A/N: So, once again, a chapter in this story has taken a close look at my carefully wrote outline, laughed, and done what it wanted to anyway.
Apparently, Lily and Max needed to hash out some drama, and moving the plot forward had to wait.
That's okay, I love them too, and we hadn't heard from them in a while. It's had to give out equal amounts of screen time when you have so many characters.
So, my NaNo encouragement for this chapter for all of you is from Pinterest, no author was included, feel free to let me know if you know it and I will adjust accordingly.-
"Write until it becomes as natural as breathing. Write until not writing makes you anxious."
Reviews are love, and best wishes to everyone gearing up for NaNoWriMo!
As Always,
EverReader
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox.
All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter Thirty Five
"We All Fall Down"
Bela picked up her throwaway cell phone, dialing the necessary numbers with deft precision.
"Gentlemen, did you acquire the merchandise?" She asked.
They wouldn't have, of course. She had purposefully given them a a description of an item so ludicrous that it couldn't possibly exist. A turquoise stone with four red dots on it, inside a green glass bottle, stoppered with a red hawk feather.
She had had to explain what color turquoise was, God help her.
But her true ends would have been achieved. There was no way John Winchester would not have implemented some kind of surveillance on his storage unit, and now that it had been breached, he would send someone to investigate.
Sam was betting that someone would be his brother Dean.
That would allow Sam access to the storage unit to look for their true goal, the last remaining journal of Samuel Colt.
"Well, about that, Lady..." The man began on the other end of the line.
She rolled her eyes. "I take it you failed? You are aware that you aren't paid unless you provide the merchandise you were sent to retrieve."
"Now, wait just a damn minute, lady. I don't know what kind of man that place belonged to, but it was full of all kinds of crazy shit. Bones and chests and boxes and books. I'm talking all kinds of crazy, but that's not the half of it. He had some kind of booby trap rigged up, with a friggin' shot gun full of rock salt. Tore Joe's shoulder all up."
"I'm afraid that's your own problem, gentlemen. I hired you under the impression that you were capable professionals, but obviously, I was misled. Good day." She smiled as she disconnected.
They had assumed John would have at least a few little tricks set up at his storage shed, and now she was even more glad Sam had insisted she use outside players.
Now, if he could just locate the damn journal, maybe their plan to stop that Hell-Bitch who held her contract.
She dialed a second number, one she had memorized, unwilling to program it in her phone for fear of discovery.
"It's Bela. It's done. I'd start making your way to Muncy."
Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural
Dean studied the storage unit in front of him with a sense of mild incredulity. He'd known intellectually, that John had to stash the object's he collected somewhere, at least until he could destroy them, but he'd never expected it would be someplace as mundane as Frank's 24-Hour Secure Storage.
Also, from just what Dean could see from the doorway, John hadn't been doing a whole lot of destroying in the past couple of years. The place looked like a supernatural arsenal, which was confusing as hell to Dean, because John had always stressed to him and Sam that the job wasn't finished until the danger was disabled. That meant finding whatever means were necessary, be it fire, holy water, or hoodoo spell it would take to destroy the cursed object.
Had John simply been to busy to take the time to do that vital last step? Or had he been saving these things on purpose?
Had he intended on using these things as weapons, using them to battle Azazel perhaps?
Dean had almost been amused by the time his and John's conversation the night before had finally segued to the original reason John had called Dean.
He'd needed a damn errand boy.
Someone had tripped the surveillance sensors in John's long term storage, and John's mission, being at a critical point (naturally), was to vital for John to follow up on the breach.
So he sent his good little soldier instead.
But now, looking at the dangerous items in front of him, Dean realized just how bad this could be, if something was taken.
He took a cautious step forward, and then another, knowing John was unlikely to have left the unit unprotected. John hadn't mentioned any booby traps to him, but then again, he'd probably expect Dean to handle anything like that on his own anyway.
He wasn't a particularly easy going parent.
Dean spied a desk towards one end, tucked away behind dusty shelving. Moving forward, he glanced curiously through some of the paperwork. John was notoriously secretive, many hunters were, underneath all the bluster and the bragging, but John was the worst by far. It wasn't unusual for Dean to have no idea what John was doing or hunting, at least, not since they had started hunting separately.
Surprisingly, the papers were a mix of professional and private, case notes, newspaper clippings, grade cards and immunizations records for the boys when they had been growing up.
Dean picked up first his, then Sam's, noting sadly that while Dean's had been filled out completely, at least the first four years worth, Sam's record contained more blank spots than entries.
John had never been too good at that kind of thing.
Dean spied a dusty trophy at the far end of the desk, and picked it up, heart sinking as he read the description. Sam had lamented the trophy's loss as a preteen. It was the one he'd been awarded after the one year he'd been able to complete an entire soccer season on one team.
The year he had spent several month's at Bobby's place, while Dean had been on lock down at Sonny's.
Dean swallowed hard as he set the trophy down, taking a step back without realizing it.
Suddenly, he felt himself flying to the left, a heavy weight behind him as he and his attacker crashed to the ground.
He reached for his knife instinctively as he struggled to flip around, but he assailant stilled his hand.
"Dean!"
Dean blinked, looking up in surprise. "Sam? What the hell are you doing here? You told me to stay away from you."
Sam pushed himself to his feet easily. "Saving your life." He replied curtly, gesturing to the wall behind where Dean had been standing only a few seconds before.
An arrow was lodged in the wood, at chest level, the shaft still quivering slightly. Following the arrow's most likely trajectory, Dean saw a crossbow lodged in the far corner, aimed for the desk.
"Fuck!" Dean cursed, angry at himself for needing saving yet again.
Sam knelt, looking along the floor. "Trip wire. Here. There was another by the door, but it must have already been triggered by the time you got here, or you'd most likely be full of rock salt by now."
"How do you figure? And that doesn't explain why you're here." Dean persisted.
"Blood. I can smell it. Human. And I'm here because Ava had a vision and called me. You and an arrow. Get the picture?"
Dean closed his eyes tiredly. "Yeah. Yeah, I get it. I owe you guys yet another one. Dad should have warned me."
"He's not really like that..." Sam murmured, looking with apparent disinterest at the paperwork Dean had been looking at only a moment ago.
He didn't even glance at the trophy, and Dean once again mourned the little boy who had begged to play soccer instead of learn bow hunting.
The irony.
"Dean, why are you here? Does John know?" Sam asked, looking over at Dean as he walked casually through the aisles of shelving.
Dean nodded. "He's the one who sent me. Someone busted in last night. Dad couldn't come..."
"Hmm." Sam replied noncommittally.
Sam knelt down again, near a small, dark stain on the ground. "Blood."
"Human?" Dean asked.
Sam nodded. "Yes. There's a shotgun aimed at the door. It didn't give you any problems, but someone wasn't so lucky. I take it this is Dad's long term storage?"
"What gave it away?" Dean asked sarcastically.
Sam shrugged. "I helped Bobby make some of these boxes." He gestured to the wooden chests lining the shelves.
"When?" Dean asked in surprise.
"A long time ago..." Sam said. "Any idea who it was, or what the wanted?"
"No." Dean said, coming to stand in front of one shelf, where a clean, rectangular outline could be seen on the shelf, devoid of the dust coating everything else. "But apparently, they found it."
"Well, that's...disquieting." Sam said, a thread of anger running through his voice.
"It's a problem that's what. These shelves aren't labeled. How the hell are we supposed to know what was here?"
"I'll look at the books over there. John might have kept an inventory." Sam said, moving over a few shelves.
"Okay, so, you saved me. Thanks and all. But really, Sam. Why are you still hanging around?" Dean asked suspiciously. Sam had been pretty adamant the other day that he wanted Dean to stay out of it, and yet here he was, literally walking back into Dean's life."
"Think about it Dean. You were attacked, John's gone in to hiding, now his storage unit's been breeched?" Sam replied, opening first one book then the other.
Dean's eyes narrowed. "What, you think this is demon related? They wanted something in here, or wanted to draw Dad out."
Sam shrugged. "It doesn't seem very likely that this was unrelated to current events. My guess is, demons put humans up to it."
"Great..." Dean murmured, scanning the other boxes. "How do these things work? Bobby sends them to me, tells me what to do, but I've never made one."
Sam shrugged again. "Some are fairly generic. Blessed wood and protection symbols. Some are more complex." He turned from the shelves. "No inventory here. Do you see any books anywhere else?"
"No. What a damn nightmare. Even if I could get Dad on the phone, I can't even describe the box to him."
"I may know someone." Sam said slowly. "A woman who handles...acquisitions. If someone is buying or selling, she would know."
"Well, look at you. Making friends." Dean snarked. "Well, what's wonder woman's name?"
"Talbot. Bela Talbot.
Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural
Lily studied her brother in concern. Max was sitting in the corner booth of the diner, face buried in the paper, but Lily knew better.
Max was a red alert. Every sense, every instinct keyed up.
And for the first time in over two hundred years, he was refusing to let her in.
Literally.
As soon as they had achieved a motel room a decent distance from where Max had been held, they had gotten a room. Max had spent a long time in the shower, nearly an hour, but Lily had allowed him that. They all had a deep appreciation for things like hot water.
Towards the end of their stint in Hell, they had still been prisoners, but they had also become pets, of sorts. Azazel's favorite little toys. They had long ago convinced Azazel that they were his, loyal and unwavering.
They had become the trustee's of the prison, able to come and go somewhat freely through Azazel's own personal compound in Hell, but there had always been the worry, the off-chance that Azazel would return from his work on the surface and decide to take it out on the arch-demons.
They had lost Julia that way, the arch demon simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, and even Sam hadn't gotten to her soon enough.
Lily's ability to kill had made her one of Azazel's favorite toys, but in exchange for the safety her skill afforded her, she was forced to use it at Azazel's beck and call.
That was when she had learned to run away, from her body, her mind, her memories. It was always easier when she was sleeping, but she could do it awake, like splitting her consciousness in two,as long as she was fairly near the other person.
Long after she had willingly given up the idea of contact with other people, unless she wanted them dead, she had managed to remember what it felt like, by riding along with one of her siblings.
Sam would allow it of course, having done it thousands of times in her childhood, but now that they were topside, it was no longer fitting, unless the situation made it necessary for some reason.
Andy and Anselm and Ava didn't mind either, but there minds were so busy it was exhausting, particularly her sister.
Jake's mind was safe, quiet, too, in it's own way, but stark. Black and white, focused only on forward motion.
Max's mind had been ideal, his sense of quiet sarcasm entertaining, but his mind calm enough that she didn't always feel like a leaf in a windstorm.
Additionally, the abuse Max had suffered at the hands of his human father and uncle long before the hell hounds had come for him, coupled with hell's hospitality, had left him abhorrent at the idea of physical touch either.
Both alone in there minds, they had naturally gravitated to each other, filling in the spaces left open and gaping in each others minds.
But now, there was a problem.
And it wasn't even Marcus. Marcus, surprisingly, had done very little to Max during his captivity. He had urged the humans under his control to have fun, though.
Somehow, the fact the humans were the ones who had once again harmed him, instead of demons, had broken something inside her brother.
And when she had tried to visit his mind, last night in the motel, she had found her entirely shut out. Even now, his mind was a locked vault to her, and he wasn't really the talk out loud kind of demon anyway.
Lily tried once again to push down her fear and anxiety and worry, but ever since she had discovered Max was gone, she had needed to talk to him, more than that, to feel him, in his mind, they way they had weathered so many other storms together.
But Max's mind had gone to darker places than he was willing to let her see.
"I'm going back to the motel." She said suddenly, standing up quickly. She felt like a rebuffed girlfriend, stereotypical and idiotic, and it pissed her off, because that wasn't what she was, wasn't what she and Max were to each other.
They were supposed to be each others safe harbors.
And a storm had just taken her's out of commission.
Max's eyes raised, locking onto hers. His lips compressed, thinning into linear shadows of themselves, but he remained silent.
She nearly flew out of the diner, purposefully turning in the opposite direction of the motel. She still felt like a leaf blowing wildly, out of control, and right now, she needed more open space than the motel afforded her.
The town was set on a series of hills, and she sought out high ground, feeling more like her dare devil sister than she did like herself.
On the far edge of town, one of the tallest hills had been butchered, sundered in half by a gravel quarry. It was obscene, in a way, one half of the hill still forested, trees swaying in the breeze, while the other side bled out pale gray stone, like exposed bone in a wound.
She quickly hiked up the forested side, taking comfort in the dark shadow's thrown over her by the trees. She could smell the pine, hear the leaves rustle, and she desperately sought calm, as she could feel power sparking from one finger to another, kindled by her anxiety.
She reached the hill's crest, and stood looking over the town.
The surface was the same as she remembered and yet very, very different. It had taken her a while to truly understand that she was the one different, was now seeing with different eyes.
The wind was stronger at the top, and she closed her eyes to let herself feel it.
She was a demon, a monster and most days she was fine with it. She had survived, after all.
But more than that, the thing that haunted her every waking moment, every second, was the fact that she wasn't just a monster.
She was an untouchable monster.
Hell had stripped away he ability to care about most things, and most times, her inhumanity lay along her mind like a soft, insulating blanket.
But seeing Max in that cage had ripped open a new wound, or perhaps a very old one, inside of her.
She hadn't even been able to help him dress his wounds. Her powers reacted to strong emotions (the only kind she really had left, after all.)
She hadn't been able to risk it.
As beautiful as the setting was, her emotional distress was causing her powers to react even more strongly, and she was glad she hadn't returned to the motel yet.
Sam they knew was immune to her particular gift. Others, though, hadn't been.
"Lily." The voice came from behind, and she turned in shock, both at Max's presence, and the sound of his seldom used voice.
It was rustier than usual, perhaps from the screams forced out of him while caged on the farm.
"I'll return later." She said as calmly as she could.
"Lily." Max repeated, almost chidingly, as he stepped closer.
She stepped back on instinct, he was too close for safety now, but she wasn't safe either.
She was too close to the damn edge.
Her eyes squeezed closed as she felt her center of gravity shift backwards, but immediately, she felt a strong pull forward.
She opened her eyes, expecting to see Max with his arms outstretched, having used his ability to pull her forward.
His hand was on her forearm.
"Don't!" She cried, trying to jerk away.
"You won't hurt me." He stated calmly.
"You don't know that." She insisted, still trying to tug out of his grip.
"Yes. I do." He replied.
"How?" She snapped, finally breaking loose.
"Because, Lily. Who do you think moves you from the car to the bed when your asleep, or riding someone to far away to do awake? Who do you think pulls up the blanket while you sleep?" Max snapped back.
She looked at him in horror. "You have powers, Max! You use your damn powers so I don't kill you like..."
"Like Julia?" He said, and she flinched.
"Yes."
"You were trying to help Julia. With what Azazel had down, she was going to die without help, and you were the only one there. He did it on purpose, just to watch you try. He frightened you, and your powers reacted." Max said sternly.
She shook her head. "Julia died because I touched her."
"Well, I won't. Either you won't hurt me, or I'm immune, like Sam." Max stated.
She shook her head mutely.
"Come on. It's cold." Max said, turning to walk back down the hill.
She lingered where she was for a moment, mind a crazy kaleidoscope as she tried to take in this new, frightening information.
Max turned back around, sighing. "I will put you over my shoulder."