Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
Author's Note: This is part ten of the series Skies on Fire. Only two chapters left!
Warning: Contains religious themes.
Mary stared at her cousin, wondering if the resurrection had altered his mind in a highly negative way. "What do you mean 'everything we know about the war is a lie'? Demons want to create Hell on Earth and we want to stop them."
John shook his head. "No, it's more complicated than that." He sighed and staggered to his feet. "Look, can we go inside and talk about this? I'd like to rest a little before that bastard shows up again to try and kill me, again."
They carefully picked their way back to the house, Mary and Jessica supporting John up the crumbled steps. The interior did not fare much better than the exterior. Kitchen cabinets hung loosely from the hinges, books and papers littered the floor of the study, and several pieces of furniture, including the desk, couch, and coffee table, were in shambles. John was led to an armchair; everyone else just shifted debris and sat wherever and on whatever they could find.
"Start talking," Mary ordered.
John raised an eyebrow; Jessica scolded, "Mary! Give him a minute!"
Mary rolled her eyes. The entire situation was ridiculous. She just couldn't see what was so complicated about the war, what they didn't understand. She looked at her father. Dean was working his lip. His eyes met Mary's and he gave a small shrug.
"Drink this," Ruby ordered, thrusting a glass of water into her son's shaking hands.
John sipped at the clear liquid, smiling up at his mother. "Thanks." He chugged the remainder of the glass. Setting it down on the floor, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "You're not going to like what I have to say. Hell, I doubt you'll believe me. I wouldn't have believed it either if He hadn't told me." He looked at Mary and Dean. "How much do you honestly know about angels?"
"They're God's warriors and messengers; I'm God's warrior," Mary said. She was very puzzled. Where was John going with this?
"They help people, right?" Dean asked. "They're supposed to be merciful, except for maybe Uriel."
Sam snickered. "Merciful my ass. Are you forgetting how they treat me and Ruby?"
"She's a demon," Dean said automatically. He glanced at Ruby. "No offense."
Ruby shrugged. "Can't change what I am."
"You used to be human," John pointed out. "That's the difference between angels and demons, unless they fell from grace like Anna. Only the original demons didn't start out as humans."
"They began as angels," Jessica gasped. She clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh my God."
Mary's gaze darted from one cousin to the other. "What? What did she just figure out?"
John shifted uncomfortable in his seat before catching Mary's eye. "If the original demons were once angels, and all the other demons were once human, and humans were made in His image, can you explain angelic evolution?"
Dean shook his head in exasperation. "Okay, college-boy over here," he pointed to Sam, "might understand that sentence but I have no idea what the hell you just said."
"He said," Mary began slowly, "we all become demons in the end."
Matthew parked outside the apartment building, waiting for the engine to finish whining and shut off. Isabel had agreed to meet him for him lunch at her place (of which he had conveniently failed to inform Tyler; his roommate was under the impression Matthew and Isabel were meeting at a more public location AKA the campus library). She sounded very excited about discussing the prophetic occurrences and the supernatural war.
The elevator being out of order, Matthew climbed the seven flights to Isabel's one bedroom apartment. Reaching the topmost landing, Matthew gasped for breath, holding onto the wall for dear life. His body was not use to such strenuous activity. Several minutes passed before Matthew's breathing was back to normal. He took one more deep breath and crossed the hallway to Isabel's door.
He knocked; Isabel opened, greeting him with a smile. "Matthew, hi! Come in!"
"Thanks." Matthew crossed the threshold and was suddenly unsure of himself. While he'd spoken to Isabel many times over the phone, he'd never actually met her. She had recently transferred to the same college as her brother. Up until then, she'd been on the other side of the country. Now, alone with his roommate's little sister, Matthew felt his mouth go dry and his palms begin to sweat.
Isabel closed the door and led Matthew into the living area of her apartment. "I'm glad you agreed to meet with me," Isabel said. "Some things are better done in person."
"Your theories really struck a chord. It makes sense, with all the weird things I've read about, that there's some supernatural war going on, one that humans are ignorant about." Matthew sat on the couch Isabel offered; Isabel made no move to sit, but rather stood across from her guest.
"It's not just that humans don't know about the war," Isabel began, "but that they think themselves immune to its consequences."
"You mentioned as much in your text to Tyler. I don't know how I feel about that. I mean, I don't even know if I really believe that there is a war, or even such things as angels and demons. I'm open to the idea, I don't think there's any way I couldn't be, but I'm not one hundred percent on the idea."
Isabel nodded. "I understand. Sometimes people need physical evidence." She crossed to a dresser and began rummaging in the drawers. "But hypothetically, if you were a believer, what do you think about the outcome of the war? If demons win or if the angels win, will humans be affected?"
Matthew sighed, leaning back into the couch and scratching his chin. "I don't know enough about the war to make a solid statement, but I would imagine, yes. However, I'm not a religion major for nothing. I don't think God would allow the demons to win. He would protect humanity."
"Why do you think that?" Isabel asked quietly. Her hands roved over something in the topmost drawer.
"He's supposed to be all-powerful, right? And He created us in His image, so we must mean something to Him, enough for Him to intervene if something truly horrible happened to humanity."
Isabel's hands wrapped around the object she was fondling. "Such lofty hopes," she whispered.
"What was that?" Matthew asked. Isabel was speaking quietly and Matthew wasn't sure what she was saying.
Suddenly, Isabel turned and Matthew found himself flying into the wall behind the couch. Matthew gasped as his head smacked the plaster. Wincing, he struggled to get down but found he was pinned by an invisible force. He could only stare at Isabel, who was slowly making her way across the room, a silver knife glinting in her hand. That's when Matthew noticed her eyes. They were wrong, very wrong. The irises and whites had been replaced by an unidentifiable pearly haze.
"Isabel," Matthew pleaded. He was confused and scared. What the hell was going on?
Isabel grinned. "Sorry sweetheart, Isabel's unavailable." She stood before Matthew, tracing the blade across his chin. "My name's Lilith." Then she gutted him.
Dean worked his mouth, an action that was becoming something of a habit for him. His stomach felt like lead when he realized how much sense his nephew was making. This was wrong, oh so wrong, to believe that humanity's future, the future of the world, could be encompassed in a darkness they themselves possessed.
"No," Ruby croaked, her voice cracking with a dry sob. Sam reached over to rub his beloved's thigh but Ruby jerked away. "No! I've worked too hard fighting what I've becoming, hunting crossroads demons and trying to make sure others don't make my mistake! And now my son, my son, tells me it's for nothing?"
"I never said that," John said quickly. He stared hard at his mother. "You yourself are living proof that demons aren't all stereotypical. That's what screws everything up! That's why the truth has been hidden!"
Mary tightened her fingers in exasperation. "Just... spill it already! What the hell on you on about?"
"Mom's a demon, but she's fought it, right? She's retained much of her humanity, and the longer she's been with Dad the more humanity has rubbed off on her, making her even more identifiable with the human being she once was," John explained. "If humans were to evolve into demons some would fight it and retain some semblance of their humanity. Why? Because God created humans in His image. He gave us so much more than life; He gave us some of Himself. That's power! That's the strength Mom and even some of the other younger demons use to maintain a grasp on humanity."
Now Dean was beginning to get a headache. He stood quickly and, after rummaging around in Bobby's liquor cabinet for a minute, poured himself a shot of whiskey. One down, several more shots to go before he resumed his seat. Throughout Dean's drinking, John continued talking but Dean wasn't listening quite as closely as he had been. Instead, Dean's mind drifted, attempting to sort out the many secrets that had been revealed that night.
Anna was Mary's mother. Anna was also pregnant with the unborn version of their future daughter. And once Mary was actually born, he would never see Anna again. He would be a single-parent. How the hell was he supposed to raise an infant child? Well, he'd pretty much raised Sam, but that was different. He'd been a kid then, too, he'd been stuck at the fleabag motels watching over his baby brother. But with Mary, he was a hunter. He couldn't be a hunter and a father, not when there was no one left to take care of her. And, as much as he loved his father, Dean could never do what John had. He didn't resent John for leaving the boys behind while he was on a hunting trip, but it still hurt not having a parental figure around. Dean could never do that to Mary.
His thoughts shifted from Mary to the war. He took a quick survey around the room. Bobby, Sam, Ruby, Mary, John, Jessica. The people he loved, the people he'd die for, hell, the people he had died for. They were his family, his everything.
Dean downed another shot. He'd lost count how many he'd had. It didn't matter. The alcohol just kept flowing. And flowing. He couldn't get the war out of his head. He kept seeing Castiel, dead. He kept seeing his daughter and her awesome powers, obliterating demons. It was almost enough to break him.
Someone placed a hand on his shoulder; he looked up into Mary's green eyes.
"Dad?" The young woman asked hesitantly. "Everything alright? You look pale."
"Fine," Dean said. He capped the bottle of whiskey.
Mary sighed. "Some things never change."
"What?"
"Uncle Sam always said Jack was one of your best friends. But after you came back from the Pit, he said it got worse then. And I know it never got better, not in my timeline." Mary stared into her father's clouded gaze. "Daddy, I love you, I don't want you to hurt anymore. I know you think this is the only option, but it's not. We're here for you. And I want you to always be there for me."
Mary's voice broke and her whole body began to shake. Dean could have kicked himself. Pulling his daughter into a tight embrace, Dean mentally reprimanded himself for his self-destructive habits. He was hurting the people he loved, the ones he swore to protect. He had to put aside his self-loathing, if only to be the strength his daughter required.
"It'll be okay," Dean soothed. "I'm not going anywhere."
Mary's voice hitched. "Mom is. Castiel told me she'll be punished for her actions. She won't be a part of my life. Not that it matters now."
"Don't talk like that," Dean ordered. He held Mary at arm's length, green eyes boring into their identically matched pair. "We're not going to end up demons."
"You weren't listening to the rest of John's spiel, were you?" Mary smiled bitterly.
Dean had to admit he had stopped listening. Fresh tears welled in Mary's eyes. "It's the angels. They're not so different from the demons to begin with, but the war has altered them in ways they thought weren't even possible. Most of the warriors have gone rouge, not in the sense that they're AWOL but that kill vessels more often than not when exorcising demons. Previously, the angels went to any and all lengths imaginable to save the vessels. Now... now it's all about winning."
"I thought that was the other side's motto," Dean laughed.
"That's the point. Our side is no different from their's. This war now has three sides: the angels, the demons, and our family."
John, who had been listening to the exchange between father and daughter (he had no other amusements at present- Ruby and Jessica were salvaging sandwiches in the kitchen, while Sam and Bobby prepared for a likely demon attack), now spoke up. "Not just our family. There are other demons out there, ones like Mom who still have some connection to their humanity. We can recruit them."