Fic: Purgatory Pt. 5
Title: Purgatory
Author: Xanateria
Crossover: Sanctuary/Supernatural/Buffy
See Fic Master Post for rating, warnings and author's notes.
Watching Ashley’s eyes go blank and far away, Dean took a careful step back to give her some space. He’d seen how hard coming back was on Sam, so he had a pretty good idea what had the lady so upset. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel threatened.
He was still near enough to hear her wonder what kind of person she was. Magnus and the others had only given him the briefest summary of what had happened to Ashley before she ended up in Purgatory. But he was an expert in guilt, especially the kind that came from knowing you had the blood of innocent people on your hands.
It wasn’t going to do her any good to bottle it all up, he determined. Sometimes these things were easier to tell to someone you didn’t know well. Those reasons skipped over the sympathy he was trying to ignore, but that was no one’s business but his.
“You’re the same kind of person you were before you for were taken,” he told her, pretending she’d intended to ask him. “Whatever happened after wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have stopped it. They wanted you to think that you could have.”
The words hit the mark, he could tell, because her face went even paler and her hands began to shake. “You didn’t know me before, you don’t know me now, and you sure as hell don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” she brushed him off, anger radiating off her in waves.
He took a second to think about it, wondering if he wanted to share something so personal. Ashley was right, he didn’t know her but she’d fought hard to recover. None of what happened to her was any fairer than what happened to Sam.
Sam was still distancing himself from everyone, so Dean couldn’t help him. Maybe, he could help her. Maybe he could help himself.
“I could tell you, to the second, how long it takes to torture someone until they break. I could tell you that about more people than I can count easily,” he told her, pitching his voice just loud enough to reach her, trusting the flat, matter of fact tone to do the rest.
It didn’t look like she was entirely willing to listen, but she stopped walking away. “You don’t understand,” she argued.
“I understand that instead of being thankful for the second chance your friends - your family-bought for you, you’re busy pissing it away feeling sorry for yourself.” It was harder than he should have pushed, probably. But he’d always been a go big or go home kind of guy.
Color washed into her cheeks and her head snapped up. “Go to hell,” she screamed at him.
“Been there,” he told her, “but it didn’t stick. So here we are.” He waited until she met his eyes, and let her that he meant it literally. “Look, I’m not arguing that what happened to you, to Sam, to everyone else, didn’t suck. But you can’t live your life dwelling on all the shit you did wrong. You make up for it as best you can while you live whatever is left of your life.” It wasn’t much, as philosophies went, but it was all he had to offer.
Still, maybe it got through at least a little, because she mustered up a smirk. “That’s pretty pathetic, you know,” she told him.
“If you can critique my technique, that must mean you can do better,” he smirked right back, feeling a spark of accomplishment as they walked down the path. If there was another spark of hope that maybe he could transfer this to helping Sam, well nobody had to know that but him. “Do yourself a favor, Ashley. Go do something that will get your mind off the anger. Just because you’re carrying it around doesn’t make it a good idea to focus on it. Trust me on this one,” he added, adding his most persuasive smile, since it usually helped him get what he wanted.
Ashley didn’t look impressed. They were still walking, albeit a bit slower, and she turned to look at him thoughtfully. “Don’t ask me why, but I do,” she murmured, shifting to look where she was going. “You’re probably not the trustworthy type, and I get the feeling it could get me into all kinds of trouble, but I do trust you.”
How things had gone from angry to light and then so serious so quickly was a mystery but Dean sensed that he needed to step carefully, and it had nothing to do with where he was walking. “Look, Ashley, I’m no saint. Some of what I’ve done is pretty horrible,” he admitted, fighting back the despair those bleak memories always brought. Stopping abruptly, he put his hands on her arms to stop her. “But I’m not going to hurt you. Whatever else you might be having trouble believing right now, that’s the truth.” Though his voice had gone lower and rougher than usual, he managed to get the words out, despite the pounding of his heart.
Though he could feel her trembling, Ashley seemed in control of herself as she faced him. Her eyes were a bit wider than normal and she was breathing a bit quickly, but they had just been arguing. They stood like that for another handful of heartbeats, just long enough for the silence to start making him edgy. Then she shifted until her slender body was draped on him, barely giving him enough time to shift to accept her weight before she kissed him, deep and wet and definitely not shy about getting what she wanted. “I believe you,” she murmured when she pulled back. “But I think that means we might both be in trouble.”
Tangling a hand in her hair, Dean tugged gently so that he had better access to kiss his way along her jaw line and throat and then returning to her lips. “That’s alright. I’m an expert in trouble,” he whispered, before his mouth was much too busy to talk.
***
Old City Sanctuary
Will Zimmerman’s Room
1:10 am
In the days following the spell, Will expected to be busy. With so many partial or total amnesia victims, it was only natural that there was a higher demand for his professional services. Helen Magnus might have been one of the most formidable woman he’d ever known, but she was still a mother who had lost, and then found, her only child. It took some juggling to make sure he had enough time to check on her as often as he liked.
He enjoyed the chance to use his skills, and he was thrilled that Ashley had been returned to them. It was a little overwhelming but he was handling it the same way he always did: by making sure that everyone else was handling it. As an added bonus, he got to see Henry and Willow feeling their way through the beginning stages of what looked to be a serious long distance relationship.
The one thing he hadn’t counted on was that his dreams continued. Now, instead of dreaming of Dean and Sam and their various hunts, he was dreaming of Sam, and what he assumed were the man’s very private nightmares. With the crisis over, there was no good reason that he would still be being sent dreams. The only thing he’d been able to come up with was that there was some kind of message that he just wasn’t getting.For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was. He had to admit it made him uncomfortable to be eavesdropping on such private moments, even if it was unintentional.
It didn’t help that the more they spent time together, while he tried to help Sam through what was understandably a difficult time, the more he liked him. He was dealing with a situation that would be enough to make anyone lash out, or sink into melancholy. Yet Sam was doing his level best to get on with his life. Given what he’d observed of the dynamic between the two brothers, it actually surprised Will that they were still staying at Sanctuary. Whatever the reason, he was glad of they stayed.
Sam still had large gaps in his memory, and some fairly major injuries. But as long as he was being honest with himself, Will had to admit his interest in Sam went beyond that of a doctor for his patient. He’d caught himself thinking more and more about the man, even before he’d started dreaming again.
Sighing, he slid out of bed and pulled on an ancient sweater to go with his admittedly baggy flannel sleep pants. If he was wrong and he was just being a shade too empathetic or something then he could always get a snack to make getting up worthwhile. If he was right, and Sam had just finished the nightmare he had just experienced, then maybe he could help. He was already moving before it occurred to him that he had absolutely no explanation for why he would be looking for company this time of night. It wasn’t like he could just knock on the door of Sam’s room at this hour to chat. Still, he kept moving. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep and he hadn’t gotten this far on his intuition to stop listening to it now.
He padded through the guest wing first, to see if he was wrong after all. Sam’s door was open and the lights were off. Continuing on, he pondered where the other man might be, letting his feet take him wherever they felt like. He ended up headed into the kitchen, the pool of light spilling out the doors answered his question. “Guess it’s snack time after all,” he muttered to himself. Quietly, he walked over to the coffeemaker, and helped himself to a cup. It was fresh enough that he knew the Big Guy must have made a point of making more recently, in case of wandering insomniacs. He had to appreciate the consideration, as he lifted the pot to carry it over to the table. “Hey.” He tipped the pot towards Sam as he got his attention.
Nodding tiredly, Sam attempted a smile, and held up his own mug. “Sure why not?” he asked. “Not like I’m going back to sleep.”
Will couldn’t ask for a more perfect opening than that. Dropping into another one of the chairs, he made sure to keep his tone even when he spoke. “Rough night?”
Another tired nod was Sam’s answer, but Will was encouraged he was even willing to admit to that much. Looking without it appearing that he was studying his subject closely took a very specific skill set. He’d had a lot of practice, so he buried his face in his mug, and took note of the signs of stress and strain in the other man. More specifically, he noted the signs of internal conflict. That only left the question of what Sam was fighting with himself about, but that wasn’t hard to guess either.
“I know you have no reason to trust me,” he began slowly, working around his point. “But I don’t mind listening, and you don’t have to worry about burdening me with whatever it is that you can’t stop thinking about.” He kept his tone reasonable, and tried to ignore how much he hoped it worked.
Sam looked at him sharply, but said nothing, so he tried again. “Look, I know your brother’s been through some kind of trauma and that you worry about this all being too much of a reminder for him.” That got him another look, this one more intense, and an eyebrow raised in question. Shrugging, Will shook his head. “He didn’t tell me, if that’s what you’re wondering. I read people, pay attention, that’s all.” It didn’t sit well that he had to skirt around his other source of information, but Sam was in no shape to talk about prophetic dreams, no matter who starred in them. Giving himself a mental shake, Will refocused on what was in front of him. “I know a little bit about the kinds of things you used to do,” he said, carefully casual, hoping the assumption would be that Magnus had told him. “I get that you’re not the most talkative. I got that much from the sessions you’ve allowed us to have.” Tipping back in his chair, Will met Sam’s eyes, letting him see the sympathy, the sincerity and how much he really did want to understand. “All I’m saying is, whatever you might need to get off your chest, I’m willing to listen.”
And still there was no answer.
They sat in silence that felt comfortable, drinking coffee for a long few moments. Swallowing his disappointment, Will shifted his weight to stand. The least he could do was not push, or pressure. As Will was about to force himself out of the room, Sam spoke. “I just don’t know what’s real anymore,” he admitted, voice gone rough and raw with a depth of pain that was hard to listen to. “I heard so many lies, saw so many horrible things that it just seems like none of this is real. I hear everyone telling me that the ordeal is over,” he continued with a rising bitterness. “But it’s not over. All of it, every obscenity, it’s still here,” he explained, tapping a finger to his forehead. “I can’t break out of it, and I don’t even know if all of it was real.”
“Well, without knowing the details, I would say that if you have to carry the memories, that’s real enough. Like it or not, you’re stuck with it now.” Will moved back to his chair and sat down, tilting his head as he considered the problem.
“Damn right,” Sam agreed, with a bitter laugh. He shifted the subject then, and they talked about the generic details of trauma recovery for a bit, but when Will went back to bed, it was with the sense that both of them might actually be able to sleep.
That night’s discussion set the pattern for the next few days. Each time Will had a nightmare, he would get up, and go for a walk, each time finding Sam. Sometimes they only talked for a few minutes, more about generalities than anything else. Other times he did more listening than talking, as Sam spoke of things that worried him, or details that he wished he could forget. Though he used some of his psychiatric skills, it was less about that than simply being present, and hearing what Sam needed to say. Sometimes they simply sat together and didn’t say much at all. That was alright though, Will remembered enough times of his own that he would have given anything not to be alone. Spending time with Sam wasn’t exactly a hardship.
The kiss was more accidental than anything. On his way to seat himself at the kitchen table again, Will had tripped and nearly gone sprawling. Only Sam’s quick reflexes had saved him from a painful impact with the cold tile floor. Later he could never say which one of them had moved first, and when their lips met, it hadn’t mattered. Even a truly excellent kiss couldn’t turn off his mind though, and he drew back. “This isn’t a good idea while I’m still involved in your treatment,” he murmured, hating the fact that he had to say it, even if it was true. “And there are a few other things you should know about me before you decide we should be doing this,” he admitted.
For the first time since he woke up in the infirmary, Sam full-on grinned, and Will felt an answering grin spread across his face. At least he didn’t have to worry that he was gonna freak out.
“Yeah, I’m sure there is,” Sam agreed, without even trying to move. “But what about after I’m done treatment? I’ll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours,” he offered.
Knowing the effort it took for Sam to say that, there was really only one answer he could make. “Deal,” he agreed, giving into the impulse and leaning down for one more kiss.
It hadn’t been as simple as that. It took time for Sam to reach a point where he wanted to talk about more than his most recent trauma. The day that happened, Will knew he needed to come clean about how he knew when Sam had bad nights. He’d been chalking it up to good intuition or unrelated nightly wanderings. Now that Sam had progressed a bit in his recovery, he deserved to know the truth.
This time they decided their usual territory wouldn’t work. The kitchen tended to be a busy place during the day, and this was one conversation they didn’t need an audience for. The weather was decent and the out-of-the-way garden might have been overgrown but it was deserted, except for a lone figure already seated on the far bench.
“Thanks for coming to sit with me,” Sam told him, though his voice was so low it barely carried.
“No problem,” Will replied. “I know how it gets when the walls start feeling like they are closing in.” The Sanctuary was more of a home to him than anywhere else he’d ever lived and he was so comfortable there that sometimes it surprised him, but that didn’t mean there weren’t days he felt like he had to get out or he would go crazy. Shaking his head, he reminded himself they weren’t out here to discuss the intricacies of cabin fever.
“Look, I meant what I said before, I am always willing to listen to anything you need to tell me. But I need to tell you something this time. There’s something you don’t know about me, and it might change your mind about confiding in me, in my capacity as a psychiatrist.” Determined as he was to be honest, he felt his body start to tremble.
“I don’t see that happening, man,” Sam told him, still quiet, though his eyes showed curiosity. “Besides, I don’t talk to you because you’re a shrink. I talk to you because we’re friends. Whatever else we might be feeling our way to, we’re friends, aren’t we?”
“We are, yeah,” Will agreed, feeling a renewed surge of guilt. “That’s kind of the problem. Whatever we’re working our way towards,” he paused and carefully avoided the word relationship. “I don’t want to keep being less than honest with you.”
“Less than honest? Okay…about what?” Sam paused, and stared back rather intently. “Wait, is this where you tell me that you’re actually an abnormal?”
That startled a laugh from Will. “No,” Will answered, “I’m human, at least as far as I know.” Taking a deep breath, he began his explanation. “The thing is, I’m as human as the next guy, but I’m also different. I have these dreams.” Somehow saying it out loud seemed like it made it bigger and scarier, but he’d come too far to stop now. “I dream about things that come true sometimes, and lately, I’ve been dreaming about you. I haven’t got a clue why, but I’m pretty sure I’m sharing your nightmares. Not all of them, but a lot of them.” Sam opened his mouth to respond, but Will just kept talking. If he didn’t get it all out now, who knows how long it would take him to get up his nerve. “And the thing is, I know some of your background Sam that you didn’t tell me. Before your brother showed up here, I was dreaming about you, both of you.” Looking at his hands, clenched tightly in his lap, Will couldn’t make himself look up. He didn’t want to see the anger, or the judgment, even if he knew he deserved it.
He heard a quiet chuckle in response. “Well, of all the things I was picturing you confessing, I gotta tell ya, man, that didn’t even make the list.” Shifting slightly closer on the bench, Sam waited for a moment, obviously collecting his thoughts. “Look, I’m not thrilled about having my privacy invaded, but if it’s going to happen, I’d rather it be you than anyone else, Will. Besides, a lot of what happened to me is so hard to talk about, maybe this is just someone’s way of making it easier for me.”
The rather intense sincerity made his stomach jump, but the lack of judgment had Will looking up at last. “Wait, you’re not mad?” Oh, that was great, he sounded like a scared kid. But like it or not, the answer mattered.
Shaking his head, Sam smiled at him crookedly, showing his dimple for a moment. “Nah. I know what it’s like to have things like that happen that you don’t ask for and can’t control. And I know the last thing you need is to have someone look at you like you’re a freak just because dying changed you. And hell, who am I to judge? Most people can’t say they’ve been to hell and back and mean it literally. I can, and there isn’t anything that is going to change that. If you can live with that, then I can live with a little clairvoyance, no matter where you get it from.”
Closing the distance between them, Will paused just before touching his lips to Sam’s. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.” He might have said more, but the kiss went from light to intense quickly enough to focus all his attention on the heat between them. They could talk later.
***
Old City Sanctuary
Ashley Magnus’ Rooms
3:12 am
Depending on your point of view, it was either very late, or very early. Unable to fall asleep after her latest nightmare, Ashley stared at the ceiling and tried to concentrate on her breathing. The remnants of nausea and the shakes would pass, she knew. As she lay there, the sound of her mother’s footstep reached her ears. Nocturnal wanderings of the maternal variety were nothing new. Ashley heard her at least once most nights. This time, instead of leaving her alone to her coffee or snack, Dean’s words about holding on to anger sounded in her ears, and she threw back her covers and rummaged around for the sleep pants on the floor near the bed.
When she reached the kitchen, she almost turned and left without making her presence known, but her pride wouldn’t let her. When she got a good look at the shadows under her mother’s eyes, neither would her conscience. There might not be many good things in her slowly returning memories, but the good that was there was centered on the woman who was seated at the long table tucked into the dining nook. Taking a deep breath, she paced over to the table and seated herself. “Tough night?” she asked.
“Ashley, I’m so glad to see you,” Helen murmured. Her expression lightened, followed by a wide smile. Then, as she noticed the signs of a recent nightmare, her smile faded. “I would guess I’m not the only one having a difficult evening.” Knowing there was no point in pushing her daughter for information she settled back and waited.
When Ashley was a little girl, and had a nightmare, they would go down to the kitchen and have hot cocoa and cookies and talk through whatever had upset her. Fleetingly, as she settled at the bench seat of the table, Helen wished it would be so easy to fix what was wrong now. It seemed wrong somehow that she was so happy when her child was so sad. That guilt had driven her out of bed, though she knew it was irrational. It was a jarring shock to see Ashley looking at her the same way she would look at any acquaintance. With a carefully measured breath inward, she set that aside. This wasn’t the time to be dwelling on her own problems. However it had happened, Ashley was back, and needed her help, whether she wanted it or not. “You can tell me about it, if you want,” she began, with only the slightest of hesitations.
Tilting her head to the side in a way that meant she was thinking something through, Ashley laughed quietly, but there was no humor in the sound. “Believe me, you do not want to hear about the things I dream about now.” She stopped, then started to speak, only to stop again, and when she looked up, Magnus caught the sheen of tears in her eyes, even in the low light of the kitchen.
“If you need to talk about it, I most certainly do want to hear it,” she contradicted, keeping her tone neutral.
The only sound was the rustling of fabric before Ashley shook her head, her hair brushing against her shoulders. “I don’t want to talk about it, at least not yet. I know you said you don’t want to tell me too much about my life now, that it will be better if I remember on my own. But what about when I was little? Can you tell me about then?” The plea was soft, barely above a whisper, but there was no mistaking how difficult it had been to ask.
“Alright. I don’t see any harm in a bit of reminiscing,” Helen answered, with only a slight pause while the doctor in her lost the argument to the mother. She started with the story of Ashley’s first day at school, and that led naturally into others. Shaking her head a little bit, she smiled across the table. “You were a handful, even at that age,” Helen concluded. “As much as I loved your independent streak, I must confess, I liked it when you would bring me your problems too. We used to end up right here when we discussed them,” she added.
“Cocoa,” Ashley said suddenly, with a strange far-away look in her eyes. Not quite certain what the comment related to, Helen looked over, intending to ask if she should make some, but Ashley was still talking. “When I was upset, we’d sit in here and you’d make me cocoa, because you said I was too young to be drinking tea, even though I wanted to drink what you were drinking.”
Swallowing against the tears that threatened, Helen could only nod. “I did, yes,” she agreed. Though she tried for matter of fact, she didn’t quite make it. “You remember.” It wasn’t a question, but the answering nod made her feel like a weight had come off that she hadn’t known was quite so heavy.
For the first time since they sat down, Ashley smiled, and nodded again. “I guess I do, at least a little bit. A lot of what I remember is so dark, so violent. It’s good to know it wasn’t all like that. I keep feeling like I owe you an apology, for hurting you, for leaving you, for not remembering. I don’t know.” Running her hand through her hair, she looked down at the table top. Just when she thought she understood all the things she felt guilty about, new ones would pop out of nowhere.
Rather than upsetting her more, this revelation made Helen feel like she was back on ground she could cope with. “Ashley, look at me,” she directed. Once they were looking at each other again, she continued. “None of what happened to you was your fault. I can’t lie to you and tell you that losing you didn’t hurt me. Of course it did. But the pain I went through is not your responsibility. You aren’t gone. You’re right here with me. I will never stop being grateful for that, no matter what you end up able to remember. If you can’t believe anything else, at least believe that, alright? The rest will come.” Though she seemed uncertain, Ashley eventually nodded in agreement. After such an intense moment, it was no surprise that the blonde claimed fatigue and left only a little bit later. That was alright though because Helen needed a chance to get herself back under control anyway.
It was such a stupid little thing. Hearing her daughter remember the cocoa had almost managed to reduce her to tears. Imagine, the great Helen Magnus reduced to crying over a hot beverage. Laughing a little at herself, she walked out of the kitchen toward her room. It didn’t matter if she was upset, there was no one there to see it. Steps from her room, the awareness prickled at the back of her neck and she sighed. “John, it’s late. I need to sleep.” She simply didn’t have the energy to control herself around him tonight. One emotionally wrenching scene was enough for a night.
“I know,” John told her, the measured acknowledgment at odds with the pain she could sense he was controlling. Separate from all their other issues, she knew he felt things more deeply than he would ever admit. Losing Ashley had destroyed him in some fundamental way, that even living with the Ripper within him hadn’t managed to damage. Knowing that truth didn’t make spending time with him a good idea though.
“Are you alright?” she asked. Are you yourself, under control, she meant. But of course, he knew that.
“For the moment,” was the answer, as he pushed away from where he’d been standing against the wall. “I know I should go. I know I really have no right to ask you about her, even now. Maybe especially not now,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to know.” He paused, while she opened her door, and there was a flash of surprise in his eyes when she opened it wide enough to be a clear invitation.
Once they were in her sitting room, she put extra care into closing the door. “She’s as well as can be expected,” Helen told him, knowing that would be his first question. Though a part of her wanted to pace, she dropped into a chair, kicking off her shoes with a sigh. Even with her eyes shut, she knew he moved behind her, but she also trusted that he would leave before he would allow his darker side to hurt her. The sense of him so close, the smell of him… She was too tired to have any defense at all when the longing surged up as it always did. Somehow the pain had gotten sharper since they’d discovered the truth behind his darker side. It had never been something he chose, and the fact that he could control it at all was miraculous. It made her feel better knowing he hadn’t chosen darkness over her all those years ago. It also didn’t erase the guilt of knowing he was only playing host to the monster because of her. He’d never have accepted it back if it wasn’t to save her. Oh he’d told her otherwise, but she wasn’t naive enough to believe him.
Moving slowly so she could tell him to back off, John came closer, laying his hands on her shoulders and rubbing at the knots he’d known he would find. The pain of touching her, while knowing he couldn’t have her had become familiar. It didn’t matter if it hurt him. Even miracles took their toll. There were shadows beneath her eyes and she was so tense a headache was inevitable. He understood. Having Ashley back was wonderful. Having her not know them was a fresh layer of hurt, topping a never-ending list. If she did remember her life, she would also remember all the things the Cabal made her do. Nothing he could say that would make it better. He stayed silent, continuing his massage.
When he felt the shoulders beneath his hands begin to shake, he knew she was crying. He allowed himself the pleasure of urging her to turn around, rearranging them so she was curled up against him. Feeling the tears begin to soak his shirt, he shifted until he was a bit more comfortable. For once, his dark companion seemed willing to be quiet, so he would hold her as long as was necessary. He was one of the few who understood how hard it was for Helen to let go of the strict control she imposed on her emotions. Maybe he couldn’t make any of it easier, but at the very least, she would know she wasn’t alone. That would have to be enough.
***
Old City Sanctuary
Library
9:05 am
There were a few more people at the table than she was used to, but Helen was smiling as she waited for everyone to take their places. It was still a joy to look down and see Ashley back with them. Granted, her memory was still a problem, and learning to control the powers the Cabal had forced on her was not exactly an easy task. Stacked up against her being here at all, those hardly seemed like obstacles.
Henry wandered in, talking to Willow on his bluetooth. That was a romance she hadn’t seen coming but was definitely pleased about. It had seemed more likely that Dean and Kate might get together but judging by the casual cuff Kate gave Dean on her way to grab some coffee, they had developed a kind of sibling dynamic. As she watched, Ashley joined the fun, catching his other side. The women laughed at his angry look.
Looking at the scene, she had to ignore a stab of pain. How much she wished that John had been able to stay longer. But she shouldn’t complain because she didn’t have everything. John would come if and when he could, whenever he could control the monster inside him. If she juggled her duties well enough, perhaps she would be able to look into ways to help him. Picking up her tablet, she keyed in a note to herself about it. Glancing at her watch, she was about to get things started when the tray of pasties on the sideboard caught her eye. She’d meant to have breakfast but lost the time to eat when her conference call had gone over. Instead of being annoyed though, even that was so normal it made her smile.
Sam came in, followed closely by Will. That was another relationship she hadn’t seen coming, but it seemed to be good for both of them. They were being terribly discreet about it, but certain signals were obvious no matter how much effort went into trying to hide them. Since they didn’t want anyone to know, she was keeping quiet about it.
Odds were there would be rather amusing fireworks when Dean found out, given how protective he was of his brother. They were all adults, so it was their business. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy the show, but that was hardly the point. What was important was that they were all moving on, settling back into life. Whatever came next they would all deal with it. Speaking of, she had business that needed dealing with.
“Good morning, everyone,” she announced, just loud enough to get their attention. “I’m so glad you could all join us on this lovely morning. I don’t have a great deal of news to present, but I wanted to check in with everybody.” It only took a moment to look around the table, but no one spoke up, so she continued. “I’m sure you all understand that we need to be on our guard against whatever fallout there is from our recent activities.” There were nods all around.
“To that end, I should let you know that I’ve given Sam and Dean clearance as expert consultants. They’ve agreed to stick around to see if they can help us anticipate what the next moves are going to be,” Helen explained. “Officially, their clearance is only for this branch, but unofficially, they’re to be shown anything they want to know,” she added, in case anyone was unclear. No one argued. Instead, Henry laughed and shoved against Will’s shoulder. “Pay up, dude. I told you,” he exclaimed in obvious satisfaction. Despite her usual standard of professionalism, Helen laughed before she could hold it back. Yes, they could definitely deal with whatever came next.
***fin***
****for now****
Author: Xanateria
Crossover: Sanctuary/Supernatural/Buffy
See Fic Master Post for rating, warnings and author's notes.
Watching Ashley’s eyes go blank and far away, Dean took a careful step back to give her some space. He’d seen how hard coming back was on Sam, so he had a pretty good idea what had the lady so upset. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel threatened.
He was still near enough to hear her wonder what kind of person she was. Magnus and the others had only given him the briefest summary of what had happened to Ashley before she ended up in Purgatory. But he was an expert in guilt, especially the kind that came from knowing you had the blood of innocent people on your hands.
It wasn’t going to do her any good to bottle it all up, he determined. Sometimes these things were easier to tell to someone you didn’t know well. Those reasons skipped over the sympathy he was trying to ignore, but that was no one’s business but his.
“You’re the same kind of person you were before you for were taken,” he told her, pretending she’d intended to ask him. “Whatever happened after wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have stopped it. They wanted you to think that you could have.”
The words hit the mark, he could tell, because her face went even paler and her hands began to shake. “You didn’t know me before, you don’t know me now, and you sure as hell don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” she brushed him off, anger radiating off her in waves.
He took a second to think about it, wondering if he wanted to share something so personal. Ashley was right, he didn’t know her but she’d fought hard to recover. None of what happened to her was any fairer than what happened to Sam.
Sam was still distancing himself from everyone, so Dean couldn’t help him. Maybe, he could help her. Maybe he could help himself.
“I could tell you, to the second, how long it takes to torture someone until they break. I could tell you that about more people than I can count easily,” he told her, pitching his voice just loud enough to reach her, trusting the flat, matter of fact tone to do the rest.
It didn’t look like she was entirely willing to listen, but she stopped walking away. “You don’t understand,” she argued.
“I understand that instead of being thankful for the second chance your friends - your family-bought for you, you’re busy pissing it away feeling sorry for yourself.” It was harder than he should have pushed, probably. But he’d always been a go big or go home kind of guy.
Color washed into her cheeks and her head snapped up. “Go to hell,” she screamed at him.
“Been there,” he told her, “but it didn’t stick. So here we are.” He waited until she met his eyes, and let her that he meant it literally. “Look, I’m not arguing that what happened to you, to Sam, to everyone else, didn’t suck. But you can’t live your life dwelling on all the shit you did wrong. You make up for it as best you can while you live whatever is left of your life.” It wasn’t much, as philosophies went, but it was all he had to offer.
Still, maybe it got through at least a little, because she mustered up a smirk. “That’s pretty pathetic, you know,” she told him.
“If you can critique my technique, that must mean you can do better,” he smirked right back, feeling a spark of accomplishment as they walked down the path. If there was another spark of hope that maybe he could transfer this to helping Sam, well nobody had to know that but him. “Do yourself a favor, Ashley. Go do something that will get your mind off the anger. Just because you’re carrying it around doesn’t make it a good idea to focus on it. Trust me on this one,” he added, adding his most persuasive smile, since it usually helped him get what he wanted.
Ashley didn’t look impressed. They were still walking, albeit a bit slower, and she turned to look at him thoughtfully. “Don’t ask me why, but I do,” she murmured, shifting to look where she was going. “You’re probably not the trustworthy type, and I get the feeling it could get me into all kinds of trouble, but I do trust you.”
How things had gone from angry to light and then so serious so quickly was a mystery but Dean sensed that he needed to step carefully, and it had nothing to do with where he was walking. “Look, Ashley, I’m no saint. Some of what I’ve done is pretty horrible,” he admitted, fighting back the despair those bleak memories always brought. Stopping abruptly, he put his hands on her arms to stop her. “But I’m not going to hurt you. Whatever else you might be having trouble believing right now, that’s the truth.” Though his voice had gone lower and rougher than usual, he managed to get the words out, despite the pounding of his heart.
Though he could feel her trembling, Ashley seemed in control of herself as she faced him. Her eyes were a bit wider than normal and she was breathing a bit quickly, but they had just been arguing. They stood like that for another handful of heartbeats, just long enough for the silence to start making him edgy. Then she shifted until her slender body was draped on him, barely giving him enough time to shift to accept her weight before she kissed him, deep and wet and definitely not shy about getting what she wanted. “I believe you,” she murmured when she pulled back. “But I think that means we might both be in trouble.”
Tangling a hand in her hair, Dean tugged gently so that he had better access to kiss his way along her jaw line and throat and then returning to her lips. “That’s alright. I’m an expert in trouble,” he whispered, before his mouth was much too busy to talk.
***
Old City Sanctuary
Will Zimmerman’s Room
1:10 am
In the days following the spell, Will expected to be busy. With so many partial or total amnesia victims, it was only natural that there was a higher demand for his professional services. Helen Magnus might have been one of the most formidable woman he’d ever known, but she was still a mother who had lost, and then found, her only child. It took some juggling to make sure he had enough time to check on her as often as he liked.
He enjoyed the chance to use his skills, and he was thrilled that Ashley had been returned to them. It was a little overwhelming but he was handling it the same way he always did: by making sure that everyone else was handling it. As an added bonus, he got to see Henry and Willow feeling their way through the beginning stages of what looked to be a serious long distance relationship.
The one thing he hadn’t counted on was that his dreams continued. Now, instead of dreaming of Dean and Sam and their various hunts, he was dreaming of Sam, and what he assumed were the man’s very private nightmares. With the crisis over, there was no good reason that he would still be being sent dreams. The only thing he’d been able to come up with was that there was some kind of message that he just wasn’t getting.For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was. He had to admit it made him uncomfortable to be eavesdropping on such private moments, even if it was unintentional.
It didn’t help that the more they spent time together, while he tried to help Sam through what was understandably a difficult time, the more he liked him. He was dealing with a situation that would be enough to make anyone lash out, or sink into melancholy. Yet Sam was doing his level best to get on with his life. Given what he’d observed of the dynamic between the two brothers, it actually surprised Will that they were still staying at Sanctuary. Whatever the reason, he was glad of they stayed.
Sam still had large gaps in his memory, and some fairly major injuries. But as long as he was being honest with himself, Will had to admit his interest in Sam went beyond that of a doctor for his patient. He’d caught himself thinking more and more about the man, even before he’d started dreaming again.
Sighing, he slid out of bed and pulled on an ancient sweater to go with his admittedly baggy flannel sleep pants. If he was wrong and he was just being a shade too empathetic or something then he could always get a snack to make getting up worthwhile. If he was right, and Sam had just finished the nightmare he had just experienced, then maybe he could help. He was already moving before it occurred to him that he had absolutely no explanation for why he would be looking for company this time of night. It wasn’t like he could just knock on the door of Sam’s room at this hour to chat. Still, he kept moving. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep and he hadn’t gotten this far on his intuition to stop listening to it now.
He padded through the guest wing first, to see if he was wrong after all. Sam’s door was open and the lights were off. Continuing on, he pondered where the other man might be, letting his feet take him wherever they felt like. He ended up headed into the kitchen, the pool of light spilling out the doors answered his question. “Guess it’s snack time after all,” he muttered to himself. Quietly, he walked over to the coffeemaker, and helped himself to a cup. It was fresh enough that he knew the Big Guy must have made a point of making more recently, in case of wandering insomniacs. He had to appreciate the consideration, as he lifted the pot to carry it over to the table. “Hey.” He tipped the pot towards Sam as he got his attention.
Nodding tiredly, Sam attempted a smile, and held up his own mug. “Sure why not?” he asked. “Not like I’m going back to sleep.”
Will couldn’t ask for a more perfect opening than that. Dropping into another one of the chairs, he made sure to keep his tone even when he spoke. “Rough night?”
Another tired nod was Sam’s answer, but Will was encouraged he was even willing to admit to that much. Looking without it appearing that he was studying his subject closely took a very specific skill set. He’d had a lot of practice, so he buried his face in his mug, and took note of the signs of stress and strain in the other man. More specifically, he noted the signs of internal conflict. That only left the question of what Sam was fighting with himself about, but that wasn’t hard to guess either.
“I know you have no reason to trust me,” he began slowly, working around his point. “But I don’t mind listening, and you don’t have to worry about burdening me with whatever it is that you can’t stop thinking about.” He kept his tone reasonable, and tried to ignore how much he hoped it worked.
Sam looked at him sharply, but said nothing, so he tried again. “Look, I know your brother’s been through some kind of trauma and that you worry about this all being too much of a reminder for him.” That got him another look, this one more intense, and an eyebrow raised in question. Shrugging, Will shook his head. “He didn’t tell me, if that’s what you’re wondering. I read people, pay attention, that’s all.” It didn’t sit well that he had to skirt around his other source of information, but Sam was in no shape to talk about prophetic dreams, no matter who starred in them. Giving himself a mental shake, Will refocused on what was in front of him. “I know a little bit about the kinds of things you used to do,” he said, carefully casual, hoping the assumption would be that Magnus had told him. “I get that you’re not the most talkative. I got that much from the sessions you’ve allowed us to have.” Tipping back in his chair, Will met Sam’s eyes, letting him see the sympathy, the sincerity and how much he really did want to understand. “All I’m saying is, whatever you might need to get off your chest, I’m willing to listen.”
And still there was no answer.
They sat in silence that felt comfortable, drinking coffee for a long few moments. Swallowing his disappointment, Will shifted his weight to stand. The least he could do was not push, or pressure. As Will was about to force himself out of the room, Sam spoke. “I just don’t know what’s real anymore,” he admitted, voice gone rough and raw with a depth of pain that was hard to listen to. “I heard so many lies, saw so many horrible things that it just seems like none of this is real. I hear everyone telling me that the ordeal is over,” he continued with a rising bitterness. “But it’s not over. All of it, every obscenity, it’s still here,” he explained, tapping a finger to his forehead. “I can’t break out of it, and I don’t even know if all of it was real.”
“Well, without knowing the details, I would say that if you have to carry the memories, that’s real enough. Like it or not, you’re stuck with it now.” Will moved back to his chair and sat down, tilting his head as he considered the problem.
“Damn right,” Sam agreed, with a bitter laugh. He shifted the subject then, and they talked about the generic details of trauma recovery for a bit, but when Will went back to bed, it was with the sense that both of them might actually be able to sleep.
That night’s discussion set the pattern for the next few days. Each time Will had a nightmare, he would get up, and go for a walk, each time finding Sam. Sometimes they only talked for a few minutes, more about generalities than anything else. Other times he did more listening than talking, as Sam spoke of things that worried him, or details that he wished he could forget. Though he used some of his psychiatric skills, it was less about that than simply being present, and hearing what Sam needed to say. Sometimes they simply sat together and didn’t say much at all. That was alright though, Will remembered enough times of his own that he would have given anything not to be alone. Spending time with Sam wasn’t exactly a hardship.
The kiss was more accidental than anything. On his way to seat himself at the kitchen table again, Will had tripped and nearly gone sprawling. Only Sam’s quick reflexes had saved him from a painful impact with the cold tile floor. Later he could never say which one of them had moved first, and when their lips met, it hadn’t mattered. Even a truly excellent kiss couldn’t turn off his mind though, and he drew back. “This isn’t a good idea while I’m still involved in your treatment,” he murmured, hating the fact that he had to say it, even if it was true. “And there are a few other things you should know about me before you decide we should be doing this,” he admitted.
For the first time since he woke up in the infirmary, Sam full-on grinned, and Will felt an answering grin spread across his face. At least he didn’t have to worry that he was gonna freak out.
“Yeah, I’m sure there is,” Sam agreed, without even trying to move. “But what about after I’m done treatment? I’ll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours,” he offered.
Knowing the effort it took for Sam to say that, there was really only one answer he could make. “Deal,” he agreed, giving into the impulse and leaning down for one more kiss.
It hadn’t been as simple as that. It took time for Sam to reach a point where he wanted to talk about more than his most recent trauma. The day that happened, Will knew he needed to come clean about how he knew when Sam had bad nights. He’d been chalking it up to good intuition or unrelated nightly wanderings. Now that Sam had progressed a bit in his recovery, he deserved to know the truth.
This time they decided their usual territory wouldn’t work. The kitchen tended to be a busy place during the day, and this was one conversation they didn’t need an audience for. The weather was decent and the out-of-the-way garden might have been overgrown but it was deserted, except for a lone figure already seated on the far bench.
“Thanks for coming to sit with me,” Sam told him, though his voice was so low it barely carried.
“No problem,” Will replied. “I know how it gets when the walls start feeling like they are closing in.” The Sanctuary was more of a home to him than anywhere else he’d ever lived and he was so comfortable there that sometimes it surprised him, but that didn’t mean there weren’t days he felt like he had to get out or he would go crazy. Shaking his head, he reminded himself they weren’t out here to discuss the intricacies of cabin fever.
“Look, I meant what I said before, I am always willing to listen to anything you need to tell me. But I need to tell you something this time. There’s something you don’t know about me, and it might change your mind about confiding in me, in my capacity as a psychiatrist.” Determined as he was to be honest, he felt his body start to tremble.
“I don’t see that happening, man,” Sam told him, still quiet, though his eyes showed curiosity. “Besides, I don’t talk to you because you’re a shrink. I talk to you because we’re friends. Whatever else we might be feeling our way to, we’re friends, aren’t we?”
“We are, yeah,” Will agreed, feeling a renewed surge of guilt. “That’s kind of the problem. Whatever we’re working our way towards,” he paused and carefully avoided the word relationship. “I don’t want to keep being less than honest with you.”
“Less than honest? Okay…about what?” Sam paused, and stared back rather intently. “Wait, is this where you tell me that you’re actually an abnormal?”
That startled a laugh from Will. “No,” Will answered, “I’m human, at least as far as I know.” Taking a deep breath, he began his explanation. “The thing is, I’m as human as the next guy, but I’m also different. I have these dreams.” Somehow saying it out loud seemed like it made it bigger and scarier, but he’d come too far to stop now. “I dream about things that come true sometimes, and lately, I’ve been dreaming about you. I haven’t got a clue why, but I’m pretty sure I’m sharing your nightmares. Not all of them, but a lot of them.” Sam opened his mouth to respond, but Will just kept talking. If he didn’t get it all out now, who knows how long it would take him to get up his nerve. “And the thing is, I know some of your background Sam that you didn’t tell me. Before your brother showed up here, I was dreaming about you, both of you.” Looking at his hands, clenched tightly in his lap, Will couldn’t make himself look up. He didn’t want to see the anger, or the judgment, even if he knew he deserved it.
He heard a quiet chuckle in response. “Well, of all the things I was picturing you confessing, I gotta tell ya, man, that didn’t even make the list.” Shifting slightly closer on the bench, Sam waited for a moment, obviously collecting his thoughts. “Look, I’m not thrilled about having my privacy invaded, but if it’s going to happen, I’d rather it be you than anyone else, Will. Besides, a lot of what happened to me is so hard to talk about, maybe this is just someone’s way of making it easier for me.”
The rather intense sincerity made his stomach jump, but the lack of judgment had Will looking up at last. “Wait, you’re not mad?” Oh, that was great, he sounded like a scared kid. But like it or not, the answer mattered.
Shaking his head, Sam smiled at him crookedly, showing his dimple for a moment. “Nah. I know what it’s like to have things like that happen that you don’t ask for and can’t control. And I know the last thing you need is to have someone look at you like you’re a freak just because dying changed you. And hell, who am I to judge? Most people can’t say they’ve been to hell and back and mean it literally. I can, and there isn’t anything that is going to change that. If you can live with that, then I can live with a little clairvoyance, no matter where you get it from.”
Closing the distance between them, Will paused just before touching his lips to Sam’s. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.” He might have said more, but the kiss went from light to intense quickly enough to focus all his attention on the heat between them. They could talk later.
***
Old City Sanctuary
Ashley Magnus’ Rooms
3:12 am
Depending on your point of view, it was either very late, or very early. Unable to fall asleep after her latest nightmare, Ashley stared at the ceiling and tried to concentrate on her breathing. The remnants of nausea and the shakes would pass, she knew. As she lay there, the sound of her mother’s footstep reached her ears. Nocturnal wanderings of the maternal variety were nothing new. Ashley heard her at least once most nights. This time, instead of leaving her alone to her coffee or snack, Dean’s words about holding on to anger sounded in her ears, and she threw back her covers and rummaged around for the sleep pants on the floor near the bed.
When she reached the kitchen, she almost turned and left without making her presence known, but her pride wouldn’t let her. When she got a good look at the shadows under her mother’s eyes, neither would her conscience. There might not be many good things in her slowly returning memories, but the good that was there was centered on the woman who was seated at the long table tucked into the dining nook. Taking a deep breath, she paced over to the table and seated herself. “Tough night?” she asked.
“Ashley, I’m so glad to see you,” Helen murmured. Her expression lightened, followed by a wide smile. Then, as she noticed the signs of a recent nightmare, her smile faded. “I would guess I’m not the only one having a difficult evening.” Knowing there was no point in pushing her daughter for information she settled back and waited.
When Ashley was a little girl, and had a nightmare, they would go down to the kitchen and have hot cocoa and cookies and talk through whatever had upset her. Fleetingly, as she settled at the bench seat of the table, Helen wished it would be so easy to fix what was wrong now. It seemed wrong somehow that she was so happy when her child was so sad. That guilt had driven her out of bed, though she knew it was irrational. It was a jarring shock to see Ashley looking at her the same way she would look at any acquaintance. With a carefully measured breath inward, she set that aside. This wasn’t the time to be dwelling on her own problems. However it had happened, Ashley was back, and needed her help, whether she wanted it or not. “You can tell me about it, if you want,” she began, with only the slightest of hesitations.
Tilting her head to the side in a way that meant she was thinking something through, Ashley laughed quietly, but there was no humor in the sound. “Believe me, you do not want to hear about the things I dream about now.” She stopped, then started to speak, only to stop again, and when she looked up, Magnus caught the sheen of tears in her eyes, even in the low light of the kitchen.
“If you need to talk about it, I most certainly do want to hear it,” she contradicted, keeping her tone neutral.
The only sound was the rustling of fabric before Ashley shook her head, her hair brushing against her shoulders. “I don’t want to talk about it, at least not yet. I know you said you don’t want to tell me too much about my life now, that it will be better if I remember on my own. But what about when I was little? Can you tell me about then?” The plea was soft, barely above a whisper, but there was no mistaking how difficult it had been to ask.
“Alright. I don’t see any harm in a bit of reminiscing,” Helen answered, with only a slight pause while the doctor in her lost the argument to the mother. She started with the story of Ashley’s first day at school, and that led naturally into others. Shaking her head a little bit, she smiled across the table. “You were a handful, even at that age,” Helen concluded. “As much as I loved your independent streak, I must confess, I liked it when you would bring me your problems too. We used to end up right here when we discussed them,” she added.
“Cocoa,” Ashley said suddenly, with a strange far-away look in her eyes. Not quite certain what the comment related to, Helen looked over, intending to ask if she should make some, but Ashley was still talking. “When I was upset, we’d sit in here and you’d make me cocoa, because you said I was too young to be drinking tea, even though I wanted to drink what you were drinking.”
Swallowing against the tears that threatened, Helen could only nod. “I did, yes,” she agreed. Though she tried for matter of fact, she didn’t quite make it. “You remember.” It wasn’t a question, but the answering nod made her feel like a weight had come off that she hadn’t known was quite so heavy.
For the first time since they sat down, Ashley smiled, and nodded again. “I guess I do, at least a little bit. A lot of what I remember is so dark, so violent. It’s good to know it wasn’t all like that. I keep feeling like I owe you an apology, for hurting you, for leaving you, for not remembering. I don’t know.” Running her hand through her hair, she looked down at the table top. Just when she thought she understood all the things she felt guilty about, new ones would pop out of nowhere.
Rather than upsetting her more, this revelation made Helen feel like she was back on ground she could cope with. “Ashley, look at me,” she directed. Once they were looking at each other again, she continued. “None of what happened to you was your fault. I can’t lie to you and tell you that losing you didn’t hurt me. Of course it did. But the pain I went through is not your responsibility. You aren’t gone. You’re right here with me. I will never stop being grateful for that, no matter what you end up able to remember. If you can’t believe anything else, at least believe that, alright? The rest will come.” Though she seemed uncertain, Ashley eventually nodded in agreement. After such an intense moment, it was no surprise that the blonde claimed fatigue and left only a little bit later. That was alright though because Helen needed a chance to get herself back under control anyway.
It was such a stupid little thing. Hearing her daughter remember the cocoa had almost managed to reduce her to tears. Imagine, the great Helen Magnus reduced to crying over a hot beverage. Laughing a little at herself, she walked out of the kitchen toward her room. It didn’t matter if she was upset, there was no one there to see it. Steps from her room, the awareness prickled at the back of her neck and she sighed. “John, it’s late. I need to sleep.” She simply didn’t have the energy to control herself around him tonight. One emotionally wrenching scene was enough for a night.
“I know,” John told her, the measured acknowledgment at odds with the pain she could sense he was controlling. Separate from all their other issues, she knew he felt things more deeply than he would ever admit. Losing Ashley had destroyed him in some fundamental way, that even living with the Ripper within him hadn’t managed to damage. Knowing that truth didn’t make spending time with him a good idea though.
“Are you alright?” she asked. Are you yourself, under control, she meant. But of course, he knew that.
“For the moment,” was the answer, as he pushed away from where he’d been standing against the wall. “I know I should go. I know I really have no right to ask you about her, even now. Maybe especially not now,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to know.” He paused, while she opened her door, and there was a flash of surprise in his eyes when she opened it wide enough to be a clear invitation.
Once they were in her sitting room, she put extra care into closing the door. “She’s as well as can be expected,” Helen told him, knowing that would be his first question. Though a part of her wanted to pace, she dropped into a chair, kicking off her shoes with a sigh. Even with her eyes shut, she knew he moved behind her, but she also trusted that he would leave before he would allow his darker side to hurt her. The sense of him so close, the smell of him… She was too tired to have any defense at all when the longing surged up as it always did. Somehow the pain had gotten sharper since they’d discovered the truth behind his darker side. It had never been something he chose, and the fact that he could control it at all was miraculous. It made her feel better knowing he hadn’t chosen darkness over her all those years ago. It also didn’t erase the guilt of knowing he was only playing host to the monster because of her. He’d never have accepted it back if it wasn’t to save her. Oh he’d told her otherwise, but she wasn’t naive enough to believe him.
Moving slowly so she could tell him to back off, John came closer, laying his hands on her shoulders and rubbing at the knots he’d known he would find. The pain of touching her, while knowing he couldn’t have her had become familiar. It didn’t matter if it hurt him. Even miracles took their toll. There were shadows beneath her eyes and she was so tense a headache was inevitable. He understood. Having Ashley back was wonderful. Having her not know them was a fresh layer of hurt, topping a never-ending list. If she did remember her life, she would also remember all the things the Cabal made her do. Nothing he could say that would make it better. He stayed silent, continuing his massage.
When he felt the shoulders beneath his hands begin to shake, he knew she was crying. He allowed himself the pleasure of urging her to turn around, rearranging them so she was curled up against him. Feeling the tears begin to soak his shirt, he shifted until he was a bit more comfortable. For once, his dark companion seemed willing to be quiet, so he would hold her as long as was necessary. He was one of the few who understood how hard it was for Helen to let go of the strict control she imposed on her emotions. Maybe he couldn’t make any of it easier, but at the very least, she would know she wasn’t alone. That would have to be enough.
***
Old City Sanctuary
Library
9:05 am
There were a few more people at the table than she was used to, but Helen was smiling as she waited for everyone to take their places. It was still a joy to look down and see Ashley back with them. Granted, her memory was still a problem, and learning to control the powers the Cabal had forced on her was not exactly an easy task. Stacked up against her being here at all, those hardly seemed like obstacles.
Henry wandered in, talking to Willow on his bluetooth. That was a romance she hadn’t seen coming but was definitely pleased about. It had seemed more likely that Dean and Kate might get together but judging by the casual cuff Kate gave Dean on her way to grab some coffee, they had developed a kind of sibling dynamic. As she watched, Ashley joined the fun, catching his other side. The women laughed at his angry look.
Looking at the scene, she had to ignore a stab of pain. How much she wished that John had been able to stay longer. But she shouldn’t complain because she didn’t have everything. John would come if and when he could, whenever he could control the monster inside him. If she juggled her duties well enough, perhaps she would be able to look into ways to help him. Picking up her tablet, she keyed in a note to herself about it. Glancing at her watch, she was about to get things started when the tray of pasties on the sideboard caught her eye. She’d meant to have breakfast but lost the time to eat when her conference call had gone over. Instead of being annoyed though, even that was so normal it made her smile.
Sam came in, followed closely by Will. That was another relationship she hadn’t seen coming, but it seemed to be good for both of them. They were being terribly discreet about it, but certain signals were obvious no matter how much effort went into trying to hide them. Since they didn’t want anyone to know, she was keeping quiet about it.
Odds were there would be rather amusing fireworks when Dean found out, given how protective he was of his brother. They were all adults, so it was their business. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy the show, but that was hardly the point. What was important was that they were all moving on, settling back into life. Whatever came next they would all deal with it. Speaking of, she had business that needed dealing with.
“Good morning, everyone,” she announced, just loud enough to get their attention. “I’m so glad you could all join us on this lovely morning. I don’t have a great deal of news to present, but I wanted to check in with everybody.” It only took a moment to look around the table, but no one spoke up, so she continued. “I’m sure you all understand that we need to be on our guard against whatever fallout there is from our recent activities.” There were nods all around.
“To that end, I should let you know that I’ve given Sam and Dean clearance as expert consultants. They’ve agreed to stick around to see if they can help us anticipate what the next moves are going to be,” Helen explained. “Officially, their clearance is only for this branch, but unofficially, they’re to be shown anything they want to know,” she added, in case anyone was unclear. No one argued. Instead, Henry laughed and shoved against Will’s shoulder. “Pay up, dude. I told you,” he exclaimed in obvious satisfaction. Despite her usual standard of professionalism, Helen laughed before she could hold it back. Yes, they could definitely deal with whatever came next.
***fin***
****for now****