A Crow with a Rose
Chapter Fourteen
The days passed slowly and there was no sign of Sam waking up.
Not much said, even with the three hunters in the house. All of them seemed to be running on some sort of autopilot. They would eat, drink, research, sleep, and then start again the next day. Well, Rose would try to sleep as much as she could but that was becoming more of a sad joke, more so than usual. Her nightmares were only fueled by the tragedy of losing Crowley, the ache still raw in her heart, and now her mind was playing on her worry for Sam. The terrorizing visions mocked her with the possibility that Sam was trapped inside his own mind, suffering an entirely unknown hell on his own because they asked Death to force his tortured soul back into his body.
Needless to say, she woke up feeling more tired than when she fell asleep in the first place. Not for the first time, she quietly shuffled down to the basement and toward the panic room where she knew the door was going to be open. She could see Dean's figure half slumped forward in the chair stationed at his brother's bedside. His head was hanging down as he was partially propped up by his elbows on his knees. Sympathy tore at her heart as she made her way over to the older brother and very gently placed her hand on his shoulder. He started at her touch but she quickly assured him, her voice a whisper due to the late hour.
"Hey, hey, it's just me…" His hair was mussed at odd angles and she could clearly see where he had run his fingers through multiple times in worry. She softly brushed some of his hair back with her fingers. "You should get some rest."
"…'m fine…" he mumbled. She could see the telltale signs of shadows forming under his eyes and she gave his back a tap, a little cue to tell him to get up.
"Yeah, well, you don't look fine," she teased. "Go lay down for a bit, I'll take the next watch."
Dean didn't look away from Sam's still body, his want to stay by his brother practically tangible and she rubbed his shoulder again. She knew exactly how he was feeling; the exhausting tug-of-war between his body's need for sleep and his mind's want to stay alert so to be ready at a moment's notice, just in case he woke up. The helplessness that drowned out everything else.
"I'll tell you as soon as anything happens. I promise," she told him, "but you need some sleep too, Dean. Being dead on your feet doesn't do anyone any good."
"You're…dead on your feet," he half-argued. She smirked at his attempt.
"Yes, well, it's a good look on me apparently. C'mon now, up you get."
Begrudgingly, Dean did as she said and got to his feet, stretching out his back. He didn't say anything as he spared his brother one more look. On his way out of the panic room, he gave her shoulder a quick squeeze before leaving the room, his footsteps slow on the stairs. Stretching one more time as well, she pulled up the chair and settled in for the rest of the night.
It had been a little over ten years since she had last been in such a position, sitting at a loved one's bedside. She thought after making the deal she wouldn't have to go through that pain again, but here she was, like she had never left. She remembered it like it was yesterday, sitting in the hospital next to her little sister's bed, feeling every emotion tear through her. Hatred of the sterile hospital and the stupid scents it carried, frustration at the doctors and science in general for not being able to have a cure, agony at the sight of her little sister in pain, and, worst of all, helplessness that she couldn't do a goddamn thing to stop it. What was the point of her being a big sister if she couldn't take the pain away? Why couldn't it have been her? Why wasn't there some way for her to take the pain instead? Why would something so bad happen to someone so good?
Rose had to take a deep breath through her nose at the rush of painful nostalgia, blinking back a sudden dampness. She hadn't expected that to hit her so hard, decade aged emotions. She looked at Sam and gave a sad sort of smile. It was a different set up but the scene was the same, she figured, waiting for someone to wake up. This was the position she hated most, being the one waiting. Patience was not really her virtue of choice when it came to people she cared about and their well-being.
Reaching out, she carefully took Sam's hand and placed her own over his, two fingers resting on the pulse point on the inside of his wrist. Just like with Grace, she wasn't going to leave anything to chance and took note of the rhythm. Steady.
An idea came to mind and she gave a little laugh.
"Heh…Dean would say this too girly or a chick thing," she began, "but I…I used to do this for Grace, back when…when she was really sick…I know it's cheesy, but until you wake up and tell me otherwise, this is the game plan…"
Checking one more time that no one else was in the basement, she took a breath. She could only imagine Dean teasing her relentlessly if he heard. Taking care to keep her voice soft, she sang,
"Somewhere over the rainbow…way up high…"
The rest of the night passed with a quiet melody of sorts, Rose singing whatever song or lyric that came into her head. Maybe somehow he could hear her and just maybe, she could help him find his way back…
Another day passed and Dean couldn't wait any longer and he prayed for Castiel. It was a little funny, she thought, that the prayer could be said in any context. For instance, she never thought that "Cas, get your feathery ass down here!" would be an effective way of getting an angels attention. It was certainly refreshing from the strict formalities she was taught as a student.
Her amusement died down when Dean came back into the study alone. Both she and Bobby sighed, setting aside the articles they had been going over.
"No dice?" she dared to ask.
"Zip." Dean pulled another chair up to join her at Bobby's desk. The older hunter pushed an empty glass toward him, grabbing a bottle of whiskey he kept at his desk. His own was already filled.
"Like my daddy always said, "Just 'cause it kills your liver don't mean it ain't medicine,"" quoted Bobby.
"I'll go get another glass," Rose volunteered. She could sense the vibe a mile off and excused herself to the kitchen so to allowed the two a little privacy.
Doing her best to take her time and not rush back into the study, she busied herself by going over the potential case they were researching. A couple had gone up in a light plane and came down in a crash during a huge storm. At a glance it looked like a tragic accident but the facts that stood out to them as a potential job was that while the plane crashed, the guy who was piloting was found burned to death seventeen miles away while the girl had yet to be found at all. Not even when the searching range was increased to seventeen miles to match where the boy was discovered. That put in the hunter range of weird.
She grabbed the extra glass from the cupboard and noticed that the two had stopped talking, their voices vanishing abruptly. Setting down the glass on the table, she hurried to the doorway and came to a sharp halt. Her heart pounded within her chest as she looked at the unfolding scene and she gripped the edge of the door frame, unable to keep from shying behind it.
Sam.
The youngest Winchester tentatively stepped into the study, his voice unsure. Dean and Bobby had gone still in disbelief at the sight of him as well.
"Dean?"
"Sam? Are you—" Dean was hardly out of his chair before Sam was across the room and hugging him tightly, his hands clapping loudly against his back.
After a good moment, he pulled back and looked to Bobby, a grin slowly overtaking his features. Neither hunter could say anything as Sam made his way over and hugged him too, Bobby giving a small grunt from the force. He and Dean shared a look of surprise.
"Good to see you," he managed.
"Wait," he stammered, pulling back. "I saw—I felt Lucifer snap your neck…?"
"Well, Cas kind of—"
"Cas is alive?"
"Yeah, Cas is fine," assured Dean, stepping closer. "Sam, are you okay?"
Still partially hidden, Rose covered her mouth in shock at seeing Sam awake. The vigor at which he hugged his brother and Bobby made her chest tight with emotion and her eyes dared to water. He was okay. Oh god, he was really okay. Relief and guilt crashed into her like a wave. Relief that the wall Death put up seemed to be working, judging from his reaction to seeing Bobby.
"Yeah, yeah…Wait—" He suddenly looked between the two of them, his smile dropping. "Wait, what—what about Rose? Last thing I remember, I—Lucifer was—"
Bobby gave a nod toward the kitchen and Rose flinched as Sam turned around to look at her. Her mind was blank as she stared back at him. How would he react to seeing her? If he was only just now learning that Bobby was alive, that meant the entire year they spent together training and hunting was forgotten, right? Was she essentially a stranger again? They had really only spent a couple of days together, a week at most—
Sam was before her in an instant and she found herself crushed in an embrace, his arms holding her tight to him. Ignoring her doubts, she threw her arms around him as well, burying her face in his chest. His voice was shaky as he whispered to her, being sure to keep his voice just above a whisper.
"You're alive…!"
Tears stung her eyes again and she poured all of her strength into the hug, unable to work her voice. Her actions would have to speak for now.
Dean cleared his throat after a moment, making the two break apart.
"So, you're feelin' all right?"
"Actually…" answered Sam, his brows coming together, "I'm starving."
Giving a watery chuckle that half-turned into a snort, Rose gave Sam's arm a pat.
"I'll fix you up something."
Since it had been awhile since the last time they ran to the store for groceries, she was really only able to scrounge up enough stuff for a couple of sandwiches. The way Sam scarfed down the food said more to the degree of his hunger rather than the skill of the chef, but she took it as a compliment regardless.
"So, Sam," started Dean.
He looked up from his food. "Yeah?"
"What's the last thing you remember?"
She and Bobby shared a worried glance as Sam seemed to try and think back.
"The field, and then I fell," he answered before taking another bite.
Dean nodded. "Okay, and then?"
"Um, I woke up in the panic room."
"That's it?" asked Bobby. "You really don't remember—?"
"Let's be glad," interrupted Dean quickly. "Who wants to remember all that hell?"
Rose's lips formed a tight line, unsure. Was he saying that they were to just ignore everything that happened in between?
Sam looked at all of them, confused. "Well, how long was I gone?"
"A year and half," Rose answered. She returned Dean's look with a quick one of her own. She wasn't about to lie, especially for something so simple as the date. They could argue specifics later.
Sam did a double take at her words.
"Wh-what? I was downstairs—?" His eyes flickered back and forth. "I don't remember anything…s-so how'd I get back? Was it Cas?"
"Not quite…" she answered slowly. He followed her gaze to his brother and his expression grew serious.
"Dean, what did you do?"
He wet his lips before he spoke up. "Me and Death—"
"Death? The Horseman?" he interjected sharply.
"I had leverage," he promised. "It's done."
"You sure?"
"It's over. Slate's wiped."
It didn't go unnoticed by her that Bobby rolled his eyes at that last statement. Clearly, their last encounter with Sam was still heavy on his mind, not that she could blame him. The boy had tried to kill him to enact a spell that would lock his soul out of his body. Her wrists were still wrapped from the ropes that dug deeply into her skin as she struggled vehemently against the restraints, her skin bruised and irritated.
"Well, isn't this just neat and clean?"
"Yes, it is, for once," returned Dean a bit too sharply. Sam seemed to glance from the two then to Rose in a silent question. She met his gaze but kept her mouth shut, not trusting herself to answer.
"Is there anything else I should know?" he asked slowly.
"No," said Dean. He gestured to his empty bottle. "Another beer?"
"Uh, yeah. Thanks."
Honestly, she didn't know why she was surprised when Sam pulled her aside the next day. He wasn't dumb, he knew something was off. She was brought to a halt just as she entered the study.
"Hey, Rose, can I talk to you for a second?"
"Yeah, 'course," she answered. "What's up, Sam?"
He gave a nod of his head toward the door. "Why don't we go for a walk?"
"Sure thing," she answered evenly. Her heart couldn't help put skip in worry and she tried to ignore the small blip of fear that appeared. He wasn't the same Sam from before, he wasn't going to hurt her, she had to remind herself. As if in disagreement, her wrists gave a dull ache.
Sam led the way outside and they started an easy path around the edge of the salvage yard. It didn't escape her notice that there was plenty of space between them and Bobby and Dean, who were both in the garage. If anything went south, she had a hell of a scream.
She gave her head a little shake, she shouldn't be having those kinds of thoughts. This was Sam, the real Sam, he wasn't going to hurt her.
"Listen…" Sam started but he stopped himself. Running his hand through his hair, he tried again. "I mean, Rose…I just—I just wanted to apologize…"
She looked up at him in confusion. "Apologize? What for?"
They came to a stop and Sam turned to face her fully. She couldn't help but notice that they were beside the vehicle where she waited for the Hellhounds. Over a year ago, she was sitting on the hood of the old car reciting every prayer she knew in preparation of her impeding death. The same rosary was still in her pocket actually, the red beads that were faded with age. In the back of her mind she wondered if she kept that particular rosary because the color reminded her of Crowley and his true form. With her mangled contract, she could see the crimson overlaying his form and for some reason that didn't scare her. Well, it didn't matter anymore, did it? Crowley was gone…
"Rose, I just—I just want to tell you how sorry I am," apologized Sam. She quickly pulled her attention back to the situation at hand.
"What do have to be sorry for?" she asked "You just got here, you haven't done anything."
"I mean, before I fell—when Lucifer was in control…"
Sam couldn't help but feel guilty as he looked down at the girl. Right now she looked perfectly fine but his most recent memory was of the showdown between the hunters and Lucifer. He felt Cas turn to a pulp, Bobby's neck snap, and he began to fight his own brother, sending him to the ground with a single hit. Next, Rose had charged toward him and instead of using any sort of weapon, she threw her arms around him in a hug instead. He felt Lucifer's humor at the attempt to stop him and he grabbed her tightly, lifting her off the ground.
He remembered the sound of her body hitting the hood of the Impala, the metal crunching due to his force. His own voice rang in his ears as he laughed at her efforts, telling her that she was nothing more than cannon fodder. Lucifer didn't grant her any reprieve, sinking his fists into her body. Instead of begging for him to stop, she had choked out,
"I…st—ill…p…promise…"
This girl who was dragged into their mess and Armageddon, who didn't owe them a damn thing, was still reminding him of the promise she made to get him out of Hell. She was reassuring him.
He had been screaming in his own head for the fallen angel to stop killing his loved ones but his efforts only made him laugh. He could do nothing as Lucifer bloodied Rose, breaking her body, her skin split, bones snapping from his strength. It didn't take much time for him to see the life slip away from her, blue eyes blankly staring out into nothingness.
He killed her. She had died by his own hands—
"Sam?"
He was pulled out of his recollection when Rose carefully placed a hand on his arm. Blue eyes were focused on him, not blank like he last saw. He couldn't seem to help himself as he pulled her to him tightly, bowing his head. He was so unbelievably relieved that she was alive again. Everything seemed to be back in its rightful place.
"Sam, I know it wasn't you," she explained gently, returning the hug. "Trust me, I know that this is you now…"
He could've sworn her voice trembled but when they pulled apart she gave him a small smile. Maybe he had imagined it?
"C'mon, let's go see what Dean and Bobby are up to."
They seemed to have excellent timing as they made their way around to the front of the garage to see Dean and Bobby loading up the Impala. As they approached they were able to catch the last snippets of their conversation.
"Sam still asleep?"
"Yeah, let him rest. We'll call him later."
Sam took the chance to speak up. "Call me from where?"
They turned to see the two approaching, Dean answering after a beat. "Uh, there's this thing in Oregon."
"Great. I'm in," Sam agreed immediately.
"Whoa, whoa," eased Dean. "You just got vertical."
"Exactly," he said. "I'm up. I'm good."
"A few days of crap cable couldn't hurt."
Sam gave a laugh. "Right, because when you got back from Hell that's what you did."
Apparently that hit a mark and Dean turned to the girl for assistance.
"What do you think, Red?"
She gave him a grin, her eyes mischievous. "Hey, if Sam's going, I'm going."
"Not helpful."
"You didn't ask me to be helpful, you asked what I thought," she corrected with a shrug. "Besides, isn't it better to go together anyway?"
"All right. Looks like it's the four of us," said Dean. Although he wanted Sam to rest, Rose could see the relief at the idea of everyone staying as a team.
"You three go on ahead," said Bobby, passing one of the bags to Dean. "You got this covered. I, uh, forgot I promised that idjit Rufus I'd work the phones for him, so…"
The line seemed forced and Rose felt a little bad. If she had to guess, he didn't want to be too close to Sam just yet.
"You sure?" asked Dean. Judging by his expression, he caught on too.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said. "You three enjoy catching up, okay?"
He made his way back inside, leaving the three alone. Sam looked to Dean in confusion, noticing the behavior as well.
"What was that?"
Dean sighed. "One part age, three parts liquor."
So besides the airplane crash, there were two other disappearances from the same town that week. One college girl suddenly vanished from her apartment on the seventeenth floor last weekend, and just three days ago another girl didn't make it home from school. No relation among the girls; no age, social circle, or school in common. The victims were just young and female, no other physical characteristic to draw them together.
Their first stop was to see the sister of the plane crash victim.
"You're Penny Dessertine's sister, right?" asked Dean. He was taking point as the three of them were dressed in their FBI attire.
The girl nodded, her exhaustion evident.
"We'd just like to ask you a few questions," added Sam.
"Look," she sighed, "the cops already came by. I'm tired. So if you don't mind—"
"I understand. Really, I do," continued Sam. "I know how hard this must be. We'd just like to figure out what happened. This will be quick. I promise."
It was interesting to hear this Sam handle a case, noticed Rose. Before, if they had someone not immediately compliant, it would usually fall to her to try and talk their way into the scene, or risk Sam's curt attitude getting them in trouble. Although the aggressiveness or the flirting worked, it tended to make her uncomfortable. Simple to say she preferred this nicer version of Sam.
"Okay. Fine. Come in."
Sam stepped inside first and she and Dean shared a similar look of relief. If he was approving then this must be the way Sam was before Hell.
The sister led them up to Penny's room where they started to look around for any clues, regular or supernatural. The room was painted pale pink with a few flower paintings on the walls, a stuffed bear on the bed. The aesthetic made her smile in a way, it was the complete opposite of the vampire case they had worked awhile back with the bedroom and doom-and-gloom vibe. She was never a "pink" type of girl herself but at least this room didn't having brooding vampires staring at them.
"Penny was very shy. She kept to herself," explained her sister. "Not at all what you'd call adventurous."
"So going up in a plane during a thunderstorm was completely out of the ordinary?" Rose asked gently.
"She was terrified of that thing," she agreed wholeheartedly. "She just did it for Stan…"
"Stan?" asked Sam.
"The boyfriend," Rose informed him quietly. The sister nodded again.
"They were just starting to get serious," she told them. "She didn't want to seem, you know, not interested. I just wish I told her to stay home. We don't even have a body to bury."
With a few parting words, the three found themselves back in the motel room going over paperwork. Sam and Rose had stayed behind to start comparing victims while Dean had just made a quick run to grab lunch, his arms full with drinks and a white paper bag of fast food when he returned.
"Hey."
"What do you got?" he asked.
"Well, looks like those other two missing girls both baked cookies for the Lord," answered Sam, leaning back in his chair. Rose made a face as did Dean.
"What is that, code?"
"That sounds so weird, like they're some sort of religious gang," she laughed. "They're girls who are pretty active with the church and community. They volunteer and help out a lot."
"Right, like church choir, bake sales, promise ring clubs, the works," elaborated Sam. "They were good girls. But the thing is, Penny wasn't even a Christian, so—"
"I have another theory," interrupted Dean with a smirk.
"Really?"
"Penny's diary." He pulled the small book from his jacket's interior pocket with flourish.
"Did you steal that from her room?" asked Sam incredulously.
Dean gave another grin. "I love that you even ask me that—"
"And why wouldn't I?" asked Sam in disbelief.
"No reason. So girlnappings," he deflected easily. "What if it's not about religion? What if it's about purity?"
"You mean you think they're all—?"
"Virgins, Sam. Virgins."
Rose's amusement from their back and forth came to a sudden halt at his words. She tried to keep her expression even but she could feel the color draining from her face.
"Penny was twenty-two."
"Yeah, with a pink room."
"So?"
"And stuffed teddy bears."
Her body couldn't decide if it wanted to pale or blush from the topic of discussion. On the plus side, she could be used as bait if purity was the monster's motive. The downside, she would have to admit to the brothers that she was twenty-seven and virgin and that was a whole other kettle of fish because she would then need to explain that her virginity was a part of her deal with Crowley and that was more embarrassment then she could typically handle.
"Fine, but you really think—?"
Dean held up a finger to quiet him and began to read from the diary like a teacher would read from a book. ""I've decided I'm going to give Stan my most precious gift.""
"A little pretentious way to say it," Rose added weakly.
"And wow, that sounded creepy coming out of your mouth," finished Sam.
"I think I delivered it," he shrugged.
"You know, you could have led with the diary?" said Sam. "Anyways, let's say you're right. Fine. Who would want virgins?"
"You got me," sighed Dean. "I prefer ladies with experience."
"Helpful," Rose tried to tease. She cleared her throat. "Don't certain spells or curses call for the blood or even the death of a virgin?"
"Right, but gathering up multiple victims makes it sound more like a feeding. So I think we're still safe betting it's a monster of some sort," explained Sam.
She tried not to let her disgust show at the prospect. "Great…"
Quietly, she thought back to the contract she had made with Crowley all those years ago. She had promised her soul, virginity, and eternal servitude out of desperation to save her sister. He had taken her offer, sealing it with a kiss and binding her soul to him. So from that point she didn't even attempt to pursue a proper romantic relationship. Every so often she would try to go out on a date, maybe flirt a little, but the efforts always fell flat because she was never really interested in the other person, her thoughts wandering back to Crowley most of the time. There were plenty of conversations with her mom about the future and how she needed to seriously start looking for someone and to think about settling down. Of course, she didn't have the heart to tell her that she wasn't going to live past twenty-six.
Now with Crowley dead, what did that mean for her? At the thought her chest felt painfully tight, her heart contracting sharply. Still, she couldn't think of the future or of some random person that she would sleep or settle down with. It still felt like betrayal in a way. She couldn't bring herself to think ahead in regards to romance, she didn't have time for that. Not to mention that she didn't want to, cleaving to her memories of the demon, their last encounter seared into her mind. Just the two of them in that run down kitchen, the heat radiating from him, his arms around her and their lips had only just scarcely brushed, not quite connecting, but the electricity was there, dancing up and down her spine.
She missed him so much…
The next day they were called to the hospital due to an attempted attack on a girl that fit their profile. The fact that it was "attempted" allowed them the chance to ask questions to try and figure out what was happening.
"It happened so fast," said the girl quietly.
"It's all right, Melissa," Sam reassured her. "What came at you? You can tell us."
She paused, taking a breath. "It—it looked like, uh…a giant bat…"
Her voice was still soft and she quickly looked down at her sheets, embarrassed. The three shared a look, unsure of what to make of the information.
"You think I'm making it up, right?" she asked. "It's what the other man said."
"Well, I'm not the other man," Sam told her kindly. She looked reassured by his words, believing him.
"It came right at me," she told them. "It was huge. I swear."
"We believe you," Rose promised her. "Were you able to see if there was anything else distinguishing about what attacked you?"
"No, it was too dark," she said. "It was just so big—that's how I got this…"
Very gingerly, she pulled the back of the gown open enough for them to see the large pair of lines cut into the back of her shoulder, already stitched up by the medical staff but still an alarming sight.
Talons, was Rose's first thought.
"So it attacked, and then what happened?" asked Sam.
"I don't know. I passed out…and when I woke up, it was gone."
"Is there anything else you can think of? Anything you can tell us, even if it doesn't seem important?"
She was quiet for a moment, looking at her hands. "Well…my ring got lost…or else that thing stole it, if that makes any sense…"
"What kind of ring?" asked Dean.
"Gold. Promise ring."
"Promise ring," he reiterated, "from, like, a church? Like a purity ring?"
"Yeah. Why?"
The three shared a look again. If what they were hunting was tracking down virgins, why would it release this girl, especially when she was wearing a ring that clearly stated her purity status? Unless…
Dean cleared his throat. "I gotta ask…Melissa, look, nobody is judging anybody here, okay? Believe me. But, should you really be wearing that ring?"
"Well—I am—really—"
"Really?"
Her bottom lip quivered after a moment.
"Matt Barne didn't count!"
The sound of the incoming ambulance filled the air as they made their way through the parking lot.
"So, what, you think Batman tried to rape her?" guessed Sam.
"Well, he does carry a lot of rage," answered Dean. "But he rejected her because she was already dehymenated, huh?"
Rose raised a brow in question. "You think?"
"I think it goes to show that being easy is pretty much all upside."
"So, what kind of thing likes virgins and gold?" asked Sam.
Dean guessed, "P. Diddy?"
"Smaug," Rose couldn't help but snort.
"Real monsters, Bilbo," he teased. "And Dean, y'know, it's comforting."
"What is?"
"I died for a year, came back, and you're still not funny."
"Shut up. I'm hilarious."
"You've got to be kidding me," exasperated Sam. "This can't be possible."
"Try me."
He typed on his laptop again, making Rose look up from the book she was combing through while Dean worked on a perimeter.
"I Googled fire, claws, flying, stealing virgins and gold, and it all takes me to the same place."
"Where?"
He turned his computer around for them to see. "World of Warcraft fansites."
"Really?" asked Rose, leaning in to take a look.
Dean turned away from the map to look at them. "I don't know what that means."
"Dragons, dude," he simplified. "Guess Rose wasn't wrong…"
"I was just being a smartass," she quickly defended.
"Right, because it shouldn't be possible."
She and Dean turned to each other and she gave a shrug. "Monsters have been really weird this year…"
"What? How? In what reality could this be real?" asked Sam.
"Red's right, it's been a strange year," he agreed. "We should get a second opinion."
This time she gave him a confused look. "Who're you gonna call? Hagrid?"
"Close. Bobby might know something," he said, pulling out his phone. "Nerd."
She rolled her eyes, amused as the phone rang. This conversation should be fun, even one sided, and very short.
No greetings were necessary.
"Hey, what do you know about dragons?...Seriously…Could you make a few calls?...Humor me…You're a gentleman and a scholar…Everything's fine. Sam and Rose say hey."
With a small beep, the call was ended.
"A whole lotta nothin', huh?" guessed Rose. The sigh was all the answer she needed.
Time passed slowly as they worked on researching what the monster could possibly be and if it was really a dragon, where it could be, why it was there, and how to try and kill it. As if that wasn't difficult enough, they were also trying to differentiate what information was valid and what was fan-made.
Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, flipping through John Winchester's journal. Dean sighed, tired as he closed the laptop.
"Dad never wrote anything about dragons. I promise," he said. "I'd remember if I read The Neverending Story in there."
"Hey…did we hunt a skinwalker lately?"
Rose immediately looked up from her book at Sam's question. While it was relatively harmless, it did reflect an event from the past year and half, information that was supposed to be behind Death's wall in his mind. She quickly looked to Dean, her reaction unnoticed as Sam was looking to his brother as well.
"Doesn't ring a bell. Why?"
"I don't know. Just déjà vu or something." He looked back at the journal and then up again. "Are you sure? I could have sworn—"
"You gotta remember your eggs are still a little scrambled," said Dean. "But, yeah, I'm sure."
"All right. Yeah. Never mind."
Dean returned her concern, his mouth forming a firm line. Thankfully, the phone rang and he quickly answered.
"Hey, Bobby. What do you got?…Dr. Visyak, SFU. Got it. Thanks."
Scribbling down the information, Dean got to his feet.
"All right. I'm going to San Francisco, figure out how to kill these things," he told them. "You two figure out where they are."
"Did Bobby say where they like to park?" asked Sam.
"No."
"Great. Back to the lore," he grumbled, less than enthused.
"Which says what, that they live in Middle-earth?" joked Dean.
"Yes, stealing gold from the dwarves under the mountain," added Rose with a knowing smirk.
"Close though. It says they live in caves."
Dean shook his head, grabbing his jacket before heading out.
"Nerds."
A few hours had passed while the two poured over lore and geographical maps, trying to pinpoint where the dragons were taking the girls. According to the information they could dig up, the common place for the monsters were caves. While that was all well and good, it wasn't exactly a commodity for the state of Oregon, least of all the small town they were currently in.
"All right. If I read one more World of Warcraft theory I'm going to go crazy," groaned Rose, stretching back in her chair. "Do you want a drink? I think I saw a vending machine."
"Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks."
Making sure she had enough coins from her bag, she left the motel room and walked toward the main office where she had spotted the old machine. She was vaguely aware of the fact that she didn't ask Sam what drink he wanted, but she was going off the information she had learned from before. Shrugging her shoulders, she busied herself with feeding the coins into the slot. Something as little as that couldn't be a threat to the wall, could it? Then again, he was already experiencing a sense of déjà vu, evident when he asked them about the skinwalker. That case was relatively recent, so maybe it was a coincidence?
She sighed as she headed back to the room, the two cold drinks in her hands. She never did believe in coincidences, they would just have to be careful that nothing else messed with the wall. Pushing the door open, she came to a standstill at the sight of Castiel in the room.
"Is everything all right?" she asked, quickly closing the door behind her.
Sam nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, Cas was—was just telling me about how I was walking around without a soul last year."
She whirled on the angel, eyes wide as she scolded, "Cas!"
He simply furrowed his brow at her outburst. "I don't understand. Does he not know?"
"Not anymore!" she exasperated. Setting the drinks down, she ran her hand through her hair. "Dammit, Dean's going to be pissed…"
"Were you guys ever going to bring this up?" asked Sam. "I mean, how could I be walking around soulless?"
"There was an attempt to resurrect you, but it was incomplete due to your soul being locked in the cage. Your mind and body was restored while your soul remain trapped."
If looks could kill the angel would be dead on the spot.
"Just—just tell me that's all you know," she asked, doing her best to keep her voice under control. "That's all you told him, right?"
When the two remained guiltily silent she threw her hands up in defeat.
"Jesus Christ, how long was I gone?!"
"Rose, don't get mad at Cas," deterred Sam, getting to his feet. "I told him to tell me."
She turned her focus to him, stepping closer.
"Sam Winchester, you listen to me when I say that it is for your own good to just—forget this past year," she told him, her tone pleading. "Whatever Cas told you—forget it."
"How can I forget it?" he said, incredulous. "After what I did to Dean, to Bobby—to you? How can I possibly ignore that?"
"I don't know, but you just have to," she said. She looked back at Cas. "Did you explain to him about the wall?"
"No. I thought you had already discussed the deal with Death. I can see that I was misinformed," he answered.
She took a breath before apologizing, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bite your head off."
Castiel nodded in return.
"I understand."
She gestured to the table for them to take a seat, suddenly tired from her emotional outburst. Castiel politely declined, stating he had to get back to heaven, unable to stay away for too long due to the seemingly never ending battle with Raphael. When the angel left, Sam took a seat at the table as well and Rose began,
"Okay, so, the deal is Death put up a wall in your mind to keep back all of your memories of Hell and the cage."
"Great."
"Exactly, but it's not a perfect solution," she explained. "Hell is behind the wall but so is this past year and half that you were with us topside. So by trying to remember this past year, you're pushing against the wall."
"But how can I just ignore all that time? It was still me running around so it's my responsibility for whatever I did. I mean—I almost killed Bobby!"
"I know and I'm sorry but you can't dwell on it," she reached out and grabbed his hand with both of hers. "This wall is a one-time deal and if it comes crashing down, we—we have no idea what will happen, what the memories of Hell will do to you."
"But—"
"Sam, please," she begged. "I promise, I'll fill you in on anything from the past year if it's absolutely necessary, but please, you have to leave it alone."
He took a slow breath and nodded.
"Okay."
Dean returned to the motel later that same day after a successful visit with Dr. Visyak. He had learned what kind of weapon would kill a dragon, a sword forged with dragon's blood. While that seemed like an impossible task, seeing as you needed dragon's blood to make the weapon to kill the dragon, it was nothing short of a miracle that Dr. Visyak happened to have such a sword. The sword of Bruncvik.
Except, it was more like the dagger of Bruncvik now.
"What are we supposed to do with this, give it a booster shot?" asked Sam, looking at the broken sword. Apparently there was some trouble getting it out of the stone it was bound to.
"It's what we got. We just have to get a little closer. That's all," defended Dean. "Where are we on the caves?"
"Nowhere on caves," answered Rose.
"Sewers, on the other hand. Here, check this out," he finished, pulling the map around for him to see, pointing to the market district. "So two of the disappearances happened within a mile of here. So I figure we start there, work our way around."
"Awesome. Who doesn't love sewers?" Dean mumbled sarcastically. "Let's go."
Making certain that her hair was pinned back tightly, Rose followed the boys out to the car, not looking forward to exploring the town's sewer.
Hours passed as they carefully worked through the sewer system, their flashlights still going strong. Rose did her best not to focus on the variety of smells, otherwise she wouldn't be able to pay attention to anything else besides just how gross everything was down there.
"Oh, God," groaned Dean. "Just when I get used to a smell, I hit a new flavor. Dude, we've been here for hours. There is nothing. I think the lore is off. Hey, what if dragons like nice hotels?"
"I second that!" added Rose.
Sam didn't seem to be interested in what they were saying as his beam of light moved. "What is that?"
"What?"
Their lights followed his and the pile of gold glittered in response. It was like a hoarder's stash of jewelry, watches, anything gold and shiny basically.
"Looks like the lore holds up…" she muttered.
Dean bent down to pick up a piece of gold, studying it. "Okay, so maybe there are dragons here."
Sam was already looking around again. "Guys, check this out…"
Taking care to keep her footsteps soft, she followed him to what appeared to be an altar of some sort. There were lit candles, a shallow bowl of unrecognizable items, small bottles of what looked like blood, and a very aged leather bound book of some sort.
"A little arts-and-crafty for a giant bat, right?"
"A bit more ritual-y…" she added. Before she could open the book to take a closer look there was the sound of someone calling, their voice softly bouncing from down the adjacent tunnel.
"Hello? Is someone there? Can you please help us?"
They made their way down the hall, following the voice. Stepping onto the workman's walkway, it allowed them more of a visual advantage as they searched for the source of the voice.
"Hello?" came the desperate cry again. "Over here!"
Following the sound, it took a second to find them since they were beneath the grates. Shining the light toward them, they were able to see that all the girls who had gone missing were kept all together, like cattle in a pen.
"'Hey. We're gonna get you out," promised Dean.
"Quick, they're coming back!"
Sam wedged the crowbar under the hinge and started to pry it open while Rose knelt down to ask the girls about their captor.
"How many are there?"
The girl she was looking at suddenly paled, her eyes growing wide. Abruptly, Sam vanished from her peripheral and she turned in time to see a boot sink into her stomach and send her flying down the walkway.
She crashed hard, head banging against the ground in the fall. Rolling onto her side she tried to catch her breath, her diaphragm struggling to recover properly and stars dancing in her eyes. Her ribs rang with pain and protest, but she pushed herself upright with a groan of effort. Dean lunged forward at the dragon, who looked just like a regular guy, and swung the sword of Bruncvik. It sliced the dragon's arm and the resulting gouge looked purple and acidic at the sword's touch.
"Where'd you get that?" he growled at Dean.
"Comic-Con."
The victory was short lived as the dragon managed to grab Dean's arm, forcing it back and the broken sword clattered through the grated floor. Taking the opportunity that no one was paying her any mind, Rose quickly hurried over to where the sword fell. Dropping to the ground again, she was lying flat on her stomach as she stuck her arm through the grates opening. The sword was stuck tip first in the ground, leaving the handle easy to grasp. The only difficulty was that sword was out of her reach.
Glancing back at the fight, she saw the dragon's hand suddenly burn bright and she didn't have to think twice to understand that it was a different incarnation of dragon fire. There was a sudden sound of impact as Sam struck the dragon's back with a crowbar and Dean was beside her, reaching past the grate. While he naturally had more reach, her arm and shoulder were more narrow and both of their fingertips were brushing against the pommel. Her nail glanced against the metal but she immediately recoiled when Dean was grabbed by the back of his jacket and sent flying away from her.
She couldn't help but curse inwardly. Throwing herself back to the floor, she thrust her arm down toward the sword, ignoring her body's natural reach. The fight was still going on, each brother occupied with a monster, because, of course, there was more than one. She pressed her cheek against the flor as she reached, pushing all of her physical ability into stretching her arm out further.
Finally!
There was the sound of metal scraping against metal as she drew the sword from the depths, jumping to her feet. The brothers were each blocked by a dragon but Sam had at least a crowbar while Dean had nothing. The dragon facing him brought his hand up and it started to glow red. Her choice was made in a blink, and she leapt forward, thrusting the broken sword forward.
Violet lightning seemed to spark from the metal and she yanked it back, whirling around to see Sam turning back to her. Without a conscious thought, she tossed the sword to him and he dropped the crowbar and caught the broken weapon without missing a beat.
She didn't see if he turned and landed the next hit because there was a sudden sound of rushing air and darkness smothered her.
Like a curtain being yanked back, the world was revealed to her again and Rose inhaled deeply, as if she had been holding her breath. Her feet were barely touching the ground as she was forcibly moved. Head lolling forward for a moment, she tried to regain her bearings while voices spoke up.
"What took you so long?" one demanded. "What happened?"
"Ran into a problem," the dragon holding her answered. The surroundings were coming into focus and she could see that she was out in the woods somewhere. There was no indicator to tell her just how far she was from Sam and Dean in the little Oregon town or how late it was into the night.
"You're damn lucky I got enough—"
"—But take a look at this one."
Her feet stumbled over each other as she was shoved forward and the other guy grabbed her tightly by her upper arms.
"What do you—" He stopped as he studied her and she jerked back, struggling against his grip. Leaning in closer, he muttered,
"Well, aren't you interesting…"
She snapped her teeth at him in response, wanting nothing more than to tear that smug look away, "Screw you, cue ball!"
"This is your lucky day, little girl," he chuckled.
He spun her around too quickly for her to break away and he marched her forward. His strength did nothing to deter her as she threw her weight against him, digging her heels into the ground to push back, to stall him from whatever their plan was with her.
The trees quickly gave way to a rocky cliff side and her panic spiked. She thrashed against the dragon, doing everything in her physical power to somehow wiggle free. The edge drew nearer and her heart pounded rapidly within her chest. She struggled even harder, her mind whirling at what to do. What was going to happen? What was the point? What were they trying to do?
"Stay. Still," the dragon hissed her ear. In response, she threw her head back, feeling the back of her skull make contact with his nose.
Letting out a roar of frustration (and hopefully pain), he returned the favor tenfold. The hold on her arms seemingly exploded with pressure, the dragon throwing his strength into his grip. Her bones creaked, giving way to snapping under the force and she felt her knees buckle as she couldn't help but let out a shrill scream, her mind going blank with pain.
"CROWLEY!"
The King of Hell had been in the middle of speaking with Castiel, going over his recent findings and discussing what else they should be doing to advance their search for Purgatory, when he heard her voice. Instead of the usual frequency where he could hear her as if she had spoken his name from just beside him, this one was a piercing scream that hit him like a spike to the brain. He staggered against the table and Castiel regarded him strangely at the unusual behavior.
"What's wrong?"
"Rosette…"
He ignored the angel as his mind raced, unaware that he had murmured her name. What was happening? Why would she call for him if she thought he had died? What, in Hell's name, made her scream?
There was the sense of icy fear rushing into his awareness and he knew it wasn't his own. Something was very wrong and he found himself unable to stand by. Without so much as a word to his partner-in-crime, he vanished.
It hardly took a thought for him to pin down her exact location. Her soul was a beacon of light to him, blazing in the darkness. Even if he was somehow blind, deaf, and dumb he would know her soul anywhere. It gave off such a particular resonance, it was impossible to confuse it for anyone or anything else.
They were on some rocky cliff side and there were two figures he didn't recognize, Rosette being held at the very edge by one of them. His anger and indignation flared to life and he scowled. How dare they put their hands on his contract?
Her hair was slipping free from its bun, the red strands whipping around from the wind as her foot dared to slip at the edge. He could hear her whimpering as she still tried to fight back, a broken cry of pain escaping her.
One of the figures were chanting something ancient and before the demon could focus on deciphering, there was a deep rumble beneath the earth's surface. Rocks began to break away from the cliff's wall while the canyon floor broke open, releasing a burst of heat as molten lava bloomed forth. The other pushed Rosette closer, her heels just barely digging in to the precipice.
Crowley, still concealing his presence from the people, immediately reached out to grab her shoulder. He needed to get her out of there. There wasn't time to try to fight them and judging by the language and the blood that was dripping to meet the flames. He brought his other hand up to snap his finger but nothing changed.
The sigils.
"Those bloody—" he hissed through his teeth. "Castiel! You get your arse down here, now!"
"Castiel!" screamed Rosette in desperation. "Castiel! Please!"
He couldn't so much as wonder if the reason she called for the angel was because she somehow heard him. The prayer hadn't even finished leaving her lips before she was pushed off the edge. It was as if his body was reacting in slow motion because he moved a beat too late, watching as her body vanished from sight as she fell. Her name tore itself from his throat.
"ROSETTE!"
The girl screamed as she fell, unable to even work her arms to try and put them in front of her to as a form of defense. The fire raced toward and she could see the darkness beyond, slivers of sharp bone reaching out for her. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying for anything to save her, because she felt whatever the dragon's plan was, it extended beyond a simple death.
She prayed for Crowley most of all, no matter how useless.
An explosion of force slammed into her side and she heard the rush of wings. She was duly aware of the feeling of ascension before it all fell away.
REVIEW! Gotta go, in Orlando, Florida and the storm's happening so we're going to lose power soon but I wanted to post this in case we're out of power for awhile. I hope you enjoy! I'll fix typos later, gotta go!
Next time: French Mistake!
Your thoughts would be love!