"Death is not the greatest loss in life.
The greatest loss is what dies inside while still alive."
Tupac Shakur
Before sitting down and starting to explain the world I grew in to my bosses, I pulled out my phone and dialed Ash. The call transferred to voicemail and I left a message, irritated.
"It's happening again, only this time it wasn't him who came. The name is Lilith. Call me as soon as you hear this."
I put down the phone to see three curious sets of eyes looking at me.
"Again?" Hotch asked. "Do you mean this happened before?"
"The story is far more complicated than we have time for." I said.
"Summarize it." Strauss ordered and I sighed.
"Remember all the things you were afraid of when you were kids?" I asked. "Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, the monster under the bed? It's all real. And so are Demons. And one of them is after me."
"Which one?" Garcia asked, scared.
"His name is Azazel." I said. "As I was growing up, I knew him as Yellow-Eyes. He's the one who killed my mother."
"Yellow-Eyes?"
"Most demons have black eyes." I explained. "Which are the low-Ranked demons. Some have red eyes which are crossroads demons who make deals."
"Deals?" Hotch asked.
"Whatever you like." I said. "From being famous to bringing back people from the dead. The catch in the deal is what you give in return – your soul. Most people don't even know that in ten years' time, they will die and be sent to Hell." I paused for a moment to let what I said sink in and think about whether I should tell them about Hellhounds. "The third kind is high ranked demons. The color in their eyes is different for each. Azazel has yellow eyes."
"Which kind was this one?" Strauss asked.
"I didn't really get a good look, I can't tell for sure."
"But from what you saw?" She asked.
"I only saw a glimpse of it and it was for less than a second," I said carefully, "but I think they were white eyes."
"And did she really…" Garcia tried to find the right word.
"Possessed me? Yes." I said. "She used me to taunt John, that's why he sent me to Bobby's. He realized how dangerous the life is for a child. Not that it stopped him from taking my brothers with him," I added bitterly, "but what's done is done. I didn't even remember it until now."
"So everything your brothers said, about helping people, saving them," Hotch looked at me, "it was all real?"
"Yes." I said. "And in return, they are wanted by the FBI."
Garcia opened her mouth to ask me a question but my phone rang, interrupting the conversation. I put a finger to say, 'one moment', and answered the call.
"Did you find anything?" I asked, knowing it was Ash without even looking.
"Sam disappeared." Ash replied, as serious as I've only heard him a handful of time before. "Dean just called, he said Yellow-Eyes had plans for him."
"Plans?" Panic started rising in my chest. "What plans?"
"I don't know, but I think it has something to do with – oh, no." Ash paused mid-sentence and I felt like my heart is dropping in my chest.
"Something to do with what?" I asked hysterically.
"Babe, I gotta go." Ash said and I held on to the phone like it was a life-savior. "Keep safe and don't do anything stupid."
"What?" I asked. "Ash!" But he already hung up.
"Was it Ash?" Hotch asked.
"Yes." I replied shortly.
"Is he a…" For the second time in a day, Garcia didn't know what term to use and, again, I helped her.
"Hunter?" I asked, laughing dryly despite the cold feeling in my gut. "The Roadhouse is a bar for hunters. And I need to go there, now." I looked at the phone in my hand. "Something's wrong."
"We'll take the plane." Hotch said and Strauss nodded shortly.
I looked between the two of them before finally settling my eyes on Hotch. "You're not coming." I said.
"I'm not letting you go there with no backup." He replied.
"No offense," I said, "but you don't count as backup. You don't know anything, you'd only get yourself, and me, killed."
"It's a good thing we have a whole plane-ride for you to teach me, then." He smiled, trying to ease the tension in the room. "It's not like you'd sleep or anything."
"I don't like planes." I said, not sure myself if it was defensive in response to his joke or if it was a way out of bringing him along.
"You need to see the logic, Chessi." Garcia said softly. "It will be faster than driving the Motor all the way to the Roadhouse."
"And you haven't slept since the last case we had, so that makes it about 45 hours straight, if I'm correct." Hotch added. "You are in no state to drive on your own."
"Fine." I shrugged, agreeing for the sole reason of not having any more time to spend on arguing. "But when we get there, I'm the boss and you do as I say."
"Agreed." Hotch said before turning to look at Strauss.
"Wheels up in ten."
I looked at the wrecks of the place that was like a home to me during my teenage years.
I was going on about 48 hours with no sleep, and it started to take it's toll on me. My movement were slow and my head ached. And so, when I recognized Ash's body, or at least, what was left of it, the grief seemed delayed.
But when it hit, it felt like a punch straight to my stomach. Only ten times worst, because I knew how to take a punch, but nobody ever tells you how to deal with a loss. I fell on my knees and started crying desperately, the cries of someone who lost more than they could bare, and I felt like I was falling apart.
A hand came around me and pulled me into an embrace I melted into instantly, and it took me a while to understand it was Hotch, because nobody else was miles around us other than the broken Roadhouse and all the bodies within.
He led me to the black SUV and opened the door, and I blacked out.
"Come on, already." Dean and I were standing impatiently at the crossroads, waiting for someone to show up. "Show your face, you bitch!
"Easy, sugar." A woman said, appearing from nowhere. "You'll wake the neighbors."
A demon? A crossroad demon. No, please no. Please, somebody tell me I'm mistaken.
"Dean." She continued, walking towards us. "It is so, so good to see you. I mean it. Look at you. Gone and got your family killed, all alone in the world, it's too sweet. Excuse me," she added, "you're gonna have to give me a moment. Sometimes you got to stop and smell the roses."
"I should send you straight back to hell." Dean growled.
"Oh, you should." The demon said. "But you won't, and I know why."
"Oh, yeah?" Dean asked.
"Yeah." She replied. "Following in daddy's footsteps, you want to make a deal. Little Sammy back from the dead, and - Let me guess, you're offering up your own soul?"
Wait. Is Sam dead? No, Sam can't be dead, he can't. Not… not before I saw him again… before I said goodbye, before I said I'm sorry.
"There are a hundred other demons who'd love to get their hands on it." Dean said. "And it's all yours, all you got to do is bring Sam back, give me 10 years. Ten years, and then you come for me."
"You must be joking." The demon laughed shortly.
"That's the same deal you give everybody else." Dean protested.
"You're not everybody else." She smiled. "Why would I want to give you anything? Just keep your gutter soul. It's too tarnished, anyways."
"Nine years." Dean offered.
"No."
"Eight."
"You keep going," she said, "I'll keep saying no."
"Okay, five years." Dean said desperately. "Five years, and my bill comes due. That's my last offer." His voice trembled. "Five years or no deal."
"Then no deal." The demon replied.
"Fine." Dean said.
"Fine." The demon said, starting to walk away. "Make sure you bury Sam before he starts stinking up the joint."
God, if I could kill her that moment.
"Wait." Dean said.
"It's a fire sale, and everything must go." The demon whispered. I don't think Dean heard her, but I did. I scream, and shout, and try to tell him she's using him, but I can't. It's worse than being possessed.
"What do I have to do?" Dean asked.
"First of all, quit groveling. Needy guys are such a turnoff. Look," she looked really worried for a moment and though I knew Dean thinks she means it, I could see she's lying, "I shouldn't be doing this. I could get in a lot of trouble. But, what can I say? I got a blind spot for you, Dean. You're like a puppy." My heart broke as I thought of Sam's puppy eyes. "You're just too fun to play with." She stopped for a moment. "I'll do it."
"You'll bring him back?" Dean asked.
"I will. And because I'm such a saint, I'll give you one year and one year only. But," she added when she saw Dean opening his mouth to reply, "Here's the thing. If you try to welch or weasel your way out, then the deal is off. Sam drops dead. He's back to rotten meat in no time. So it's a better deal than your dad ever got." She finished. "What do you say?"
Dean looked at her for a moment, thinking about her offer, advantages and disadvantages. But I knew what he would choose. I knew from the instant she said she would bring Sam back. So, I wasn't surprised when he grabbed on to her, and sealed the deal with a kiss.
I woke up and saw myself not in the field next to the Devil's Gate, but on a plane. Nervousness rose in my gut, but died as soon as I noticed the familiarity of the Virginia airport.
"When did we land?" I asked Hotch, who was sitting in front of me.
"A couple of hours ago." He replied. "I tried to wake you but I gave up." I was quiet for a minute or two until he spoke again. "You had nightmares."
"Did I?" I asked, worried what I revealed while in Dean's consciousness.
"You spoke in your sleep." Hotch said. "You said, 'Don't do it,' and called John once." He looked at me, waiting for an explanation.
"Short version?" I asked. "Sam died. Dean sold his soul to bring him back and only got a year. Together, they went to a place called the Devil's Gate where Yellow-Eyes opened a backdoor to hell and a bunch of demons and souls escaped. John came out and held him while Sam shot him with the Colt – the only gun who could kill him. And then…" I remembered the words John told the boys right before he disappeared.
Forgive your sister.
"And then I woke up." I finished.
"That was one heck of a dream." Hotch said.
"They're no ordinary dreams." I replied. "It's live feed from Dean. I live through his eyes."
"Is it normal?" Hotch asked. "For people to have dreams like that?"
"What do you think?" I said instead of answering his question.
He stayed quiet for a while before speaking again.
"Jack." He said. "How am I… how can I raise him in a world like that?"
"There is no right way to raise a child, and knowing about the supernatural doesn't help. But, there is a wrong way, and you can avoid it. Start from learning from the mistakes my father did." I told him. "When your kid tells you he's afraid from the monster in the closet, give him a hug. Not a .45."
"John did that?"
"Sammy was nine." I replied. "Let's go." I push myself up from my seat and stretch my soring legs. "There's probably a serial killer to catch somewhere."
Days went by, case by case, and I couldn't help but notice the changes in atmosphere.
Strauss was avoiding me whenever she could, and even when she couldn't, she wouldn't look me in the eyes. Garcia wanted to know everything I could tell her about the supernatural world, and wouldn't listen to my oaths that she was better off without knowing. And Hotch… I could tell he wanted to ask me a million questions, but he kept them to himself for fear of the answers he might get.
After the hard case involving Frank – the most profiled serial killer – and reaching far too deep into Gideon's life, I walked towards Strauss's office where I know I would find Hotch. I stopped inches from the door, when I realized the topic of the conversation.
"My team?" I heard Hotch ask. "Let me tell you about my team. Agent Morgan fought to protect his identity from the very people who could save him. Why? Because trust has to be earned, and there are very few people he truly trusts."
I dared not breathe because he spoke so calmly and silently I was afraid of missing a word, and though I wasn't keen on eavesdropping, I wondered what I would hear.
"Reid's intellect is a shield which protects him from his emotions and at the moment his shield is under repair."
And it's my fault, for not saving him from Raphael and Charles.
"Prentiss overcompensates because she doesn't yet feel she's a part of the team."
I felt my heart sinking in my chest, but the feeling relaxed when I heard him continue.
"She needn't worry." Hotch said. "Every day, agent Jareau files dozens of requests for our team. And every night she goes home hoping she's made the right choices.
"Garcia fills her office with figurines and color to remind herself to smile as the horror fills her screens.
"You know just as well as me, and possibly better, about the life Chess had, and about how it slowly breaks her. Every day, she tries to call her brothers and uncle and they don't pick up, and she doesn't know why. She thinks we don't notice," He said, and something told me he at least suspected I was at the other end of the door, listening, "but I do.
"And agent Gideon, in many ways, is damned by his profound knowledge of others. Which is why he shares so little of himself, yet he pours his heart into every case we handle.
"I stand by my actions," Hotch finished, "and I stand by my team. And if you think that you can find a better person for the job, good luck."
"Agent Hotchner." I heard Strauss's voice.
"How do I know you favor your son?" Hotch asked, in what I could only assume to be a reference to a different conversation. "I'm good at my job."
I heard footsteps and before I could even think of stepping aside, the door opened and Hotch came out.
"I wanted to invite you for a beer." I said weekly in response to his glare. "I thought you might need it."
"I'd love that," Hotch said, "but I think it would be better if I'd go home to Jack and Hailey."
"I'll walk you to the car." I said, and started walking down by him.
We walked silently, and I thought of Sarah and Rebecca's torn bodies, and something died in me. I've seen werewolves whose victims looked better than that. I thought of Tracy Belle, the young girl who's been through so much already in her short life, and of Jane, who fell in love with a psychopath, and died with him.
"How could he have done this?" I whispered to Hotch. "How could anybody be this cruel?"
"You've dealt with monsters before." Hotch said.
"Not like that." I replied. "The creatures I used to hunt, the creatures my brothers hunt… It's simpler. Black and white. I don't expect them to show humanity because they're not human. You have the victims, you find the monster and you kill it, simple as that. How can somebody become this corrupted and do something like that?"
"You said demons did worse than that." Hotch reflected.
"Demons are souls who were tormented in Hell until no shade of humanity was left." I said. "They were brutally and mercilessly tortured for centuries, to become the shade of a human soul they are. What does a person have to go through to become that while still alive?"
We stood there in silence for a moment before Hotch asked the question I knew was bugging him from the moment Frank jumped in front of the train.
"You said that a hunter's burial is to be burned with salt, so they won't return as spirits." He said. "Can the people we capture…"
"I have a friend." I said. "He knows doctors who work at some ME offices and Death-Rows. The people we hunt, nearly all of them are cremated."
"Nearly?"
"Nobody's perfect." I retorted. "All there is left to do is cross our fingers and hope all will be good."
We reached his car and I turned to walk to Darlin', before changing my mind.
"Hotch?" I asked. "How did you know I'm calling Dean, Sam and Bobby?"
He looked at me with a sad smile, and replied me as he replied Strauss. "I'm good at my job."
"Hello?" Reid knocked on the cabin's window. "Gideon, are you there?"
"Jason?" I called. "What's going on?"
Reid and I went to the cabin Gideon goes to when he needs to be away from the hideousness of our work, after he didn't arrive to work or answer his phone. It was the first time I had ever been there, but from what I was able to guess, it wasn't supposed to look this deserted. I reached for the handle and to my surprise it opened with no trouble. I walked in and gestured for Reid to follow me.
"The table, Chessi," he said when we were both inside, "look at the table."
There, I can see Gideon's badge and gun, next to a letter written in the familiar, neat handwriting. I look at the headline, reading clearly:
To Chessi and Spence.
"It's Bobby." The old voicemail told me. "Don't leave a message."
"Bobby, it's me." I ignored it, knowing he probably stands nearby, listening. "Can you please answer me? Can you… I can't do this alone anymore. Not alone. Jason… Gideon left. He left me a note, Reid and me. I can't read it. I promise I won't try to call Dean and Sam anymore, not if they don't want to talk to me. I promise I won't do anything stupid, just… can you please talk to me?" My voice was choking on tears. "Please? I… I need you, Uncle Bobby, I just need you."
I looked at the clock and saw that my minute is nearly over, and moved to hang up the phone when the cranky voice interrupted me.
"Will you stop calling me uncle?"
A/N: And we've finished 'An Opening Match'! The next part, 'The Moves of the White Knight' will be published only in two weeks because I'm entering a tests period and wont have the time earlier than that...
I wanted to say a big thank you to all of those who:
Review: PreetSalvatore, animagirl, Marksman Queen, MS101, HaruHaruxLove, fanfic1892, SaiyukiLover232 and Lizzy B
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And only because I just love you guys so much... Sneak-Peak!
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Castiel." He replied, leaning in and putting a finger on my forehead.
The pain stopped and when I looked at my arm, I saw the cuts were healed. I stared at him, too tired to be worried, angry or even just curious.
Well, maybe not too tired to be curious.
"What are you?"
Lightening flashed through the windows, showing the out mark of big, black wings on the wall behind him.
"I am an Angel of the Lord."