Disclaimer: Crimson Peak is Guillermo Del Toro's property, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke, The Lodgers to Brian O'Malley. Emma, Constance and I are self-inserts. The old lady from Camden Market belongs to Chibimelodee.
Summary: Ghosts are real and everything happens for a reason. Is this why Marina and her friends find themselves trapped in Allerdale Hall a few days away from Christmas?
Author's note: This story was written for me by « Emma » and « Constance » from Chibimelodee as an Advent Calendar two years ago. Please note that all three of us are french and while we do know our way around English, we might still make some mistakes. Feel free to let us know! As the three girls are french and start to speak from this chapter, I'll put the translations of their sentences right next to them so you know what they say.
At the Candlelight
Chapter 21 : It's the most wonderful time of the year
There'd been a time when beauty didn't harbour pain. A time when snowfall made them smile and the sunrise meant a fresh day. Not anymore. Constance's fall to her Death seemed to take forever and yet, no one could do a thing.
Emma's scream echoed in everyone's heart, her pain and sorrow cutting through the silence of the morning. A single tear rolled on Sean's cheek when he realised his powers couldn't save the young woman, running next to Thomas to help him save Marina… Choosing to save the one who could be. A foreign, feral sob worked its way up Marina's throat as she saw her long-time friend fell, barely feeling the Angel and the Baronet putting her on the solid ground, in safety. Dean closed his eyes, holding Emma as tight as he could, just waiting for the inevitable while Sam ran to the bannister, his hand outstretched in a vain attempt to catch her. Rowena scowled softly and Bobby and Crowley glared murderously at Lucifer who barely suppressed a smirk to illuminate his face. Even if they didn't know the French woman for that long, it was still heartbreaking to lose her.
Angel white of labyrinth blue
Do you see me as I see you?
Soft darkened eyes haunted by dreamless sleep
Is it your ghost I see in the mirror?
The pain curled and unfurled in Thomas's belly in a tangled web that he couldn't sort through. Falling in love had been a mistake. Loving someone… Needing someone… What had he been thinking? And now, he was left to watch her die in a shitty mansion and with a mess of emotions he couldn't make sense of. And he was forced to wait. Forced into the contemplate of the death of his love… He had looked Death in the eyes so many times, death of his father, death of his mother, death of his wives, death of his child, death of Lucille…, and yet, he wasn't sure how much more he could take. There was no pain in the world like this. It consumed him. It transformed into a rage then back into an unbearable sadness.
Constance's white nightgown flew around her, so alike at butterfly's wings swinging open, her long hair forming a dark halo around her face. She closed her eyes, avoiding everyone to see the light leave them. The parquet floor rushed up to meet her and she slammed against the rotten floorboards. Clay oozed out from beneath her body or was it her blood?
The Baronet ran, barely feeling the stairs beneath his feet, almost flying to go to her. She wasn't dead… She couldn't be… Edith had survived the fall, then surely… She couldn't be dead… Sadness and hope crushed his heart, tears of fear rolled down his cheeks. He couldn't even name all the emotions that were swirling through him. Falling to his knees, he took Constance's frail body near him, tainting his white shirt with her blood, pressing her face in his chest.
"Wake up, my Butterfly… Constance, wake up… I'm here…" his voice broke into a plea, his tears blurring his vision, falling freely on her face. "I beg you… Open your eyes… I love you… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry, my Love… Everything will be alright… I'm here, Darling… I will protect you… You will be alright…"
Reach out to touch me, dearest dream of mine
Open your eyes, say you're alright
The glass shatters at the softest touch
Is there a soul beyond the shards?
Looking up with begging eyes, his call was heartbreaking: "Mister Nally, please! Heal her… Save her… I'll do anything…"
A recomforting hand on his shoulder startled Thomas. The Angel stood now behind him, his eyes full of regret.
"I'm sorry but I can't… It's too late…"
Sean's words didn't seem to be heard by Thomas who still clung to Constance's lifeless body as if he could give his life to her by holding her. She couldn't be dead… He had saved her from Lucille… He had accepted the dreadful caresses of his sister to save her… Frenetically shaking his head, stroking softly the young woman's cheek, his voice resounded like a prayer, a foolish hope already broken:
"No… No… She's not… She can't be… She looks so serene… like when she's sleeping… She's just sleeping… She's asleep… She was so tired… Sleep my Love… I've got you, sweet Darling… Sleep in my arms… You will be alright… She's so warm, so… still…"
Warm tears sting my eyes
As all of these sweet memories flood back to me
Reminiscing now
The sun will set beyond the cruel mountain range
I'll still be here (it's dark now without your light)
Begging your heart to beat (sweet defiled angel, open your eyes)
My existence is not the same (believe in me)
Without you here... (believe that I love you)
« She can't be dead ! » the Baronet yelled suddenly, looking murderously at Sean. "Your protection should have saved her! You told me she would live… You were supposed to save her! I saved her… Yesterday, I saved her!"
"Oh, dear Tommy boy…" Rowena chastised, descending the stairs with grace "When will you know? I am way older than this pathetic angel and, if you had come to me, nothing of this would have happened… I suppose our little birdie only placed an anti-ghost charm, isn't it right?" Sean blinked several times, his eyes travelling from Thomas to the witch before he nodded, clearly ashamed. She sighed, putting her warm hand on the Baronet's cheek. "If only you had an ounce of intelligence…"
"Mother, shut up! Everyone knows perfectly that no spells of your invention could have protected her from the Devil himself…" Crowley snapped, quickly taking her hand away from the crying Baronet. "Let him grief… It shouldn't be long anyway. I guess he is used to, seeing how many wives of his died here… "
"I should have put more protection spells…" Sean whispered, his head low, taking what little comfort he could in Marina's arms whose just came down. He was feeling her tears on his back, her sorrow making things even worse for him. He had failed. "I feel so stupid…"
"Well, I'm glad you're finally feeling like yourself" the King of Hell smirked. But, before Marina had a chance to reply, Emma ran to the kneeling Baronet, her face twisted with wrath, Lucille's shining paper-knife on her tiny hand.
Dean had barely time to hold her back, catching her with ease before the knife would enter Thomas' back. Her hair was wild in her fury, tears running fiercely on her pale cheek. She didn't hear the hunter's soothing words whispered in her ears, blind and deaf in her pain. Her sister just died and it was all because of a pervert who dared to cry on her dead body.
"Lâche-la tout de suite! Je t'interdis de poser tes sales mains de meurtrier sur ma sœur ! I'll kill you!" Emma screamed at the top of her lungs, sorrow but also promesses echoing in her voice. "I'll fucking kill you! Constance… Constance! Constance…"
(Unhand her right now! I forbid you to put your dirty murderous hands on my sister!)
Her screams turned into sob, the cling of the paper-knife falling on the ground announcing far worse to come. Dean spun her, burying her face in his chest, letting her sadness express as her tears began to wet his shirt. Her small fists kept punching him over and over and over, begging him to let her express her grief and pain, express the vengeance that seemed to burn inside her but he didn't care. Soothing her hair, he kept her close, wanting nothing more than to take her grief away as he barely succeeded to repress his own tears to flow down.
Thomas was rocking Constance, her still face now dripping with his tears, shielding her from the others. There were just her and him… No one had importance anymore. He wiped delicately with his fingertips, like a caress, the tears running down the lifeless face of the young woman, seeming to think they were hers, not knowing they were his. He was whispering to her sweet words, his voice too weak and too shaky for anyone to understand. Sam came slowly toward the couple, kneeling near the Baronet, putting a recomforting hand on his arm, he whispered with a voice broken with pain and remorse:
"Thomas… It's over… You need to let her go… We need to bur…"
Thomas quickly wriggled away and protected the young woman with his body, avoiding Sam to come closer… avoiding anyone to come closer…
« No! She's not dead… Don't wake her… She sleeps so peacefully… Don't go near her… Go away!... She's so still, so cold… Why is she so cold, Sam? Why?..." the Baronnet yelled, his glaze confused, travelling from the hunter to the lifeless body lying in his arms.
She was his… She was supposed to be his… A small moth came flying near her hair, its wings making her eyelashes move slighting.
"You don't get to take her, insect of evil!" he whispered to it with venom in his voice, succeeding to drive it away before it could touch Constance.
Snow fell on her now blood-soaked nightgown, flake upon flake. Each crystalline drinking up the blood and sparkling like rubies. The sight was beautiful in a horrible way.
Small butterflies went out of her gown, breaking through the fabric, multiplying as they flew and soon, Constance was all butterflies, her body disappearing completely, leaving Thomas's arms to stay empty under everyone's wide eyes. The golden butterfly that was in her hair fell loudly on the ground, its sound breaking the heavy silence.
You shut your eyes
and gave in to that light
A beauty frozen in eternal night
just when I realized the error of my ways
you slipped between my fingertips
I was a fool, I was stuck in such bliss
Thomas's scream of agony echoed on the rotten walls, deafening everyone inside. A shock wave got out of his chest, his wail seeming to be never-ending. Lucifer, who was watching the scene with an obvious scene of self-appreciation, a proud smirk on his lips, Bobby's gun pointed at him, found himself glued to the nearest wall, his feet dangling in the air. Unable to breathe, the Devil closed his eyes, summoning his powers in an attempt to flee off this house but didn't move a single hair. His panicked expression almost made the old hunter laugh as red burning marks started to appear on his face.
Too struck to do something, they all stood, watching Thomas wailed, undeniably unchaining an ancient power. Rowena was the first one to move, her eyes blinking rapidly as she cut her wrist with her nail, tracing with her blood a sigil on the palm of her hand before unleashing one of her personal spells, her eyes brightening pale blue, knocking the Baronet unconscious on the ground. Alas, the witch's spell also freed Lucifer who happily disappeared as soon as his feet touched the floor again.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean growled, still holding tight a crying Emma. "What the hell was that?"
For the only answer, the witch barely waved at him to be quiet and, mentioning Crowley to come near her, Thomas, the demon and Rowena disappeared in a cloud of black smoke directly in the master's bedroom.
All was bright around her. She couldn't focus on anything. She was floating through nothing. She was currently nothing. But there she was. Alone. Freezing and yet burning. Her eyes were closed but she knew opening them would be vain. So, she laid there, letting fate decides his future, or rather her non-existent future. The misty cloud she was wrapped in didn't let her hear, see, smell or touch anything. But she did feel.
She felt pain and sorrow. Burning anger and desolation. Hatred and immense love. She wanted to cry and, at the same time, laugh. She wanted to tear her heart out from grief and boringly sighed. She wanted to murder and to die. She wanted to strick and yet get struck. She wanted to punch and yet get punched… All these emotions swirled around her, whipping her hard in the heart. There weren't her feelings. She knew she didn't really feel all of those things and yet, she felt them.
Some people were talking. She clearly hear them but cannot discern what they were saying. The discussion seemed heated. Something felt on the ground, startling her, the soft cling of a metal item meeting wood.
Over time, she didn't feel either the burn or the cold. She's fine, wrapped in strong arms, a fast heartbeat lulling her to sleep. Thomas's heart. Surrounded in his warmth, she tried to calm her emotions but his cold tears falling down her face kept reminding her of the terrible truth.
A small bark made her finally open her eyes, the bright mist clouding her sight. Beetlejuice came running to her, his small paws making a cute little noise. Gently taking the hem of her nightgown in his teeth, he began to pull her, forcing her to walk. Laughing at the dog's antics, she bent to pet his head before following him in the mist. Soon, a dark wooden door materialized in front of her and, without fear, she pushed it open.
To her surprise, she found herself in the room of her dream, the same pleasant fire lit the whole room in a homey atmosphere. The four armchairs seemed to call her, the crimson fabric shining with the gleam of the flames. As she stepped closer, she distinctly re-read the names, noticing with sadness they were the ones of Thomas's wives. Margaret McDermott. Pamela Upton. Enola Sciotti. And, to her horror, the last chair had a shining new name on it, the golden threat sparkling with a welcoming hue. Constance.
Despite what she thought, she didn't feel fear or sadness but a deep sensation of peace. Coming closer, her hand laying lazily on the back of "her" chair, she began to see some red mist fumbling, spiralling, shifting, slowly dissipating, letting three women appear. They were all looking at her apologetically, a soft smile gracing their lips while the baby in the nearest woman's arms began to wail.
« Son of a bitch ! » Dean growled, looking murderously at everyone, his anger too powerful to be contained. « Freaking Lucifer is free again ?!... Again ?! »
« Dean, calm down… » Sam tried to reassure his brother, seeing Emma shaking with fear and pain, reluctantly taking a step back from the warmth of his arms. « We talked about it, remember ? Gotta stick to our plan and everything's gonna be fine… »
« Everything's gonna be fine ? What plan? The one where you kiss the only girl you couldn't kiss 'cause this will free your old buddy, Lucifer? Are you talking about this plan? Cause it was not at all the plan we're talking about the days before, Sammy… Lucifer's out there, doing his-dad-knows-what and it's our bloody fault ! Again ! Well more yours than mine for once… yours and this damn Baronets who are unable to think with other things than with what's between his legs ! » the older Winchesters punched the wooden wall, leaving a hole in it.
« Get it together, you idijt ! » Bobby slapped Dean hard on the face. « Now's not the time to freak out. So, roll your sleeves up and help us build a freaking new cage for the Devil, understand ? »
Nodding reluctantly, his eyes showing only resolutions, Dean turned to Emma, before pulling her close against him, breathing her calming scent.
« Sorry… » he mumbled, a hint of sadness in his voice. « I'll do anything to keep you save and if I could do anything to help alleviate your pain, I… »
« Kill him ! » she whispered, her cheeks still wet with her tears but her eyes showing only focus. « Constance is dead… » her voice broke with grief before she straightened her shoulder, looking deep in his eyes. « All of this is because of this bastard of Thomas Sharpe !... Kill him, Dean !... For me… Do it for Constance… »
PLEASE! Kill that Man Upstairs!
If you ever loved me you'll do this one thing won't you sweetheart?
PLEASE! Murder that man Upstairs!
If you want to be my friend you have to prove you mean it
« As soon as Lucifer's back in his cage, I swear I'll kill this son of a bitch… » He said solemnly, kissing tenderly her forehead. « And after, we can go to Disneyland or anywhere you'll like to go. deal ? »
The young woman nodded, her face still twisted with a pain Dean was too familiar with. There was no pain like losing his sibling and he wished he could just hold her until she had no more tears to shed before doing some digging to find a way of bringing her sister's back.
« Marina, my Angel » Sean said sweetly, his large hands cupping her face, slowly drying her cheeks with his thumbs. « Go with Emma to your room. You'll be safe there while we do our best to trap the Devil… »
The Irish's sweet kiss helped the youngest woman not to cry again for a moment, allowing her to accompany her inconsolable best friend upstairs.
« Tell me again what we're doing here ? » Dean asked, looking at Sam with suspicion, standing awkwardly in the Baronet's workshop.
« I don't know… Maybe we can find something here that could… » the tall hunter began, searching frenetically around him, stopping abruptly when his eyes fell on a crumpled piece of paper.
Taking it, Sam's eyes widened almost comically before he handed it to his brother.
« Recognize what this is ? »
« What do you want me to do with an engagement ring ? » Dean shook his head with disbelief.
« Can't you see, Dean ? None of this is making sense ! This Sharpe guy was obviously building Constance a ring to fucking propose ! » Sam pointed at the drawing, his voice high.
« Then, why did he dance the horizontal mambo with his sister ? » the older Winchester frowned, cocking his head to the side. « This makes no sense ! »
« Exactly ! » Sam exclaimed. « They were all lovey-dovey, honeymoon-phase of their relationship and then, he go shag his dead sister ? I mean, come one, the guy clearly has a bat in his dungeon but, this ?! Man, it's fucked up, even for him… »
« Admitting you might have a point here » Dean sighed, not really convinced « then, what the hell happened ? »
Taking a cautious step forward, Constance blinked rapidly, having some trouble believing her own eyes.
« Please, sit » the oldest one said with a gentle smile, pointing at the armchair with the new decease's name on it. « We will be having a long discussion… »
Shaking her head, Constance took a deep breath and steadied herself by putting her two hands on the back of the chair, feeling suddenly dizzy. All in her seemed to want to sit but a small voice in her head was screaming at her not to.
« I'm okay » she lied with a polite smile. « I don't mind staying up… ». The poor baby kept wailing, his red and puffy eyes fixed on her.
Slowly, Constance went near him, gently stroking his forehead with her thumb in a soothing motion just like her mum had taught her to.
« He is just sad to see another soul trapped here… » the one who held him explained with sadness. « I'm Enola, by the way, but you must have already noticed our names on the chairs. »
Constance nodded, at lost for words.
« You need to understand that Thomas, even if, we both know, has a lot of issues, he is not the kind of man to love easily. »
Some speak about love in a sweet way
Enchantment, romance and dizzy dream states
And some just wait and pace their cage
Some speak about love as a passion
As rapture and cries and sighs and gasps and
Some resign to yearn inside
These odes of tear stained banter and dew eyed candor
That wither in the world, the world that
Just deceives you and beats and bleeds you
And leaves lonely little girls
« He never loved any of us… » the woman who had to be Pamela sighed. « Maybe that's why he was so easily lulled in his demonic sister's arms. »
« He is the kind of man who is true to himself. I believe that, for so long, he thought that what he was doing with Lucille was right. » Margaret whispered tears in her eyes. « We all thought that one of us was going to be his salvation… that we would be the light he so desperately needed to find his way out of the darkness his sister had created around him… But it was not our destiny… »
« It was yours… » Pamela said softly, looking deep into Constance's eyes.
« I don't know what you're talking about ! » Constance sighed, tears welling in her eyes. « He went to his sister ! He abandoned me to be with her ! I saw… »
« What you saw is not the entire truth… » Enola whispered with sadness.
She went to place the sobbing baby in the now deceased woman's arms, lightly kissing his forehead before she resumed her saying.
« He would have never gone back to her if he hadn't had an ulterior motive. If he went in the attic, it was to work on something special… for you… but Lucille threatened you. She threatened to hurt you, to make you insane, to kill you if he didn't yield to her advances. He didn't want to but his love for you blinded his judgment and, to save you, he let his sister kiss him. »
Tears were now falling freely on Constance's cheeks. She held tightly the infant against her chest, his wail having diminished when she had started to cry, trying to find some comfort in the Baronet's son.
« I need to go » the words almost choked her as she spoke « They must know… My God, what have I done ?! »
Ah, the fallen and the burdened and the wreaths upon their grave
When they're broken there's no assurance they made a better place
Some speak about love in a kind way
The friend that won't leave and makes your day sane
As you bide and cringe and hide
Some wait for a stranger to touch and fill them
Some wait for the stranger who will kill them
And some just pace their lonely cage
With one dear doll who keeps you from crying but cries too
Silently inside
His eyes were shut close, his eyelids too heavy for him to open. Lying in his bed, the comfortable mattress beneath him made him feel like he was on a cloud. Turning on his side, he breathed deeply the pillow next to him, his soon-to-be fiancee scent feeling his nostrils. Sighing in contentment, he nuzzled his nose in the pillow, breathing as much as he could. All of this had been a dream. Constance was still alive, certainly arguing with her sister about him. Her side of the bed was cold but her scent still lingered on the bedding. All of this had to be a dream… Right ?
A sweet lullaby
Clasping my fragile heart
and whispering your name
Soft embrace in my sleep
Is this a dream or is it
Yet another nightmare of thee
Opening his eyes slowly, hiding the sunlight with his hand not to be blind, he listened carefully, hoping to hear her sweet voice from downstairs. But, all he could hear was the inconsolable sobbing of the small pink-haired French woman and the yelling of her boyfriend.
All his memories twirled and swirled in his mind, Constance falling over and over again. He could still feel the weight of her dead body in his arms, her blood wetting his shirt. No !... No !... It wasn't true !... She wasn't dead !... She was well and alive with her sister !... She was… She was… dead ! Tears rolled freely on his cheek, unbelievable pain squeezing his heart. A heart-broken yell escaped his thin lips, his sadness empowering all of his emotions. Taking her pillow, he hid his face in it, wishing to die, surrounded with her sweet scent.
Don't let this end
(it's cold now without your touch)
Wait on the other side
(my beautiful angel, rest in peace)
And I will slumber deep
(just please don't let this die)
I'll see you soon...
A soft knock on the door made him jump. Too tired to answer and too broken to see anyone, he held tighter Constance's pillow, wishing to choke with it, wishing to die to see her again. Without waiting for his answer, the door opened, its cracking sounds resounding threateningly in his ears. Soon enough, Rowena came into his bedroom, carrying a tray of hot soup, followed quickly by a red-eyed Marina. Reluctantly, he turned towards the two women, too tired to get up. It was clear the latest had been crying too over Constance, her cheeks still glistening with tears. Knowing for well he would break if he spoke, he mouthed a « sorry » to the young woman, seeing his grief reflecting in her eyes.
The sound of the plate meeting the night table startled him. He turned to see the witch smiling fondly at him, putting a lost strand of hair away from his forehead gently.
« Oh Tommy boy… You look truly awful… I prepare you a nice bowl of soup for you to strengthen up, handsome. »
Thomas sat, his back laying on the head-bed. Every movement seemed painful and seemed to cost him unbelievable energy. He took a deep breath, hoping to control the sob that strangled him before whispering while closing his eyes :
"I thank you but… I'm not hungry… I just want…"
The witch frowned, frowning her nose to show her disapprobation before sitting on the edge of the bed and taking the bowl of soup with a firm hand.
« Come on, open your mouth… » Rowena put the spoon near his mouth, forcing him to open it and drink his meal. « That's a good boy ! Now, you had to eat it all or you'll never get on your feet again… Come on, eat up !... »
Not wanting to upset her, even if he wasn't feeling like eating, he started to slowly take some spoons under the motherly eyes of the witch. After two or three, he put the plate back on the nightstand. Rowena stared the soup for a while as if it was an unbearable view, sighed loudly and forcing a smile on her face, turned toward the poor Baronet.
« Now Tommy boy, I know it's not a right time for you, with your new doll being murdered right under your beautiful blue eyes but we need you to be in your right state of mind… What a waste, though… She would have been a great new recruit for my mega-coven. I instantly felt the magical wave coming from her when I first saw her… Of course, I didn't say anything right away because you know… things like that must be revealed in finesse, furthermore, I have the impression she understood what I said just like I understood what she was saying… but trust me… she would have made a fine witch after I taught her a thing or two ! Actually, I was speaking about that with her sister and her friend last night, hoping to know if they could steer me in the right way to tell your little butterfly she would be a new member of my mega-coven ? Did I mention that… »
« What happened last night ? » Marina interrupted Rowena sharply, the question burning her lips.
She desperately wanted to know the truth and, if she had to hear one more time about this bloody mega-coven, she would strangle the witch !
« It was not what it seemed… » the Baronet whispered, opening his eyes to look deeply into Constance. « If I had known… Never would have to go in the attic… I just wanted for her to stay… here… with me… You were going to go… She was going home, she was going to leave me… I loved her so much… I want to ask her to… She was asleep in my arms… Her hand… so white and delicate and… I thought that if I asked for her hand, she would stay… But Lucille made me understand it was ridiculous… that never would she accept to marry a monster like me ! »
« And that's why you slept with your sister. Because you didn't support the idea of Constance saying no ? » Marina began to yell.
« No ! No, I didn't… Lucille made me… She threatened Constance… I was hoping, deep down, she would accept to stay… but she would never have been safe… Lucile swore to kill her and I…What could I have done ? She is ready to do everything to have what she wants… to destroy whatever stands in her way… She killed Father because he was hurting me… She said she would always be there to protect me, that she was the only one who loved me… but I was too young to realise it wasn't love… that what we were doing was wrong… She killed Mother when she saw us and tried to break us apart. She killed Margaret and Pamela when she got their money… What a brilliant idea !... Little Thomas, you will marry a rich heir with no family to save us from bankruptcy… no family, old and rich… You are a man, you can refuse to do some of your conjugal duty… If I was the one who have to marry a wealthy man, I wouldn't have the same chance and we would be apart… Marry Margaret… Marry Pamela… Smile and be charming! Stay faithful to me and give them this cup of tea! But Margaret's fortune was not enough… neither was Pamela's… We had to restore this house. And then, Lucille fell pregnant and we needed some more money. I married Enola… She liked children… She had promised to cure my son… but he was so weak… like his father… deformed… like Lucille and I's relationship… Lucille couldn't dare his cries… I came too late… This body seemed to be so small under this pillow… And Enola died… like the others… But with Edith, it was different… She was different… and I fell in love… Lucille… She told me that we had to stick together, that Edith knew too much…. that I would be hung… that I had to respect my promises… Always together, never apart… Edith saw us… but I didn't let Lucille kill her… Alan… Alan came to save her… and I had to save Constance… Lucille would have killed her… She wanted that I… that we… and Constance would have been saved…» Thomas whispered, his voice barely above a murmur, his head low, his hands hiding his face, hiding his shame…"
Marina paled at all the memories he was sharing with her. Seeing him like this, the soul bare for them to see, made her heart soften for him. If Lucille hadn't been the one who had raised Thomas, if she hadn't got out of the asylum, none of this would have happened. He had opened his eyes too late to see the monstrosity of his sister. If only he had known… She slowly took his hand and whispered without looking at him :
« She would have said yes… If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that she loved you… I know it's a little late but thank you for saving my life. I know what it cost you… what it all cost us… And I'm so angry at myself... I should have… »
« No… She would have wanted you to live… I'm the only one to blame… » Thomas shook his head, trying hard not to cry, the faint yelling of his late mother chastising him against crying in front of common people resounding in his ears.
Managing to suppress a sob, he gently took his jacket off of him and went to find something in his pocket. Angrily throwing the item on the floor, Marina's eyes widened when she saw what it was: a beautiful golden ring. Wait, was it what she thought it was? The engagement ring?
"Leave it there!" he spatted as the young French woman bend to retrieve it. "It doesn't matter anymore… She will never wear it…" A single tear rolled down his cheek as Marina looked at him with sadness.
A single man tear slips down his face
He showns emotions without a trace
He hides behind a mask so strong
Worried that he could be wrong
A single man tear
A single man tear
That's all we fear
Not listening to the Baronet, she took it from the floor, the delicate butterfly battling its wings beautifully with her breath. She had promised herself not to cry anymore but fighting her tears began harder and harder as she pictured her friend wearing this.
Just before she would finally let her emotions roll down, the door opened brusquely, letting a very angry Bobby and a very preoccupied Sean enter. Without a word, the old hunter let himself fall on the nearest chair, sighing loudly, his right hand holding firmly his gun.
"Now, come on, old grumpy caveman" Rowena spatted to Bobby, fury radiating from her small form. "Is that a way to enter your great-great-grandfather bedroom while he is sick?"
"Bullshit!" the hunter growled, taking off his cap to scratch his head. "This idjit's as sick as I am. Now, we need his goddam help to solve the bloody problem HE is the cause of!"
"Robert… Um Bobby…" Thomas straightened in his bed, diving his blue eyes in the one's of his descendant "I will do anything to help you. You are my only family, even if you don't see me as such. But you must promise me something in return…"
"Is that how it works now? Do I have to owe you a favour for you to repair your bloody mess?! Balls! Do I need to remind you you are the one who almost did it again with great-great-grand auntie upstairs?" Bobby asked, letting all his anger and frustration exploded.
"Once it's all over, I want to you find a way to effectively kill me." Thomas's words resounded just like the first nail on his coffin. "I cannot… I will not live in a world where she is not in. I owe you to revenge Edith by shouting me down. I beg you to put an end to my misery, Bobby. There is no one else I can trust enough to do it…"
"Charming…" Rowena sighed, rolling her eyes. "It's ridiculous! Bobby, you will never accept that… right?"
"Alright..." Bobby grouched, wriggling in his chair with uneasiness. "You build things, right? Then, it would not be a problem for you to create a cage of some sort to trap the Devil? Are you up to the task, grandpa?" Thomas' only answer was a sharp nod, mentally noting the old hunter hadn't said a thing about his execution.
The Baronet had locked himself in his study, a huge stack of crumpled paper surrounding him. He was going to send Lucifer back to Hell and the Devil would not be able to kill another innocent soul anymore.
Black as a crow is the space in which you
Leave me standing.
All the way down.
If you'd seen the light of day,
I'd hold you there tonight.
And if you'd seen the light we'd go,
All the way down.
Constance's bright eyes were haunting his memories, and, with them watching him with love, he worked hard, impatient to meet her again in the grave.
Up there in space,
You're looking down on us,
Looking all the way down.
And if you fell to Earth,
They have a name they call it, they say,
"All the way down."
If you burned your wings and fell into my arms,
You know I wouldn't mind being,
All the way down.
It was the only way to see her again, even if it was just for a second. He knew very well he probably had a special place in Hell for him and Constance had, without a doubt, gone straight into Heaven but if he had even a slight chance to take her in his arms again, to see her beautiful face, then it would be worth it.
I can't believe in Hell,
But I've got to believe in Heaven.
I wouldn't sleep at night not knowing,
That you were somewhere better.
If you burned your wings and fell into my arms,
You know I wouldn't mind being,
All the way down,
Scribbling plans and annotations, he kept remembering the look of pure smugness of Lucifer. Thomas was bringing him down today. He was bringing him down for Constance. He was bringing him down for his salvation.
I saw her eyes, I've never faced
That kind of look that haunted grace
The way she died so willing just
To die for love, to die for love
What kind of masters must I serve
That make this into such a world
Where one must kill such beauty and
Bring this to pass with such cruel hands
I perceive another place
And it must be built upon your grave
And I will bring you down
And if I fall someone will see
The way I went, just like she
With eyes of love and heart of light
They too will fight, they too will fight
Today I say it will begin
Today i will begin your end
Today the wind that comes, portends
Will be your end, will be your end
And I will bring you down
Several hours later, Thomas went downstairs, a bunch of paper in hand, several versions of the safest cage he could create. His head high, he walked in the living room without a trace of hesitation.
Putting down his hard work on the long table, he turned to face his guests but quickly froze as he saw a small fist flying to his face. Closing his eyes, he winced in pain at the violence of the punch, hearing nothing but the buzz of his ears due to the hit.
Droplets of blood ran off his nose, the crimson liquid tainting his collar. Slowly opening his eyes, he then saw Emma in all her wrath, her hair wild and her tear dripping eyes showing him nothing but pure disdain.
"You're dead!" she hissed, her voice surprisingly threatening. "You killed my sister… MY sister… There's nothing in the whole world that could keep me from skinning you alive so you could just feel an ounce of suffering I feel! I'll kill you, and that's a promise! You're dead!"
"Are we finished, now?" Crowley sighed. "As you may suppose, patience isn't one of my virtues. Well, I don't have any virtues… But if I did, I'm certain patience wouldn't be one. You're trying my non-patience!"
"Shut up!" Emma screamed, making everyone jump, her eyes never leaving the Baronet while she continued her death threats to him.
"I've never seen her like that" Marina whispered to the hunters, looking really uneased. "Is there a word that's a mix between "sad" and "mad"?"
"There are a few" Sam nodded, finding the way Thomas was reacting to the little pink-haired woman's threats quite disturbing. "Malcontented, disgruntled, miserable, desolated…"
"Smad!" Dean answered with a smirk, glad of his invention. "Aw, babe, you're so cute…" he then purred at Emma.
"Oh, so I'm cute when I'm angry? » she asked with a sly smile, pulling off a dirty knife of her sleeve. "Well, get ready, because I'm about to be drop-dead gorgeous!"
"Son of a bitch!" Dean mumbled as, thankful of his hunter's reflexes, he was able to stop her from stabbing a very passive Baronet in the heart, almost believing the knife stabbing was what he was waiting for. "Damn woman! Calm yourself! The little Baron here has obviously personal issues but it's not a reason to bloody murder him ! I think it's a little more complicated than it seems and you need to…"
"Stop treating me like a stupid kid, Dean!" Emma roared, turning her knife to the hunter.
"Then, stop acting like one!" he snapped back, immediately regretting his words as Emma's eyes filled with new tears, a look of betrayal in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that…"
He tried to reach for her but she kept taking steps back.
"I just wanted to say that not every goddamn problem in this house are the dude's fault. He didn't write the fucking prophecy, right?"
Shaking her head with disbelief, Emma had her back on the wall, tears falling freely on her cheeks. Her face was as white as Death, the knife shaking in her small hand. Gently, Marina came close to her friend, taking her in her arms, softly pulling the weapon away. Sean quickly caught it before it could fall on the ground and mentioned Marina to bring her friend upstairs. With a sad nod, she guided Emma to the stairs.
"Nice move, playboy…" Crowley whistled with mockery. "Now, she has to deal with her sister's death AND your yelling… And there I thought I would never have my Knight of Hell back!"
"Fuck off, Crowley!" Dean spat, shame washing over him.
"Thank you, Mister Winchester." Thomas thanked with a small voice. "I never thought I would have a friend in you but you took my defence here, even if it was painful for you facing the woman who holds your heart. I will forever be in your debt… Killing for the first time is an act that would have changed her forever… I wish to no one to live with this burden. But you can reassure her. My survival is not an option I consider and she will have her revenge without having her hands tainting with blood… I took care of this ! »
"Oh, bugger off! » the hunter sighed with exaggeration. "Why couldn't this Apocalypse be a simple one for change? Is it too much to ask for?"
"Well, I don't know about you but the fastest we can get Luci in his cage, the better" the King of Hell said with a chill. "He's in this house you know… I can feel him… watching us…"
"Oh, stop whining, my little paranoid baby" Rowena rolled her eyes. "Don't you think the Mighty Satan has somewhere better to be than here? Seriously, Fergus?"
"Yeah, maybe you should see a shrink, Fergus" Sam winked at the demon, purring his real name. "Lucifer is long gone and hopefully, as far away from here we could hope so we can build his damn cage peacefully."
Mimicking his mother and Moose with their grand air, Crowley sat down and pouted, crossing his arms.
"Oh, come on!" Dean growled, hot steam almost burning him as he took a burning piece out of the Baronet's machine.
This was fucking crazy. There was still a hope to avoid the goddam Apocalypse by building him another cage. Inconveniently, all they had was this infernal machine with rusty and broken pieces. The blue-blooded jackass had locked himself again in his workshop, not talking to anyone, to work on the plan which seemed the most appropriate to hold this good old Lucifer while Rowena, her son and Lucky Charms were working on the sigils and spells that needed to be put on the Devil's trap. And of course, it was Dean that had been chosen to go outside, braving the dreadful weather, to bring back what Sam and Bobby could use. He shivered when a cold squall of wind engulfed his jacket. Bloody Hell, it was freezing! Why couldn't he stay inside, staying to comfort Emma for her to cuddle in his arms and wet his shirt with her tears? Why couldn't he go and apologize properly to her?
Mumbling under his breath, he took some metal gears inside the house, throwing them on the floor at his brother's feet.
"That's it! If you want some more, go fetch them yourself!" the hunter sighed, going straight to the fireplace to warm himself. "I'm not going to turn myself into a bloody snowman for this, Sammy!"
Sam huffed and rolled his eyes, rolling his sleeves past his elbows to not stain his shirt before picking up some pieces.
"Maybe it's time for you to make a call to Castiel;" the youngest American sighed. "Sean doesn't know all the angelic sigils and…"
« Why is it always gotta be me who makes the call, huh? It's not like Cas lives in my ass, the dude's busy! » Dean growled but jumped back when he felt Castiel's hand fell on his shoulder. Jumping again, the hunter shrieked :
« Cas, get out of my ass! »
« I was never in your... » the angel started, looking confused.
« Cas is back ! » Dean smirked, patting the angel's back with a proud smile.
Tracing a line with his ruler, Thomas blinked several times to adjust his vision. A dreadful headache was pounding in his ears, making him feel dizzy. He wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand, trying to stay focused but everything was becoming blurry. Circles turned into squares while straight lines undulated like snakes. Shaking his head in a desperate attempt to fight nausea, he felt himself falling deeper and deeper into darkness.
Blinking his eyelids rapidly, the Baronet found himself dumbstruck to see again the oh-so-familiar faces of his first dead wife. Pamela was smiling softly at him and, to his amazement, she was standing on her frails legs, free on her wheelchair. She tucked a strand on his hair behind his ear affectionately, her small eyes shining with unshared passion as she whispered softly : « She is waiting for you… » Taking her thin hand, he got up from the ground where he had laid unconscious mere seconds ago, his eyes recognising without a doubt Margaret, his second wife, her greying hair glistening with the firelight, sitten elegantly, a soft smile on her lips and sweet Enola who was holding lovingly his only son.
You cannot wish the genie back to life
You can't erase the bad times from your mind
Sometimes the hero does not come in time
Only after it doesn't matter
And then, there she was. « Constance » her name escaped his lips in a plea. Her eyes were bright with understanding, fresh tears making her cheeks shine like a faery. Constance, who was waiting for him with a sad smile and open arms, her white nightgown having no trace whatsoever of her blood. Falling on his knees, he hugged tight her waist, just like a fervent prayer as he kept repeating her name with adoration.
You and I, it was the sweetest life
You wore a different scent, with different eyes which I admired
Yoou weren't the girl you are before you died
So long ago flew. Do i know you?
Gently ruffling his soft hair, the young woman fought back her tears.
« I know why you did it, Thomas » Constance whispered softly. « I forgive you… All is forgiven… »
His bright blue eyes met hers, holding so many questions and so much love it almost broke her already dead heart. She let herself fall on the ground too, her knees meeting the floor with grace, her small arms wrapping on his sobbing form.
« I'm sorry… I'm sorry… So sorry… » he finally managed to say between his tears. « You died because of me… I can't… I… I am sorry… You all died because of me… I would gladly die to bring you back… All of you… I'm sorry… »
The moth cannot be as before cocooned
The mermaid cannot but dream that she flew
I cannot see in you the boy i knew
So long after. Does it matter?
Whispering soothing words in his ear, Constance succeeded to bring him back to his feet and wiped his tears off his face. She frowned when he winced as she brushed past his nose. The infant startled them when he began to wail softly, apparently not used to not be at the centre of the attention. Slowly, Constance took his hand to bring Thomas to his son. With gentle care, Enola laid the child in his father's shaking arms. The look of pure love and adoration in the Baronet's eyes melted the women's heart, making all of them smile as the infant outstretched his tiny hand in an attempt to catch one of Thomas's tresses. The young man chuckled lightly when the baby finally managed to catch his father's hair, pulling at them as strong as he could.
I cannot keep the boy I held so tight.
I couldn't know our dream would take our lives.
I wish for you a better life this time
« We know the truth, Thomas » the sweet voice of Pamela startled the Baronet who apparently had a hard time keeping his eyes away from his son. « You were once a monster, it is true but, in your own twisted way, you didn't know what you did was wrong. You have a chance to prove to us the kind of man you can be without your sister… Stand against evil and live a better life. »
« I can't… The Devil… Lucille… » Thomas whispered sadly, his gaze returning to the now sleepy infant.
« We can help you, Thomas… » Constance said calmly, putting a cold hand on his cheek. « We will be there at each step, watching you, protecting you… You need to let your past go, Thomas. Save the World for the Apocalypse, make Lucille go away from your house and live, Thomas… Live ! »
« I can't… » He sobbed softly, putting the sleeping baby softly in his crib and hugging the young woman in his arms, clinging to her with as much as despair as love. « I cannot leave you, I cannot leave him… I can't… ».
His breath was cut short, like someone had knocked the air out of his lungs. Clinging to Constance with one hand to avoid falling, Thomas's body began to shake violently.
« I don't feel so good… » he whispered, trying hard to keep focusing on the people inside of this room. « I don't want to go… I don't want to go… I don't wanna go… » he kept repeating like a mantra before the pull in his chest went too strong for him to ignore anymore.
Diving into Constance's eyes, he managed three final words before disappearing in a flash :
« I am sorry. »
Unknown bright blue eyes were looking down at him, fixing him with perplexity. Thomas blinked rapidly, his vision blurry from the tears he didn't know he was shedding, trying to understand his surroundings and more importantly, why he had been forced away to them ?
« Who are you ? » the Baronet's voice came out rough, clearly having been unused for quite some time.
« We need to talk, Thomas » the stranger answered with an odd calm. « I'm Castiel. I'm an Angel of the Lord. »
Thomas looked at him with venom, studying his small frame, remembering all too well that there was already an Angel in his house and that said Angel hadn't been able to protect or heal the love of his life, before muttering :
« Get out of here… Why would another Angel come here willingly ? »
« Good things do happen, Thomas… » Castiel said, looking straight into his eyes.
« Not in my experience ! It's too late… She's… » the Baronet whispered, his head falling on his chest as he sighed sadly, new tears falling on his cheeks.
« What's the matter ? » Castiel asked, cocking his head on the side. « You don't think you deserved to be saved… Sir Thomas Sharpe, Baronet, owner of Allerdale Hall, you are a protector. God has a job for you. He had written it at the very Dawn of Days and only you can do it. You are the only one who's able to close the Gates of Hell. Well, at least the ones which are located in your basement. You, Thomas, are supposed to protect this world from perdition. »
« Why me ? » the Baronet asked, tiredness clearly written in his eyes. « I did things… terrible things… I wasn't even good enough to stop the prophecy… »
« God works in a mysterious way. In his eyes, you are worthy. And that's all that matters. » the Angel put a recomforting hand on his shoulder. « You will close the Gates by losing a person you once loved. It's the only way… »
« A person I once loved ? Has losing my son not been enough ? Has losing Constance not been enough ? Like you could see, I already lost all my loved ones… I fear I have nothing else to lose, Mister Castiel… You must have git the wrong person… God should have mistaken me for someone else… I can't do what you all are expecting from me… » Thomas shouted, tears pooling in his eyes.
« You may not believe in him but He believes in you. » Castiel said, his eyes showing him nothing but the truth. « And I believe in you too. You will succeed before Christmas ends or the whole world will be doomed. »
There'll be scary ghost stories
And tales of the glories
Of Christmases long, long ago
It's the most wonderful time of the year
There be much mistletoe-ing
And hearts will be glowing
When loved ones are near
It's the most wonderful time
To Be Continued