December 18 2008, Sioux Falls, South Dakota, United States
Bobby's House
Dean was sipping his first morning coffee studiously ignoring the miraculously recovered demi-Trickster.
You may ask, what she was doing to currently annoy Dean and the answer was very simple. As a Hunter, Dean had a lifetime's worth of experience hunting every weird and nasty thing that went bump in the night, and had developed the handy skill of feeling when eyes were on him.
Watching. Waiting.
It made the Hunter's skin itch, especially when it was done blatantly.
Like what Maya was currently doing. Just staring at him with her big golden eyes filled with mischief. He could just tell she was up to something, but he didn't know what and that knowing smile she was sporting wasn't helping.
At all.
Don't get him wrong, he was thrilled that she was up and about, but he could do without the relentless staring.
Green eyes moved from the kitchen wall stain he had focused on and flickered angrily over to curious, impish gold, "What? Why are you staring at me?! What are you planning, Goldy?!"
Sam tried to cover his snort while he drank his own coffee, only being successful in hiding his amused smile.
Dean's eyes flicked over to Sam's dark hazel ones, "Shut up, bitch!" he looked back at Maya, "Start talking twerp!"
Maya's coy smile widened as she batted innocent eyes at Dean, her voice sickly sweet and guiltless, "Whatever do you mean, Dean? I'm just staring at you."
Dean's eyes narrowed and he gave an aggravated hum, taking another sip of coffee and shooting another dagger filled look at a sniggering Sam.
Who was now also just staring at him intently, increasing the itchiness he was feeling underneath his skin.
He heard hard nails scrap against the linoleum floors and didn't even need to look to know that Puck was now sitting beside him and was staring up at him intently.
Dean was pretty sure if he were a cartoon he'd have a serious eye twitch going on and have at least one angry symbol throbbing above it. His chair scrapped as he abruptly stood, about to walk briskly out of the kitchen and away from his annoying bitch-ass siblings when Bobby's home phone went off.
They all shared curious looks, the annoying sibling routine forgotten as Sam went to the Wall of Phones and answered the ringing phone.
"Hello?" Sam answered, not expecting to hear a certain gruff Hunter on the other end of it. "Bobby? What's wrong? You left only like…30 minutes ago?"
Maya and Dean watched in concern as Sam's brow furrowed in confusion then one eyebrow went up in intrigue as he gave generic answers to whatever Bobby was telling him.
Maya leaned closer in Dean's direction and stage whispered, "It's like he's on a whole facial journey."
Dean snorted and Sam shot them an annoyed bitch-face, but got more snickering from them instead. It had just added to their joke.
"No, no, no you're right. It's definitely weird," Sam commented as his brow furrow went back to concerned interest. "Okay, Bobby. Thanks," Sam hung up the phone.
"What's up?" Dean asked curiously.
"Apparently Rufus caught wind of a possible case in Wyoming, but he's still busy on another case and Bobby's got that salt n' burn," Sam went into the den and came back with his laptop. "He wants us to go check it out."
Maya tilted her head in confusion, "I thought he wanted us resting up for the day? Wyoming's a couple of states over. It'd take us almost half a day to get there."
This didn't sound like something Bobby would change his mind over unless it was like the previous siren case where there were no other Hunters. Some of them had to have finished up their own cases by now, right?
"I'm with Goldy here," Dean nodded his head towards Maya. "Haven't one of the other Hunters out there finished up their cases already and are set to go for another one? Don't get me wrong! I'm all for a hunt, but Goldy just got better yesterday."
"Excuse you," Maya told Dean indignantly. "But if I recall, I was running circles around you two this morning. Or did you forget?"
"Well," Sam spoke up from his computer before Dean could get a word out. "For one it's only a possible job. Definitely weird enough for our standards. It's in a small town where no one's died in the past week and a half."
Dean gives the snarky Maya one last warning look before looking back at Sam, "That's so unusual?"
"Well, it's how they're not dying," Sam was busy typing away pulling up more information. "One guy with terminal cancer strolls right out of hospice, another guys gets tapped by a mugger and walks away without a scratch."
"Hospice centers and muggings? What kind of small town is this?" Maya commented unhelpfully with a raised eyebrow.
"Capped in the ass?" Dean takes a drink from his almost neglected morning coffee.
Sam read off an online article, "Police say Mr. Jenkins was shot in the heart at point-blank range by a 9mm. Got up and called a cab to the hospital."
Both Dean and Maya's eyebrows shoot to their hairlines. Puck gave his own surprised whine.
"And he's not a doughnut?" Dean asked in disbelief.
"Locals are saying it's a miracle," Sam shrugged, while Maya perked up a little.
"So you're saying he's now a…holey man after such a close call," Maya didn't fight the smirk that quirked the corner of her lips. The smirk broadened at the groans of imaginary pain from Sam and Dean at her pun. Even Puck let out a whine and put a paw over his eyes in shame.
Maya ducked away from the playful swipes aimed at her head, grimacing slightly in pain at her stiches pulling.
Sam and Dean gave her concerned looks.
"How're the stitches, Goldy?" Dean asked his face frowning as his eyes searched for anything else that might be wrong. She'd just recovered yesterday. Hell, just last night was when she got her strength back.
Him and Sam were allowed to be concerned.
She rolled her eyes, "They're fine. Little sore and tight, but nothing I can't handle." Maya gave them a reassuring smile, but getting less than convinced looks in return. Puck even gave a disagreeing grumble by her feet.
"If you're sure…" Sam trailed off uncertainly, questioning Bobby's wisdom for suggesting they take up this hunt. Maya gave an affirmative nod, ignoring Dean's narrowed and intent staring.
"Right, so people getting really really lucky?" Dean took his eyes off Maya and turned them back onto Sam. "That our kind of thing?"
Sam looked back at Dean with a bland stare, "In the heart and walked out of hospice. One in one town, sure. A couple here and there over the years? Yeah, okay. But both within the last couple weeks? I don't know. It's got to be something nasty, right?"
"Demon deals?" Maya suggested with a frown, uncertain how someone could make a deal for their life right after getting shot in the heart.
Sam asked earnestly, "What else would it be?"
"I don't know," Dean shrugged then looked back at Maya. "You got any ideas?"
Maya hummed as she thought, her mind bringing up some pagan gods who dealt with death, life, rebirth but the articles Sam read would've included other strange oddities other than not dying when they victims should've. Something that Sam would have told them as he was reading.
"Nothing that wouldn't have shown up in the articles," Maya said carefully. The whole situation was making her skin crawl. You can't just stop death for an entire town. She didn't want to think about the repercussions.
There was a pause of silence between before Sam quickly closed his laptop and nodded at Maya, "Go pack up. We're going." Completely forgetting about keeping her away from demons or possible demons.
Maya startled a bit and looked at Sam in surprise, "Really?" Dean was also giving Sam a similar look she was.
"Yeah, come on," Sam insisted not taking his eyes off of Dean, wanting to get to Greybull as soon as possible.
Maya looked between Sam and Dean, feeling the tension between them rising. She furrowed her eyebrows. She had picked up something between them last night and a little this morning but nothing this blatant. Something was going on between them and she didn't like it. Maya could almost see a wedge forcing its way between them.
Dean's green eyes looked at Maya and he motioned his head for her to go. She sighed with an eye roll, but complied and went to go grab her things. Not that it would take that long since she never had the chance to really unpack her backpack.
Y'know, because of an unfortunate demon blood poisoning mishap.
Puck followed behind her loyally. He didn't need to—nor was he inclined to—watch the two littermates get into it.
Once she was out of sight Dean turned back to Sam looking up at him from his seat.
Seeing Dean's face put Sam on guard, his shoulders tensing, "What?"
"Sure you want me going with you?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"I don't want to be holding you back or nothing," Dean threw out and took a sip from his coffee, frowning at the barely warm murky liquid.
"Dude, I told you last night," Sam sighed exasperatedly. "That was the siren talking, not me. Is this going to be a whole thing? Or can we move on?"
Dean gave Sam an assessing look. He stood up, emptying the cold coffee into the sink before turning back to Sam, "Yeah, okay. But what are we going to do about Goldy?"
Sam looked at him confused, "Well, we can't leave her by herself, so she's coming with us."
Dean scoffed at him, "It's not okay to leave her by herself, but it's fine that we're dragging her towards a possible crossroad demon instead?"
"We can ward the room and she literally has a demon killing dog," Sam pointed out with an impatient shrug.
"She just recovered from being poisoned by demon blood and you want to take her on a hunt that could involve more demons?" Dean demanded incredulous. "Bobby will fillet our asses and then roast them extra crispy."
"He wouldn't have given us the case if he thought Maya was in any danger from demons."
Dean clenched his jaw, knowing Sam was right. But did Bobby know that this might be a demon case? He doubted Bobby would send it their way if he did knowing they'd take Maya with them.
"I don't like it," Dean grunted crossing his arms defiantly.
"I don't either but after stopping that last seal it just proves what we sometimes forget. That we don't always know what we're getting into," Sam grimaced as the memory of Maya's eyes rolling into the back of her head and collapsing assaulted his mind. "Besides, wouldn't it be better to have her with us so we can have her back?"
Sam and Dean held each others' gaze, holding a silent conversation before Dean relented.
It was either bring her along or leave her alone in Sioux Falls. It was doubtful any demon knew where Bobby lived or that Maya was there, but Dean did concede to Sam's point. It'd be better to have her with them so they could have her back.
Dean just hoped this case wouldn't end in disaster like the fake-vampire case.
His gut twisted in guilt for having let that happen to the spunky girl.
Dean opened his mouth to answer Sam when Maya and Puck popped back into the kitchen, a bag slung over her shoulder. Maya looked between them curiously and worriedly at their tense stances.
"You ready, Goldy?" Dean asked, not acknowledging the way Sam relaxed at his unspoken agreement.
"Uh, yeah?" Maya's eyes were narrowed, a good sign to the brothers that she suspected something was up and it was annoying her. "And are you two? Or are you both still having a chick flick moment?" her smirk turned into a playful grin as Dean frowned at her and tried to playfully grab at her.
She easily danced out of his reach with a laugh and ran out the door towards the impala, ready to get this show on the road.
.
Random Gas N' Sip…
"Come on you two!" Dean shouted from the impala that was parked outside the Gas N' Sip they pulled into for fuel, bathroom breaks, and some snacks—AKA a less than healthy lunch, much to Sam's chagrin. "Daylights burning!"
"You better not have Mexican food in there, Sam! You know how gassy Mexican food makes you!" Dean warned like the asshole big brother he was as Sam approached with a plastic bag in his hand, hissing Dean's name as his face and neck went red with embarrassment. "Well, the last thing Goldy needs is dying from your mustard gas quality ass bombs," Dean grinned when Maya laughed as she and Puck followed Sam back to the car.
"You're such a jerk, Dean. You know that?" Sam snarked bitchily as he walked by an overly pleased Dean and went to the front passenger side door, while a giggling Maya clambered in the back with Puck.
"Better than being a little bitch," Dean sniffed indignantly, but the effect was lost at the shit-eating big brother grin that sported his freckled face. He put the impala in drive and pulled out of the gas station.
Despite the cold winter weather of December, a couple hours in a constantly heated car usually negated the need to keep wearing a coat so Maya shrugged it off. The glint of gun metal grey and mostly burnt sigils catching Sam's eye in the rearview mirror.
Sam—in his infinite curiosity—twisted his torso to look over at Maya and the metal cuffs she still wore.
"Hey, Maya, I've been wondering," Maya gave him a questioning hum, wondering what he wanted, noticing the familiar curious glint in his eyes. "How come they're not hidden anymore?"
Maya tilted her head at him then looked at one of her power suppressing bands in thought.
"The hell if I know," Maya shrugged, getting a snort from Dean who had been listening. "I-I think I can access some of my power, though. So, I guess they're weakened?"
"Weakened?" Dean asked, keeping his eyes on the winter road.
"I can feel some of my old magic, but…" she frowned in concentration; a brief glimmer of purple light ringed her pupils for a moment. Not enough to see anything, but more than she had been able to do in months. Which was nothing before.
"It's hard. Like trying to lift a heavy weight with too weak muscles. I move it a little off the ground but it takes so much effort and before I can pick it up all the way, I crap out and drop it," she gave a sigh.
"That sucks, Goldy," Dean commiserated, not noticing the way Sam gave him a side-glance.
Remembering how little Dean was bothered by Maya's powers, but with his…Sam pushed away the slight jealousy that welled up inside his chest.
"Yeah, sorry to hear that," Sam gave her his own sympathetic smile. "But, if it's like a muscle then maybe if you practice you can get them back?" he suggested trying to be helpful.
Maya held up the stylized cuffs with a strained and chagrined grin, "My bad. Let me rephrase. It's more like pushing against a wall."
"Couldn't hurt to try, right?" Maya gave Sam a thankful smile, but it quickly turned into an affectionately annoyed sigh when he asked about the meaning of all the symbols on the cuffs.
Dean coughed with a mocking smile, "Nerd."
.
Greybull, Wyoming, United States
The Broken Saddle Motel
Late that evening…
To say the motel they snagged was…well, that was to say it was…
It was crap. Plain and simple.
Sure it had the standard kitchenette, two beds, a table and chairs, but the glaring reminder that not all of them were the same gender was brought to the forefront when it didn't have a proper walled off bathroom. It was one big room with no closet doors and a joke of a bathroom area with a half wall-half peeled and dirty turquois wooden archways. The shower—just some tiles and a curtain and not enclosed—was also heavily stained and hadn't seen a good scrubbing in ages. The toilet tucked a little out of sight beside it and beside the half wall partition.
You could be on the john and still carry a conversation with everyone else in the room.
When Dean had seen Maya's unimpressed and disgusted face at the washroom situation he had smirked and told her it was still not the worst motel him and Sam had ever stayed in. Dean's chuckling at her disbelief and horror quickly died, however, when she told him and Sam to avert their eyes because she had to go and had been holding it in for the last hour.
Talk about an awkward 5 minutes.
Sam had gone out to grab some dinner for them, taking an hour to grab some basic Chinese food. Maya had been too distracted with whatever grainy TV show she managed to get on the small, precariously mounted box TV to notice how long Sam was gone for. Or to realize that it was a bit too long for a simple Chinese take-out run.
Dean, however, did and had frowned at the motel room door a few times in suspicion and concern until Sam came back. Sam had given the excuse that there had been a back up of orders.
Maya had joked about him actually getting lost and was making excuses, earning a scoff and a chuckle from Sam as she pulled the containers from the take-out bags.
Dean had noted a bit of underlying nervousness in that laugh. Something was going on with his brother, something Sam wasn't telling him and it put him on edge.
.
December 19 2008, Greybull, Wyoming, United States
The Broken Saddle Motel
Next day…
Their interview with Jim—the man who survived being shot in the heart—was not as enlightening as they'd hoped. They'd gone in posing as bloggers for a religious site and had to leave when Sam got a little too forceful when he asked about Jim meeting anyone with black or red eyes. That's when Jim decided to ask them which blog they wrote for, getting suspicious.
Sam had volunteered to go talk to the guy who walked out of hospice, while Dean and Maya went back to the motel to look up some more information. It wasn't long before Sam came back to Dean on his computer and Maya looking over his shoulder. Puck lounged on Dean's bed.
"Hey," Sam closed the motel door behind him.
"Anything?" Dean asked as him and Maya looked at the enlarged image of one Cole Griffith.
"That cancer survivor? He was clinically dead, his wife pulled the plug," Sam told them. "And now he's taking her out for their 20th anniversary."
"Any signs of demonic dealings?" Maya drawled as she straightened her spine and took her eyes off the recently deceased kid.
Sam snorted at her word choice, "No."
"Any sign of anything supernatural or weird, other than the obvious?" Maya frowned as she racked her brain for an answer.
"Nope, nothing. Just, woke up and walked out," Sam shrugged unhelpfully. "Why? You guys find anything? Or, anyone actually dying around here?"
"Kind of yes to the second one," Dean looked back at the Greybull Gazette website. "No one's died since Cole Griffith, and he died 10 days ago. Last death we could find."
"So, what are you guys thinking?" Sam asked, equally as stumped as Maya.
"Eh, maybe it is what people say it is," Dean got up from the table and headed over to the questionable coffee maker.
"Miracles?" Sam scoffed as he took Dean's place at the table and laptop. "In our experience, when do miracles just happen?"
"I'm with Sam, Dean," she nodded her head towards Sam, leaning against the table beside him. "Something's not right here."
Dean splayed his arms out from his sides in a helpless gesture, "Well, there's no deals. No skeevy faith healers. I mean, these souls just ain't getting dragged into the light."
Light bulb flashed in Maya and Sam's brains at Dean's off hand comment.
"You're right. They're not," Maya said with dawning realization.
"Because there might be no one around to carry them," Sam finished her train of thought.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah! It fits. No deals, no questionable faith healers, no other outward signs of anything else supernatural going on. So likely no pagan deities involved either," a pleased satisfied grin plastered itself across her face as the puzzle fell into place.
Sam looked over at Maya with approval, "It's what they do. So, if they're not around then no souls are being collected and one's dying."
"But then, what happened to them?" Maya frowned worriedly.
Dean had just stood there staring at the two of them while they had their geek out session before speaking up, "What are you two talking about?"
The two young nerds turned their attention back to Dean, remembering he was there and belatedly that he might not be on the same wavelength.
"Grim Reapers, Dean," Sam enlightened his brother. "They schlepp souls. So if death ain't in town…" Sam led, giving his brother a chance to fit the pieces together him self.
Dean might not be book nerd smart like Sam, but he wasn't an idiot either and quickly caught on, "Then nobody's dying. So, what? The local reaper's on strike? Playing the back nine? I don't know guys," Dean took a swig of his—I'd like to say coffee but…in all honesty, let's just call it brown caffeinated water.
"It's the best lead we got, Dean," Maya barely suppressed the groan at Dean skepticism, but not the rolling of the eyes. Some things were just beyond her control.
"Best way to find out is to talk to somebody who might know what's going on," Sam looked back at the computer screen and the last person to die in Greybull.
"Well, last time I checked, Huggy Bear ain't available," Dean quipped and took another sip of his brown caffeinated water.
Sam shook his head in exasperation while Maya gave an amused grin.
"No, dude, the kid," Sam nodded back to the computer.
"The kid?" Dean asked incredulously. "The kid's a doornail."
Maya rolled her eyes, "That's the point, Dean. If he's the last person to die around here then maybe he's seen something."
"So, we should talk to him," Sam was glad he had at least one person backing him up and treating him like an adult.
Dean chuckled, "I love how matter-of-fact you two are about that. Heh, strange lives." He took another drink from his colored caffeinated water.
.
Greybull Cemetery
Few hours after nightfall…
They had perused the graveyard earlier in the day to get a sense of where Cole Griffith's grave was. So when they came tonight they had a good idea of where it was in the inky blackness of nightfall.
Sam had taken out some rolled leather with the required symbols drawn on and began setting up the ritual to summon Cole's ghost to them. Maya was squatting beside him to help arrange everything. It wasn't much, just a few candles and some herbs, a bronze bowl or two.
Puck sat on the lightly snow covered ground beside Dean, watching the proceedings and looking around at the empty cemetery.
Dean, meanwhile, was dis-respectively sitting on top of a headstone of another grave, reading the leather bound hunting journal of their father and the ritual they were performing. He then looked up at them with an uncertain frown.
"You sure this is gonna work?" he asked, Sam the only one pausing to look up at his brother, his face illuminated by the lit candles. Maya carefully placed a prepared bundle of herbs in the center of the ritualistic summoning circle.
"No," Sam admitted as he poured some other ingredients into bronze bowl. "But if his spirits around this should smoke him out."
Dean snapped the book shut and looked away, shaking his head at the current job they were working and the predicament it put them in.
Maya took her eyes off their work to look up at Dean curiously as Sam asked, "What?"
"This job is jacked, that's what."
"How so?" Sam asked, wondering what Dean was talking about.
"You want me to gank a monster or torch a corpse, hey. Pfft! Lets light it up, right?" Dean shrugged. "But-but-but this? If we fix whatever this is, people are gonna start dropping dead. Good people."
Maya wisely kept her mouth shut, understanding where Dean was coming from. He'd spent pretty much his whole life trying to save people, but fixing whatever was going on was as good as pulling the trigger him self. Even if they weren't supposed to be alive in the first place, it'd be like they killed them, instead of them just fixing the natural order of things.
It sucked, but Maya knew better than to mess around with death. Something she knew both Winchesters struggled with when it came to each other.
Case in point, Dean's demon deal.
Although in that instance, Maya could admit to her self that she'd have been extremely tempted to make her own deal for her big brother figure. If she hadn't been so grief stricken and under the careful watch of her Dad.
Sam pushed against his knees and stood up, "Look, I don't want them to die either, Dean, but there's a natural order."
Maya couldn't stop the snort that escaped her, earning the two Winchesters eyes zeroed in on her.
She met their expectant stares with a bland one of her own, "What? Can't see the irony in what you just said, Sam? You two, are like the poster boys of The Unnatural Order. All you guys do is ditch death."
"Exactly!" Dean agreed his eyes locking onto Sam's.
"But those rules don't really apply to us, do they?" Sam said in all seriousness. Maya looked up at Sam, raising an eyebrow in disbelief while Dean gave his own small chuckle to voice his own disbelief.
"We're no different than everybody else!"
Sam's lips quirked the smallest smidge upwards in surprise amusement at his brother's disregard of the glaringly obvious.
That they were very much different than everybody else.
"I'm infected with demon blood. You've been to Hell," Sam turned and motioned a hand at Maya. "She's a half-human, half pagan Trickster god and has a highly intelligent, size shifting, demon killing dog," Dean turned his head away from Sam. "Look, I know you want to think of yourself as Joe the plumber, Dean, but you're not. Neither is me or Maya—"
"Oh, I'm well aware that I'm not," Maya commented behind Sam's back, but he just continued talking earning an unseen eye roll from her.
"The sooner you accept that, the better off you're gonna be," Sam finished as Dean cast his eyes to the night sky annoyed at Sam's lecturing.
"Ah, Joe the plumber was a douche," Dean sighed ready for this conversation to be over and knowing Sam would take it as a sign that Dean wasn't going to be receptive to his words.
Sam gave a sigh, "You guys going to help me finish this?"
"Give me the La—" Maya started but was cut off as Puck all of a sudden stood up, growling at the grounds keeper approaching with a large flashlight. "Oh shit."
"Hey!" the man yelled at them, his beam flashing on the small snarling dog. "What are you doing here?"
Maya looked at Puck, his hackles up and on the verge of transforming. She knew the signs her dog was giving and her gold eyes quickly locked back onto the thin haired, blue-eyed man that slowly approached them.
"Christo," Maya said with a fake sense of calm.
The man flinched.
A terrible grin soon plastered itself across his face as Sam and Dean tensed at the appearance of the demon.
"Oh, my pretty little Trickster-ling," the demon's grin widened even as Puck quickly transformed and put himself between Maya—and subsequently Sam—and the approaching Hell spawn. "You're no fun. No fun at all," the eyes-rolled all the way into the back of his head, turning to look at a very tense Dean.
"Alastair," Dean said tightly, identifying the demon as his eyes returned to normal. "I thought you got deep-fried, extra crispy." Sam breathed heavily as his rage was building for the demon that tortured his brother
"Nah," Alastair shook his head. "Just the pediatrician I was riding. His wife's still looking for him. It's hilarious," he turned back to a glaring Sam. "Anyway, no time to chat. Got a hot date with death," Alastair looked at Dean and flicked a wrist, sending Dean flying in the air into a tombstone, knocking him unconscious.
"Dean!" Sam and Maya cried out helplessly before Alastair quickly turned back to them, flicking his wrist before Puck got a chance to sink his glowing teeth into the demon. Maya went flying with a yelp, smacking her head on one of the few large border trees, getting knocked out herself.
Puck, hearing his Mistress' cry turned to see her prone form in the snow at the base of the tree. The scent of her blood tickling his nose. He quickly ran in front of her and stood his ground in a defensive stance.
Sam hadn't been flung. He stumbled, and stumbled again when Alastair tried flinging him again but other than that he didn't move.
"Ooh, you're stronger, Sammy. No where near I thought you'd be, but," Alastair grinned a toothy smile, "You must've had fun solo flexing with your little slut."
Sam let his hate and anger well up inside him, "You have no idea." He flexed his power and with a swipe of his arm pushed Alastair back and put him off balance. Sam didn't give Alastair a chance to regain his balance before sending another telekinetic shove at the demon and impaling him on a low hanging and broken branch.
He raised his hand to start pulling the demon out of the meat suit, ready to tell Puck to pounce on the black smoke when Alastair beat him to it. Black smoke poured out of the now dead body and fled into the sky, narrowly missing Puck's jaws when the dog ran forward and jumped into the air to try and get the damned demon.
Puck growled at the missed opportunity to tear the demon to shreds. His eyes followed the path of the smoke until it disappeared beyond the trees that interspersed the cemetery. They then fell to Sam as he approached Maya after quickly checking on Dean.
Puck gave a warning growl and narrowed his eyes at the frozen man who now looked at him wide-eyed.
Sam had been careful with his dealings with Ruby when he'd meet up with her. He had kept a wide berth of the little dog until he showered or at the very least cleaned his clothes. Sam hadn't been sure how the supernatural dog would react to the scent of demon on him.
The angry eyes and warning snarl that flashed the giant dog's impressive array of teeth answered that for him.
"I swear, I mean her no harm," Sam held out a placating hand, looking and sounding sincere. "She's like my sister."
Puck took one step towards him with what could only be described as an accusing bark, his eyes flicking between Sam and Maya pointedly.
Sam had assured her. Promised her!
Maya had told Puck the promise he'd made her about not turning into 'vengeful Sam' and letting go of his need to seek vengeance on Lilith, lowering the risk of Sam becoming something he swore he'd never be again. She'd been so happy.
"I-I'm not explaining myself to a dog," that earned an offended huff from Puck. "It's either I do this so we have an edge or-or we have another incident like the one just a few days ago!" Sam breathed heavily as he stared down the unflinching gaze of the Heavenly Hound. "I-I don't want to see her like that again, and…and I don't want Lilith to get anywhere near her. I'm doing this for them," Sam's gaze drifted between Maya and Dean. "I won't lose them again."
Puck's stare was piercing.
Assessing.
He gave an uncertain grumble as he shrunk down and quickly ran over to Maya, gently nuzzling her face, thus dismissing Sam.
Although, Sam had the distinct feeling that the dog wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily.
Hearing Dean give a groan as he came to, Sam rushed over to help him up and check for a concussion.
As Sam gave a short edited version of what happened between him and Alastair, Puck's attention was fully on Maya as she began coming to as well.
Puck nosed her cheek, and then licked the side of her face happily as she groggily pushed her self up onto her knees. She groaned in pain, gripping the side of her head with one hand while petting Puck to calm him down.
Sam came over to help her up, Dean staggering a little behind him. His concussion wasn't doing him any favors.
Maya hissed as Sam grabbed her arm and got her to her feet.
"Maya you okay?" Sam asked worriedly.
"I think some of my stitches ripped," she moved her jacket enough for them to see some blood had started seeping through. Not a lot, but enough to need being looked at.
"C'mon," Sam gently pulled Maya's arm. "Let's get you two back to the motel and looked after."
"I'm driving," Dean grunted stubbornly.
Sam sent him an annoyed bitch face as he helped Maya stay up right, "Dean, you know the rules. If you're concussed, no driving."
The two bickered back and forth right until they got to the impala and Sam practically had to shove Dean in the passenger seat.
Puck had followed behind them, keeping a watchful eye on Sam. For now, and for the foreseeable future.
The little dog wished now more than ever that he could properly communicate his thoughts to his Mistress, so he could tell her what he'd learned.
Puck hopped into the back of the impala with Maya while Sam won the argument by practically shoving Dean into the passenger seat, getting a mumbled 'bitch' for his efforts in preventing them from the possibility of wrapping around a tree.
Maya held Puck in her lap, petting his body and giving him hugs. His tail wagged happily at the attention.
But his small eyes never left the back of Sam's head.
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The Broken Saddle Motel
Almost midnight…
Sam first treated Maya's stiches in the open bathroom when they had stumbled into their less than sanitary looking motel room. Sam and Dean adverted their eyes as Maya shrugged off half her shirt to expose the healing scratches and lightly oozing stitches, and then held a towel over her chest. Sam carefully treated them, and gave them a splash of alcohol before putting gauze over top—just in case. Thankfully they weren't bad, as none had popped out. He checked her head and reflexes and found she only had a very mild concussion and only a large goose egg of a bump forming on the back of her head.
Maya had given a sarcastic cheer for miracles when Sam pointed out how lucky she was.
After getting Dean and Maya some ice for their heads, Sam had stepped out to talk to Bobby.
Maya had changed into some pajamas and carefully flopped down on her stomach next to a groaning Dean as he held his icepack to his head. Maya balanced hers on the back of her own head.
"How you doing sweetheart?" Dean grunted, not even turning his aching head to look at her.
"Better than you apparently," Maya quipped then proceeded to almost crack her jaw with a large yawn, her eyes drooping. "'Though I'm ready to call it a night," Puck jumped up onto the bed and curled contentedly into her side. Maya reached a blind hand and awkwardly petted the small dog, getting a happy sigh in return.
"Then conk out, Goldy," Dean suggested. "Whatever Bobby's got to say I'll let you know when you wake up."
When Dean didn't get an answer he peeled one eye open—not having noticed when he had closed his eyes—and carefully turned his head to look at her. Maya's face was turned away from him on the pillow she rested her head on, but the slow rhythmic rise and fall of her back told him she'd already gone off to dreamland.
It wasn't long before Sam walked into the room with a leather bound book in his hand, and chuckled at Dean and Maya of them, "How're you two doing?"
Dean didn't bother sitting up and groaned, "I'm in pain, that's how I'm doing. Goldy's out for the night." A brief pause, "I think I have a concussion."
"Want some aspirin?" Sam offered as Dean sighed with the effort it took to actually sit up and look at his brother.
"No thanks, House," Dean let his hand with the ice pack fall from his head. "So, demons, huh?"
"Yeah. So much for miracles," Sam scoffed.
"And, what the hell happened with Alastair again?" Dean asked. His brain had still been a little fuzzy when Sam had told them the first time at the cemetery.
"I told you," Sam shrugged coolly, gesturing with the book in hand as he walked to the coffee/brown caffeinated water station. "He tried to fling me or whatever, and it didn't work, so he bailed."
Dean's face gained a look of confusion, "Well, how come he couldn't fling you? He chucked you pretty good last time."
Sam gave another shrug, not letting Dean's suspicious stare get to him, "Got no idea." Sam turned away from Dean and started fiddling with the coffee maker.
"Sam, do me a favor," Sam turned back to look at him with a confused frown. "If you're gonna keep your little secrets, I can't really stop you. But just don't treat me or Maya like idiots, okay? She might not see it yet, but she ain't stupid either," Dean nodded over his shoulder at the dozing Trickster. Sam's eyes flickered to her peacefully slumbering form and then met the knowing gaze of the little dog that stared back at him.
"What? Dean, I'm not keeping secrets," Sam flickered away as Puck's bottled jolted from a silent huff, before looking his brother in the eyes again. Puck laid his head back down and nuzzled his muzzle into Maya's side.
"Mm-hmm," Dean hummed, clearly unconvinced but dropped it. "Whatever. So, did you go back and Q-and-A the dead kid?"
Coffee maker forgotten, Sam latched onto the subject change, "Didn't have to. Bobby called," Sam held up the book he'd been carrying. "Did some digging," he sat down on the other bed facing Dean.
"And?" Dean probed.
"He thinks I'm right," Sam said a little smugly. "Local reapers gone. Not just gone, kidnapped."
"By demons. Why?" Dean knew he probably didn't want to know the answer but knew that it was important nonetheless.
Demons…Bobby was going to kill them.
Dean then realized that Bobby had to know they were now chasing demons. So why hadn't he made a big stink about Maya's safety yet?
Before he could ask Sam his brother continued as he opened the notebook, "Listen to this: And he bloodied death under the newborn sky. Sweet to taste, but bitter when once devoured."
"Swankie," Dean commented. "The hell does that mean?"
"Well, it's from a very obscure, very arcane version of Revelations," Sam told him with a sigh.
"Which means what I think it means?" dread and trepidation pooled inside of Dean as he momentarily forgot why Bobby wasn't on his way to bust their asses.
"Basically, you kill a Reaper under the solstice moon—tomorrow night by the way—you've got yourself a broken seal."
"You've got to be kidding me," Maya groaned at Sam's conclusion, making Sam and Dean startle a little.
"Thought you were sleeping?" Dean frowned, wondering how much she had heard.
"You two ain't exactly quiet," she huffed annoyedly.
"Sorry Maya," Sam said, giving her apologetic puppy eyes. "How—how much did you hear?" he asked, hiding his worry.
Maya removed the soaking ice pack and carefully sat up. Not careful enough to stop the sharp sting of protesting and tender stitches though. "That Bobby for some inexplicable reason thinks you're right," Maya gave Sam a mock be fuddled look that turned into a smirk at the less than amused bitch face he sent her way in return. "And that killing a Reaper means that we're one step closer to Armageddon," she said in a more serious tone.
"'Bout sums it up," Dean grunted with a nod. "But, I want to know how you can ice a Reaper. You can't kill death," his eyes flickered between Sam and Maya worriedly.
"Have the right tools and you can kill anything," she shrugged. "Not sure what can kill a Reaper though."
Sam shifted on the edge of his motel bed and tossed the notebook on the bed spread beside him, "And maybe the demons know how. But where the hell are the Angels is what I want to know. We could use their help for once."
Maya hummed noncommittally. She'd rather be as far away from those flying assholes as possible, but, yeah they could use their help.
Didn't mean she had like it though.
"Looks like we're gonna have to take care of this one ourselves," Dean picked up his still cold ice pack
"What are we gonna do? Just swing in and save the friendly neighborhood Reaper?" Sam quipped sarcastically.
"You wish you were Spiderman awesome," Maya snorted.
Dean rolled his eyes at their comments, "If you two got a better idea, I'm all ears."
Sam gave a breathless huff and pointed out the obvious, "Dean, Reapers are invisible. The only people that can see them are the dead and the dying."
Maya did not like the thoughtful look across Dean's face.
"Well, if ghosts are the only ones that can see them…" he paused, the plan taking shape in his mind.
"Yeah," Sam didn't know where his brother was going with this but the stony look Maya was sending Dean did bode well.
"Dean—," Maya said warningly, but Dean cut her off
"Then we become ghosts," Dean put the ice pack back on his head, not looking at the glower Maya sent him and the volumes it spoke of her disapproval of his suggestive remark.
"Like I told you back at the cemetery. You do have a concussion," Sam couldn't believe what Dean was suggesting.
"Plus a couple of extra screws loose," Maya added with a disapproving frown. She wasn't sure what Dean was concocting in that concussed brain of his, but if he suggested something stupid like temporarily stopping hearts—she was going to give him a worse headache than the one he was feeling right now.
Temporarily or not, she didn't want either Sam or Dean dead for any length of time.
"Sounds crazy, I know," Dean said with a satisfied smirk at his oh-so-cleverness.
"It is crazy," Sam regarded Dean curiously, wondering how he thinks they could pull it off. His eyes flickered briefly to Maya who looked ready to clobber Dean herself if she didn't like what she heard. Curiosity propelled Sam to ask, "How?"
Dean's smirk widened, "I was thinking along the lines of that technique thing-y. Y'know, the one where you can send a ghost version of yourself anywhere while not kicking the bucket?"
"Astral projection?" Maya queried with a thoughtful frown. Still risky if done wrong but at least it wasn't heart stopping-ly risky.
"Exactly," Dean grinned broadly at them, proud of his clever idea.
Sam's face was thoughtful but he recognized a certain snag, "Dean, I don't think any of us know how to do astral projection."
"I know I don't," Maya frowned thoughtfully as she tried to rack her brain for anything that could do something similar but coming up empty.
Dean's face didn't once lose its confident smile, "That's why we bring in the expert in communicating with the Spirit World. If anyone's gonna know how to do this, it'll be Pamela."
"I'm pretty sure she said she was done with all this angel-demon crap," Maya pointed out, remembering her first and last encounter with the blind psychic.
Dean sent her a charming smirk, "Aww c'mon, Goldy. No woman can deny these charms or my dashing good looks, let alone both at once." He gestured vainly to himself with a broadening and self-assured smile.
Beat of poignant silence as Sam and Maya looked at Dean expectantly, waiting for him to realize what he just said. Thankfully it didn't take long when his face fell.
"Oh, right," he winced with a guilty frown. A frown that turned into a glare at the smug and judging stares he was getting, "Oh, shut up!"
.
December 20 2008, Greybull, Wyoming, United States
The Broken Saddle Motel
Early Afternoon…
For a small town with a hospital and hospice it surprisingly lacked bus/train stations for cross country travel. Maya was sure she'd yet to see any sign of a Greyhound driving through yet. Dean that morning had pleaded and cajoled with Pamela over the phone till she caved and bought a bus ticket to the closest town to Greybull, Wyoming.
Which was Buffalo. A good two hour trip.
Sam and Maya both agreed since it was Dean's idea—and he was mostly recovered from his mild concussion—that he could make the butt numbing trip.
For those few hours without Dean, Sam and Maya didn't really do much other than hangout in the room. Sam scrolling through the internet for something while drinking periodically from a silver flask he had, and Maya trying to entertain herself.
Her favorite way—at the moment—was by annoying Sam and trying to see how many 'bitch'-faces he had.
Sadly, she would never know.
The poor guy caved just after the half-hour mark and with an annoyed bluster had asked her to find something else to do and then suggested flexing her powers. See what she could and couldn't do now.
Maya had shrugged and decided to do just that—in an ironic turn of events—got Sam off his computer to now watch her and offer his suggestions.
First order of business? Seeing someone's heart and soul.
Sam had suggested looking out the second story motel room window for that one, a little nervously. Maya had cocked her head curiously, but shrugged it off. Her and Sam huddled next to each other in a window and she tried activating her ability as people passed by.
But much like the brief show in the impala, it would activate for barely a moment. Not long enough to get a chance to comprehend what she was seeing, other than maybe a fuzzy impression.
The next one they tried was her ability to make illusions/hologram like projections. They soon discovered she could only do one image at a time and it was much like her first attempts when learning this ability. Very see through, disjointed, soundless, and off looking. Some of the markings on the cuffs shimmered slightly when she cast them.
Maya hadn't said anything during that exercise to Sam about how the manacles seemed to warm slightly the more she pushed in creating her illusions. Nothing painful, just a little too warm.
Her shapeshifting abilities were non-existent still. Sigh, sadness.
Testing her ability to sense magic was a little more tricky since they weren't in nature and there wasn't any witchcraft nearby. Although, she felt the faintest tug of something off in one direction. It couldn't give them any specifics, like the type of magic she'd briefly sensed.
They even left the motel for a few minutes to try and follow it but it wasn't focused enough to lead them in any specific direction, more like an extreme general feeling. Like, she was facing the general direction, but not whether it was to the right or the left or straight in front of her. It didn't get more specific or intense the further they walked, either. She mine as well still be legally blind for magic sensitivity in that sense.
Last, but not least, was testing her ability to summon/teleport objects to her hand. Sam had placed a pen on the table while Maya moved to the other side of the room and concentrated on the pen. The way it looked, the way it would feel in her hand.
As Maya felt her power grow, getting ready to bring the pen to her awaiting hand the more heat poured into the cuffs around her wrists and the more the sigils glowed. She grew nervous as the heat kept intensifying and decided to use what she can and snapped her fingers.
The pen disappeared and reappeared a foot closer to her.
Maya gasped and yelped in pain as she quickly moved past Sam to the open sink and ran cool water over the cuffs and her reddening wrists.
Deeply concerned Sam rushed to her side to find out what happened, his face paling a little at the angry skin around the gunmetal grey metal. Thankfully the skin wasn't burned, but still an angry red like sticking your bare hand in too hot water while doing dishes.
"What happened?" Sam asked, rubbing a large hand on the small teen's back as the cool water soothed her skin.
"I-I felt them grow warm during the illusion tests, but…it was just a little too warm to be comfortable," Maya shook her head, glad the sting in her skin under the metal was gone. "I didn't think they'd try to burn me when they started getting a little too hot when I was about to summon the damn pen!" she angrily shut the faucet off.
She knew they didn't burn her when her powers surged to fight off the demon blood, but then again, she felt like she was burning all over at the time.
At least now, Maya had some access to her powers but…it was still not enough to be entirely useful.
It was a cruel twist of fate that had just reminded her how much she had missed them. That missing part of herself she hadn't acknowledged with everything going on, but this…teaser. This-this taste of what she used to be able to do, what she should be able to do and still…couldn't!
It had set off the normally silent ache inside her. The ache that told her she wasn't whole.
She gripped the edges of the porcelain sink about to start brooding when Sam wrapped his arms around her from behind in a hug, engulfing her smaller frame and resting his head on top of hers.
"You're still you, Maya. Powers or not. Or wherever you fall in between," Sam let his voice come out from his chest with a slight rumble. He could feel her relax in his grip, completely trusting him.
Sam's heart winced. A trust he had betrayed.
He could feel the small dog's accusatory little eyes on him from where Puck stared at them from behind the half wall.
Maya felt herself give a trembly smile and place a hand over his, "Thanks, Sam. You're a good big brother." Sam could hear the tender love and affection in her voice when she said that.
"Yeah," Sam choked a little, his mouth trying to twitch upwards into a smile. "Thanks, Maya," his bangs covered the guilt and pain in his eyes.
They decided to take a break from prodding her powers for now—for obvious reasons.
Besides, it wasn't long before Pamela and Dean made an entrance.
At the knock at the door and Sam checking the peep hole, he opened the motel door to an agitated Pamela shaking her head with arms crossed.
"I can't even begin to tell you how crazy you three are," were the first words out of her mouth as she walked into the room.
"Hey!" Maya protested from Dean's bed, "Don't lump me in with those two lunkheads!"
"I don't hear you talking them out of it," Pamela snorted back and faced Maya's general direction, giving a thoughtful frown.
Something was different about the demi-Trickster since she last saw her. Pamela realized she could get somewhat of a read on her nature without physical contact. Like whatever power she had was slowly beginning to leak out from under her skin.
But only a few drops at a time.
"Better than what I thought Dean had come up with," Maya rolled her eyes, then remembered that Pamela couldn't see her visual sarcasm. "At least we're not attempting this ourselves and got the most knowledgeable person we knew," she flattered with a flirtatious smile that Pamela unfortunately couldn't see. Didn't mean she couldn't hear it in Maya's voice though.
"Sorry, Cutie," Pamela sported a knowing smirk. "Flattery won't get you in my good books over this stunt." Maya's smile fell and sucked her lips inwardly looking guilty.
"Anyways," Sam coughed a little awkwardly. "Pamela, you're definitely a sight for sore eyes."
Pamela chuckled and lowered her sunglasses in Sam and Dean's direction, showing off the completely white prosthetic eyeballs. "Aw, that's sweet grumpy. What do you say to deaf people?" she returned her shades back to their rightful place. "Now, Dean, I'm guessing you're the brainiac that came up with astral projection?" her tone and glower—even behind the shades—spoke volumes of her irritation.
"Yo," Dean spoke up looking a little sheepish at the glare Pamela was no doubt leveling his way behind her sunglasses.
"So, let's be clear—you want to rip your souls out of your bodies and take a little stroll through the spirit world?" Pamela questioned, just wanting to be clear.
"Mmhmm," Dean hummed as he sucked in his own lips, as Pamela crossed her arms in irritation at their stupidity.
"Do you have any idea how heavy duty insane that is?"
"Maybe—"
"Yes," Maya interceded, but Dean just kept talking ignoring her interruption.
"—But that's where the Reaper is, so…" Dean didn't finish the sentence but Pamela did. Sam kind of just stood in the background like an attractive extra, waiting to see if Pamela would agree to their insane request.
"So, it's nuts," she argued back.
"Not if you know what you're doing," Dean pointed out ready to reason with the woman. She wouldn't have come if she didn't plan on helping them, right?
Pamela's facial expression was deadpanned, "You don't know what you're doing."
"No," Dean conceded. "But, like Goldy pointed out, you do."
"Yeah. I do. And guess what?" Pamela huffed, irritated. "I'm sick of being hauled back into your Angel-Demons, soc-greaser crap!"
"Look, I'd love to be kicking back a cold one, watching Judge Judy too."
"Nice. More blind jokes?" Pamela snarked at Dean's words.
Dean gave the unseeing woman an ineffective annoyed stare, "You know what I mean." He took a step closer to Pamela, his voice devoid of the usual charm and filled with the serious finality of the situation they'd found themselves in, "We're talking the end of the world here, okay? No more tasseled leather pants; no more Ramones CD's, no more nothing. We need your help."
Pamela was silent, her head slightly shaking, but not in refusal.
It was the kind of shaking someone did in disbelief—not of someone else's stupidity but of the one they knew they themselves were about to make.
"I'm going to regret this," Pamela groaned in her acceptance of this hair brained scheme. "I'm doing this so you numbskulls don't try doing this by yourselves and screwing it up!" she pointed in their direction sternly.
.
Sam drew the curtains closed, reducing the light that filtered into the room through the not completely opaque fabric. He didn't notice the curtain brush against the salt line on the one window sill.
Meanwhile, Maya and Dean lit candles and placed them around the room creating a soft light in the darkened room.
"Tell me something geniuses," Pamela spoke out from her chair at the foot of the two motel beds while the others worked. "Even if you do break into the veil, and you find the Reaper, how you gonna save it?"
Dean placed the most recently lit candle down on a nightstand, then smirked over at Pamela, "With style and class."
Maya shook her head as she placed her own candle down next to another on the dresser.
"You're gonna be two walking pieces of fog," Pamela pointed out, just knowing Maya was pouting a little from being left out of the coming excursion. "Who can't touch or move anything. You'll be defenseless hotshot."
"I seem to recall a bunch of ghosts beating the crap out of us," Sam huffed, facing Pamela.
"Yeah, well, they had plenty of time to practice," Pamela shifted in her seat, getting as comfortable as she could get in the hard wooden chair.
"Well, then, I guess we got to start cramming," Dean replied, earning a snort from Maya.
"Wow, a couple of heroes," Pamela said with demure sarcasm. "All right," she sighed and patted the bed in front of her. "Lie down you two. Close your eyes. Cutie, you come stand by me," Maya pouted and with a roll of eyes walked by Sam and Dean to stand beside Pamela with crossed arms.
Puck—who'd been sitting at Pamela's feet—was happy. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to follow his Mistress where she wanted to go with the brothers. Or be able to follow her when she was a spirit. Unless she was able to make herself visible, otherwise he'd be only able to vaguely sense her.
So, yeah. The little dog was pleased that Pamela had told them that having Maya join the Winchesters on the other side might not be a good idea. No matter how disgruntled said girl was about it.
They waited in silence while Sam and Dean relaxed on their respective beds until their heart beats were slow and steady—thanks to Puck's more sensitive earing.
"Animum vult decipi, ergo decipiateur. Vis, vis, vis," Pamela finished the astral projection spell and gave a sigh. "Okay, guys. That's it. Showtime," she called out into the quiet.
Maya had vaguely sensed the magic that was invoked to temporarily break the ties of flesh and soul. Gold eyes looked at the very still forms of Sam and Dean, taking in the unnatural stillness. Pamela had explained the spell or ritual as putting the bodies in a kind of stasis while the souls took a walkabout. The danger Pamela had pointed out with this was if there wasn't someone there to bring them out of it.
Or, if something happened to their bodies. Like a knife in the heart from a disgruntled demon.
A very valid reason to why Pamela wanted Maya to stay with her on their side of the Veil.
That and something else, but assuming the boys were currently discovering the success of the astral projection and their new status, Pamela told them how she planned to bring them back.
All things considered, it was pretty simple. Just whisper incantation in ear and bam!
Welcome back to the Land of the Living!
After Pamela's explanation Maya noticed the way Puck seemed to vaguely follow something unseen, like he was trying to peer through opaque fog. Puck turned back to look up at Maya after following whatever he sensed to the motel door.
"Well, I think Turner and Hooch have left the building," Maya cracked with a sigh, scratching the back of her head.
'What to do now?' Maya wondered, but didn't have to wait long as Pamela turned in her general direction.
"You can tell me what's going on with you, Cutie," the blind woman smiled toothily like a shark. "When you helped me to the chair and I touched your hand something was different."
Maya's meddling-female-psychic senses went off.
"Whaaaaat?" Maya drew out and then quickly denied what Pamela was insinuating.
A curved eyebrow arched over Pamela's blacked out shades as she stared unseeingly in Maya's direction, "Really?" The disbelief exceedingly evident in her tone.
"Yes," Maya affirmed with an unseen but very resolute nod.
What was with psychics prying into her personal life? At least this one couldn't skim surface thoughts…
"You can try denying all you want, but I picked up on that turmoil you've got going on inside that head of yours," Pamela waved in her direction as she leaned back as best she could in the hard wooden chair. She didn't mention how that light she first picked up on when they first met was no longer rolling quietly underneath the demi-god's skin.
Sure, it didn't increase in effectiveness when brushing against others, but whatever it was, was closer to the surface. It was no longer a quiet rolling of power beneath her skin like gentle waves.
No, it felt almost like a small tremor had gone off inside Maya and it had loosened or cracked something. Like the cap on a sealed volcano cracking only enough to start releasing pent up gas from within.
Not enough to break it, per se, but enough to slowly start chipping away at the block. Once a chink is formed, no matter how strong something might be, with enough pressure and force it will break.
And the after math will be explosive.
Pamela hoped that with some intervention for whatever was going on inside the little half-Trickster's mind might stem some of the blow-out when whatever was keeping her power in check finally bursts free. Pamela was of the school of thought that if it burst because she pushed her powers too much in practice or training it wouldn't be so bad.
Not a lot of emotions to add to the proverbial fire. But emotions and a sudden outburst of power, was like—respectively—dumping kerosene on an already incredibly large bonfire.
The fireball would be spectacular…if you were far enough away that was.
Pamela picked up on Maya's annoyance but also the pain and doubt and fear that started to really saturate the air around her.
Pamela sighed, "Have you talked with the boys about it? Or Bobby? You're real close with the guy, ain't ya?"
"Well, yeah. He's like another Dad," Maya admitted to Pamela with a shrug. "Sam and Dean know, but other stuff was going on the last time I saw Bobby and didn't get a chance to say anything," she half-lied, a brief flash of guilt lancing through her other emotions.
Never try and dupe an experienced psychic.
"You weren't planning on telling him, were ya?" Pamela stated with a knowing smirk. She liked the kid but—"You've been hanging around Sam and Dean too much."
"I'm not that bad!" Maya protested, getting a derisive snort from Puck. She sent the little dog a mildly baleful glare, "Traitor." Puck was unfazed. Maya turned back to Pamela, rubbing the back of her neck, "I also had other stuff going on, so there was no time to really bring it up."
Pamela frowned and tilted her head curiously, "What other stuff?"
"Would you settle for demon crap?" Maya's lips quirked upwards in a small smirk, but it quickly fell when Pamela turned her upper body to fully face her.
"Spill the beans, kid. What happened?" Pamela pretty much demanded. She had a feeling it would explain why her powers were closer to the surface than they were before.
"Uuuuuuhhh," was Maya's oh so elegant reply at the piercing sightless stare of the psychic as she eyed the motel door.
"Maya," Pamela's voice came out stern and authoritative, but sadly Maya hadn't developed a close relationship with the psychic and felt no tongue-tying keeping her from lying.
"Nothing to worry about, Pam," Maya forcibly reassured, waving her off.
Pamela stared sightless at the little Trickster knowing full well she was being lied to. So, instead of trying to demand more answers she shrugged and leaned back into her wooden chair, relaxing. "Alright. Suit yourself," Pamela shrugged nonchalantly. "Guess we can just sit here in silence for the next few hours then."
Pamela smirked at the distraught groan of impending boredom that left Maya's lips.
.
Few hours later…
The silence was deafening and had driven Maya damn near nuts, till she remembered the crappy TV in the room. She let herself feel a smidge of victory over the psychic when said psychic frowned in defeat.
No talking about shit.
…Crap, she really was hanging around the Winchesters too much.
Maya glanced at the alarm clock and decided it was probably a good idea to go scrounge up some food.
"I'm gonna go get some take-out. Any preferences?" Maya asked as she made her way to the door.
"Sure that's a good idea?" Pamela queried in her direction.
"Just re-salt the door and you'll be fine," Maya reassured as she dug out her wallet to check how much cash she had. Frowning she walked over to Sam's duffle and pulled a couple twenties from his portion of living expenses stash. She fully intended to get Sam and Dean something too for when they came back.
"Yeah, but will you be? There's demons around," Pamela pointed out with a concerned frown.
Puck huffed indignantly and scurried over to Maya's feet as she went back to the motel door.
"I've got Puck watching me," she smiled. "I'll be alright. And I promise, no detours."
Pamela wasn't completely convinced but there wasn't much she could do to try and stop her. So she waved her off while telling her to get her an order of sweet n' sour chicken balls. Pamela made sure to grab the salt container on the dresser and carefully re-salted the line across the door.
.
Greybull Funeral Home
Meanwhile…
Sam and Dean had spent the last few hours getting Cole Griffith to teach them the ins and outs of being a ghost and were now ready to confront whatever shit show was about to go down at the funeral home.
A funeral home that was lit up with strange symbols plastered all over it standing out in the darkness with their blue glow. Neither of them knew what the symbols meant, but they didn't have time to dawdle. The Reaper, Tessa, had just been taken and the ritual for breaking another seal was about to go down.
They went in and found Tessa and the other abducted Reaper in the center of a ritualistic circle on the hardwood floors.
Using their newly learned ghost abilities they beat the crap out of the one demon present in the room. Didn't anticipate there being more demons and that one just being used as bait—for them. Sam and Dean had soon found themselves trapped in a ring of iron chains.
Then in walked Alastair in his old paediatrician meatsuit.
"Boys," the demon's eyes turned white, "Find the place okay?" His eyes returned to normal as he casually walked up to the trapped Winchesters with a pleased smirk on his stolen face. Alastair casually looked around, pretending to look for something that he knew wasn't there, "Where's that pretty little Trickster-ling of yours?"
He stopped at the iron chains as another demon handed him a shotgun. Alastair took a moment to appreciate the weapon in his hands. Not bothered by the increasingly frustrated and furious glare of one Sam Winchester.
Sam lost his glare for a moment in surprise when Alastair shot Dean with rock salt, dissipating him for a moment.
Alastair looked over at Sam, "Rock salt's not so much fun anymore, is it?" That concentrated glare back on Sam's face. Alastair just smirked at the pathetic human soul.
Dean grunted as he came back, "Alastair…you bastard."
"Well, go on," Alastair smirked as Sam kept trying to use his powers in him, unsuccessfully. "Why don't you try some of your mojo on me now, hotshot?" Dean sent Sam a concerned look. "It's hard to get it up when you aren't wearing your meat, huh?"
"Go to Hell," Sam glared heatedly with narrowed eyes.
"Ah, if only I could. But they just keep sending me back up to this Artic craphole," Alastair lamented in disgust as he made a show of circling the trapped and unconscious reapers.
"To kill death?" Dean questioned, hoping to glean some insight to what Alastair was planning. To see if they had the right idea.
"No, to kill death twice," Alastair looked back over at Sam and Dean. "It takes two to break a seal. I figured another one would show up though. They're like lemmings," he walked back towards them, cocking the shotgun and shot at Sam. Sam dissipated as Alastair went to stand in front of Dean.
"By the way, it's uh, good to see you again, Dean," If it was on any other face, made by any other being the words might have held some form benign friendliness one would expect from a friend they hadn't seen for ages. The undercurrent of Alastair's voice belied something more cruel and sadistic.
The white-eyed demon no doubt remembering Dean's time in Hell as both his torturer and his mentor.
"You can shoot us all you want, but you can't kill us," Alastair wouldn't find any fear in Dean's eyes or a quiver of it in his voice as he made that statement.
But Alastair was old. He knew bravado like he knew every nick and bloodstain on his instruments of torture, like every rattle and scream on rusted chains and hooks, and like the wet flaps of flayed skin in his preferred high temperature domain.
Bravado was nothing new to the demon. Just another reassurance of the fear he knew to be hiding within every scared little soul that crossed his rack.
Sam came back with a pained grunt.
Alastair gave a slow nod to Dean. "Ah, is that so?" he smirked, like he was being told something mildly amusing by an idiot, but wasn't about to tell the idiot why though.
.
The Broken Saddle Motel
Pamela
Pamela was up and carefully walking around the room, looking for the intruder she had all of a sudden sensed come in. No doubt from the now opened window, if the night breeze blowing across her face as she locked the door had been any indication. Going over to the window she quickly closed and gently finger the salt line across the window ledge, noting its break.
Fear gripped Pamela tightly in her chest as she reached out her senses to try and pinpoint the malevolent presence. The only thing she took solace on was that Maya wasn't here with her.
Unfortunately it meant her very deadly dog wasn't there as well.
Pamela's outlook for surviving this little trip had just took a turn for the worse.
.
Maya
"Let's cut through here," Maya suggested to Puck as they came across a narrow alleyway shrouded in darkness and littered with broken garbage.
Puck peered into the foreboding and night darkened alleyway, then looked up at his Mistress with a dubious look and an uncertain grumble.
Maya rolled her eyes at him, "It'll be fine. Besides," she shifted the takeout bags in her tiring arms. "These bags are heavy. The sooner we get back, the sooner I can put them down!" She boldly started walking down the obscured shortcut…of course, after nightfall
Puck made a show of not following right away and giving his Mistress an uncertain and slightly distressed bark to announce his displeasure over this obvious folly.
But, then he quickly trotted after her to catch up. As if he'd leave her alone in a dark alleyway.
Puck—and even Maya—was a little tense as they walked through the shadows. Both of their minds supplying imaginative situations Maya's less-than-thought-out idea could lead to.
Neither made a sound as they approached the halfway mark. Both of them thinking that they probably should have turned back, but it was too late now. So they kept going.
Three-quarters of the way through—tensing at every trash can and large garbage bag—they were readying themselves just in case something jumped out at them.
They approached the well-lit exit of the other street and the final possible hiding place something could be hiding in wait for them. A dumpster. They slowly approached, hearts thumping away in their chests.
Carefully, they peered around the corner of the overflowing and rank dumpster to find—
Nothing.
Shoulders sagged as they both breathed a sigh of relief, exiting the alley.
Maya smiled brightly down at Puck, "See! That wasn't so bad! And look!" She pointed down the street, "The motel's right there!"
Puck gave her an unimpressed, deadpanned look and quiet grumble before trotting ahead down the street light lit sidewalk.
"Oh c'mon on! Puck!" Maya whined as she followed behind her beloved canine and most trusted companion. She kept talking to him as they walked down the street to the motel, oblivious to the odd and curious stares she garnered.
Not that she ever cared in the slightest.
They got to the cheap motel and scampered up the stairs to their room. When Maya got to the door—just about to put in the key—she heard Pamela's muffled voice giving a demand.
Maya's brow furrowed in confusion when she didn't pick up the deeper timber of one of her pseudo brothers answering Pamela back.
Then there was a loud scuffle on the other side of the door. Puck barked in alarm as Maya dropped the take out bags and quickly unlocked the door, shouting Pamela's name in terrified worry.
Maya burst in as a bald biker wannabe of a man threw Pamela into the candle adorned dresser. He didn't acknowledge Maya as he pulled out a large knife and went to stab the blind psychic.
Maya panicked and ran at the man and pulled his knife wielding arm, trying to keep it as far away from Pamela as possible.
Black eyes glared at Maya and tried to shrug her off, while still pinning Pamela to the dresser with its other hand.
The demon didn't see Puck transform, but he sure felt it when a large dog—radiating holy power—sunk dagger length glowing teeth into his shoulder from behind. Knife sharp claws latched onto his upper chest as Puck tried to drag the demon backwards away from Maya and a newly released Pamela.
Maya—still holding onto the demon's knife arm—used her weight to push the demon back towards Puck and towards the ground.
As the demon began to fall, Puck released his claws in the demon but not his grip on its shoulder as he helped drag it backwards.
Unfortunately, Maya had let herself also become off balanced and ended up falling with the demon.
Everything that happened next had all happened in a span of seconds, including what happened as Sam jolted upright in his bed. His soul back in his body.
Sam watched in horrific slow motion as Maya fell with the demon. Landing on top of the perpendicular knife he held.
"Maya!" Sam all but screamed as the large knife easily slid into her abdomen with a wet shing! The sound of her gasp cutting off was almost as deafening as the sound she made when her and the demon hit the hard motel floor.
A forced wheeze that ended with a high pitched and pain filled whine/gurgle combination as the blade was forced deeper into her body.
Inertia and gravity were a couple of sadistic assholes in this regard.
Puck all but tore the demon's shoulder—arm and all—from its socket as the demon tossed Maya aside into the same dresser that Pamela sat perched on. Puck whined at the hard thump Maya's head made against the wooden dresser that rendered her unconscious.
Sam by now had leapt from the bed and glared unfiltered rage and hate at the pinned demon. Using this he was able to push his reawakening demon powers to their current limits and possibly a little further.
He mentally grabbed the demon inside their meat suit and pulled. Black smoke erupted from the possessed man's mouth and swirled in panic above their heads. Unable to escape Sam's grip on it.
Sam had first thought of trying to send this bastard back to Hell, but Puck beat him to it. The large dog leapt into the air and clamped glowing teeth into the swirling black mass, dragging it down and began tearing it apart.
The demonic smoke seemed to scream as Puck tore the bastard to shreds.
Sam watched as Puck made a final chomp into the smoke, destroying it. Sam turned to find Pamela leaning over Maya checking her pulse with a worried frown.
"Is she…" Sam couldn't finish as fear, worry, and grief began to fill him.
"She's alive," Pamela reassured as she stood up. "She can't die. At least not in this town," Pamela bent down again and put a hand where steel met flesh before showing Sam her still clean hand. "No blood."
Sam gave a breathy—and momentarily relieved—laugh as he rubbed away the tears that tried to overtake his eyes. He knelt down and carefully picked Maya up, putting her down on his vacant bed and brushing her lengthening and dark curly brown hair from her face.
The knife was still prominently sticking out of her abdomen, but without the blood it almost looked like a prop you'd see used in a theatre production. Looked like it wasn't even real. The glinting metal in the candlelight told them otherwise.
Puck shrunk down and climbed up onto the bed with a worried whine, curling up at Maya's head. His nose gently prodding her cheek, before licking her cheek weakly.
"Yeah. I'm worried about her too, boy," Sam went to pat the little dog's head but Puck sent him a quiet growl and an intimidating stink eye, stilling his hand.
Puck was not pleased with what he had witnessed, and neither was Pamela.
"Sam," Sam looked up at Pamela. "What did you do?"
He looked away from her sightless gaze.
"Let's just get Dean up, okay?"
"Mhmm," Pamela hummed unimpressed as she carefully made her way over to Dean.
.
Dean
Sam and Dean had managed to use their ghostly powers to crash the chandelier in the funeral home to break the entrapment circle around Tessa and Alastair. With that gone Tessa teleported over and removed the iron chain from its hook releasing the boys. They all teleported out of there.
Tessa and Dean had ended up outside the funeral home, with Sam nowhere in sight. Dean told Tessa to get out of there and he'd go look for Sam. Ghost Dean went off down a back alleyway that fed through behind the buildings.
Right into Alastair.
"You can't run…Dean," Alastair said smugly when Dean turned and found him there. Alastair was pleased as punch as at the surprise and fear he could see in the man's eyes. Without Sammy there, Dean had trouble keeping up the bravado when faced with his hellish tormentor.
Dean clenched his jaw as Alastair languidly approached, like a cat toying with a trapped mouse.
"Not from me," the demon grinned. "I'm inside that angsty little noggin of yours," Alastair crept closer, Dean moving a step back for everyone the demon took.
It looked like Dean's ghostly goose was cooked when lightening shot down from the clear night sky, striking Alastair. Dean had turned his head from the sudden brightness in reflex as Alastair yelled in pain.
Then the demon was gone when the lightshow ended and Dean looked back up in confused relief.
"What the hell?"
"Guess again," came the deep and familiar gravelly voice from behind him. Dean looked over his shoulder to find Castiel standing right behind him.
"Castiel, what the hell just happened?" Dean demanded, fully turning to face the angel.
"What just happened? You and Sam just saved a seal. We captured Alastair," Castiel frowned a little at Dean's less than pleased response. Surely this was good news. "Dean, this was a victory."
"Well, no thanks to you," Dean pointed out. He distinctly remembered there being a lack of angelic help during this whole thing.
"What makes you say that?" Castiel questioned with a little confused head tilt.
A realization came over Dean's face and clenched his jaw in agitation, "You were here the whole time."
Castiel looked off in the distance with what Dean could only imagine was a smidge of guilt, "Enough of it."
"Well, thanks for your help with the rock salt," Dean said sarcastically.
"That script on the funeral home—we couldn't penetrate it," Castiel explained, not meeting Dean's eyes.
"That was angel proofing?" Dean asked. If he was a demon with a bold plan to off some Reapers—something not exactly conspicuous—he'd want to make sure he'd be able to hide out from whatever might be coming to investigate too.
"Why do you think I recruited you and Sam in the first place?" Castiel finally looked back at Dean, having explained his absence.
"You recruited us?" Dean gave the angel a skeptical look.
"That wasn't your friend Bobby who called, Dean," the trench coat angel revealed. "It wasn't Bobby who told Sam about the seal," Castiel averted his eyes once more.
"That was you?" the anger rising in Dean was palatable. "If you want our help, why the hell didn't you just ask?" Dean pressed. He was miffed at this holy tax account for impersonating their friend, their family.
But it made sense. Bobby would've never risked endangering Maya like that and would've chewed out their asses the moment he realized she was anywhere near a demon.
Castiel looked back up sharply with narrowed eyes, "Because whatever I ask, you seem to do the exact opposite." Dean knew he must have pushed some buttons if the normally unflappable angel was giving the briefest glimpse of an attitude to him.
Dean, however, was the one to look away this time for a moment before turning emerald eyes back onto the dark haired angel, "So what—"
Dean didn't finish as Tessa appeared before them.
"Dean," Tessa nodded at him then looked at Castiel, "Angel."
Castiel looked confused at the Reaper. Shouldn't she have started collecting the souls that were supposed to have died in this town already?
"Tessa, what are you doing here?" Dean questioned a she took a step towards his one-time Reaper.
The dark haired female Reaper looked back at Dean with that polite and calm face she seemed to wear like a business suit.
"You got me out of a bind, so I thought I'd give you a little warning," her face turned sympathetic, the kind you see at funerals of close loved ones from strangers giving you hollow condolences. No matter how heartfelt they may have been. "The number of souls I need to reap tonight has…increased."
Dread gripped Dean's imaginative ghost heart, "Sam?" His brother was his first guess but with the shake of the Reaper's head he felt as though his heart stopped. "Maya?"
"I'm sorry, Dean. While you and Sam were running around as tethered souls she ran afoul of a knife. I'd get back and say your goodbyes, soon," Tessa gave Dean a sad smile. "Once I start it won't take long for her to succumb to her wounds. At least it will be quick," Tessa's teeth clicked when Dean shouted at her to shut up.
"You leave her the hell alone, Tessa!" Dean yelled, his back straightening and pushing his rigidly shoulders back, unconsciously trying to make himself more intimidating. "Give us enough time to get her to a—"
Dean cursed God's name when Tessa gave a small sad shake of her head and disappeared.
"Please don't take the Lord's name in vain, Dean," Castiel intoned, drawing the irate Winchester's attention back to himself. He noticed a gleam enter the man's green eyes.
"Could you heal her?" Dean asked, his gaze intense and unwavering.
"Lilith would no longer be able to attain levera—"
Dean didn't let the Angel finish, "Can you heal her?!"
They held each other's' intense gazes, neither one backing down from the other.
Castiel spoke first, "She's a disgusting demi—"
"She's family, Castiel," Dean growled as he felt time slowly marching forward and his little sister losing more and more time. "Not that I'd expect an Angel of the Lord to understand. You're just a bunch of soldiers following orders, right? You don't know what it means to be a family."
Castiel was all of a sudden in Dean's personal space, a quiet anger about him, "I've lost Brothers and Sisters since the seals started breaking and I have felt their loss."
"Don't exactly look torn up about it," Dean scoffed, not breaking eye contact no matter how much he wanted to. The prolonged intense eye contact was uncomfortable to say the least. "When I lost Sam, I couldn't move without pain coursing through my very being. The thought of living in a world without him was soul crushing to the point it damn near hurt to breath. I might not feel that with Maya, but it'll be damn close."
Castiel said nothing, because what could he say to that? Yes he felt every loss, but nothing like what Dean Winchester described. No matter how familiar.
"Heal her and I'll owe you one. Name it. Anything," Dean broke the tense silence then growled. "But if you don't…you think working with me was frustrating before? You have no idea what you'd be in for."
Dean did his best not to fidget under the intense blue eyed stare of the Angel as he felt his very being was being assessed.
"You swear?" Castiel finally asked in his signature gravelly voice.
Dean gave a resolute nod and pushed away the sinking feeling that he was selling his soul again, "Anything. No questions asked and no bitching…okay I can't promise the no bitching, but I'll do it."
Castiel retreated from Dean's personal space, a relief to the Hunter.
"You are foolish to offer such a thing for a demi-god," Castiel commented.
Dean shrugged and simply said, "I'm a big brother. It's what I do."
"Then we have an accord," with that Castiel disappeared.
Only for Tessa to pop up again, "Glad you worked something out, Dean. But I could use your help."
"Is she…" Dean started hoping Castiel would be good for his word.
"Her fate's changed," Tessa gave a small smile. "Will you help me now?"
"The kid?"
Tessa nodded.
Dean sighed, "Yeah. Let's go." At least Maya was no longer on the ready-to-be-reaped list.
.
December 21 2008, Greybull, Wyoming, Untied States
After midnight...
The Broken Saddle Motel
Dean loudly gasped and sat straight up after Pamela whispered the return incantation in his ear. Dean looked to his right at the other bed when he heard coughing and sickly gurgling.
Maya had woken up, choking on her own blood.
"Maya! Hey," Sam carefully helped her sit up as blood flowed from her mouth and trickled around the knife in her abdomen. Dean's face paled at the sight and quickly rushed over to her other side. "T-take it, easy. We just got to talk to Tessa, that's all—get her to hold off on the reaping till we get you better," Sam tried to reassure the scared little Trickster.
Puck whined pitifully as he tried to press into Maya's hip, his eyes darting to the sluggish wound wishing with everything he had that he could do something.
"Sam, Tessa's not going to hold off," Dean told them grimly.
"What? No, no, no, no…" Sam muttered shaking his head.
Maya gave a wet laugh through the searing pain she was feeling, "Figures. You can't really negotiate with Death." She coughed, spraying a bit more blood, "But I could do without feeling like a pin cushion with a hangover." Her head throbbed a little from the second bump to it in so many days.
"This is no time to be funny, Maya!" She just gave Sam a sad smile at his outburst.
Maya knew well enough that this wasn't a wound you could exactly walk away from.
Dean took his eyes off her and looked around the room and yelled, "Damn it, Castiel! Where are you?"
Everyone turned to stare at Dean in confusion, then looked behind him when the trench-coat clad Angel appeared in a sound of ruffling feathers.
"I'm here, Dean," Castiel's azure eyes zeroed in on the half-Trickster propped up in the bed, coughing up more blood. Maya tensed as the Angel approached, sending Puck into defensive mode.
Castiel stopped his approach as the Heavenly Hound growled menacingly at him from the edge of the bed. The dog's body tense and ready to transform and sink his teeth into Castiel.
"Dean, what's going on?" Sam asked in confusion, while Pamela settled herself as far away from the Angel as possible in the corner of the room.
"Castiel's going to heal her," Dean told him then looked reassuringly at Maya. "He said he'd heal you, Maya."
Maya choked on her blood as she gave a sardonic laugh, "And you believed him? An Angel willing to heal me? They'd rather see me dead than to soil their prissy little hands with my blo—"
She didn't finish as more blood filled her throat and her body began convulsing going into its final death throes.
Castiel stared down the half-Trickster's guardian, "I promise I will heal her."
Puck growled, but moved back to the foot of the bed to give the Angel some room, but close enough to attack should the Angel be lying.
Castiel understood the act of permission and quickly strode forward removing the knife. Sam startled and looked like he was about to punch the Angel, but Dean's hand on his shoulder—reaching over Maya—kept him at bay.
Castiel placed his large palm on the freely flowing wound, rivers of blood hardly stemmed by his hand. He concentrated his grace and healed the organs damaged by the blade, before moving onto the skin and muscle.
The Angel focused on the cells as he pushed them to renew and regenerate, knitting muscle, tissue and skin back together. But as he did so he uncovered something he wasn't expecting.
Castiel's brow furrowed. Make that two things.
As he closed the wound, the Angel discovered a type of script that spanned every inch of the half-Trickster's skin in the underside of the hypodermis.
He knew the language; it was Enochian but he couldn't decipher its meaning.
But that was only the second thing. The first…he now knew her human parentage.
Castiel removed his hand from the heavily panting girl as she moved her shirt aside to find not even a scar marring her flesh. Just the blood it had spilt.
Gold eyes looked up at Castiel for a brief moment appraisingly with a slight curious head tilt before she was accosted by Sam and Dean, and her dog. Maya gave a light laugh as the brothers sandwiched her in a hug and—unable to free her arms—getting a face full of dog tongue as Puck licked her face as he excitedly wagged his tail.
Castiel tilted his head at the affectionate familial display, not acknowledging the phantom ache in his chest of memories long forgotten before disappearing.
.
Heaven
Castiel
Castiel left the Winchester's and their…to report to Zachariah the success of the latest seal being saved and his…discoveries.
Zachariah was waiting for him in his office.
"Castiel! Good, you're here," Zachariah greeted as Castiel stood at attention in front of his superior. "Report," Zachariah waved at the stoic Angel, crossing his arms and leaned back against his desk.
"Dean Winchester and Samuel were able to save the seal. They underwent astral projection to stop Alastair and was able to draw the demon out of his warded hide out. We were able to capture the demon unawares and have taken him prisoner," Castiel finished.
"Excellent! Good job, Castiel," Zachariah gave Castiel a broad smile and clapped his hands, before his face became strained. "But, we're still disappointed with your performance over letting that traitor Anna get away. Not only that but also allowed her to regain her grace. So, we're going to have to demote you. You understand, right?"
"I understand, sir," Castiel responded robotically, not trying to defend his actions.
Zachariah gave him a cheeky smile and pointed at him, "You always were an understanding sport. Anything else to report?"
"Yes, sir," Castiel nodded. "The Winchester's…half-Trickster was mortally injured. In return for saving her—"
"It, Castiel," Zachariah interrupted. "It."
Castiel gave another stilted nod, "In return for saving it, Dean promised a favor. Anything Heaven desired with no questions. With his general stubbornness with aiding Heaven, I believed it was an acceptable trade."
Zachariah barked a laugh and sneered, "Ha! An idiotic trade on your part maybe! We would've made the Righteous Man do as we said regardless of what he wanted!" Castiel didn't react to Zachariah's debasement. Zachariah paced a few steps before turning back to Castiel, wagging his finger in thought, "Actually, you might be on to something. You might've just won us some good will with him. We could definitely hold it over his head if he ever gets uppity with us at any rate."
Castiel frowned at his superior's comment. Blackmail seemed more like something a demon would condone, not Heaven. Castiel mentally shook the thought from his mind and continued.
"There was something else, sir," Castiel received Zachariah's attention once more. Something inside him told him it was a bad idea, that he should keep what he learned to himself. He doubted the importance of the information, but it was still something he should probably report.
Despite the contradictory feelings.
"I discovered something while healing the half-Trickster. It had Enochian sigils beneath its skin, and there was something else."
"There's more?" Zachariah scoffed, but never removed his tense and focused gaze off of Castiel.
Castiel nodded curtly, "Yes. The half-breed abomination is the daughter of John Winchester."
Castiel watched as a look of disbelief cross Zachariah's face before a predatory smile creeped across the balding Angel's face.
It…greatly unsettled Castiel. It reminded him too much of a plotting demon.
The unsettled feeling didn't leave Castiel when he was dismissed and left Zachariah's office.
Zachariah leaned back against his desk as he thought over the unimportant information Castiel had brought to his attention. He'd been getting complaints from certain parties about their plans being delayed—almost derailed—by a certain half-breed little thing! Not to mention their pouting (read: bitching) over not having it in their clutches already.
And honestly? Zachariah was slowly getting fed up over having Loki on their current pay role. The pagan was looking ready to take a chance and try and kill any angel near it before hunting down its wayward offspring. Defeating the disposability of its use.
He also didn't like how Dean was willing to do anything for the half-breed's life. Zachariah didn't want to take the off chance of this thing further delaying Sam's progress or helping the boys reconcile when the truth comes out.
Heaven needed the conflict between the Winchesters. Needed it to be like Michael and Lucifer.
After all, as it is in Heaven, so it must be on Earth.
One brother must to kill the other.
And that damn half-Trickster might put it all at risk.
It might be time to…do something.
But perhaps not right away. There was the matter of those Enochian sigils under the half-breed's skin to look into.
It wasn't often Zachariah's curiosity was…heavily piqued.
AN: Here it is! Another chapter fresh off the presses!
Did you expect it? Did you? Did you?! DID YOU SEE IT COMING!?
I know some of you did. I was going to spring it out in a couple of chapters at like the very end of all the pain I have planned, but I think I'd like to see you squirm some more knowing what the characters do not.
Speaking of pain I did say this chapter might take longer because of planning, but I forgot there was one more episode after this one. So we'll see. We now have Ruby/Lilith making plans plus Zachariah!
Reviews!
Xenocanaan: Yeah they did have a pretty rough go last chapter, but sadly no quality time this round. Hope you liked it!
Vrsaandrea: Thanks so much for the review! I love reading your reviews! They're so long and you always tell me specifics of what you loved. They always make me smile. I went into the episode and got similar results this time around too, and it'll be the same for the next one too. Gotta plant more doubt into little Cassie's mind. And I'm setting up for the chapter after next. Re-reading my last chapter and Ruby plotting I'm like, hey now. That's right Heaven and Hell working together behind the scenes is cannon. Gonna put a wedge between Maya and Dean and possibly make Sam more…vengeful against Lilith.
The pawn wasn't Castiel and as we have learned, Castiel spilled the beans. The plotline slowly moving forward.
VegasGranny: The cuffs will be coming off but the wings won't be coming out to play for a while, sorry. Thanks for the Happy Valentine's!
Eyum daRelmera: I know right? Had to bring back somehow. Sam might figure something out if he ever sees it again. Yeah, I feel all the sympathy for Bobby, especially for the one episode in season 6 if I ever get that far, sigh. And yeah I'm so proud of myself for that little scenario of getting her grace to shine. Yes, hate the Ruby, now hate the Douche-ariah. And in all honesty Bobby will be the one to figure it all out first. Maya might be a little mad that he didn't tell her when she learns it, but by then she'll be mostly out of steam and will need Bobby. So glad you loved it!
Lolxxx: Wow I don't think I ever made anyone stress pace before with a chapter. And yes, major plot development. Hope you liked this one as well and the stakes slowly getting higher. And yeah, Bobby's the best. I love him.
