Frozen.
She was frozen.
She flitted with the body to the bedroom in his condo. Then she called Davis in. Davis walked in, his normal bland, imperturbable self, then stopped in his tracks. His face crumpled. "Sir...?" he whispered. Then he moved to the bed, sank down on it, stared at the body, and whispered again, "Fergus...?" She didn't have to tell him that he hadn't smoked out; there was death residue any demon would recognize. After a few minutes, Davis turned his face to her, and said, brokenly, "Miss Dani...Miss Dani - what - what do I do? Where - where do I go? Centuries. Mister Redmond - Crowley - I've been with him for...centuries. On and off. What do I do?"
She didn't have an answer.
She wrapped the body in power so it was in stasis. She felt in his pockets, pulled out his phone, scrolled to his contacts, then his favorites. Her name was there. The idiot had put a red heart emoticon by it. She ignored it, looked through the list, began making calls to his inner circle.
They came. They were all stunned. Like Davis, some had been with him, supporting him, for centuries. It wasn't friendship, but it was fierce loyalty. When they hesitantly asked her to stand up, take the throne, she shuddered, then laughed in their faces. She did, however, give them two commands. They bared their teeth, nodded, demon black flashing in their eyes. They would pass the word.
She sent them away.
Innie-Me said nothing, just sort of hummed in the background. It was strange, but also strangely comforting.
She returned to her nest, immersed herself in research. She was looking for something in particular.
There were reminders of him everywhere. She left the bottle of scotch and glasses on the kitchen island, trailing fingers down the bottle whenever she walked by.
Davis appropriated her guest room, and her. They didn't talk at all. He just made sure she was fed, that her clothes were clean, that she stopped her obsessive research enough to rest, get some sleep, bathe. He pushed her out of the nest to take walks in the frigid winter air. She did the same for him.
One day, there was a knock on her door. She opened it to find Charlie, with Doli, standing in the hall.
"Dani..."
She nodded. "Charlie..."
Charlie made a strange grimace, then stepped forward, grabbed her, hugged her hard. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry you're hurting so bad," she murmured. Dani stood stiffly within the embrace, shrugged. Charlie hugged harder, and Dani slowly, slowly relaxed into it, let her head drop to Charlie's shoulder. She drew in a shaky breath, said quietly, voice cracking, "I...miss him." Charlie stroked her short hair, said softly, "I know."
Then she shook herself, stepped back, pushed her short red hair back behind her ears, and said, "Well. Christmas. I thought - well. Um. Maybe you'd like to hang out with me and Doli. Christmas Day. Y'know - "
Dani blinked at her. A tiny, thin thread of amusement wormed its way to the surface. She smiled faintly. "Charlie. Demon, remember?"
Charlie opened her mouth awkwardly, closed it with a snap. "Oh. Yeah. Right. Um. Well, anyway, so I really didn't think you'd come, so I brought your present - " She thrust a small, gaily wrapped present at Dani. Dani slowly took it from her. She looked down at it, turned it over in her hands. "You can open it now! Go on - open it!" Dani smiled faintly again at her eagerness. She fumbled at it, pulling the bright red and green paper off, looked.
It was a flash drive. She looked up at Charlie questioningly.
"It's all of it - the translation - the Book of the Saved and the Book of the Damned. All digitized, in a database, indexed, tagged, everything!"
Dani slowly closed her hand around the drive. Fodder for her research. Maybe what she was looking for would be there...
"Thank you." She drew in a shuddery breath, and repeated, more loudly, "Thank you, Charlie. This is...priceless."
Charlie grinned. "I knew you'd like it!" she crowed. Then she pulled Dani into a rough hug again, released her, stepped back. "So. Uh. I'll see you. Soon!" Doli nodded wordlessly at Dani, touched Charlie, and they disappeared.
Dani closed the door slowly, leaned her head against it. There was now a small - very small - spot of warmth in her frozen interior landscape.
It was days before Sam was ready to be moved. Dean hovered over him incessantly, pressing rabbit food, protein, and strange health drinks on him when he was awake, watching him closely while he was sleeping. He had shoved him into the shower as soon as possible, making snarky remarks about rancid hair and crusty man sweat. Sam emerged from the shower pale and shaky, but at least he was clean again.
Finally, though, they gathered everything that had gotten strewn across the motel room, packed their things, threw out empty soda and beer bottles, packed the car. Even that small amount of work left Sam exhausted, so he collapsed in the car and promptly fell asleep huddled against the passenger door.
The plan was to drive to the cabin in the Adirondacks, return the rental car, get back to Baby - Baby! - again, hole up there for a few weeks. Dean was happy, energized as he threw the car into gear, pulled out of the motel, and drove back to the convenience store to stock up on road food and gas. Cas went into the store to get the goodies while he pumped the gas. He was singing Van Halen, relaxed and looking forward to the future, when the man sauntered up to him.
"Winchester..." the stranger sneered. Then he flashed beetle black eyes, which he slid to the car, where Sam was sleeping. Dean tensed, ready to spring. "That your brother back there?" Dean took a step forward, growling, and the demon swept a hand to send him slamming against the hood of the car. "I'll take that as a yes." He pulled a knife out of his waist sheath, stalked to the passenger side. He looked back at Dean and smiled toothily. "Orders, yeah, but I'd do it anyway. Some of us liked having Crowley in charge..." Dean struggled, but couldn't move; he growled again, wordlessly.
Then Cas was behind the demon, eyes flaring blue, reaching a hand out, smiting. The demon hit the ground, and Dean staggered up, dashed to the gas nozzle, jerked it out, and jumped in the car. Cas moved equally fast getting into the back seat. Dean threw the car into gear and peeled out of the station, speeding up as he headed north on the small highway.
"Shit. Shit shit shit. Thanks, Cas." Cas nodded, catching his eyes in the rear view mirror.
"Orders," Cas said. "I assume orders to kill Sam."
"Yeah. Guess we'll just have to keep our eyes open."
Sam had slept through the whole thing.
They didn't encounter any more demons on the trip.
The cabin was snug and cozy. They kept a large fire going in the fireplace, and it kept most of the cabin warm. Dean caught Cas muttering on his phone to someone a few times - he presumed it was Charlie. Remembering how they had connived at the Thanksgiving feast, he just smiled and didn't press him for details. Sam mostly lazed around on the sofa, wrapped in various fuzzy blankets. Grass in the Wind had darted away from the car when they arrived, and he hadn't seen the adolescent fox since.
He snuck into town one day, to a liquor store, and bought a bottle of the most expensive scotch they had. He returned to the cabin in Baby - Baby! God, it was so good to get back to her! - poked his head in the door, told Cas he was going for a walk. Then he headed out through the woods, head tucked down in his heavy jacket like a turtle, bag with bottle tucked between his arm and body. He wandered aimlessly, found a spot he liked, and stopped. He pulled the bottle out, stuffed the empty bag in his pocket. He opened it, took a swig. He blinked, then blew out a deep, surprised breath.
"Damn, that's good stuff!" he commented, holding the bottle up and peering at it. Then he looked around, shuffled his feet awkwardly, and began to speak to the air around him.
"So. Okay. Look, this is weird as hell, but here goes." He held the scotch up as if he were saluting someone.
"You were a slimy, scheming, manipulative sonovabitch, Crowley, but, dammit, you had style. And, in a weird kind of way, you were - uh - sort of a friend of mine. So - uh - this is for you." He poured a small amount of the scotch on the ground, where it seeped through the crusted snow, turning it a pale amber. "Look. What you did to Sammy was shitty, shitty stuff. And I get why he felt he needed to kill you - hell, I wanted to kill you!" He paused, took another swig. "And you did some really nasty things, to us, to other people. But. You helped us with Lucifer - twice. You helped us with Leviathan. At the end, you did the right thing about the Mark." He poured some more out on the ground, then swallowed some himself. "So. Uh. Anyway. Thanks? I guess. And I'm kinda going to miss having you around, you douche." He stopped, head down, shifted his feet again. Then he sighed, looked up, and said. "So. Okay, then. I guess that's it. Bye."
He crouched down, twisted the bottle into the snow so that it stood up straight, stood back up, and nodded at it. Then he turned away, trudged back to the cabin, hunched into his jacket, hands in his pockets.
Sam started out with short walks a few times a day. Then longer walks, with a few intervals of running. He was feeling stronger, healthier. Christmas Eve morning, he left the cabin with an axe, spent some time splitting wood for the fire. When he felt he had done as much as was wise, he laid the axe down beside the wood, stood and stretched, and just let the warmth of the exercise seep through him. It felt good.
After a few minutes, he pushed back his long hair, looked around, and decided to take a walk, enjoy the day. He followed an open trail for a while, and found himself at the bench where he and Charlie had talked, weeks ago. He sat down, stretched his long legs out, stuffed his hands in his pockets, leaned his head back and stared up at the sky. It was a wide, open blueness that soothed and relaxed him. He slumped down further, sighing.
He heard snow crunching, someone walking toward him. He pulled himself up a bit, looked. A small form walked slowly through the woods toward him, head down, dark red hair making a bright contrast to the snow, the dead trees. Charlie. He waited until she was closer, then called out, "Hey."
She looked up, and a warm smile spread across her face. "Sam! I was looking for you!"
"Well, you found me," he said fondly, with a return smile. He patted the bench beside him. "Come on, sit down." She trudged through the crisp snow to the bench, sank down onto it with a sigh. They sat in companionable silence, faces turned up to the weak sunlight. Finally, she sighed, tilted her head back down, poked him in the ribs.
"So. I was angry about what you did to Dani."
He looked down, folded his lips, rubbed a gloved fist on his thigh. "Yeah. Well. I was...in a kind of a bad place then, Charlie."
"Yeah. I get it," she said, staring out at the trees. "Still recovering from the detox. Angry. Hating." He winced. "So. Did it - killing Crowley - did it make you feel better?" She peered at him intently, her hair swaying down into her serious face.
He turned his head away. "No," he said in a low voice. They were both quiet for a while, then he added, "I had - reasons. Or at least, I thought I did. But in the end...in the end...it was revenge, pure and simple." He frowned, forehead crinkling into deep wrinkles. "It made me feel...well. If I'd done it for justice, or to protect someone, save someone...it would have been different. But I really did it because I hated him. Hated what he had done to me. So..." He trailed off, stared thoughtfully before him.
She looked at him, his profile, nodded. "I know. When I killed Wellington-when Bad Charlie killed Wellington, but that's the same as me killing him, because Bad Charlie is really me - anyway. It didn't make me feel better. Y'know? It made me feel...icky, that's the only word for it, icky." Sam's lips twitched, but he understood. "So...uh...anyway! You're all free from that nasty blood addiction! And you're getting all better, right?" He nodded, smiling. "Cool beans! But what about - about the natural stuff - the power without the blood - ?"
In answer, he reached out with the power, grabbed some of the crusty snow, warmed it enough so it would make a good snowball, then lofted it into the air in front of her. She grinned at it, looked at him, her eyes sparkling. He grinned back at her. Then he used the power to toss the hovering snowball at the back of her head.
"Aaaggghhh!" she screeched. She jumped up, twisting her head, reaching behind to pat her back, did a little dance. "Oh! You! I have snow down my back now, darn it!" She twisted some more, shook her shoulders, held the bottom back of her jacket out to try to shake some of the snow out. "Aaaggghhh! Now it's melting! And it's so cold!" She swooped down to scoop up some snow, make a ball, but she didn't have the advantage of warmth to meld the crusty top with the sparkling loose snow beneath. Still, she tossed the loose handful at him, laughing. He stood up, powdery snow spilling down his front, sticking in his hair, glittering in the sunlight, and threw his head back, laughing wholeheartedly. Then he reached forward, grabbed her, and pulled her into a huge hug. He leaned down, pecked the top of her head, snuggled her close.
"You're good for us, Charlie. So good."
She gently punched him in the ribs. "Yeah, well. You guys are good for me, too. So it's even."
He turned her around, started walking back to the cabin with his arm around her shoulders.
When they were close to the cabin, she darted in front of him and danced backwards, grinning again, waving her hands up and down. "Ha ha ha!" she crowed. "We have a surprise for you!" She ran to the cabin door, pulled it open, swept her hand in a grand gesture. "Ta-dahhh!"
He ducked in the door and stopped dead. There was a Christmas tree. A real tree, big and thick and piney-smelling. It glittered with lights and decorations. There was a pile of wrapped presents beneath it. Cas was standing by it, reaching up to put another decoration on. He smiled broadly at Sam, his vivid blue eyes gentle and loving. Charlie's Reaper was sitting to the side, looking up at the tree, perplexed. Grass was pouncing on some ribbon that had fallen on the floor.
Dean came in from the kitchen area, holding two beers. He held them up. "Beer?" Sam held his hand out, took one, absently popped the top off. Dean was grinning. He waved his hand, pointing with his own beer bottle. "Ain't it something?! Cas and Charlie just showed up with it, and the decorations, and the presents. And Grass and Doli, of course. I was surprised. You surprised?" Sam nodded wordlessly, eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
"Yeah, well. Merry Christmas, bro," Dean said, and clapped him on the shoulder.