A/N: That was a long hiatus, wasn't it? Sorry. Despite my plans to try to finish this story over summer, I got very caught up writing other stuff. However, I'm still trying to make some sure but steady progress on this. This chapter was honestly a nightmare to write and went through so many drafts I lost count, but hopefully it ended up being okay. It's complicated. I do know it's complicated and I'm trying to explain it as best I can, but there is a lot of mythology to explain here. I do want to put in enough detail but I also want to keep moving and get to the next chapter, for reasons I'll explain more thoroughly in another note at the end.
Chapter Nine - Bunked
By the time they arrived at their destination, several empty food cartoons and scrunches of greasy paper were strewn across the back seat, accompanied by Cristina sitting in a state of semi-disbelief at the story she'd just been told. While on the one hand she was feeling less panicked and less hungry, there was still part of her wondering if she'd just been kidnapped by a pair of nutcases. What they'd told her sounded literally insane.
Between them, both Winchesters had just about managed to run down everything important from Sam dying the first time to Dean getting back from Purgatory to what the angels had been doing since. They hadn't quite reached the point of explaining the Men of Letters, so when they finally pulled up outside the entrance to the bunker, Cristina did a double take. "Wait, this is it? We're here?"
Sam glanced back at her as he began to exit the car. "Yep, this is it."
Cristina let herself out of the Impala, leaning on the door as she stared up incredulously at the concrete structure in front of her. "Great. So you're two demon hunters who keep coming back from the dead and live in a Cold War version of a hobbit hole," she remarked drily, wondering how the hell she wasn't dreaming.
She was about to close the door and start walking towards the steps to the entrance as Dean responded. "We prefer to think of it as the Batcave," he said, and then shot her a reproving look. "And hey, could you not leave your trash in my car?"
His tone was light-hearted, but Cristina still scowled at him before she leaned back into the car to collect her litter. "Oh no, there's garbage in my car, the world's going to end! Except that shouldn't be a problem since I'm apparently so good at stopping it," she mocked sarcastically as she screwed up one of the burger wrappers and petulantly threw it at him.
He ducked and picked up the ball to throw it back. "Hey, that car has actually helped stop the end of the world before, and the last way she needs repaying is with you getting grease on the back seats."
Cristina scoffed as the ball hit her and looked like she was going to retaliate again, but Sam rolled his eyes at the pair of them. "What are you both, twelve?" he said as he collected their duffel bags from the trunk. "Let's get inside. We aren't warded out here."
After Dean and Cristina had shot a final petulant glare at each other, the three of them headed towards the steps descending towards the entrance. As they reached the doorway, Cristina's eyes roamed across the walls enclosing it, taking in the symbols that had been scrawled across the concrete in fresh-looking white paint. They weren't anything she recognized, but they resembled something she might expect to crop up in a horror movie or a book of witchcraft. The sight made her a little nervous to go inside, and had her brain not already been reeling with too much information she didn't know how to process, she might have asked what they meant.
Dean let them in, and as Cristina tentatively followed him inside, her jaw dropped open at the sight beyond. They were standing on a platform at the top of a metal staircase, looking down on a vast hall that extended as far back as what Cristina thought would be two lengths of her apartment. Below them a long rectangular table was situated in the middle of the floor and she could see several more corridors leading off from the central space. Lights set high up in the ceiling illuminated the area right up to the back wall. "Whoa," she gasped. "Never mind Batcave, this is a freakin' TARDIS. Way bigger on the inside."
"I have no idea what that means," Dean responded as he began to descend the stairs, but couldn't help but smile at the fact she actually seemed impressed, for once.
Cristina couldn't reply before a figure had appeared in the hallway below, emerging from one if the annexes on the left. "Finally. I tried calling. I was starting to worry you weren't gonna make it back."
Cristina looked down to see a man - who she would have guessed was a couple years younger than her had it not been for the prematurely aging effect of his exhausted expression - staring up at them as they descended the stairs. His short dark hair was dishevelled and his brown eyes bleary, combined with a voice that sounded fried from anxiety and stress.
"We got back as fast as we could. Had to throw my phone," Dean grunted as he walked past him, throwing his duffel down on the table.
Cristina had a curious eyebrow raised and Sam introduced them. "Cristina, this is Kevin, the Prophet."
She vaguely recalled that name coming up at some point in the car journey. "Hi," she greeted in a deadpan voice. "They kidnap you too?"
His already tired look became even more disgruntled. "Actually, yeah," he answered, managing to sound even more forlorn than she did. "That's pretty much how this started."
"That sucks, man."
"Yeah, I know, but that seems to be how this end of the world thing goes. Sorry you had to get dragged into it."
Well, he seems nice, Cristina found herself thinking, but a fresh wave of anxiety crashed over her as she took in his fatigued and frazzled state. Oh hell, even if I get out of this alive, is that how I'm going to end up?
"Well, we're hoping we can find a way to fix this quickly," Sam said from behind her. "Kevin, you got anything?"
Kevin sighed and turned to walk back the way he came from. "Actually, yeah. I think I have something," he said, gesturing for them to follow. Cristina followed Sam and Dean's lead into a room that was clearly the kitchen. On the table in the middle, Kevin had a laptop opened with some notepaper in front of it, and on the left were two stone tablets covered in engravings. Cristina eyed them curiously before glancing at the half-full coffee mug and partially eaten sandwich Kevin had set down on the opposite side of him. Judging from the strong scent of coffee, he'd been running on caffeine for a while. Cristina found herself wondering when was the last time he'd slept.
"Alright," Kevin said, taking a seat in front of the computer again while Sam and Dean went to each hover over his shoulder. Cristina sat down in the chair opposite, unceremoniously dumping the food wrappers she was still carrying onto the table. "I was going through the tablets, and there seems to be a section common to both the Angel and Demon one. From what I've been able to translate, it mentions a Gatekeeper."
"What, you mean like St Peter?" Sam put in, but Kevin shook his head.
"Not as far as I can tell. It looks like it's someone who's got master keys to all of Heaven, Hell...there's even a mention of Purgatory. If we want to permanently close the gates on both the angels and demons, then I'm guessing that's who we have to go through."
"And what about the Wedding? Anything on that?" Dean asked as he glanced over the notes Kevin had scribbled down.
"Nothing specific," Kevin replied, gesturing at the computer screen. "I've been going over translations of the Book of Revelation and the Renaissance interpretations of the prophecy, and best I can figure, if we shut the Gates of Heaven, that stops a union with Earth being able to happen. So basically, if we shut the Gates, we stop the Wedding. If the Wedding happens, that stops us shutting the Gates. It's all down to who executes their plan first."
Dean let out a heavy breath, straightening up and rubbing a hand over his eyes. "Great. And do we actually have a plan? You mentioned a Gatekeeper, so how do we go about getting this guy to board up Heaven?"
"I'm still working on that," Kevin replied, his look of frustration matched by both Winchesters when they heard the answer. "Look, if you need me to get something specific, I don't think I can do it without the original text of the Prophecy."
"And we've told you that won't be possible."
The voice came from somewhere behind Cristina, and she jumped again, spinning around in her seat to see two figures walking through the entrance to the kitchen. The speaker, it transpired, was the woman she'd seen in the alleyway earlier, accompanied by Castiel. When the hell did they get here? she wondered, although it was only one more question in an ever growing list.
She turned back round to see Dean cast a cool gaze in the woman's direction before looking much more warmly towards Castiel. "Great, you're back. Run into any trouble?"
"No more than expected," Cas answered, "I believe the rest of the Party are currently searching for you in Wisconsin. That should keep them occupied for a while."
Dean nodded in acknowledgement while Sam responded. "Good, because time's what we need right now."
Cristina was almost completely lost, not really having a clue what was going on, until something occurred to her suddenly. "Whoa, whoa, wait!" she interjected urgently, cutting off anything any of them might have been about to say. "You said this place was warded against angels, right? Well, they're angels!" She jabbed a finger at Lydia and Cas. "What are they doing here?" She was staring at Sam and Dean, sounding panicked, but Cas answered quickly to calm her.
"Our names are written Enochian over the front entrance," he stated. "It acts as an invitation to allow us to enter while other angels cannot."
Cristina twisted in her seat to look at him, cocking an eyebrow as she stared up at his completely passive face. She thought that might have been meant to reassure her, but she was too confused for it to work. "I'm not following."
"We aren't going anywhere. There's no need for you to follow."
He seemed to mean it entirely seriously, and her eyebrow crept higher until she was wearing an are you for real? kind of expression. Are all angels this literal? Exasperated, Cristina turned around again and shook her head. "Never mind. Just… if you people know what you're talking about, please get on and talk about it, because the sooner you sort this, the sooner I can go home."
They resumed the conversation where Kevin had left off. Sam cast a glance towards Lydia, noticeably less hostile than Dean's. "Are you sure there's no way for us to get hold of a copy of the original prophecy somehow? Because it looks like we're gonna need more than what you can tell us."
Lydia gave an exasperated sigh. "Believe me, Sam, if I could show you what was contained in the original, I would, but as I have already explained, the burning of the Prophecy was one of the Sixty-Six Seals." Her gaze hardened then, seeming almost reproachful as she stared at Sam and Dean. "I hardly need remind you why those seals were broken."
Both Winchesters glanced awkwardly away for a brief moment, but Dean was quick to look back again with an even harder stare than before. Before he could retaliate, however, Cristina had interjected again. "Wait, seals!" she said, looking excited that she'd finally understood something. "I remember that! You mentioned seals in the car. They're something to do with starting the Apocalypse, right?"
Lydia glanced down at her, seeming surprised by her contribution. "Yes," she answered, for the first time fixing her full attention on Cristina and looking at her properly. So this is the Bride, the angel thought to herself. How little she knows of the role she has to play. "That is correct. For six hundred years we kept the Prophecy hidden from the demon Mammon, who sought to discover its contents in service of his master, Lucifer. However, then the first seal was broken," – she shot a brief glare at Dean – "and so began the process of freeing Lucifer from his cage. One of the seals was the Prophecy, which was to be discovered by Mammon and then destroyed, so that only he could tell Lucifer of the secrets it held. Many angels died protecting it."
Again, she glared at the Winchesters, and Cristina had the distinct feeling that she was missing something. But then, she knew was missing a lot of things.
"When the Apocalypse was averted," Lydia continued, returning her attention to Cristina. "And Lucifer failed to conquer Michael, that knowledge became redundant. That is, until recently, when the Winchesters discovered the tablets that could allow them to close the gates of Heaven and Hell. Naturally, many angels and demons – Mammon among them - do not wish for them to succeed."
She paused, giving Cristina chance to lean back in her chair while she tried to process what she was being told. The angel's gaze was fixed on her, calm but piercing, and Cristina squirmed under the cool blue intensity of her stare. But at the same time, she found she couldn't look away. This was the first time she'd properly had chance to interact with – or so much as look at – Lydia since their brief encounter in the alleyway, and honestly, Cristina found she was somewhat awed. Lydia was stunning. Ice blue eyes, diamond hard and sapphire bright, glinted at her from between long, delicate lashes. Her lips were full, pale pink and perfectly shaped, and her skin a flawless alabaster. Fine strands of shimmering gold swept across her forehead, perfectly accentuating the lines of her high cheekbones and narrow jaw. Had someone told Cristina to imagine an angel, a face like Lydia's is what she would have pictured. Not the bank manager in a trenchcoat standing by her side.
"But, um…" Cristina tried to respond, suddenly finding it difficult to speak as the angel scrutinized her. "But you're an angel, and you want the Gates to be closed?"
Lydia's facial expression didn't change as she prepared to answer, but Dean cut in. "See, that's a damn good question," he remarked harshly. "That's actually what I've been wanting to know ever since you showed up. All the other angels seem happy to go along with this Chemical Wedding thing and destroying the world, but yet you're the only one completely on board with slamming the gates shut. Why is that?"
At his accusatory tone, a ripple of tension crackled through air. Something dangerous flashed in Lydia's eyes, then she turned her head very slowly to fix her gaze on him. "Still don't trust me, do you, Dean?"
He stared back, his own gaze just as hard. "No. Can't say I do."
She pursed her lips, and then took two slow, deliberate steps towards him. He didn't break eye contact. "I spent centuries planning this Wedding," she said coolly, lowering her voice in indignation. "Millennia, even, meticulously planning out every detail, bringing Rosenkreutz to the Temple to receive divine wisdom, ensuring everything would go as planned. The Apocalypse would happen, Michael would be victorious, and Heaven would unite with Earth as our Father intended. Of course, then you two showed up to stop that happening," – she jabbed an accusatory finger at him – "Now Heaven's in chaos and all the angels are running round in disarray trying to find a way to stop you locking them inside for eternity, and they seem to think the best way to do that is to just throw out all the centuries of planning I did and make up their own version of destiny. But that's the thing about me, Dean. Unlike them, I'm patient. It doesn't matter if you lock us up for however long you think you can; destiny will happen eventually, one way or another. Maybe it will be in another hundred years, maybe ten thousand, but there will be another Righteous Man in Hell. Lucifer and Michael will be freed from the Cage, and it won't matter then if the Gates of Heaven are shut because the walls will all come crumbling down and Heaven and Earth will unite as they were meant to. I'm prepared to wait to see our Father's plan come to fruition rather than watch my brothers and sisters do a botched job of it now."
"See, that's what you don't seem to be understanding," Dean retaliated, his voice a low, rumbling growl. "We're not looking to postpone this Wedding; we're looking to stop it. For good. Same as we stopped the Apocalypse and same as we're gonna slam those pearly gates shut so you feathered sons of bitches can never get back out."
Her eyes narrowed and she leaned in even closer to him, barely inches from his face. "And how do you think you'll stop it, boy, centuries from now when you're nothing but dust in the ground?"
Dean's glare still didn't waver, but that sentence was enough to prompt an intervention from Castiel. "Lydia," he warned. He said nothing but her name, although his tone very clearly meant back off.
Lydia only briefly acknowledged him with a flicker of her eyes, but she and Dean continued to glare at each other.
"Dean," Sam said, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder to try to get him to back away. This wasn't helping anyone. "The point is, for now, we're on the same side, and that's what we need to focus on. We're never gonna find a way to stop this if we're at each other's throats."
Sam's words seemed to have an effect. Dean scowled down at the blonde haired angel for a moment longer, and then glanced up towards Castiel. The angel's gaze seemed to be imploring him to back down, and he remembered what Cas had said to him earlier. Have some faith in her. Dean still didn't think he could manage that, but for Cas' sake he could try. "Alright," he said gruffly, taking a step back and breaking eye contact with her. She almost seemed to deflate as he backed down, but it was far from a concession. "If we want the same thing right now, then why don't you try being more help to us. Are seriously telling me you spent all that time planning the Wedding and you have no idea how to stop it?"
"That's rather the point," she answered bitterly. "I spent time preparing for all eventualities for the exact reason of ensuring that the Wedding was able to occur. If there are any circumstances that could stop it, chances are I've already prepared for them, and the Party know that. If you want a chance of stopping them, you're gonna have to make it so they're barred from walking on Earth."
"How?" Dean demanded.
She looked irritated. "Why are you asking me that? That's what you have a prophet for!" She gestured emphatically towards Kevin, and Dean only looked more disgruntled.
"Yeah, and he's been a hell of a lot more help than you have."
Before it could descend into an argument again, Kevin quickly interjected. "Look, guys!" he said, holding up his hands to try to calm both of them down. "Does anybody want to hear my idea? Because I think I may have figured something out."
Everyone turned to look at him, both surprised but relieved by that news. "Alright, let's hear it," Sam said.
Kevin turned back to his computer screen. "I'm not saying I've found out anything definite, but it gives us something to go on. I've been going over a seventeenth century text that seems to have been based on the original prophecy, although as far as I can tell there's a lot of added stuff that's complete fiction. However…" – he switched to a different tab on his computer screen – "I contrasted that with some other seventeenth century writings from Queen Elizabeth I's alchemist, Dr John Dee. There's some mention in his records of things relating to the Wedding that aren't in the text by Andreae, but they do seem consistent with what Lydia's told us. Apparently he had a means of communicating with spirits or 'the other side' or something by having his assistant Edward Kelly look into a scrying mirror and relaying what he saw. From his notes, there's several mentions of a 'gatekeeper' of some kind. This has to be related somehow. If we need the Gatekeeper to lock up the angels and demons, I think if we had this mirror we'd be able to find out what we need to know."
Sam leaned further over Kevin's shoulder as he studied the diagrams and notes written in medieval script on the computer screen. Really, he was impressed by how much Kevin had been able to research and deduce in just five days. There was a reason the kid was in advanced placement. "Alright, so first we have to find this mirror then?"
"Actually, already done that," Kevin answered. "With this awesome thing called Google, but that's the part you're not gonna like."
"Why? Where is it?"
Kevin switched tabs again to bring up the page he had open on the mirror of John Dee. "In the British Museum."
Sam raised an eyebrow and then exchanged a glance with Dean, who looked over to Cas. "That's not gonna be a problem, right? I mean, Cas can just…" He trailed off as he saw the look Cas and Lydia were exchanging with each other, both seeming worried. "What? What is it?"
Cas looked over to him. "Dean, we know of this mirror," he answered gravely. "It was forged from obsidian in the Lake of Fire itself. It's an object of pure evil."
"Edward Kelly's soul was damned to Hell for using it," Lydia put in, "I am not about to be complicit in your attempts to do the same."
"You got any better ideas?"
"No, but…" she sighed exasperatedly. "Damning us all is hardly a solution. We may as well hand the Bride over to Mammon if you believe that something Hell-forged can help us."
She was adamant, but the look on Castiel's face showed he had more doubts. "Lydia, Dean's right," Cas said regretfully, and the blonde angel suddenly turned to fix her glare on him instead.
"You can't possibly be considering this?"
"We have little time and few options. This may be the best chance we have."
Her nostrils flared. "Fine," she snarled. "If you believe this is a viable plan, then by all means go ahead, but I want no part of it."
Dean shot her a scowl again. "Great. So are you actually gonna do anything to be helpful?" Her attitude just seemed to be proving his point, although he couldn't help but notice the reproving glance Cas shot at him for his hostility. Dean scowled a little. He didn't trust her, and he couldn't pretend to.
"I will find Michael's squires," Lydia replied indignantly. "Michael was the original intended Groom; I may be able to pry some information from them about what the Party are planning."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, so now you have a plan?"
"It's hardly a good plan, but it's better than yours."
"Well, if you want to get on with that, don't let us stop you."
Her only retaliation was to shoot him a dirty look, before finally seeming to decide she'd had enough of this conversation and promptly vanishing to the flutter of wingbeats.
Cristina blinked. The entire exchange had been a surreal thing to witness, but she didn't think she'd ever get used to watching people vanish like that.
Seeming glad that she was gone, Dean immediately turned his attention back to Cas. "So, uh, you think you could get that mirror for us? The British Museum isn't exactly a place I think we can just stroll into and take it."
Clearly, he hadn't been expecting the response Cas gave. "Dean, I can't," he answered apologetically, "As I already mentioned, that mirror contains the essence of pure Hellfire. If an angel were to touch it, it would immediately burn out their grace."
Dean blinked at him. "Oh, great," he muttered in frustration. "That's just fucking fantastic."
Cristina cleared her throat. She hadn't exactly been following the vast majority of what was said, but she thought she'd picked up the gist towards the end. "So, um, this could just be me misunderstanding literally everything, but are you heading in the direction of planning to rob the British Museum?"
Sam was the one who answered, hardly seeming able to believe the words coming out of his mouth. "Looks like it."
Cristina responded with a mumbled, "Oh my god," at the same time as Kevin said, "Seriously?"
Dean stared aghast at his brother. "Sam, I know we've robbed places before, but there is a hell of a difference between breaking into a small town art gallery and the freaking British Museum."
"Hey, Dean," Sam said with a placating wave of his hands, trying to calm his brother as he thought this through. "We've stopped the end of the world before, so I think we can figure out a way to do this. Unless we can think of something else, like, today, we have to get a hold of that mirror somehow. We just need some help from someone who knows how to hack a security system and is good at evading the law." He reached a hand into his pocket then and fished out his phone, holding it up in front of Dean.
His brother seemed to understand what he meant, even if no-one else in the room did.
Sam unlocked the screen and then started to type something in. "So, um, why don't we see what she says?"
A/N: Okay, long chapter and very exposition heavy I know, but this is the point I wanted to get to. Charlie will show up next time, and yes, I do actually want to have them rob the British Museum. It's the part I've been most excited to write since I started this, and it will mean we finally get to some proper action. The mirror of John Dee is real, and The Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz is a text that exists, but I have taken liberties with the historical details. My plan is to, at some point in the next week or two, actually get to the British Museum and figure out how they're going to do this. It's been a couple of years since I've been, so my memory of the room where the mirror is is slightly hazy. Nothing's set in stone, and even if I don't get to do the trip as planned I will try to update anyway, but I'm hoping I can get some hands-on research done. And for legal reasons, I must clarify, I DO NOT intend to actually rob the British Museum. I just want to come up with an entirely fictional way two hunters could do it if they had the assistance of an angel and a genius computer hacker.