As soon as Jody's pickup that was full to the brim with bags of ice cubes rolled onto Singer's yard, Bobby and Dean grabbed their duffel bags, coils of fern rope and fire blankets. They had Castiel transport them to the guarded parking lot, where Impala had been waiting for three days. Dean had been insisting he preferred to drive to their destination than just pop up - as he said - naked. Admittedly Bobby had no idea why a car could help with the hunt, but he was too exasperated to engage in futile cross talk with his foster son.
The drive from the town to that parking lot by the road took nearly an hour. It would have taken longer if Singer and Castiel didn't manage to talk Dean out of taking a trip to a car wash. Yes, three days of brimming in the merciless southern sun did leave Baby in a terrible state. Yes, driving something like this was bringing Dean shame. No, washing a car could not be more important than saving the lives of three people. No, Baby did not have a heart that could break if she thought that her daddy didn't love her anymore. Dean yielded to this argumentation and agreed to drive a car that changed its color from black to brown thanks to the fine, russet dessert dust.
They arrived at the parking half an hour early, intending to use the time they had to find good positions and prepare traps. At least they thought they had time. There was one thing they hadn't foreseen. Apparently, the poludnitsa could show herself to seduce men only at noon. Following those who were already on her leash did not seem to have a time limit.
Dean was petrified. This time poludnitsa did not resemble a mixture of Dean's sexual fantasies with his... well...
A quick glance to Cas was enough for the hunter to make sure that the angel saw the same.
A skeleton floated among the golden fields; shreds of gray, dry flesh were still stuck to the yellowish bones. The whole figure was mantled by a translucent dress made of dirty gossamer; her head was crowned with a wreath of withered poppy, cornflowers and corn cockles. Braids made of faded straw cascaded onto her grayed collarbones and ribs, where they met a rattling necklace made of field-mouse skulls. This grim march was accompanied by a spinny buzz that picked up every second. Grain spikes quivered where she stood; the harsh rustle nearly drowned out the same sinister whisper Dean had heard earlier, when they met the poludnitsa for the first time. This time he was able to recognize single words.
Woe is me!
Where are you, my beloved?
Is it you? Have you found me?
"Guys, what's wrong?" Bobby darted at Dean and Cas, visibly agitated.
"What do you mean what's wrong?" Dean frowned "Wait, you can't see her, right?"
Singer was already reaching to his baseball cap, but Winchester violently grabbed his hand.
"Don't you dare!" he growled "What if we don't gank her today? You're waiting by the car. We can handle her, right, Cas?"
Castiel nodded halfheartedly. He seemed to be cogitative, focused on his own body, feeling it, readjusting to his vessel, as if he was trying to assess if he was strong enough to defeat whatever he was facing. Dean wondered if - since a Seraph was obviously frightened - he should be afraid too.
Finally, the angel moved his foot over the curb encompassing the parking lot. The moment his heel touched the dried, fissured ground covered in dried last year's spikes, gale picked up.
Lady Midday vanished in a flurry of dust, husks and gravel. Through this gray, turbulent curl Dean could see something large and dark, but before he could recognize the shape, the monster swept through the fields. Aided by the sharp wind she managed to haul the angel for a few hundred yards before the bank of swirling air was cut through with a silver glint. The dust set. Dean saw the woman and Castiel spring apart; the angel was reaching to her forehead to smite her...
...when Bobby's timer chimed, indicating that the Sun was at its zenith over that God forsaken parking.
Castiel dropped limply onto the ground; the poludnitsa dove into the sea of golden spikes and they both vanished from Dean's sight. The man broke into run.
Despite the distance he could hear the same vicious, melodious whisper inside his head. Now he understood every word.
"My beloved, you have found me. At last we can weave our fates together. I rejoice, for you will stay with me forever. You, who have no soul. No reaper will come tear you from my arms."
"If I stay, will you spare the others?" Dean recognized Castiel's voice, though it was distorted by a soft, dreamy hum,
"Yes!" the poludnitsa laughed huskily "I want no other. You are the one I love. But what is it that I see? Alas, you are married to another. Fear not, my love. My heart belongs to you. Soon, you will be free."
"Don't you dare touch him, you..." Castiel's growl was followed by a set of Enochian obscenities.
"Fear not, my love. I am here to liberate you..."
Dean was a few yards away from the place where the goddess and the angel fell down. She saw the woman straddle Cas's lap, lean down to bring her face close to his and card her gray, bony fingers through his hair. Suddenly, she jerked back and rose her head, listening intently. Dean stopped short when he met the piercing gaze of yellowish sparks smoldering in her empty eye sockets.
"Is it him? My beloved, I will fend him off. You will be free to offer me your hand. Nothing will ever tear us..."
Castiel gripped her neck and forced her to look at him, dragging her closer. Dean didn't have to tune in with the whisper in his head; he could really hear Castiel's voice, strangled with pain and effort:
"Leave him alone! I renounce him, do you hear me? I will stay with you. Marry me. I will..."
"Renounce my ass, you sonofabitch!" Dean roared, breaking into run again "Fuck off, you bitch! He's mine!"
The hunter sprung out at her; they tumbled on withered barley together. Despite her look, the woman was heavy and hard like a stone state. Her touch burned like red hot iron. Dean didn't even notice crimson streaks of scalds and lacerations on his arms. He fought like a rabid dog, trying to loop at least one coil of the fern rope around the woman. He was close to success when he felt incandescent fingers tighten around his neck. Blinding pain burst in his head; everything went dark. With the remnants of consciousness he felt an irresistible force drag him away from the monster and throw him back. The pain was gone. Dean rolled over and propped up on his elbows to see...
... he couldn't find words to describe the sight. Simmering with all the shades of silver, from blazing white to velvety black so dark that it seemed that the light didn't even touch it, enormous wings glistened in the sunlight. The hunter was awestruck. He could admire them for a moment, when stiff, arm-long flights vibrated, cutting through turbulent air. Then, Castiel folded the wings, wrapping them around himself and Lady Midday. From the shivering of mighty muscles Dean could tell that Castiel still fought a ferocious fight. Suddenly everything went still. The ground quaked, the air was ripped with a thunder. The angel flapped his wings once more, then he fell back.
The poludnitsa was gone. Winchester had no doubt. Low, steely clouds crept onto the sky. The temperature was dropping at an unnaturally rapid rate. Dean paid no attention - all he could focus on was a broad shape of wings, pressed into the even carpet of brittle barley. Heaving for breath and fighting the bitter knot forming in his throat, he crawled closer, praying with all his might that he wouldn't see outlines of feathers seared into the crumpled, flaxen blades.