Thursday Afternoon

Mercy went to work. She would have loved to take a nap herself, but she had bills to pay. Well, not really, not anymore. Now that she was a married woman, money wasn't as pressingly important. Still, she enjoyed the work and prided herself on a business that was self-sustaining. Adam would give her all the money she needed if business came up a little short, but she had no intention of going there. Thankfully, Zee showed up again, so she would have help since she got a late start.

Without the potentially homicidal car owner around to worry about, Zee ran a hand over the Impala while muttering at it in old german.

"Please tell me you are not messing with his car," Mercy begged. "He gets really touchy about that car, Zee. It's practically the fourth member of their family."

"Ja, Leibling, this I can tell." Zee lifted his hand from the machine in question. With a satisfied expression on his face, he leaned back from the car. "There is a lot of love in this auto. Much more, and she will Become."

Mercy's ear twitched; she heard the capital letter on the word. "Become...what? What are you talking about? What does 'Become' mean here?"

"Mmm. You know of quenching. That we fae can create a weapon and make it greater by quenching it in the blood of a strong enemy." Zee looked at his protege to be sure she understood.

"Yes, that's kinda what happened with my walking stick, right?"

"Kind of," Zee smirked, "but as with everything to do with a trickster's daughter, the quenched spear did not behave as anyone would expect."

"Naturally," Mercy agreed. She still missed her walking stick.

"An object, leblos, inanimate can be infused with a fae's life force, from creator and quencher and wielder. Can Become an item of power. Your walking stick, it was made to do one thing. It Became more, it Became a kind of alive."

Zee patted the Impala again. "This car...she is more than a trophy or a point of pride. She is loved a long time; she is treated like more than leblos."

"Fae artifacts ...Becoming... I can understand. Fae have power. Dean...I don't want to say Dean's only human, but he is human. Can people do that?" Mercy wanted to know.

"Some, not many, but some humans have a power of their own. Older and deeper than they know. " Zee's face went contemplative and his attention drifted. "I wonder... Acts of power quicken a Becoming: births, deaths, conceptions of new life, marriages uniting two lives, moments of great pain, great joy, great triumph. These things are a human's medium of power."

Mercy remember the conversation concerning the bodily fluids. Sam nearly born in the front seat, sex in the back seat, brothers and fathers bleeding out on the way to the hospital. Did their parents conceive Dean in that same backseat as teenagers? Did one of them die in the front, even for a few minutes before resuscitation? She had no doubt that this car had seen more terrors and triumphs in its owner's lives than any other vehicle.

"Interesting times, Leibling, I can wait and see what comes of this auto."

Mercy considered the classic car. "Any guesses on what it will Become?"

"Nein. That I could not tell. Not without adding some of my power to her." Zee amended. "That would not be forgiven so easily, I don't think."

"No, probably not," Mercy agreed.

He shook himself from his musings. "But, that is not why I am here. A fae I know, a friendly enemy, says she knows which Wolves attacked you and who held their leash. She does not like Wolves, thinks they are low creatures too much ruled by instinct. Bran has earned her respect, so she tolerates the rest because they know enough to put themselves under their Marrok.

"I cannot let her tell me. I would owe her on your behalf and that would tip the balance of hostilities between us. She will not tell Adam. He is no longer submissive to Bran and there is no respect established between her and your Wulfen." Zee cocked an eyebrow to see if she understood where he was going.

"She might tell me. Zee, I'm not a Wolf but I am Pack." Mercy knew he understood that, but would the other fae, this friendly enemy, appreciate the distinction?

"You are the Trickster's almost-daughter. You returned his father's stick to Beauclaire and took it from him again. Now, it is forever beyond him." Zee chuckled. "Many of my people enjoyed hearing that. She said she will meet with you and decide for herself. I am allowed," he spat the word as though it tasted rotten on his tongue, "to tell you she will be at Uncle Mike's tonight. But only if I agreed not to accompany you."

"So, maybe get info. But no Wolf back-up. And you can't watch out for me, either." Mercy sighed. "Even if I was willing to go alone, Adam would never approve."

Zee grunted his acknowledgment of her dilemma. "Ask the Waschlappen."

Mercy blinked her surprise at the suggestion. "A human? In Uncle Mike's? Is that wise?"

"He is human," Zee agreed with a wicked glint in eyes. The type of look he got when he knew someone was stupidly underestimating something. "But we have both seen that he is not only human. Ask him not to kill too many. It is long past time my kind started respecting our neighbors."