New Climates

Weiss never liked it when the General came to visit their estate. Not because she had anything against him personally – he was shrewd, principled, and brave to a fault. She'd seen as much in the fall of Beacon, however much of a mess it'd turned into. No, the reason she never liked it had nothing to do with the General himself; only the mood her father would be in once he'd left.

And this meeting was guaranteed to be worse than any before. Not only because of the fallout from Beacon, the downing of the CCT, the surging grimm populace…but because of the new threat. The storms that had been tearing at Atlas and all across Remnant, the influx of terrified, confused refugees supposedly from another world. And their 'protectors', the new force in Atlas that'd left the Council singularly uneasy.

She stood now at the door to her father's study, silent and listening intently. She'd tried to get in touch with Winter, but her sister had been curt: too much is happening too fast. Stay at home, and stay out of it. Weiss felt grateful that her sly brother had little interest in the politics of Atlas, besides what it had to offer him. He'd seemed unusually calm when last she saw him, still wholly faithful in the military might of Atlas, and the power of lien. She was less certain, and unwilling to wait until she was proven right or wrong. And so she stood silently, occasionally throwing a glance down the long corridor, straining as she listened.

"…whoever this figure is, they're…but the new arrivals have… their banner. The 'angels'…at least. Most of the ordinary people have no idea…they're not even…"

It was Ironwood, she could tell, but she couldn't hear enough. Gritting her teeth, she pressed her head closer. Ordinarily she'd scoff at the idea of eavesdropping, but some things were just that important.

"If these people are not of Atlas, then they're none of our concern! You should be routing these, 'angels' or whatever they are and re-establishing our unquestioned authority, not imposing trade-destroying embargos and locking down-"

Her father's voice grew shrill in his anger, it easily flowing to her and she felt a dull sickness in her stomach at the sound of it. Ironwood's response had a steel to it that, in spite of him not raising his voice one decibel, still carried to her,

"They're connected to the influx. If we can make common cause with them-"

"How can we do that? We don't even know what they want!"

"We're negotiating with them even now, and our ground forces are maintaining order in the streets. We cannot afford to create more fear and panic by going to war with these, whoever they are and wherever they came from."

Jacques scoffed, "'Angels' they call themselves. Meaningless buzz word, whatever the new dregs think of it. They're faunus huntsmen with wings, nothing more. Their 'abilities' are standard practice, and their arrival right when we're on the back foot should not-"

"Yes, a small army of huntsmen from no academies, all with the same abilities and same specific faunus traits. Fantastic theory Jacques, the Council would be lost without you." Ironwood sounded bored, "Look. I understand this is difficult for your company, and I don't want to jeopardise our friendship over this." He left that sentence hanging in the air for a moment, before continuing, "But our contingencies are in place. The embargo will remain, and the lockdown will go into full effect. These new arrivals are free to leave before then, but if they choose not to then they will be considered under Atlas jurisdiction. Meanwhile, we'll continue to negotiate with these 'angels'. Apparently they're soldiers, so this might go easier than we'd expected. And even if it doesn't, our intelligence indicates they're in no way related to our true enemies, and so our concern is theirs as well. We just get to strike first."

Her father made no reply to that apart from a disgruntled hmph, and she took that as her cue to enter. Knocking lightly, she darted in as quickly as she could. Closing the door behind her as rapidly and quietly as she could, she curtsied briefly as the two men within looked towards the disturbance.

"Weiss," her father said, his voice oddly distant. Perhaps he was wondering just how much she'd heard prior to entering.

"You asked for me?"

"Yes." As he confirmed it, Ironwood rose,

"We'll continue this conversation another time, Jacques." He moved towards the door,

"You will keep me aware of further developments?" the Schnee patriarch asked, his voice tired now. Weiss' eyes widened – her father prided himself on his position of power, and supposedly he'd never asked for anything since he proposed to her mother. If Ironwood was surprised, he showed no sign.

"Of course." And with that, the General was gone.

"Arrogant fool," Jacques muttered once the door was closed and a good ten seconds had passed. Odd bit of introspection, father. "Sit down girl," he waved to one of the ornately comfortable chairs in the room, not bothering to look at her. She obeyed.

"Your decision," he began, spitting out the words without preamble, "To become a huntress was not a decision I supported. It was not a decision I supported when your sister took that path either. You two are privileged to belong to the most influential family in Atlas, and it's about time you started acting like it!"

Weiss wanted to reply, but forced herself to stay silent. Her father was always right in his mind – trying to earnestly discuss something with him was always a pointless exercise, and almost always led to more pain in the future.

"But," he continued, now with a heavy sigh, "Seeing as you've insisted on this endeavour, it's about time you used it for the good of the family." She looked at her father, eyes widening,

"How exactly?"

"Your sister," he began, the venom returning to his voice, "has apparently 'gone dark'. The good General has tried his best to keep this from me, but the Schnees have many friends." False friends, "Why exactly your sister has refused to accept my calls," she always refuses your calls, and it's for the same reason I refuse your calls, "I can't say. Yet this little development I am unwilling to accept. The good General has kept the apparent disobedience of one of his most prized lieutenants quiet – well, that'll be to avoid looking even more incompetent after the Beacon debacle – yet it favours us as well. If it becomes apparent that the once-heiress to the Schnee Dust Company has deserted the Atlesian military, we'll become a laughing stock. And I will not let her drag my name through the mud!"

Sure father, 'your name'. Yet his words had sent a stab of fear through her: Winter wasn't the type to disobey, and especially not desert. While she'd rebelled against her father, there was a league's worth of difference between defying a control freak who had no affection for you whatsoever, and betraying a man you respected. A man who rose you through the ranks, showed you the ropes, who'd trained you all through your young life.

"You want me to try and get in touch with her?" Weiss asked quietly. Even if she could get back in touch with Winter, she was fairly certain her sister would still tell her nothing. If she asked on her father's behalf, she'd somehow get less than nothing.

Her father's eyes glinted as he replied, "Yes. But not over the phone, I'm certain you've tried that already. For you see, while your sister has apparently gone dark, she has not gone far. The good General's lockdown will soon be in full effect, and more of our 'friends' within the military have assured me that not expeditionary forces, deserting or no, have left Atlas. Whatever she is doing, she's still here. You will go and find her."

"Alright." She had no idea how on Remnant she was supposed to do that. She loved her sister, but didn't have the kind of deep psychological insight to track her down when she clearly didn't want to be found. Winter had carried out so many covert operations by this point she could be hiding anywhere.

"You will do this," her father continued, as if reading her thoughts, "by acting as a…replacement of sorts to the General. This will not be a permanent arrangement, do you hear me?! You will continue your education as your sister did. I did not want this," he said bitterly, "But it seems your sister has forced my hand. You will learn, you will locate your sister, you will fix this problem, and then you will return home. You will do this for the Schnee name. And Weiss," he leaned down towards her now so their faces were inches apart. She could smell the scotch on his breath, "you will not fail. Or your position in this family will be very questionable indeed."

Weiss closed her eyes briefly as he pulled back, waiting until the air was clear to breathe. Okay, Weiss. Winter may need you. She didn't believe that, in truth. If her sister was in a problem she could not deal with herself, she would certainly be useless. But she had to try. To find out the truth, if nothing else.

If Winter is gone, she must have a damn good reason.

"Really? Your souls protect you?" Even as he said it, Dean found the words incredulous. Their souls got the pleasure of being caged with a bunch of self-righteous angels, or tortured for all eternity. And these kids got magic shields? Briefly, he fantasized about punching Chuck in the face.

"Yeah," Ruby answered, as though the concept was a basic as wet water, "Otherwise, well, the grimm probably would've won already."

"Eh, you don't know that," Dean brushed off the idea, "Our world's full of monsters but it still ticks over."

"Mostly because of you by the sound of it," Nora chimed in, "Did you really kill the most evil man alive?"

"Oh yeah," Dean said, grinning widely, "the big ol' H-I-T-L-E-R. You know, the fact that you don't have him in this world is a big plus for it already. And Sammy threw Lucifer and Michael into hell, which is one more archangel than the alpha archangel himself managed."

"Dean, we also accidentally released both Lucifer and Amara, both of which nearly destroyed the world."

"Well…nobody's perfect."

Together, the group were marching towards a town marked on Ruby's map called Shion. Apparently it was a bustling centre for activity; RNJR were hoping to use the airship they had there to get to Haven, and continue their journey. The others…well, in reality the journey had been much more important to them than the destination. They'd traded tips, tricks and trivia on both of their worlds, hoping to at the very least get the know-how needed to last. There'd been some level of fascination on both sides.

"If you guys are hunters, you need a team name," Nora intoned solemnly, "you get four letters. First letter is the leader, and it should be related to a colour."

"CSCD. Pronounced 'secede'. With yours truly at the helm, of course," Crowley answered immediately, smiling his shark smile.

"One, 'secede' isn't a colour. Two, the day we put you in charge is the day with all resign ourselves back to Hell," Sam shot back.

"…cedar is a colour. And what, would you prefer to follow the socially stunted angel?"

"It's a wood, and yes. Well…prefer to you, anyway."

"That's cold, Moose."

"And all of this is irrelevant," Dean butted in, "Because we are not staying here. We are hunters, not huntsmen. We'll get whatever info we can at the next village, then we'll camp out there until our tagalong kid can remember how exactly he tore us out of our own reality." A silence fell, the casual conversation swept away. Ruby looked up from her map, nodding as though that was a perfectly ordinary, sensible course of action.

"Maybe you should be the leader," she chirped, "Team DSCC. Pronounced desk. Or disc, I guess."

"How are either of those related to a colour?" Sam asked.

"…a desk is made of wood…"

Mary and Sam walked at the back of the group along with Castiel, Jaune and Ren. Jaune and Mary had been doing their best to prepare the young nephilim, cautioning him on his wide-eyed acceptance of the world. Castiel and Ren had been having a low, awkward conversation about battle tactics,

"So your defence is reliant on your soul?" the angel asked. Ren nodded,

"It needs to be unlocked, but yeah. Once it is, it can protect you, heal – it's pretty invaluable."

"And how is it unlocked?"

"Well…anyone with an aura can 'unlock' another person's aura."

"And anyone with a soul has aura."

"Yes."

Castiel pointed towards Sam and Dean, and then back towards Mary,

"They have souls." Ren slowly nodded,

"I'm glad."

"No…can you unlock their aura? To protect them?"

"Uh, sure, I guess. We can try." Relaying the conversation, Ren, Nora and Ruby quickly moved to stand in front of Mary, Sam and Dean. Nora looked up at Sam, a giant compared to her, and she smiled broadly. Jaune turned to Castiel,

"Don't," he pointed at Castiel, Crowley and Jack, "You guys have souls?"

"No," Castiel replied bluntly, "I'm an angel of the Lord. We have celestial grace; we predate souls. Crowley is a demon, he lost his soul."

"Got a whole bunch stored up for a rainy day back home though," he cut in, his gritty voice rolling over the conversation, "Think I could make some kind of super-aura?"

"And Jack," Castiel pressed on, "Is a nephilim he…sort of has both. But I don't know what this, er, procedure will do to him. Besides, I'm sworn to protect him."

"And even if he wasn't," Crowley pointed out, "That is a half-archangel nephilim who is stronger than everyone else here put together. No offence."

"None taken." Jaune stared at Jack, as if expecting radiant light to pour from him at any second. Then he glanced back to the rest of his team. Sam and Dean were staring uncomfortably ahead as the teenage girls tried to unlock some dormant power from within their very essence. Mary seemed more relaxed as Ren calmly intoned the philosophical ideas associated with the awakening. A light started to shine from each figure – golden from Mary, an ethereal blue from Dean, and a tainted red from Sam. When it was over, all stood back, looking themselves over.

"…huh." Whipping out a knife, Dean ran it across his palm. He could feel himself resisting the curve of the blade, and as he pulled it back he smiled broadly, "Now this will be useful!"

"Thank you," Sam said, initially to Nora, then back to all of them, "All of you. We'd be a lot more screwed if we hadn't stumbled across you guys."

"Don't worry," Ruby said, smiling, "That's what we're here for. To help people."

"Hunting things. Saving people," Dean murmured under his breath, his smile smaller now, but no less resounding.

"We should press on," Jaune put in. Jack walked up to Sam, touching his arm and chest,

"You seem…different."

"Less useless to be sure," Crowley said.

"The young blond one is right," Castiel cut in, "We need to move. We still don't know exactly what else might be out there. If we're here, Lucifer could be here. And we wouldn't want to repay your help with a fight," he said to RNJR as a whole, apologetically.

"And Lucifer isn't the only problem. If anything else from our world is here…your grimm look bad enough, but this forest looks like prime Wendigo territory." Dean took a sniff of the air, as if to catch them out by scent alone, "then again," he continued, his eyes drifting to Crescent Rose, "you could probably take them, at least." Nora snorted,

"Bring your big, nasty Lucifer along, we'll take him down too!" She palmed Magnhild as she said it, grinning viciously. Sam looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Maybe," he said. Aura or no, not likely.

"Hello again tree…hello again tree…" Lucifer repeated his maddening mantra as he continued to trek through the forest. It was infuriating, being forced to walk along the dirt like some worthless ape. He reasoned that he could probably fly faster; but without knowing exactly where he wanted to go, and how much of a toll it would take, he couldn't risk it. Jack was his first priority. The deaths of the Winchesters and whatever groupies they'd brought along – that was really more of a pleasure, than a priority. If there was no Hell, there was no cage. And if there was no cage...he threw his head back, drew in a deep breath, and smiled. He hadn't felt this secure in a long time. His old man had packed up and left, typically without so much as a thank-you to the son he'd betrayed, and who had then risked his life to take down said father's annoyingly powerful sister anyway. Not even a card. His dad really hadn't changed.

There was a rustling to his right, and he sighed. Black shadow-creatures had been attacking him fairly routinely since he'd arrived, but that had been about as problematic as a fly buzzing around. One click and they were dust. Whatever would-be god had made those things, they clearly weren't designed to take on the likes of him.

But this time was different – it wasn't a monster that emerged, but a man, loosely armoured, with unusual contraptions for bracers around his wrists. The man looked young, no more than twenty-odd, though he had a few scars and was fairly well-built. Long black hair was tied back in a braid behind his head, and he eyed Lucifer with caution as he approached.

"Hey. You lost?" Pulling a face, Lucifer turned to him,

"A little. Say, you wouldn't have happened to see a, well, a child, I guess? Probably accompanied by a non-entity; a guy with long hair who looks like he could actually be something, with a different pilot; and some duster-wearing, vapid looking…thing."

"That is an oddly specific and yet vaguely absurd request. 'Fraid not. My name is Kael, I'm a huntsman. Looking to help, or just round up any stragglers in the area. You are?"

"Name's Luc…just Luc. Say, you wouldn't happen to know where any civilisation is at all, would you?"

"Yeah. You're not too far from a place called Vale. Was a bustling centre of life, now it's…a little overrun."

"Vale, huh." If I can just get a map, get a read on this planet, I might be able to fly more easily. And if I can fly again… "And this Vale is?" The huntsman pointed in the direction, "Thank you." Lucifer clicked his fingers.

To his surprise, the huntsman did not instantly explode into a mess of blood and gore. Instead, a vicious sound rang through the air, a half-explosion, half-high, ringing note, like some kind of unholy cymbal. The huntsman was hurled backwards, but he managed to right himself. Blades emerged from his bracers,

"What in the-?" the huntsman exclaimed. Frowning, Lucifer nodded,

"That's what I'm thinking too." He clicked again. Same story, same terrible sound, same mostly unharmed huntsman. Pointing his bracer at Lucifer, the huntsman fired off one blade, it rocketing towards him. With an irritated flick of his wrist, Lucifer sent the blade off course. Like a revolver, the huntsman's bracer rotated, and a new blade emerged from it. Bored, Lucifer flicked his wrist again and sent the ape flying into a tree. The huntsman didn't right himself this time, his head giving out an almighty crack as he slammed into it. The archangel didn't even bother to see if he was dead.

"Right, that was concerning. Now onto Vale."

Author's Note: The journey continues. Will Lucifer descend upon the group like, well, a descending-devil-thing? Has Winter just gone out for ice cream? Tune in next Monday to find out! Or maybe I'll post another one earlier, anything's possible. 'Till then, thank you for all faves, follows, reviews etc, check out Regent Septimus for more wonderful work, and have a wonderful night/day!

Song of the Day: Evanescence - Call Me When You're Sober