Ancient Words - Ch. 9 "The Strong and the Weak" Pt 1
Title/Chapter: Ancient Words - Ch. 9 - "The Strong and the Weak"
Author: Supernatural Mommy
Characters: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings
Spoilers: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to Nightmare
Warnings: PG-13 now, R overall for adult themes. This chapter heavy religious references: Overall rated for language, violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture) hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this story uses lots of religious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em *pity*, but new characters are my own creation.
Summary: The Winchesters and their friends face ferocious attack.
Author's Notes: Sequel to Look Into His Eyes. Please read through my author's notes Here (from first chapter) and Here (Chapter listing and summary with some minor plot spoilers) Previous chapters are at my journal.
Author’s Notes 2: IMPORTANT! This chapter deals with sensitive subject matters and may not be suitable for all readers. This includes a non-graphic depiction of rape and lots of religious elements.
Chapter 9 The Strong and the Weak
Dean came to awareness with a sense of confusion and near-panic.
Something more realistic than a dream was happening here, his body wouldn’t wake up, obey any of his commands. Panic built as he remembered the danger they had all been facing. He was shot . . .he remembered, and, damn, but that hurt . . .
He was still conscious then, but everything was a blur. Except Bobby, leaning over him, talking softly in his broken Bobby-words. And he distinctly remembered seeing a fierce angel dude, because that image couldn’t be forgotten. That, though, that had to be a mirage of some sort. Because really, seriously...an angel? No way.
He turned his thoughts to the here and now.
This wasn’t an out of body experience, at least he was pretty sure it wasn’t. There was a great expanse of nothingness all around him, and it was unnerving. Flashes of pain would come to him, reminding him of his broken body.
Great.
He was stuck in limbo land.
He rolled his eyes, pausing to look around when he felt a difference suddenly. He studied the nothing intently, now picking out a moving figure. It was coming towards him. And it reminded him of his imaginary angel guy. In fact - he squinted as the figure appeared closer - it was the angel dude.
He didn’t feel threatened, so he just waited for his dream dude (and that just sounded bad, didn’t it?) to come closer. Except, as the figure moved ever closer, Dean felt a prickle down his spine that told him this dream was off somehow.
“That is because this is no dream, hunter.” Dean’s mouth hung open as the...angel...spoke to him. The eyes were freaky, almost burning in their intensity, hawk-like in their study of him. Dean backed up a step.
“Then what is this?”
“This is the space between your dreams and death. An unconsciousness of sorts. Your body is close to death but your spirit still fights. It is an in-between place.” The man (it looked like a dude) studied him with watchful eyes. Dean studied him right back, taken aback when he noticed the wings.
“Are those real?” He blurted it out without thinking. He knew he should be embarrassed, but waited for an answer anyway as the angel’s face split into a huge grin.
The being unfurled the wings to their full width, perhaps eight feet worth of shimmering feathers and quivering muscles.
“Yes. They are very much real.” The voice held a hint of amusement and Dean cocked his head at him.
“That is so cool.” He turned back to business when another phantom pain shot through him.
“The pain is necessary. The time is near.”
“Near time for what?” Dean was suddenly defensive. He wasn’t about to die. His brother needed him. Annie and Bobby needed him.
“For you to return to your body.” The angel cocked his head, eyes narrowed.
Dean crossed his arms.
“So, what are you here for? Is this all some great plan of God’s - His will be done and all that crap? ‘Cause I’m not buying it...” He wasn’t sure what to make of all this cloak and dagger angelic bull . . . stuff. He raised an eyebrow. “Who are you? I mean, what do I call you?”
“My real name is unrecognizable to humans, but most refer to me as Michael, or Mika’el.” His eyes twinkled again. “You may call me Mike if you wish.”
“Mike...wait a minute...Michael...as in the archangel Michael?” Dean’s eyes grew wide again.
“We don’t use such titles, but I fight in my Lord’s army.” The angel watched Dean curiously.
“I know I’m not exactly a choir boy here.” He waited a beat, and then grew concerned about his health again. “But I sorta wasn’t looking for an escort to the pearly white gates...”
At that, Mika’el’s face shifted to a grin.
“No, child...” Dean raised an eyebrow at the angel’s endearment. “I am here to watch over you, as my brothers watch over the others. This evil you fight, his mind has twisted. He is more dangerous than ever.”
Dean leaned forward, absorbing the information, knowing instinctively the angel was speaking of Larkin.
“But . . . why?”
“This one of which you speak ... being possessed twisted his natural wickedness. He desires more than before. Now he wishes to invite possession.”
“But we’ve dealt with possessions before, that still doesn’t explain why holy hitters are coming on the scene...” Dean ran a hand through his hair and then once again crossed his arms.
“The one, he desires the possession. But the one who would possess him, that one desires much more.” Dean’s eyes widened.
“You telling me Larkin’s looking to be possessed? And if that happens, his new demon pal is gonna . . . what? Give us all a headache? Try to take over the world?” That just sounded like so much fun. Dean shook his head.
“It is possible, and right now is not part of God’s will.”
“Right now?” Dean caught the insinuation.
“Free will ... hunter. In this realm, it comes down to free will. What man does, and what evil does, is rarely stopped completely by the Lord.” At Dean’s incredulous look, he continued. “Instead, he uses certain chosen ones in earth, and his own army, to ensure that whatever happens may be shaped into His always shifting plan.”
“If he has the power to stop it, why doesn’t he.” Dean’s question was angry, resentful almost. The angel sighed patiently, as though the question was asked of him often.
“His reasons are beyond the understanding of humans, even beyond my own understanding sometimes.” The angel regarded him gravely, his eyes shimmering as though he were holding back tears. “Now, you have limited time, and there are things you must know...”
Dean tensed, face devoid of emotion, as he dropped his head, listening.
“You must remember what you have already learned and use it to find this evil. I know you protect your brother at all costs. But you must also protect the smallest one, he is the key. He must be guarded at all costs. His gifts are important to the battle...” Dean looked up.
“He’s just a boy...” The angel nodded and leaned down slightly so his face was inches from Dean’s.
“The Lord uses the smallest to bring down the mightiest, the weakest to bring down the strongest, and the strongest...sometimes...to protect them all.” His eyes held no color...they just were. Dean blinked at the fire in their depths. “Do you understand?”
“Not really, but I imagine I will soon enough...” Dean trailed off at the sharp appraisal the angel gave him. The Being nodded.
“You must be diligent. Evil will try to strike hard and strike often.” Mika’el straightened and his wings reflexively rippled. Dean gaped at the strength behind the movement. Catching himself, he closed his mouth. The angel laid a solid, comforting hand on his shoulder. The weight was welcome, the comfort undisguised. “But we will be with you all as well.”
The hand pulled away and left Dean feeling almost cold in its absence. He thought, suddenly and with a great sense of panic, of his brother and the Carvers.
“I need to get back there! They could be...they are..I’m sure..they’re already with Larkin’s men! I need to get back in there...I need to be able to fight, come up with a plan...kick some aaa - er ...butt.” The angel shook his head.
“This is not the right time. Your body must heal. But soon, no matter, you will wake. I promise, hunter.” His gaze was sincere. Dean believed him, but he didn’t like it. He belonged out there; he needed to be fighting right now. The angel again seemed to sense the direction of his thoughts. “Do not worry, hunter. I know well the impatience you feel to fight. But you must also know there is always a proper time for striking. Now is not that time. It is instead time to marshal your strength.”
Dean nodded, preoccupied with the thought of battle. When he looked up to meet the angel’s eyes again, he stepped back. The heavenly being had drawn up to his full height, his wings unfurled in full splendor. He glowed with power.
“It is time. You will return to your body now, child.” Dean raised an eyebrow...this dude sure liked to drop the kiddie names. “I will be with you, even when you do not see me.”
With his parting words, the angel disappeared and Dean blinked, still disbelieving.
Angels. Pretty soon someone would tell him vampires were real too. He smirked.
Soon he was fading from this in between place, and falling into nightmarish dreams.
*******************************************
Andy
He was awake when they brought in his roommate: Well, fellow prisoner.
Unsure how long he had even been here, Andy only knew he’d been awake a short while before hearing the door open and the sounds of someone being dragged in. Several long minutes later, their captors left the room and he concentrated on the person across the room from him.
Blindfolded as he was, that was difficult.
He roughly scraped the side of his face against his shoulder and felt the blindfold move marginally. He kept at it, and though the side of his face felt like it now had a rug burn, his eyes were clear. It took a moment to adjust to the darkness in the room. When he did, he studied the form across the room. Slumped over as it was, it was difficult to tell who it was, although he felt something familiar about the mop of brown hair that fell in disarray across the forehead.
Sam?
He squinted into the darkness. It looked like it might be Sam. But he was so still. And pale. What was wrong with him? His eyes widened when it hit him suddenly. The dark trail down the side of the man’s face told him.
Sam had been knocked unconscious.
Andy tried to remember, finding himself more worried when he realized that the blood covered the same side that had already been wounded. He found himself shaking for the young man when he remembered the seizures that previous injury had caused. This could be bad. Very bad.
Pray.
He smiled grimly, as if he needed an inner voice guiding that need right now. He felt almost desperate to pray. But first, this horrible gag. He went to work on the gag but the stupid thing didn’t budge. They had tied the thing so tight his mouth was numb from the pressure.
He rotated his jaw, trying to stretch the fabric of the gag first. He felt small satisfaction in the slight give of the material. Realizing that this would take a while, he drew in a deep breath and slumped his shoulders.
The movement dropped his arms and his hands rested on the floor awkwardly behind him. He purposely tried to not to think too much about how tightly his wrists were tied, and how securely.
When he had first come to, he had tried loosening the ropes binding his wrists first. He had given up in frustration after no success; the ropes were too tight and attached to the wall somehow, effectively holding him in one spot.
He turned his gaze upwards and closed his eyes, resting his head against the wall behind him.
Lord, this is quite the pickle, huh? I’m scared and I feel helpless here. I’m worried about the others, Lord. Especially Sam over there. God, he’s so helpless and he’s hurt real badly. Please protect him from his body’s condition . Oh...man...God...here he drew in a shuddering breath...
Help him, Lord. Please. I don’t know where Bobby, Annie and Dean are, but wherever they are please keep them safe Lord. At least guard their souls in this evil place. And I sure wouldn’t mind it if you would help me with these ropes...let me get over to Sam. Thank you for protecting us Lord, and I just beg you Lord...help us make it out of here.
With a sigh, he ended his informal prayer. He smiled when his wrists felt a small bit of relief. It might have just been him, but he liked to think God had listened to his selfish request.
He started working anew at his gag. He needed to try to get Sam to wake up; and he needed to be able to call for help if he started seizing.
He just hoped their captors would care.
**************************
Bobby
This was a bad place.
It felt all wrong.
He was scared. But he told Dean he would be brave. He squared his little shoulders, and tried to stop the shaking. The rocking was okay. Rocking made everything better.
His mouth hurt, from that big thing in it. And whatever covered his eyes needed to come off, it made everything so dark. And scary. But what he really didn’t like was the ropes on his hands. They hurt.
He pulled his hands up to his face and tried again to pull the thing out of his mouth, but it would not move. His mouth hurt. His eyes felt wet and he blinked against the thing over his eyes.
God, help me, please?
He sniffed and rocked more. His head hurt.
He moaned, then thought a minute and pulled his hands up to tug at what was on his eyes. It moved! He yanked it off and threw it.
It was dark here.
He blinked. Looked around.
This place was small. It looked like his closet at home. But this closet was empty. He looked at the rope on his hands. He wished it would just go away. It hurt. He looked again; there was another rope attaching his hands the wall. He yanked on the rope.
He had stopped rocking, but started again after looking around. He felt his eyes get wet again. He rubbed his cheek against his shoulder to rub the wet away. He leaned his head down and sobbed. He was scared. Annie wasn’t here. And Sam and Dean weren’t either.
And...he was scared.
He wanted to be brave, but he was scared.
He rocked, and shook, and cried.
God. I’m scared. Help me. Please. Help me! I don’t wanna be here. I wanna to go home.
He felt something different now and looked up.
He smiled through the wet in his eyes and leaned forward.
His special friend was here.
***********************************************
Jalmari
Jalmari felt tears fall from his own eyes as his charge sobbed quietly below him. Leaning his head towards heaven, he prayed for his ward. He nodded as he received the answer.
He smiled gently at the boy as he stood in front of him. And he praised God for the trusting look the child gave him when he realized he was here.
“Why are you crying, little one?” He dropped to sit beside the child and leaned forward.
“Sca’d.” The boy sniffled and tried to talk around the cloth in his mouth. Jalmari grimaced. He pulled the cloth gently from his charge’s mouth. The little one held his wrists up and showed him the ropes there. “Han’s hur’.”
The angel looked heavenward. Sadly he gazed back at the boy.
“Child, I cannot remove them.” The boy’s face fell, and Jalmari touched the little wrists. He concentrated and felt the ropes loosen slightly. “Does that feel better, little one?”
Bobby nodded at him, eyes wide and tears still running down his face.
Jalmari watched the boy and sighed, his wings moving with the movement. He opened his arms wide to the child and smiled as the boy climbed on his lap without thinking, still trembling.
This was so very hard for his charge. Jalmari closed his eyes and prayed. Bobby settled into the angelic chest and sighed. Still trembling and rocking gently, the little child struggled to understand.
“Thi’ rea’?” Is this real? The boy sounded unsure and Jalmari understood.
“Yes, little one.”
“Why?” The boy pushed away from the angel’s chest and turned his face to look up briefly at the Being. The angel understood the real question. Why was this happening...why was the angel here with him now...
“Remember what we spoke of before? The evil in this world...it seeks to hurt you because you are special, you are chosen, child.” Bobby nodded seriously, remembering the conversation from before. “Do you remember what else I said before, Bobby?”
“Bad guys or bad things¼God always there? And angels too, and Jalmari?” Bobby repeated the words from their conversation before and Jalmari tightened his hold on the boy. .
“You are correct, little one. You are always protected.” His eyes flashed. “No matter what happens, remember that you are always close to God. Close to Heaven itself, little one.”
It was an echo of his earlier words, and the angel fiercely prayed the Lord would further bless this little one and protect him from the evil to come.
“Child, I might not be able to be here,” he pointed to the closet, “with you for long, but remember I will still be with you.” The boy had relaxed sleepily back into the angel’s chest, comforted by his strength. “I will stay with you until this is over. Even if you cannot see me.”
Bobby nodded sleepily into Jalmari’s chest, using his bound hands to pillow his cheek. The angel leaned down to whisper in his ear.
“Remember your special words, little one. Say them often, even when Jalmari is not in here with you. They will protect you.” The being lifted his eyes heavenward and sighed with divine frustration. He wished to do more, but he had his orders. So instead, he softly started reciting scripture to the boy, knowing the words would echo in his mind even in sleep. “ Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path...”
*******************************************
Annie
When Annie awoke, it was with a headache and panic like she had never felt before. Her heart raced as her predicament hit her fully.
The last thing she remembered was trying to help Sam with the big goon by jumping on his back. Perhaps not her brightest moment, but she was trying to help.
Her body protested its confinement and she returned to the present with a whimper deep within her throat. Her eyes were covered. She had to concentrate on breathing, as something filled her mouth so completely her jaw hurt from the intrusion.
The ropes bound her so tightly, she was lucky to move more than her head: On something soft, a bed maybe. She shuddered at the thought. Her wrists and ankles were tied to opposite corners of the soft surface and she could already feel the fatigue of her muscles. Frustrated, she felt tears leak from her eyes, wetting the blindfold.
Suddenly, she felt a presence near her. She couldn’t see them, didn’t hear them move closer to her, and couldn’t scream nearly satisfyingly enough when she felt the cold metal against her skin. The...presence...was a person. And she didn’t think they were here to rescue her.
On to Part 2