Chapter Twenty-Six: In Which There Is Literary Symmetry
Gabriel had spent so much time running. And now, he couldn't anymore. Letting his exhausted wings drop for the first time in weeks, he came to a not-so-gentle halt in a field, much like the one he had manifested for Mary Winchester's dream. He hoped he'd managed to get through to her. Those boys of hers were pretty stubborn, but he prayed that she would be reasonable.
"Hello, brother."
A rustle of wings—his brother had always had the softest landings—and Gabriel could feel him standing there. He hadn't been this close to Lucifer in millennia. Gabriel turned around slowly, wanting to spend as long as he could not seeing his brother's face.
Oh. Well, then. Plot twist. He did not see that coming.
"Hey, Mary."
Dad, if you were ever going to do anything, now would be a good time.
"What did you do?" he asked, a bit more dismay than he wanted creeping into his voice.
It didn't surprise him much. She would never let any harm come to her children.
"It'll do," Lucifer said, looking down at her hands, marveling at the bend of each of the new fingers. "For now."
There was a smug tilt to her chin that would have never been present in Mary Winchester. Lucifer walked slowly forwards, the distance between them growing smaller and smaller. It took everything in Gabriel not to back up. He reached for his angel blade instead.
"Stand down, brother," she said, Mary's voice utterly transformed. "You know this won't be an even fight."
Gabriel tightened his grip on the angel blade and dropped into a defensive stance. It was a fight he couldn't win. Michael had barely done it and that had been a long time ago. He'd been lazy since then, convinced his family would never be able to drag him back into their game.
He'd been wrong.
"You're just gonna do this, huh?" he asked. "Play the game just like they want?"
Lucifer shrugged. "They don't know what they've unleashed. And neither do you. I've been able to find some very fascinating things in Mary's head."
She tapped her forehead, smiling. Gabriel closed his eyes. He'd gone to Mary instead of either brother because he'd been afraid that they would say yes and the plan with the rings would come to light. He hadn't, for all his mechanisms, seen this coming.
"I never thought you would be against me, Gabriel."
Gabriel wanted to argue, wanted to warn her, wanted to stop the fate he'd always known was coming, but he didn't have the chance.
Ashen wings painted the ground. Lucifer wiped the angel blade on Mary Winchester's jacket, resolving silently to get a new one later.
/
"You know," she said, wiping Mary's hands on her jacket, "I was going to say no when you came to me."
If Mary had thought things through, maybe she would have realized just how annoying it would to have to share her headspace with the devil. She wanted to roll her eyes, but those eyes weren't hers anymore. (Maybe that should've scared her, but all she could think about is how this wasn't Sam).
"But you looked so helpless. I just had to take pity on you."
Pity? Mary thought.
She wasn't surprised when Lucifer laughed, taking something that Mary had always rather liked about herself and making it cold and empty.
"Well, not really. You see, Mary, I have the three of you figured out. Have had you figured out for a long time. I've known about you for much longer than you've known about me."
Mary wanted to think something snarky, but that was probably what she wanted anyway, so she determinedly wiped her mind blank.
"I had informants, back in the Cage. Lilith, mainly. She told me about Azazel, when it happened. That was clever, Mary. You knew demons can't go back on their deals, so you found the loophole."
She reached into Mary's purse and rifled around until she found a small compact. Mary had forgotten she had it. So they were going to have this conversation face to face, then. Fine.
"And then she came and told me about Cold Oak. Can you imagine? My vessel, shipped off to Heaven. But of course, Dean brought him back because that was what you taught him."
Mary wanted to curl her fingers into fists, wanted to punch until the stupid smug grin on her own face shattered into a thousand pieces, wanted to take the angel currently living in her skull and yank her out bit by bit.
"There's the anger. I was waiting for it. See, Mary, I knew there was one thing I could count on if I wanted this to work for me. You care too much, and you taught your sons the same."
If Mary had been in charge of her own lungs, she would have stopped breathing.
"You'll do anything for each other, all three of you. Sam wasn't gonna say yes. Not until he had no other choice."
Mary hurled every last shred of her consciousness against the wall that kept her from her own body, but it didn't do a thing. It might as well have been made of iron.
"He'd do anything to keep his family safe. I'm afraid I'm not taking you to the big leagues, Mary. You're just an understudy for the real deal, and Sam's about to make his debut."
She clicked the compact shut and dropped it carelessly on the ground.
"Checkmate."
/
"What do you mean, you let her walk away?'
Dean was coming dangerously close to shouting and Sam could tell that he didn't care at all. They'd all met back up at Bobby's, plus Death's ring and minus Mom and the Croataon virus.
Almost a win. Sam shook his head. That was the only thing they ever got. They beat Azazel and ended up unleashing an army of demons on the world. They'd killed Lilith, only to open the Cage. No matter how hard they tried, they could never fix anything without destroying something else.
"Dean—" Ellen said sharply, but to no avail.
"No," he snapped, rounding on her. "She let Mom wander off to God knows where and I want to know why."
Undeterred by the terrifying expression on his face, Lisa stalked straight up to him. She barely came up to his chin, but she somehow seemed much larger, much more intimidating.
"I found out about monsters two years ago," Lisa shouted, face reddening. "So sue me for listening to the woman that's been doing this longer than I've been alive! Besides, we're equal now, aren't we? You were the one who lost Ben!"
That was all it took. Dean took a step back, dropping the angry stance. Lisa turned away, arms crossed tightly around her chest.
"I have a theory."
Castiel hadn't spoken since they'd returned from Chicago. Instead, he'd settled himself in the back of the Mystery Machine and slept. Sam had been a little concerned about the fact that the angel apparently needed to recharge his batteries now, but they had bigger things to worry about.
"The Cupid said that the two of you were descended from two bloodlines," Castiel explained. "One that held the capacity to be Michael's vessel, and one that held the capacity to be Lucifer's. You told me your father was capable of being Michael's."
The implication of that slowly sunk in. Bobby swore under his breath. Ellen swept her glass off the table and on to the ground. Sam felt his breath catch in his throat. She couldn't have.
"I guess that's it, then."
Sam looked over at Dean, brow crinkling slightly.
"Like Gabriel said. Let's play our parts."
"What?"
When Sam had first suggested trying to overpower Lucifer from the inside, Dean had flipped. Now he was on board?
"Look, two options here. One, Ben and Mom go at it, destroy half the world and each other in the process cause they're not meant to be vessels. Two, you and I go at it, destroy half the world, save them. Not that hard of a choice."
Before Sam could tell him what a terrible idea both of the true vessels saying yes at once was, Castiel shot across the room. Even without most of his Grace, he managed to pin Dean solidly against the wall, hand in his collar.
"I gave up everything for you," Cas spat, giving him a shake. "My Grace, my wings, my rank. Everything. If Michael and Lucifer get their hands on their true vessels, it will be catastrophic. I can't let that happen. You can't let that happen."
He released Dean and took a step back, clearly still prepared to drag Dean to the ends of the Earth if he showed the inclination to say yes again.
"He's right," Sam said, feeling somewhat like he was floating, somewhere outside of his own head. "I think our first plan is best."
Ellen's head snapped up. "What plan?"
Sam winced as she whipped around to stare at him. Bobby scooted away from Ellen just in case things got a little bit heated.
"I—I'm going to say yes. Dean's going to open the Cage and I'm going to, uh—"
Sam had seen Ellen swear before, but never quite like that before. Even Bobby tilted his head to the side trying to understand some of what she was saying.
"Your momma is going to kill me!" she finished, standing up and hauling him into a hug.
It wasn't quite the hug Sam needed. Ellen was taller, more angular. But she was the best it got. With a lurch of his gut, Sam suddenly realized that he was never going to get a goodbye from Mom. Somehow, that made everything worse.
"Ready?" he asked tightly.
Bobby cleared his throat and pulled a stack of his research off the table. Unlike his usual work, there was nothing organized about it. The margins had scribbles all over them, the numbered pages were wildly out of order and they were all crumpled.
"Haven't got the slightest where this is gonna go down," he muttered, rifling through a couple sheets.
Ellen went to muse over the map, but before she could walk three steps, Sam's cellphone rang. His first, completely inane thought was that it was Mom. A distant last on his list was—
"Chuck?"
"Sam." Almost fervent, Sam could hear Chuck breathing, hard, on the other end of the line. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this but I know where she is."
She. Chuck knew, then.
"I'm sorry about your mom," Chuck continued in a single breath. "If it's anything, she wasn't happy about it." A small squeak on the other end of the line, and then Chuck was back. "Stull Cemetery."
Sam had been only a handful of times in his life, but he knew the name.
"In Lawrence."
"Literary symmetry, right?" Chuck managed. "Gotta go."
Sam snorted. As if life was ever that neat.
/
"Sam—"
The car lingered in the gateway to the cemetery a few beats longer than necessary. They all stared at each other—Bobby and Ellen and Cas shoulder to shoulder in the back, faces stone, Dean and Sam in the front, Dean's knuckles white around the wheel.
"Look after her," he said tightly, gaze fixed straight in front of him.
"We'll see you again, kid," Ellen gritted out, sounding even less sure than Sam felt.
He appreciated the gesture anyway. Walking to the gallows was hard enough without thinking about what came after the quick drop and sudden stop.
"Don't you give in," Bobby ordered, not quite looking at him.
Dean finally spit it out. "I'm proud of you."
Hearing what Mom had said strengthened his resolve. "Drive," he said, the unspoken or I'll lose my nerve hanging between them.
Just as Mom's figure came into view over the crest of the last hill, Dean pressed play on the ancient cassette player. Despite himself, Sam smiled, one last time. They didn't know how to go out, except with a blast.
All five of them got out of the car. They were a ragtag group if Sam had ever seen one—Ellen with her dark circles from long, sleepless nights; Bobby and his scraggly beard and baseball cap; Cas with his Grace steadily draining away; Dean, Michael's forgotten vessel. And him.
"Hello, Sam."
She looked the same, but then, Sam didn't know what he'd expected. It had only been a few hours. Aside from the blood clinging to her jacket, there was nothing to distinguish her from his mother. Sam took a few steps forward, placing himself between Lucifer and his family.
"Mom."
She gave the barest hint of a smile. "Wrong."
Sam kept walking forward, not quite sure what he was doing. Behind him, he could almost feel Dean tensing, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Sam had never fought something as dangerous as the devil, but he'd never been safer.
"Let her go."
"She was the one that came to me," she said. "Can't say I saw it coming, can't say I'm complaining. Especially after you were a no show."
Lucifer shook her head in mock sadness, the ghost of a smile playing at the corner of her lips. Sam's stomach rolled.
"Oh, she's been fighting all right. Trying to break through, but the truth is, nothing could." She put a finger to Mom's—her—lips. "Don't tell her, it's a secret."
Sam gritted his teeth, feeling the word gather behind his tongue, trying to escape. He'd been trying to escape this for so long, but maybe Lucifer had been right. Maybe it had always been destiny.
"Yes."
"I knew you would, Sam," she said, face breaking into a grin. "We're perfect for each other, don't you see?"
And suddenly, it was all gone.
/
Mary became aware of the sun first, blistering on the side of her face upturned to it. Her eyes slid slowly open, squinting against the light, face crinkling in response to the prickling grass. She lifted her head, just enough to see the two bodies crumpled in the grass several feet to her right.
Oh God.
Bobby. Ellen.
Oh God.
"Sam. It's okay. I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you."
Mary tore her gaze away from the bodies (blood, too much blood for two snapped necks, her brain supplied Cas but no that couldn't be, couldn't happen—).
"No!"
And then she was running, throwing herself off the ground with absolutely everything she had and flinging herself forward, just in time to catch Sam's—Lucifer's—latest punch. She crumpled, hard, against the side of the Impala next to Dean.
"Sam, you've got to fight it. Come on, sweetheart." She slowly became aware that she was begging, but couldn't find it in herself to care. "Please come back, Sam. I need you. I love you."
Another punch, and then Dean again, reaching out to grab at his wrist.
"We're here."
And suddenly, something in his face changed. A flicker, and the façade dropped. Mary sobbed in relief as any trace of Lucifer dropped away from her son's face.
"It's okay," he said hoarsely. "It's okay. I've got him."
He fumbled in his pocket for the rings. The second he let Dean go, Dean's legs gave out and he collapsed. Mary slid to the ground with him, the possession still getting the better of her.
"Sam, don't. We can find another way."
He turned back to look at her—dropped the rings—the Pit opened before them, wide and gaping and so empty—she'd do anything if it meant he didn't have to—Ben.
"Look!" Mary screamed, but it was far too late.
With strength that Ben's small frame should have never had, Michael dragged Sam back from the edge. Mary reached for him, not sure if she was pushing him forward or pulling back, but there was nothing she could do.
They teetered there on the edge for an eternity, her son and her grandson, staring down into the abyss.
She wasn't ready.
She never would be.
When the ground closed above them, Mary finally caught sight of the little headstone sitting innocently on the other side.
John Winchester
Literary symmetry.