Dean had been gone for 23 hours, 54 minutes, and 38 seconds, and Castiel worried when timelines ran this close. He twiddled his thumbs, a long-standing human practice for waiting, but it offered him little comfort. Sam had wanted to pull Dean and Caroline back early – better safe than sorry, he said – but Bobby insisted on sticking to the plan.
"What if they're back there concocting some harebrained scheme, thinking they have time, and you just pop them back to now?" Bobby had said.
Castiel respected the point and had been waiting it out, choosing to take his seconds very quickly. Angels could both slow and speed time for themselves; he could extend his moments, feeling every nanosecond and acting within them, and he could also shrink them, taking them in with as little individual attention as one might pay to each drop in a gulp of whiskey. Incapable of doing this, Sam had been researching, drinking two pots of coffee, and pacing. He had not slept in well over 24 hours. Even from two rooms away, Castiel could hear the pulse of the nerves in the man's head, beating out the vibrations of a headache.
Now Sam had finally taken a seat across from Castiel, amd he looked at him intently. His elbows were propped on the table, his plaid shirtsleeves cuffed up above the bony joints even though it was chilly inside the cabin tonight. Castiel wanted to ask why.
"I've got a question, Cas," Sam said, his tone solemn.
"You know I will answer it if I can," Cas replied. He turned his body towards the table and consequently towards Sam.
Sam licked his lips and touched one palm to the other, fingers clasping and then unclasping. He released his hands and laid them out flat on the table.
"You pulled me out of Hell."
Castiel sensed a question in the statement, so he answered in the affirmative. "Yes."
"We've talked about how my soul got left behind and about Lucifer." Sam's shoulders tightened imperceptibly at Lucifer's name. "But I wanted to ask. Did you see Michael in the Cage too?"
Castiel nodded. "Yes. Michael was also trapped."
"Did you have the juice to save him too?"
"Michael is an archangel, the type of being the Cage is intended to hold. Getting him out would be as difficult as removing Lucifer. I do not have, as you say, the juice."
Sam looked over at the couch where Bobby was sitting, flipping through an old book written in German. Sam did not seem to want Bobby to be able to hear the conversation. Cas altered the vibration pitch of their voices to run on a frequency Bobby could not hear. He did not bother to tell Sam he had done so because explanations of phenomena beyond human understanding became exhausting and tedious very quickly.
"I was wondering... Is Adam still trapped in the Cage with them?" Sam blurted the words out all at once before turning his gaze away.
"No. When I threw holy oil at Michael, his vessel was damaged irreparably."
"Yeah, I know that," Sam hesitated. "Or rather, I know you think that. But what if you're wrong? Like you were wrong about bringing me back topside. You thought you had all of me and then you didn't."
Castiel heard the undercurrent of anger in Sam's voice. Dean would have been angry, raising his voice, accusing, but Sam chose gentle words that belied his feelings. Sam had so many negative feelings so much of the time that he fought very hard to suppress them. It was the difference between being the Righteous Man and being the chosen Prince of Darkness. Even cleansed of demon blood, Sam still fought against a nature he had never wanted to have.
"I am not wrong."
"So he's dead? All the way? In Heaven or Hell based on his merits?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
Castiel was surprised Sam did not ask which direction Adam had gone. He stood up, conversation over and the timeframe now ticking 23 hours, 58 minutes, and 12 seconds. He adjusted the vibrations of their voices back to normal.
"I am going to bring back Dean and Caroline now. Please stand back."
Sam obeyed, putting several large steps between himself and Castiel. Bobby also stood up from his spot on the couch. Without moving his corporeal form, Castiel reached into the time stream, sifting through the threads. The strands of chronology glowed in his perception, taking on shades of what humans saw as blue. He located the one he needed and traced its length back to the specific day in 1861. Once his energies were focused on the right moment, he pulled the continuum open and reached inside for Dean and Caroline. He focused on their names in Enochian; a name in Enochian was not a moniker but a Name, a calling unique to existence.
He was relieved to feel them both. Their roots in the time period had grown strong over the last 24 hours, and he channeled all the powers of Heaven still at his disposal to pull them out. For a moment, his strength faltered and he nearly lost hold of them in the 1980s, but he managed to continue bringing them up the strand. Only seconds had passed in the present, and yet by the time he wrenched open the modern continuum to bring them through, Castiel was exhausted.
Dean and Caroline materialized in front of them, dirty and tattered and even bloody but undeniably alive. To the naked human eye, it looked as though they had effortlessly appeared. Castiel dropped back into his chair and coughed, feeling the burn of so much force in his vessel's lungs.
"Jesus, Cas. A little warning would have been nice," Dean groused, but the corner of his mouth kicked up as he said it. Caroline turned to him and gave a little smile. Her hands were wrapped tightly around a brown mug. Castiel felt the swirling of emotions in the room: relief, curiosity, concern, and fear.
Sam crossed to Dean in two strides, arms out. Ever the big brother, Dean pulled Sam down to his level, and the taller man stooped so that his chin rested against Dean's shoulder. Every time they hugged, they reenacted this protective sincerity from their childhood without even realizing it. Castiel admired the love it conveyed. Some of the worry in the room moved and connected with him, and he saw that Dean was approaching him now. He reached down to clap his hand on Cas's shoulder, eyes warm.
"You okay, man?" Dean tightened his fingers. "I thought Raphael was going to smite your sorry ass."
"My ass has nothing to apologize for," Cas replied, tilting his head to look over at Sam. Sam offered no guidance, just a half-smile.
"Right, right. I'm just glad you're not dead." Dean patted Cas's shoulder again and then uncharacteristically ruffled his hair. Castiel felt the gesture through his scalp, surprised at the shock it caused across his nerves and then surprised that he had not known human scalps were sensitive. The mysteries of the universe were infinite.
Caroline had set the mug on the table beside him and was now talking to Bobby. "Yeah. Phoenixes are people. I mean, not really, of course... I mean, not human. But he was a person. A person who really hated vampires."
"Maybe the two species used to have a rivalry," Bobby said. For an old redneck, he had an admirable interest in the academic side of every issue.
Castiel stretched out his arm to pick up the mug on the table beside him. He looked at the ashes. Caroline reached over and took the it out of his hand.
"Hey, hey. Don't shake those around. I had to kill for those," she said, frowning at him.
"He wouldn't mess anything up," Dean said. Castiel felt his mouth curve at the corners, an involuntary smile.
"Look, I'm going to go change," Dean continued. "Then we can all figure out what our next step is. Cas, call Bonnie would you? We're going to need witchy shit."
Dean turned, gave Bobby a look that was meaningless to Castiel but caused the older man to follow Dean, and they both exited the room.
"Of course." Castiel considered traveling to Bonnie and speaking with her in person, testing the magical barrier around Mystic Falls, but the tiredness weighing on his limbs warned him against it. He reached into the pocket of his coat for his cell phone. He stuck his thumb in the crease and flipped it open, finding the buttons for Bonnie's phone number easily. She had suggested that he put it in his contacts, but he thought that was an unnecessary complication. Remembering 10 digits paled into comparison to carrying logistics for full scale Heavenly war, but he was entirely capable of doing both.
The phone rang three times and then she picked up. "Hello?"
"Hello Bonnie. This is Castiel."
"I know. I have your number saved." Her brightness was evident even in her voice. "Did it work? We've been worried not having heard from y'all."
"The plan did not go... according to plan." His fumble made Sam chuckle. "However, we have what we need now."
"Is everyone okay?"
"Yes. Everyone has survived."
She breathed in sharply. "For now."
Her grimness startled him. "I perceive something is wrong in Mystic Falls."
"Like there hasn't been something wrong for a long time?"
"Something new is upsetting you," he said, taking a new tack on the statement.
"The rain's stopped, and everything has been quiet. When something like this is happening, quiet is not good."
"That may be true."
"Just... I don't know, Cas. Get back here as soon as you can. I'll feel safer knowing the phoenix ashes are in witch hands."
"Okay." He responded. A long silence drew itself out, and then he heard a weak chuckle on the other end. "Am I supposed to say something else?"
"No." She was smiling again; he could tell. "I'll talk to you later. Be safe."
"Goodbye, Bonnie."
He hung up the phone. Sam's fingers tapped away on his laptop, back to reading everything he could find on phoenix ashes and their use in magic. The internet did not have much information on ancient topics such as that, but Castiel knew that the familiar activity comforted Sam. Castiel remembered his own days of routine. When he had first been stationed on Earth 2,000 years ago, he had often greeted the sunrise across the globe, following it on its arc. He had checked on his Father's work each step of the way, and he recognized in himself an angel who had fallen in love with creation. Blasphemously, he thought that he would have made a good God, not abandoning his children the way God himself had.
Then he remembered that an angelic army waited for him in Heaven, and yet he was here with the Winchesters. His flaws suddenly loomed large.
An acrid smell suddenly reached his nostrils, too faint for human detection, and Castiel turned in its direction before the mug on the table exploded into living flames. The ball of fire burned its way up, glowing in the air. It pulsed with life.
"Holy shit." Sam scrambled backwards away from the table. Castiel stood up himself and ignored the ache through his vessel's limbs, trying to pull the power of his grace back from its tiny reserves. Like an uncharged phone, his battery flashed him an internal "low power warning."
The flames grew to human size. Summoned by the commotion, Dean, Bobby, and Caroline tripped into the room in various states of disarray. Bobby with an unlit cigarette still in his fingers, Dean still buttoning up his flannel shirt, and Caroline with her belt halfway through the loops of her jeans. Castiel admired their spirit – all of them rushing towards danger rather than away from it.
The pulsing flames formed features, melding from top to bottom into the shape of a man. Then slowly, they began to burn out, fire being replaced by flesh in a transformation that was equal parts stunning and grotesque. In place of the now-broken ceramic mug, a man stood on the table, wearing a leather duster and a cowboy hat to rival Dean's. Castiel felt a surprising reverence. It had been centuries since he had seen a phoenix.
"You've screwed up now." The humanoid creature spoke in a graveled tone, looking straight at Caroline. He advanced; his skin still burned like coals low in a fire.
Dean shot a protective hand out to pull Caroline behind him. It was a ridiculous notion – a human protecting a vampire from a phoenix – but the hardness in his eyes sold its viability. Castiel thought the theatrics were a bit melodramatic. A phoenix could not threaten them in the presence of an angel, for even a depleted celestial being was made of stardust and god-touched particles. He stepped in now.
Castiel lifted his hand and put it on the phoenixes shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. The creature pushed forward against him impotently.
"I understand you are confused and angry. You must calm down."
"Like hell I will," the phoenix growled. He ducked to go under Castiel's reach, drawing a knife out of his waistband. He slashed out violently. The knife opened a slash in Castiel's trenchcoat and his arm. He frowned and regained his grip on the creature. The phoenix looked at the wounded arm holding him tight in disbelief.
"What the hell are you?"
Behind him, Castiel could hear Dean asking Caroline quietly, "How did you kill it last time?" and could hear her heated whisper, "Does it matter? If he won't stay dead, my method obviously isn't right!" Sam was extending his arms holding a gun, useless in this moment, and Bobby had the common sense to realize that he could do nothing.
Castiel knew Dean wished for him to keep his identity secret. Some moments, however, call for a change of plans. He called up the repository of information lurking inside the creature. His name was Elias Finch; in 1861, he had been just over 500 years old, and he had seen a human girl in peril. The capacity for love showed promise.
"I am an Angel of the Lord, Elias Finch, and we need your help."
He had seen the facial expression now on Elias's face before: when he had revealed himself to Dean Winchester in a barn years ago.
Castiel would never stop being amazed by the lack of faith the toughest of men bore.
X
"They've got the ashes, 'lena," Bonnie whispered as she slipped into the seat behind Elena. In another lifetime, the girls might have been in Calculus this senior year, but amidst the terror and change of the last several years, their academics had fallen away to nothing. They filled seats in a study hall instead, having already taken the required four years of mathematics from 8th to 11th grades. To be fair, if you could fail study hall, they would have been failing that as well. Neither of them had bothered to show up to school in over a week.
Elena breathed in a sigh of relief, nodded her thanks to Bonnie for the news, and returned to her packet of Government make-up work. Mrs. Kurtz did not brighten her interior classroom with even the soft lighting of a lamp; instead, the elderly woman seemed content to bake herself and all of her students in the flourescent, instiutional glow from the overhead lights. Elena wondered if prison felt like this. Concentrating on checks and balances seemed so silly, but Alaric had insisted that she darken the doorway of the high school today.
"You've got to remember there's a world out there, Elena. You're human. You're not even a hunter. Someday..." Alaric had gotten borderline choked up before being able to continue. "Someday I hope you'll look back at all of this like a bad dream. No vampires, no witches, nothing except normal."
While she doubted his vision for her future, she had gotten up this morning, showered, and gone through the suprisingly difficult task of getting dressed. What said "Everything is okay" when your friends were suffering and maybe even dying around you? What said "Don't notice me" when you glanced nervously at the clock every few minutes to see if 24 hours in 1861 were over yet?
She noticed she had written the word phoenix on her paper in place of filibuster and rubbed her eraser over the mistake. After all, if the Senate was dealing with phoenixes, they would not have had to travel in time to locate one.
The clock on the wall clicked ferociously, announcing another hour had passed. 3:00 p.m. The bell would ring in five minutes. She began to gather her materials, slipping her papers back into the three-ring binder and snapping it shut. Other students around her did the same.
"Yo, Ms. Kurtz, can I call my mom to come pick me up?" A voice suddenly came in jovially from the doorway. One of the sophomores from the football team stood there. Elena's stomach dropped as she realized he was soaking wet. "I was walking out to get my bag out of the gym, and it started raining again. No way Coach is going to have practice in this weather, but you know we're not allowed to have cell phones in the building."
Elena turned to look at Bonnie. Her eyes were also wide.
"Of course you can make a phone call, Harrison. Everyone else should begin packing up. Don't walk out the door until the bell rings." Mrs. Kurtz spoke from her desk without looking up. She seemed to be playing solitaire on her phone.
When the bell rang, Elena and Bonnie moved side by side in a silent fog. They dutifully went to their lockers, deposited their binders, grabbed their backpacks, and started out the side door for the student parking lot. As soon as they pushed open the red metal door to the outside, their fears were confirmed.
Rain poured from the sky in sheets, in blankets. The end-is-nigh weather was back with a vengenance.
"What time are they getting back to town?" Elena asked Bonnie, trying to keep her sudden pessismism from her voice.
"Cas didn't say when we talked, but I'd guess they'll be hitting the road soon. I'll call Caroline when I get over to Mrs. Cubbins. We're still working," Bonnie dropped her voice so that the throngs of students exiting around them would not hear, "on the a spell to pinpoint Eve's location. It should be ready by the time the phoenix ashes are back in Mystic Falls. Are you heading over to the Salvatores?"
The memory of Damon's hot kiss against her skin surfaced, pushing to be allowed into the forefront. I can't think about that now. I just can't. She shook head head to clear the thought.
"No. I'll go home and change into my rain boots and then call to see what's going on with Stefan. If Damon isn't there and the voices have started again..." She trailed off, not wanting to actually say aloud that the younger Salvatore might hurt her.
"Yeah," Bonnie said. "Listen, be safe until we all meet back up again? I've got a bad feeling."
"We've all had bad feelings for so long that I don't remember good feelings," Elena replied wryly. Her traitorous brain sent her the memory of the sensation of her heartbeat when Damon had kissed her.
"You're right." Bonnie took a step closer and wrapped Elena in a hug. Her thin arms squeezed tightly. She whispered in Elena's ear, "Just be careful around Stefan please. He'd never mean to hurt you."
They parted, and Elena drove home without cutting on the radio. The only sound was the pounding of the rain and the steady thumping of her windshield wipers. The driveway was empty when she pulled in; Alaric would still be at school, struggling to keep a job to pay the bills while still solving supernatural issues. She ducked out of the car and raced into the house and moved upstairs to her room to change. Damp and shivering, she stripped down and switched from normal September-in-Virginia weather to a sweater and jeans. Pictures on the wall of her room still made her sad, winking, smiling reminders of when she had had family and hobbies.
She picked up her phone to call Stefan when she heard a resounding knock on the door.
"Coming!" She called from upstairs, taking the steps down two-at-a-time. She peered through the peekhole and gasped. Elijah Mikaelson stood in perfect relaxation on her stoop, completely dry in spite of the weather in which he must have arrived. Denying him entry would be impossible; when Jenna was alive, she had innocently invited him in as Elijah Smith, an enthusiastic historical author. Yet her nervous response could be entirely unreasonable as he had none of his brother's volatility. She opened the door in spite of her own reservations.
"Hello Miss Gilbert," Elijah greeted. "I have a message for you from my Mother."
Smooth as silk, his voice should not have been able to make her insides turn to ice, but that was precisely what it did. His Mother. Eve had her hold on him. That knowledge erased all of her faith in his gentlemanly facade.
"What interest does your mother have with me?" Her voice quivered.
"That is none of your business. Your business is to come to the old Lockwood estate, so that she may speak with you."
"Speak with me?"
"Yes." Elijah did not elaborate.
"Why would you come and ask like this? I'd think she would just... take whatever it is she wants."
"Mother is here to bring us all peace and harmony, Elena. She is perfect and just."
"Just the same, I'd prefer not to... meet her just yet." Elena fumbled over the words, mind trying to formulate a plan. If she could schedule a time and a place for the meeting... if the Winchesters and company could get back from Tennessee quickly enough... if Bonnie and Mrs. Cubbins could figure out the proper way to use the phoenix ashes... then this unexpected twist of connection could work to their advantage.
Elijah took two steps, moving past her and stepping inside. The psychological effect served its purpose: a chilling reminder that he was invited into the Gilbert home. He stepped over to the stairwell and ran a finger along it, inspecting the dust he collected.
"A pity you've allowed such a stately old Southern home to be in such a state of disarray," Elijah frowned. "But no matter, I do not think you will desire to put off meeting with Mother. She has your brother."
Elena stiffened. Her horror barely formed a word as it fell from her lips. "What?"
"We made a trip to Denver to collect Jeremy. Mother has quickly learned that humans respond well to leverage." Elijah smiled benevolently. "She really is quite brilliant to have caught up on so much in such a short time."
Elena did not respond to his glowing endorsements of his mother. "What do I have to do to make certain Jeremy is safe?"
"As I said, you should see yourself to the cellar of the old Lockwood estate."
"You're not... taking me?"
"No. I am feeling quite... peckish. I need to have a meal before returning myself. You have a car, after all, and do not need to be carried. I must warn you, though, Miss Gilbert. You should not try any tricks. You should come alone, or you will be sacrificing your brother on the altar of an inevitably-failed attempt to stop Mother." He wiped his dusty finger on the foyer table's runner. "Do we have an agreement?"
She nodded. "I'll be there," she said hollowly. "Elijah, please... don't let her hurt him. He's all I have left."
Elijah looked at her for a long moment, and in his eyes, she thought she saw a flash of humanity, a touch of compassion. Then he was gone.
Fear had lurked as her constant companion so long that she had ceased to notice its presence, but now it lurched to its feet and loomed large over her. Her lungs tightened in her chest, and she thought of Jeremy. In her mind, he was not the six-foot muscled, capable teenager, but the little kid who had followed her around in their childhood. His almost-blonde mop had only come up to her chest then, and she used to get so mad at him for sneaking into her room to read her diary.
"He wants to be near you, honey," Mom had always said. Mom, with her gentle hands and soothing voice. Mom had always made them hug it out after a fight, and Jeremy had hated that part. Gumbling and grousing, he had always pouted until she tickled him and made him laugh. She had never stopped hearing that little boy's laugh every time he chuckled, no matter how burly his voice was getting these days.
She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, trying to push back the panic threatening to break through. The muscles in her face fought with her, and she squeezed her eyes shut to keep in the salty tears. She had to do whatever it took to save Jeremy, even if that meant going to Eve alone.
With shaking hands, she pulled on her rainboots, zipped up her slicker, and grabbed her car keys. Normally it took fifteen minutes to get to the old Lockwood plantation; she planned to make it in half that.
X
Damon answered the phone as soon as he saw Elena's name on the Caller ID. After a morning of reading, drinking, and watching Stefan do nothing, he had spent the afternoon reading, drinking, and watching Stefan do nothing. The temptation to get in his car and drive anywhere but here nipped at his heels every second. What did he owe the world? Since when was he responsible for stopping some ancient evil? He was a good-time guy, not a hero, and if his brother had thrown in the towel, it was downright weird for him not to do the same. Yet he stayed. He was no hero, but he was a man who could not resist the pull of a woman. Love had been his human weakness but more so, the weakness of his afterlife. He walked out of Stefan's dank dungeon lair to answer.
"I was wondering when I'd hear from you," he said as he stepped up the stairs into the living room. He took a few steps towards the window, surprised to see that the rain was back. "Lovely weather."
"Damon." Her voice was urgent. "Eve has Jeremy."
"What?"
"She has Jeremy. Elijah came to the house, and he says I have to go see her alone or she'll hurt Jeremy." Elena spit out her words in a mad rush, and Damon could hear the whirr of her vehicle's engine rumbling under her voice.
"Calm down, Elena. We'll figure this out. Don't go anywhere else. Come straight to my house. Where are you supposed to meet her?"
He heard her hesitate. "Damon, no. I can't risk anything happening to Jeremy."
"Elena, listen to me." He felt panic rising up through his body, sneaking from his nerves to his brain instead of the other way around. "Don't go anywhere. We don't even know why she'd want you, but if Elijah's involved, it has to do with Klaus. Let's make a plan."
"I just wanted to let you know what was going on, but I have to go alone. I can't let you stop me from saving Jeremy."
"I'm not trying to stop you. I'm trying to help you." He lied through his teeth, knowing full-well that he'd watch Jeremy die a thousand deaths before he would lose Elena. Unfortunately, he knew that Elena knew that too. He could hear it in the scared, shaky sigh she exhaled.
"We don't know that she plans to kill me. If that was the plan, she would have just had Elijah do it when he came to get me."
"We know nothing good is going to come out of this," he said, agitated. "Turn your over-eager ass around, Kamikaze Kate, and we can fix this."
"You'd never choose him over me, and right now, I can't think of anything more important I could do. Bye, Damon. I'll call you later."
She hung up, and even though her fearful, nervous voice did not say goodbye with any finality, he feared what her decision would mean. He looked down at the phone in his hand and felt the fear tap the wellspring of rage inside him. With a snarl of frustration, he threw his phone across the room. It hit the wall and smashed into pieces. Satisfied with the sound of smashing, he threw the decanter of bourbon from the table across the room and watched the glass and liquid explode.
Then he turned on his heel and marched back down the dungeon stairs.
"Stefan, get your sorry ass up." The lack of joking and snark in his voice made it sound like a stranger's. Stefan came into view, sallow and slumped in that stupid wooden chair, and Damon's rage flew higher. "Elena's in trouble, and I need your help."
Stefan neither blinked nor turned his head. He showed no signs of hearing his brother.
Damon crossed the room to him and gripped him by both shoulders, digging his fingers in so hard that he felt Stefan's fabric, flesh, and then muscle give way. Stefan grunted in pain but did not look up. Damon pulled his fingers out and grabbed his brother's face this time. His bloody fingers left prints on the fair skin.
"I know you've got yourself all amped up for a guilt trip and that you want a century or two to sit and stew over how you're not perfect like you always want to be, but I have a newsflash for you: no one gives a damn that you're not Super-Stefan. You want to cry over spilled blood? Do it after you've helped clean up the mess," Damon saw a drop of his spit land on Stefan's cheek. "Right now? Elena is driving to meet Eve to save her little brother, and I have no idea how to save her. I don't even know where she's going. What I do know is that I need you to get up, juice up, and help me unless you've got an incredible excuse not to."
Stefan's cloudy eyes finally closed. "I can't hear her right now."
Damon's shoulders dropped half an inch in relief. "Yeah, I know, and I know that could change at any second. But we'll tune her out, brother. We've got to figure out how to get to Elena."
"Okay." Stefan reached up to steady himself against Damon's shoulder, trying to stand up. "I need blood."
"It's gotta be human. That's all I've got on tap." Damon enjoyed hearing his own sarcastic humor again; it stemmed the flow of fear in his veins.
"Okay."
"Is that your new favorite word or something? Give me your phone. I've got a call to make while you raid the fridge"
Stefan obediently, if slowly, handed Damon his phone, and Damon marched back up the stairs. He scrolled through the contacts until he found Klaus's name. The phone rang until it reached voicemail. He hung up and dialed again. Voicemail again. He dialed again, and this time on the third ring, he got an answer.
"Has no one ever told you how incredibly rude it is to call repeatedly?" Klaus's annoyance was palpabable.
"Your big brother is running around doing Mummy's bidding, so I wasn't exactly checking Dear Abby for the politest way to get your attention," Damon replied, voice hiding how frantic he felt. As he spoke, he closed his hands around a satchel and began to search for items to put into it. A wooden stake in the top drawer, a sealed vial of vervain tucked under the coffee table... suddenly all the little protective cosies around the house had immediate purpose.
"Elijah was there?" Klaus's voice became a hiss.
"Yes and no. He's managed to convince my girlfriend to meet with the Psycho Bitch in order to save her brother. So as you can see, we have family problems all around." Damon flipped the satchel shut and moved over to stick his head down the cellar steps. "C'mon, Stefan, we don't have time for you to gel your 'do."
"I'm sorry, Damon, but who exactly is your girlfriend?" Even in a moment of potential crisis, Klaus found sarcasm irresistable. Realizing his own mistake actually took Damon a moment. Elena was not his girlfriend, the love of his life, perhaps, but not his girlfriend.
"Shut up. Listen. What matters is that Eve is in town, and we need to find her to stop her from hurting Elena. Now."
Stefan walked up the stairs now. His hollow eyes closed as he sucked the last drops from a blood bag.
"I'll meet you at Elena's house. Eve will not kill my doppelganger."
As Klaus hung up the phone, Damon could not even salvage anger at the possessive reference to Elena as a human blood bag.
"Let's go," he said. Stefan nodded.
"It'll be faster to go on foot," Stefan said. With human blood flowing through his system, he would have strength in spades.
Many days, the Salvatores had taken cars because animal blood clogged the younger brother. Today would not be one of those days. Many days, the Salvatores' relationship teetered on the edge of friendship and enmity, requiring deconstruction by the moment. Today would not be one of those days. Today they moved with one purpose in a familiar situation.
They were going to save the woman they loved.
They broke into a run, unheeding of the rain or wind, two apex predators on a mission.
X
Sam's habit of watching Dean used to get him in trouble. When he was a kid, he used to drive his brother crazy, sitting on the ugly ripped linoleum floor and just watching him. Dean would roll up his shirt sleeves and start using the microwave on the motel counter with all the flourish of a chef. Looking back, Sam recognized that those shirt sleeves had always been rolled up because the shirts were Dad's and that the meals that had impressed him so were box macaroni cheese and ham sandwiches on soggy white bread. But at the time, he had thought Dean walked on water.
Moments like this made him realize he had never fully lost the habit.
Castiel had calmed the phoenix – a man named Elias Finch – down physically, but Dean stepped in next. Sam watched him get everyone to take a seat and cool off, even adding a chuckle at his own joke. A few side comments, proferred beer all around, and a Harry Potter reference cracked open Elias's reserves. Dean put Caroline on his right side where he could keep a hand protectively close in case the phoenix tried anything and put Sam on his left. Sam watched it happen with a touch of that same child-like awe. He would always be a little brother whose big brother had the world figured out. He had spared a glance over at Castiel then to see an expression not so very different on the angel's face. Cas would always be an angel who stood in awe of humanity through the lens of one human man.
Sam listened as the phoenix explained 500-odd years of life, describing events and phenomenons that only Castiel seemed to understand, and then shared the story of how he ended up in 1861. Sam wanted to ask him a million questions about his species, so underrepresented in the lore, but sensed it was neither the place nor time.
"I've never tried to live among humans before now, but I saw Sarah – that's my... wife," Elias rolled the word awkwardly on his tongue, unfamiliar with the taste of it. "She was at the river washing clothes with a black eye and swollen limp, bruises up and down her arms, and crying. You know I'd been alive for centuries and I'd never seen a human cry? I'd never gotten that close before. You remember the first time you saw a human cry?"
He directed the question to Castiel, dark eyes knowing. Cas stared at him for those three beats too long that he always did, and then his mouth tilted from straight to angled for just a moment, a fleeting smile.
"I do."
"Then you remember," Elias smiled himself now, not a true smile but a nodded acknowledgement of something big. "I don't know anything 'bout angels. Didn't even know you existed until a few minutes ago. But for me, I'd been alone so long, but I'd never realized humans were actually sentient until I saw this little girl crying. I could see her loneliness the same way I saw mine, and I just wanted to help her. So I moved into Sunrise, and little by little, I figured out how to live among people."
He looked to Cas again. He seemed to sense understanding in Cas that the others could not provide.
"I work and eat food, and I was able to get Sarah out of her father's house. I'd have been able to do it sooner, but I've been fighting vampires." Elias turned his dark eyes to Caroline. Dean shifted beside her, hand twitching protectively at his side. She jutted her chin out.
"Maybe you should have been concentrating on helping that abused girl rather than killing other women," she said. A toss of her head sent a spray of her blonde curls flying, even as messy and greasy as they were. Sam noticed she avoided Castiel's gaze entirely since he had announced his species. From a place of academic curiosity, he wanted to ask why.
Elias coughed low in his throat, embarrassed. "If you'll pardon me saying so, I've never been one to think of vampires as men or women. You aren't human."
"I was." An eyebrow raise accompanied her arch reply.
"Your people were hunting in the town. I was just trying to protect humans."
Dean turned his head, looking up in a moment of realization, and then touched Caroline's knee. "That vamp you scared off on the edge of town must have been one of them. You and Elias were fighting on the same team and didn't even know it."
"He kidnapped me and tried to kill me," Caroline said petulantly.
"You tried to kill me too," Elias pointed out the obvious.
"I had a good reason!"
"So did I."
Sam watched the back and forth, head following the volleyed words like a tennis match, when Bobby cleared his throat. He leaned forward in his chair, pushed his hat back to scratch his head, and then pulled it into position again.
"Trust me, cupcake." He had his eye on Caroline as he spoke. "No one is more interested in your interpersonal crap than I am."
Dean laughed, ever appreciative of good sarcasm.
"But we've got real problems to solve. Instead of having a Hallmark conversation about humanity, someone ought to tell Mr. Finch here exactly why we traveled back to 1861 to kill him," Bobby said.
"Bobby's right." Dean nodded. He began to explain, taking a surprisingly serious tone for himself. He outlined the threat of Eve and Purgatory and Hell on Earth with a soft sell, and Elias listened, rubbing his thumb along his lower lip thoughtfully. Sam jumped in once to clarify the power she had over monsters, taking away their free will, but he wondered if it was right to expect this creature to care about a problem in a time that was not even his own.
"So basically, we need a little of your fairy dust to make us fly," Dean concluded, holding his hands wide in front of him and grinning. "What do you say?"
"Is now really the time for Peter Pan?" Caroline asked with an eyeroll that proved she was a teenager. Sam noticed a smile twitching on the corners of her mouth, though, and wondered if Dean realized he had won himself a fan.
"Unless Peter Pan is able to help us obtain phoenix ashes, I agree with her. We need to focus," Castiel added. Sternness etched itself on his features, and Dean chuckled to himself without explaining.
Elias ignored their banter but spoke up when they finished. "Stopping the Mother of All Monsters just requires a little phoenix ash, eh?"
"Not that we necessarily want you to die for it..." Caroline's voice was small.
On that front, Sam felt conflicted. Wanting anyone to die for a cause felt wrong; he remembered the long weeks of agony as he and Dean shared the burden of that decision about the Apocalypse. If he had learned anything from those two stubborn brothers struggling to die for one another, it was that self-sacrifice did not come easy. The only thing harder was sacrificing the people you loved. Images of Jess, Ellen, and Jo floated across his mind. Somewhere in 1861, Sarah now-Finch might miss the newfound companionship and safety Elias represented.
Here and now, though, they needed to stop Eve no matter what it cost. Sam knew if he were still soulless he could have done the deed for them. He would have figured out a way to kill Finch while the creature was talking and then he would have handled it without batting an eye. Reckless, ruthless efficiency had its place. He watched everyone watch Elias Finch and look for words to say.
Finch lifted his beer to his lips and took a long draw. He wiped the back of his mouth with his sleeve. If holding every eye in the room made him uncomfortable, he didn't show it. Finally he held out his right hand, fingers splayed and palm up.
"Okay, so this isn't exactly an answer," Dean muttered to no one in particular as Elias Finch stared at his own hand.
Elias curled his fingers in towards the palm. As they curled, they burned away from tip to base, changing from inflamed digits into a pile of ash that rested in the palm of the hand. The naked fingerless hand created a stark image.
"You've got to be freakin' shitting me," Dean said. Sam stifled a smile.
"We regenerate from our ashes," Elias explained. He took the last sip of his beer with his left hand and then tilted the ashes into the empty bottle. "It'll take a little while, but my hand will regrow. Use the ashes for your quest. Beat the Mother of All and seal up Purgatory or whatever it is you're trying to do. Just send me home."
Sam accepted the bottle of ashes, and a little ray of hope blossomed out inside of him.
Elias Finch had given them what they needed, and yet he was going to be back home in time for dinner with his wife. Maybe there were ways to win without self-sacrifice.
X
"Do not approach her unless ordered. Do not break rank. Do not disobey me."
Klaus heard the echo of his own orders in his head as his feet carried him toward the Gilbert house. To move faster than rain was no trouble for a short distance, but thundering across town was another matter. The sheets of precipitation soaked through his clothes and made vision – which was superfulous realy – nearly impossible. Dozens of hybrid feet thudded the ground behind him, drumming out a marching cadence. If he had not been preoccupied, he would have enjoyed the melody. His thoughts were on Elijah instead.
How could his brother be working for something so evil? Of all the Mikaelsons, Elijah alone kept both his humanity and his supreme power. Klaus had felt the absolute inhumanity of Eve. She might be the Mother of All Monsters, but for creatures such as vampires, that was a half-story at best. Klaus denied his humanity as often as he could, but at his core, he knew it was what made them superior to other monsters just as their monsterhood made them superior to the humans. Subjugating oneself to a creature of lesser matter such as Eve seemed so unlike Elijah, and Klaus feared what that meant for her power. In spite of bringin an army, he would have to tread carefully. He did not want a victory that did not end with his brother alive.
Pragmatically, he also needed Elena for her life-giving capabilities. Did he not have werewolves chained in his house this very moment waiting to be turned into hybrids?
He turned the corner of the neighborhood, unheeding of what humans might see the supernatural army amassing outside the Gilbert house. The walkway showed its owner's lack of regard for her lawn; weeds grew through the stones, and the grass needed to be mowed. Her sloppiness did not impress.
On the porch, he saw the two Salvatore brothers. Her had seen them at one another's throats, hands in each other's blood, necks snapped, but at the moment, they stood shoulder to shoulder. Damon stood one step in front of Stefan, almost imperceptible, while Stefan stood closer than normal, the front of his shoulder actually touching the back of Damon's. Klaus recognized in it the old cliché of the older brother shielding the younger. In his family, he liked to think the younger brother stood as greatest of them all – that he stood behind no one. But as he looked at their stark, strained faces, he wondered what it would be like to allow someone to stand before you, ready to absorb the blows yet to come.
"She's gone," Damon said in way of a greeting. Every person knew that Elena was the only person in Damon's life who could be represented with a single pronoun.
"And Eve is back." Stefan touched his temple unconsciously as he spoke.
Klaus almost growled. If she wanted war, he would bring her war. If Mommy didn't want to share power, she could die. He was Niklaus Mikaelson, for God's sake.
"Then we kill her."
