Gilgamesh Wulfenbach and the Men of Letters 3/?
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Chapter 3
The Bunker and the Cathedral
Four days crawled by after Kevin’s discovery in the garage-and he was sure of that only because Cas called at the end of each day to check on him. After his first day’s research on the brass thing, however, Cas recommended that he go back to working on the angel tablet translation. He did so but completely ran aground on the section regarding the spell Metatron had used. It wasn’t just difficult, as the earlier sections and the demon tablet had been; it was outright impossible. He’d somehow managed to get it transliterated into Proto-Elamite, but that language was so long dead, even the Men of Letters didn’t have an actual English dictionary. And he had the nagging suspicion that Metatron had encrypted this section deliberately.
Crowley was available, of course. He made sure to call out every time Kevin passed the storeroom that hid the dungeon. And granted, Kevin was worried about Sam and Dean, not to mention lonely and not a little put out at still being stuck in this situation after all this time. But Cas had warned him not to go near the captive King of Hell, and though it took every ounce of self-discipline Kevin had, he did not give in to the temptation even to go into the storeroom. He still remembered the last time he’d gone in to see Crowley alone and somehow let himself be goaded into beating the demon savagely. He wasn’t proud of that, and he wasn’t going to let it happen again.
Finally, however, Cas called to let Kevin know when and where to meet his bus from somewhere in Idaho. The former angel’s gravelly voice sounded even rougher and more tired than usual, so Kevin wasn’t terribly surprised to find Cas at the bus station with his arm in a sling and circles under his blue eyes that were almost as dark as his disheveled hair. It was a good thing Cas hadn’t tried to drive, if he even knew how. Kevin did, and the car Dean had ‘appropriated’ for him before sending him to the bunker the first time was still in good working order, so getting to the bus station hadn’t been a problem, even though it was over ninety miles from Lebanon. (Putting the bunker near the geographic center of the US might have been good security on the Men of Letters’ part, but it was terribly inconvenient to have nothing nearby but miles and miles of Kansas and Nebraska.)
“I’m all right,” was the first thing Cas said when Kevin walked up to him.
Kevin huffed. “You are a Winchester. What happened?”
“A healer angel, a Rit Zien-his name was Ephraim. He... didn’t fully understand human suffering, so he was killing those whom he deemed in need of release from their pain.” Cas flexed his splinted hand. “He nearly got the better of me.”
Kevin sighed. “C’mon. I’ll fill you in on the way. You got any bags?”
“No.” Cas stood wearily and followed Kevin to the car. “Still no sign of Sam and Dean?” he asked as they got in.
“None. I’ve got one long-shot match on the sigil on that brass thing, but no more than that. And I’ve hit the wall on the angel tablet, too.”
Cas sighed heavily and didn’t say anything. He was asleep before they reached the city limits.
There wasn’t a good place to stop for food on the way back to the bunker, so Kevin cooked while Cas worked on the Proto-Elamite text. Just about the time the soup finished heating through, however, Cas threw down his pencil in frustration.
“What?” Kevin asked.
“The spell. It can’t be reversed. The text speaks of a secret portal that would allow the angels to return to Heaven through the back door, as it were, but it gives no location. Metatron must be the only one who knows where it is. That....” Cas hesitated, as if looking for the right phrase, before finally settling on a very nasty Enochian name.
“So what do we do?”
“First we eat. Then we find Sam and Dean.”
After they ate, Kevin led Cas to the library, where his laptop was set up beside Sam’s. “Like I said,” he began, “this is a pretty long shot. The brass thing seems to be completely inert now-I mean, it’s not like I have any kind of scanner to check for energy traces, but it hasn’t done anything even when I’ve picked it up. The only clue was the emblem on one of the pieces.”
“Yes, the trilobite.”
“I did a reverse Google image search, and this is the closest match I could find.” Kevin pulled up the tab for the Girl Genius webcomic, open to a page that gave a clear view of the protagonist’s trilobite locket. As Cas frowned at it, Kevin continued, “I mean, I could be wrong, but-”
Cas shook his head. “No. You’re not wrong. It is the same design.” He started browsing through the comic’s archive.
“That doesn’t help us, though, does it? It sounds pretty silly to say they got sucked into a webcomic. But on the other hand... we are talking about Sam and Dean.”
“Were Gabriel alive, it might have been his idea of a joke. Then again, we can’t be sure of anything where Gabriel’s concerned.”
Kevin gave Cas an odd look, but Cas just kept skimming through the archive.
But then he stopped, and his frown deepened. “Something’s wrong with this website. It shows that there are many pages after this one, but they won’t load.”
“Maybe it’s down.”
“No, no, look, I can go back just fine. Only here”-Cas scrolled to the end of a page from late 2011, over panels of people talking about something called the Doom Bell to one with a grey gargoyle-ish figure with a weapon or hammer or something pulled back to strike, grinning evilly and thinking I love this part-“do the controls stop working, and only for going forward.” He demonstrated with the drop-down chapter menu, which showed another three books’ worth of material and part of a fourth but wouldn’t respond when he clicked on any of those chapters.
Kevin gave him a sidelong look. “You’re not seriously saying there’s a universe out there where this comic is real.”
“There’s at least one universe where our lives are a television show. I once arranged for Sam and Dean to be sent there to distract Raphael.”
Kevin blinked several times. “Wow. Okay. Wow.” He rubbed at his forehead to try to stave off the headache he felt coming on, but as he did so, a fragment of memory came back. “Wait. Doom Bell. There was a really loud noise-like, the walls shook. I thought something had blown up. But... now that I think about it... it was more sustained, like... like a huge, deep bell.”
Now it was Cas’ turn to give an odd look. “There’s quite a difference-”
“I know that. Look, I told you I’d been sick. I was pretty messed up at the time. And it’s not like it was close. I thought it was, like, on the other side of the bunker or something.”
Cas sighed and tried again to navigate forward. When he continued to fail, he sighed again. “It’s our only lead. I suppose we should start from the beginning to learn everything we can.” And he hit the button to go back to the first page.
“Cas, that was the end of Volume Eleven. It’ll probably take us several days to get through the whole series. And it’s nearly midnight. Let’s do this in the morning.”
Cas started to object but was interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn. “Perhaps we should. I’m... I’m sorry, Kevin. I’m still not used to being human.”
Kevin couldn’t help smiling a little at that. “That’s okay. C’mon. Dean’s probably got some pajamas you can borrow.”
Cas carefully shut the laptop, and Kevin led him to Dean’s bedroom before going to change for bed himself. When he came back a few minutes later, however, he found Cas, still dressed, sacked out on Dean’s bed. He shook his head sadly and left Cas there.
Morning found Cas taking another crack at the tablet translation, though he wouldn’t tell Kevin up front what he’d discovered. Instead, after breakfast, he insisted on trying to find just a synopsis of Girl Genius. “The Winchesters have already been gone for two weeks,” he hedged when Kevin questioned the need for haste. “The city in the comic appeared to be under attack. They may need our help.”
Kevin threw up his hands. “Okay, fine. Suit yourself. I don’t know what good we’ll do two weeks later, but-”
“Time may pass differently there than here. At least, they were in the television universe for three days but came back the same night they left, not even an hour after their disappearance. And it looked like full conversations sometimes took days, if not weeks, to appear on the website, so for Sam and Dean, only a few hours may have passed.”
Feeling another headache coming on, Kevin sighed and followed Cas to the library. He had to be the one to run the search, though, since Cas hadn’t yet mastered how to type one-handed. Wikipedia came to the rescue... but just about at the point describing the siege of Mechanicsburg, the page suddenly wouldn’t continue scrolling down.
“Hrm,” said Kevin. “Guess that means it isn’t just one website that’s glitching.”
“Kevin,” Cas asked gravely, still staring at the screen, “what ties do you still have here that would prevent your permanent disappearance?”
“... Uh, well, Crowley’s still chained up in the dungeon, and Dean would probably want us to leave the key with someone. Why?”
“We need to follow the Winchesters.”
“But it sounds like Agatha-”
“No. Not for their sake.” Cas finally looked Kevin in the eye. “The portal to Heaven is closed, and Metatron cannot simply open it at will. The angel tablet confers great power upon any angel who holds it. To open the portal, an angel must possess the tablet-and kill the prophet who bears it.”
Kevin gulped. “B-but as long as I’m here....”
Cas shook his head. “Metatron is as devious as Crowley is. And he knows you. Worse, because he was the Scribe and you are the prophet, he has a connection to you through the tablets. The only way we can be absolutely certain that he cannot reach you is to take both you and the tablets to another world.”
Not for the first time, Kevin wished he’d never heard of Sam and Dean. Yet he couldn’t fault the logic. “So, uh... how do we....”
“First we tie up our last loose ends, starting with Crowley. Killing him would be the most expedient option, but that would leave Abaddon free to rule Hell her own way, which is even less acceptable.”
“But we can’t just let him go. So what do we do with him?”
Cas smiled a little. “Have you ever been to confession?”
An hour later, both fully shriven, prophet and ex-angel walked into the dungeon, armed with syringes. And the black-suited British demon looked rather relieved to see them.
“Hallo, boys,” Crowley said with his usual smug smirk. “Castiel. Planning on becoming one of Hell’s Angels?” he added, looking pointedly at the Triumph Motorcycles shirt Cas had borrowed from Dean’s collection. “Considering Heaven doesn’t want you anymore, might be a decent career change.”
Cas didn’t reply. Instead, he simply jabbed his syringe-containing a hefty dose of his now-purified blood-into Crowley’s neck and injected the whole amount. While Crowley was still gasping for breath, Kevin did the same from the opposite side.
The double whammy left Crowley pale, breathless, and glassy-eyed. “What... what are you....”
Cas pulled out a pocket knife, grasped it as best he could in his splinted hand, and cut open his other palm, a superficial cut but deep enough and long enough to bleed freely. Then he recited the exorcism that a priest had altered to cure demons and pressed the cut against Crowley’s mouth. Crowley sucked at the cut noisily... and the demon-binding chains fell off of him.
“Cas... what... why....”
“We’re letting you go,” Cas stated, backing away and holding out his hand for Kevin to bandage.
“Letting me-” Crowley’s eyes cleared suddenly, and he leaned forward. “Moose and Squirrel. What’s happened to Moose and Squirrel?”
“That doesn’t concern you now.”
“What happened?!”
“They’re alive, so far as we know.”
Crowley ran a shaking hand over his mouth. “Did... did they go to Oz? They killed the Wicked Witch, you know, or that little ginger friend of theirs did.”
Cas frowned, but Kevin did have a vague memory of Dean saying something on the way back from Branson about having discovered Dorothy Baum and the Wicked Witch of the West in some kind of magical stasis and having Charlie Bradbury’s help in dispatching the witch. Charlie had gone to Oz with Dorothy afterward, using a key that had been stashed in the Men of Letters’ archives. “No,” Kevin stated. “Pretty sure Dorothy took the key with her.”
“But they’re gone. And you’re going after them. And-and you don’t even care that Abaddon’s running roughshod over everything I’ve built....”
“Actually, we do. That’s why we cured you rather than killing you.”
“How is turning me human going to solve anything?”
“Well, for one thing, it makes it easier to do this.” Kevin reached into his pocket, recited an Enochian spell, and blew a handful of chamomile into Crowley’s face, knocking him out.
Gingerly, and with Kevin’s help, Cas got Crowley situated across his shoulders in a fireman’s carry and followed Kevin out of the dungeon and up to the garage. There they settled Crowley in the back seat, piled into the front seat themselves, and drove around semi-aimlessly until Crowley came to somewhere outside Hebron, Nebraska.
“Well,” he groaned as he sat up. “Good one, Kev. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Shut up,” Kevin growled.
“No, really. Professional opinion. Mother was a witch.”
Kevin gritted his teeth and kept driving, looking for a town. Once they reached one, he pulled over. “Get out,” he ordered Crowley.
Crowley frowned. “This is it? No ‘Goodbye, good luck, thanks for all the help, Crowley’? Thought we were besties.”
“After you killed my mother? I don’t think so.”
Crowley deflated a little. “Kevin... I lied. Your mother’s alive.”
“What?!”
“Kevin,” Cas cautioned.
Crowley shook his head. “Trust me or don’t, but-don’t let it stop you. We may yet need Sam and Dean to stop Abaddon, not to mention whatever this is that’s gone on with the angels. Find them, you two. Linda, she’s... I’ll... I’ll look after her, make sure she gets home.”
Kevin swallowed hard. “If you’re telling the truth... tell her I’m sorry and I love her and... goodbye.”
“I shall.” Crowley started to open the car door, hesitated, then thought better of whatever he was going to say and got out.
Kevin drove away as soon as the door closed again, stopping in town for gas and then taking another road out of town to avoid Crowley while still getting back to the highway. During the gas stop, Cas used Dean’s phone to make a call Kevin didn’t overhear. They also stopped in Mankato for groceries, since supplies were running low, and went back to the bunker to rest for a few hours.
Late that evening, there was a knock at the bunker door. Cas went to answer it and returned with a dark-haired lady in a sheriff’s uniform.
“You must be Kevin,” she said before Cas could say anything and offered Kevin her hand. “Sheriff Jody Mills, Minnehaha County, South Dakota.”
Kevin blinked as he shook her hand. “South Dakota?”
“Sioux Falls. I... knew Bobby Singer. That’s how I know Sam and Dean.”
“Oh. Hi.” Kevin had known Bobby only as a ghost, and that only very briefly between the time he’d been activated as a prophet and the time Bobby had asked the Winchesters to burn the flask to which his spirit was tied. But he’d heard enough since then to know that Sam and Dean had viewed Bobby as a second father, and it sounded like Sheriff Mills had been fond of him, too.
She drew in a ragged breath and turned to Cas. “Now, Castiel, what have you done to yourself?”
Cas bristled. “You’re not my mother.”
“No, but you’re one of Bobby’s boys, and I’ll mother you if I want.”
“Sam and Dean-”
“Aren’t here. You told me. But I am not making a sixteen-hour round-trip drive just to pick up a stupid key. I’m here for the night, and you’re beat to hell. C’mere.”
Kevin resolutely did not laugh as Cas submitted with bad grace to the sheriff checking his bandages and otherwise making sure he wasn’t killing himself. They both agreed with much more cheer to her suggestion of sandwiches and beer, though after getting so thoroughly trashed in Branson, Kevin made sure to drink only one beer and drink it slowly. He slept like a log and woke up feeling pretty normal, so the tactic apparently worked. After a hearty breakfast, Sheriff Mills had Kevin show her around and explain what had happened to Sam and Dean. She couldn’t find any flaws in their logic or any evidence they might have missed. So she finally accepted the warded puzzle box that held the bunker key.
“You sure you don’t need this?” she asked, turning it over.
“Dean has his own key,” Kevin replied. “I think Sam does, too. Anyway, if-w-we can use their keys if we need to.”
She nodded slowly, visibly steeled herself to say goodbye, and gave Kevin and Cas each a hug before leaving.
As the door closed, Kevin took a deep breath and let it out again. “And now?”
Cas turned back to the library. “Now we research.”
The Heterodyne girl. Lucrezia. She was loose. She was dangerous. She was winning. And just as Bill had been, Gil was too in love with her to see sense.
Klaus had had a plan: corner Gil, convince him that he’d been wasped, and persuade him-by fair means or foul-to accept treatment. Said treatment was to consist of Klaus’ own version of behavior-modifying mind control, ensuring that Gil would serve the empire and not Lucrezia. Phase 2 would be to send Gil to capture Lucrezia. Failing that, but assuming Gil returned to Castle Wulfenbach unharmed, and if Lucrezia or the Knights of Jove somehow managed to turn the tide of the battle, Klaus would see to it that Gil remained behind on Castle Wulfenbach as the empire’s forces retreated... and go deal with Mechanicsburg himself.
It had been a good plan, as far as it went, even allowing for the eventuality of Castle Heterodyne being repaired. Especially if the Knights of Jove remained in Mechanicsburg to see Lucrezia installed as the Heterodyne, Klaus would be able to neutralize the empire’s biggest threats all at once and be freed of the burden of command at the same time. Robur Heterodyne had mentioned some kind of unforeseen consequences in his notes regarding his own experiments along this line, but Klaus didn’t have the luxury of worrying about them. If Lucrezia could wasp him, she could enslave all of Europa and leave no one the wiser. He couldn’t take that risk.
There was only one problem. No one could find Gil.
Oh, someone had spotted a flying machine leaving Castle Wulfenbach bound for the mountains, and scouts had found the machine wrecked-but no body. There was a rumor of another flyer seen heading toward Mechanicsburg, but it was impossible to tell whether it were true or whether the direction reported had been mistaken. If Dupree ever came to after having been apparently poisoned, she might be able to tell Klaus more, but he couldn’t afford to wait. The consequences of letting Lucrezia take full command of Mechanicsburg would be unconscionable. He had already given his orders... orders he was now second-guessing.
He just didn’t know if he dared risk the possibility of Gil being in Mechanicsburg himself. By some reports, Gil had a better rapport with the Jägers than Klaus himself did; they might well have smuggled him back into town if they knew of his affection for the Heterodyne girl. Could Klaus justify this desperate move, knowing that it could leave the empire without a leader?
Princess Anevka met him in the hall leading to the central vault. “Why, Herr Baron! Whatever is the matter?”
“Gil,” he growled. “Confound that boy....”
“Oh, dear. He’s probably gone back to that Agatha girl, just like my brother. This is terrible! You know what Gil and Tarvek are capable of on their own. If they join forces in the service of The Other, they could unleash untold evil across Europa!”
Yes... hadn’t he feared so himself? But he couldn’t be sure....
“There’s only one solution.” She put both hands on his shoulders. “Klaus. Destroy Mechanicsburg.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he breathed and went on his way with new resolve.
As both the storm and the siege lifted, Sam was still seething over what Dean had done to him, tricking him into accepting possession like that. Miracles were never free for Winchesters; in fact, they usually had an unacceptably high cost. Like, world-endingly high, or at least a life for a life. Maybe the cheapest was when Cas saved Sam’s sanity at the (temporary) cost of his own. Sam hadn’t wanted to die, exactly, but he hadn’t wanted anyone else to get hurt.
Yeah, he had a niggling sense that Cas and Charlie were alive because of Gadreel, and yeah, Gadreel had been helping out with the siege. That didn’t change the fact that Sam hadn’t known what he was agreeing to when he agreed to let Dean save him. And it didn’t change the fact that Dean had trusted someone who had lied about his identity. They were damn lucky it hadn’t come back to bite them-yet.
Driving off the ram had taken the edge off his annoyance. He and Dean were still going to have to talk about this at some point. Dean seemed to be in Hate me all you want, as long as you’re alive to do it mode, which a) was far too much like Dad for comfort and b) seemed to Sam to miss the point altogether. The problem wasn’t that Dean had saved his life; the problem was that he’d lied. And big brother prerogative didn’t give him carte blanche, not on this score.
Sam was still brooding over the situation as Team Heterodyne (he had no idea what to call anyone, since they were all younger than he but also various ranks of nobility) trooped down from the walls and started toward the cathedral, accompanied by a pack of eight-legged weasels and followed by what seemed like half the town. Von Blitzengaard rode up just as they were starting away from the gate, but Lady Agatha declined to ride with him... especially since she could summon Franz with a snap of her fingers if she needed to show off, which reminded Sam way too much of Gabriel. Besides, she was flanked by both of her potential boyfriends and had both Winchesters as her rearguard, which somewhat obviated the need for von Blitzengaard to serve even as a bodyguard (and for the Winchesters to acknowledge him as the king he claimed to be).
As the group arrived at the cathedral, Wul-Gil-Wulfenbach caught Sam’s eye and nodded toward von Blitzengaard. Assuming that meant he wanted Sam to watch von Blitzengaard, Sam nodded back and silently relayed the request to Dean, who snorted quietly and nodded once. Wulfenbach went ahead with Lady Agatha and her seneschal, Vanamonde von Mekkhan, while Prince Tarvek fell back to walk beside von Blitzengaard, who cut in behind Lady Agatha.
At that, Dean glanced at Prince Tarvek and raised an eyebrow at Sam-We’d better keep an eye on him, too.
Sam raised both eyebrows in agreement. Dean had evidently spent more time with Prince Tarvek after Wulfenbach had sent the prince back to Lady Agatha, but from what little Sam had seen and overheard, he wasn’t trustworthy. His affection for Lady Agatha might be genuine, but he seemed to be on no one’s side except his own.
Thus it was that the Winchesters sat behind the rival claimants to the throne of the Storm King while Lady Agatha underwent whatever ceremonies needed to be performed to secure her accession to her title. Although most people were focused on her, Sam could clearly hear the argument Prince Tarvek and von Blitzengaard were hissing at each other over both Agatha and their own relative claims. And just as everyone else got up to start toward another part of the cathedral, von Blitzengaard muttered something to himself that Sam didn’t quite catch but Dean clearly did.
“Not so fast, Your High-and-mightiness,” Dean rumbled quietly, pressing the barrel of his handgun against the base of von Blitzengaard’s skull. “We need to talk.”
Von Blitzengaard growled softly but stayed put until the rest of the group had moved off. Then he began, “Listen, you upstart American-”
“No, you listen, Tweedle-dum. Your nun girlfriend tried to take Wulfenbach hostage, and now Tarheel thinks you’ll try to replace Agatha. What the hell are you actually doing here?”
“You dare question me? I am the Storm King!”
“Wulfenbach says you’re not,” Sam retorted. “He would know, given who his father is-and he’s some sort of prince himself.”
“You lie! Klaus Wulfenbach is a baron, a usurper, nothing more. He has no ties to the Fifty Families. We would know if he did!”
“Well, it sounded like it was news to his son, too. But you still haven’t answered our question.”
“I do not answer to you, peasant.”
Dean chuckled unpleasantly. “Then we’ll just sit right here until you change your mind. Or maybe you’ll answer to somebody else-like Agatha.”
Sam suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Von Blitzengaard didn’t move a muscle, but Sam could tell he was about to try something and tensed, watching von Blitzengaard’s hands.
“Van!” a male voice called from outside. “Lady Heterodyne! Something’s coming!”
Von Blitzengaard reached for something in his coat, and Sam pounced, knocking Dean aside. In the ensuing struggle, von Blitzengaard tried to throw a knife at Dean, but Sam grabbed the hilt-and quite by accident, the blade slashed through von Blitzengaard’s shirt and drew blood. The would-be king gave a gurgling gasp and collapsed, seemingly paralyzed.
Dean sat up, swearing. “What the hell did you do?”
“I don’t know!” Sam returned. “It was an accident!”
Violetta, Lady Agatha’s bodyguard and Prince Tarvek’s cousin, came running. “What happened?”
“He tried to throw a knife at Dean. I fought him for it-was it poisoned?”
“Y-yes,” von Blitzengaard gasped. “M-my own... no cure....”
Dean’s eyes widened. “Oh, good job, Laertes. Real smooth.” At Sam’s double-take at the Hamlet reference, he added, “What? I read.”
Violetta pulled some kind of test kit out of her utility belt, but von Blitzengaard gasped, “Don’t... bother... it was... Nullabist....”
“What?!” she exploded. “Tweedle, you swore you’d given up those things!”
“H-h-have now,” von Blitzengaard replied and breathed his last.
She swore and looked around, then spotted one of the mummy-like undead that seemed to inhabit the cathedral and pointed to it. “YOU! Get a coffin for this idiot right away-he’ll be decomposing in about thirty minutes!”
The mummy rasped some kind of affirmative and shuffled off to dispose of von Blitzengaard’s mortal coil. And Sam decided he really needed to stop thinking about Hamlet.
Dean frowned. “Thirty minutes?”
Violetta nodded. “It causes such severe contamination that the body liquefies. That’s why it’s called Nullabist-there’s nothing left.”
Both brothers swore and looked at each other with wide eyes. Von Blitzengaard had tried to use that on Dean. If Sam hadn’t been there, hadn’t been watching, hadn’t been faster....
“Hey!” she snapped, drawing their attention. “We need to get back to Agatha. There’s some kind of Wulfenbach craft coming in fast.”
Nothing more needed to be said, and the three of them headed for the cathedral’s front door. Still, Sam’s mind kept whirling. What if that knife had hit her... what if he’d meant it for Agatha....
You just saved your brother’s life, idjit, Sam’s inner Bobby interrupted, and his heart squeezed with that wry affectionate pang that always went with memories of Bobby. Quit with the what-ifs and go help save Agatha’s.
It was all Sam could do not to answer Yes, sir aloud, but he might not have managed to suppress the fleeting ghost of a smile.
As Agatha and her retinue rushed down to the front steps of the cathedral, Gil wished fervently that Agatha hadn’t left the lightning stick somewhere along the walk in from the walls, because even he couldn’t tell what this incoming craft was. By the time Violetta arrived with the Winchesters, though, it was nearly to the cathedral.
“Where’s Tweedle?” he heard Sturmvoraus ask.
“He tried to get Dean with a Nullabist knife,” Violetta replied. “Last mistake he’ll ever make.”
Sturmvoraus sighed. “Can’t say I’m sorry, not knowing what he’d become.”
“We should stay under cover, you know.”
But it was too late. The craft landed, was challenged by Mamma Gkika, and opened to reveal Father with something spherical in his hand. The wasp eaters shrieked in unison, confirming Sturmvoraus’ theory that Father had been wasped. Mamma attacked, but Father didn’t flinch, and when she demanded his surrender, he agreed-and reached to punch some sort of button on the spherical device.
Which exploded in a burst of white light as a brass fist closed over it.
Singed but evidently otherwise unhurt, Father startled back and looked up. “What-what-”
“I am Gadreel,” announced the clank-wearing angel. “I am an angel of the Lord. And you are not yourself. Allow me.” He moved his hand to the back of Father’s neck and caused it to glow again. Father choked and gagged... and finally coughed the slaver wasp into Gadreel’s other hand, whereupon Gadreel swiftly crushed the wasp.
Sturmvoraus let out a low whistle of appreciation. Everyone else, including Gil, was staring openmouthed. Well, except for the Winchesters, who didn’t seem shocked at all by what Gadreel had done.
“Klaus, listen to me,” Gadreel continued. “You have not yet seen the full truth.”
That broke Father’s shock, which boiled over into anger. “The full truth? The full truth?! I’ll show you the truth about this girl you serve!” And he ran toward Agatha.
“Father, stop!” Gil cried.
“Stand, all!” Gadreel thundered. “Sam, she is possessed!”
No sooner had Gadreel finished his warning than Father snatched off Agatha’s locket. Agatha cried out-and her stance changed as Lucrezia shrieked, “KLAUS!”
But Dean grabbed her, and Gadreel hauled Father backward down the steps as Sam began chanting, “Exorcisamus te, omnis immundus spiritus....”
“She’s not-” Sturmvoraus began.
But Gil, sensing some kind of power building, slapped the back of a hand against his old school-fellow’s chest. “Shut up. It might work.”
“I don’t know who you think you are,” Lucrezia snarled, “but this little experiment of yours has no chance of working.”
“Says you,” Dean retorted. “Didn’t even need a devil’s trap to stop you.”
“Not a devil. A goddess.” She writhed in his grasp, as if Sam’s chant were actually hurting her. “And if... if you get rid of me... the girl dies!”
“... audi nos,” Sam finished.
With a wail and a crackle of electricity, a cloud of grey mist shot out of Agatha and into the air, leaving Agatha slumped semi-conscious in Dean’s arms. It flickered briefly into the form of Lucrezia Mongfish a couple of times, then raced toward Father.
“ZEKE!” Dean bellowed.
Suddenly Gadreel had a silver short sword in his hand and was between Father and Lucrezia. The cloud shot lightning at the clank, but somehow Gadreel had gained enough control over the clank that the lightning had no effect. He swung his sword through the cloud, and it exploded in a shower of sparks.
In the stunned silence that followed, Gil could just barely hear Dean murmur to himself, “I gotta think of somethin’ else to call him....”
That snapped Gil out of it enough to turn to Agatha. “Are you all right?”
Agatha nodded wearily and straightened. “Be fine once I get some cake.”
“That won’t be the end of The Other,” Sturmvoraus noted. “We still have to find the versions in Anevka and Zola and destroy the beacon engine and all of the slaver engines, plus whatever else she might have stashed away in hidden lairs we don’t know about. That’ll be-”
Father suddenly gasped loudly and clutched at his chest. “Gil!”
Sam ran to steady him. “Hey, whoa, Baron, you okay?”
“The wasp,” Father wheezed. “Toxin.”
“Gadreel can-”
Father looked at Gil and shook his head. “No. No healing. It’s time. Sorry, son... notes... my quarters... all your questions... should be answered....”
Gil felt tears welling up in his eyes. “Father, no.”
But Father looked at Sam. “Help me... address....”
Sam swallowed hard and looked at Gadreel, who supported Father from the other side, and the two of them helped him climb the steps to stand near Gil, Agatha, and Sturmvoraus. The effort seemed to weary Father, but then he drew in a deep breath and straightened as much as he was able.
“People... of Mechanicsburg,” he declared, “my son Gilgamesh... is my heir. To him I leave... all my wo-... worldly goods. I also he-... hereby acknowledge... Lady Agatha... as the Heterodyne... and Prince Ta-... Tarvek Sturmvoraus... as rightful heir... to the throne... of the Storm King. To these vassals... and my son... I leave my empire... in good hands.” That pronouncement delivered, he slumped against Sam again, more heavily.
Gil and Agatha hurried to his side. “Herr Baron,” Agatha said, “I’m so terribly sorry....”
Father snorted and smiled. “Sorry. Your father’d... be proud.” Then he looked Gil in the eye and added, “As proud... as I am... of you.”
And then he was gone.
Gil found himself hugging Agatha and watching in silence as Gadreel lifted Father’s body and carried it into the cathedral. There’d be no resurrections this time-even if Father hadn’t forbidden it, he’d died too publicly for it to be kept secret or passed off as rumor. This was real, and it was final.
“Hey,” said Sam gently. “At least he died free.”
Gil nodded slowly. “Yes. He did.”
After another moment, Agatha sniffled and pulled away, wiped the tears off her face, and turned to the crowd. “As befits a friend of the Heterodyne Family,” she stated, “the late Baron Wulfenbach will lie in state in the cathedral until such time as his remains can be transferred to Wulfenbach for burial.”
“Thank you,” Gil whispered to her. Then he cleared his throat and addressed the crowd himself. “Friends of Mechanicsburg, this town will remain under the protection of the empire, but I am pleased to return its governance to the Lady Heterodyne. Today should have been a day for rejoicing; for more than myself, it is also a day for mourning. Alas, in war, we have too little time for either. Prince Tarvek and I must return at once to Sturmhalten, to see to his coronation, to restore order, and to gain better intelligence on the remaining copies of The Other still at large. I shall return to Mechanicsburg in peace, however, for here I leave my father... and my heart.”
People were still trying to figure out whether to cheer when someone inside the cathedral called, “Sam! Dean!”
Everyone near the doors turned just as a thin man with curly dark hair and a younger Oriental man with his arms full of... something came running out. Both were dressed in the same manner as the Winchesters.
Dean frowned. “Cas! Kevin! What the hell are you guys doin’ here?”
Next
Chapter 3
The Bunker and the Cathedral
Four days crawled by after Kevin’s discovery in the garage-and he was sure of that only because Cas called at the end of each day to check on him. After his first day’s research on the brass thing, however, Cas recommended that he go back to working on the angel tablet translation. He did so but completely ran aground on the section regarding the spell Metatron had used. It wasn’t just difficult, as the earlier sections and the demon tablet had been; it was outright impossible. He’d somehow managed to get it transliterated into Proto-Elamite, but that language was so long dead, even the Men of Letters didn’t have an actual English dictionary. And he had the nagging suspicion that Metatron had encrypted this section deliberately.
Crowley was available, of course. He made sure to call out every time Kevin passed the storeroom that hid the dungeon. And granted, Kevin was worried about Sam and Dean, not to mention lonely and not a little put out at still being stuck in this situation after all this time. But Cas had warned him not to go near the captive King of Hell, and though it took every ounce of self-discipline Kevin had, he did not give in to the temptation even to go into the storeroom. He still remembered the last time he’d gone in to see Crowley alone and somehow let himself be goaded into beating the demon savagely. He wasn’t proud of that, and he wasn’t going to let it happen again.
Finally, however, Cas called to let Kevin know when and where to meet his bus from somewhere in Idaho. The former angel’s gravelly voice sounded even rougher and more tired than usual, so Kevin wasn’t terribly surprised to find Cas at the bus station with his arm in a sling and circles under his blue eyes that were almost as dark as his disheveled hair. It was a good thing Cas hadn’t tried to drive, if he even knew how. Kevin did, and the car Dean had ‘appropriated’ for him before sending him to the bunker the first time was still in good working order, so getting to the bus station hadn’t been a problem, even though it was over ninety miles from Lebanon. (Putting the bunker near the geographic center of the US might have been good security on the Men of Letters’ part, but it was terribly inconvenient to have nothing nearby but miles and miles of Kansas and Nebraska.)
“I’m all right,” was the first thing Cas said when Kevin walked up to him.
Kevin huffed. “You are a Winchester. What happened?”
“A healer angel, a Rit Zien-his name was Ephraim. He... didn’t fully understand human suffering, so he was killing those whom he deemed in need of release from their pain.” Cas flexed his splinted hand. “He nearly got the better of me.”
Kevin sighed. “C’mon. I’ll fill you in on the way. You got any bags?”
“No.” Cas stood wearily and followed Kevin to the car. “Still no sign of Sam and Dean?” he asked as they got in.
“None. I’ve got one long-shot match on the sigil on that brass thing, but no more than that. And I’ve hit the wall on the angel tablet, too.”
Cas sighed heavily and didn’t say anything. He was asleep before they reached the city limits.
There wasn’t a good place to stop for food on the way back to the bunker, so Kevin cooked while Cas worked on the Proto-Elamite text. Just about the time the soup finished heating through, however, Cas threw down his pencil in frustration.
“What?” Kevin asked.
“The spell. It can’t be reversed. The text speaks of a secret portal that would allow the angels to return to Heaven through the back door, as it were, but it gives no location. Metatron must be the only one who knows where it is. That....” Cas hesitated, as if looking for the right phrase, before finally settling on a very nasty Enochian name.
“So what do we do?”
“First we eat. Then we find Sam and Dean.”
After they ate, Kevin led Cas to the library, where his laptop was set up beside Sam’s. “Like I said,” he began, “this is a pretty long shot. The brass thing seems to be completely inert now-I mean, it’s not like I have any kind of scanner to check for energy traces, but it hasn’t done anything even when I’ve picked it up. The only clue was the emblem on one of the pieces.”
“Yes, the trilobite.”
“I did a reverse Google image search, and this is the closest match I could find.” Kevin pulled up the tab for the Girl Genius webcomic, open to a page that gave a clear view of the protagonist’s trilobite locket. As Cas frowned at it, Kevin continued, “I mean, I could be wrong, but-”
Cas shook his head. “No. You’re not wrong. It is the same design.” He started browsing through the comic’s archive.
“That doesn’t help us, though, does it? It sounds pretty silly to say they got sucked into a webcomic. But on the other hand... we are talking about Sam and Dean.”
“Were Gabriel alive, it might have been his idea of a joke. Then again, we can’t be sure of anything where Gabriel’s concerned.”
Kevin gave Cas an odd look, but Cas just kept skimming through the archive.
But then he stopped, and his frown deepened. “Something’s wrong with this website. It shows that there are many pages after this one, but they won’t load.”
“Maybe it’s down.”
“No, no, look, I can go back just fine. Only here”-Cas scrolled to the end of a page from late 2011, over panels of people talking about something called the Doom Bell to one with a grey gargoyle-ish figure with a weapon or hammer or something pulled back to strike, grinning evilly and thinking I love this part-“do the controls stop working, and only for going forward.” He demonstrated with the drop-down chapter menu, which showed another three books’ worth of material and part of a fourth but wouldn’t respond when he clicked on any of those chapters.
Kevin gave him a sidelong look. “You’re not seriously saying there’s a universe out there where this comic is real.”
“There’s at least one universe where our lives are a television show. I once arranged for Sam and Dean to be sent there to distract Raphael.”
Kevin blinked several times. “Wow. Okay. Wow.” He rubbed at his forehead to try to stave off the headache he felt coming on, but as he did so, a fragment of memory came back. “Wait. Doom Bell. There was a really loud noise-like, the walls shook. I thought something had blown up. But... now that I think about it... it was more sustained, like... like a huge, deep bell.”
Now it was Cas’ turn to give an odd look. “There’s quite a difference-”
“I know that. Look, I told you I’d been sick. I was pretty messed up at the time. And it’s not like it was close. I thought it was, like, on the other side of the bunker or something.”
Cas sighed and tried again to navigate forward. When he continued to fail, he sighed again. “It’s our only lead. I suppose we should start from the beginning to learn everything we can.” And he hit the button to go back to the first page.
“Cas, that was the end of Volume Eleven. It’ll probably take us several days to get through the whole series. And it’s nearly midnight. Let’s do this in the morning.”
Cas started to object but was interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn. “Perhaps we should. I’m... I’m sorry, Kevin. I’m still not used to being human.”
Kevin couldn’t help smiling a little at that. “That’s okay. C’mon. Dean’s probably got some pajamas you can borrow.”
Cas carefully shut the laptop, and Kevin led him to Dean’s bedroom before going to change for bed himself. When he came back a few minutes later, however, he found Cas, still dressed, sacked out on Dean’s bed. He shook his head sadly and left Cas there.
Morning found Cas taking another crack at the tablet translation, though he wouldn’t tell Kevin up front what he’d discovered. Instead, after breakfast, he insisted on trying to find just a synopsis of Girl Genius. “The Winchesters have already been gone for two weeks,” he hedged when Kevin questioned the need for haste. “The city in the comic appeared to be under attack. They may need our help.”
Kevin threw up his hands. “Okay, fine. Suit yourself. I don’t know what good we’ll do two weeks later, but-”
“Time may pass differently there than here. At least, they were in the television universe for three days but came back the same night they left, not even an hour after their disappearance. And it looked like full conversations sometimes took days, if not weeks, to appear on the website, so for Sam and Dean, only a few hours may have passed.”
Feeling another headache coming on, Kevin sighed and followed Cas to the library. He had to be the one to run the search, though, since Cas hadn’t yet mastered how to type one-handed. Wikipedia came to the rescue... but just about at the point describing the siege of Mechanicsburg, the page suddenly wouldn’t continue scrolling down.
“Hrm,” said Kevin. “Guess that means it isn’t just one website that’s glitching.”
“Kevin,” Cas asked gravely, still staring at the screen, “what ties do you still have here that would prevent your permanent disappearance?”
“... Uh, well, Crowley’s still chained up in the dungeon, and Dean would probably want us to leave the key with someone. Why?”
“We need to follow the Winchesters.”
“But it sounds like Agatha-”
“No. Not for their sake.” Cas finally looked Kevin in the eye. “The portal to Heaven is closed, and Metatron cannot simply open it at will. The angel tablet confers great power upon any angel who holds it. To open the portal, an angel must possess the tablet-and kill the prophet who bears it.”
Kevin gulped. “B-but as long as I’m here....”
Cas shook his head. “Metatron is as devious as Crowley is. And he knows you. Worse, because he was the Scribe and you are the prophet, he has a connection to you through the tablets. The only way we can be absolutely certain that he cannot reach you is to take both you and the tablets to another world.”
Not for the first time, Kevin wished he’d never heard of Sam and Dean. Yet he couldn’t fault the logic. “So, uh... how do we....”
“First we tie up our last loose ends, starting with Crowley. Killing him would be the most expedient option, but that would leave Abaddon free to rule Hell her own way, which is even less acceptable.”
“But we can’t just let him go. So what do we do with him?”
Cas smiled a little. “Have you ever been to confession?”
An hour later, both fully shriven, prophet and ex-angel walked into the dungeon, armed with syringes. And the black-suited British demon looked rather relieved to see them.
“Hallo, boys,” Crowley said with his usual smug smirk. “Castiel. Planning on becoming one of Hell’s Angels?” he added, looking pointedly at the Triumph Motorcycles shirt Cas had borrowed from Dean’s collection. “Considering Heaven doesn’t want you anymore, might be a decent career change.”
Cas didn’t reply. Instead, he simply jabbed his syringe-containing a hefty dose of his now-purified blood-into Crowley’s neck and injected the whole amount. While Crowley was still gasping for breath, Kevin did the same from the opposite side.
The double whammy left Crowley pale, breathless, and glassy-eyed. “What... what are you....”
Cas pulled out a pocket knife, grasped it as best he could in his splinted hand, and cut open his other palm, a superficial cut but deep enough and long enough to bleed freely. Then he recited the exorcism that a priest had altered to cure demons and pressed the cut against Crowley’s mouth. Crowley sucked at the cut noisily... and the demon-binding chains fell off of him.
“Cas... what... why....”
“We’re letting you go,” Cas stated, backing away and holding out his hand for Kevin to bandage.
“Letting me-” Crowley’s eyes cleared suddenly, and he leaned forward. “Moose and Squirrel. What’s happened to Moose and Squirrel?”
“That doesn’t concern you now.”
“What happened?!”
“They’re alive, so far as we know.”
Crowley ran a shaking hand over his mouth. “Did... did they go to Oz? They killed the Wicked Witch, you know, or that little ginger friend of theirs did.”
Cas frowned, but Kevin did have a vague memory of Dean saying something on the way back from Branson about having discovered Dorothy Baum and the Wicked Witch of the West in some kind of magical stasis and having Charlie Bradbury’s help in dispatching the witch. Charlie had gone to Oz with Dorothy afterward, using a key that had been stashed in the Men of Letters’ archives. “No,” Kevin stated. “Pretty sure Dorothy took the key with her.”
“But they’re gone. And you’re going after them. And-and you don’t even care that Abaddon’s running roughshod over everything I’ve built....”
“Actually, we do. That’s why we cured you rather than killing you.”
“How is turning me human going to solve anything?”
“Well, for one thing, it makes it easier to do this.” Kevin reached into his pocket, recited an Enochian spell, and blew a handful of chamomile into Crowley’s face, knocking him out.
Gingerly, and with Kevin’s help, Cas got Crowley situated across his shoulders in a fireman’s carry and followed Kevin out of the dungeon and up to the garage. There they settled Crowley in the back seat, piled into the front seat themselves, and drove around semi-aimlessly until Crowley came to somewhere outside Hebron, Nebraska.
“Well,” he groaned as he sat up. “Good one, Kev. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Shut up,” Kevin growled.
“No, really. Professional opinion. Mother was a witch.”
Kevin gritted his teeth and kept driving, looking for a town. Once they reached one, he pulled over. “Get out,” he ordered Crowley.
Crowley frowned. “This is it? No ‘Goodbye, good luck, thanks for all the help, Crowley’? Thought we were besties.”
“After you killed my mother? I don’t think so.”
Crowley deflated a little. “Kevin... I lied. Your mother’s alive.”
“What?!”
“Kevin,” Cas cautioned.
Crowley shook his head. “Trust me or don’t, but-don’t let it stop you. We may yet need Sam and Dean to stop Abaddon, not to mention whatever this is that’s gone on with the angels. Find them, you two. Linda, she’s... I’ll... I’ll look after her, make sure she gets home.”
Kevin swallowed hard. “If you’re telling the truth... tell her I’m sorry and I love her and... goodbye.”
“I shall.” Crowley started to open the car door, hesitated, then thought better of whatever he was going to say and got out.
Kevin drove away as soon as the door closed again, stopping in town for gas and then taking another road out of town to avoid Crowley while still getting back to the highway. During the gas stop, Cas used Dean’s phone to make a call Kevin didn’t overhear. They also stopped in Mankato for groceries, since supplies were running low, and went back to the bunker to rest for a few hours.
Late that evening, there was a knock at the bunker door. Cas went to answer it and returned with a dark-haired lady in a sheriff’s uniform.
“You must be Kevin,” she said before Cas could say anything and offered Kevin her hand. “Sheriff Jody Mills, Minnehaha County, South Dakota.”
Kevin blinked as he shook her hand. “South Dakota?”
“Sioux Falls. I... knew Bobby Singer. That’s how I know Sam and Dean.”
“Oh. Hi.” Kevin had known Bobby only as a ghost, and that only very briefly between the time he’d been activated as a prophet and the time Bobby had asked the Winchesters to burn the flask to which his spirit was tied. But he’d heard enough since then to know that Sam and Dean had viewed Bobby as a second father, and it sounded like Sheriff Mills had been fond of him, too.
She drew in a ragged breath and turned to Cas. “Now, Castiel, what have you done to yourself?”
Cas bristled. “You’re not my mother.”
“No, but you’re one of Bobby’s boys, and I’ll mother you if I want.”
“Sam and Dean-”
“Aren’t here. You told me. But I am not making a sixteen-hour round-trip drive just to pick up a stupid key. I’m here for the night, and you’re beat to hell. C’mere.”
Kevin resolutely did not laugh as Cas submitted with bad grace to the sheriff checking his bandages and otherwise making sure he wasn’t killing himself. They both agreed with much more cheer to her suggestion of sandwiches and beer, though after getting so thoroughly trashed in Branson, Kevin made sure to drink only one beer and drink it slowly. He slept like a log and woke up feeling pretty normal, so the tactic apparently worked. After a hearty breakfast, Sheriff Mills had Kevin show her around and explain what had happened to Sam and Dean. She couldn’t find any flaws in their logic or any evidence they might have missed. So she finally accepted the warded puzzle box that held the bunker key.
“You sure you don’t need this?” she asked, turning it over.
“Dean has his own key,” Kevin replied. “I think Sam does, too. Anyway, if-w-we can use their keys if we need to.”
She nodded slowly, visibly steeled herself to say goodbye, and gave Kevin and Cas each a hug before leaving.
As the door closed, Kevin took a deep breath and let it out again. “And now?”
Cas turned back to the library. “Now we research.”
The Heterodyne girl. Lucrezia. She was loose. She was dangerous. She was winning. And just as Bill had been, Gil was too in love with her to see sense.
Klaus had had a plan: corner Gil, convince him that he’d been wasped, and persuade him-by fair means or foul-to accept treatment. Said treatment was to consist of Klaus’ own version of behavior-modifying mind control, ensuring that Gil would serve the empire and not Lucrezia. Phase 2 would be to send Gil to capture Lucrezia. Failing that, but assuming Gil returned to Castle Wulfenbach unharmed, and if Lucrezia or the Knights of Jove somehow managed to turn the tide of the battle, Klaus would see to it that Gil remained behind on Castle Wulfenbach as the empire’s forces retreated... and go deal with Mechanicsburg himself.
It had been a good plan, as far as it went, even allowing for the eventuality of Castle Heterodyne being repaired. Especially if the Knights of Jove remained in Mechanicsburg to see Lucrezia installed as the Heterodyne, Klaus would be able to neutralize the empire’s biggest threats all at once and be freed of the burden of command at the same time. Robur Heterodyne had mentioned some kind of unforeseen consequences in his notes regarding his own experiments along this line, but Klaus didn’t have the luxury of worrying about them. If Lucrezia could wasp him, she could enslave all of Europa and leave no one the wiser. He couldn’t take that risk.
There was only one problem. No one could find Gil.
Oh, someone had spotted a flying machine leaving Castle Wulfenbach bound for the mountains, and scouts had found the machine wrecked-but no body. There was a rumor of another flyer seen heading toward Mechanicsburg, but it was impossible to tell whether it were true or whether the direction reported had been mistaken. If Dupree ever came to after having been apparently poisoned, she might be able to tell Klaus more, but he couldn’t afford to wait. The consequences of letting Lucrezia take full command of Mechanicsburg would be unconscionable. He had already given his orders... orders he was now second-guessing.
He just didn’t know if he dared risk the possibility of Gil being in Mechanicsburg himself. By some reports, Gil had a better rapport with the Jägers than Klaus himself did; they might well have smuggled him back into town if they knew of his affection for the Heterodyne girl. Could Klaus justify this desperate move, knowing that it could leave the empire without a leader?
Princess Anevka met him in the hall leading to the central vault. “Why, Herr Baron! Whatever is the matter?”
“Gil,” he growled. “Confound that boy....”
“Oh, dear. He’s probably gone back to that Agatha girl, just like my brother. This is terrible! You know what Gil and Tarvek are capable of on their own. If they join forces in the service of The Other, they could unleash untold evil across Europa!”
Yes... hadn’t he feared so himself? But he couldn’t be sure....
“There’s only one solution.” She put both hands on his shoulders. “Klaus. Destroy Mechanicsburg.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he breathed and went on his way with new resolve.
As both the storm and the siege lifted, Sam was still seething over what Dean had done to him, tricking him into accepting possession like that. Miracles were never free for Winchesters; in fact, they usually had an unacceptably high cost. Like, world-endingly high, or at least a life for a life. Maybe the cheapest was when Cas saved Sam’s sanity at the (temporary) cost of his own. Sam hadn’t wanted to die, exactly, but he hadn’t wanted anyone else to get hurt.
Yeah, he had a niggling sense that Cas and Charlie were alive because of Gadreel, and yeah, Gadreel had been helping out with the siege. That didn’t change the fact that Sam hadn’t known what he was agreeing to when he agreed to let Dean save him. And it didn’t change the fact that Dean had trusted someone who had lied about his identity. They were damn lucky it hadn’t come back to bite them-yet.
Driving off the ram had taken the edge off his annoyance. He and Dean were still going to have to talk about this at some point. Dean seemed to be in Hate me all you want, as long as you’re alive to do it mode, which a) was far too much like Dad for comfort and b) seemed to Sam to miss the point altogether. The problem wasn’t that Dean had saved his life; the problem was that he’d lied. And big brother prerogative didn’t give him carte blanche, not on this score.
Sam was still brooding over the situation as Team Heterodyne (he had no idea what to call anyone, since they were all younger than he but also various ranks of nobility) trooped down from the walls and started toward the cathedral, accompanied by a pack of eight-legged weasels and followed by what seemed like half the town. Von Blitzengaard rode up just as they were starting away from the gate, but Lady Agatha declined to ride with him... especially since she could summon Franz with a snap of her fingers if she needed to show off, which reminded Sam way too much of Gabriel. Besides, she was flanked by both of her potential boyfriends and had both Winchesters as her rearguard, which somewhat obviated the need for von Blitzengaard to serve even as a bodyguard (and for the Winchesters to acknowledge him as the king he claimed to be).
As the group arrived at the cathedral, Wul-Gil-Wulfenbach caught Sam’s eye and nodded toward von Blitzengaard. Assuming that meant he wanted Sam to watch von Blitzengaard, Sam nodded back and silently relayed the request to Dean, who snorted quietly and nodded once. Wulfenbach went ahead with Lady Agatha and her seneschal, Vanamonde von Mekkhan, while Prince Tarvek fell back to walk beside von Blitzengaard, who cut in behind Lady Agatha.
At that, Dean glanced at Prince Tarvek and raised an eyebrow at Sam-We’d better keep an eye on him, too.
Sam raised both eyebrows in agreement. Dean had evidently spent more time with Prince Tarvek after Wulfenbach had sent the prince back to Lady Agatha, but from what little Sam had seen and overheard, he wasn’t trustworthy. His affection for Lady Agatha might be genuine, but he seemed to be on no one’s side except his own.
Thus it was that the Winchesters sat behind the rival claimants to the throne of the Storm King while Lady Agatha underwent whatever ceremonies needed to be performed to secure her accession to her title. Although most people were focused on her, Sam could clearly hear the argument Prince Tarvek and von Blitzengaard were hissing at each other over both Agatha and their own relative claims. And just as everyone else got up to start toward another part of the cathedral, von Blitzengaard muttered something to himself that Sam didn’t quite catch but Dean clearly did.
“Not so fast, Your High-and-mightiness,” Dean rumbled quietly, pressing the barrel of his handgun against the base of von Blitzengaard’s skull. “We need to talk.”
Von Blitzengaard growled softly but stayed put until the rest of the group had moved off. Then he began, “Listen, you upstart American-”
“No, you listen, Tweedle-dum. Your nun girlfriend tried to take Wulfenbach hostage, and now Tarheel thinks you’ll try to replace Agatha. What the hell are you actually doing here?”
“You dare question me? I am the Storm King!”
“Wulfenbach says you’re not,” Sam retorted. “He would know, given who his father is-and he’s some sort of prince himself.”
“You lie! Klaus Wulfenbach is a baron, a usurper, nothing more. He has no ties to the Fifty Families. We would know if he did!”
“Well, it sounded like it was news to his son, too. But you still haven’t answered our question.”
“I do not answer to you, peasant.”
Dean chuckled unpleasantly. “Then we’ll just sit right here until you change your mind. Or maybe you’ll answer to somebody else-like Agatha.”
Sam suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Von Blitzengaard didn’t move a muscle, but Sam could tell he was about to try something and tensed, watching von Blitzengaard’s hands.
“Van!” a male voice called from outside. “Lady Heterodyne! Something’s coming!”
Von Blitzengaard reached for something in his coat, and Sam pounced, knocking Dean aside. In the ensuing struggle, von Blitzengaard tried to throw a knife at Dean, but Sam grabbed the hilt-and quite by accident, the blade slashed through von Blitzengaard’s shirt and drew blood. The would-be king gave a gurgling gasp and collapsed, seemingly paralyzed.
Dean sat up, swearing. “What the hell did you do?”
“I don’t know!” Sam returned. “It was an accident!”
Violetta, Lady Agatha’s bodyguard and Prince Tarvek’s cousin, came running. “What happened?”
“He tried to throw a knife at Dean. I fought him for it-was it poisoned?”
“Y-yes,” von Blitzengaard gasped. “M-my own... no cure....”
Dean’s eyes widened. “Oh, good job, Laertes. Real smooth.” At Sam’s double-take at the Hamlet reference, he added, “What? I read.”
Violetta pulled some kind of test kit out of her utility belt, but von Blitzengaard gasped, “Don’t... bother... it was... Nullabist....”
“What?!” she exploded. “Tweedle, you swore you’d given up those things!”
“H-h-have now,” von Blitzengaard replied and breathed his last.
She swore and looked around, then spotted one of the mummy-like undead that seemed to inhabit the cathedral and pointed to it. “YOU! Get a coffin for this idiot right away-he’ll be decomposing in about thirty minutes!”
The mummy rasped some kind of affirmative and shuffled off to dispose of von Blitzengaard’s mortal coil. And Sam decided he really needed to stop thinking about Hamlet.
Dean frowned. “Thirty minutes?”
Violetta nodded. “It causes such severe contamination that the body liquefies. That’s why it’s called Nullabist-there’s nothing left.”
Both brothers swore and looked at each other with wide eyes. Von Blitzengaard had tried to use that on Dean. If Sam hadn’t been there, hadn’t been watching, hadn’t been faster....
“Hey!” she snapped, drawing their attention. “We need to get back to Agatha. There’s some kind of Wulfenbach craft coming in fast.”
Nothing more needed to be said, and the three of them headed for the cathedral’s front door. Still, Sam’s mind kept whirling. What if that knife had hit her... what if he’d meant it for Agatha....
You just saved your brother’s life, idjit, Sam’s inner Bobby interrupted, and his heart squeezed with that wry affectionate pang that always went with memories of Bobby. Quit with the what-ifs and go help save Agatha’s.
It was all Sam could do not to answer Yes, sir aloud, but he might not have managed to suppress the fleeting ghost of a smile.
As Agatha and her retinue rushed down to the front steps of the cathedral, Gil wished fervently that Agatha hadn’t left the lightning stick somewhere along the walk in from the walls, because even he couldn’t tell what this incoming craft was. By the time Violetta arrived with the Winchesters, though, it was nearly to the cathedral.
“Where’s Tweedle?” he heard Sturmvoraus ask.
“He tried to get Dean with a Nullabist knife,” Violetta replied. “Last mistake he’ll ever make.”
Sturmvoraus sighed. “Can’t say I’m sorry, not knowing what he’d become.”
“We should stay under cover, you know.”
But it was too late. The craft landed, was challenged by Mamma Gkika, and opened to reveal Father with something spherical in his hand. The wasp eaters shrieked in unison, confirming Sturmvoraus’ theory that Father had been wasped. Mamma attacked, but Father didn’t flinch, and when she demanded his surrender, he agreed-and reached to punch some sort of button on the spherical device.
Which exploded in a burst of white light as a brass fist closed over it.
Singed but evidently otherwise unhurt, Father startled back and looked up. “What-what-”
“I am Gadreel,” announced the clank-wearing angel. “I am an angel of the Lord. And you are not yourself. Allow me.” He moved his hand to the back of Father’s neck and caused it to glow again. Father choked and gagged... and finally coughed the slaver wasp into Gadreel’s other hand, whereupon Gadreel swiftly crushed the wasp.
Sturmvoraus let out a low whistle of appreciation. Everyone else, including Gil, was staring openmouthed. Well, except for the Winchesters, who didn’t seem shocked at all by what Gadreel had done.
“Klaus, listen to me,” Gadreel continued. “You have not yet seen the full truth.”
That broke Father’s shock, which boiled over into anger. “The full truth? The full truth?! I’ll show you the truth about this girl you serve!” And he ran toward Agatha.
“Father, stop!” Gil cried.
“Stand, all!” Gadreel thundered. “Sam, she is possessed!”
No sooner had Gadreel finished his warning than Father snatched off Agatha’s locket. Agatha cried out-and her stance changed as Lucrezia shrieked, “KLAUS!”
But Dean grabbed her, and Gadreel hauled Father backward down the steps as Sam began chanting, “Exorcisamus te, omnis immundus spiritus....”
“She’s not-” Sturmvoraus began.
But Gil, sensing some kind of power building, slapped the back of a hand against his old school-fellow’s chest. “Shut up. It might work.”
“I don’t know who you think you are,” Lucrezia snarled, “but this little experiment of yours has no chance of working.”
“Says you,” Dean retorted. “Didn’t even need a devil’s trap to stop you.”
“Not a devil. A goddess.” She writhed in his grasp, as if Sam’s chant were actually hurting her. “And if... if you get rid of me... the girl dies!”
“... audi nos,” Sam finished.
With a wail and a crackle of electricity, a cloud of grey mist shot out of Agatha and into the air, leaving Agatha slumped semi-conscious in Dean’s arms. It flickered briefly into the form of Lucrezia Mongfish a couple of times, then raced toward Father.
“ZEKE!” Dean bellowed.
Suddenly Gadreel had a silver short sword in his hand and was between Father and Lucrezia. The cloud shot lightning at the clank, but somehow Gadreel had gained enough control over the clank that the lightning had no effect. He swung his sword through the cloud, and it exploded in a shower of sparks.
In the stunned silence that followed, Gil could just barely hear Dean murmur to himself, “I gotta think of somethin’ else to call him....”
That snapped Gil out of it enough to turn to Agatha. “Are you all right?”
Agatha nodded wearily and straightened. “Be fine once I get some cake.”
“That won’t be the end of The Other,” Sturmvoraus noted. “We still have to find the versions in Anevka and Zola and destroy the beacon engine and all of the slaver engines, plus whatever else she might have stashed away in hidden lairs we don’t know about. That’ll be-”
Father suddenly gasped loudly and clutched at his chest. “Gil!”
Sam ran to steady him. “Hey, whoa, Baron, you okay?”
“The wasp,” Father wheezed. “Toxin.”
“Gadreel can-”
Father looked at Gil and shook his head. “No. No healing. It’s time. Sorry, son... notes... my quarters... all your questions... should be answered....”
Gil felt tears welling up in his eyes. “Father, no.”
But Father looked at Sam. “Help me... address....”
Sam swallowed hard and looked at Gadreel, who supported Father from the other side, and the two of them helped him climb the steps to stand near Gil, Agatha, and Sturmvoraus. The effort seemed to weary Father, but then he drew in a deep breath and straightened as much as he was able.
“People... of Mechanicsburg,” he declared, “my son Gilgamesh... is my heir. To him I leave... all my wo-... worldly goods. I also he-... hereby acknowledge... Lady Agatha... as the Heterodyne... and Prince Ta-... Tarvek Sturmvoraus... as rightful heir... to the throne... of the Storm King. To these vassals... and my son... I leave my empire... in good hands.” That pronouncement delivered, he slumped against Sam again, more heavily.
Gil and Agatha hurried to his side. “Herr Baron,” Agatha said, “I’m so terribly sorry....”
Father snorted and smiled. “Sorry. Your father’d... be proud.” Then he looked Gil in the eye and added, “As proud... as I am... of you.”
And then he was gone.
Gil found himself hugging Agatha and watching in silence as Gadreel lifted Father’s body and carried it into the cathedral. There’d be no resurrections this time-even if Father hadn’t forbidden it, he’d died too publicly for it to be kept secret or passed off as rumor. This was real, and it was final.
“Hey,” said Sam gently. “At least he died free.”
Gil nodded slowly. “Yes. He did.”
After another moment, Agatha sniffled and pulled away, wiped the tears off her face, and turned to the crowd. “As befits a friend of the Heterodyne Family,” she stated, “the late Baron Wulfenbach will lie in state in the cathedral until such time as his remains can be transferred to Wulfenbach for burial.”
“Thank you,” Gil whispered to her. Then he cleared his throat and addressed the crowd himself. “Friends of Mechanicsburg, this town will remain under the protection of the empire, but I am pleased to return its governance to the Lady Heterodyne. Today should have been a day for rejoicing; for more than myself, it is also a day for mourning. Alas, in war, we have too little time for either. Prince Tarvek and I must return at once to Sturmhalten, to see to his coronation, to restore order, and to gain better intelligence on the remaining copies of The Other still at large. I shall return to Mechanicsburg in peace, however, for here I leave my father... and my heart.”
People were still trying to figure out whether to cheer when someone inside the cathedral called, “Sam! Dean!”
Everyone near the doors turned just as a thin man with curly dark hair and a younger Oriental man with his arms full of... something came running out. Both were dressed in the same manner as the Winchesters.
Dean frowned. “Cas! Kevin! What the hell are you guys doin’ here?”
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