Orders of an Elder Time, 5/?
Title: Orders of an Elder Time, 5/?
Verse: The Libation Bearers
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: reading_is_in
Characters: Ben/Adam, Bobby.
Genre: Drama
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All recognized characters from ‘Supernatural’ are property of Eric Kripke/CW. This fan fiction is not for profit.
Summary: Follows Events in Sun and Shadows. The year is 2019. Adam and Ben are making some kind of life together. But the demon, to coin a phrase, is still out there, and Ben's dreams start to take a strange turn.
Warnings: Major characters...are dead, later gore, more angst than you can shake a very angsty stick at.
Ben couldn’t avoid poignancy - he’d grown up in this town. Anybody would feel it - seeing your old school, your elementary school, looking small with unfamiliar paintings on the low walls...even if nothing had happened.
“Okay?” Adam asked, looking sideways at him.
“Yeah.”
“Where d’you want to stay?”
“There’s a bunch of motels in Noblesville. Shouldn’t cost a lot.”
Cicero wasn’t a shithole town, and after a quick scout, they checked into the Super 8. Positively luxurious by their usual standards. Working A/C and a sanitary bathroom; the advertised ‘lounge’ was a snack counter with a few chairs and tables set out, but they hadn’t come for the food. Once they’d dumped their stuff, Adam ran over to the newsstand attached to the motel, returned with two cokes and an armful of local papers.
Forty-five minutes later they had empty bottles and an equally empty list of options.
“Nothing,” Adam said, flipping the final paper closed. “So...warehouses?”
“Fishers. C.A.P. had their business over in Fishers, I think.” Ben thought. Vague flash of his uncle’s truck. Uncle Will, huge in his overalls, stooping down and surprising him with a lollypop. They took off again. Every turn of the road familiar enough to feel like motion sickness.
“C.A.P?” said the site manager, scratching his hard hat as though he could scratch his head through it. “They went bust near a decade ago.”
“We know sir,” Adam assured him. “We were wondering if you knew were they kept their materials.”
The man regarded him suspiciously. “No idea. Probably one of the old derelicts up near Brackenwood. And hey - you can’t just wander around here without safety gear.”
“I don’t know how to do this,” Ben groaned, when they’d both been quite literally kicked to the curb and were sitting on the pavement across from the warehouse complex. It was a bright day, and the workers regarding them weirdly as they carted their wares between the buildings. “This isn’t an investigation, it’s a joke. How did they always know how find out stuff?” They referred to the dead now. There was no point in Ben saying ‘Dean’ or Adam saying ‘Sam’, because each had only really known one - but both understood they had been a team, that together they could solve anything.
“They did have more practice,” Adam observed. “You know - my dad trained them from childhood. But they must have hit dead ends. It’s probably you just...remember the eventful times.”
Ben tried to imagine them sitting a motel room somewhere, younger perhaps, very young, papers spread out around them, frustrated and at a dead end and not knowing what to do. Impossible. “Do you think....” Ben raised troubled eyes. “Do you think I’m just - going crazy? Like I did have an ‘episode’ or whatever you called it? It doesn’t feel like there’s...” ‘anything here’, he finished in his head. The pavement was warm, the sky blue, and little kids were playing noisily out front of the childcare centre behind them.
“No,” said Adam, firmly and quickly. “Ben, you....you didn’t see you. I was scared, man. Something happened to you.”
“Like a psychotic break?”
“Absolutely not.” Adam stood up, brushed his jeans off. “He said there were derelicts out near -Brackenwood? You know where that is?”
“No.” Suddenly charged, Adam turned around, and selected a general store from the row of buildings behind them. He ducked and returned a moment later carrying a local map. “Here,” he pointed to a patch of greenery marked outside Cicero limits. “Brackenwood. Let’s go.” He offered his hand to Ben and hauled him up. This time Ben let him drive.
The drive meant nothing to Ben - unfamiliar - until they were outside the city and heading up a hill, and then as they crested it
- it was morning, very early morning, and he’d stumbled down this road with his mother’s blood soaking his jeans, splinters in his hands and feet, blinded by his own tears....heading back alone from the last journey they’d taken together -
He heard a sound, half a scream, half a choked sob, and only realized it was him when he felt the answering scratch in his throat, reverberating. They were pulled over, on the side of the road, and Adam was pulling his hands away from his face.
“...what is it?”
“This is it,” Ben choked out: “This is the place.”
Adam peered anxiously into his face, still holding his wrists.
“They died up there,” Ben jerked his head towards the crest of the hill. “The warehouse by the woods. I didn’t remember until.....” he drew a shuddering breath.
“Do you want to go back?” Adam whispered, running a hand up Ben’s arm to cup the side of his face.
“No,” Ben said, turning away from Adam and back to the road. “I want to....go there.”
“Do you have the knife?”
“Yes.”
“I have holy water and salt in my backpack. Chalk for traps. Are you sure?”
“Let’s just go,” Ben’s fingers gripped the edge of seat. ‘Alright you son of a bitch. You want me, here I come’. He mentally said it in Dean’s voice in the hope it would sound more convincing. He kept his eyes on the road and his teeth gritted as memories assaulted him, images he’d forgotten his brain harboured. The curve of the path and the treeline had absorbed his nightmare, and they flooded it back to him in the bright summer daylight. Fuck it. He’d survived the journey down, he’d survive the one back up. Adam was next to him. That couldn’t make anything okay. But he was, still.
The sight of the warehouse itself didn’t do much. He was prepared for it. It was just an old warehouse. Dull. Busted-out.
“Wait,” Adam said when he parked. He put his hand on Ben’s leg. “Are you...do you....remember the exorcisms?”
“Yes,” Ben said shortly. They got out. Maybe they should approach warily. But how? There was no cover directly around the warehouse, just the trees beyond it. It ought to feel like walking up to his doom. Whatever. Ben kicked the door open almost savagely.
And yes. He fucking remembered.
The dimensions of the room, the window, the positions of what was left of the bodies. The way daylight following darkness had changed the shapes of things. The feel of the still-warmth of what they had been. He couldn’t help it. He jerked back outside abruptly and vomited the remains of his breakfast.
That done, he ducked into the warehouse, and joined Adam in chalking devils traps on every available surface. There were dark stains on the floorboards and he chalked right over them. They sat back to back in the middle of the chalked room and waited.
“I’m sorry,” said Adam quietly after a long moment.
“Yeah,” said Ben.
The morning wore on, and the only sound was the inappropriate rumble of Adam’s stomach. It must have been mid-afternoon when Ben sighed and bowed his head to his knees.
“It won’t come,” he said. “What the fuck is the point in bringing me here if it won’t fucking come?”
“Perhaps it can sense the traps,” Adam said, and it could certainly sense something, because at that instant, with a searing pain, the demon made itself known again in the darkness behind Ben’s eyes.
Part Six
Verse: The Libation Bearers
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: reading_is_in
Characters: Ben/Adam, Bobby.
Genre: Drama
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All recognized characters from ‘Supernatural’ are property of Eric Kripke/CW. This fan fiction is not for profit.
Summary: Follows Events in Sun and Shadows. The year is 2019. Adam and Ben are making some kind of life together. But the demon, to coin a phrase, is still out there, and Ben's dreams start to take a strange turn.
Warnings: Major characters...are dead, later gore, more angst than you can shake a very angsty stick at.
Ben couldn’t avoid poignancy - he’d grown up in this town. Anybody would feel it - seeing your old school, your elementary school, looking small with unfamiliar paintings on the low walls...even if nothing had happened.
“Okay?” Adam asked, looking sideways at him.
“Yeah.”
“Where d’you want to stay?”
“There’s a bunch of motels in Noblesville. Shouldn’t cost a lot.”
Cicero wasn’t a shithole town, and after a quick scout, they checked into the Super 8. Positively luxurious by their usual standards. Working A/C and a sanitary bathroom; the advertised ‘lounge’ was a snack counter with a few chairs and tables set out, but they hadn’t come for the food. Once they’d dumped their stuff, Adam ran over to the newsstand attached to the motel, returned with two cokes and an armful of local papers.
Forty-five minutes later they had empty bottles and an equally empty list of options.
“Nothing,” Adam said, flipping the final paper closed. “So...warehouses?”
“Fishers. C.A.P. had their business over in Fishers, I think.” Ben thought. Vague flash of his uncle’s truck. Uncle Will, huge in his overalls, stooping down and surprising him with a lollypop. They took off again. Every turn of the road familiar enough to feel like motion sickness.
“C.A.P?” said the site manager, scratching his hard hat as though he could scratch his head through it. “They went bust near a decade ago.”
“We know sir,” Adam assured him. “We were wondering if you knew were they kept their materials.”
The man regarded him suspiciously. “No idea. Probably one of the old derelicts up near Brackenwood. And hey - you can’t just wander around here without safety gear.”
“I don’t know how to do this,” Ben groaned, when they’d both been quite literally kicked to the curb and were sitting on the pavement across from the warehouse complex. It was a bright day, and the workers regarding them weirdly as they carted their wares between the buildings. “This isn’t an investigation, it’s a joke. How did they always know how find out stuff?” They referred to the dead now. There was no point in Ben saying ‘Dean’ or Adam saying ‘Sam’, because each had only really known one - but both understood they had been a team, that together they could solve anything.
“They did have more practice,” Adam observed. “You know - my dad trained them from childhood. But they must have hit dead ends. It’s probably you just...remember the eventful times.”
Ben tried to imagine them sitting a motel room somewhere, younger perhaps, very young, papers spread out around them, frustrated and at a dead end and not knowing what to do. Impossible. “Do you think....” Ben raised troubled eyes. “Do you think I’m just - going crazy? Like I did have an ‘episode’ or whatever you called it? It doesn’t feel like there’s...” ‘anything here’, he finished in his head. The pavement was warm, the sky blue, and little kids were playing noisily out front of the childcare centre behind them.
“No,” said Adam, firmly and quickly. “Ben, you....you didn’t see you. I was scared, man. Something happened to you.”
“Like a psychotic break?”
“Absolutely not.” Adam stood up, brushed his jeans off. “He said there were derelicts out near -Brackenwood? You know where that is?”
“No.” Suddenly charged, Adam turned around, and selected a general store from the row of buildings behind them. He ducked and returned a moment later carrying a local map. “Here,” he pointed to a patch of greenery marked outside Cicero limits. “Brackenwood. Let’s go.” He offered his hand to Ben and hauled him up. This time Ben let him drive.
The drive meant nothing to Ben - unfamiliar - until they were outside the city and heading up a hill, and then as they crested it
- it was morning, very early morning, and he’d stumbled down this road with his mother’s blood soaking his jeans, splinters in his hands and feet, blinded by his own tears....heading back alone from the last journey they’d taken together -
He heard a sound, half a scream, half a choked sob, and only realized it was him when he felt the answering scratch in his throat, reverberating. They were pulled over, on the side of the road, and Adam was pulling his hands away from his face.
“...what is it?”
“This is it,” Ben choked out: “This is the place.”
Adam peered anxiously into his face, still holding his wrists.
“They died up there,” Ben jerked his head towards the crest of the hill. “The warehouse by the woods. I didn’t remember until.....” he drew a shuddering breath.
“Do you want to go back?” Adam whispered, running a hand up Ben’s arm to cup the side of his face.
“No,” Ben said, turning away from Adam and back to the road. “I want to....go there.”
“Do you have the knife?”
“Yes.”
“I have holy water and salt in my backpack. Chalk for traps. Are you sure?”
“Let’s just go,” Ben’s fingers gripped the edge of seat. ‘Alright you son of a bitch. You want me, here I come’. He mentally said it in Dean’s voice in the hope it would sound more convincing. He kept his eyes on the road and his teeth gritted as memories assaulted him, images he’d forgotten his brain harboured. The curve of the path and the treeline had absorbed his nightmare, and they flooded it back to him in the bright summer daylight. Fuck it. He’d survived the journey down, he’d survive the one back up. Adam was next to him. That couldn’t make anything okay. But he was, still.
The sight of the warehouse itself didn’t do much. He was prepared for it. It was just an old warehouse. Dull. Busted-out.
“Wait,” Adam said when he parked. He put his hand on Ben’s leg. “Are you...do you....remember the exorcisms?”
“Yes,” Ben said shortly. They got out. Maybe they should approach warily. But how? There was no cover directly around the warehouse, just the trees beyond it. It ought to feel like walking up to his doom. Whatever. Ben kicked the door open almost savagely.
And yes. He fucking remembered.
The dimensions of the room, the window, the positions of what was left of the bodies. The way daylight following darkness had changed the shapes of things. The feel of the still-warmth of what they had been. He couldn’t help it. He jerked back outside abruptly and vomited the remains of his breakfast.
That done, he ducked into the warehouse, and joined Adam in chalking devils traps on every available surface. There were dark stains on the floorboards and he chalked right over them. They sat back to back in the middle of the chalked room and waited.
“I’m sorry,” said Adam quietly after a long moment.
“Yeah,” said Ben.
The morning wore on, and the only sound was the inappropriate rumble of Adam’s stomach. It must have been mid-afternoon when Ben sighed and bowed his head to his knees.
“It won’t come,” he said. “What the fuck is the point in bringing me here if it won’t fucking come?”
“Perhaps it can sense the traps,” Adam said, and it could certainly sense something, because at that instant, with a searing pain, the demon made itself known again in the darkness behind Ben’s eyes.
Part Six