"And I knew that tone, the pleading, the fear that was sitting like a spiked ball in his chest. He'd been left behind too, maybe more than I had." ― Lili St. Crow.
12. It's time.
Date: May 8th, 2009.
Location: Bobby's house, kitchen.
The kitchen was filled with the intermittent buzz of the tattoo gun scouring its way across Charlie's skin. It was night, but the lights and giant flashlight Beth had borrowed from Bobby helped her begin Charlie's new markings.
It also helped to drown out Sam's torment from the basement.
Charlie stared listlessly at Bobby and Dean at the table beside her, not really taking them in. She didn't even care for her modesty while Beth inked her. She was sitting backwards in an old wooden chair, one arm across the back as a chin rest, the other loose at her side. Her tank top was over her head and still on her arms, covering her chest, and for once in her life she was unconcerned with the softness of her belly, or how pale and scarred her skin was. Bobby overcame his embarrassment quickly, especially since she had remained silent from the moment they had entered the house and locked up Sam for his abrupt intervention.
Bobby offered her a drink of whiskey by shaking the bottle at her. Charlie ignored him. He pursed his lips and sighed.
Dean swigged back a finger of alcohol, flicking his gaze between the direction of the basement stairs and Charlie. He jutted his chin at her. "Did you know about this?"
His tone was soft, almost neutral, but she could feel the frisson of anger beneath his calm demeanor. His brother was suffering withdrawal from Demon's blood, and Charlie had no way – or desire – to tell him that she had seen it from the beginning, because Sam had it in him since he was six months old. She also suspected he was referring to her comments after Sam had chewed her out at the car, before Jimmy -
Charlie forced away the memory.
Beth pulled back to refresh the ink. There was no apology in her voice when she spoke, but there was no defensiveness either. Simply truth. "We both knew. I was the first to see him do it with Ruby."
"And when exactly were you going to tell me?"
"I don't know." Beth sighed at his accusing tone, going back to Charlie's shoulder. The rose she had planned for her cousins first tattoo was coming along nicely. She had worked in the same protection ruins Charlie had on the necklaces around her neck, and a fine bit of spell work was wound through the ink, halfway through the tattoos completion. It should be the start of anchoring Charlie to the world during an episode. Beth had insisted after Charlie had let loose with an iron bar over losing Jimmy. "We didn't know how."
"Saying something like, 'Hey, Dean, Sammy's drinking Demon blood,' would have been a good start."
"Dean, don't be an ass," Bobby exasperatingly, throwing back his own drink and pouring another. "I wouldn't have known how, either, so give it a rest. It's done now. We just have to let it happen." He turned to Beth and Charlie. "Tell me what you've been up to. It's been a while."
Beth, when Charlie didn't respond, told Bobby of their continuing search for the Seals. When Dean went to the bathroom, she explained briefly about Charlie going a bit crazy with what happened to Jimmy. When Charlie didn't protest, Beth also told Bobby what they'd been doing about Charlie's supposedly missing piece of soul.
Bobby removed his cap and ran a hand through his hair. "Well shit."
"Yeah."
"I didn't even think that was possible."
"According to Angels, Charlie's sources, and Kieran, it's not."
"And featherhead was going to help?"
"Yeah. Was," Beth said shortly. Charlie flinched at sudden excess pressure on the needle. "Fuck, sorry Charlie."
There was still no sign of Dean, so Bobby sat back in his chair. "Let me get this straight. You've been talkin' to some strangers about Angels and Seals, Pamela sent you off to a nutjob Hunter who thinks you're missing something pretty fuckin' vital, the attacks you've been havin' all your life are about you fadin', and there's no leads at all to help you find out what the hell is going on? The Angels are warnin' you off learning either about them or yourself, and the one Angel who might have believed you and helped you fucked off after a little trip home?"
Charlie looked up with a raised eyebrow. That was pretty much the gist of it.
"Jesus fuckin' Christ in Heaven."
Beth snorted, refreshing her ink again.
A door closed, and Dean returned. Bobby nodded towards Beth's work. "Why are you doing that now?"
"She doesn't have a way of staying grounded, so I was hoping this would help," Beth began. Dean frowned at their conversation, but when they didn't explain, he pursed his lips and remained silent, taking up a proffered glass of whiskey from Bobby. "I'm gonna put some spells with it, and hopefully, as it grows a bit, it might offer some protection if she has an attack."
"How you gonna anchor it?" Bobby mused, tilting his head in genuine interest.
Beth leaned back, swiping the excess ink away to see how it was progressing. She'd been at it for several hours, since they had locked Sam away. The rose was a blood red, blending into a dark blue towards the short, partial stem. Etched into the petals were runes, black and thick. A long, thin, vine-like part of the stem curled up and around to blend with Charlie's anti-possession tattoo to incorporate it. Beth blew out a breath that disturbed her loose bangs. "I have no idea." She shook her head and shrugged. "I'd have to secure a link to something here on our plane, but it'll have to be something living, I'd wager."
He frowned. "Why?"
"Well, an imamate object can be destroyed or moved too quickly. It'll have to be something solid and unchanging, or the link will be too easily broken. We'd have to renew it all the time. I think it'll also have to be strong enough to pull her back, and it would have to have a long lifespan. Plus, Charlie is shit with magic, so I have no idea how well it will take long term."
"So you need somethin' either you can protect and keep with ya, or else something that's solid and unchanging."
"Yeah. Not as easy as you'd think. I thought an inanimate object like a knife, but there's not enough in something like that to be substantially stable. Then I thought of an animal, but too unpredictable, short lived, and hard to transport depending on what it is. I thought of a bird, but that wouldn't be fair."
"It would have to be a person," Bobby mused. He glanced at the handprint branded into Charlie's side, but then looked away with an unreadable expression.
"I think so," Beth agreed, and Charlie saw her cousin turn her head towards Dean out of the corner of her eye. "But again, lifespan in our field of work is not a given, and they'd have to be able to be with her in case she goes too far and needs to be pulled back."
"I have no idea what the hell you're talkin' about, but it sounds complicated and impossible," Dean said, shaking his head.
Charlie glanced at Beth's designs in a little sketch book at the edge of the table. When Beth had first suggested it, it seemed like a good idea, and she wasn't above trying anything at this rate if it kept her stable for what was coming. When the complexity of it showed, though, she'd become more dubious. An animate object, that had a stable enough energy to sustain the connection and anchor her to the plane of Earth without dissipating, wouldn't be easy to find. The constant energy needed the ability to connect to her, be unchanging, and to bring her back at a moments notice.
The only being that had been able to do that so far had been Castiel, but she was unsure about latching on to the tail end of a comet who was on a different path.
A little later, when Rufus called the house, Bobby immediately went to confirm what the older Hunter had come across. More Seals had been broken, most of them in one day.
They were losing.
The impossible task of fighting against such ridiculous odds, Charlie thought, thinking again how strange it was to have so many Seals, only for a fraction to bring on the Apocalypse. If that many monumental Seals can be broken in a day, how can we beat it when even the Angels struggle? There couldn't be many left.
She also thought it peculiar that Ruby had continued to help Sam defeat Demons. Where was she when Sam was weak at Jimmy's house?
When Bobby suggested that maybe Sam was better off fighting for them with what he'd been doing, Charlie finally spoke. Seated on the couch, tattoo finally finished, she said a simple, "Bad idea."
Bobby sighed, gesturing helplessly. "I know you hate me for suggesting it – hell, I hate me for suggesting it, I love that boy like a son – but he could take 'em out. He might even be able to take out Lilith."
Dean didn't respond. Charlie shook her head. "I think it's a bad idea all the same. There's something weird going on here. Don't you feel it? This whole thing is fucking strange."
Bobby sighed. "Saying that over and over isn't gonna make it any clearer, Charlie. Look, all I'm saying is, that maybe he's here instead of on the battlefield because we love him too much."
There was silence for a few minutes. Charlie closed her eyes, and she made a decision. "It'll change him," she said solemnly, working her jaw because this conversation was going to be a bit delicate when it came to truths.
"What does that mean?" Dean asked, turning to watch her. He was already frowning, and she didn't like the sudden air of wary caution. It felt like a little gap, ready to widen despite their camaraderie over the months. This was why she didn't like dealing with people. Everything was always fine for a while, and then Charlie had to say or do something that revealed how different she was and she would go back to being alone.
She licked her lips, glancing at Bobby to see the older man frown in confusion. "I... can see things." Dean opened his mouth, but she forged on ahead before he could get a word out. "Little things... about people. Manifestations of abnormalities in their features. I was born with it." Here she hedged the truth, hoping Bobby would keep quiet. "Kind of like reading a person's aura or something. I've never really had a name for it. I... could see it in Sam... from the beginning. When I first met you. Only, I didn't realise what it was. His situation was unique."
There was a tense silence. "And you didn't say anything?"
Charlie grimaced, picking a loose thread on the arm of the couch. Finally looking up at Dean, she could see his face match his tone. Neutral. Blank. Burning anger underneath. "I can imagine how well that would have gone. Look," she sighed, "I'm telling you this because I can see it in Sam. It's grown since he started drinking Demon blood – but I didn't know the cause until Beth told me about it, before you got out of hospital." She rubbed her hands across her face, suddenly feeling exhausted. She hadn't slept properly since the warehouse, nights plagued by nightmares of Jimmy's little girl living for an eternity with an Angel... She was lucky if she got three hours. "It's getting worse. It's migrating around his body, and his aura is darker, more corrupt than any Humans should be unless..."
"Unless they were drinking Demon blood," Bobby finished.
"Yeah."
"Why the fuck didn't you tell me this before?"
She flinched at Dean's sharp tone. "Because it was private."
"Private?" he asked incredulously. He shook his head, arms rising and falling like he was helpless to explain how idiotic that sounded.
"Yes," Charlie snapped, finally standing to face his ire. "Private. As in, it's none of your fucking business what I can and can't do. I said I'd tell you when I'm ready."
"Oh, that's what that was about?" He nodded, pursing his lips and tensing up. "Well, thanks for letting me know."
"Don't be sour, Dean. I didn't know the best way to handle it, because this scenario never goes well. It was none of your business."
Dean stood straighter, expression turning condescendingly expectant, as if it was his every right to have known. "It's none of my business that you're a freak?"
"Dean!" Bobby's admonishment was harsh, and shocked.
Charlie swallowed, and stopped breathing for a moment before stepping back, forcing her features to remain stoic. He was angry, and had a right to be, but she had a right to her privacy as well.
"No, Bobby. She's been hiding this shit since we met her. Who knows what else?"
"Dean – "
"It's fine Bobby. Leave it. I'm going out for some air." Swallowing the bile rising in her throat, Charlie forced herself to move lest she pass out from exhaustion. She passed Beth coming out of the bathroom on her way out.
Her cousin stopped in the hall, drying her hands on a towel. "Charlie? What happened? What did I miss?"
Charlie shook her head, stepping out into the cold night air. Not for the first time in her life, Charlie wanted to feel it sting her skin.
When Charlie's walk finally exhausted her, she collapsed onto the bed in Bobby's spare room, unconscious as soon as her head hit the pillow. Despite the dead sleep, her dreams remained wholly unpleasant. She never woke, though, not until the sun crept through the old curtains to shine on her face. Unfortunately, she still felt just as tired as the night before. It was times like these that she wished her body would let her sleep more than six and a half hours. She needed it.
Breakfast tasted bland, even when Beth slathered ketchup over her eggs in an effort to cheer her up like she used to as a child. Bobby filled her in on Dean's conversation with Castiel that she'd missed during her walk. Dean had pledged his service to Heaven. Fucking morons. The lot of them.
Bobby was still trying to wrap his head around what Dean had done, when the sudden quiet sent them running down to Sam. An hour later, they were back in the library, Charlie watching Dean agonize over the decisions for his brothers well being. Sam had been in some state. With all respect to Bobby, Charlie privately agreed with Dean 'Mr. Sensitive' Winchester; giving Sam what he 'needed' was a terrible idea.
The rest of the day passed in near silence and tension. Charlie debated leaving altogether. Dean ignored her, Bobby was helpless to fix things, and Beth tried to be as invisible as possible.
The iron was rough on the pads of her fingers. Dean and Bobby tried to speculate what could have let Sam out, but after a few minutes of no answers, Dean got it in his head that it was Ruby, and if it wasn't, that was person he would most likely seek out anyway. Dean left, and Bobby went upstairs with Beth. Charlie stayed a few minutes more, studying the break in the Devil's Traps. There was no way Ruby could have gone near the panic room, and Charlie didn't think the Demon was strong enough to break the inner Trap. Hell, she couldn't have even touched the door...
It was a little too convenient, and, despite Bobby not caring about how, Charlie was concerned. The how of it was the most important. What else can break a Trap and open an iron door without touching it?
Charlie closed her eyes in resignation. Spinning around, she walked swiftly to the basement stairs and ascended to stride out into the scrap yard. She walked until she found a spot far enough away that no one would disturb her, finding a hollowed out car to sit on its wide bumper.
She sighed. "Cas?"
A few minutes of silence followed her soft call.
"I know you can hear me, Castiel. I'm not Dean, so I'm not screaming myself hoarse on the off chance you'll grace me with your presence."
A frisson of energy alerted her to his appearance, the opening in the air so familiar now she almost didn't notice it. He was five feet away, directly in her line of sight, but he didn't say a word. She knew immediately by his silence and countenance that it was he who'd let Sam out. Her initial doubt had been brief, but enough that she wanted to call him on the possibility that he would know who did do it.
Her question of "What happened?" changed to "Why?"
He worked his jaw, looking away to the remnants of another car, before turning back to her. "Orders."
Charlie frowned. "Orders? That doesn't make sense. The Angels wanted Sam to get out?" She looked away, trying to work through a valid reasoning. "But he'd only go and get more blood before –" She stopped, blinking. "They want him to kill Lilith, don't they? Not Dean. Sam. But why? They asked for Dean's loyalty, said that he'd be the one to end it. Why would they let Sam out?" Castiel shifted uncomfortably, unable to meet her eyes. Charlie watched him carefully. "Cas."
"I shouldn't be here."
"But you came anyway." She stood to walk towards him. He stepped back abruptly. She stopped her advance, feeling like she was approaching a skittish animal. "You came back. You didn't have to." When he still couldn't look at her, Charlie felt a growing hope. She spoke slowly, taking the same approach as if she was physically moving towards him. "Whatever they did wasn't enough, was it? You still question it."
His dark gaze flicked up to her. His voice was lower, sharper. "Don't presume."
Charlie shook her head, shifting her weight onto one foot. "What happened to you up there?" she asked softly.
"My path was corrected. I strayed too far." It was an automatic response. Almost programmed. What was worse: he looked like he believed it.
She didn't know what to say, faced with it. There were a few tense moments of silence, and then he vanished.
"It's getting a little heavy in there," Beth said conversationally, slumping back in the driver's seat of her oyster car. She had gotten a friend to drive the damn thing up to Bobby's on his way to a concert. The seats still smelled like weed. Beth was still furious.
The resting purr of the engine drowned out any loud noise from the house, but both Charlie and her cousin knew there was an argument happening. Dean had been ridiculously stubborn about Sam's decision to walk out, and Bobby, being Bobby, would blow his top to set him straight.
Charlie grimaced, folding her arms and leaning on the lip of the driver's side. "It's probably not pretty," she agreed.
Beth sighed and tapped her hands on the wheel, glancing at her cousin. "You sure you want me to go?"
Charlie shook her head. "It's not that I want you to go. I just have a feeling the shit's about to hit the fan, and I want Martha prepared. I need you to get in touch and start planning. I don't know what's going to happen, but I feel like it's not going be good."
Beth nodded in resignation. "Right. Call me soon. I don't want to hear that you've gone and gotten yourself in trouble the minute I leave."
Charlie smirked. "There was a time I'd be saying that to you."
Beth laughed. "Feels weird, doesn't it?"
"That it does." Charlie stood up, tapping the frame of the door. "Go on, before something else happens. Be careful."
"I will." The younger women shifted gears and pulled out of the scrap yard, kicking up a trail of dust. Charlie stuffed her hands into her pockets and decided on a short walk around the yard. It was a habit at this point.
When she returned to the house, Bobby strode out from the kitchen. "Where the hell have you been?"
Charlie froze. He sounded beyond pissed, but underneath it was a strain of something else. She was on alert immediately. "What happened?"
"Dean's gone, that's what happened! Up and vanished right in front of me." He turned sharply and marched back to the library. "He was by the window, and suddenly – " He clicked his thumb and finger together, "Gone."
Charlie walked over to the window, halting suddenly at the sight of a new addition to the living room. "Bobby?"
Bobby was already grabbing a bag and weapons, though Charlie didn't have a clue what he was thinking of doing with them.
"Bobby."
"What?"
"I think Angels took him."
He tensed, hand ceasing the action of stuffing a .22 into one corner of the duffle. "What?"
"Angels took him. There's a rift here, though I've never seen one left behind before."
"A what?" He dropped the bag to walk over to her. "Like what they disappear through? I don't see nothin'."
Charlie pointed to the small tear, only a finger's length in size and equally as wide, hovering about chest height in front of the window. "It's right there. I've never seen one left open before."
"Why would they leave it open?"
Charlie frowned. "I don't know. It might be an accident. I don't know anything about them, other than they're used like superhighways for Angels, maybe Demons, but travel through it is instantaneous. At least, according to Ava it is. My experience felt like a lifetime."
"Maybe it was deliberate."
"Maybe."
There was a silence. Charlie couldn't look away. The tear was colorful, and jagged in shape, but with strange, neat edges. Nothing moved in or out of it; it just looked like a swirling slice of color on another side of a mirror, shining slightly when she moved her hand towards it –
"What the hell you doin', girl?" Bobby growled, grasping her wrist firmly and pulling it away. "I may not see it, but I sure as hell don't think it's a good idea for you to touch it."
"But what if..."
"What? What if they left it open deliberately? Could be a trap for anyone to walk into."
It could be, she thought, but it could also be an invitation. No one but Bobby and her family knew she could see things, but did an Angel know? Does an Angel know that I can see it, possibly use it? Keiran had said to try certain things with her abilities. Maybe this was something she should risk.
"I think I'm going to have to try, Bobby. Dean could be in trouble."
"Yeah, and Dean might not be just yet. He told me what you were like when you grabbed onto Cas back in that damn warehouse. Travelling through that thing messed you up. What help are you going to be on the other side?"
Charlie bit her lip. Bobby was right. It was foolish. It really was. She wanted to step back, she did, but there was something there, something... nudging her in the back of her mind.
'Time to live, little one... Time to go... Look after my brother... It's time... time to test your limits...'
She pulled her hand away from Bobby's grip, fingers reaching up and up, sinking into the void of color on either side of the tear. She pulled it apart and stepped forward, just as the voice urged her onwards. There was a strange smell of something sweet -
The chaos stripped her of her skin.
In the long drawn out wail escaping her throat, she sought a swift death.
The energy swiped away her sight, and it smothered her in a womb of heat that boiled the marrow in her bones.
Focus.
Focus.
What brought her here?
Where was here?
A roar deafened her, threatening to burst her eardrums, but it was a welcome relief from the acid in her veins.
A roar.
A rift.
She was in a rift.
Focus.
An Angel had left it.
Suddenly weightless in the void, the color turned to gray. She could feel the remnants of her soul losing its grip.
Help me.
A resounding roll of thunder forced her to stop in place. Pain flushed over her skin. Something hard on one side. A barrier. She opened her eyes. Suspended in a never-ending expanse of colored cloud and lightning that was bleeding, bleeding into gray. It shifted around her, electricity changing, gentling, caressing her limbs gently, exploring her curiously.
A press against her mind, like a physical hand weighing her skull. There were no words, but she knew something was asking her what she was. Why she was. Slowly, it began to pick her apart, cradling her body, and slicing away every part of her, piece by piece. It didn't hurt, but it felt wrong, intrusive, damning. What would happen when there was nothing left of her?
It sparked a panic, and she jerked away from the touch. It was so unexpected; the thing let her fall... allowed her to slip past the barrier.
Charlie 'landed' without any fanfare. One minute she'd been in that place, the next, lying on her side in a brightly lit room.
Someone was talking.
Charlie tried to move, but her body was too weak. Frustrated, and reeling from her bizarre experience, her throat released a whimper.
The voice stopped, but the sound of footsteps vibrated under her ear. "Charlie? Jesus Christ!"
Dean?
"Charlie, how the fuck did you get here?" He grabbed her shoulders and hauled her up. She listed to one side, before he shoved her back to rest against the wall. She slurred out, what she hoped, sounded like "Tear," but then her brain caught up with her and she realized he wouldn't have a notion about what she was talking about. She groaned when he frowned. "Did an Angel bring you?"
She shook her head. The cream room, and Dean's contrasting dark clothes were beginning to seep away to gray, just like the void. Fuck.
"Shit, are you having another one? Another attack?"
She nodded.
"What do I do?"
Her eyes felt heavy, limbs equally so. There was nothing he could do. Concentrating on articulating her words out of her numb mouth, Charlie said, "Talk... to... me. Tell... me."
Confused at first, he just held her steady by her shoulders. When she made a feeble jut of her chin to the room around them, he understood and told her what was going on as far as he knew. The Angels were keeping him prisoner until the 'right time', whatever that meant. There was only one Seal left to break, and Sam hadn't made any contact, even though Dean had left a message to apologize. The Angels had sealed him in the room. Even Castiel was keeping him here, though Dean suspected that the Angel knew more than he was letting on, but was restricted by the likes of Zachariah from telling Dean what it was.
The room was getting darker now. Charlie could feel herself slipping further down. Her mind was sluggishly trying to connect everything Dean was telling her. On the verge of passing out, Charlie startled with the sharp sting of Dean slapping her face. He grimaced. "Sorry. I was losing you."
She nodded. "S'ok." It helped a bit. Much like what Martha and Beth used to do.
He sighed. "I'm gonna try and get us outta here. Stay with me, alright? Don't go down the rabbit hole."
Charlie's eyebrows raised in surprise. That was... quite an accurate description. She had never thought of it that way. He stood, grabbing the first heavy thing nearby – some sort of base stand decoration thing – and began hurling it at the wall as hard as he could like a baseball bat. It took four magical repairs of the wall for Dean to step back in defeat. "Son of a bitch."
Charlie drifted in and out of focus a few times, only peripherally aware of Zechariah's arrival. She'd never met the Angel, but he looked like a dick. His vessel looked like a dick, and his changing form underneath looked like a dick; she counted four faces, three of animal origin, and one almost like a man, only the features were distorted in a vicious parody of a solid shape. They shifted like a swirling vortex of cloud and energy, swimming into view whenever he moved. His wings were a vibrant crimson, layered in threes. The primary set in the middle layer were darker, the other two vanishing and reappearing like an after image effect, or overlapping strobe. And they were messy; feathers sticking out in various directions, rough and slightly dull. Unpolished silver, Charlie thought.
He was a Seraph. Had to be.
Charlie suspected the visage was supposed to be frightening, but she was slipping further away, the fear fading easily in the face of this beings arrogance.
He began a 'reluctant' spiel of how the Angels wanted the Apocalypse to happen. Charlie thought they were idiots. Why let it happen? Humans wouldn't stand a chance, and the Angels had already lost so many brothers and sisters. Why sacrifice more in a war they can prevent now? He went on to explain that they still needed Dean to stop Lucifer once he rose up from Hell. There was something important there, she was sure, something she'd been thinking about before about weapons, but her mind let it go before she could get a hold of it.
Her skin began to shiver despite the warmth in the room. It was getting hard to concentrate, and sounds were sinking lower and lower. A distant thought crept up: she knew it had been suspicious that only a fraction of Seals were to be broken. What a fuck up, and they'd all played right into it.
He had just finished telling Dean the truth when he spotted her. His forehead creased in confusion. Curling his lip, he asked, "Who are you?"
"Magic... fairy," was the only thing to pop out of her mouth. Not much longer now and she'd lose coherency altogether.
He scowled. "Funny. Who are you, and how did you get in here?"
She took a deep breath to fortify herself. For God's sake, she was slumped against the wall, entirely helpless against this jackass. "I'm nobody, and ...none of your business."
"There's no way you could have gotten in here."
"I think you've turned him into a parrot," Dean commented, raising a challenging eyebrow at the Angel.
Zachariah narrowed his eyes at Dean but marched forward to crouch in front of her. Tilting his head, he studied her pensively. "It's impossible." She didn't react when his hands shot out, lifting her easily by a fisted hand wrapped in her clothes to dangle from his grip, the toes of her boots not even able to brush the floor. "I think it's time for you to leave."
All she could think of was a vehement, No.
Zachariah shook her when nothing happened. "What is this? What's going on?"
Charlie, stuck having her gaze fixed on the crude creature before her, could only watch the frustration grow on his changing faces. The lion bared its teeth, before her vision darkened again, forcing her mind to try and block the confusing countenance. Faced with his vessels scowling features now, she smiled when he shook her again, sending up sparks of energy through her bones that grounded her for a brief moment.
"What's happening? Why can't I send you away?"
She snorted. "Performance problems?"
A lightning strike of power cracked against her skin. She cried out reflexively. He dropped her with a snarl. Sniffing and fixing his lapels, he gritted his teeth and smoothed his expression. "Fine. I'll be back when I find out how you got here, and what to do about you. Enjoy your stay."
Charlie groaned, Dean helping her back into a corner for support. "You ok?"
She shook her head, before her face crumpled and she giggled. "Performance issues."
"Charlie?"
"Limp ...dick," she enunciated slowly. "Asshole."
"Yeah, he is. I'm startin' to lose you again."
She blinked slowly. Why was there a man holding her? Deliberately obtuse scenario... del... Dee... Dean. Dean. This was Dean. "Deee," she moaned, trying to focus on his face.
"Shit."
"Need... to get out."
He looked mad, and sad. She giggled. That rhymed. "I know, Charlie. I know. I just don't know how."
He stood up and took out a little black rectangle. Phone. It was a phone. Phones are used to contact people. People like Dean. And Bo... Bobby! And Sam. Sam too. Sam was important. Why was Sam important?
Demons! Something to do with Demons. Why Demons? Demons and Angels. Fighting. Focus, Charlie. C'mon.
She looked away from Dee pacing with the little rectangle. A flash and there was someone there. Familiar. He had wings. Dark, but sad, droopy wings. So much weight dragging them down. "Pretty," she murmured. Dee turned to talk to the pretty Angel. A low buzzing made her frown, unable to pick out what they were talking about without a massive amount of effort. Something about Destiny. Who was Destiny? And why were they shouting?
"What is worth saving?" one of them growled.
She closed her eyes, and scrunched up her face, a low keening whine erupting from her throat, beginning low and getting louder when they continued to argue. Stop. Stop. Stop. Please. Stop.
There was a sudden silence. "Charlie?"
At the sound of the voice, Charlie clamped her mouth shut, opening her eyes to find the Angel man looking at her. She didn't understand the expression on his face. He moved towards her, but the man... D... Dee, blocked his path.
"You don't touch her. If you see this through, there's no point. Let her fade."
Charlie didn't understand why he said that. Fade. Fade. I'm fading.
Dee began arguing again, and the Angel man finally left. No. No, where was he going?
"He can't help, Charlie," D snapped, pacing to the other end of the room. "He's a lost cause. Just like we all are, apparently."
Lost cause. Lost. Fade. No more. She understood that part. She accepted that part. That was fine. Closing her eyes, Charlie began to let go. Lost cause. She'd heard it before. Lost. Lost forever...
"Oh shit. Charlie. Charlie!"
She screamed at the searing heat on her temples, back arching painfully. "Come back. Now."
Choking, Charlie gripped the hands on either side of her face, eyes flying open to see Castiel's an inch from her own. He released her abruptly, and she could feel herself fading fast once more. It wasn't enough. "We don't have much time. I've brought her back from the edge, but I don't know how long it will last."
"Get us outta here, Cas."
The Angel nodded, grabbing Charlie's shoulder and Dean's arm, and they were going through that horrible place again. Castiel must have known, for it was nowhere near as long a journey like before, and she was still sane enough to collapse to the floor without passing out. She stayed there while they explained what was going on to Chuck. Oh. They were in Chuck's house.
She heard it before they did; a shrill, furious roar that threatened to burst her eardrums. The foundations of the house shook like it was in the middle of an earthquake. A divine light shone through every available crevice. Charlie covered her ears, looking up to through squinted eyes to see Cas send Dean away.
The next few minutes would be a blur when Charlie tried to recollect what happened. She remembered Castiel sending Chuck to the other side of the room out of danger. She remembered Castiel changing his stance to be battle ready; bent forward, arms outstretched with hands clenched, and wings spread full for balance and defence. He roared at the incoming figure of electric light. She remembered feeling this terrible dread when the being showed its form, towering over Castiel's vessel in its shifting glory. Her friend would lose. He would die. And there was nothing she could do.
A blinding light. The after image of Castiel's form burning away, wings on fire and disintegrating, was fixed into her mind for all eternity. Castiel's vessel was destroyed, ripped apart to decorate Chuck's walls. Castiel's true form, now freed, took the brunt of the continuing force the Archangel pushed towards him. He shrank inwards for a hairsbreadth of a second, before a shockwave blasted outwards, striking her dead center. Charlie gasped, knowing this would destroy her utterly. Her soul couldn't survive this. Castiel's energy seared across her skin, and without thinking, she latched on with whatever survival instinct she had left.
With a sudden focus during his death, Castiel wrapped himself around her automatically, and then she was wrenched away to -