The instant Jesse disappeared for the second time, all Claire's efforts to remain together crumbled. The air sucked out of her lungs in a sob, leaving her lips open and trembling, hidden behind her hands when she pressed them to her face.
All she could concentrate on was phantom pain, both physical and emotional, all attached to everything she'd experienced since an angel planted visions of the future in her dreams, since she was carted across the country, strung up and flayed by wire and blades... ever since a demon caged her in her own mind and showed her exactly what Belial's plan was all about. She was shaking like a dead leaf in the wind. She wanted to collapse, or scream. She could feel Ben's arms circling around her, pulling her into his lap, cradling her as though she were a child.
"It's gonna be okay," he whispered against her hair, rocking her, his hands stroking down the lengths of her arms. "He'll be okay."
You and your angels did this to me. Words from a dream: Jesse's words throbbed through her head as an undercurrent to Ben's effort to pull her back down. Issac's soft, cold voice was in there, too, along with his young face. Freckled by her blood. Ruth's robotic gaze, triggered like a missile.
She shook harder, her eyes clenched shut as another gasp squeaked into her palm.
"—doesn't understand. He doesn't. He can't. He wasn't there."
Ben did his best to console her, but her words were cryptic and she was shaking so hard. He didn't know what to do.
"Jess would never put us in danger," he attempted, kissing her temple. "He loves us. We mean everything to him."
It was a few moments of hard breaths and sobs. Claire was grappling with herself for control; Ben's words helped, gave her enough edge to pull it back and actually think, but the images were still there.
"It's not Jesse I'm worried about," she finally managed to croak. Ben turned her gently so that she laid across his lap rather than be circled around it, He tilted her face up, then wiped the tears out from beneath her eyes with his thumbs.
"Talk to me. Whatever it is, I'm here. I'll make it better."
It took a while, but through sobs she'd been holding back for what felt like her entire life, Claire went over all the details of Amitiel's manipulation: of a country laid in waste by demons and nephilim soldiers, Jesse's rise to power, Ben's kidnapping, and the murder of a daughter. She told him about the holding cell in an Oregon hotel basement and the people penned there, used to create the very beings Jesse was obsessed with helping, and of Isaac - the teenager without a soul. How she'd gone into the lion's den on orders from Heaven. How she was supposed to have been the homing device that lead the angels to destroy it.
And now, dots were being connected again.
She'd calmed, but only marginally, and if anything her quiet tears were more unsettling than the sobs had been. He'd listened in silence as she recounted, but everything she said was horrifying. It was no wonder she had been so distraught upon waking, back at Izzy's house, and why she'd been so disconnected from Jesse . He wasn't sure he could even reach deep enough into her and pull it out.
"Claire," he murmured, brushing her hair out of her face and stroking her cheek. "It isn't the same. A whole bunch of the details have changed. We can still get around it."
"If I knew what to do, I'd be doing it," she replied, exasperatedly running her hand through her hair. His hand moved away from her face, her exasperation reflecting in his eyes for a moment. Just like before, when the two of them had argued over whether to bring the nephilim to them or let Jesse go, he didn't know what to say or do to keep them all satisfied. So this time, rather than struggle and fail, he went silent. Claire just went on.
"Ever since that goddamned dream, I've done everything I can to keep that future from happening, but it keeps ...it keeps showing up! I don't know what to do anymore." She grabbed one of his hands, giving a shaky breath as she brought it back to her face - a comfort she reached for without even thinking. "The angels are going to find them, and it's going to crush Jesse - and he's going to look for someone to blame."
Ben listened silently, his thumb trailing against the apple of her cheek subconsciously after she finished. Her last words were ominous. But there was one thing he knew he could argue: dreams. He'd had one himself, featuring the angel Claire spoke of.
"He gave you a dream, love," he said softly. "Not a prophecy. The future can change. We got Belial. And if what Jesse says is true, most of the nephilim are gone." For the first time in a lot of the conversation, Claire sought out Ben's eyes with a clarity that had been much more internal until that point. She sat up and twisted to face him, her brows knitted up in the middle.
"Ben—this wasn't a dream or prophecy," she said, purposefully holding out both wrists, and the patch of vacant lowered skin that once bore a tattoo. "This was one of them. Those four are the strongest, and I know how they were raised. I know what they're capable of..."
Ben frowned, his eyes naturally gravitating to her wrists. It was hard not to, and just looking at them made his blood boil. Angels and demons, still playing them all as though they were pawns in a game.
"Then we ask him," he said. "What his plans are. What he's trying to do."
Claire's gaze softened, but was no less desperate. She rolled her lips and inhaled deep, closing her eyes to rub the salt and burn from her lashes.
"He thinks he can integrate them, like he was... His heart is right, but he doesn't understand," she repeated the last words again, from her anguished mumbling before. "They weren't brought up like that. He doesn't see it and I have no idea how to get him to without breaking his heart."
Ben's eyes dropped, feeling a sinking sensation in his stomach.
"I didn't mean we ask Jesse," he said quietly.
Falling silent, Claire looked at him - looked into him, trying to follow the line of reasoning. It wasn't difficult to see when she got there; her eyes widened and went hard.
"No, Ben..."
He swallowed, eyes closing and mind racing. "If we do it right. We can trap him, we can get away. Hell, we can banish him the moment he's done his job. You know the sigils—"
"His plan is to destroy everything Belial created - and that includes Jesse," Claire started, going tense at the idea. "By any means necessary. He'll use anything—"
"Then we have to get him," Ben interrupted, jaw going tight. "We gotta lure him down, get him in a corner, and run him through."
The words made Claire fall quiet, her lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line across her face before all of it loosened with a long sigh. Her eyes dropped from him, but she leaned in close, sniffing against his shoulder. One arm draped behind him, lightly twisted in his shirt.
She hadn't argued. Ben could tell she didn't like it, but she hadn't argued, and that gave him a little hope.
"He's the one running the campaign," Ben continued on in a low murmur, wrapping his arms around her. "Cut off the head of a snake, and the body dies. We just gotta hope that's enough to satisfy whatever's building up in Jess."
The words he chose sent a hard shudder through Claire that she couldn't suppress or hide; she felt like Death had just breathed on her neck, and in that second, was positive she was about to get sick. She wavered against him, twisting her hand in his shirt.
"No," she finally pushed, her voice wrapped with wire. She didn't necessarily say it to him, but he tensed anyway.
"No?" he asked, afraid to pull back and look at her. She did it for him, meeting his eyes with a terrified expression, her face had gone pale.
"That was in the dream..." she murmured shakily. "That—that phrase..."
He took a breath, then slowly let it out. "I'm sorry," he said, finding her hands and holding them both, his thumb gliding over her ring. "But it's still true. If Jess goes after Heaven, they won't stop." He borrowed something from his own dream encounter with Amitiel, feeling his blood go cold. "Everything will burn."
Claire watched him for a long time, fighting the sick feeling in her stomach. Her hands were still shaky, and she didn't know if it was the stress or emotional fatigue. Finally, a long sigh sagged her shoulders, and she leaned back into him, burying her face in his neck. His arms wrapped around her again, glad at least that she was no longer crying.
"We're gonna need help."
He nodded in response. "I'll call Dean. He's the only person I know who's dealt extensively with angels. He'll know what we need to do."
Silas was the last of the three to fall asleep, Jesse rubbing his back until the tears finally eased away. Even looking at them made his chest feel heavy. Smoothing a blanket over each of them, he stood, walking across the sand towards Ruth. It didn't matter that the beach was dark; he always knew exactly where she was.
She sat in the sand with her back toward the building, arms around her knees, staring out at the water. From the moment Jesse first arrived, it was clear something was wrong. She remained almost completely closed off to him, aside from very base emotional responses through their connection. Most of what she felt was anger. The others were upset, lost, heartbroken, but Ruth was just angry. Jesse sat next to her, looking over a moment before sliding an arm around her shoulders. She tensed up, but didn't pull away. Another little flicker of anger flashed in the air between them. He frowned, his insides twisting.
"What's wrong?"
"My brothers and sisters were massacred," she said dully. "But aside from that?"
He hugged her tighter. "Ruth I'm...I'm so sorry," he said, his voice rough.
"You're not sorry," she said in the same voice. "You feel sympathy, but you didn't know them. You didn't watch them being born and growing up. You have no idea what it's like."
His breath hitched, but he nodded. "You're right. It hurts so badly for me, I can't imagine what you're going through."
Her jaw clenched and released, and he could feel a pulse of intense emotion — too diverse to pull the pieces apart — before it stopped short. It was like someone slammed a door in his face, refusing to let him in.
"You know..." she said, shaking her head before turning her eyes down at her feet. "You go on telling me that we need to learn to adapt to the world, you tell me what I need to train them, to show them, and the big huge thing you keep repeating over and over is that we need to learn not to want to keep you happy. But then," she let out a wet sound, bringing one hand up to press the heel into each eye. "You keep showing up, once a week, for these little check-ins, and it's like living each day waiting for the next fix. If you'd been here, from day one, to help train us, this wouldn't have happened."
It was like a bullet being slowly forced through his chest. He pulled his arm away, staring at her and trying to breathe. "I never... I did everything I could do. I swear. I was trying to help."
She turned her face to look at him, eyes red-rimmed and swimming. "No you didn't. You didn't want us. You didn't wanna deal with us. You've been just as selfish as you've always been, and now they're all dead, and you don't even care. You're glad. Say it. Say you're glad."
"I'm not!" he cried, voice hitching. "I could never be! What happened to them—" He broke off, twisting his hands in his hair. "Oh god."
"They loved you. That's all they knew, all they've ever known. They died for you, to keep you alive, to keep you safe. Would you have died to keep them safe?" she shot back, accusation making the words hard.
He gaped, struggling for words. "I...I would have saved them."
She shook her head, turned her eyes away from him. "And then left. Because again, we mean nothing to you. You may have never wanted us, but we were still here. A few of them didn't even fight, and do you know why? Because they thought you didn't want them to fight or use their powers."
The images flashed in his head, so clear, so real. Children, just standing there, trying so hard to to make him proud as they were cut down. "Oh god, oh god, oh god," he sobbed, back curling, his hands pulling hard.
For the briefest moment, he could feel her heart reaching for him. But she didn't. It was so unlike every encounter they'd ever had.
"And you go on about not trusting me," she said. "You didn't know what we needed. You just wanted us to fix ourselves and go out into the world, leaving you alone. You don't care."
He couldn't answer, his body convulsing with crying. It'd be easier, maybe, if she weren't a little right. He hadn't wanted them, and it was so hard, trying to help them, trying to figure out what to do. "I didn't want this, I didn't want this."
"Then kill us," she said, her voice flat. "End it. Get on with your life. We won't even struggle."
Oregon. The boy who obediently sliced open his gut, the children who slaughtered the place and then willingly accepted their end at his hands. He knew all too well how easily they would bow to him. He shook his head desperately in his arms. "Can't, never," he rasped.
She stared at him, hands in her lap, still a closed door to him.
"This isn't something that'll be okay by sunrise," she said quietly. "You realize that. We're not just puppies you can dump in a box and abandon. We can't help the way we were born to be. We're more than just your soldiers: we're your family."
The word twisted his heart in knots and he got to his knees, grabbing her hand. He could feel her heart leap, but her face remained stony. "Ruth, please. I'll do anything. Tell me what to do to help, please."
"That's not my job," she told him. "You have to be responsible. You have to figure it out for yourself. I'm your second."
His back folded over, pressing her hand to his forehead. "Everything I do is wrong. People get hurt, people die, how can I keep telling people what to do when it gets them killed?"
Her eyes closed, and she took a slow breath. Then he felt the door crack open. She had so much sorrow, even the little bit of it was crippling. But there was still so much love inside her, it quickly overshadowed all that sorrow. Her hand stroked down to his face, her thumb tracing along the apple of his cheek.
"Try harder," she said gently.
He threw his arms around her, crying quietly against her neck, just relieved to feel her again. "We'll get them. We'll kill every fucking angel there is."
There was a little flicker of fear, undercutting everything else, but her arms circled around him, one hand settling against the back of his neck while the other stroked his back.
"Not tonight," she whispered. "Tonight I just want solace."
[ Wish I knew where they were that they could feel me and I could feel them and that I knew they were okay no heaven for us no heaven or hell and it hurts so much ]
He brought a hand up, cupping the back of her head and holding her close. "Me, too. So much."
She took a shuddering breath. The next few breaths shook as she struggled not to break down.
"Please," she said in a small, fragile voice. "How do I make it stop hurting? Please... make it go away. Please, Jess."
His whole throat seemed to close. He shifted, wrapping an arm around her and rocking. "I wish I could, sweetheart. I really wish I could."
"Teach me. Tell me what to do. How do people deal with this?" she begged, starting to hyperventilate.
"Sh, sh," he soothed, smoothing her hair. "Breathe. Deep, long breaths."
It wasn't an order but she obeyed, closing her eyes. The sensation of the rocking, paired with his voice and the way he touched her, eventually calmed her. Even after the tears dried, she refused to pull away from him. Something like need and desperation flickered on the outer edges of her energy signature, but she didn't act on it. In fact, fear briefly joined the mix. He gave her a squeeze.
"It's okay, I'm here. Nothing will get you. I promise."
[ For now for now for now for now for now don't ruin it please don't love— ]
The door clicked shut again.
"I'm not scared of angels," she whispered. "Let them come, for all I care."
An intense, unexpected pride swelled in him and he kissed her forehead. "You're amazing. And strong. You don't need me at all."
Her body tensed. "Please don't..." she said in a tight voice. "Don't... don't say that. And don't... I'm trying so hard."
He didn't know what she meant, but he nodded. "Okay, okay. I won't say anything, I promise."
She let out another shuddering breath, the door to her emotions creaking open, and he was hit with that same need and desperation, amped.
"You can hold me," she said quietly. "But don't kiss me. Please."
[ I can't have what I want I can't I can't but I want want want so much so much Jess please please please— ]
He closed his eyes, trying to parse her emotions from his as they swirled around him. "I won't, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that to you. If you want me to go, I'll go."
Her arms tightened around him. "No," came her rushed answer. "Don't— don't leave. I don't want you to leave. Stay with me."
"I'm here, I'm here," he reassured quickly. "I stay if you want me to stay, go if you want me to go. It's all up to you."
"Sleep next to me?" she asked, sounding so much like her heart would break if he said no.
"Of course," he said quietly. "We should sleep. We'll have a lot to do tomorrow."
She nodded, and her reluctance was palpable as she pulled out of his embrace and pushed up to standing. Her hand reached down for him and he took it, though he pushed himself up. He didn't let go of her hand as they walked back in silence to the dark house.
Claire still needed time to recover from the breakdown, so he let her rest, taking the phone onto the balcony and sitting against the railing to watch her as he pulled Dean's number up in his phone list. He chewed his lip viciously as he brought the phone up to his ear, his free hand going up to rake through his hair. It picked up after one ring.
"Jesus, kid, you ever sleep?" Dean said, a little grogginess still in his voice. Ben cracked the smallest of smile, though he didn't feel it.
"I'll sleep when I'm dead," he muttered. "Sorry if I woke you. I wouldda called my buddy Luke, but I don't think he knows what I need to know."
"Naw, you didn't wake me. Old man body gets up at six AM, rain or shine. What you looking for?"
Ben took a breath, then let it out. "How do you kill angels?"
There was a long silence. "Well that's a cheery topic. Why do you need to know?"
"We've been having trouble for a bit now, actually," Ben said, his voice pointed at his feet. "He mucked around in Claire's head, gave her a sneak preview at the good stuff to light a fire under her about that demon we torched in Clifton. Me too, actually. Wanted to take me out for a ride." He closed his eyes. "He killed all those kids we rescued. They had ties to Jesse."
An even longer silence followed before Dean spoke, almost at a growl. "Don't you ever say yes to them. Those sonsabitches won't treat you any different than a demon."
Ben swallowed hard, eyes opening up unfocused. Amitiel had made a very convincing argument. He still worried that the angel was right, but he was much more worried about Jesse taking them on.
"So how do I kill him? What do I need to do?"
"Kid, it's nothing near easy. More like you'll be able to exorcise or trap them, or repel them. Only sure thing I know that kills them is their own blades, but good luck getting your hands on one of those."
"Ain't gonna help. Jesse's..." Ben ran a hand over his face, his voice a little shaky. "I've never seen him like this. He's so angry. If he goes after them, there's no tellin' if he'll stop. He'll tear the world in half if I don't get this bastard."
"Has he done anything?" Dean asked, low and serious.
"No," Ben answered. He bit his lip, then added. "Not yet. Not that I know of. We wouldda noticed something if he had. He promised he'd check in within twenty-four, but..." He swallowed hard. "I don't know. I'm scared."
"Where are you? I don't know where we'll get a blade, but we'll find a way. I'm gonna come help."
His heart stuttered in Ben's chest at the idea of Dean being there with them. Deep underneath the fear and paranoia, there was no denying how much he'd always dreamed of hunting at Dean's side. But was it safe?
"We'll come to you," he said. "Claire's—" his eyes lifted, looking in at his wife's sleeping form through the window. "She's not handling things well either. She's starting to think what the angel showed her is actually happening."
"You tell her angels don't know jack shit," Dean said, fire in his voice. "Me and Sammy been proving them wrong all our lives."
"Trust me, I've tried," Ben said quietly. "I think she believed it once, too, but that was before. I swear, Dean, it was like opening up an origin story comic." He shook his head and gave a weak laugh. "I'll call Jess and let him know we're heading to Sioux Falls."
"Alright. I'll try'n get the place presentable." A pause. "You're gonna make it through this, Ben. You'll keep it together."
Ben gave a nod, wishing he'd had the same amount of confidence his father had. "Seeya soon."
The drive from New Orleans to Souix Falls was going to take at least a day and a half. Having set out in early afternoon, that put Ben and Claire just on the inside of the Oklahoma border around one in the morning, when pulling over for the night finally became a priority they couldn't put off any longer. The ride was tense; it couldn't be avoided. With Jesse gone and everything playing itself through her mind without the option of a stop button, Claire thought the hours would tick by like years.
Ben did his best to keep her mind on lighter things. Several impromptu trivia challenges and corny jokes pulled her out of the tendency to stare out the window. Eventually conversation rounded corners like pick-up lines they'd both heard and used, and one extended 'That's What She Said' war. It helped, but they both knew it was a band-aid on a broken leg.
Once they were checked in, Ben settled next to her on the bed, pulling her against him until they were flush and pressing his nose into the juncture of her neck. They were emotionally drained and physically exhausted, but he still wanted to be close to her. The bed felt too large without Jesse in it. Claire wrapped her arms around his shoulders, closing her eyes and breathing him in. She could feel the strain in him as if it were a tangible tremble, but his strength as well - that was the sheltering comfort she needed.
"We should sleep," she said after a moment, but couldn't bring herself to move.
"Probably," he replied, his arms tightening around her. He honestly didn't want to separate from her, even to undress. Claire didn't seem to mind; she nestled in closer and sighed, hoping the breath would be a cleansing one. Her hand thoughtlessly went through his hair and his eyes immediately closed with a muted sound of pleasure.
"I could give you a back rub," he mumbled. Claire just shook her head with minimal effort, already starting to drift.
"M'good right here," she replied.
"Kay," he said, his voice already sounding muddied and far away.
The world slowly faded away into a warm blankness, the two of them at its center. Time became nothing, and so Claire had no idea how long it had been when she felt a hand slide on her neck. She barely stirred, slowly pulled from a dreamless sleep, with no sign of being startled. Jesse pressed a kiss to her lips before reaching over and squeezing Ben's shoulder.
Ben was a lot more of a hair-trigger when it came to being awoken, and his eyes immediately snapped open with an inhale.
"Whu—" he mumbled, turning his head in the direction of the touch, and seeing Jesse's face. In an instant, he was fully awake again.
"Jess," he whispered.
"Hi," he said with a smile that was just a shade less bright than usual. "I can't stay long."
Ben turned his head back toward Claire, kissing her forehead and giving her a little shake. "Wake up, baby, Jesse's here." She opened her eyes, still a bit glazed, but it didn't last long. On her next breath, she had her arm around Jesse's neck and shoulders. He laughed, crawling fully onto the bed, even though his shoes were still on.
"Glad you're happy to see me," he teased. Ben settled on the other side of him, hugging them both, holding on tightly.
"We were worried."
Jesse's stomach twisted, tears suddenly rushing to his eyes. He hugged Claire with one arm, the other wrapping back around Ben's waist. "It was fine. I got them settled. I said I'd only be an hour, though." Along the back of his shirt, Claire's hand tensed, just before the rest of her did. It was subtle, but unhidden.
"And then what," she asked, very quietly.
"And then I go back," he said, almost at a whisper. "They're trapped in that house without me, with only the symbols keeping them safe."
Ben pulled back, looking into Jesse's face, a flicker of concern in his eyes. "What are you saying?" he asked, anxiety coloring his voice.
Jesse closed his eyes. "I'll come by as often as I can. Probably no more than a couple hours a day, though. They need me more than you do."
"Are you serious?" Claire jumped in quickly, her look mixed confusion and a pained disbelief. "Jess, we need to take a step back and look at what's going on here."
"I have to be there for them, I have to," he said quickly. "I want to be here more, but that's the problem. To be with you, I ignored my responsibility, and they paid the price, and that's not going to happen again."
Ben listened quietly to the exchange, feeling a jump in his stomach as a scowl settled on his lips. His immediate response was to call him out, to relate how his responsibilities as a hunter were equal but Jesse had demanded they give up hunting. It was that same thought-out response that kept him from speaking. He understood responsibility. He also understood what grief could do to a person; he'd seen it in his father.
"If he brought them here with us, he wouldn't have to go back," Ben said quietly.
Claire's look of extreme worry changed to something like shock, turned right at him. Ben met her eyes evenly.
"You know I'm right," he said. "Imagine what'll happen if they're allowed to wallow in it, Claire. They're kids with bombs inside them."
"I'm well aware of that," she whispered back, feeling like her stomach was on the verge of imploding. She looked at Jesse, barely able to rein in the burn behind her eyes. Her tone was strained, but her effort to keep it on the rational side was obvious. "Listen, I know all this was thrust on you without having anything to do with it in the first place, but you cannot forget what it was all done for. He wanted you to take over them. That was his plan."
Jesse stared at her, his stomach clenching. "This is different. This isn't what he wanted. And what else am I supposed to do?" Claire shook her head, her brows knitted up in the middle.
"Whatever it is, you can't lose sight of that big picture." How far can you see past your own emotions?
"He won't," Ben said, calmly. "Because we'll be there to keep him focused. Claire," he took a breath, let it out. "You have to make a choice: We either let him do what he needs to do, away from us; or we bring them closer." He wanted to say more, but he couldn't. Not with Jesse there. He was too afraid of Jesse's reaction.
"What exactly do you think I'm going to do?" Jesse said, pushing to sit up. "I'm protecting people; what's wrong with that?"
"Nothing is wrong with protecting people," Claire pleaded, "But Jess—you killed angels. How do you not see the repercussions of this?"
Jesse jerked back, sitting flush against the headboard. "They killed my family! They fucking burned children alive, children, who weren't even trying to fight! Just to get to me! If I don't stop them, you might be next." His chest hitched with a breath. "It's that or I just go to them. I'll do that, if you—"
"Jess," Ben interrupted, hands on Jesse's knees, then on his shoulders. "I get it. I get that you're upset, and you have every right to be. We're not sayin' you were wrong, we're sayin' that angels aren't an easy target. You don't have an army anymore. Just leave it."
"They won't leave me!" Jesse rubbed his palms against his eyes, everything inside him starting to spin out of control. "They found me at ten and I had to leave my parents, they found me at thirteen and I had to leave my friends, they're trying to find me now and if I have to leave you— I'm done. I'll just hand myself over and they'll kill me 'cause I'll be in hell either way."
Claire felt like the air had completely left her lungs. The will to speak was there, but the ability (and the words) refused to cooperate, and she knew exactly why. She blinked, dropping tears in her lap, and continued to stare at him until something finally squeezed out of her mouth.
"What do you want to do."
He took a few deep breaths to calm the panic in his chest before saying, "I want to kill them all, so they'll never hurt anyone again."
Sharper this time, Claire felt like she'd just been sucker-punched, and she closed her eyes to pull in a breath. It was all she could do to keep herself on the right track, which was one of the hardest things she'd ever done.
"I meant about the Four," she rasped.
"Oh," he breathed. "I... I don't want you uncomfortable. But I have to stay with them. So either we stay separate and I see you a couple hours each day, or we stay together."
Ben looked at Claire, then at Jesse, seeing the stand-off between them. He didn't want Jesse out of his sight for a second. He loved Claire, wanted to keep her safe, but he was far too afraid of what Jesse would do without them to keep him grounded.
"Bring 'em along. You know the address," he said quietly.
Jesse's eyes flicked to him hopefully, but then back to Claire. "Only if you agree, too," he said quietly.
She had to fight every instinct screaming in her head and crawling beneath her skin, an effort that made Claire go very still, and very quiet, but eventually she met Jesse's eyes, and nodded. Jesse instantly leaned forward, taking her mouth in a grateful kiss, which she returned weakly. Ben just watched, knowing the stillness of her body as well as he knew his own. He took a breath and let it out, sliding a hand to rest in the small of her back.
"Let us get there first," Claire said, just barely over her breath. "For obvious reasons."
Jesse nodded, though his eyes studied her face. "I missed you. I'm sorry I had to go." Claire blinked more tears, but only her eyes wavered. Anything else, and she'd fall apart.
"I miss you, too."
Ben could already feel his heart starting to fracture. He'll be back. He'll be back, he'll be back, he'll be back, he told himself.
He just hoped his voice didn't shake. "Go on, then. Tell the kids. We'll see you soon."
Cupping Ben's cheek, Jesse kissed him briefly before crawling out of the bed. "I'll see you soon. And thank you."
Ben nodded, flashing a weak smile he didn't feel, his arm winding around Claire and pulling her close again. With a final nod, Jesse vanished. All the air slipped out of him and Ben leaned against Claire, closing his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know you hate this. I just... I don't know what else to do." Though Claire curled her arm around behind him, she continued to stare forward, unfocused, and quiet.
"You heard him," Ben said. "He wants to kill all the angels. All of them. And hell, let's be honest, you know he'll want to go after the demons next. He won't stop until he feels everyone's safe. We have to keep him here, with us."
"I know," Claire whispered in near silent honesty. Her chest constricted and refused to let go, and every limb felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. She pulled in a shaky breath and used the back of her hand to dry the water on her face. With the next breath, she squeezed Ben's knee, then got to her feet and disappeared into the bathroom.
Ben tracked her with his eyes, frowning, wondering for just a moment if he had been wrong to make the call. Jesse had asked them both, though. It was so much to handle, all of it. Lying back in bed, he turned slightly so he could continue to watch the door.
She didn't keep track of how long she was in there; enough to hold cold water on her face a few times and stare at herself in the mirror, trying to get the sick feeling to go away. But it wouldn't, and she knew why - it had nothing to do with morning sickness or a sensitive nose. Her bad-idea alarms were blaring so loud, it took everything she had to keep some kind of control.
When she slipped back out, she was certain there'd be no sleeping for her that night; she figured the same would be true for Ben, but he was already passed out on the bed. Another body sat next to him, his head turned away from her. The smell was familiar, though. Distinct, like sweet grass and sage. Claire froze, staring at the back of the dark head. She knew who it was without a second to reach for a memory.
But it was more than just a passing face, and she had no idea why.
"You..."
When he turned to look at her, he looked older this time. More of an aged grandfather than the wiry 20-something she'd seen in the diner and the bar in Cherokee. His lips turned up in a faint smile.
"Hello again," he said, his voice still carrying that smokey deepness to it. When he shifted, there was the sound of spurs and rattles. "He's only asleep, don't worry. I didn't send him off anywhere."
She continued to stare at him, locked solid in a weird confusion. Surprise kept her cautious, but she certainly didn't feel threatened. That was odd enough on its own.
"Okay..." she injected tentatively. "So... what are you doing here?"
"I was in the neighborhood," he said, standing, then moving over to where she stood. His eyes traveled over her form, lingering for a moment on her midsection, before lifting to her eyes again. When he smiled, it was soft and warm. "One of my siblings called me. Told me she felt you in the area, and that you were stressed. I thought it best that you speak to a more familiar face."
Claire was pulled between wanting to step back and wondering why in the world she'd think to do such a thing, which was a complicated emotion, and one she didn't particularly enjoy at the moment. The complexity cracked a brief, almost strangled half-smile on her face before it melted away in a sound of breath scraping the back of her throat.
"This, um..." She pressed her lips and swallowed, looking around the hotel room, then back to him. Coyote, something said in her memory, but it had no connections she could make. "Am I dreaming? 'Cause, yeah—it's been a rough night, you're right there, but, uh... I don't know you, or any siblings, so—"
"Not yet," he answered. "But to answer your question, no. You're not dreaming. He is," Coyote answered, tipping his head back in Ben's direction. "But I made sure it was something gentle. One of his favorites. Have a seat. I want to talk to you about the future."
Claire's eyes flicked to Ben briefly before switching back to the kind old face. Hers was still pensive, but she stepped around him, lowering herself on the edge of the bed next to Ben. She wasn't entirely convinced this wasn't a dream, but the thought was hanging on by a thread.
"Alright, go'head..." Her stomach twisted with nerves, but not as they had earlier, with Jesse and the shitstorm they'd just entered into. Her eyes refused to move from his face.
"I'm sure by now you're becoming aware of Her."
Claire was quiet for another moment, filtering thoughts that weren't necessarily pleasant or comforting. She knew what he was talking about, and that was disturbing on a number of levels. The big question was, however: "How do you know?"
"We've always known," Coyote answered, pulling up one of the hotel chairs and setting it a few feet away from her before settling into it. "It was written in the stars, on the day of our Mother's passing. The first borns knew the signs. We waited. The moment you came through my grounds, I knew."
"Uh-huh." Claire was staring at him. "You knew what?"
"That you were the Lady." Coyote's smile lengthened a little. "I'm sorry, darlin'. Talkin' in riddles to you, I'll wager. I don't know the right words for it, though. Not the Christian ones, anyway. There's a similar story, that much I do know, but it's not the Christ you're carryin'."
The words alone dropped the bottom out of her stomach, but only briefly. Claire's jaw dropped, too, pushed with a breath she had apparently been holding.
"At least there's that," she breathed, automatically placing a hand on her stomach. "But since you made the effort to, uh, come talk to me and all - go on, even if it's not Christian words, because I've been lookin' into this stuff for a long time, and I'm lost as all hell." And boy did she mean that in so many ways.
His lips turned up in one corner. "There's a balance to the world, darlin'. Sometimes things come along and muck it up, set it off, but eventually everything rights itself again. We were without our Mother for a long, long time. But there was hope. She knew, when the last phoenix died, that they were comin' for her. That the doors would open. So she found the Weavers, and she had them write it into the fabric of this world. She found your story, and added her strand to it."
"...right," Claire started slowly. Making sense of all that was actually easier than it sounded, except for one major factor. "Who's 'She'?"
"Our Mother," Coyote repeated. "The Mother of all of us."
Claire's brows arched slowly, but high. She blinked once, then pointedly looked at the old man - god - whatever he was... and poked a finger onto her still mostly-flat stomach in askance. He nodded gently.
"You carry a fragment of her within you, yes. She left it in the strand, waiting for the day you would choose. And you did. It's a new beginning."
"And what's this supposed to be the beginning of?" She had to ask, that being the first of what was going to be a long string of questions. "I've gotten a good glimpse of the supposed future, and it doesn't look particularly great for any of us."
"That was a different strand," Coyote explained, eyes moving past her to Ben's sleeping form. "One that would have become a very different cloth. The end of that one, and the ends of the Hell Prince and his abominations have changed it. It is still in the looms, but Her strand is strong. When She finally passes from this world, She will return to the Realm, to Her rightful place."
Maybe it was the mental and emotional exhaustion, but despite being relieved to hear Amitiel's version of the future wasn't set in stone, she didn't understand it any clearer. Claire closed her eyes and inhaled, feeling herself sag on the bed. "So what does this mean for me and them," she nodded to Ben, and obviously meant Jesse. "Why are you here?"
"To give you comfort," he said simply, one browned hand reaching across to rest on top of her knee. "And clarity. She feels what you feel, even now. Our Mother was angry, in her final days. Vengeful. Not all of us are monsters, Claire. We are all trying to survive, the same as you. Humans kill, angels kill, demons kill. That is the world."
Claire was still sleeping in the passenger's seat when they arrived, and he knew there was still stuff to bring in from the trunk, so he let her rest a bit longer as he killed the engine and stuck it in his pocket. A light went on in the upstairs window facing the road, then another a moment later on the second floor. The door opened, and a tall man appeared in the archway, backlit, holding a rifle. A moment later he lowered it and the door shut.
Ben took a breath, let it out, and slid out of the driver's seat, going around to pop the trunk.
"Need a hand?" came a voice at his shoulder, craggy but friendly.
"Sure you can handle it?" Ben tossed back, cracking a small smile as he started pulling bags out and stacking them on the ground. He looked over into the face of his father. "They're not exactly filled with marshmallows and teddy bears."
"Little fucker," Dean said, snagging the strap of the next bag before Ben could put it down. "I ain't totally useless, kid. C'mon, I'll show you where we got you set up."
Ben put one on each of his shoulders, looking up to see Sam already heading toward them. He looked a little tired, like he hadn't slept very well, and he gave Ben a smile as he came around.
"Which ones?"
"The two in the front. The rest can stay," Ben answered. "Thanks, Sam."
"Don't mention it."
Ben fell into step with Dean, tossing a look back at Claire. "She'll be fine, kid. We got this place tighter'n Fort Knox," Dean said. "Where's the other one?"
"He's coming," Ben said quietly, turning his eyes upward to look at the sky. His breath rose into a twisting plume before evaporating. There were so many stars it was a little unreal. "We might be moving in a little earlier than I thought."
"No problem, kid. Room ain't exactly perfect, but you can fix it up," Dean said, heading through the front door. Ben followed on his heels.
"How many rooms're in this place, anyway?" he asked. "Been a while since I had the tour, and I'm pretty sure Bobby glossed over most of 'em."
"Ain't the same place as when Bobby was here," Dean said with a sad smile. "Got burned down. But we rebuilt best we good. Got four rooms, so should be plenty of room."
"Four bedrooms?" Ben clarified, chewing his lower lip as they started up the stairs. "S'the basement still good?"
"For what?" Dean said, raising his eyebrows. "You got shit you need to store, sure. Bunch of stuff down there."
Ben continued to chew his lips silently as he tried to think. He, Claire, and Jesse could keep to one room, but it wouldn't be right to ask if his father and uncle could share a room, being it was their house and also the fact that it might've been the first time in their entire lives where they'd had their own rooms.
"We might, ah, have a few more bodies to stack. If you're okay with it, I mean. Maybe the four of them could cram in the fourth room. They're used to living pretty close. I could set up bunkbeds or something—"
"Whoa, whoa, who? Jesus, Ben, I've been tryin' to be understandin', but if you're gettin' freaky-deaky with six people, we're gettin' into cult territory."
"What? No!" Ben bleated, stopping dead in his tracks as heat rushed to his face. "God, are you kidding? It's hard enough with two! No, they're— they're the kids from Clifton. The ones that are left."
"Fuck, give me a heart attack, kid," Dean breathed, shoving his back to get him going again. "Wait, four left? You mean that's all that want to come."
"No," Ben said quietly, starting to move. They arrived in the room, Sam having already dropped off the bags he'd carried up and headed off to his room no doubt. Ben dropped down his two, then ran a hand backwards up through his hair as he closed his eyes. "I mean, that's it. That's all that's left."
Dropping his bag, Dean sat heavily in a desk chair. "Jesus. I know you said, but I didn't think... You know which fucker's responsible?"
"They were ambushed," Ben said, rolling his lips. "But there's a leader, yeah. His name's Amitiel."
Nodding, Dean said, "Well we'll get him. Fuck, all those kids. Should know better, but I didn't think angels had gone that dark side."
Ben let out a shaky sigh as he settled on the bed for a moment, dropping his head between his arms and sinking low into his knees. He wanted so badly to tell him everything, all of it; the past year and all the shit that had come out of demons and angels messing with their lives. He wanted to believe that Dean would take it calmly, give him the stability he so desperately needed but couldn't find in Claire or Jesse in their current states. Fear kept him silent. He needed his father, and being chased out was a very real possibility. Worst case scenario, Jesse and the nephilim wouldn't be allowed nearby, and that left him in the same state he was trying to avoid.
"They had ties to Jesse. They want to take him down, so they hit him where it hurt. I think the only reason they haven't gone after Claire and me is because of the hex bag I made back when I went to Missouri."
Dean's expression darkened. "Then we'll show those angels they don't fuck with Winchesters." He pushed slowly to his feet. "You got much more?"
Ben stared at him for a few moments, struck dumb by his response. Then he got up, crossed the short distance between them, and hugged the other man hard. There were really no words for how grateful he felt. There was a moment before Dean hugged him back, just as hard.
"Glad you came to me, kid," he said, his voice a bit rough. Ben ducked his head against Dean's shoulder and just focused on breathing for a moment. He smelled like old leather, whiskey, and Old Spice. It was enough to bring tears to his eyes.
"Nowhere else I'd rather be," he replied thickly. He held on for a few seconds more, then took a steadying breath. "Just gotta go get Claire. If you wanna head back to bed, I'll catch up with you in the mornin'."
Giving his back a hard pat, Dean pulled back. "You sleep tight, kid. You need anything, knock. I'm just down the hall."
Ben cracked a small smile. "Just like old times," he said, giving his shoulder one last squeeze before slipping out the door and down the hall. In no time at all be was back in front of the car, popping the door open on Claire's side. She was still sleeping. With the utmost care, Ben slid his arm beneath her legs and around her shoulders, tugging her out and then lifting her to cradle against his chest. It took him a moment to get stable on his feet, then he hip-checked the door closed and started back the way he came.
"I can walk, y'know," she said very softly into Ben's shoulder, without having stirred otherwise. "But I can keep pretending not to."
Ben smiled some, holding on a little tighter and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Just wanted you to sleep as long as possible. I swear I'm not tryin' to be one of those super overprotective pricks."
"Believe it or not, I don't mind being carried around once in a while."
That pulled a small laugh out of him. He nudged the door shut behind him, making a mental note to come down, lock up, and line it as he slowly took to the stairs. Walking up was always a bit harder than walking the ground flat, and his arms started to ache a little.
"Noted. We're here, by the way. And I think we're gonna be okay."
Claire pulled in a long, slow breath, but didn't want to let go of him quite yet. In fact, she held him tighter for one, lingering moment, speaking into the crook of his neck.
"There's something I need to tell you."
They reached the top of the stairs, and Ben nearly tripped at her precursor, but managed to keep it together. Knowing that nothing good ever came with those words, he closed the door behind them.
Jesse didn't think he'd ever had a night where he slept so little but didn't mind at all. Well, at least not when sex wasn't involved. He and the nephilim had arrived just after dinner, their nerves running wild. After awkward introductions, he took them straight to their room, where he helped them get situated on two mattresses on the floor. By the time they'd all calmed down, it was time for bed, but the very suggestion of him leaving them ratcheted up the tension again. So after a quick chat with Ben and Claire, he settled in to sleep on the floor with them.
Turned out they didn't need two mattresses, because they only slept on one. On top of him. It was the only way they could all be the ones "next" to him. Sleeping under a cross between a blanket and a human pyramid wasn't really possible, but he couldn't be upset. All that came from them was love, love, love, encircling him, sinking into him. So he was smiling when he extricated himself at 4 AM and went downstairs for a piss and a snack, the nephilim completely conked out.
When he got there, though, the kitchen light was already on. At the table sat the younger Winchester, the kitchen table covered in books and papers, an ancient-looking laptop settled off to the side. Sam looked up at the sound of footsteps, already reaching for a chipped ceramic mug which he took a sip from. Jesse paused in the doorway, wishing he hadn't been seen. Couldn't exactly sneak off now.
"Mornin'," he said, ruffling his already ruffled hair. Sam's lips quirked, tugging into one cheek as he turned his eyes back to the computer screen.
"It ain't morning 'til I've gone to bed," the older man said, his voice tinted with humor.
Jesse smiled, his shoulders easing. "Guess it's night for both of us. Is...is okay if I eat something?"
"There's stew in the plastic cottage cheese container," Sam replied. He got up, going over to the coffee carafe and refilling his mug. "Just make sure to leave some of it. Dean'll be pissed if he doesn't get any."
"He didn't get any last night?" Jesse said, digging into the fridge and tugging out the stew.
"He always wants the last of everything," Sam commented, moving back to his seat. "Just how he is."
Dishing out a bowl, Jesse said, "I'd love to say Ben is the same way, but I think that's me, actually." He paused a moment before starting the microwave and turning back to Sam. "You remember me at all?"
Sam leaned back in the seat, his long legs poking out from beneath the table as he met Jesse's eyes. For the briefest moment something haunted passed over them, but then it was right back to business-as-usual.
"I do. Pretty hard not to."
Jesse let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "I remember you, too."
Again Sam's lips quirked, but there was a sadness in his face. "That was a hard thing you did. Took a lot of courage most people twice your age wouldn't have been able to muster."
Shrugging, Jesse shook his head. "I was scared. I ran. Really, I should have gone with you. I didn't want to fight, but I guess it doesn't mater what you want. If the other guy wants to fight, it's going to happen."
Sam nodded slowly in agreement, chewing on the corner of his lip before adding, "But you managed not to go nuts with it. With your powers. You didn't bring the world down around you." The same haunted look passed over the older man's face, tinged with regret, but he forced a smile around it. "I'm proud of you, for that."
Pushing up, Jesse sat on the countertop as he looked at him, chewing his tongue. It was probably rude to ask, but he might not get another chance alone with the man. "When we were there, with the demon, you said you made the wrong choice before. You can go on and tell me to fuck off if you want, but I always wondered what that choice was."
Sam ran a hand over his face, eyes drifting off to the side as he gave a breath of a laugh that held no humor in it.
"That was..." he started, trailing off with a shake of his head. "I made a mistake. Pretty damn big one, actually. It's a long, long story. The short of it is, I let myself think I was the only one in the world who could fix things."
Jesse's grip on the edge of the counter tightened. "What do you mean?"
"I had power, once." Sam sat up, hands folding on the tabletop. "I still could, actually. If I wanted it. It's part of... what I was destined to be. Me and my brother, we had this story we were supposed to be a part of. Roles to play, y'know how it goes." He sighed. "I opened Lucifer's cage." His eyes darted off to the side for a moment and his whole posture shifted and tensed. After closing his eyes and wringing his hands, he took a breath and let it out slowly. "It could've been avoided if I'd just... listened to my brother. Maybe." He let out another humorless laugh. "Or maybe it would've played out anyway, I dunno. But it didn't have to be the way it ended up bein'. I did a lot of bad things. People died, because of me. Innocent people."
There was a long silence before Jesse said a quiet, "Me, too." Then the microwave went off, nearly making him jump off the counter. Sam's lips curved up in a faint smile and he relaxed a little, then rubbed his neck. He let out another sigh.
"That before or after you started hunting?" he asked.
Jesse pulled the bowl out of the microwave, concentrating on stirring it up. "Little of both. I did a lot of bad things before. Innocent peopled died two days ago."
Sam hummed in understanding and was quiet for a few minutes before speaking. "It's a little different, but I get it. That's the thing though, isn't it? I warned you. Win or lose, you're part of things now."
His stomach twisting, Jesse nodded. He took a couple bites, swallowing down before speaking. "When you found out you weren't the only one who could fix things, what did you do? How did you try to make it better?"
Sam tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling for a moment before looking back to Jesse again. "By making it worse. Usually the way things work, you have to hit rock bottom before things get better. Believe me, I went about as far below bottom as any person can get."
Jesse stared at him, his heart thudding in his chest. "I...I don't want to hit rock bottom. I can't."
Sam's smile turned wry. "I'm not sayin' you should follow my example, Jesse. I saw a lot of myself in you when you were a kid, but... you're not me, and I wouldn't want you to be."
"No offense, but I don't want to be you either," he said with a humorless laugh. "But those angels, they killed people who were my family. And it feels like I'm the only one who can make it right, that I'm the only one who can protect the family I've got left."
Sam swallowed visibly, his face pinched in thought as he stared into Jesse's face. It was obvious the other man was thinking on how to respond, and the weight of the silence as it dragged on between them made it clear that he was having difficulty finding the words. When he finally did speak, his voice was low and quiet.
"I'm not sayin' don't protect them," he said. "But don't try and do it by yourself. You go down that path, you'll end up alone, or dead. It'll eat away at you." His head tipped up to the ceiling, indicating the rest of the sleeping house. "Each one of 'em feels the same way."
Jesse nodded, ducking his head and stirring the stew. Work together. That's something he and Ben and Claire had been trying for all along. He shouldn't forget it now. "Alright. Thanks."
The chair skidded as Sam adjusted it. "They're not just civilians," he said quietly. It wasn't a question.
"They're something like me," Jesse said quietly. "Only from the other direction. But they might as well be my brothers and sisters."
There was another long pause. "Were all of them...?"
"Yeah. They could—they can do some of the things I can. They were supposed to be my army." His mouth twisted. That sounded so stupid, out in the open. "But I told them not to fight. So when the angels came, they didn't."
Sam let out a breath. "I'm starting to wonder if there's such a thing as an original idea anymore," he said, his tone a little bitter.
Jesse frowned, looking up at him. Sam was hunched over the table, holding his head up with his hands, his hair in his face.
"Dean said Ben told him how they'd mentioned Michael. And then you with the army? It's like they're trying to hash out that shit again. Like we were just some kind of beta test." He turned his eyes up to look into Jesse's face. "Whatever happens, don't go down that road. You remember all the shit that happened back in 2009, don't you?"
"...Not really? I don't know what you mean. I sort of was in Australia," he said, a bit sheepishly.
"Armageddon," Sam said, his voice even in spite of the look in his eyes. "Revelations. That stuff. Because of Lucifer. You were at your most powerful when he walked the earth. What you can do now is nothing in comparison to what you can do if you ever—" He stopped suddenly, eyes closing tight, his breath hitching. "Just... don't. I know you're angry, but if you try and take that route, Jesse, I'll have to stop you."
A shiver ran through Jesse, his bowl nearly slipping from his fingers. He didn't need to ask how he would be stopped. For the first time, Jesse looked at Sam Winchester and felt fear. And he realized he might have done better to keep quiet about the nephilim.
"You..." He licked his lips. "What would be that line for you? So I stay far away from it."
Sam was quiet for a long time, his expression pensive. "Don't let him out," he said at last. "And don't take on more than you can handle. Not just you, but you and the others. We can't fight whole legions of angels and demons, Jesse. It isn't just Lucifer down there anymore." Some of the color drained out of the older man's face. "It's Michael. Try and imagine it. These were the two angels meant to rend the world asunder. You think you can control that?"
"I don't even know how I'd let any of them out, much less wanting to do it," Jesse said quickly, his voice a bit high. "I just— I need to stop the angels from coming after us. They won't stop."
"You're right," Sam said quietly. "Not until you prove you won't be a threat. Given what you are, it's likely they'll never stop. That's why you gotta keep runnin'."
Jesse's expression drained. He set his bowl in the sink, still half full. "You want us to go."
"No," Sam said gently. "You can stop for a little while. We can keep 'em out, but that's really a temporary solution. All of you are frazzled. You need a minute to catch your breath."
"And then leave," Jesse said, blinking furiously. "I can't do that to Ben and Claire. I can't drag them around forever, and I can't leave them."
"Maybe you should talk to them about that before you go makin' decisions for them," Sam said sternly. "They're hunters, Jesse. They can handle moving around. Believe it or not, there aren't a whole lot of home bases for hunters." His expression seemed to tighten and his eyes dropped. "They were targets. They were burned down, along with everyone inside."
Jesse stared at him. "What are you talking about?"
"One of our colleagues used to have a roadhouse. She hosted hunters." His eyes lifted to Jesse's face, carefully masked. "Me'n my brother were pretty high on the bounty, and we stopped in a couple times. You do the math."
Stomach roiling, Jesse could only manage a quiet, "Oh." He turned his wedding band round and round his finger. He'd thought, with Ben and Claire, his life would be different. That they'd be able to settle down and be real people and raise a kid right. Instead all he'd done was tie them to the life he hated.
He slid off the counter, eyes low. "We won't stay here long, I promise."
Sam nodded solemnly, his expression unreadable for a moment before he gently said, "We're not exactly spring chickens anymore. Whatever happens to us now, don't let it weigh you down." He paused, then added, "I won't share what we talked about. I know you were just trying to sort things out. As long as you and the others are here, you're safe. You don't have anything to worry about."
And when we leave? He swallowed it down, nodding. "I won't tell anyone either."
Sam gave him a thin-lipped smile. "Good. Probably for the best." His eyes scanned Jesse's face, seemingly taking in his posture and body language. His brow pinched a little and he took a breath in thought, then reconsidered and said, "G'night."
"'Night," Jesse said before heading straight upstairs. He didn't care if he never got sleep again; he just needed to be with the nephilim, to feel that protection and love again.
It had taken a while to fall asleep with Jesse not there, but he felt better knowing he was nearby than on the other side of the globe or wherever it was he had gone with the nephilim. In truth, it wasn't just Jesse's proximity that put some ease into him: He and Dean had spent part of the day doing tune-ups on the GTO and talking. He'd watched Claire cooking and his father and uncle sitting at the table, watching her with mixed reactions, all of them positive. Dean had been particularly pleased when Claire mentioned going into town the next morning to buy apples for pie. Granted, the nephilims' arrival had been a bit awkward, but things had evened out pretty quickly.
He hadn't felt this good since he'd gone to see his mother on his birthday. It was enough to set his nerves on edge. Everything good always inevitably fell flat on him. He knew deep down that Dean was better off than his mother had been, that he would be able to handle things. The salvage yard was held together, like he said. That didn't stop the prickling sensation on the back of his neck, even after his head hit the pillow and he curled against Claire's back.
The dream had started off pretty typical, given his anxiety level. He was in the basement of the warehouse, tied up against his mother's form, trying not to hyperventilate. His head turned up as he heard the noises outside the door — noises he knew had to be Dean — and for the briefest moment he had a flicker of hope. Then the door opened, but it wasn't Dean. It was himself. The self he remembered looking like. But there were differences; his hair was slicked back, and he wore a crisp white suit. His beard was long-gone. Ben stood up swiftly, without even realizing it should have been impossible, and a half-second later he looked back to see his mother was gone. The warehouse was still there, but everyone in it had vanished. Ben scowled.
"Get out of my head."
His mirror self tilted his head. "Stop endangering the world."
"I don't have time for this," Ben snarled, tromping up the stair toward the angel. "We got rid of Belial, and Jesse would be fine if it wasn't for you!"
"The fact that you believe that shows just how ignorant you are of the situation." Amitiel's eyes narrowed. "A leaderless army is still an army."
"Then we're all soldiers," Ben growled. "Because every single one of us on this planet are goin' on without a leader. You gonna torch the whole damn planet?"
"Humans aren't the same as nephilim," Amitiel said darkly. "Those creatures were abominations and they never would have been anything else. Death was better, for them and for this world."
"They were children! He was trying to teach them to be normal!" If there was any point to it, he would have thrown the angel borrowing his face against the wall, or over the railing.
Amitiel pressed in close, nose almost touching Ben's. "He would have failed and they would have torn your world to shreds," he snarled. It was the most furious Ben had ever seen the angel, who up until that point had always stared into his face with stoicism and nonchalance. Ben felt his pulse quicken, but he didn't back down. "It did not even affect us; we were doing it to save humanity. Real children."
"Children are children. You don't kill children. You don't kill until there's a threat."
Amitiel steeled his expression but his jaw was still clenched. "Your fellow hunters don't share your opinion. And these children were more a threat than most of the things you've killed."
Ben's hands tightened into fists at his sides. He didn't care about other hunters. Everything deserved a chance. Everyone could change.
"What do you want?" he asked, visibly shaking with restrained rage. He knew that the angel wouldn't leave until whatever message he had was delivered, and all he wanted was for him to be gone. He would gladly relive his worst nightmare than to deal with the angel.
"Your bedding down with the cambion is putting you in more danger than simply the company he keeps," Amitiel said darkly. "His demon mother is in your world again, and if you are with him, you'll be in her crosshairs."
"Yeah well, it's my life," Ben said with a sneer. "And I can handle a demon. So you might as well go to another department store, because you're not walking out with my meatsuit. Stop showing up in it in my head like you pay rent here."
"I could check in with your wife." Amitiel's voice was purposefully flat. Ben shoved him hard, his expression fierce.
"You go near her, so help me, I'll kill you myself."
"That would be difficult were I inside her," Amitiel said, unfazed.
"She'll never say yes to you," Ben snarled. "Never."
"Then the next time you see me, I will have chosen another. And it will not go well for you."
Ben's arms spread wide as he glared the angel down. "In the words of my generation? Come at me, bro."
Amitiel blinked at him. Then he pulled back. "Very well then. You have signed away your soul as far as I am concerned."
Ben balked slightly. He'd figured there would be anger and frustration from the angel, but a threat to his soul? He's bluffing, he told himself. Unfortunately the thought wasn't safe from the angel's awareness in Ben's current state. He opened his mouth to say something more, but before he could form the words, Amitiel was gone. A moment later Ben woke up, taking a sharp breath in disorientation.
"Jesus, you two have got to stop scaring me like this." Claire had been hovering over him, but now nearly collapsed with relief once he'd come to.
"Sorry," he said, his voice a little rough from sleep. He pushed his palm into his eye. "Was I tossing or somethin'?" Claire settled back on the bed, still calming down.
"No, actually," she started, "I just—well, needed to wake you up." That wouldn't have made nearly as much sense as it did now, but it was still unnerving. Ben frowned a little, rolling toward her, his hand crossing over the distance between them to find hers and threading their fingers together.
"It's okay. I'm okay now." He took a breath, then slowly let it out. "Amitiel's shopping." Claire felt her stomach drop. She let out a breath, squeezing his hand.
"Wonderful." A swallow didn't help the tightness in her throat. "What else he say?"
"He might pop into your head in the next few days," Ben said quietly, immediately feeling regret for saying it. "But... I think it was just a threat. And you've got... ways around it now. You can avoid him. Don't worry."
She looked at him for a moment of silence, studying his face as if she could read the answer to the question on her mind.
She didn't find it.
"Does he know...?"
"About the baby?" Ben asked. He shook his head. "I don't know. I want to say no, because he thought he could get in. Or maybe he just doesn't care." Claire's nose wrinkled a bit with her sigh.
"I wish that was encouraging."
His hand gave hers a light squeeze. "Me, too," he murmured. "But you still have the choice. You can still say no. Don't let him in."
"Oh, don't worry," she answered, not even bothering to suppress the mental shudder. "He's burned that bridge."
"We're prime real estate," Ben warned her gently. "We're right where he wants to be. He said he was done with me, but I don't believe it."
Claire was quiet, but nodded. She understood.
"I guess we'll deal with it as it comes," she said without enthusiasm. She was just too tired to put much more emotion into the statement. Ever since Jesse brought the Four back with him, she hadn't slept for more than an hour at a time. He shifted on the bed, moving closer, then snaking his arm around her and pulling her frame against his.
"Yeah," he said quietly. He pressed a kiss to her temple, his hand resting over her middle, fingers splayed wide. "What can I do to make you more comfortable, baby?" Claire closed her eyes and breathed in deep, just letting the warmth he put out wrap around her like a blanket.
"I think just stay where you are."
"Don't think I haven't noticed you not sleepin' since Jess got here," he pointed out, kissing her temple again, his fingertips coming up before flattening again, moving the fabric. "It isn't good for you not to sleep." Claire just sighed a bit, but kept her eyes closed.
"I can't help it."
"Talk to her," Ben said gently. "Let her know that she's safe. You'll keep her safe. I will, too." His other arm came around her, settling his hand next to the first. She hugged them both in tight, feeling like she wanted nothing more than to just disappear inside the feel-good. Seemed like it could turn at any moment
"You hear that, sweetie?" he said over her shoulder, down to her belly before he kissed the side of her neck and rocked her gently. "Daddy's got you. You don't have to be scared. Let mama sleep." Despite the exhaustion, Claire couldn't help the dimpled smile that spread across her lips.
"You are the cheesiest person I've ever known," she whispered adoringly. "Thank you."
She could feel him smile against her neck, his nose trailing down the shell of her ear. "You love it." His breath tickled, but Claire revelled in the feeling.
"I do," she said with a nod and a little bit of a crooked smile. He leaned over her, tipping her head back a little so he could kiss her.
Antsy didn't quite cover what Claire'd been feeling lately, and for good reason - at least in her mind - but there was little she could do about it all besides try to adjust. She was good at that; adjusting. There'd certainly been enough opportunity for practice in the last year or so. Back then, though they had the luxury of always moving, always having something else to concentrate on. Here in small-town South Dakota, surrounded by the closest thing she'd had to actual family in more than a decade, Claire knew she'd go stir-crazy if she didn't find something to do.
Some people called it 'nesting', but it wasn't instinctual for her - not yet. The subtle swell in her lower abdomen was noticeable, but barely, enough for her to have abandoned her jeans for sweatpants or, when she had to go out, skirts. She'd also cleaned the house from top to bottom with the lack of sleep, and now stood at the kitchen counter next to a mesh bag of baking apples and small basket of blueberries, peeling away at four-forty-five in the morning. The house was quiet as a tomb, save for the occasional creak as it settled, or the wind picking up against the window panes. It was easy to forget that there were eight other bodies asleep inside until she heard the steps creaking subtly and footsteps heading in her direction until they were on top of her.
"Mornin'."
Claire's peeling paused so she could look over her shoulder, then up over her shoulder. She gave Sam a quick, but small smile before turning her attention back to the apples. "Insomnia is contagious in this house."
The younger Winchester brother chuckled, opening a drawer with all the familiarity of having lived there since the beginning and pulling out a peeler. Without even asking, he grabbed an apple and joined her efforts.
"You know how it is," he said quietly. "You spend your whole life lucky to get four hours on a good day, you kind of forget that you're capable of sleeping that much."
"Amen to that." Claire glanced across at the apple he carved into, then went back to her own. She wasn't going to turn down help, especially when it felt more social than a chore. "Don't think I've cooked this much in my life, ever."
That was enough to pull another soft chuckle from Sam. "Dean does most of the cooking. I balance it out, though. If it were up to him, we'd eat meat and potatoes every day. It's a wonder he's lived this long." The chuckle on Claire's breath was multi-layered.
"Dean doesn't strike me as the culinary type." With the back of a scarred wrist, she swiped at an errant piece of hair that fell from the pinned-back sides. "'Course the only way I learned was watchin' my grandma throw sugar and flour together and magically producing a pie."
"Yeah," Sam said with a smile. "That sounds about right." He had managed to get all of the peel off in one long motion, turning the apple rather than the peeler. When he finally got to the bottom, he ripped the peel into halves and offered her one before sticking the other piece into his mouth. "Well it was Hamburger Helper first. Or, as I apparently used to call it, Glove." His smile widened fondly at the memory. "Then it got better. But then puberty hit, and Dean kinda stopped caring about feeding us and started caring a bit more about girls."
Half an apple peel dangling out from her lips like a string, Claire nodded with a quiet exhale through her nose. "One-track mind," she said around the snack. She got that. "You seemed to grow past it, at least." Claire gave him a comical look with one brow arched, and Sam laughed.
"I was never good with girls," Sam admitted. "Not until much, much later, and even then." He put the apple in the little bowl of water, his eyes going a little sad before he quickly asked, "Did you put lemon juice in that?"
"Do you have lemon juice?" she answered his question with another in a light tone, but still watched her hands and the knife in them. Sam quickly went to the fridge, tugging out a little plastic container shaped like its contents, and gave it a few good squirts. After a quick shake in the water with his long fingers, he grabbed for another piece of fruit and took to it again.
"He learned a few recipes from Lisa too, actually. She liked it when he cooked."
Claire flicked a look up at him, then back down. She nodded, but didn't say anything right away, automatically careful around the subject of Ben's mother. Then she remembered Ben was in bed.
"I liked her. Miss her, too," she said quietly. It would always weigh heavily on her mind how much Ben would've loved Lisa to be at their wedding. "Hard not to. Actually, there's a lot of people I miss." Man, if that wasn't a loaded statement. "Kinda looking forward to staying in one place. Maybe I can see them more."
Sam didn't answer, though his eyes said all the words he clearly was thinking. Having found his rhythm with the first apple, he quickly went through the second one.
"I take it she wasn't there when you tied the knot, then?"
Claire shook her head, and dropped her apple in the water. "We were laying low. I know she would've come, but we didn't want her to risk it." Picking up another apple, she went on after a pause. "Sorry we didn't tell you two about it earlier. There was a lot going on that week."
Sam reached over and rested his hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. He smiled again, soft and full of memories, then went back to peeling his next apple.
"Ain't about us. It's about you and them. But thank you all the same, for the thought."
The gentle reminder did her good, and eased some of the tension she'd been carrying around as a constant. She popped another piece of peel in her mouth. It was bittersweet; perfect for baking, and oddly metaphorical. Or maybe that was just the lack of sleep.
"You know, I always found it kinda funny that Ben's the one of us who has the best notion of what a 'normal family' is."
Sam's smile turned wry. "That's the thing about life, though. You always want what somebody else's got. I wanted normal when I was his age. Turned out normal was pretty boring."
Claire huffed lightly. Perhaps a little more dry than she intended. "Yeah, well. There's no 'normal' in our future."
"You sound surprised," Sam teased, nudging his shoulder lightly against hers, which jarred her hand at just the right time. The knife slipped off the polished apple skin and sliced into the side of her thumb. Claire hissed a little, but waved off any immediate concern.
"S'okay; just a nick," she said popping her thumb in her lips and heading to the sink.
"Shit, I'm sorry," Sam said in a rush, sounding more like he'd shot her as he came over to her side. "Hang on, lemme— there's a kit, under the sink. Just apply pressure—"
"Really, Sam, it's nothin'," she said, trying to avoid his bulk by her legs as she flipped on the tap. "I've had a lot worse. Look, not even bleeding."
He'd already grabbed the kit and stood, rising so quickly to his full height that it was a wonder he didn't get a head rush as he took her hand to check it. Sure enough, the cut wasn't bleeding anymore. Then it sealed itself and faded right in front of his eyes. Sam stared for a few seconds, speechless. Not realizing what had his fixed attention, Claire just watched him, brows arched.
"You're not gonna pass out, are you?" He looked a little green at the gills.
"It's Jesse's kid, isn't it?" Sam asked, his voice pitched low. Claire's brows knitted down. She felt her heart skip a beat, and took back her hand to examine it.
Sure enough, no cut. She inhaled deep and let it out shakily, trying to let this one more discovery sink in. To answer Sam's question, she gave him a somber nod.
Sam's lips pressed into a thin line before he asked, "Does he know?"
"They both do." Claire wiped her hand on the apron around her waist, heading back to the counter with the apples. Sam stalled a moment before moving back as well, although he didn't pick up the peeler just yet.
"Has that happened before?"
She shook her head. "No, but it's not the weirdest thing to happen." Coyote's face flashed in her mind, perhaps as a reminder to filter her words. But it didn't feel natural - like old instincts were clashing with her new ones. That happened a lot as of late.
She could still feel Sam's eyes on her back, his frame very still before he finally moved back to her side and picked up the peeler again. For a moment he just held it awkwardly, as though he'd forgotten how it worked, then he picked up the apple he'd been working on, sliced off the peel where he'd stopped, and started again.
She understood the silence. It wasn't hard to pick the questions out of the air, but he was being passive. Either for respect or as a tactic, either way, Claire understood. She took a deep breath and continued to peel.
"Ever dreamwalked? It's trippy," she started, swallowing as a segue. "My instincts are, as Ben puts it, at 'X-men levels'. And apparently I can stare a roid-raging werewolf into submission." Was she a little flustered? You bet. "I also know things."
Sam's head turned to look at her, his eyes going a little wide. For a moment, he looked very much like Ben, with the long hair and the scruffy face. It was a little creepy. "I've... had similar issues. But that had more to do with the fact that I have demon blood." Claire, however, didn't really look surprised at this.
In fact, she didn't look at him at all.
"Well. Guess you could say I do, too. Sort of." Another apple joined the rest in the water. "I remember the demon. Said the same thing as..." Only then, she paused, barely containing Kadiel's name on her lips. She cleared her throat. "Both a demon and an angel told me there isn't a name for what this is. Neither Top nor Bottom knows what's going on - but both are in a fuckin' tizzy because of it."
"Well then," Sam said quietly. "I guess it's good that you're here."
A smile tugged at Claire's lips, but it was a sad one. She said nothing for a minute, then turned a truly apologetic look in his direction. She let it sink in, then went back to peeling.
"Just our breed of 'normal'," she mused, heavily. "Thanks for putting us up, in any case. If I told Kat what I just told you, her skull would split."
Sam's brows furrowed a little as he turned his head to look at her. "Kat?"
"Nevins," she said, then glanced his way. "You think I got this bad-ass on my own?"
Sam blinked for a moment, his brows furrowing as he turned his eyes back to his apple. Then his lips turned up in a slow smile and he let out a laugh.
"Son of a bitch," he breathed, shaking his head. "You know, for eight billion people, this really is a small world." Claire snorted.
"It is in our circles." She gave him another, more close examination. "I know Kat knows just about everyone, but she try to kick your ass at some point?"
"Oh, no," Sam said, smiling down at the apple as he tossed it into the water bowl. "But I knew her. She ever tell you how she got into things?"
Claire shrugged a little. "Vaguely. Somethin' about a ghost."
Sam chuckled, shaking his head a little again. "Knew she couldn't just leave well enough alone. She was pretty damn feisty though, I remember that much. Nearly shot Dean with the shotgun I left her."
Claire watched him with the closest thing to a goofy smile on her face before it cracked into a laugh. "I'll be damned." Small world indeed. "Yeah, 'feisty' is a good word for her, and it's only gotten better over the years. I was barely eighteen when we ended up both going after the same demon. She saw how green I was after I got my ass handed to me and took me in."
"The amount of Pay It Forward in this whole scenario is borderline creepy, just FYI," Sam said, giving up on peeling apples in exchange for eating the peels. He leaned back on the counter to watch her.
"I don't understand that reference."
Sam blinked at her, a flicker of sadness crossing his face before he smirked some. "Haley Joel Osmond movie. I'll dig it out for you later. You probably were in diapers when it came out, so I forgive you."
"Don't worry," she said, dropping the last apple in the bowl, then stretching up into the cabinet for the dry ingredients. "I don't get half the stuff Ben quotes."
"Make a list. We've got broadband out here, believe it or not, and you'll probably be bored hanging out with us old geezers after a while."
"Oh I'm sure we'll keep each other on our toes somehow." Claire pulled down the sugar and flour, then squinted up at the top shelf before wiggling a point up at it. "Case in point - grab me that cinnamon and nutmeg."
Sam smirked a little, not even having to lean up in order to get the two spices she asked for. He held them just out of her reach, still smirking. She got the joke, and scoffed, smirking right back.
"Really?" Still smirking, Claire reached up to snag his shirt and skin in a quick technique known on schoolyards as a Purple Nurple. Sam immediately cringed back and let out a very effeminate noise, an arm going protectively across his chest as he stared at her in shock. Without even a moment's hesitation, he leaned in and licked her on the forehead, and she chirped out a sound of surprise and grossness, much like a twelve year old might. It was followed by a laugh, and a handful of flour in his face, which he sputtered out. It clung to his scruff and his eyelashes, and floated away from his face when he huffed a breath out of his nose.
"What's all the racket?"
Claire was still snickering and wiping Sam-spit off her forehead with the back of her hand when Ben's voice grabbed her attention. She pointed at his uncle, but couldn't keep a straight face. "He started it."
"Wha— You— She violated my chest!" Sam argued, his face going a bit red with suppressed laughter. Ben's brows rose as he looked between the two of them, a little bemused.
"Welcome to my life."
Claire coughed out a laugh. "I don't violate your chest." And then added quickly, "And I didn't violate yours either." That said to Sam with another flick of flour off her fingers. He caught them, working her arm right into her back, though he was very gentle about it.
"You are three seconds away from being held upside down, missy."
"Ah yes, the tall person's threat. Used that one once or twice myself on my sister," Ben said with a faint smirk. "You're gonna wake up the whole house with the way you two are going on." His eyes moved past Claire's shoulder, seeing the ingredients and then looking back at her with a grin.
"I thought you said you were just gonna get filling and a crust."
"Gives me more to do," Claire replied, matching his grin with a slightly crooked one of her own, which turned toward Sam over one shoulder, teasing. "Little to the left."
Sam ruffled her hair with his other hand, then let her arm go. His face was a little pink high in his cheeks.
"Your left, you big jerk."
Ben snorted. "Don't you have lightbulbs to change, or something?"
Sam let out a bark of a laugh, giving him a playful glare. "No respect." He went to the sink, ran his hands under the water, and wiped them down the sides of his face. "Better go get a shower before everyone else burns out the hot water." He gave Claire's hair a slight tug on passing, then headed off.
Claire watched Sam go with a soft smile that turned to Ben not long after, picking up the apple bowl to drain it in the sink. "What woke you?"
"Lack of you," he said, moving right up behind her and leaning up flush. One arm winded around her while the other swept her hair away from her neck as he trailed his lips up the curve. Goosebumps chased his breath down her spine, and Claire closed her eyes. Just for a moment, she wanted to let everything else go. Just for a moment.
"Keep that up, and this pie isn't gonna get made," she hushed. His other arm slid down to join its partner, pressing against the scoop of her hip and pulling her back into him more snugly. He continued to kiss her neck, letting out a low chuckle.
"Better now than before the pie's in the oven and we set it to burn," he murmured. She chuckled low, nuzzling back against him. Her palms took to leaning most of her weight on the counter.
"So this is probably a bad time to tell you I discovered something new about myself this morning—?"
"If it's not life-threatening, it can wait," he said, the hand that had been at her hip pulling up her skirt, the fabric thin and delicately gliding against his skin as he sought out the skin beneath. The thrill of being found made every nerve hypersensitive, as was made very clear by the very pronounced weight pressing against her back. A deft smirk tugged into Claire's cheek as she swayed on her feet, adjusting her balance a bit to compensate.
"Someone's full of good ideas this mornin'," she teased low. She flicked a glance up at the clock over the microwave, then down the hallway as his hand skimmed over her underwear and then past the elastic. Claire held her breath, her back arching a little deeper.
"I get them sometimes," he said against her ear, nipping at the lobe. "Gotta seize the opportunities as they arise."
Finally closing her eyes, she was fully aware of just how much her heart had picked up. Was it the best of ideas? Probably not, but instincts or wishful thinking - whatever it was, it was telling her no one else was even remotely around. Jesse was still sleeping - she could feel it. Though she wished he was there with them (a thought that rarely left her mind in the last few days) missing him was exhausting. Claire just wanted to feel good for a little while.
"So what're you waitin' for?" she said in a gritty whisper. He chuckled in response, kissing the spot just behind her ear.
"Yes, ma'am," he rumbled out, the tips of two fingers sliding down between her legs. Claire let go of her lip just long enough to gasp desperately, his voice as he whispered low, encouraging things in her ear adding edges to every sensation taking her over. Each strangled breath held a little pinch of her voice, until shaking, her weight faltered on the counter and she came with a rasped version of his name. Letting go of the counter, her hand quickly covered her mouth, catching the pitched cries that followed. His hand left her breast, tipping her head back and pulling her hand away in order to claim her mouth in a deep, possessive kiss. He continued to thrust his fingers through it until she finally started to sag, then he pulled back, holding her up with strong, steady arms. Good thing, since her knees felt a bit like jello.
"Not done, are you?" she was able to breathe and chuckle at the same time, rolling her hips back flush against him. He kissed her again, softer the second time.
"I can wait until later. Those apples'll go brown if you don't deal with 'em soon."
Only a soft creak of floorboards and thunk of the rubber sole of his cane announced Dean's entrance into the kitchen. He stopped by the door with a grunt of surprise.
"Jesus, don't you kids—sleep." There was just the barest of breaks in the words, his eyes moving pretty quickly to the fridge. "Enjoy sleeping while you can, 'cause you get my age, you don't got a choice."
Claire tried to keep her face - still probably flushed and bright with a glow that had nothing to do with pregnancy - aimed down at the apple slices and blueberries she was now mixing in a bowl. She cleared her throat lightly without realizing it, and leaned heavily against the counter. Shaking legs weren't good to stand on. Ben didn't move either, his face growing hotter. There would be no way to hide the very obvious strain in his sweats unless he made a mad dash for the table to sit in it.
"Baby'll probably keep us up for a while anyway. Might as well adjust now," Ben said, his voice pitched toward the cabinet until he turned to look over his shoulder in the direction of his father. "Claire's making the pie from scratch. I was helping."
The lingering awkwardness left Dean's expression as he grinned. "Ah hell, that makes you my favorite, girl. Sorry, Ben," he added, opening the fridge and getting out some orange juice.
"She's everybody's favorite girl," Ben said proudly, subtly pressing his hips into hers again. Seeing the possible get away, he pressed a quick kiss to her neck. "Sam oughta be outta the shower by now. And if he isn't, I'm gonna dump a bucket of cold water over. See you in a bit."
"Kay," Claire quipped lightly, sending him a look as he went, then a side-glance toward Dean that ended in a crooked smile of greeting. It went back down to the bowl at her hands. "Good sleep?" The half-assed measured sugar, brown sugar, and flour were turned over in the fruit. After the impromptu delay.
Dean shrugged. "I make do." He came over, taking a swig of juice before setting his glass down. "Hope you ain't working this hard to impress us or anything. Last pie I had was from McDonald's, so you really don't need to go to the trouble."
She snickered lightly, lifting a brow at him while folding the nutmeg and cinnamon in with the rest. Every different aroma - the crispness of the apples, the sweet tart of blueberries, and heady sugar were edged by the spices and potent as any air freshener. "You sayin' I should stop?"
"Hell no. I'm just saying we like you plenty. You don't have to go all Marie Callender on us," he said with a smile. She returned it, though hers was still a little crooked.
"Well I like you too, Dean," she teased lightly, but continued, "But no, I'm not tryin' to win votes. I just have to have something to do - if I knew anythin' about cars besides the basics and how to get them destroyed, I'd be out in the yard instead of making you two fat."
That got a laugh. "Well you stick around a while, I can teach you. Got more'n enough cars here to experiment on."
"Ben's tried," Claire snickered, shifting on now-steadier legs to dump the filling into the home-made crust. "But I don't mind more practice. Better at other things though," she said with no real pretense, catching a bit of filling off her thumb.
"Well I'll leave my judgment until after the pie's done," Dean teased.
"Good call," she replied, in the same tone. "You want anythin' for breakfast?"
"I've been taking care of myself for a few years now," he said with a smile. "I can manage it myself." Claire just snickered.
"Didn't ask if you could take care of yourself, I asked what you wanted for breakfast." Just for good measure, she sent him a sideways glance. "Gonna go against the pregnant lady?"
"Alright, alright." He held up his hands, moving over to the kitchen table. "I know when I'm beat."
Jesse was humming when he got out of the shower, which was something new. He'd never exactly been the humming type. But he couldn't help it when everything seemed so pleasant. Sure Sam's words still rested at the back of his mind, but that's where they could stay for now. Along with thoughts of vengeance. Right now what mattered were the Nephilim, and he was putting things aright with them. And they were helping him in return. The first night he'd spent with them had been sleepless, but after that he got used to the crowding, and their content love washing over him made drifting off the easiest thing in the world.
Of course, he was only there for them because they needed him. So after a week, he'd hopped into bed that night with Ben and Claire. And not slept at all. The room was too...quiet. Empty. The second night was much the same. So the third night, he gave in, sneaking off when Ben and Claire went to bed and joining the elated Nephilim. And then the next night, and the night after. There was no harm in it, after all. Not like Ben and Claire really needed him next to them when they weren't even awake.
So he was completely relaxed as he entered their room, towel around his waist and hair still dripping. He was greeted with two of the same look, one from each of them - from her lean on the desk by the door, Claire's was clearly more formidable. Anger hid her hurt for the time being. Ben had the kind of set jaw that would slice through paper.
"Mind explainin' what's goin' on, Jess?" he asked, his voice pitched low. Most of the house was still drifting in and out of sleep.
The last remains of a smile left Jesse's face. He closed the door quietly behind him. "I'm guessing you're not talking about the towel," he said quietly. "I was just having trouble sleeping. So I went to check on the Nephilim and ended up spending the night in their room. That's all."
"Three nights in a row?" Claire injected, quick and quiet.
Jesse's eyes turned to the floor. "I didn't wanna wake you with me tossing and turning every night. I thought it was best for everyone."
Ben scowled. You mean best for them, came the bitter afterthought. "Look, Jess, I know they need you, but they don't need you in their bed. They're not..."
"It's not just them. They're calmer, sure, but I sleep better, and I don't wake you." He looked between them. "I thought it was a good compromise."
Claire was looking at her own arms, crossed over her middle loosely, though she had an unnecessarily hard grip on her biceps. She was trying to push the whole situation through the 'what has to be done' filter in her brain, but that thing was getting pretty damned clogged lately.
"Look at it from our point of view." She looked up at him, complex things in her eyes. "What would you feel if I snuck off to sleep with four other people in the middle of the night?" And not just people - there were heavier factors associating her connection to those teenagers in the other room, and both of them knew it, regardless of it not being explicitly spoken of.
Jesse's chest clenched, his arms stiff at his sides. She had a point, except they weren't just other people. He was inextricably tied to them. Which actually probably made it worse in their eyes. "You want me to stop." It wasn't a question.
"They're here and close to you," Ben said. "That's what you wanted. Unless that's changed."
"No," Jesse said, looking at him sharply. "I can't throw them out. Please. I won't sleep in their room anymore, I promise."
"No one said to throw them out." The words were more difficult to say than Claire anticipated, but she weathered through it, riding the small sense of relief that came with what Jesse had just said.
Letting out a slow breath, Jesse nodded. Then he went for the dresser, digging for his underwear and trying not to think about the coming night. Ben watched him a moment longer, watching the tension in Jesse's form, and felt a twist of irritation.
"You spend practically every waking hour with them. What's going on?"
Jesse's fists twisted his boxers in his hands. "I fucked up. Either I fix it by helping them or by taking out every last angel."
"How did you fuck up?" Claire said. "You did everything you could to avoid all that - they pulled you in."
The drawer slammed shut as Jesse turned to her. "Don't you dare say that," he said, not even thinking as he stepped towards her. "They died to protect me. They died." Claire held her ground, but eyed him dangerously.
"I was talking about the demons who made them."
"What, by making me care about the Nephilim? They didn't do that; I did that. And I'm going to pay them back for protecting me, no matter what it takes."
"Listen to yourself!" Ben said sharply, instantly on his feet. "Do you even know what you're saying? Angels aren't just walking around in meatsuits waiting for you to lay the smack down. When they don't have hosts, they aren't bound to our physical laws. Do you even have a clue in your head what they could do to this whole damn planet, or are you so blinded by what happened to three hundred strangers that you stopped thinking straight?"
Jesse's eyes were hard as they turned on him. "They aren't strangers to me."
"So what are they then?" Claire said, eyes locked on Jesse.
"Family," he snapped, staring back just as evenly. "The closest thing I have to blood."
Something broke in Claire's eyes, then quickly resewed into something far more fierce. The atmosphere in the immediate vicinity of her skin seemed to crackle, at least enough to stand the fine, invisible hair on her arms and back of the neck on end. "Really," she almost hissed, pushing off the desk to invade his space with her very presence. "So I guess the blood of your child's a distant relative? How's she stand in the rank, Jesse? Or me, or Ben?"
He didn't back down, his expression tightening. "I would do anything for you and Ben, even if it meant sacrificing those four. You know that by now."
Ben watched where he stood, feeling the static in the air between them. It was the first time they'd ever really had a fight quite this, and he wasn't even sure how to handle it. Just like everything that involved all three of them at the same time, it was too much.
"Lots of conflicting things you're sayin', Jess," Ben said, shoving his fists into the pockets of his sweat pants. "You're out to kill every angel that ever existed because they died for you, but you would sacrifice them for us."
"You don't think I wouldn't do that for you? I would throw Heaven itself into the pit of Hell," Jesse said heatedly.
"That is the difference—" Claire looked less murderous, but equally frazzled. "Between us, and all of them out there - angels, demons, the Four - all of them." She gestured sharply to between the three of them. "We are the only ones trying to keep you away from that. Away from the circumstances that made you run in the first place. We are trying to protect you, Jesse... And we know you're torn because of all that happened - anyone with a soul would be, but—"
"You're not going to be able to keep going like this," Ben interjected. "You're not strong enough. And if you get any stronger, they'll kill us all. He told me."
Jesse's expression drained. "When?"
"He's been telling me since he first poked his way around in my head. That there's gonna be another big apocalypse, that it's only time. He came again just last week. He's already shopping for a host because I denied him again." Ben's face pinched. "And your mother's back."
He didn't have to ask which one. Jesse's whole body sagged, the fight going out of him. "Hold back and keep running," he said quietly. "That's really all it amounts to, isn't it?"
Claire huffed a despairing breath, looking at the floor. Both Jesse's words and the tone wrapped around them pulled her heart into her stomach.
"It's not about running and hiding," Ben said firmly. "It's about knowing your limits. Maybe kill everything was an option when you were by yourself, but you're not by yourself anymore, Jess."
"I never... All I've ever done was run." He tugged on his boxers, pulling them on under the towel before removing it. "Whatever you think is right, we'll do it."
That was just the thing - this entire situation was grey area, and none of it ended well for anybody. Claire had been finding it hard to think straight, and found herself looking at the bedroom door for some sort of escape. The irony wasn't lost on her, but it didn't help either. She rubbed at her face with both hands, sinking down to the edge of the bed.
"I could ask Coyote..." she finally said, feeling her gut twist.
Ben looked back at her, brows lifted slightly and lips pressed thin in curiosity. He was a little apprehensive of the trickster, given what they'd experienced, but what was made more strange was why it had been Claire to suggest it.
Jesse scowled. "What's he got to do with anything?"
Claire took a deep breath and let it out slow, but it didn't seem to help anything. She went on to tell him everything she'd told Ben, about the first night Jesse was gone and the old god had come to her. She told him everything he'd said, and the whole time, she couldn't help but keep trying to reach into herself, and feel that general, if weird, sense of calm that came with the visit.
As she finished, Jesse felt as though his extremities had gone numb. There was too much of it to process. "And you want to bring him here? To ask him what we should do?" His voice was quiet, if a bit high.
Claire looked up at him, worn and obviously at the very end of her rope. "I can't think of anything else. We can't keep going like this for much longer."
"We don't have to," Ben said, settling down next to her, his arm circling around her hip. "Long as we're here, we'll be okay. Maybe not completely safe, but Sam and Dean, they can take down anything we can't. After the baby's born, then we'll figure out what to do about that." I just don't know how long the wayward ninja kids will be welcome, he mused as he pressed his lips to Claire's temple.
Jesse stared at Ben, his face going pale. He was looking right at him, saw his lips pressed against Claire. Except he could hear Ben's voice keep talking, about the Nephilim. Had something gone wrong in his brain? Was he imagining it? Maybe he just thought he knew what Ben might add.
I can't. I can't. I can't live with them. Claire's thoughts stayed just on the inside of her lips, which were folded between her teeth. She sagged into Ben like her spine didn't work, her eyes aimed at the low middle distance. They're toxic. Why can't he see it...
"Don't—" The word blurted from Jesse's mouth but he held back, quickly turning back to the dresser. His hands shook as he dug for his pants. "Just, day by day, right? That's all."
Ben's arm tightened a little more around Claire, resisting the urge to pull her into his lap. "So no more overnights with the kidlets, and no more talk about taking on monsters with no bodies to stab into. I think we've had a productive talk." He watched the tension in Jesse's shoulders. "We love you, okay? We want you here."
Jesse closed his eyes. "I know. I love you, too."
Ben looked sideways at Claire when she didn't say anything, and knew the moment he looked into her face that she had checked out. She didn't want to talk anymore. And Jesse was still upset. God, I just want all of us to be in love again. This isn't supposed to be happening, he despaired.
"Do you wanna rest a bit more, babe?" he asked her quietly. "I can go, work a bit on the car."
Claire blinked a few times, the burn behind her eyes becoming too great in that moment to fully contain. She swallowed thickly and shook her head, but kept her movements and voice deliberately gentle.
"I'm gonna take a walk into town," she said, trying to stay as neutral as possible. I need out. Just to breathe.
"Go ahead," Jesse said quickly, trying to find a way to shut his mind. He didn't need to hear it, he didn't want to. Fuck, what's wrong with me?
"D'you want me to come with?" Ben asked, conflicted as his eyes passed between the two of them. Claire shook her head faintly, giving his leg a squeeze before giving him a kiss. It was light, but genuine.
"I'll bring back somethin' from the farmer's market." She stood up from the bed, but didn't pass Jesse. Instead her hand slipped over his to angle him her way. Her look was still haggard and torn, but also desperate behind its restraints. She squeezed his hands to pull him down to her, and whispered, "I'm sorry for yelling," against his cheek.
He let out a long breath, clinging to the small nugget of peace that was her touch. "I'm sorry for making you yell," he whispered back, his lips pressing against her cheek. She turned into him for a light, but heart-heavy kiss before slipping away for the door, grabbing her coat on the way.
Jesse's eyes followed her, his insides twisting. He wanted things to be better than this, to stop making her life so much harder. But he turned back to his clothes, getting dressed. Once the door clicked shut, it was just him and Ben. The room was heavy with the silence between them.
I should go, he thought immediately, hands on his knees. She shouldn't be alone. But he's upset. God, this is my life. What am I supposed to do? They both need me right now.
"She just wants some time to breathe," Jesse said quietly. "She'll be fine."
"I know," Ben replied, his voice a little tight. "I just—" want to help, don't want to lose you "—I..." His thoughts were a jumble of words as he tried to find the one that would work, but none of them sounded right and all of them made him feel worse.
In two steps, Jesse was over there, leaning down to take his mouth in a kiss. When he pulled back he said, "I'm here. I swear I'm here, always."
Ben's hands slid up to hold Jesse's face, his expression touched with apprehension and need. The same jumble of words rushed through his head, but more of them were focused on his fear of losing him. It was clear that he wasn't reassured. "C'mere," he said in the same tight voice.
Jesse sat next to him, his hands going to Ben's leg. "Anything you want, I swear."
"I know you feel for them," Ben whispered, resting his forehead against Jesse's. "I know you wanna help them. And yeah, they're not prepared for the world, I'm with ya on that, but you're going from one extreme to the next. It's scaring us." I need you, we need you, please don't pull away.
"I'm..." Jesse's face tightened, pushing back the ache spreading through him. Forget you can hear it. It might not even be real. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to. There's just so much... I never... Have you ever watched someone die before?"
His eyes screwed closed, and while his face was only slightly stressed, Jesse could hear his mind practically screaming for his mother.
"Yeah. I still see it."
"It doesn't go away?" Jesse said, breathing deep, trying to block out what Ben was throwing at him.
It took a few moments before Ben seemed to calm down, and only because he took the moment to lean in and kiss him, firm and insistent. His hands found Jesse's, fingers curling up into his palm tightly.
"You learn to deal with it."
Jesse nodded, swallowing hard. "Seems to be a bit of a theme this year."
"When you love something—" someone "—that's the start of everything. Bein' afraid, bein' angry, wanting to protect it, wanting to fight for it, not wanting to give up on it." Half-formed words still focused on the fear of losing him, which he reflected by tightening his grip on Jesse's hands.
"I'll never give up on it," Jesse said firmly, trying to banish those thoughts. "I love you. I'm here forever. Just tell me what you want me to do."
"I honestly don't know," Ben admitted. "Not without pushing you away. And neither of us want that. That's why we said come here. That's why we're both angry." Ben kissed him again, more and more insistent with each kiss. Jesse pulled back, only to start kissing down Ben's neck. Trust me, love me, please, I'm here.
Ben's hands moved, one hand lifting to his shoulder to hold on tightly, his breath going a little uneven. It felt like his pulse had doubled. Fuck, I love you so much. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you.
"Jess," he said hoarsely. "Please..."
His mouth working lower to Ben's collarbone, Jesse slid a hand up to his chest. "I love you, I love you so much," he murmured against his skin. "I want you to know that every second, to never doubt it."
"Show me," Ben said against his temple. "Don't just tell me." Wanna hear it I do every day every time you open your mouth I wanna hear it, but I need you so much— His free hand crossed between them, pushing right past the waistband of his pants and underwear.
Jesse took a sharp breath but pulled away, dropping to his knees. He'd show him, with everything he had. Soon they were a tangle of bodies in bed, moving against each other in desperate abandon. Ben cried out Jesse's name over and over, his voice starting to escalate. Beneath the sudden onslaught of Ben's mental praise, Jesse could feel the sudden focus of four other minds turning toward him. He forced it back even as he felt his face grow warm. This was just him and Ben, no one else allowed.
"That's it, that's it," he growled, hoping to drown out the crowding in his head. "So fucking perfect. Wanna feel you, Ben; wanna feel you come."
Oh fuck yes fuck yes yes yes please just touch it fucking please please please
[ Master? ]
Ben's hands moved down his back and grabbed his hips hard, trying to make him press in harder, then suddenly moving his fingertips inward down the cleft of his ass. It was like whiplash, being torn between two places at once, but Jesse knew which one he preferred.
[ GO AWAY! ]
The four points of focus blinked off the radar and Ben cried out beneath him, the muted sensation dancing on his outer edge flaring like a flash in a pan, just as Ben pressed in a finger and hooked it up hard. Jesse's cry hitched, his hips snapping hard against Ben, again and again.
"Love you love you love you," he panted like a mantra. Ben tipped his head back against Jesse's grip as he spilled over, moaning and gasping out wantonly as the words mashed into useless nonsense. On the crest of it he opened his eyes and looked up into Jesse's, his pupils blown to the rim.
Always yours always so fucking blue I wanna drown in them love you so much.
His chest swelling near bursting — his feelings, his alone — Jesse took Ben's mouth as he came, drowning out his own cry. Ben's one free arm circled around his back, holding on tight as they rocked against each other, perfectly synced. When the last of it ebbed, Ben pulled his fingers free, dragging them across the blanket before adjusting his grip so both arms were around his hips. He hugged Jesse with an almost bruising strength, face buried in his neck.
Breathing deeply, Jesse kissed his temple. Ben's mind was a tumble of love and contentment, turning into a sweet background noise. "That better?" he whispered.
"Didn't have to show me that way, but I appreciate it," Ben mumbled against his neck, but Jesse could feel him grinning. How are you so perfect so everything I need love you so much can't live without you, came the tumbling addendum.
Jesse chuckled. "Just comes naturally to me."
Ben moved his hands down to his ass, then slid his palms all the way to his shoulders, then doubled back. Just touching him filled his mind with pleasure-colored words and phrases. Jesse groaned.
"Y'know, we should be getting up." I've got four people to chat with.
Ben tightened his arms around him. "Nope," he said simply, nipping at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Want you want you always want you.
Jesse bit his lip. Well how could he say no to that? "Alright, just checking."
His stomach twisted a little. [ Ruth? ]
It was only when he reached out that he realized the house was surprisingly quiet and empty. Not just literally, but the mental absence was tangible. He jerked back, his eyes widening. [ RUTH! Answer me c'mon where answer ]
There was still no answer. Ben's hand gave his shoulder a squeeze.
"What's wrong?" he asked in a concerned voice.
"The Nephilim are gone." Jesse couldn't help himself. He pushed off of Ben and off the bed, grabbing up his pants. All of Ben's earlier concerns swarmed back into him, but he kept his lips tightly closed, still naked on the bed as he watched Jesse dress in record time.
It's always gonna be like this now, isn't it?
Jesse froze, his throat closing up. "I just... I'll be right back, I swear," he said hoarsely.
Ben twisted his ring around over and over on his finger, eyes unfocused. Please don't go. Please. Just stay here, with me and Claire.
"Okay," he said quietly.
Clenching his fists, Jesse stared at the floor, his chest tightening. "If...if you don't want me to go, I won't."
[ Ruth Ruth please come back ]
Silence. Ben pushed up to sitting, pulling the blanket over his body.
"You'd kill yourself with guilt if something happened to them," he said, his voice still pitched low. "I heard every word you said, just now. Just... hurry back, okay?"
With every word Ben said, there were a million half-formed contradictions in his head, so much fear and desperation obvious in the word choices. Jesse felt like his head was being torn apart. He tried to cover his ears, but that only made Ben's thoughts louder.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he moaned even as he pushed himself to his feet. He couldn't bear to look at Ben. Closing his eyes, he concentrated. If Ruth wasn't coming to him, he'd have to go to her.
He found himself in a dark, cold room. The only light came from a circle of candles he found himself in the middle of. Strung up on the wall, at each of the four corners, were Silas, Pheobe, Caleb, and Ruth. They spoke with one voice, in a language Jesse didn't know, and outside of the circle stood a young woman with red hair and a black low-cut dress, her head bowed. Jesse didn't think; there wasn't time. He ran for Ruth, figuring if he freed her, she could help the others, but the moment he hit the edge of the circle it was like slamming into a brick wall and he stumbled back. Beneath the spoken chant, Jesse could hear the woman chuckle.
"Knew you couldn't stay away."
He looked down, the lines of the devil's trap all too familiar. Turning to the woman he snapped, "Who are you? Let them go!"
The woman's head lifted, her eyes reflecting the firelight, but they were the same shade of darkness as the rest of the room.
"They came to me," she simpered. "You told them to leave."
Ice poured through Jesse's body. "No... No, Ruth, I didn't mean—" The words choked off as he looked at her. "Ruth, stop! Please!"
"She can't hear you," the woman said, her lips peeled back in a sinister smile as she walked around the edge of the circle. "I burned out their eardrums, right after I set them to their work." Her voice turned sing-song. "Not long now."
Jesse sagged to his knees. "No, no you can't... What are you doing with them?"
"Well they were vessels, in a way," she told him. "We made an extra hundred of them, as back-up, in case there were early casualties. But then you had to ruin things, didn't you? Refuse your role, leave them out in the open. All that hard work, gone. All we wanted was heaven." The four bodies on the wall suddenly seized, heads tipped back and breathing in hard. The woman lifted one hand, flicked her wrist, and the air filled with the sickening snap of three neck breaking.
The horror streaming through Jesse got hotter, brighter. He clenched his fists against the floor, breathing hard through clenched teeth. And the ground began to shake. The room grew inexplicably lighter. Sigils appeared on the wall, glowing with ethereal light as the room filled with smoke. Whispers filled Jesse's mind, formless like white noise as the smoke circled around Ruth like a tornado. Ruth's eyes flew open and wide, momentarily terrified, and then the smoke was pouring into her.
