull off without a tongue or throat.
“Harry, something this big…it’s bad. Whatever did this, who ever was crazy enough to do this…did it for a reason. Snuffing out a human life can be a powerful kick for any spell.” Bob said quietly. “That…that many though…sounds like it was a summoning ritual. For something big.”
The phone rang upstairs, bringing their conversation to a halt. Harry worked his jaw in thought before reached out for the skull on its wax-covered shelf and setting it on the table amid the evidence.
“You look this over. I’m going to see who wants to talk to me now.” Harry ordered, weaving his way through the tight space towards the folding ladder leading back upstairs from the sub basement.
He snatched the wailing phone off the receiver. “Dresden.”
“I didn’t know if it was safe to contact you yet.” The woman on the other end said. “I knew you had been taken by the Council, I only just heard from my sources in Chicago that you were alone.”
Harry took a short breath, stilling the swell of emotions filling his chest. “Elaine.”
“Harry, what is going on?” Elaine demanded.
“I’m not sure.” He replied. “Are you calling about what happened in Carthage?”
There was a pause. “People are scared Harry. I’m hearing all sorts of things from the Paranet.”
“It is all probably the same things that I’m getting from the other end.” Harry sighed, sweeping his kitchen for dirty dishes. He reached into the cupboard under the sink and began to fill Mouse and Mister’s dishes. “Something went and wiped out a whole town. The place is just covered in magical energies. The Wardens are still trying to figure out what kind of magic it was. Bob thinks it’s a summoning ritual.”
“If those who died were the catalyst for the spell, it was black magic.” Elaine declared.
“I agree.” The wizard set the dishes out, just as Mister appeared from atop the bookshelf and Mouse ambled around the small apartment from where he slept against the front door. “There was other stuff.”
“What other stuff?”
“Did we have anyone in the Paranet in or around Carthage?”
Elaine was silent for a moment. Harry heard the rustling of papers and the creaking of a chair. “The closest psychic in the area was a woman named Missouri in Lawrence, Kansas. She isn’t a member of the Paranet, but she is spoken highly of by others who are.”
Harry whistled. “Wow, you keep track of the non members too?”
“Just a few important ones.” Elaine said. He could hear the smile that was creeping across her face. “But why do you want to know about there being anyone in Carthage?”
“We found a car, belonged to an Ellen Harvelle from Nebraska,” he informed. “The whole thing was covered in protection wards, armed to the teeth with everything someone who deals regularly with the supernatural. The back seat had a storage compartment in it loaded up with books we’d own.”
“Harvelle. Nebraska.” More papers rustled and several file cabinets clicked open and banged shut. “I know I heard something about a Harvelle in Nebraska. Another one of those ‘unofficial’ things.” Elaine sighed a little. “I’ll look around some more but I don’t think I’m going to fine anything right off.”
Harry fished a pencil out of a mason jar by the phone and turned up the back of a used envelope. “Could I get that psychic’s name from Lawrence?”
“Sure.” She recited off a number and address. After a moment Elaine piped up. “Harry?”
“Yeah?”
Elaine stalled for a few more moments. “Be careful,” she finally said and hung up.
----
The white elephant wearing the trench coat in the Impala had finally gotten too big to ignore as they tore across Iowa. Dean flicked his eyes up to the rearview, finding Castiel’s borrowed blue eyes staring back at him for a fraction of a second before taking interest in back of driver’s seat again.
“Cas.”
The angel swallowed and looked back up. “Yes, Dean?”
Dean didn’t want to bring this up, not while Castiel still looked like he got in a brawl with Mike Tyson and lost. The bruises were fading faster than usual, but they still painted Jimmy Novak’s unshaven jaw in greenish yellow blossoms. The open wounds were scabbed over and knitting together nicely, probably saving the vessel from any future scaring. He still had a light bandage tapped to his neck, hiding the worst of the sword wound that could have ended both their lives it had been three more inches to the right.
Dean wanted to ask. He wanted to know how the angel could up and loose his amulet…the only lead they had in finding…for Christ’s sake…God. Not to mention, Dean thought, my most treasured possession from Sam. He glanced at Sam and found his brother keeping a fair distance from the conversation by staring out the window. It was as close as the younger Winchester could escape the confines of the boat that was the Impala.
Sam finally noticed Dean’s glance and frowned at him. The expression clearly read ‘You started this one, I’m just here for the ride.’
“Are you alright?” Dean asked, looking up into the mirror again.
“I am recovering.” The angel replied.
Dean nodded slowly, casting his eyes back to the road. “What’s going on with you, Cas?” He asked. “You lit out of Bobby’s the second we got back from…Carthage, and you show back up two days later a freaking mess. And oh,” he raised his hand. “With Jimmy at the wheel.” The hunter looked back into his mirror, watching Castiel as the angel listened and then cast his eyes into the footwell.
There was a long and drawn out silence, which was enough for Sam to finally start paying more attention to the conversation. He turned in his seat and stretched an arm over the back to see both his brother and the angel better.
“I have lost a great deal more of my powers than I thought,” Castiel said at last, defeat lingering in his voice. “I…I cannot exorcise demons and…my ability to heal my vessel is now beginning to diminish.”
“Is Jimmy alright now?” Sam asked.
Castiel nodded once. “I have healed his internal injuries, but the effort to do that has depleted my reserves. Zachariah was insistent that the garrison came at me with ‘everything they had’.” The angel licked his chapped lips. “Jimmy is currently suspended in dreams, guarded from the pain of recovery. I had no desire to make him aware of the assault…but it seems that my ability to shield him from such things are also starting to wane.”
“If this keeps up…are you going to be able to hang on to Jimmy’s body?”
Castiel looked up, his expression grim. “I am not sure.” He replied. “I have no idea how much longer it will be before being severed from the Host will begin to effect that or my ability to fly.”
The bothers shared a concerned look.
“Dean, I am sorry I lost your amulet.” The angel said after they fell into a long silence. “I have every intention of retrieving it once I am fit for such action.”
“Not without me, you’re not.” Dean said, his hands tightening on the wheel.
Castiel’s head tilted slightly in confusion. “Dean, the other side of the veil is not a place for mortals. There are dangers there that you are not prepared to face.”
“I was reading about that.” Sam cut in, reaching for his messenger bag at his feet. “Before Gabriel took off he gave us some information about what is on the other side. It’s called the Nevernever.” He pulled out a slim book, edges ragged and leather spine peeling. “I also found a few things in Dad’s journal about running into some fae back in ’96. There was some stuff about it there too.”
“The Nevernever is a place for no mortal. Not even demons dare to tread there and the Host is not welcomed by the powerful courts of the Winter and Summer Sidhe.”
Dean glanced up, incredulous. “You guys are afraid of a couple of fairies?” He asked. He realized a moment later what he had said and a mortified look crossed his face. “Are you telling me that the thing that made off with my necklace as a god damn pixie?!”
“Or trolls...” Sam said, flipping through his book.
Dean glared at him. “You are not helping Sam!”
The angel shook his head. “It was an agreement. Uriel spoke of it once. The Unseelie Accords. Our part of the treaty was to never interfere in the activities of the Sidhe courts.”
“Um…” Sam looked up expectantly. “Didn’t you rip a hole in the veil and throw Dean’s amulet in it? If you’re not welcomed there, how do you plan on getting it back?”
“I…have not have time to consider it.” The angel said. “I admit it was a poor decision, but I had little time to hide the amulet from Zachariah and I was certain I was going to be captured or killed at the time. I could not risk coming to you.”
Dean sighed. “How about we just put up a post office box somewhere and the next time this happens you just drop it off there instead.”
“Would this be wise?” Castiel asked.
“Better than letting it get taken by Tinkerbell,” the hunter muttered.
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Chapter 4
wc: 2,500
Bobby sighed as he slammed the phone back down on the receiver. He wheeled around to the rest of his kitchen and found Dean setting another duffel alongside Sam’s and a few others.
“I checked out your source from that Detective McBain in New York,” the grizzled hunter informed them. “The cop Murphy you were told about in that little network is part of the Chicago PD’s Special Investigations unit. Her name is Karrin.”
“Special Investigations?” Dean said, checking himself for his usual collection of knives, holy water, keys, and lock picks. He stopped for a moment and stared at Bobby, hard. “Don’t tell me someone in law enforcement finally decided they make up a police force for our crap.”
“Looks like it.” Bobby said as he wheeled up to the kitchen table. Castiel sat to his left, dressed in a cleaned suit and trench coat…but his face an ugly mass of cuts and bruises. He was picking at a bowl of honey nut cheerios and sipping from a glass of milk, neither of which made the wounded angel happy. Bobby had threatened once already that afternoon that if the rogue Host didn’t eat something on behalf of his vessel, the wheelchair bound hunter was going to ram it down his throat.
Sam came stomping through the house, the last of their luggage packed and ready. He settled the duffel on top of the stack waiting by the door. “So we are good with our contact?”
“Not yet.” Bobby said. “Murphy was out of her office. Apparently she had to drop in on a consultant.” He picked at the rough finish of his kitchen table with a fingernail. “You boys seen the news yet?”
There was a long pause in which both brothers failed to answer. But it was really all that the older hunter needed to hear.
“They just released the news about Carthage.” He explained. “The story’s been breaking while you were packing.”
“I’m surprised it took them that long to find out.” Dean said quietly, reaching into Castiel’s bowl and helping the angel eat the rest of his meal. Castiel looked up at him for a moment and then cast his eyes away. Guilt hung over him like a shroud and had been there ever since he woke up and made it clear that he was back in control of Jimmy’s body. He drank the remainder of his milk and stood up stiffly.
Sam began to heave duffels off the floor. He passed some off to Dean and started for the door before looking back. “You okay with us taking off?” He said.
“Boy, I’ve had plenty of Thanksgivings without your sorry asses here.” Bobby snapped. “Stop your fretting and get out of my house!”
The younger Winchester nodded slowly and proceeded outside, Dean and his wounded angel in tow. They descended the wooden ramp and walked out to the rumbling Impala, idling in the cold junkyard and puffing exhaust into the chilled air.
“Hey!” Bobby called from the door. The three men turned to look back.
“You call me when you get to Chicago and keep me posted.” The hunter ordered. “I’ll track down this Murphy and get her to meet you as soon as I can.” He huffed a breath, letting it cloud in front of him as he scanned the salvage yard coated in a veil of white. He pinned his gaze on the Winchesters after a moment.
“I don’t care what you idjits do as long as you don’t get yourselves killed. And be back here for Christmas.” Bobby finally ground out.
“Really?” Dean asked, his lip twitching with a smirk. “Aw Bobby, I’m sure you’ve had enough those by yourself you don’t need us around.”
“Don’t make me repeat myself boy.” Bobby said and wheeled back into the house to push the door shut. “I want your asses back here by Christmas, end of the world or no.” And with a bang, the hunter abandoned them to the South Dakota winter.
Dean glanced at his brother in surprise before motioning for Castiel to stagger on towards the Impala and finish loading up.
----
“Thirteen thousand people are dead or missing?” Bob’s teeth clacked together, his eye lights little points deep within his skull. “Um…Harry…”
The wizard looked up from his workbench, which was littered with processed pictures, a half dozen books, and several notebooks. He cast his gaze to a wooden shelf coated with the stubs of multicolored wax candles. Nestled among several well-used harlequin novels was a human skull, eyes glowing with warm orange light like candle flame. “Do you know what did this Bob?” Harry asked.
The skull actually began to chatter in a way similar to fear. “I hear Antarctica is nice this time of year. You feel like relocating boss?”
“Bob.” Harry ground out. “I don’t have time for this. Do you know what would need a human sacrifice of over ten thousand women and children?”
“Harry.” The skull stopped shaking. “Harry, you don’t want to get into this. It’s best we just quietly pack our bags and run for the hills. Take Molly with you. Or Murphy. Murphy would be good. You could repopulate the earth. Bring Justine along too.”
Dresden shot up from his chair, his first hitting the table. “Bob! I asked you a question! Answer it!”
The skull actually managed to simulate swallowing in nervousness, something Harry hadn’t time to figure out how the spirit managed to that pull off without a tongue or throat.
“Harry, something this big…it’s bad. Whatever did this, who ever was crazy enough to do this…did it for a reason. Snuffing out a human life can be a powerful kick for any spell.” Bob said quietly. “That…that many though…sounds like it was a summoning ritual. For something big.”
The phone rang upstairs, bringing their conversation to a halt. Harry worked his jaw in thought before reached out for the skull on its wax-covered shelf and setting it on the table amid the evidence.
“You look this over. I’m going to see who wants to talk to me now.” Harry ordered, weaving his way through the tight space towards the folding ladder leading back upstairs from the sub basement.
He snatched the wailing phone off the receiver. “Dresden.”
“I didn’t know if it was safe to contact you yet.” The woman on the other end said. “I knew you had been taken by the Council, I only just heard from my sources in Chicago that you were alone.”
Harry took a short breath, stilling the swell of emotions filling his chest. “Elaine.”
“Harry, what is going on?” Elaine demanded.
“I’m not sure.” He replied. “Are you calling about what happened in Carthage?”
There was a pause. “People are scared Harry. I’m hearing all sorts of things from the Paranet.”
“It is all probably the same things that I’m getting from the other end.” Harry sighed, sweeping his kitchen for dirty dishes. He reached into the cupboard under the sink and began to fill Mouse and Mister’s dishes. “Something went and wiped out a whole town. The place is just covered in magical energies. The Wardens are still trying to figure out what kind of magic it was. Bob thinks it’s a summoning ritual.”
“If those who died were the catalyst for the spell, it was black magic.” Elaine declared.
“I agree.” The wizard set the dishes out, just as Mister appeared from atop the bookshelf and Mouse ambled around the small apartment from where he slept against the front door. “There was other stuff.”
“What other stuff?”
“Did we have anyone in the Paranet in or around Carthage?”
Elaine was silent for a moment. Harry heard the rustling of papers and the creaking of a chair. “The closest psychic in the area was a woman named Missouri in Lawrence, Kansas. She isn’t a member of the Paranet, but she is spoken highly of by others who are.”
Harry whistled. “Wow, you keep track of the non members too?”
“Just a few important ones.” Elaine said. He could hear the smile that was creeping across her face. “But why do you want to know about there being anyone in Carthage?”
“We found a car, belonged to an Ellen Harvelle from Nebraska,” he informed. “The whole thing was covered in protection wards, armed to the teeth with everything someone who deals regularly with the supernatural. The back seat had a storage compartment in it loaded up with books we’d own.”
“Harvelle. Nebraska.” More papers rustled and several file cabinets clicked open and banged shut. “I know I heard something about a Harvelle in Nebraska. Another one of those ‘unofficial’ things.” Elaine sighed a little. “I’ll look around some more but I don’t think I’m going to fine anything right off.”
Harry fished a pencil out of a mason jar by the phone and turned up the back of a used envelope. “Could I get that psychic’s name from Lawrence?”
“Sure.” She recited off a number and address. After a moment Elaine piped up. “Harry?”
“Yeah?”
Elaine stalled for a few more moments. “Be careful,” she finally said and hung up.
----
The white elephant wearing the trench coat in the Impala had finally gotten too big to ignore as they tore across Iowa. Dean flicked his eyes up to the rearview, finding Castiel’s borrowed blue eyes staring back at him for a fraction of a second before taking interest in back of driver’s seat again.
“Cas.”
The angel swallowed and looked back up. “Yes, Dean?”
Dean didn’t want to bring this up, not while Castiel still looked like he got in a brawl with Mike Tyson and lost. The bruises were fading faster than usual, but they still painted Jimmy Novak’s unshaven jaw in greenish yellow blossoms. The open wounds were scabbed over and knitting together nicely, probably saving the vessel from any future scaring. He still had a light bandage tapped to his neck, hiding the worst of the sword wound that could have ended both their lives it had been three more inches to the right.
Dean wanted to ask. He wanted to know how the angel could up and loose his amulet…the only lead they had in finding…for Christ’s sake…God. Not to mention, Dean thought, my most treasured possession from Sam. He glanced at Sam and found his brother keeping a fair distance from the conversation by staring out the window. It was as close as the younger Winchester could escape the confines of the boat that was the Impala.
Sam finally noticed Dean’s glance and frowned at him. The expression clearly read ‘You started this one, I’m just here for the ride.’
“Are you alright?” Dean asked, looking up into the mirror again.
“I am recovering.” The angel replied.
Dean nodded slowly, casting his eyes back to the road. “What’s going on with you, Cas?” He asked. “You lit out of Bobby’s the second we got back from…Carthage, and you show back up two days later a freaking mess. And oh,” he raised his hand. “With Jimmy at the wheel.” The hunter looked back into his mirror, watching Castiel as the angel listened and then cast his eyes into the footwell.
There was a long and drawn out silence, which was enough for Sam to finally start paying more attention to the conversation. He turned in his seat and stretched an arm over the back to see both his brother and the angel better.
“I have lost a great deal more of my powers than I thought,” Castiel said at last, defeat lingering in his voice. “I…I cannot exorcise demons and…my ability to heal my vessel is now beginning to diminish.”
“Is Jimmy alright now?” Sam asked.
Castiel nodded once. “I have healed his internal injuries, but the effort to do that has depleted my reserves. Zachariah was insistent that the garrison came at me with ‘everything they had’.” The angel licked his chapped lips. “Jimmy is currently suspended in dreams, guarded from the pain of recovery. I had no desire to make him aware of the assault…but it seems that my ability to shield him from such things are also starting to wane.”
“If this keeps up…are you going to be able to hang on to Jimmy’s body?”
Castiel looked up, his expression grim. “I am not sure.” He replied. “I have no idea how much longer it will be before being severed from the Host will begin to effect that or my ability to fly.”
The bothers shared a concerned look.
“Dean, I am sorry I lost your amulet.” The angel said after they fell into a long silence. “I have every intention of retrieving it once I am fit for such action.”
“Not without me, you’re not.” Dean said, his hands tightening on the wheel.
Castiel’s head tilted slightly in confusion. “Dean, the other side of the veil is not a place for mortals. There are dangers there that you are not prepared to face.”
“I was reading about that.” Sam cut in, reaching for his messenger bag at his feet. “Before Gabriel took off he gave us some information about what is on the other side. It’s called the Nevernever.” He pulled out a slim book, edges ragged and leather spine peeling. “I also found a few things in Dad’s journal about running into some fae back in ’96. There was some stuff about it there too.”
“The Nevernever is a place for no mortal. Not even demons dare to tread there and the Host is not welcomed by the powerful courts of the Winter and Summer Sidhe.”
Dean glanced up, incredulous. “You guys are afraid of a couple of fairies?” He asked. He realized a moment later what he had said and a mortified look crossed his face. “Are you telling me that the thing that made off with my necklace as a god damn pixie?!”
“Or trolls...” Sam said, flipping through his book.
Dean glared at him. “You are not helping Sam!”
The angel shook his head. “It was an agreement. Uriel spoke of it once. The Unseelie Accords. Our part of the treaty was to never interfere in the activities of the Sidhe courts.”
“Um…” Sam looked up expectantly. “Didn’t you rip a hole in the veil and throw Dean’s amulet in it? If you’re not welcomed there, how do you plan on getting it back?”
“I…have not have time to consider it.” The angel said. “I admit it was a poor decision, but I had little time to hide the amulet from Zachariah and I was certain I was going to be captured or killed at the time. I could not risk coming to you.”
Dean sighed. “How about we just put up a post office box somewhere and the next time this happens you just drop it off there instead.”
“Would this be wise?” Castiel asked.
“Better than letting it get taken by Tinkerbell,” the hunter muttered.
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