Chapter 4
Hey guys! Guess what?! I finally got internet, as of yesterday, and I am also moved, though that was a pain in my ass, but whatever. It. Is. DONE! So, I do have an idea for the next chapter, not sure if I'm going to go with it or not, but I figured you guys would like a change of pace from the Winchesters and Maire. WARNING: this chapter does talk about mass shootings. If you are not alright with it, please skip that part. It is important to the story, and they will talk about it in less detail later on, but if you're comfortable with it, please do skip. Also, review. I do want to know what you guys think, whether you like it or not or if you have some interesting ideas or if there is something I need to work on. I do appreciate criticism. Otherwise, how else do I become a better writer? ONWARD AND OFFWARD!
Maire just stares at Dean, deciding whether or not she wants to answer him. Maire walks over to one of the tables and gestures for them to sit down. Castiel and Dean follow suit and sit across from her. Maire sits down after them and takes a deep breath.
"To make this easy for ye two to understand," she stops and looks between them. "I am the first original thought. AKA: The Tree of Knowledge."
"What?" Dean asks, looking more perplexed than ever before. He takes a minute to process what she just said and says again, "What?"
"Like the Tree of Knowledge, in Eden?" Cas asks, also confused. He never knew the tree was a living being. Albeit, an old one.
Maire tilts her head to the side, contemplating Castiel's question. "Kind of. Except, not only just in the knowledge of good and evil, but in everything."
Dean rubs his eyes with his thumb and pointer fingers. "So, what, you were created by God?"
"No." Maire says, making the sound of the elongated vowel sharp. "I was here way before God knew this location existed."
"What?" Dean asks, finally looking at her. Again, he's trying to process. It is taking him a while, hence the repetition, "What?"
Maire looks exasperated. Her eyes turn to Cas and he's still trying to mull over what she just said. Obviously, the angel was created after God trapped her in that God forsaken tree. "I became when the Darkness became."
"In other words," Cas looks up at her, talking rather slowly as if to get his words right. "When the Darkness appeared, so did you?"
"Aye," Maire says, as she nods her head.
"So you know how to destroy it?" Dean muses.
"Ye can't kill it."
"What?"
"Just like ye can't kill Death, ye can't kill the Darkness," she explains.
"But I did kill Death, with his scythe."
Maire shakes her head, "No, ye just really pissed him off. I wouldn't call on him for help for the rest of yer life if I was ye."
"Ah, fuck," Dean groans, lying his head down on the table.
"Anyways," Maire continues, ignoring Dean's current mental breakdown. "If the Darkness could be destroyed," her eyes shift to Cas, "Don't ye think yer Father would have?"
"That's why the Mark of Cain," Cas muses, as the puzzle pieces come clicking together.
Maire nods her head once more. "Death told ye, before ye scythed him," her eyes landing on Dean's form. "that the mark is a key. What ye released, ye must put back."
"Great," Dean mutters into the table, "Just fucking great."
Crash! Boom! Rattle, rattle.
"Umpf!" A grunt comes from the hallway.
Dean lifts his head up and instantly jumps out of his chair. He runs out of the room. A couple minutes later, a hand appears at the door frame, leading back into the room. Dean helps a disoriented Sam from the hallway.
Sam's arm is draped around Dean's shoulders and he's leaning heavily against his older brother. Maire watches in amusement as Dean tries his damnedest to keep Sam upright. But, you know, if Sam wasn't so goddamn tall, Dean wouldn't have this problem. Sam's hazy, hazel eyes land on Maire. Her greenish-yellow eyes follow him as Dean helps him sit down in the chair next to her. Sam looks up at Dean in confusion as his brother moves away and sits opposite of him.
Maire turns to Sam and places her hands on either side of his face. Sam tries to pull aya, but she holds him tight and fast. Her eyes turn to a soft, meadow green, glow. Closing his eyes, he feels a warmth spread from his head, down. A warm liquid starts filling in empty spaces, space he didn't even know needed to be filled, in his abdomen.
"Do ye feel pain anywhere?" Sam's eyes pop open at her Irish accent. '
"No," he replies, surprised at himself for feeling so trusting to this stranger. "I just feel a little nauseous."
Maire nods her head, understanding that he is telling the truth. Her eyes dull back to their original color. She pulls her hands away, but the warmth stays, seeping itself deeper into Sam. Maire turns her attention to Dean.
"He's all healed now," she says, "the nausea should pass with in a day or so." She looks back to Sam, "If it doesn't and ye feel a sharp pain, ye let me know."
Sam is about to lie and say sure, but the look in her eyes told him that she would know, regardless, if he told her or not. "Alright. But, who are you?"
Maire holds out her hand. "Maire. Better known as the Tree of Knowledge."
Sam takes and shakes her hand. "What?"
Maire rolls her eyes, "Eloquent, just like yer brother."
"Maire was just about to tell us more." Dean's gaze never left Maire. They were watching her, as if ready for her to do something.
Maire turns to Dean, her eyes flashing a steely emerald. Dean barely flinches, but Sam caught it. Apparently, so did Maire. He sees her mouth twitch up into a small smile. Amused, Sam's eyes move between the two of them, wondering what happened.
"I was explaining to this little boy and his pet angel, that the Darkness ye three morons released, can't be killed."
"Maybe God wasn't powerful enough," Dean says, watching Maire's face for some sort of reaction.
"Maybe," Maire replies, not giving him one.
"If you're more powerful than Him, that means that you kill it."
Maire's gaze never wavers from Dean's. She also doesn't step down from the challenge. "In order to do that, I need yer help."
"Our help with what?" Sam asks, giving her that concerned look he pulls off so well.
"Ye know all about powerful vessels," Maire's eyes shifts meaningfully at the three of them. "Michael's vessel. Lucifer's vessel. Castiel's vessel." Her eyes land on each of them as she says their names.
"You need us to find your vessel?" Castiel asks. "What about the body you're in now?"
"It's a temp body," Maire explains, leaning back against the chair. "It's not strong enough to keep me."
"I assume you know where your real vessel is," Dean says.
Dean expects some sort of snide remark. He expects her to use her magic to shove him to the ground, throw him against the wall. Something. But her eyes turn a mossy green color. Her face remains neutral, but her eyes look sad. She looks down at her hands and fidgets with her fingers.
"No," she says softly.
"Can't you find another vessel?" Sam asks, his brows furrow together. "One that's powerful enough to hold you?"
Maire shakes her head. "That's why I need yer help."
The three men sit in silence as they watch her, waiting for her answer.
"Someone is killing vessels that are strong enough for powerful beings."
"What?" Castiel abruptly stands up. The room stays quiet as they watch him
Dean raises an eyebrow, Maire looks up at him, and Sam holds his stomach, hoping no one notices. Sensing his movements, Maire's eyes shift to him. A knowing smile spreads across her face. She reaches a hand under the table and Sam takes it. Sighing internally, Sam relaxes as the warmth caresses the painful spot in his abdomen. Maire releases his hand after giving it a squeeze.
"The angels are worried," Cas finally says. "Hannah's asking for my help."
With a wave of her hand, Maire sends Castiel out of the bunker. She turns her eyes to the boys and there's something off about them. They're full of concern. But also, they look scared.
"There's something I need to show ye boys."
After reading the many articles Maire pulled up on Sam's laptop, Dean and Sam watch a video of one of the shootings. Somehow, Maire was able to hack into the FBI database to retrieve the footage. The two boys sit there, horrified. A handful of masked people have all the victims lined up along the shelves in the convenience store. They can't hear the sounds, thank God for that, but the two boys could see their mouths moving, most likely begging for their lives. The shooters unload their guns into them. The brothers couldn't believe the callousness and detachment. Their actions making it seem as if the others were a nuisance. They were focused on one individual. The girl looked sixteen, with her long, brown hair, freckles dusting the bridge of her nose. She was crying. She crawled along the wall, trying her best to move away from the shooters. A man, with a red mask instead of a black one, walked right up to her, his gun hanging lax by his side. He crouched down in front of the crying girl. It looks like he's saying something to her, because the girl scrambled back and the red masked man holds up his gun and shoots. Point. Blank. Salt and pepper tear up the computer screen for a couple of seconds and then, the footage returns back to normal. The shooters gone.
Silence fills the room as the video ends. They were both speechless. Utterly. Speechless. Maire waits for them to process and collect their thoughts. Sam and Dean have seen a lot of shit, but this? This takes the fucking cake. The shooters had played with the victim before she died, her corpse was a bloody mess by the time they were done with her after she was shot.
Sam closes the laptop and pushes it away, as if it were dirty. Dean rubs his face, trying to get rid of the images.
What the hell is going on? Dean wonders.
"How many," Sam's voice cracks in the middle. "How many victims?"
"Three vessels," Maire answers quietly. "But the amount of civilians? Too many."
"What about yours?" Dean asks, still rubbing his eyes.
Maire takes a shaky breath. "Thankfully, still alive."
"Can you sense her?" Sam asks.
Maire shakes her head, "She's learned a nifty little trick over the years. If she doesn't want me to find her, she'll make damn sure of it."
"Do you know who the shooter is?" Dean asks with quiet anger.
Maire nods her head. She doesn't say anything though.
"Who is it?"
When she doesn't say anything, Dean jumps up and yells, "Who the hell is it!"
Maire looks at him, her eyes level with Dean's.
Hello fellow readers! I have currently caught the writing bug and I intend to write the next chapter, so good news? You might get three chapters this week! WOOT WOOT! Anyways, please review!
