Chapter 52

Antihero

Elyse stared at Cassandra like a parent would at a child after being asked, But if my eyes are covered then how can you see me?"

Cassie rolled her eyes, not ready to get into this entire discussion. "I don't have a way to prove it and I don't want – "

" – Cassie, I don't know where you got such an idea - "

"- Elyse, I said – "

" – God's Angels are in disguise, as homeless people or the elderly, stationed all throughout the world to test us, and our character."

Oh, Dear Lord. "Elyse, I love you but please spout your Sunday school bullshit at someone else. Angels dress in trench coats and leather jackets." Cassie held her face in her hands, mentally reminding herself not to punch her very pregnant, very annoying sister.

Sam kept driving, internally begging them both to stop.

He understood the frustration of trying to explain to someone from the outside how the world actually was. Sometimes it was damn near impossible, and the only way they'd understand was by losing someone they loved or witnessing dark forces firsthand.

They were never the same afterward.

"It's blasphemous to call yourself – " But Elyse froze, her eyes going wide.

Cassie turned her head to look at what she'd been staring at.

"This is the road," she said, "to the house."

Cassie took note of the fact that she didn't even claim the house as her own by saying "my house" or "home." She talked of the house as if it were an entity to be avoided and feared.

As they drove further and further down the road, more and more purplish/reddish flowers appeared in clusters along the sides.

"Posies," Cassie said, immediately suspicious.

Ring around the Rosie

A pocket full o' posies

Ashes, Ashes, we all fall down.

There was a file in the Men of Letters Archives she remembered reading concerning varying types of flowers, their uses in spell work and warding, and a brief history about each one.

She recalled the page on posies and how it related to the Black Plague.

The "ring of roses" describes the red buboes around the neck of an infected person (swollen lymph nodes); "posies" refers to the herbs or flowers that people carried in their pockets to breathe hoping it would protect them from the disease. "All fall down" describes the suddenness of death from what is today called "Black Death" or Bubonic Plague.

The scent of the posies had been used to mask the presence of death, and in the hopes that they could keep death at bay.

Cassie shot Sam a look from the backseat. He caught it in the mirror, and nodded, realizing where her mind had gone at the sight of the flowers.

Something's not right, she thought to herself.

Never mind the fact that of all flowers to be growing in abundance around here, they were posies, and they were the only flowers present…but it was also almost January.

There shouldn't have been anything growing at all.

They finally parked once they were in front of the house. A large, ominous presence on the property, surrounded by purple and red posies.

But despite all of the flowers, there was only one distinct aroma that stopped Sam in his tracks.

Cassie stepped out of the car and stiffened, covering her nose.

It was a scent of something rotting, death and decay.

Elyse didn't show a reaction to it, only continuing to exude a blank stare.

"You don't smell that?"

"It's awful, isn't it? I tried burning some of the flowers to get the smell to go away but they just came back," Elyse's eyes were losing focus and her voice was almost monotone.

"The smell isn't from the flowers," Sam muttered under his breath.

Ever since he'd started down Platt Drive, the hair on the back of his neck had stood up, and every fiber of his being was screaming to turn back and run.

Sam and Cassie gaped in shock.

The fields of posies went on for miles, completely encircling the property.

It was as if time was frozen sometime in mid-summer, but the smell of the flowers was near extinguished and it was freezing. The air was so thick it had its own atmosphere, making it difficult for Cassie to breathe.

It wasn't just the house that had something wrong with it.

It was the entire plot of land.


Metatron hummed joyfully as he tapped away on his typewriter, Gadreel glaring from the sidelines.

"My sources tell me you had the pleasure of making Cassandra's acquaintance?"

Gadreel stiffened. "Yes, I've met the Dual Wielder."

Metatron laughed. "Oh, she's hardly that anymore. Still…it might be beneficial to us to have her on our side."

Gadreel clenched his teeth, knowing the outcome of even suggesting it to her. "What gave you that idea?"

Metatron shrugged. "Well, even though her batteries are dead and her hard drive's been wiped, she's still an angel and every angel counts."

There's more, Gadreel thought to himself, but didn't respond.

"Tell me," Metatron began, feigning disinterest, "What was your first impression of her?"

Gadreel couldn't lie. "Compassionate. Kind."

Metatron nodded. "Oh. Well…someone who's compassionate, pathetic and homely might win the favor of the latter don't you think? People tend to root for the underdog, it's a classic motif in literature. Ordinary individuals see themselves in the average protagonist."

It's just as Castiel predicted, Gadreel thought. Metatron is starting to see her as a threat.

"That's a bit of a problem, however. The Angels will only follow one leader, and that leader will be me, not her."

"She is powerless."

"No, she isn't." Metatron finally looked up from his work. "She has all the power in the world to take down everything I've worked for. You think I don't see that? A mythological hero comes back from the grave, rallying the troops against me?! You give that half winged blue jay a sword, and that'd be it."

Gadreel didn't want to hear this, but he had to know. "So then what do you propose we do?"

"Well, there's something I have that she doesn't." Metatron smirked, picking up a book from his extensive collection. "Knowledge." He shook it in his hand for emphasis. "I know the building blocks that make up a story, and I, unlike her, know her place in this one."

Gadreel really didn't like where this was going.

"Because I'm the hero in this story…and Castiel is the villain…I'd say Cassandra could be our antihero. She lacks heroic qualities, but is still a notable figure in this Epic. And as such, we can treat her like a hero…for a time."

"I don't understand," Gadreel wasn't literature-savvy, but he didn't need an understanding of contemporary works to know this was going to end badly.

"Well when heroes are ripped from their world of what is "known" to cross the threshold into the unknown, they must first go through a crisis or tragic experience. Heroes make it through said experience stronger than ever, but since she is an anti-hero…she won't."


Cassie's hand flew to her neck, making sure her anti-possession pendant rested on her neck.

She felt sick.

"Elyse, did you buy the supplies I requested?" Sam asked, turning to her.

He wanted his rock salt shotgun.

And his iron fire pokers.

And more salt.

And every single tool he had to leave behind because of damn airport security.

Elyse nodded. "It's all in the house."

"Of course it is," Sam mumbled to himself. "Alright, the two of you stay out here, I'll – "

" – Hell no! You can't go in there by yourself. I won't let you," Cassie immediately burst out, rushing to his side.

Elyse stared at her in disbelief. Where was the shy young girl who read books all the time and didn't say two words at dinner?

"I don't even know what's in there, this is so…different from what we're used to. This whole place just feels wrong." Sam visibly winced, the rotting stench starting to make him dizzy.

All three jumped at the sound of a car suddenly pulling up.

Cassie turned around and her cheeks flushed at the sight of a very tall, very grumpy looking man.

Her brother.

He dropped his briefcase, his mouth gaping open wide. "Casper?" he asked.

Oh jeez, that nickname? Really? And it's really stupidly ironic now. "Hey Davey Jones," she waved awkwardly back.

"Well, damn…" his smile shifted instantly however at the sight of Sam. "Who are you?" He asked, his chest puffing out.

Cass had to bite her lip to keep from snickering.

Sam and David were the exact same height, so they met eye to eye.

Sam didn't want to fight, though. "I'm here to help. I'm not sure what's going on in this house, but you all have to leave this place as soon as possible."

David shook his head. "Who are you to tell me what to do on my own property? I've invested too much in this house to just – "

" – David, this place is infested. Or possessed, or whatever the hell. Something here is very bad and we need to go." Cassie tried to reason with him but she was already sensing that she was going to get some resistance.

"Oh, has Ellie been talking to you? Filling your head with the crazy stuff she's been – "

"LYSE IS NOT CRAZY, GHOSTS ARE REAL, THIS PLACE IS HAUNTED AND YOU NEED TO GET YOUR ASS OUT SO SAM AND I CAN SAVE IT!"

He stared at her blankly. "You…are my sister, right? Because the Casper I know – "

" – Please stop calling me that I'm twenty-two years old for god's sakes, not 16."

David sighed. "Look, if something really is going on here, then…" he looked back up at Sam, "Sam and I can go inside, check things out, and you two – "

" – Oh please, don't make this a Billy-Badass Men-only affair. You've never even shot a gun you misogynistic – "

" - What the hell do you know about guns and fighting?! Last time I checked the only time you ever hurt someone was when you used your copy of The Chamber of Secrets to kill a spider!"

Elyse shot Sam a look. "I guess some things don't change."

As the two continued to bicker head-to-head, Sam contemplated what do to. He didn't like the idea of Cassie being in harm's way…but she had more knowledge on the subject and she was definitely more likely to be the better fighter out of the two, gender and height aside.

Plus it was never, ever in anyone's best interest to split up two hunters. Hunters were always stronger together.

"Elyse and David, you two stay together, Cassie and I are gonna search the property, then head into the house. Grab any iron objects from your vehicles, don't risk going into the house."

David shot Cassie a, "What the hell is he talking about?" look, but she glared, making him roll his eyes and comply, making his way to the car.

Sam tilted his head to the side, beckoning her to follow him.

She uncapped the tiny vial of salt she had stored in her pocket, just in case.

Sam pulled out a flashlight as it started to get darker, flashing it around the grounds as they searched.

Cassie didn't exactly get a "hello, and welcome to our lovely home," vibe from the house, but her instincts were telling her that whatever she was looking for was outside on the grounds.

She followed closely behind Sam, barely breathing, rotating every so often to make sure they weren't being followed someone or something.

They made it to the edge of the property before it got deathly cold, but not from the weather.

A different kind of cold.

"Keep your guard up," Sam warned, feeling something coming on.

He veered a bit more to the left and suddenly got a whiff of something horrible.

Rotting flesh.

Cassie pulled her coat collar over her nose, her eyes starting to water.

As they continued on the smell grew stronger and stronger until they reached a burial site.

But the hole hadn't been finished.

Cassie gasped in horror and shielded her eyes, tears springing to her eyes.

There was a black trash bag, partially open to reveal the pale, half-eaten face of a dead Caucasian male.

A round-point shovel lie lifeless on the ground in the hands of another dead man, whose hand had swelled and tightened around it.

Flies swarmed and buzzed loudly over the rotting corpse in the garbage bag, the man with the shovel and another man, cocoa skinned lying face down.

"Holy crap," Sam muttered. "Cassie…" he didn't even know what to say.

Garbage-Bag man had probably been murdered and these two men were most likely members of a gang or mafia, trying to bury him.

But something stopped them.

And upon closer inspection, Sam discovered just what it had been.

In the hole that shovel-man started to dig, there was already occupants.

Three small skeletons, all lying on top of each other.

Since the bone structures were so small and dainty looking, they had most likely been children.

"Cassie, I'm so sorry you had to see this," Sam tried to compensate, but this was worse than anything he'd seen in quite a while.

He was about to pour the salt he'd kept in his pocket over the remains to burn them, but he froze at the sight of something white and shiny protruding out of the wall of the hole.

He handed the flashlight to Cassie, motioning for her to shine it on shovel-man.

She took a deep breath and with shaking fingers grasped its handle, pointing it so Sam could see.

"Hold on," he said, and used his foot to brace himself against the dead body as he pulled the shovel out of the corpse's vice-like grip.

He heard the crunching of bone and pulling apart of flesh and tendons before he finally got the shovel free and started to dig.


"I couldn't have staged it better myself," Metatron laughed, carefully neatening his pile of paper by banging it on his desk.

Gadreel still didn't quite get it. "I don't understand what her human siblings have to do with - "

" – When Ben Kenobi met Luke Skywalker and asked if he'd come to train with him, Luke refused. Even though Tattooine was a shithole of a planet and Luke had a boring, dull life as a Farm boy, he refused to cross the threshold into the unknown because he was unwilling to give up what was familiar to him."

Gadreel was able to understand this particular reference because Metatron "zapped" him with all of the episodes of Star Wars (except the Prequel series because those were awful.) "But Luke went on to train with Yoda and become a Jedi anyway."

"Yes, but what had to happen for him to finally leave his home planet?"

Understanding dawned on Gadreel's face. "You're saying – "

"Yes. I'd say our dearest Dual Wielder is due for another tragedy, don't you?"


After another twenty minutes of vigorous digging, Sam had to stop, taking a few steps back in shock.

The more he dug, the more corpses he found.

Skeletons, large and small, whole and in pieces, of all color variations, ages and conditions had all been buried here.

This wasn't just a cemetery or standard place of burial.

This was a dumping ground.

The entire property was probably laced with bodies. There was no way, even if they enlisted the help of the expecting Elyse and David, they could dig up every single grave to salt and burn them.

The bodies probably went on for miles.

It was impossible.

"Cassie, we have to grab what we can carry and get out of here now," he said in a rush, carrying the shovel in one hand and grabbing Cassie's in the other, beginning to run.

"Why were all those people there?" she sobbed, clenching her eyes shut, clinging to Sam as she ran.

Sam prayed they'd make it back to the couple in time. "Those guys were digging a grave but disturbed the graves of other people. They probably got attacked and killed by the ghosts of the skeletons we saw before they could finish."

"This is insane! There were so many, it just kept…" she couldn't finish.

"I'm gonna get you out of here," Sam promised. It was a few more minutes before they finally made it back to the house.

Sam checked his phone.

It was past eight o'clock.

"Dammit," he exclaimed, his eyes darting around the property, searching for Elyse and David.

"LYYYYYYSE!" Cassie called. "DAAAAAAVE!" She was starting to panic. What happened to them?

Elyse's warm smile and sunny blonde hair flashed in her mind, along with David's strong, stubborn glare and throaty laugh.

They were the only family she had left. She couldn't afford to lose them.

Cassie couldn't take the suspense anymore.

She already knew where they'd gone.

Cassandra ripped her hand free from Sam's grasp and bolted for the house.

"CASSIE STOP!" Sam yelled but she didn't listen. His heart stopped in his chest at the sight of her petite silhouette disappearing into the house.

Cassie's entire being told her to turn the other way but she couldn't. Even though every step she took felt weighted down with led, she could not leave behind her family.

Her voice was a shadow of what it had been just moments before. "David," she cried softly, "Elyse…." She stumbled through the dark house, searching aimlessly for a light switch but none of them worked.

Doors and windows were slamming and transparent figures kept appearing in her peripheral view but it didn't matter.

She needed to find them.

She screamed at the sight of Elyse being held up by her throat by a see-through man with black hair and a tux on. She was holding an iron pole but was frozen with shock, too frightened to use it.

"STOP!" Cassie cried, throwing her only vile of salt at the figure.

It vanished and Elyse crashed to the floor.

But it was too late.

Her soft blue eyes were empty and vacant, her gaze fixed on the doorway that served as her only exit.

Cassie was screaming but she couldn't hear it, the lights flickered and the floor creaked but all she knew was her dearest, darling sister lied limp in her arms and she would never be the Aunt that she was supposed to be.

She pressed a hand gently to her sister's stomach and sobbed, knowing in her heart it would have been a girl.

Why is this happening? How can God allow this? Why can't I do anything? I'm an Angel!

"You were right Elyse," Cassie sobbed into her own hand, clinging to her sister for dear life. "I'm n-n-not an Angel. Angels help p-people, but I couldn't do anything to help you."

"I was so stupid," she suddenly heard, Cassie falling over with the weight of what the voice meant.

Lying on the floor across the room was David, covered in blood.

"She was right the whole time, and I didn't listen," he gargled, coughing up more blood onto the floor. "Casper, you need to get out of here."

"I CAN'T LOSE BOTH OF YOU!" Cassie sobbed, crawling over to David with the strength she had left, pulling her phone out and dialing 911 with trembling fingers.

"It's too late for me, Sis. You know that. And I don't want to be anywhere else but here, with her," he glanced over at his wife's limp form, his eyes pooling with tears. "I failed. As a husband, as a brother…I'm so sorry, Cassandra."

Those were his last words before his eyes glazed over and Cassie was left surrounded in a room full of death and blood and empty eyes.

"NOOO! YOU CAN'T! I LOVE YOU!" She cried, curling up on the floor, unable to make herself stop.

And suddenly she opened her eyes and she was somewhere else.

It was hot, like she imagined California to be.

It was a college campus, crowded with groups of young people walking back and forth to their next class.

As she shakily stood up and glanced to her left, she saw him.

Sam.

But he looked different. He had a lightness to his eyes that she wasn't used to seeing. A boyish innocence and energy that lit up his whole face and put a skip in his step. Life hadn't caught up to him yet. His forehead didn't have lines of stress or worry, his hair was shorter and he wore a black hoody and dark wash jeans.

Weirdest of all, he was arm in arm with a giggling, happy blonde, who planted a kiss on his cheek with a carelessness that showed she'd never known any kind of hardship or pain.

Not like Cassandra.

"Hey there," a voice said.

She turned around to face the source.

Metatron stood there with his arms crossed and a smile on his face that made Cassie uneasy. "I think it's time you and I had a talk."