Thank you to Dragondancer81, Windschatten, and SilverD15 for your lovely reviews!
I didn't think I'd get this posted until after Christmas . . .
I don't know how I feel about this chapter, I feel like it's lacking something. Usually I write about three drafts before posting-but I wanted to post this, so here it is after the first draft! I hope you enjoy it. So it picks up at the end of the last chapter, parts have been taken from the episode Are You There God? Slowly we're getting to the Valtushard plot, I don't want to rush into it and I'm wanting to have Wendy along with Sam and Dean for awhile before really getting into the gritty bits of her plot. I want to build her relationships with both Sam and Dean, and Gabriel instead of jumping right into everything-there's a lot of stories out there that do that, and that's one of my pet peeves so I'm trying really hard not to do that, haha.
Also, if anyone is interested there's a playlist up on my profile for this story.
Mind any mistakes you come across! I'll go through once more to fix any.
If you're feelin' kind, leave me a review.
Chapter Six
"Isn't it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?"
- L.M. Montgomery
Chapter Quote: "Oh, fuck me."
In the last twenty minutes Wendy had learned that angels are old, they couldn't die (not really anyway), they had the ability to exercise their own will, there was a lot of them, and they performed the will of God. All of this was well know things about the biblical beings. Nothing really gave Wendy an answer to what else they were really capable of aside from helping humans.
So she began her own research, which was about her own angel; not that he even belonged to Wendy because of course she didn't own him, and this was also on the theory that he even was an angel. Bobby's copy of the book of Enoch was very helpful with her search. It was written between the Old and New Testament and references Gabriel as an archangel; a messenger who was entrusted to deliver several important messages on God's behalf. Reading those words made Wendy paused—staring blankly ahead at nothing in particular as she stopped herself from having a mild panic attack over the new found information of the possibility that she was dealing with an archangel—and set her book down on the arm of the lounge to make herself a tea. Upon visiting the kitchen and searching the cupboards relentlessly, the blonde could only find coffee, which was something Wendy wouldn't consume even if her life depended on it. So she settled for sculling two glasses of water; letting the cool liquid chill her body from the inside before finally sinking back into the couch and forcing herself to resume reading.
Wendy outright snorted when she read that Gabriel was the angel to inform Mary she would conceive and bare a son, calling the attention of Dean who eyed her suspiciously before he gloomily went back to reading, She could just imagine how the whole ordeal went down; she liked to think that Gigi would have just come right out and said it without any form of a segway whatsoever. The research also educated her to the little detail of Gabriel being the angel of annunciation, revealing that the Saviour would be named 'Jesus', and also naming another child 'John' who later became 'John the Baptist'.
Wendy didn't know what to make of the new information; she didn't think she believed in God—a lot of awful things have come about over the argument of which religion was the right religion. And growing up in a small town where the primary religion was Christianity and the majority of people were religious zealots, well, it made Wendy hesitant to even really consider that Gabriel was that Gabriel. The blonde along with her grandmother had been called a number of things from the enthusiast of the Church—witch (that one was true, so Wendy most defiantly had to give a point for that), demon, harlot, etcetera. Faintly she wounded if Gigi thought like that, would she be treated as such the next time she saw him? Wendy didn't think so, but that couldn't be said for other angels; if she were to ever meet another.
It was surprising how much the blonde missed the golden eyed man considering she barely knew him. Well, sort of. But really, a handful of days together before Gabriel was gone again, and Wendy missed him. She wasn't sure if she's ever felt that way over someone she had only recently came into contact with. It seemed a little strange even to her, to catch herself thinking of him when her mind began to wander. What would he say about Samuel and Dean? Would he be alarmed to find her gone from her grandmother's home? Perhaps he wouldn't care, wasn't interested in her endeavours at all. The witch didn't know how she felt about that train of thought.
Wendy fiddled with the talisman around her neck, dragging the Hag Stone back and forth along the chain; gazing down at the sigil carved into the surface. It resembled a 'J' with the right side of its hat left incomplete and the left side having a small vertical line through it. In the middle of the small fanciful 'J' laying horizontally—was a lightning bolt, the end of it angled sharply downwards, and to finish it off was a small circle that sat just above the curve of the letter. Wendy exhaled slowly, leaning her head back against the couch, letting her mind wander off towards her grandmother. She would have thought she'd receive a phone call by now, but her phone never told her of any missed calls and Bobby hasn't received any himself.
Maybe Wendy should have apologised for pushing her grandmother on a subject she didn't want to talk about. But on the other hand, didn't Wendy have a right to know? To be told that there was a reason for Eleanor's choice of blocking Wendy and keeping her in the dark? The pathetic excuse of her sanity being used against her just made Wendy angry, to have it thrown in her face by the one person that was supposed to be on her side . . . it was heart wrenching; made her want to curl up into a ball and disappear.
"Sam," said Dean, cutting through Wendy's thoughts from the desk with his cell phone held to his ear. "You better not forget my pie." He paused as Samuel spoke, rolling his eyes grumbling something into the phone.
"An' chips." Wendy chirped loud enough for Dean to hear as she curled her legs up onto the couch, bringing her focus back to the book she held in her hands and not to the swirling negative thoughts she was thinking before. Don't tell me what to do. His thoughts trickled into her mind, but he relayed the request back to Samuel, glaring at her while he did so. Dean had half a mind not to remind Samuel at all, but he wanted chips to.
Bobby walked back into the room about ten minutes later, hanging up his own cell phone and sliding it into his back pocket as he came to a stop at the edge of the room, garnering both Wendy's and Dean's attention. "I got a friend one state over—Olivia Lowry. I've been tryin' to reach her for three days on this angel thing. It's not like her to ignore this many calls."
"Hunter?" Dean inquired, getting to his feet in one swift movement. Bobby gave him a nod. "We'll head out when Sam gets back." Dean slid his eyes over towards Wendy who sat listening intently to the two while trying to look like she wasn't doing just that. "You stay here."
"If ya'll insist." Wendy mused quietly while flipping a page of her book. "What better place t' leave ah Valkaras, than ah room filled with books an' ingredients t' some extremely powerful spells?"
Bobby hid his amusement well, but it simmered up inside Wendy as she hid small smile behind her book and eyed the two from over the cover. Bobby slid his eyes over to Dean who stood clenching his jaw and looking at the witch with disdain. "She's got a point."
"Fine." Dean agreed curtly, turning his head a little at the sound of his car pulling up outside and commanded: "Get in the car."
Wendy bounced up to her feet and placed the worn fraying book upon the coffee table, grinning brightly at the two hunters as she gambolled her way outside while they gathered together a 'go bag' and hauled it outside and over to Bobby's '71 Chevelle. She situated herself into the back seat of the Impala and smiled dreamily at the younger sibling.
"Uh, hello." Samuel greeted the tiny blonde with a perplexed look.
"Hello," Wendy replied softly, running her eyes over his face and thinking that he looked a little displeased. She could faintly detect the feeling of dejection and briefly considered letting her shields down to pry, but instead she simply asked: "What's got'ya lookin' so down?"
"I'm fine." He shifted under her scrutiny then spied Bobby coming towards him, bending down to speak to Samuel from the window and giving him a run down about the situation.
Dean approached the driver's side and Wendy watched as Samuel slid over to the passenger side with ease after the elder told him to move. Grabbing the plastic bag with goodies from Samuel, Dean eagerly dug through the content searching for the dessert he asked for. Disappointment that didn't belong to her rushed through Wendy as he screwed up his face at the bag.
"Dude."
"Yeah?"
"Where's the pie?"
Samuel shrugged; lips pulled in. "Must've forgot it."
"You get the witch chips, but forgot my pie?" Dean countered with a furrowed brow before glancing down and glowering at the small boned hand as it reached into the bag and snagged the large packet of Cheetos.
"Thank ya', Samuel."
They pulled up in front of the small unassuming home where a beaten up Hyundai sat in the driveway. Wendy let the walls come down around her mind just a tad, just enough to reach out and see if this Olivia person was alright. All she received was raw residual anger being doused on her, but no person. Wendy quickly built the walls back up again, taking a breath to still the urge to absorb it, and followed the boys out of the car—watching on as they grabbed various weapons to arm themselves with. Wendy wasn't surprised that the boys didn't give her one, but she happily accepted the shotgun Bobby handed her and listened as he gave her a brief lesson on how to use it.
"There isn't anyone home." Wendy voiced tranquilly, standing on the sidewalk just behind the other three, and gazing at the house that loomed in front of them ominously. It wasn't what she pictured the woman to be living in—Wendy assumed they would've found Olivia living in a small neglected apartment block like most hunters if they were to stay in one spot, but instead they found her home in a nice unassuming neighbourhood, though it was still small but well-kept with a little tree growing in the front yard.
"How would you know? Maybe she's asleep." Dean shot back brazenly, not even glancing in her direction as the four of them moved towards the front door.
"She's not." Dean muttered a 'whatever' under his breath at her soft spoken remark.
Bobby entered the house first after he jimmied the lock, followed by Dean, Samuel and the tiny blonde witch. The wave of primitive rage seemed to punch Wendy full force in the gut, taking an immense amount of effort not to have a physical reaction to the emotion. Wendy took a breath, steadying herself—pushing her walls up and slamming everything she had against them to keep them standing.
The group didn't have to search for long, coming upon Olivia lying in a heap on the floor of the living room, bloody and contorted; chest violently pried apart. Wendy swallowed down the bile that tried to make its way up her throat while Bobby turned away, lowering the shotgun and rubbing at his face before taking out his phone, and leaving the house.
Dean called after him but Samuel stole his attention by pointing to the archway he walked over and stating: "Salt line" while he crouched down next to Olivia as Wendy walked around the small room to try and keep her wandering eyes away from the corpse on the floor. She didn't find many personal items; only an awful lot of left over fury in the aftereffects of Olivia's death.
"Olivia was rocking the EMF meter." Dean's gruff voice cut into the silence as he held up the device and showed his brother.
"Spirit Activity." Samuel nodded, coming back to his full height though his shoulders were slightly hunched.
"Yeah—on steroids. I've never seen a ghost do this to a person." Bobby entered the room after Dean trailed off while eyeing the witch from across the room. She lingered near the bookshelf seemingly harmless, gazing at the few photo frames there. Dean snapped his gaze back over to the older hunter, "Bobby, you alright?"
"I called some hunter nearby—"
"Good. We can use their help." Dean pointed out, placing the electronic device back where he found it.
"—Expect they ain't answering their phones either." Bobby finished looking forlorn.
"Something's up, huh?" Sam spoke up, scratching at his clean shaven chin.
"You think?" Bobby walked out of the room, grief welling up inside. Wendy's fingers flexed instinctively around the shotgun she still grasped to take the pain away, but managed to withhold. Emotional pain such as grief and anger was so much heavier than physical pain; easier to absorb—harder to manage—difficult to twist and mould to her liking, challenging to not let it consume her and let it go.
"It was angry." Wendy said instead, coming over to look down at Olivia's cold body, noticing that her lovely brown eyes remained wide open. She stooped down and closed the woman's piercing orbs; giving Olivia the illusion of a peaceful sleep if Wendy ignored all the crusted red liquid and the open chest.
"What?"
"Tha' spirit," Wendy stated, peering up at Dean. "It's was angry . . . very, very angry."
They split from Bobby after that, he was going to check on another hunter, and the trio decided to travel to Jackson to visit someone named Jed. They found him the same way they found Olivia. When Dean gave Bobby the bad news Wendy could hear the sigh through the phone. It was decided that they would head back to Bobby's and figure the whole thing out from there. The car was silent as Samuel drove with Dean passed out in the passenger seat sleeping peacefully. For about an hour Wendy gazed out the window, listening to the low tunes of Queen before Dean's emotions started knocking against her shield. Curiously she let the emotions run across her person; panic and fear whirled around inside him and Wendy leant forward, reaching out—touching the tip of her index finger to his spikey cheek. The Valkaras flinched a little as flashes of his dream ran through her mind before she blocked the violent images out.
"What're you doing?" Samuel questioned softly, glancing over at her before snapping his eyes back to the road.
"He's havin' ah' bad dream." Wendy responded just as quietly and stroked his cheek, feeling the prickles of stubble while morphing his emotional state into something more calming—watching as Dean visibly relaxed, letting out a heavy sigh and shifted just a smidge before becoming peaceful once more.
"What's he dreaming about?" Samuel asked lowly, casually, like Wendy couldn't tell he was fishing for something she knew he knew she wouldn't divulge to him.
"I'm not tellin' ya'." She retorted in a quiet singing tone and leant back against the car seat.
"So you can really do that, huh? Twist people around and get inside their heads?" Samuel asked instead once he finally stopped himself from smiling at her attitude, but he still sounded a little sceptical about the whole thing.
"Yea," Wendy answered honestly, shifting to fold her legs up underneath herself and watching his grip tighten on the steering wheel. "Most days I can block it: tha' thoughts. Emotions trickle through regularly; I 'spect it's 'cause I'm'mah Empath first an' ah mind-reader second."
"How did you get . . ." Samuel trailed off and wiggled his fingers near his head.
"It happened when I was little, 'round 'bout three." Wendy paused, looking out the window and observing while the car drove by the dark fields of nothingness, not even the moon was visible due to the cloud cover. "I was with my ma'. It was time for bed an' she was brushin' my hair—singin' while she did it, y'know, that song from tha' Wizard of Oz? Ma' always found it funny how much I liked that movie. But I remember her feelin' scared, eyes goin' all wide like when she looked at me . . . Glass broke, I think—I remember tha' sound, an' tha' Valtushard had found us."
"So, you've met them before? You could tell us what they look like?" Samuel fired off, his brow creasing as his mind raced in a million different directions, searching for the answers he didn't yet have.
"I remember that she was beautiful an' she touched my face—that was when I got tha' telepathy . . ." Wendy rubbed at her jaw, still feeling the bite of the sharp purple nails digging into her skin. "I wasn't good at keepin' everythin' under control, so I kinda' stole 'em, I guess . . . But then there was this light—all bright an' pretty, an' when it disappeared I was standin' in my Pops study." Wendy smiled faintly, remembering the look on her grandfather's face. "He was awfully surprised t' see me."
"I'm sorry about your mom." Samuel said gently, he glanced at her in the review mirror and offered her a small smile.
"An' I'm sorry 'bout yours." Samuel didn't even look surprised by her words, just took it in stride.
"You've been inside my head?" He asked rhetorically, already coming to the conclusion that she has.
"Yes. When I first met ya'll. I try not t' do that, but y' were lookin' for Grams." Wendy raised her silver eyes and met his own hazel ones that seemed to hold little sunflowers within them; surrounding the pupil with tiny petals. Her expression softened, "I know 'bout it y'know. It's eatin' at y'. Wanna' help people—but what y' doin' . . . it's tha' easy way, not tha' right way."
Samuel let out a choked scoff, shaking his head a little which rustled his mop of hair. "No offense Wendy, but you don't know me." He patronized the witch lightly, a scornful little smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"I know ah' lot'ah thangs." Wendy met his gaze in the review mirror once more. She didn't appreciate the attitude she received from him, though Wendy supposed she understood. Here she was, a person he barely knew, telling him what was inside his head. People didn't like that, they weren't comfortable with having their actions, emotions and thoughts viewed they way she viewed them. "I know y' crave it, want it. Think about it all tha' time, makes y' fidgety; irritable." His annoyance at her flared. "It's makin' y' dark."
The glare he was giving her melted away into big sad eyes. Samuel looked back to the road and cleared his throat. "Dark?"
"Yea." She agreed softly, spotting the gas station on the left, watching as Samuel merged into the next lane over to pull into the complex and coming to a stop beside a gas pump. "Wearin' ah good mask, Samuel, but tha' cracks ah startin' t' show."
They sat together in the silence of the car.
"Don't—" he cut himself off. Don't tell Dean. "You can call me Sam." He said instead, looking at the small store connected to the gas station and twisted his body around to look at the blonde.
"I like Samuel." Wendy spoke softly so she wouldn't wake the older sibling.
He stared at her for a moment, brow furrowed up in thought, and after a beat of quiet, "You want anything?"
"Some water would be nice."
Samuel gave her a bob of his head and exited the vehicle, his tall lean form straightening and stretching once he was out before wandering over to the island dispenser to put the gas pump in the car, and then walking off towards the restroom while the fuel tank replenished itself. Wendy sat silently in the car, hands tucked away into the pockets of her jacket, the fingers of her right hand fiddling with the old copper key that hid there; running them along the nicked metal while watching the numbers tick over as Dean shifted twice—though not from another unpleasant dream; in fact he was quite happy and content.
She was smacked in the face with fury.
Wendy inhaled sharply and straightened in her seat, unclipping her seat belt, and scooted forward to lean her chin on the front seat beside Dean's head—frowning out the windshield into the dark to try and see if she could catch a glimpse of what was causing the wrath. Wendy hadn't seen Samuel enter the small store nor had he returned back to the car. She shed her walls the tiniest bit, immensely cautious as to not let the anger take hold. Wendy inhaled once more as her heart began to pick up in speed, clenching her jaw; the ire almost being able to mask the underlying hint of Samuel's pain that ached at Wendy's temple. The shield restored with a mental heave as the blonde turned and poked the side of Dean's face, shooting him with a blast of adrenaline.
"Holy—" Dean awoke with a gasp, screwing up his face in sleepy confusion as he stared bleakly at the blonde that's face was too close to his own.
"I'm ninety-five percent sure that Samuel's bein' attacked." Wendy told him sagely.
"What?" Dean rubbed his face, hearing the car door open and close. He followed after the Valkaras in a rush, striding around to the trunk of the car where Wendy was already stood and waiting. "Only ninety-five percent?"
"He could'ah slipped over an' is jus' real cranky 'bout it." Wendy gave the gruff man a small shrug. Dean rolled his eyes at the comment, popping the boot and reaching for one of the shotguns that was securely strapped in, swiftly undoing the restraints and closing the trunk—not even bothering to offer Wendy any form of protection, which was fine in the blonde's book because she didn't think she'd need a shotgun or the salt rounds it held within.
"Where'd he go?"
"Bathroom."
Wendy followed after Dean, quickening her steps to keep up with his long stride that was becoming increasingly frantic in the search for Samuel. The locked door to the small grimy restroom didn't stop him as he kicked in the flimsy barrier, firing off at the raging spirit who stood hovering over Samuel's tall form and watching it disappear into nothing.
Wendy stepped around Dean to crouch beside the younger sibling, reaching out and brushing her fingers against his brow and allowing the ache he felt to trickle into her—the throb of pain against her temple was immediate; constant, but she kept the connection as Dean hauled Samuel to his feet.
Samuel blinked down at her in surprise, "Thanks."
Wendy straightened Samuel's heavy jacket, dusting some lint off the sleeve. Her face brightened when she gave him a dreamy smile, "That's better." The blonde glanced up, watching his lips jerk as he literally looked down at her tiny form. Wendy's eyes narrowed slightly, "No short jokes, now." She wagged her finger up at him.
"I would never stoop so low." Samuel counted, lips stretching into a full blown grin while watching the witch's and Dean's face both scrunch up in distaste.
They got the whole thing with the witnesses done and dealt with after hiding out in the panic room for the majority of the day. The witch patched up Bobby extremely well when Ghost Meg jammed her whole freaking fist into his back, and when Dean asked where Wendy had learnt basic medical training she told him outright that she essentially photocopied the memories for her town doctor; said it like it didn't sound absolutely bat-shit crazy, and after her confession she knocked back a small vial filled with a thick green liquid like a shot of tequila, went on about how whenever she thought about the black market, she pictured an actual market with little stalls selling illegal things like nuclear weapons and organs. And then frolicked off to bed.
Dean didn't know whether to be impressed with Wendy or even more suspicious. Sure, she was immensely helpful when they were dealing with the ghostly rampage, easily knocking back the spirits of dead victims with that freaking Empath shit she could do. The quiescent blonde seemed to become more unhinged every time she used her abilities; prattling on about how she had a great aunt that stabbed her husband on their anniversary and he decided not to divorce her because he didn't want a custody battle over the pigs. Which freaked him the fuck out; knowing that she could take down something that wasn't even breathing any more sent a shiver down his spine, plus having the witch then become unbalanced didn't fill Dean with confidence. Seeing the way Meg's physical form contorted, the unnaturally pained wail she released as Mad Madam Mim worked her mojo over the spirit bought Dean enough time to shoot the chandelier above Meg, letting them make their escape. But fuck did watching the petite blonde do that terrify the crap out of him. In all honesty it made him want to drive her back to Eleanor's and throw her at the older witch all the while bellowing the word 'Nope!'. Dean had enough on his plate dealing with trench coat guy, his brother acting shady, and dealing with the nightmares.
Bobby and The Good Witch of the North were both sleeping upstairs, with Blondie taking the only other available bed while Sam and Dean were made to deal with the floor and the couch. He awoke to the sound of fluttering, the sound resembling bird wings, and slowly blinked his eyes open; eyesight blurry as he looked around the darkened room for the cause of the noise. Rolling his head over to the kitchen and found a shadowed figure leaning against the counter, he was just able to make out the trench coat while his eyes adjusted to the dark. Dean stood slowly as to not wake Sam, knees groaning in protest whilst he moved towards the angel.
Dean wanted to punch the fucker in the face, glowering at the angel as he stalked closer to it. Why the hell was it showing up now, standing in Bobby's kitchen like it didn't have a care in the world? The angel's expression was vacant of any emotion, and Dean ran his eyes over it, looking for any sign of hostility and a weapon, though found neither.
"Excellent job with the witnesses." The angel's rough voice complimented with a tilt of its head.
"You were hip to all this?" Dean's brow lowered as he took another intimidating step closer.
The angel nodded, looking down awkwardly before flicking his blue gaze back to Dean. "I was, uh, made aware."
"Well, thanks a lot for the angelic assistance. You know, I almost got my heart ripped out of my chest." Dean spoke harshly, keeping his voice low as he turned to look back at Sammy shifting position on the couch.
The angel looked him over critically, "But you didn't".
"I thought angels were supposed to be guardians," Dean ran his tongue along his teeth, his irritation leaking through as he watched the stoic angel not even bat an eye. "Fluffy wings, halos—you know, Michael Landon. Not dicks."
"Read the bible." Dean raised his brows at the sassy retort. "Angels are warriors of God. I'm a soldier."
"Yeah? Then, why didn't you fight?"
"I'm not here to perch on your shoulder." The angel shot back with a bite to its words, eyes flashing dangerously. "We had larger concerns."
"Concerns? There were people getting torn to shreds down here!" Dean growled back at it, watching as the angel gave a small sigh, like Dean's anger towards the whole situation wasn't just, which only motivated him to become even more agitated. "And, by the way, while all this is going on, where the hell is your boss, huh, if there is a God?"
"There's a god." Castiel replied immediately—protectively over a figure Dean didn't even want to begin to comprehend.
"I'm not convinced, 'Cause if there's a God, what the hell is he waiting for, huh? Genocide? Monsters roaming the earth? The freaking apocalypse?" Dean listed off callously, voice deepening as he did so—watching the angel exhale while taking the verbal assault. "At what point does he lift a damn finger and help the poor bastards that are stuck down here?"
"The Lord works—"
"If you say 'mysterious ways,' so help me, I will kick your ass." Castiel threw its hands up and thumped them back down on the counter at its back, lips pulled thin. It took Dean a moment to register what that meant; he almost wanted to laugh—because of course. He blinked hard—the fucking apocalypse. Dread gripped at him, as he meant the angels stare, finding it giving him a strained look. "So, Bobby was right, about the witnesses. This is some kind of a . . . sign of the apocalypse."
"That's why we're here." Castiel gave a slight nod. "Big things afoot."
"Do I wanna' know what kind of things?"
The angel raised a brow and a tilt of its head said: "I sincerely doubt it, but you need to know. The rising of the witnesses is one of the sixty-six seals."
"Okay." Dean squinted. "I'm guessing that's not a show at Seaworld." The angel's lips twitched ever so slightly at his sarcasm that Dean almost missed it.
"Those seals are being broken by Lilith." The angel informed Dean.
"She did the spell. She rose the witnesses." Dean concluded, realisation dawning on his features.
"Castiel hummed in agreement, "And not just here. Twenty other hunters are dead."
"Of course." Dean gave a scoff, "she picked victims that the hunters couldn't save so that they would barrel right after us."
"Lilith has a certain sense of humour . . ." Castiel trailed off, placing its hands into the pockets of the trench coat.
"Well, we put those spirits back to rest." It was done and dusted; taken care of. If they righted the wrong everything was good. That's how it's always has been for the brothers, but judging by the overwrought look on the angels face he knew that this time—from here on out it wasn't going to be simple any more. If simple was even the right word to describe the past.
Castiel's lips pulled down and gave a stiff shrug. "It doesn't matter. The seal was broken."
Dean felt himself crack just a little bit at those words. His jaw clenched as he brought himself to ask: "Why break the seal anyway?"
"You think of the seals as locks on a door." Dean watched closely as the angel looked reluctant to explain, eyes not meeting his as he stared it down.
"Okay. Last one opens and . . ." Dean probed impatiently, resisting the urge to tap his foot.
The angel stood to its full height, turning to face Dean with a blank face and tone neutral before speaking with finality, "Lucifer walks free."
"Lucifer?" Dean gave a small scoff, shaking his head, brows rising as he eyed the angel. "I thought Lucifer was just a story they told at demon Sunday school. There's no such thing."
Castiel's lips twitched in amusement, "Three days ago, you thought there was no such thing as me." It paused for a moment, looking up at Dean who had a slight height advantage. "Why do you think we're here walking among you now for the first time in two-thousand years?"
"To stop Lucifer."
Castiel gave a slow nod, "That's why we've arrived."
Dean licked his lips with his head cocked to the side, sarcasm dripping from his voice while he leaned against the counter. "Well . . . bang-up job so far. Stellar work with the witnesses. That's nice."
"We tried. There are other battles, other seals. Some we'll win, some we'll lose. This one we lost." The angel's eyes narrowed as it watched Dean sneer and roll his eyes; taking a step close to the human, anger creeping into its tone as it continued to talk. "Our numbers are not unlimited. Six of my brothers died in the field this week. You think the armies of Haven should just follow you around? There's a bigger picture here. You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in."
Dean swallowed, watching as the angel took a step back from him, receding out of his bubble and flicked its eyes heavenwards; a thoughtful look coming upon its face.
"I see you've met the Syphon. I've never had the honour of meeting one before." Castiel's mood did a complete one eighty, making Dean eye it warily.
"What?"
"The Vadalis."
"You mean Blondie?"
"Correct. Gifted by God himself, the fact that she is also a Valkaras is a strange coincidence." Dean opened his mouth to further inquire about the blonde, but the angel had vanished; leaving him alone in the quiet, dark kitchen with nothing else but the chaotic thoughts that swirled around in his head.
Wendy opted to stay with Bobby and let the boys go out on their own, leaving them to sort out their issues with each other and also any problems they had about her. Samuel was a little more open to having Wendy tag along with the two, whereas Dean wouldn't have any of it. After the fiasco with the witnesses he became adamant that she stay with Bobby, which she supposed that placing her in the care of Bobby was still looking after her in a roundabout way. Wendy hadn't received any calls from Grams during her stay as of yet and whenever she called home, there was no answer. That didn't mean that her disappearance from home went unnoticed; she received a dreadfully frantic phone call from both Danny and Marco two days into her stay with Bobby—her grandmother had informed her friends that Wendy was visiting her father due to his decreasing health, which Danny didn't believe for a second—hence the phone call and reassuring the both of them that she'd be home soon.
Wendy was terribly annoyed with the people around her thinking she needed looking after; the witch was more than capable looking after herself. Sure sometimes she had forgotten to take her draught in the two weeks of her stay with the older hunter, which led to her not sleeping. Or that living pretty much out in the middle of nowhere had slackened her control on her shields to virtually non-existent because Bobby alone wasn't as challenging to block. Other than that Wendy was perfectly capable person.
For example she had provided Bobby with real food to live off instead of whiskey and tinned soup. Every day she made him something new, trying out different recipes and having the older man be her taste tester; he didn't mind nor did he complain. In the last two weeks Bobby showed her how to fix up one of the cars that sat in the dirty yard out the front, the two of them worked on it together, keeping busy while taking a break from angel research. She missed Nancy, missed hearing his annoyed thoughts and just his general grumpiness at the world. Wendy found that taking apart a car engine was somewhat relaxing; to be able to concentrate on the little bits and pieces helped to focus her mind on one thing at a time.
Wendy was sat at a tall bench top under a covered area beside the house, fiddling with a car battery that she was almost positive she could get working again when the familiar voice sounded in her ear.
"The Winchesters? Really?" Gigi sneered. "It just had to be them."
Wendy swivelled lightning fast and latched her arms around his middle. "I missed ya'."
"Oh uh-huh, I'm sure." Gabriel muttered, leaving his arms at his sides as she got her fill of physical contact for the day. "Only gone for a few weeks, and you shack up with dumb and dumber."
"Don't be mean." Wendy pulled away from him, taking a step away with lowered brows. "Dean an' Samuel ah nice."
"Samuel." Gabriel mocked lightly, lips pulled downwards with the name being surrounded in a tangy green. Wendy shot a concerned look towards Mr. Glowy, thick eyebrows furrowing as she watched him muttered under his breath in a language she didn't recognise.
Wendy shrugged the reaction off. "An' how do'ya know 'em anyway?" She raised a brow, wiping her grease stained hands with the yellow rag that sat beside the battery; silver eyes darting back to Gigi as she watched the golden white light shine from him.
"We've met." The words rang yellow.
"An' y' here 'cause?" Wendy inquired kindly, head cocked to the side and observing him with wide silver eyes.
"Come for the accent, stay for the view."
Wendy hummed a little; pink words swirling around and making her stomach flip strangely before she pushed the feeling down, turning her back on him as she packed away the tools she had brought out. "I learnt somethin' new ah couple'ah weeks ago."
"Ooh, something new," Gigi, grinned slyly. "Is it something naughty?" He wiggled his brows before sobering at the neutral look he had gotten. Eyeing her stance carefully (small fists bunched and resting upon her hips as she gave him a blank stare) he knew she wasn't exactly in the joking mood, and so with a snap of his fingers there was a box of glazed donuts in his hands that he held out towards the blonde.
Wendy raked her eyes over his glow-y form, watching it shimmer around his person and absentmindedly reached out to take the box from his hands while tracing the glow with her gaze; slightly mesmerised by the display. "Y' an angel." She murmured.
Gabriel turned his golden orbs away from her, hands stuffed into his pockets as he clicked his tongue. "Just a snack, sunshine. Everyone loves donuts. Didn't know it'd start making you think so highly of me."
"Stop it."
He sighed heavily, throwing his hand up dramatically. "Alright fine. I guess, technically I am."
"An' you're maskin' 'round as ah Trickster." Wendy placed the donuts on top of the work bench.
Gigi rolled his eyes—not even phased by the fact that she knew, seemed quite pleased about it. "Yes, yes. I know."
"I know y'know, but why?" She sassed lightly which Gabriel raised an eyebrow at; lips pursed and resisting the urge to tell her to roll back the attitude.
"Because." He shrugged.
"That's not'ah answer."
Gabriel scoffed, "Uh, yeah it is." Looking on as Wendy bent over to tuck the car battery away on a low dusty shelf; unashamedly checking out her ass as she did so.
"Y' ah' pain." Wendy bit her lip to hide the grin that pulled at her mouth as she straightened, but Gabriel caught it and sent a flirty wink her way.
"Only the best kind."
Twenty two years ago bells sounded off in Gabriel's head and he froze.
Which wasn't the best time for such a thing as his head was situated between Kali's thighs, and particularly busy at the time, so when he jumped away from her like she had burnt him, she was fuming. Demanded to know where the fuck he was going—not that Gabriel would have told her; he was too busy freaking out over the fact that he had a fucking Masovas. He high tailed it out of the hotel room, out of Paris, curses and insults following after him from Kali (he was fairly certain she had pegged a heel at him before he disappeared), but he brushed it aside—completely understandable; he would forgive that.
Gabriel found himself standing out the front of Touro Infirmary in uptown New Orleans at five o'clock in the morning, bells chiming in his head insistently as he walked into the building, following the noise that led him further into the quiet hospital and towards the birthing suite; finally coming to a stop at a wooden door that read Room 5 with the bells becoming silent. He didn't want to go in there, didn't want to acknowledge it. The door to the room was closed and that almost stopped him from going in. Gabriel rolled his eyes at his own hesitation and steeled himself before opening the door to find a woman with short dark golden hair curled up on her side and fast asleep; beside her was a bassinet where the sound of gurgling emitted from. It was almost like a bad horror movie as he made his way over to the bassinet (overly cautious) and peered down into it, preparing himself if he so happened to find some sort of slimy baby creature or those face sucker things from that weird ass Alien movie.
Nope.
Just a regular baby, he supposed. Gabriel resisted the temptation of poking at it with a stick, just to make sure. He scowled down at the infant girl, observing as she wiggled around with her silver eyes open wide. The moment she locked on to him she stopped moving.
"You little shit," Gabriel muttered down at the tiny baby while holding eye contact with her, a sneer upon his face as the child stared back at him blankly before finally giving him an exaggerated slow blink. He couldn't hold the expression for long as he watched the baby's lip begin to tremble. Gabriel rolled his eyes and picked the thing up, absentmindedly swaying her before she could scream down the hospital and looking down at the child to find that she was already staring at him in displeasure; making a little huffing sound like she was the one that had a reason to be annoyed.
He hated the kid.
Gabriel immediately scoffed at the thought, not even being able to hold onto the idea for the time it took to go through his mind. He was already a-fucking-ttached; letting out a heavy sigh, he ran his tongue over his teeth before frowning down at the baby and felt something tap against his being. Gabriel guardedly opened himself with the tiniest crack to the sensation, and almost dropped the kid when she projected her sleepiness on to him.
"Oh, fuck me." Gabriel growled angrily, rolling his eyes skywards and glared at the ceiling, wishing it were his father. "Is this your idea of a joke? Are you trying to be funny? Because this ain't funny."
Gabriel looked over to the name card that was stuck to the head of the bassinet, finding it bare. The woman in the hospital bed shifted and Gabriel hastily placed the child back into her borrowed bed, but the mother didn't wake.
"You look like a Wendolyn." He muttered as he leaned on the bassinet, gazing down at the baby and trying to stuff down the feeling of warmth that tugged at him.
Gabriel groaned and rubbed at his face.
I'm so excited! There's so many hints in here to Wendy's plot, I'm wondering if anyone will pick up on it. Let me know your theories!
Another thing, it's my birthday! I'm glad I got this posted today; it feels like an achievement. I most likely won't post another chapter until after Christmas, so I'm wishing you all a Merry Christmas and I hope you all have a wonderful day.
Fun Facts:
- Wendy's favourite colour is yellow.
- Masovas, Valkaras, Valtushard, and Vadalis are all words I've made up (don't pinch 'em).
- Touro Infirmary is a very real hospital in New Orleans.
- Hag Stones (Holey Stones or Witch Stones): are stones that have naturally occurring holes. They're believed to be powerful protection talismans, and when worn or carried they protect the bearer from curses, hexes, negative spirits, and harm. Also believed that if you peer through the hole of the stone that you can see the Fae Folk. If one broke, it is thought to have used its power to try and protect a life.
- The sigil upon the Hag Stone can be used to protect the wearier from those who would harm them.
- Old metal keys are said to attract positive energy while simultaneously deflecting evil.
Pronunciation:
Masovas: Mar-so-vas.
Valkaras: Vall-cah-rass.
Valtushard: Val-too-chard.
Vardalis: Vah-dar-liss.