The Next World
Madison, Wisconsin, Present Day
Catherine sighed. She slowly moved her foot off of the Transformer action figure that she had painfully stepped on in the darkened hallway. Alex's. She kicked it gently aside with her bare foot and padded quietly to her son's door, craning her neck slowly around the door jam to peer in at his, hopefully, sleeping form.
No such luck.
"You should be sleeping, little mister," she said in pseudo-scolding tone, smiling despite herself. Her son had the blanket pulled up in a tent over his head, and a light shone through the blanket. She heard the crinkle of paper and a Captain America comic book fell out from under the blanket to hit the floor. The light clicked off and the blanket fell. Catherine's smile broadened and she shook her head.
"Not fooling' me," she said, moving into the small bedroom. She caught herself glancing around. It was a nice, safe, room. They had just moved in a week and a half ago.
Safe.
They had promised her that her son would be safe.
She pulled the cover back. Her son lay on his side with his eyes squeezed shut, feigning a soft snore. She tousled his brown hair and tickled his neck. He squealed and wriggled away.
"Mooooommmmmm! Cut it out! I was to asleep!"
She grinned. "Not a chance", she answered, swiping up the comic and shaking it demonstratively in front of him. He pulled up the covers over his mouth and rolled his eyes.
"Mmm-Hmmm," Catherine said, tapping him with her finger on his forehead, smiling as he winced. "Sleep. Now."
"M-kay," came the muffled response. "Love you, mom:"
"Love you,too," Catherine said, twisting her mouth sarcastically as she pulled the Avengers-motive smartphone out from under the covers and waggled it in triumph. "No more comics tonight."
Alex narrowed his eyes in simulated outrage, then let out a huff and pulled his blankets the rest of the way over his head.
Catherine lowered her head and planted a kiss on the lump where his head was. "Night, night."
"Nymmft, nymmmtt," came the reply.
Catherine smiled and stood up, heading for the door.
The air turned cold, and she watched her breath condense in the air in front of her.
A low, subtle drum beat began to emanate from the kitchen; rhythmic, steady.
Cold.
"Oh…no…no…mercy…no…." Catherine whispered, tears coming to her eyes. She turned back to Alex, who was suddenly sitting upright in bed.
"Mommie….what is that….is that….?"
Catherine felt cold shock run through her. She whipped her head back around towards the drumbeat, then back towards her son. She involuntarily let out a small whimper and nodded slowly.
"I'm sorry, baby…but…"
"No no no no NO NO NO NO no no no NO!" Alex cried, gathering the blankets to his chest. "It's too soon! We just got here! They PROMISED!"
Catherine blinked through the tears at her son as she felt a cool, calculating calm come over her. She looked down at her shaking hand and turned on her son's phone, pulling up the contacts list.
"They never told us when, Alex...I…I need you to be strong, baby," she mumbled. She scrolled through the names until she came to one marked "Aunt Sadie".
"You need to call your Aunt. When I'm…." she swallowed hard. "Oh, God, God no….." she said, sinking to her knees.
At some point Alex had got out of his bed and was hugging her tightly. He slammed the bedroom door closed, but the drumbeat sounded through it, losing none of it's urgency. If anything, it seemed to be increasing in it's insistence.
"Honey bear, honey-bear…I….Mommy can't stay here, baby, I can't… know what will happen if I don't go now…."
Alex hugged her neck even tighter.
The drums began to pound more and more rapidly. She took in a ragged breath. If she didn't go…..she looked down at her son….no….no….she would never let that happen to Alex….
"Baby, baby, call your Aunt Sadie…." Catherine said, lending as much authority to her voice as she could possible muster. Alex leaned back and blinked at her with tear-stained eyes. Catherine peeled herself away and opened the door, her motions slow and languid, as if she was in a trance.
Somewhere behind her she heard Alex snuffling and the sound of his Smartphone dialing, the sleepy voice of her sister answering on the other end, Alex….
"Auntie Sadie….Auntie Sadie….it's Mommy, she's being Called….now….it's happening now, " he whined nasally into the phone, emphasizing the last word with urgency "….what do I do….what do I do…?"
Catherine moved forward mechanically to the door in the kitchen. The door that the New Herald priests had installed just a few days ago….the door to….
She shivered and hugged herself. She had promised. Her son would live so long as she went when the New Heralds called her.
She would make the sacrifice. Her family would be allowed to live.
She.
Promised.
Her mind raced…I just never thought it would be me…..
She found herself staring at the door. The symbol of a cross and a snake wreathed in flames was carved into the ashen wood. It glowed, the light pulsing in rhythm to the drumbeats.
Oh God…..where are you? Why have you abandoned us?
Her hand touched the handle and the door swung easily inward, leading to seemingly nowhere.
Pure darkness faced her, purer and darker than anything she had ever seen. And inside that darkness, something moved.
The slimy, dark form unfolded itself from the dark, making practically no sound. She stared in mute horror as it reached out a clawed hand and grasped her arm, sending jolts of icy cold up her arm.
"Mommy?!"
"Go back to bed, baby," she heard herself muttering. "Aunt Sadie will take care of everything. Don't be….don't be scared. Can you do that for me? Don't be scared? Be like….be like Captain America….ok?"
She heard Alex sniffle and perhaps say something in agreement, but couldn't make out any of his words.
She felt like she was million miles away as the Old One grew larger and larger in front of her eyes. Her vision darkened. Sound became a low roar of noise. She closed her eyes.
For Alex…..
Her eyes snapped open as a jangling, annoying sound pierced the eerie silence.
Was that….the doorbell!?
The Old One's head swung around to the door, snapping to rapt attention, its body quivering, visibly angered at the interruption. Catherine watched as she saw Alex scamper across the floor and fling the door open, not looking at the monstrosity that loomed over his mother.
"Who are you?" she heard him ask. "Can you help us….please? My mommy….she's being Called….and it's only been a day or two, can you help my mommy?"
"Yes, actually, I believe that we can," came a gravelly response.
Catherine turned her head slowly towards the front door and away from the Old One, it's rancid breath and slavering jaws. It began to growl in warning at the pair of figures standing in her front door. She felt it's hand tighten on her forearm.
One of the men strode in through the entrance, gently moving her sobbing son to the side. "Let. Her. Go," he growled. There was a flash of something silver and a long blade appeared in his hand, produced from somewhere inside his long, tan trenchcoat. His eyes blazed white and she caught a flash of movement behind him, something that reminded her faintly of….wings? Were those wings?
The Old One roared in defiance and pulled Catherine closer to it. She gasped as she was suddenly completely enfolded in the iron grip of the things arms, pressed against it's wet, cold body.
"You don't listen so good, do you?" said the second man, striding forward. His was wearing an immaculate suit and tie, but his eyes burned bright red. Catherine felt her breath catch in her throat. Was it them? The Heretics themselves?
"No, no, no!" she screamed, "Stay away! If you don't let me do this….!"
The man with the red eyes rolled them in exasperation and flung out his hand with his fingers spread. Catherine felt a tug of power as suddenly she and the Old One were forcibly dragged out of the door's entrance. The one in the trench coat sprinted forward and slammed it shut, dragging his blade across the glowing symbol of the Heralds.
There was a screeching sound and a hiss of smoke as the symbol stopped pulsing. The Old One spun in anger, bellowing, shaking the walls. Catherine was flung around like a rag doll, unable to escape it's grasp.
"Oh, shut up," the red- eyed man growled, as another wave of invisible force shoved the creature back towards his partner and the closed door. It sunk it's clawed feet into the floor attempting to stop itself, tearing out long, ragged gouges in the pressed-wood floor and whipping it's head back around to snarl at the red-eyed man.
The creature let out a bellow of pain and reared it's head back as a silver tip exploded from it's chest. The man in the trench coat grabbed it around it's thick neck from behind and shoved the blade deeper into it's back. Catherine watched as spiderwebs of white fire began blossoming out from around the tip of the weapon all through the Old One's skin. Black smoke began to seep from it's pores, smelling like a sewage drain. The Old One's body tensed, and then, finally, slumped lifeless to the floor, letting out a similar hissing noise as the ruined Herald symbol.
Catherine let the arm of the Old One slip from hers, letting it fall to the floor with a wet slap. She stared down at the crature's body, dumbfounded.
"What have you done….?" she whispered, incredulous.
"I would think that'd be obvious," the man in the suit said. "A simple ‚Thank-You' might be nice."
Catherine lifted her eyes to the man and frowned. She turned to the other man and felt her shoulders slump. "You're them, aren't you? The Heretics….Castiel and Crowley."
"In the flesh," Crowley replied smugly.
"You…..you two just….killed my son…." she whispered.
"Oh come now," Crowley said, rubbing Alex's head. "Everything looks fine here, doesn't it?" He looked down at the boy and frowned. "So, tell me, how old is the little tyke, anyway?" there was an obvious hint of danger and tension in the air with his question.
Catherine paled, a new panic filling her. "No, no, please don't...don't hurt him... he was born eight years ago, truly, he's not…he's not one of…..them," she finished, looking down at the heap of dark flesh still smoking on the floor.
"Are you sure?" Crowley asked, raising his eyes to his partner.
The angel moved around Catherine and knelt in front of the boy. He gently placed two fingers on the boy's forehead and closed his own eyes. He frowned and straightened up, shaking his head.
"He's human. Not a hybrid," he said dryly.
"Well then," Crowley said, beaming. "That's that, then. What say we get you and your little certified human out of this place, shall we?"
"Do you really think that you can protect me from….them?" she said, undisguised contempt in her voice as she glanced at the ruined Herald symbol. "Everyone knows the story. The priests made it a point to tell all of the faithful. You couldn't even save your own friends from Lord Michael and Lord Lucifer."
Castiel sighed and shook his head. "I promise you, we'll keep you and your family safe. But you have to come with us. Now."
Catherine stood up numbly, not seeing an alternative. She shrugged weakly and let her hands fall back limply to her sides. "Where?"
Crowley wordlessly grabbed her hand and her house instantly disappeared around her. She found herself and Alex in a large warehouse. There were military-style cots set up all over the concrete floor, and an area that looked like a kitchen where stovetops simmered with what smelled like stew. There was an area cordoned off with police tape that had a simple sign hanging over it that read ‚Operations'. Several men with weapons of all types moved in and out of that area. A few of them tipped their caps in their direction or nodded in greeting at them as they moved by.
"Welcome," Crowley said quietly. "To the Resistance."
Ten months earlier - Stull Cemetery
...shortly before the world ends...
Michael raised his sword, and all of the light from the stars in the sky reflected in the blade and it began to glow with a blue-white light. Lucifer, in turn, raised his hands, trailing black smoke and brimstone from his clenched fists, the smell of fire and sulfur filling this air.
"Let's get this Apocalypse on, then, shall we? What d'ya say?"
"Dean! Dean! Can you hear me?!" Castiel shouted desperately. "Fight him! Fight! You can do it! Fight! Sam! ! You've beaten him before! You can do it again! You have to!"
"I'll only need a second, really..." Crowley snarled, raising the Staff of Moses like a rifle to his hip. "I'll split them from their vessels and then they're in for it...they'll never find another..."
"NO, CROWLEY!" Castiel shouted, spinning and grabbing the Staff, forcing its point into the ground. "You'll kill Sam and Dean!"
Crowley's brows knit together in confusion as he shook his head in disbelief. He re-focused on Castiel, glaring at him as if he were mad.
"They're already dead, Castiel! Look at them!"
Castiel blinked, shaking his head in denial.
"I said LOOK AT THEM!" Crowley roared, yanking the Staff free and gesturing at the two Archangels. Michael, inhabiting Dean's body, held his sword poised to strike, hatred burning in his eyes. Lucifer, in Sam's, had his head cocked to the side, watching them curiously.
Castiel looked up slowly at Sam and Dean, and quickly shut his eyes in pain, quickly turning back to Crowley.
"No, Crowley...just...no...I can't..."
"Well, it's a good thing one of us can..." Crowley muttered, raising the Staff of Moses in both hands and pointing it directly at Michael and Lucifer.
Castiel's eyes widened in horror as a blast of sheer white-hot power shot out from the Staff, shaking the air and ground around them like a bomb had gone off.
With a grunt, Michael held up his sword with both hands in the middle of the stream of power like a shield. The fire streamed around and off to the sides. Michael lowered his shoulder and his head, struggling to deflect the blast.
"Hey Bro!" Lucifer shouted over the roar of noise, his eyes twinkling with undisguised malice. "Remember that part in that Hobbit movie when the Witch King came for Gandalf?"
"I'm sure..." Michael grunted through clenched teeth. "...that I have no idea what you are talking about..."
Lucifer rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Nerd," he muttered, holding out his hand with palm outstretched.
The Staff in Crowley's hands began to tremble and glow brighter and brighter.
"Your Staff is broken!" Lucifer shouted mirthfully with Sam Winchester's voice. Cobwebs of cracks erupted all over the surface of the Staff of Moses, and with a wave of force and an ear-splitting crack, it shattered into a thousand shards.
Crowley was flung backwards into a gravestone, cracking the stone. He held up his empty hands slowly, examining them in shock, before slowly raising his eyes to the Angel and Demon.
"Good luck finding another one..." Lucifer said coldly, raising his eyebrows at Crowley. His eyes glowed red and he raised his hand again. "Time to die now, 'King of Hell'. See you real soon."
Crowley felt the earth below him shift, then move aside. He looked down, frowning, seeing a hand begin to emerge from the ground. He spun his head around, looking for what he hoped was the miracle that he was waiting for.
His mouth twisted into a grin. Lucifer cocked his head, his hand lowering.
"What's so funny?"
"Oh nothing," Crowley growled. "It's just that it appears that the cavalry has just arrived."
Lucifer and Michael stepped back as one and scanned around them. The Heralds emerged from the shadows and fell into a tight, protective defensive circle around the pair.
The earth around them erupted as bodies began to claw their way free from their graves. They moaned in a gruesome symphony and began to shamble forward.
"Leon..." the Herald Sarah said sardonically, her mouth twisting into a malicious smile. "Oh, please. Come on out where we can see you, loser!" she shouted. "Or did you really think a few zombies are going to stop us?"
"They ain't there to stop you, bitch," Leon's voice called out from somewhere in the darkness. "They're there to distract you."
"Distract...?"
"Now!" came another shout from the sky directly above the group of Heralds, Michael and Lucifer.
Three forms landed with a jolting crash that shook the earth in their midst, scattering them to the ground. Only Michael and Lucifer kept their feet, leaping deftly back a few feet to gain some distance.
Michael's eyes narrowed. "Gabriel...well, of course, that figures...and Issiah? Obidiah? Don't tell me that you have thrown in your fate with this lot..."
Issiah flashed his teeth, hands grasping a glowing Angelic broadsword. "Michael, you have gone mad!"
"Look at yourself! You speak of throwing our fate away, and you...you have aligned yourself with the Most Foul!" Obidiah shouted, gesturing with his own sword at Lucifer, fury in his eyes. "You would wage war against your own kin, against the Holy Throne itself!"
"That Throne abandoned me to my fate," Michael growled, his sword glowing. "I am simply taking the next logical action, and re-claiming my rightful place in Heaven." He shrugged nonchalantly. "And since it appears that Father doesn't want to occupy that aforementioned Throne anyway, I might as well take it for myself."
"And what if He does want that?" Gabriel said, leveling his stare at Michael. "What if He never really left it in the first place? Rather worked His will in an indirect way?"
Michael sneered. "Then, dear brother, I would suggest that He, and anyone else that still continues to do His will, get the hell out of our way."
The Heralds had regained their feet and were standing to Michael and Lucifer's sides, spread out in a V-formation, Angel Blades held high.
"My Heralds!" Michael cried out in a commanding, booming voice. "The New Dawn is upon is all! This Archangel here," he said pointing his sword in Gabriel's direction. " is the last key standing between us and our access to the power of Creation itself!" A wind came up, and despite the continuous groan and shuffling footsteps of the army of Undead that Leon had summoned, the night grew unusually still.
"Kill him," Michael whispered.
The Heralds and their Masters rushed forward at the Angels, swords flashing. Gabriel and his two companions danced back from the furious assault, swords countering in glowing archs that rang out into the night air like crashes of thunder. They fell further and further back as the Heralds pressed relentlessly forward, leading them into the wall of zombies.
All Hell broke loose.
The zombies began grasping, biting and clawing at the enemy. The Heralds dispatched them quickly enough, their superior strength and speed more than enough to dismantle the individual attackers and small groups, but the numbers began to overwhelm even the group of Archangels – there was simply too much mass there. The Heralds began to find themselves separated into islands of furious melees, losing their coordinated and focused attack formation.
Castiel had rushed to Crowley when the fight erupted, helping him to his feet. He gritted his teeth and stared into the fight, eyes narrowing.
"We've got to get in there, protect Gabriel..." he hissed, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. "What is he even doing here? Doesn't he know what will happen if they destroy him?"
Crowley nodded in agreement. "We've got to get him out of there..." He squinted at the fight, grunting as he took a hesitant step forward. He arched an eyebrow at Castiel. "Any ideas as to how we're to accomplish that minor miracle?"
"By staying out of it and coming with me," a voice said from behind them. Crowley and Castiel spun to face Jesse, who was watching the fight intensely. He nodded and then met Castiel and Crowley's eyes. "Trust me, he's got this."
Castiel arched an eyebrow in question. "'Got this'? 'Got this' how?"
Jesse smiled. "Superior firepower. Now c'mon, we can't stay here..."
Hesitantly, and with several looks back, Castiel and Crowley followed Jesse back to where David was waiting with a half-conscious Rowena.
"Oh. Good. You made it." Crowley said dryly, looking down at his mother. She returned his look with a half-hearted smile.
"Now, now lamb, be nice to your escape route," she said, drawing lines in the packed earth.
"A portal?" Crowley asked, frowning at her work. "A portal to where?"
"The hell out of here, for starters," Rowena grunted. "Or did you want to stick around here with Mega-Sam and Dean?" She shook her head. "Oh you really screwed the pooch with that one, lamb."
"Yeah, well, they kind of blind-sided us with 'that one', mother," Crowley mumbled. "Won't happen again." He frowned. "And why do we need to flee anyway? I thought we had 'superior firepower'."
Rowena glanced up at David and Jesse with a look of concern and doubt on her face. Jesse shook his head. "We do. Kind of. It's...unreliable..."
"Wait just a minute...unreliable how?" Crowley asked. "What exactly do you have here?"
Back in the combat zone, Michael and Lucifer cut through huge swaths of zombies as if they were barely there, closing in on the retreating Angels, moving farther and farther away from the swarmed-under Heralds. They eventually broke through a solid wall of zombies and found themselves face-to-face across an open area from Gabriel and the two Angels.
"Out of room, out of time, out of copies, too, Gabriel, if I'm reading your energy signature correctly. Looks just like it was when you were newly minted. Not a single piece missing." Michael said dangerously, advancing forward.
"Well, can't fault you for being inaccurate," Gabriel smirked. "But it's not us that's out of time, 'bro'."
Michael smiled widely. " I will enjoy severing that apish head from that body of yours, Gabriel, and taking that ridiculous grin with it. You never could take a thing seriously. Even your own death, it seems."
"And you always were, and still are, a gigantic bag of dicks, Michael," Gabriel shot back. He cupped his hands around his mouth and turned away. "NOW!"
Issiah and Obidiah simultaneously crouched down, turning their heads away.
"What...?" Lucifer said, frowning.
A girl ran out from the behind them, carrying a ridiculously huge elaborately carved, golden chest, supported by two wooden poles, carrying it as if weighed nothing. She slammed it to the ground and in one motion pulled one the staves free and swung it at the golden chest's lid, knocking it to the ground. She also turned away, covering her head.
"Kinsey...?!" Michael said, puzzled.
"Wait...is that...?" Lucifer asked.
"Ark of the Covenant, bitches," Kinsey said from behind the chest. "Told 'em I could carry it..."
"Brother! Turn away!" Michael screamed, ducking and flinging himself into an ungainly sprint across the field.
"Too late..." Lucifer whispered, watching in morbid fascination as the swirling mist rose from Ark, coalescing into Angelic forms wielding swords. One faced him, turning it's head to the side.
"Luuuuuccciiiiffffeeerrrrr..." it howled, the air itself freezing as it's breath touched it.
The world around Lucifer and Micheal exploded.
The three Angels and Kinsey scrambled away in the opposite direction, heading to the per-arranged meeting place. After what seemed like an eternity dashing past the ghostly, dark forms of headstones in the night, they reached Rowena and the rest of their group.
"What happened? Did it work?" Jesse asked.
"Oh, it didn't not work, Gabriel answered, eyebrows raised. "As to how well it worked, we'll have to find that out later, I'm afraid. Right now, I suggest that it's vamanoose time."
Castiel shook his head. "The Ark of the Covenant, Gabriel? That is..."
"Pure Wrath of God, Castiel, I know. The good part is, even if it didn't manage to kill Michael and Lucifer, we can be sure that they can't take it for themselves."
"How's that?" Crowley asked.
"They're part Demon now, "Gabriel replied, grimacing. "Both of 'em" He shook his head. "They can''t wield it."
"Wait a second, Kinsey just did," Castiel protested. "She got her power from them."
Gabriel grinned. "Yeah, well, let me tell you something. Whatever evil she may or may not have had in her before? She's definitely on the side of the Angels now." Kinsey smiled. Gabriel frowned and looked up at Rowena. "How's that portal coming?"
"Almost there..." Rowena answered, brow furrowed in concentration.
An enormous howl of rage erupted from the center of the cemetery. The trees around them shook and the gravestones themselves shattered.
"GAABBBRRRRIIIEEELLLL!" Michael's voice boomed into the air. Blue and red fire snaked out in all directions, racing across the ground towards them.
"Not to put too fine a point on it, Rowena, but now might be a good time..." Gabriel said quietly, gulping.
The portal opened and they all fell through it. It snapped shut quickly behind them as the fire reached it, decimating everything around it, burning even the air itself.
The Roman Cartaphilus stopped in the street and frowned to himself, turning his head slowly back towards the cafe he had just passed.
It cannot be...
His pace quickened and he strode through the door, scanning the customers. His eyes rested on the long-haired, bearded man sitting in the booth sipping tea and felt his mouth open involuntarily in dumbfounded wonder.
It cannot be...
He moved swiftly towards the man, bodily shoving the waitress aside, her scream of protest ignored. The man looked up, surprised. Cartaphilus, not stopping, reached out and grabbed the mans arms, desperately scanning them.
They were muscled and hairy, but bore no mark...
Cartaphilus looked helplessly into the other man's eyes, his jaw working.
"Ca...Cain...?!"
A look of recognition flashed across Cain's face, and it drained of blood in shock and horror.
"No...you...Cartaphilus...no...please...old friend...please..."
Cartaphilus dropped 'Cain's' arms and numbly stepped back.
"Who...what... are you...?" he muttered, drawing his sword, ignoring the raucous shouts and scrambling of the customers behind him.
'Cain's' eyes widened as he started to rise. "no...no...please..."
The Roman's sword darted out in a flash, cutting the throat of the man before him. He watched in disbelief as the body dropped to the floor. Cartaphilus blinked several times, then walked over and nudged the body over with his boot. He stared down at the lifeless face of Cain, feeling a cold dread racing through his body.
"What is going on here...?!" he asked rhetorically, teeth clenched. He spun at the rapidly emptying cafe and sheathed his sword. He walked out of the door as the police car pulled up. He barely broke stride as the officer ordered him to stop, and subsequently fired his weapon into his back. With a snarl of impatience and rage, he stared back at the policeman until the officer dove back into his car, shouting desperately for back-up into his radio.
The Mark.
Where was the Mark?!
The man chained to the wet concrete wall raised his grizzled head slowly, once more reading the symbols and runecrafting in his prison. He shook his head in helplessness.
Of course they were perfect. Of course there was no flaw.
What else would he have expected?
He stared down at his arm hanging from the runed manacles.
The Mark glowed and pulsed in the dark.