Half Life
a/n: Here we go, as promised, the sequel to "Half of Something Else." I would recommend reading that one if you haven't. It isn't strictly necessary, but there are definitely things that'll confuse you. This picks up within hours of where "Something Else" leaves off, so...yeah.
As I said in my last author's note for Half1, I have a ton of ideas for this story; however, I am struggling just a bit to transfer those ideas onto paper. Your kind and generous reviews are always very helpful for inspiration!
Chapter 1: Enter the Prophet
I keep trying to understand
This thing and that thing,
My fellow man.
I guess I'll let you know
When I figure it out.
-Duncan Sheik, "Half-life"
Dean stuck his head around the heavy metal door and glanced around. "If anyone's fuckin' in here, it better not be on the table! People eat on that table!"
"Dean, geez," Sam said from behind him.
"What? I'm not kidding."
"Would you just go inside? This thing is heavy as hell, and I'm beat."
Dean opened the door wider and let Sam go ahead of him. He followed his brother inside and secured the door behind them. The bunker's main room looked empty, and someone had cleaned up. The books had been put away, and all the old beer bottles cleared out. The door to Meg's room was closed, but within a few minutes it opened and Cas appeared.
Sam set the lockbox on the table with a relieved sigh. "Hey, Cas," he said. "Everything okay here?"
"All is well. Meg is resting. She was…wounded in the confrontation with Crowley and might be some time recovering."
"Wounded?" Dean said. "She's a demon. Don't they have super healing powers kinda like angels?"
He hesitated. After the strange incident in the shower, they hadn't discussed her injury or its possible implications. They hadn't discussed anything at all. She'd fallen asleep curled against him, and he'd watched over her and waited for the Winchesters to return. He had no idea how much, if anything, she wanted them to know.
"Crowley stabbed her with an angel blade. It is not a typical injury," he finally said.
Sam grimaced in sympathy. "She's gonna be all right though, won't she?"
Cas' expression stilled. His eyes flicked away. "We should find out what's inside the box."
Dean and Sam exchanged long, wordless looks."Yeah, Cas," Dean finally said. "Let's do that." Whatever was up with Meg, Cas would either tell them, or he wouldn't. Either way, there wasn't much they could do about it now, and they had other things to worry about.
"Have you heard anything from Naomi?" Sam said as Dean went off in search of a hammer and a crowbar.
"Nothing since we left Marguerite, at least that I know of. Meg hasn't mentioned any lapses on my part, so I think for now I'm in the clear. The wards here help, I'm sure." His brow furrowed and he looked around. "Sometime you'll have to tell me about this place."
"It was sort of a gift. From our grandfather."
"Samuel?"
"No," Sam said. "The other one. Henry Winchester."
"Ah, yes. I do recall that the Winchester line was the intellectual side of the family." He studied Sam carefully, his eyes dark and probing. "There is great power here, Sam. I hope you and Dean understand the responsibility you've been given."
"I think we've got some idea, Cas. We're legacies, after all," Dean said with a grin. He clapped the angel on the shoulder and brandished the tools he'd found. "Let's see what's in the box!"
"I'm uncertain force will produce the desired results," Cas said. "Remy would have taken precautions."
"Hum," Dean said. "I've met very few problems that couldn't be solved with a good crowbar. Besides, that lock looks like shit. One good smack. Sammy?"
Sam held out his hands and Dean tossed the crowbar to him. The elder Winchester appraised the box from various angles before he took a step back and raised the hammer. Cas shifted nervously but decided against further intercession. Dean cast a smirk over his shoulder at the angel and his brother and took a huge swing at the rickety old box.
There was a deafening clang like a mighty bell, and a blinding flash. Dean was thrown backwards into Sam, and they tumbled like rag dolls until the wall stopped them. Cas staggered against the force of the blast, and as the tumult quieted, he raised his head to wipe a trickle of blood from his nose. Meg's door opened behind them and the demon stumbled out, her hands clasped over her ears.
"What the fuck did you morons just do?" she cried.
"Jesus Christ," Dean said. He couldn't move. For a few panicked heartbeats he thought he'd been really hurt, like paralyzed or something. Then he realized he was just stunned by the blast, and he slowly lurched to his feet and helped Sam up next to him. They reeled like drunkards and leaned against the wall as the bunker spun around them in identical ringing orbits.
"Think I'm gonna puke," Sam muttered.
"Is the room actually moving, or is it me?" Dean said.
"Neither, you idiot," Meg said with disgust. She handed Sam a trashcan and led him to a chair. When she came back for Dean he tried to resist, but she smacked him on the shoulder and he gave up. When they were both seated she gave Cas a tissue and fixed all three of them with a stern death glare. She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped a small bare foot against the cold stone floor.
"Okay. Now who's gonna tell me what's going on out here? Recreating Three Mile Island for shits and giggles?"
"I did say force was a bad idea," Cas said. He sagged into a chair and pressed the tissue against his nose. His coat looked more rumpled than ever, and his hair stood up in a corona around his head.
Meg's brows flicked toward her hairline and she circled the table. "Is this it?" she said. "This old thing is what Remy was hiding in his house?" She reached out a tentative hand to touch the rusting lockbox, but hesitated before her fingers made contact with the metal. "What's in it?"
"That's what we were trying to find out," Dean said in a worn voice. "Clearly a hammer was a bad idea."
She cast around a moment and scampered off. Returned with a barely recognizable bit of metal and tossed it on the table. "This hammer? Yeah, I'd say that was a bust."
"Guess the crowbar's out," Sam said. He made a face at the trashcan and set it aside.
She leaned closer and studied the box through narrow eyes. She moved her left shoulder in an odd, restless sort of way, and eventually she reached up to rub it distractedly. Cas frowned, and Sam and Dean exchanged a loaded look.
"Meg," Cas said, his voice steady and quiet.
"It's got some serious mojo, but that's obvious. There's angel shit goin' on, but somethin' else, too. I guess that's probably Remy's work." Her head tilted. "Warded. Against angels. Demons, too. Not humans. Probably not humans. You could probably find these wards in your books and undo them without big nasty explosions."
A silence fell.
"You can tell all that just by lookin' at it?" Dean said.
She glanced back, her mouth twisted in a droll smile. "Cas could too if he'd just bothered. Maybe not the demon part, but he doesn't like to sully his sweet innocence." She winked at him, and he shifted in his seat.
"You should step away, Meg," he said.
"What? You think I'm gonna try to mess with your angel business? Hell no. I don't want these anti-demon things to fry my brain."
"No, it's not that." He touched her arm and pulled her back, gently but firmly.
"What, Clarence? I'm tryin' to help here. Unruffle your feathers!"
He let out an impatient sigh. "It's your wound. It glows brighter when you get close to the box. It was bothering you when you were close to it, wasn't it?"
She looked away with a scowl.
"Meg, I could tell."
"We all could," Sam said after a moment.
"You told them?" she said to Cas, a whip-sharp accusation.
"I told them a little. They should know what's happening, Meg, but I'll only tell them as much as you wish."
"That's bullshit," Dean said. "We need to know what's up with you, Meg. If you want to be here, if you want us to help you—"
"Help me? Dean Winchester, help a demon? You must've hit your head harder than I thought."
"Oh, get off it." He rose to his feet, his legs still shaky, and squared off in front of her. She was such a tiny thing that sometimes he had to remind himself how powerful she really was. Now, when he felt weakened by the weird explosion and the room had the sickening tendency to take unexpected loops and dives, it was more important than ever to remember.
"Look, I don't pretend to understand what's goin' on between you and Cas. You're a demon, he's an angel, it's some sort of weird 'opposites attract' type thing. Okay, whatever. Bottom line is my idiot buddy, the holy tax accountant who's like another brother to me, cares about you. As much as I hate to admit it, you've come through for us when it's mattered. You've come through for Cas. It doesn't cancel out the shit you did before, but…whatever.
"I said we were with you, and that means you're with us. You got that? That means if you're hurt and you need help, we fuckin' help you. You don't want to tell us what's going on, that's just fine. But remember that we're tryin' really hard to trust you, Meg, and maybe to do that we need a little bit of trust from you, too."
She crossed her arms again and smiled up at him, sharp and teasing. Despite her struggle to hide it, something flickered through her eyes, something real, and he saw the pain and fear she hated so much and he understood it.
"You are havin' one hell of a bad year, aren't you?" he said.
She let out a rough laugh. "Yeah, Deano, I sure as fuck am." She sighed and rubbed her forehead, mussing her bangs and attempting to soothe the tension there. "Crowley stabbed me with an angel sword. It should've killed me, but I guess because it missed anything vital, I live to fight another day. Apparently it created some sort of…permanent wound in my true form, my demon self. Clarence can see it. I can feel it." She shrugged her good shoulder. "Neither of us really knows what it means."
"Is it reversible?" Sam said.
"Not that I know of," said Cas. "But I've never seen anything quite like this, so perhaps there is a way."
"What'll happen if you can't heal it?" Dean said.
"I don't know," Cas said, tone dark. "A demon marked by Grace. A walking paradox. How can such a creature exist?"
Her mouth twisted. "Thanks, Clarence. You really know how to sweet talk a girl."
"It was not my intention—"
She held up a hand. "Forget it, feathers. Listen, boys, it gets me all warm inside that you care. Really. Just like hot chocolate on Christmas morning, the kind with the little marshmallows and everything. But the tree topper said it: there's nothing any of us can do. So why work ourselves up about it? Life goes on, and we've got bigger things to worry about than one little demon with one little unprecedented, incurable wound."
Cas blinked. He turned to Dean. "Was that—?"
"Sarcasm, Cas."
"So does that mean—?"
"Don't bring it up again."
"Ah. Thank you."
"Yep. Don't mention it."
"Okay," Meg said. "Glad we got that cleared up. Now, about your angel box. When Clarence and I—"
Dean's phone interrupted her, and she glared at him. "Seriously?"
"Sorry. Probably not important since I give this number out to everybody. Oh wait." He flashed a brittle smile and checked the Caller ID. "It's Kevin."
Sam sat up and gestured for Dean to answer. He hit send. "Hey, Kev, what's up?"
Meg leaned down next to Cas. "Prophet boy, huh?" she said, pitching her voice low enough that Sam and Dean couldn't hear over Dean's tense conversation.
"Yes," he said with a slight nod. "He's been working on the demon tablet. Perhaps he has information on the next trial."
"You mentioned the trials to Crowley. What's up with that?"
Cas frowned and cut his eyes toward her. She was a demon, and it made him uncomfortable discussing this with her. Once they closed the Gates, she would be drawn into Hell with the rest of her brethren, and it wasn't an idea he relished. "Kevin discovered that three trials must be completed to close the Gates of Hell. The first was bathing in the blood of a Hellhound."
"Ugh."
He acknowledged the sentiment with a brief flicker of his brows. "Sam completed the first trial, so now he must complete the other two."
"Sam?"
"You sound surprised."
She shrugged. Winced a bit. "Seems like mother hen over there wouldn't let baby brother take on something like that, especially considering the whole 'recovering demon blood addict' issue. The only person our dear Deanikins completely trusts is our dear Deanikins."
"Yes," he said softly, "that's true. Dean and I have not had a chance to discuss the issue in depth. I only know what I do from…observation."
"Observation? You mean spying. You spy on them. That's damn kinky, Clarence."
He cleared his throat and looked away. "I merely check in from time to time. I recognize the human need for privacy, even if I don't fully understand it." He hesitated. "What happened earlier, with Crowley…" He lifted his head and their eyes locked; his were a blaze of blue. "Perhaps I understand a bit more, now."
She blinked, and it was her turn to look away. "It was nothing, Clarence. Taking my clothes off in front of a crowd is small potatoes compared to…" She let the thought wither and shook her head. Her mouth twisted in a bitter smile. "It was a really long year," she finally said.
"Yeah, buddy, we're on the way. Hang tight." Dean rapped his knuckles against the table to get their attention and pointed at the phone. "No, listen, we'll bring you here. We've got a place, and we've got some stuff going on that we can't really step away from. Cas and I'll be there in five. Eat a damn banana and take a shower, okay?" He hung up the phone and rolled his eyes a little. "Kid sounds like he's wound tighter than a virgin on prom night."
"Well, Dean, last time we saw him you gave him a giant bottle of uppers," Sam said, "so I can't really blame him."
"I gave him downers, too. He's supposed to be balancing."
"Great. You've got your prophet reenacting Requiem for a Dream. Real smooth, genius," Meg said with a shake of her head.
He ignored her. "Cas, I told him we'd go to Garth's boat and pick him up. You up for it?"
"Yes, Dean. I'm recovered from the explosion. Are you ready?" Cas reached for him, but Dean pulled back.
"You know, on second thought, maybe take Sammy. My head's still ringin' from that stupid thing, and I'm not sure if I can deal with any more angel shit right now."
Cas' head tilted and he studied him with concern. "As you wish," he said. "Sam?"
"Yeah." The younger Winchester clambered to his feet. "Let's go."
Cas grabbed his arm, and they blinked away.
Meg glanced over at Dean with a knowing smile. "Head still ringing. Right."
"What?" he said with big, innocent eyes.
"You didn't want to leave me alone in your Bat Cave with baby brother because you're worried that he trusts me too much. That I'd take advantage of him. I'm good, sweetheart, but I'm not sure even I could work that fast. They'll be back before the ice cream melts."
His mouth quirked. He dodged around her to grab a beer out of the fridge. Gestured toward her with the bottle and grabbed a second one when she nodded. "I think I've made my feelings about this whole thing pretty clear."
"Yeah, pretty boy," she said as she twisted off the cap. "You're not exactly a mystery."
He took a long swig and eyed her over the bottle. "Could you just tell me one thing."
"I'm an open book, sugar. What do you wanna know?"
His brow creased. The beer's label had come loose at one corner, and he fiddled with it. "I just…why Cas? Isn't it weird? He's, like…your natural enemy. Back when we met Anna, Ruby was with us, and they both flipped out. Anna wasn't even an angel then, but it was like oil and water on steroids."
She was silent for so long he thought she wasn't going to answer, but finally she stirred. "I don't know. That's lame as hell, and it sounds like a copout, but honestly. I can't explain it. It's like my whole fucking existence I've fought and fought and burned and hated and hurt, but when I'm with him, a little of that eases. It should scare the hell out of me, and maybe it does, but at the same time, it's like…wow. Quiet. So quiet.
"Then he's gone and all that…noise…comes rushing back, and I just want the quiet again. It's not something I should want, and I don't know how to make sense of it. I stopped trying a while ago." Her mouth quirked. "A century of unending torment kind of puts things into perspective."
He stared at her as he mulled it over. Finally, "If something happens to him because of you, I'll hunt you down and skin you alive."
Her smile turned to sweet poison. "Oh, pretty boy, don't you know?" She took a drag off her beer and gave a rueful shake of her head. "If something happens to him because of me, you won't have to."
There was the sound of wings somewhere behind them, and Kevin's small exhalation of surprise. "We've returned with the prophet," Cas said.
"Awesome," said Dean, his eyes still locked on Meg's.
"Brilliant," she said. "Let's get this party started."
Ok, here's something: I started writing "Half of Something Else" (heretofore referred to as "H1" b/c its acronym is HoSE, and that's fuckin ridiculous) right after 8x14 aired, so it was before we knew that the trials were making Sam sick. I really do want to work that in somewhere, but at this point it almost feels like "oh, btw..." So I dunno. We'll see. Obviously this whole situation is AU post 8x14.
Reviews! Reviews get you a beer or two in the bunker with Sam and Dean. Maybe Cas'll pop in to act confused at your pop culture references and y'all'll all have a laugh.