A/N: I won't ramble on too long, but here's another update. Thank you for the follows/favs and reviewing, it warms my little heart! On to the story!
PART 1 - CHAPTER II: 'Prisons and Purple Flowers'
Before now, I didn't realize how much we rely on time measuring devices to run our lives. Calendars, watches, clocks, alarms, the movement of the sun; there's a reason we've placed so much importance on time keeping. Being locked in a metal silo with nothing but a rickety bed, large locked cupboards and lockers, and the presence or absence of light from above to tell me the time, I began my slow descent into insanity.
It wasn't just the amount of time I spent there, it was also the knowledge of what was happening around me. My captors hardly ever came to check on me, and when they did, they were silent observers with cold eyes surveying my condition. Twice a day, they gave me some cold soup and some bread to sop it up, along with a bottle of water. I could only imagine what they were doing upstairs, or what they were planning to do with me, and with every passing minute my imagination grew much more creative and much more cynical. By the time the third day came, I'd already come to the conclusion that they were only keeping me alive until they were ready to chop me up and serve me for dinner. That was the day that I stopped eating the soup.
The day after I stopped eating soup was the day that something new happened; a new person came into my cell. It was like an invasion; a very intimidating, cripplingly terrifying invasion. Three larger than life men filed into the room one by one before resolutely shutting the metal door behind them.
"Name," one of them barked at me. I was sitting on the bed, my legs curled under me and my head resting on my knees. I was starving and lethargic from my lack of food and I didn't have the mental strength to face my captors head on.
"Macy," I replied, my throat scratchy from disuse.
"She's sick," at the new voice I really began paying attention. A man wearing a trench coat and suit was looking with mild, yet detached concern.
"Hitchhiking through dimensions will do that to you," one of the others said in answer. "We're kind of used to it by now."
I gave the man in the trench coat a puzzled look. He looked vaguely familiar, and I searched my memory banks for a clue as to why. I was quite certain I didn't know him, and yet I recognised his face. It took me a moment with my fuzzy brain, but after having gone over the incident with a fine tooth comb in my mind, I realized who he was.
"You- you're dead. How did you – what – I saw you die!" I exclaimed, at this point not worrying about the consequences of speaking out; if they wanted to kill me they'd have done it by now, and there were no weapons I could see at that moment.
The man gave me a blank stare and the two other men in the room looked between the two of us, almost comically.
"Cas? What does she mean?"
The man in the trench coat gave two strong strides towards me and bent to one knee to lower himself to my level. I tried scrambling further away from him, but I was as close to the wall as I could be. His hand reached up and firmly grasped my forehead; a cool sensation leaked through my mind and soothed my headache. I felt a few moments of brief relief before a strange numbness entered me and my vision turned white. I could still sense that I was me and that I was at least conscious, but my senses had been disabled. There was a strange sensation in the back of my mind, a foreign movement as though something was digging around in there. I began to panic, but couldn't move, see, hear, smell, taste or feel anything except that what was in my mind. As the panic grew exponentially, the foreign presence removed itself from my mind and my senses were returned to me.
A high-pitched ringing was all that was left behind as I tried to orient myself again; it wasn't unpleasant, in fact it had a form of soothing effect as it slowly faded from my mind.
"…the hell was that?"
"One moment, Dean."
My sight filled with blue and it was a moment before I realized that I was looking straight into the eyes of the man who'd touched me. "What did you do to me?"
"My name is Castiel, I'm an Angel of the Lord. I was accessing your memories to ascertain exactly how you came to be here with Virgil."
I don't know exactly what it was about him, but Castiel had an air of truth that rang in every word he spoke. It wasn't quite that I believed every word he said, just that I felt the need to reign in my doubt and keep an open mind. I mean, nothing that had happened in the past few days was exactly normal according to my sense of the word. I'd seen the man before me stabbed to death; his face was permanently etched into my mind as the most significant and worst thing to have occurred. And yet here he was before me. Perhaps he wasn't being literal about the whole 'angel' thing, but then again there was no denying what I'd felt in my mind.
"And?" one of the other men spoke.
"This is Sam and Dean Winchester," Castiel continued, ignoring the prompt, "they helped rescue you from Virgil once you all returned from the alternate dimension you were found in. It's still unclear as to why he has brought you back, but I've just searched through your mind and I am certain that you are of no threat to us."
I blew out a breath as Castiel stood and stepped back to give me space. "You thought – you thought I was a threat? To you?"
"You were a flight risk and angels are notorious for being dickbags so we had to be sure," Dean, I think, spoke up, shrugging his shoulders as though having kept me in a silo for four days with no contact, showers, a change of clothes or direct sunlight was no big deal. I mean, I'd had to pee in a bucket for god's sake! And all he gave me was a shrug?
"This is crazy," I shook my head, wringing my hands together to stop the shaking, "You're all crazy. Alternate dimensions? Angels? You need help."
Sam, the taller of the three, stepped forward, his hand outstretched in what looked to be a calming measure. It didn't work. "Listen, this world is different from yours. Here, magic, the supernatural, it's all real. And we're the guys who have to make sure that kind of stuff doesn't end the world. I know it's hard to believe but I think that inside you know it's true. Otherwise how would you explain this?" Sam pulled a knife from the waistband of his jeans and sliced a thin line down the middle of his palm. Blood spilled over the edges of his now split skin, staining his hand and dripping to the floor. "Cas?"
Castiel reached over, opened his palm and splayed his hands out. A soft bluish white light emanated from him, bathing Sam's palm for a moment. Seconds later, Castiel removed his hand and revealed the smooth, unmarked skin of the palm, as though the cut had never been there.
"How-" my voice came out as a whisper and I found myself moving off the bed and towards Sam, intending to get a closer look. It was a reflex action, borne out of my stupid curiosity and the craziness that containment brought on. But Dean was not having any of it.
"I don't think so," he commented, stepping forward and resting a hand on his gun.
I stepped back automatically, my fear rising up instantly to replace my curiosity. For a moment there, I'd almost forgotten how these people had treated me, I almost laughed out loud but I knew that was just my hysteria.
"Dean," Sam warned his brother. "Relax, she's just a woman. A human woman. She's had a rough time, and we put her through most of that."
Castiel stepped forward and nodded at Sam. "Your brother's right. Whatever Virgil had planned for her, she doesn't know about. By all accounts she's completely human. She was taken captive by him. In fact, it seems almost coincidental."
"Cas, how do we know that-" Dean started, taking the hint from his brother to remove his hand from his gun.
"Dean, I don't have time for this. There is a war going on." The supposed Angel's voice lowered in depth and I could feel his words reverberate through me with an intensity that scared me. Dean must have felt it too because he just stared, not saying another word, his face a mask. And then the next moment, Castiel had gone.
My face must have betrayed the shock and hysteria that was about to burst forth. Sam stepped forward and handed me the bottle of water that sat on the table. "Drink," he commanded. "You're dehydrated and probably really hungry."
I nodded my head, not trusting myself to speak just yet. People don't just disappear into thin air. But angels might, a voice whispered in my mind.
He helped me up. Castiel's touch had removed the sickness building in my chest and soothed my muscles, but they had barely been used for days and since I'd gone on my hunger strike I'd become increasingly lethargic. Dean had left the room, and I welcomed his absence. Regardless of the 'threat' I had posed, I still couldn't bring myself to be okay with his callousness towards me. Sam had been less so, and was now making up for it by helping me up the stairs and through the house to a spare room in the back with an old lounge and dresser.
"This folds out. I'll bring you something to eat – something other than soup, that is. Any preferences?" Sam opened up the lounge and turned it into a slightly larger surface, placing the pillows up one end and throwing a sheet at the foot.
"No," I murmured, holding myself together so that I wouldn't shake.
Sam nodded, motioning towards the dresser. "There are some clothes in there if you want to uh... change." He looked down at my shredded dress and sighed. "It's mostly guys stuff, too large probably. Sorry about this, I know you didn't ask for any of it."
I didn't say anything, just moved enough for him to pass me on his way out. I stood there for a few more moments, staring at the sheet on the end of the fold out bed. It was old and faded, but I could make out the shapes of the small, purple flowers that patterned the material. I stared at it until the shapes lost their meaning and the colour drained from my vision until a slamming door somewhere in the rest of the house made me jump and shook me out of my trance. I edged towards the bed and curled up to the side furthest away from the door, hugging my knees. I began to cry, muffling the sounds of my sobs against the faded purple flowers.
I wasn't sure what time I fell asleep, but by the time I woke up the sky outside the single grimy window of the room was dark. My tears had made my face crusty and my throat ached, but all in all it was the best sleep I'd had since I'd been there. I sat up and looked about the room, attempting to readjust to my surroundings. Someone had placed a tray of food on the table, an assortment of fried take out; a burger, fries, some Chinese food and a small salad on the side. My bottle of water had been refilled.
I picked through it, eating small morsels here and there but filling up mainly on water. My appetite had died down significantly in the time I'd spent surviving off old soup, and later, not eating. After a while I gave up on the food and headed towards the dresser on the other side of the room, picking out a large flannel shirt and some old sweatpants with an adjustable waistband. I shrugged off my dress, wincing as the tight material scraped over some bruises and cuts. The clothes were fifty sizes too large and smelled as musty as the room, but they were warm and offered some comfort.
I picked up my dress, running the smooth material through my fingers and examining the rips and blood stains. This was the dress that I'd been proposed to in. I should have been looking at it with fondness and excitement, but the only thing I could associate it with was the trauma of the past few days…
I threw the dress into the corner.
As I timidly crept around the corner of the hall, I heard the low voices of Sam and Dean, scraping and glasses clinking. It sounded as though they were having dinner. I wasn't eager to interrupt, or to see them again, but I needed to talk. I'd done my time crying over what had happened, it was time to get some answers.
Sam and Dean sat at the kitchen table, bent over their dishes like it was their last meal. Dean was the first to notice me as he was the one facing the door. He stared at me for a moment, not bothering to stop eating his meal, before he looked away again. It felt like a dismissal. The look over his shoulder indicated to Sam that I was there and he put down his utensils and turned to face me.
"Macy, right? How you doin'?" Sam asked, as though I were an old friend.
"Okay," I replied, my voice timid. "Thanks for the uh, food."
"No problem. You were out like a light, didn't want to wake you."
I nodded and saw a chair at the other side of the room, sitting next to the window but facing the brothers. I walked over cautiously, acutely aware of the two pairs of eyes trained to my back, before I sat gingerly on the edge. After a brief pause, the pair continued to eat their dinner and I was thankful for the time to gather my thoughts.
"What exactly happened? How did I get here? And where is here?" I asked quietly. At first I thought they hadn't heard me, but Sam soon put down his fork and cleared his throat.
"We were sent to your dimension by another angel, Balthazar, to protect… something. We were being chased by the angel Virgil, who saw you and brought you back with him. When we hitchhiked a ride back, we saw that you were unconscious and Castiel told us to bring you back with us because you were obviously important enough to Virgil." Sam ignored the daggers that Dean was glaring at him. "We're in Sioux Falls, our friend Bobby's car yard."
I processed it and compared it to my memories and the strange phenomenon I'd seen with the angel Castiel. I took a deep breath and decided that if I was going to figure out how to get home, I was going to have to accept whatever these people told me. I'd figure out whether I was sane or not when I was safe.
"Okay…" I looked anywhere but at their faces. "So how do I get home?"
"Oh you're not going anywhere," Dean finally spoke up for the first time.
"Dean-" Sam started.
"What?" My voice was low, I almost didn't believe my ears.
Dean stood up and put his plate in the sink. "You're valuable to the angels, which means you're valuable to us. Whatever use you have for them means they'll be hunting you down. Maybe we could even use you as leverage..."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean," he warned. "Look, it's dangerous out there. We're going to figure out why he wants you and after we've sorted this out, we'll figure out a way to get you home."
I was starting to doubt Dean even had a conscience. "Can't I just get a plane back to Vancouver? I just want this to be over."
Sam looked at me with sympathy, "I don't think… that's how it works. You're not from here."
I gave a short bark of hysterical laughter and wiped a hand over my face. I was not handling this well. "Fan-fucking-tastic. Thanks. I'm not from here? Really? This whole situation is fucked up. I saw a guy get murdered and the next thing I know he's here, digging through my noggin' and telling me he's an angel." I stood up and balled my fists, my fingernails cutting into my palm. "I was kidnapped, apparently saved by you two, and then held captive for four days and now I'm supposed to believe that this is a different dimension? I don't know about you two but somehow 'I'm not from here' doesn't seem to cover it."
Dean rolled his eyes and drew himself up before me. "Look, I don't have time for this whiney crap. We've been through shit that's worse than your favourite nightmares. We saved your ass and until Cas was available to check properly, we had to make sure that wasn't a mistake. I would do the same damn thing in a heartbeat because that's how we survive in this world. So suck it up, you're staying here whether you like it or not."
My eyes watered and tears traced their way down my cheeks. "I guess so," I whispered.
Sam stood up and placed his hand on his brother's shoulder, pushing him back slightly as he saw my hunched position, clearly intimidated. "She's been through a lot."
Dean glared at me and then his brother in turn, "We're not here to make friends." He stalked out the door and a moment later I heard another door slam shut somewhere else in the house.
He hadn't raised his voice. He hadn't invaded my personal space. His words had been spoken in complete sincerity and frustration; it was clear he didn't want to babysit me. The reality of my position finally sunk in and that simple fact was what made me sit heavily on the chair and cradle my head in my hands.
Sam remained quiet and eventually left the room.
I waited until I was sure that nobody would be walking in the hallway until I crept back into my room. Once there, I sat down on the bed and wondered at my next move.
I'd always been the lazy one, always procrastinating the important things until the last moment and avoiding dealing with uncomfortable situations. What I found myself in now was one giant uncomfortable situation, but there was no avoiding this one. As much as I was loathe to admit, Dean was right; whining about it would help nothing. These people seemed to know what they were talking about and I had no clue what this whole 'magical world' was about, so sticking with them seemed the smartest option, for now.
Having resolved to remain with these captors-turned-heroes at least for a while, I busied myself with sorting out the rest of the clothes in the dresser. It was clear they'd been untouched for a while, so I figured it couldn't hurt. There was no telling how long I would be there for, and until I knew I was going to spend as much time in that room and as little time out there interacting with those strange, dangerous people and angels as possible.
I'd finished sorting and folding two drawers before I heard movement outside my door. It was a quiet shuffling and I tensed, waiting for the door to open. But that never happened. Whispered words were exchanged and I debated whether or not I wanted to hear what they were saying; but apparently I hadn't learnt my lesson last time. I crept towards the door and stuck my ear near the crack.
"…I know, I know, save it."
"What are we going to do with her then?"
"I don't care. Leave her here, we have to investigate those murders. Bobby is going to meet up with us, we don't have time to babysit."
"What if something happens? She can't defend herself."
A sigh. "Then Cas can get his feathery ass down here and help her if she's so damn important. Which I doubt she is, by the way."
"Fine," a pause, "we have to get going soon, I'll grab our stuff. The longer we wait, the more people will end up dead. Go tell Macy what the go is. Try to be nice."
I scrambled back from the door as quickly as I could, heading back towards the dresser and picking up a pile of clothes. A few moments later there was a soft knock at the door.
"Come in," I called, not bothering to look up.
Dean opened the door slowly and walked two strides into the small room. "Sam and I are heading out to take care of a few things."
I nodded and continued folding some clothes. "Any idea how long you'll be?"
"No," Dean cleared his throat. "There are some books in the study… a bit of food in the fridge, should last. Don't touch anything else, most of it's dangerous. If anything happens head to the panic room and lock the door."
"You mean the prison?" I asked before I could stop myself.
Dean didn't immediately respond. There was a quiet scrabbling of paper and I finally turned my head to look at him. He placed a small note on the bedside table. "These are our phone numbers. Call if anything happens and we'll get back as soon as we can." His voice wasn't as hard as it had been the other few times he'd interacted with me, but I could sense the effort it was taking to maintain his calm façade for my sake, or more accurately his brother's sake. I wanted to say thank you maybe, or acknowledge the fact that I understood I was encroaching on their home and using their time, but the words stuck in my throat. Before I could get them unstuck, Dean had left the room.
A/N: Next chapter will be up as soon as I can get it finished. Drop me a quick review to let me know what you think, it truly warms my heart and reminds me I should update faster and more! Thanks for reading x
