Sam stood outside Max's door, his knuckles hovering over the wood. He wanted to talk to her, to apologize. He hesitated thinking maybe it would be better, if he let it go. It was just a kiss, he thought, knowing he was lying to himself. He rapped his knuckles on the door.
After not receiving an answer, he decided to knock a little louder, thinking maybe she was sleeping. But still nothing.
"Max," he called. "Are you in there?"
A dread started in the pit of his stomach and he reached for the doorknob. Unlocked. He slowly swung the door open to find the room empty.
He hit the nearest wall with his fist. Max was gone. Her stuff was gone. She'd left. Was it because of him?
Max hurriedly looked through the crates and boxes in the bowels of the bunker. She knew that someone would discover her gone from her room any time now. But she couldn't leave without it—her sword.
She couldn't sleep and she couldn't stay in her room after the kiss with Sam, so she went back to the library. This time she was searching out history on herself, on her sword. She knew the boy she had given it to was a Winchester ancestor. It's one of the many reasons she got so pissed when she finally figured out who Dean was that first night. She couldn't believe she didn't recognize his eyes, the boy's eyes.
She had laughed when she first saw the boy, although he was considered a man back then at about 16. He was standing by himself, a crude axe resting against his shoulder. His sandy hair was cut close to his beautiful face, which was set like stone.
She walked within striking distance, not fearing the lone child. He didn't move a muscle, didn't flinch, as she got closer. And that irked her.
"Wish to be the first to die?" she asked him.
"They'll be no killing in my village. The only ones set to die today are you and your demon master."
"Then where is your army?" she chided him.
The boy looked her straight in the eyes. "I am the army."
She went to draw her sword, to strike him down, but she couldn't remove it from its sheath on her back. He took the opportunity to swing his axe at her. She easily caught it and ripped it away from the boy.
"I don't need a weapon to kill you, but let's see how you fare without one!" she lunged at the boy.
As soon as she made contact, the world stopped around her while time went in to fast-forward. The images were too fast for her to focus on any one. All the lives she had cut down. More death, more war. New life. Destruction like she had never seen. Structures she couldn't imagine. Disease. Famine. Everything, until it came to a halt on one image
She saw the beautiful, smiling face of an infant. Eyes like the boy's, green-gold. She didn't know when, or who, or why. She just knew this child would change everything. And the tar and soot and hate around her heart melted. A tear ran down her cheek.
The world righted itself and she was back on the field, laying flat on her back. The boy had her sword and its tip was pressed against her neck. It was one of the few weapons in existence that might actually be able to kill her.
"Do it!" she told him, through the tears that were now streaming down her cheek. "I deserve it."
His head cocked to the side, like he was listening to someone talk. He then looked her in the eyes again. "It is not your time to die," his voice had changed, become more. It seemed like it was all around her. "You have much to do, but first you must choose."
It was in that moment that Seth came riding over the horizon. His face twisted in rage when he saw Max prone on the ground. She turned when she heard the hoof beats and for the first time, saw Seth for what he was.
His face was charred skin with bone exposed in places. His eyes were empty black pits. Behind him, black, billowing forms followed. Even his horse was skeletal with patches of skin missing. She questioned what she had been following.
A power rose up from within her. She cast her hand back, letting out a scream. A ripple went out from where she lay and when it hit the ghastly figure, he and his horse disintegrated in to ash, carried away by the wind.
She turned back to the boy, to see him holding out his hand to help her up. She was a little leery after their last touch, but took the chance and grabbed his hand. He pulled her up with amazing ease. He was a lot stronger than he looked.
"I'm going to keep this," he told her, indicating the sword.
She simply nodded in agreement.
The boy turned and started walking away.
"Wait!" she called after him. "You'll need more than that to convince them you defeated us."
Max picked up a couple of good-sized rocks. She requested the sword from the boy for a moment, and he complied. She cut her palm and then drew a couple of symbols on the rocks in her blood. They transformed into likeness of her and Seth's heads. She did the same with a stick so that it appeared as Seth's sword. Then she handed it all to the boy.
"You will never hear about us again," she promised.
The boy took his bounty and went on his way, leaving Max standing there, wondering what she was going to do next. She decided to travel, became a healer, a teacher. And every now and again she would check on the boy and his descendants.
That was another reason she was so mad that night she met Dean. She couldn't believe the Winchesters turned hunter when they had been one of the oldest lines in the Men of Letters. Especially when she thought hunters were barbarians and killers. It's amazing what changes in 150 years.
She found a crate in a far corner and went to move it so she could open it. As soon as she touched it, she knew her sword, the Scythe, was inside. It called to her, recognized her, even after all this time. It had been made specifically for her and some of her blood had been placed in an ampule in the hilt of the sword.
She opened the crate and paused. The sword was as magnificent as she remembered. It was a long sword, poured in a mold she carved with a spear point. The Crucifixion nail was in the fuller of the blade, preserved by the mysteries of the Christian God. It was double-edged so that it was deadly no matter which way it was swung. The hilt was wrapped in leather, dyed red. And the pommel was carved with a reaper's scythe in the center.
She pulled it out of the crate. It felt like an old friend had returned. She only hoped that it would be able to do what she wanted.
Now to find Jack for the second part of my plan. She was going to save Dean, but she couldn't do it alone.