Chapter 19
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"You expect me to believe you're CDC?" The medical examiner asked after they showed their badges.
Emma glanced up at Sam. "Excuse me?"
"Just that you're a day early." She explained. "First time I haven't sat on my ass waiting for you people."
"New administration." Dean said. "A change you can believe in."
"Right."
"Could we see our victim?" Emma asked.
She took them to the victim. "Meet Xavier. Date of birth: April 3rd, 1984." All three hunters frowned in confusion. "I know. I ran the DNA twice. That's definitely him."
"Well, he wasn't big on the sunscreen, huh?" Dean commented.
"So, what's your theory?" Sam asked her.
"All I know is, decedent's male, 25 years old, and he died of old age."
"It's not something you see every day." Emma sighed.
"You were right about this one, it's definitely a job." Dean said to Bobby on the phone. They had been on the road when Bobby had called them to check out the death of Xavier. "No, just the one body." Dean continued talking with Bobby. "Couple missing persons. Usual for a town this size—You think they're connected? —You got it. And by the way, how are you doing?" They stopped walking. "Yeah, you know, just in general?" Emma glanced up at Sam. Bobby ended the call and Dean turned to them.
"So, how is he doing?" Emma asked him. Dean just glared and walked away.
"That's the most recent." Mrs. Whitlow handed them a picture of her missing husband. Cliff Whitlow had been one of the most recent missing people in town.
"How long has he been missing?" Sam asked her.
"Well, I knew right away when he didn't come home Tuesday night." She answered.
Emma looked at the photo while Dean asked, "Is there someplace he likes to go? After work, maybe? A favorite bar?"
"No." Mrs. Whitlow shook her head. "Tuesdays, he always works a bit late but he always comes straight home."
"May I use your facilities, ma'am?" Dean asked her.
Cliff Whitlow was proudly holding a cup in the picture that was handed around. He had just won a golf tournament. On his right arm, there was a tattoo of the US Marines. He seemed like the perfect husband to his wife. They had a routine. But Mr. Whitlow had his secrets. He wasn't working late on Tuesdays as Dean would find out. Mr. Whitlow booked a room every Tuesday at the Golden Palace. Emma was sure it wasn't work related.
"At least, he's consistent. Same room every Tuesday." Sam commented as they walked up to the room. "Hourly rate."
"Hope I get that kind of kink when I'm his age." Dean said.
"Yeah. Like either of us will live that long."
"True."
"You sure know how to cheer people up about the future, uh?" Emma stopped in front of room 44.
"So, what do you think's in there?" Sam asked.
"Wrinkly, gooey corpse." Dean replied.
Sam was getting his tool to pick the lock when they heard screaming. "Oh, my God. Oh, God."
Sam broke down the door. Emma was expecting to see someone in danger. She clearly didn't expect to see a young man having a good time with two beautiful women.
"It's gooey." Sam said.
"Sorry," Dean apologized smirking. "Got the wrong room."
"Close the door." The man snapped at them.
Emma raised her hands in a surrendering manner and was about to follow the brothers, when she caught a glimpse of his right arm.
"Nice tattoo, bro." She spoke. "Do you happen to know anyone by the name of Cliff Whitlow?" Sam walked past her and went to the wallet that was resting on the chest drawer.
"Never heard of him." The man answered quickly.
"That's weird—" Sam turned to him. "—because you're carrying his wallet."
Dean walked up to the bed and pulled the covers up. "Huh." He dropped them. "Your wife told us about your birthmark here. That's nice. Well, you look great, Cliff. Did you get some work done?"
Cliff exhaled and turned to his lady friends. "Could you give us some privacy?"
"Please don't tell my wife." He begged them shortly after the girls had left.
"Slow down."
"I'm begging you. As far as she knows, I'm dead. For the love of God, let's keep it that way."
"I don't get it. How can a guy your age looks so young?" Emma asked him confused.
"I can't tell you."
"Either you tell us or we tell the missus." Dean threatened him.
"Okay!" Cliff snapped. "It was a game."
"Like Xbox?" Sam said.
"What's Xbox?" Cliff retorted. "No. Poker. High stakes. Instead of cash, you play for years."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean questioned him.
"I know it sounds crazy. Guy comes up to me at a bar, invites me to play." Cliff explained. "Gives me 25 of these weirdo poker chips, right? Chants some mumbo humbo over them, says now they're 25 years." Emma frowned. "I'm laughing, but then I come out up and look at me."
"What was he chanting?" Sam asked him.
"How should I know? All I know is, my hip's good, I threw away my glasses. One of those ladies was here for free. Man's some kind of miracle worker."
"What does this miracle worker look like?" Dean asked.
"Just a guy." Cliff answered. "Maybe 35, brown hair. Irish accent. His name was Patrick."
"Where's this game at?"
"He says he likes to keep moving." Cliff said. "Never stays in one bar long, and he finds you."
Dean glanced at Sam and Emma. "Thank you, Cliff." And they left.
This case was getting stranger by the minute. A man of twenty-five years died of old age. A man of over fifty years, de-aged and gain twenty-five years of his life back. What kind of poker game was that?
The three hunters had split up to search for their mark. Emma was making her ways around the bars looking for their he-witch and his poker game. When she entered the third bar, she had to cut her search short. There were two angels sitting in a corner, they stood up as soon as they saw her. Emma turned around and exited the bar. Outside, there were two more walking up to her.
The angels were chasing her down. Emma did not understand, she thought they had orders not to attack her. She was, as far as she knew, untouchable for now. Why were those angels after her? Who had sent them? Emma took a sharp turn to the left and entered a café. She rushed to the bathrooms in the back. She pulled out her knife as she pushed the bathroom's door open. She sliced her hand and used her own blood to draw the banishing sigils.
"Your brother is summoning you, First One." One of them said as they walked in.
"I am sort of busy at the moment. Could you come at a later time?" Emma said stepping away from them. Panic was now coursing through her.
"Raphael only wants to talk." He smirked.
"I doubt that." Emma stayed in front of the sigils hiding it from her angelic brothers. "How did you know where to find me?"
"You are like a beacon, First One. You shine brighter than any of us." He shrugged. "You've been getting stronger."
"Raphaël fears you may interfere." Another said. "So, he sent us to collect you."
"I won't go with you."
"You might be stronger but not strong enough to fight all of us."
She stepped on the side, revealing the sigil. "Who said anything about fighting?" As they lunged to get her, she slapped her hand on the wall. A blinding light swallowed all four of them and they disappeared.
Emmanuelle bandaged her hand quickly and rushed back to the motel. She kept looking over her shoulder, making sure no more angels were there to get her. How did she not think of it sooner? Of course, she would be visible again. Her powers were growing stronger, her memories were coming back, her grace was healing. Of course, she would shine like a lighthouse in the middle of the night. She had to switch it off. But how? The last time she did, she damaged her grace greatly. She couldn't do that again. It would mean death this time.
"Bobby?" Emma recognized the hunter as she approached their motel. "Didn't know you'd join us." She hugged him quickly.
"I thought I came in on the case." Bobby replied. Emma opened the door for him. In the motel room, stood Sam facing an old man eating a burger. "I see you met John McCain there." Bobby said to Sam.
Emma stared at the eighty-year-old looking man. White hair, wrinkles all over his face and yet, she could only see Dean. "What happened?"
"Yeah. Either of you care to tell us." Sam nodded.
"Bobby's an idiot. That's what happened." Dean answered.
"Hey, nobody asked you to play." Bobby snapped.
"Right, I should have just let you die."
"And for damn sure, nobody asked you to lose."
"It's like Grumpy Old Men." Sam laughed.
"Shut up, Sam." Both old men snapped.
Emma pulled out a chair and sat down. She was starting to have a headache. "What the hell were you thinking?" Dean turned to Bobby. "He's a witch. He's been playing poker since guys wore tights."
"You just don't get it." Bobby shook his head.
"Yeah, I get it, Bobby." Dean continued. "You saw a chance to turn the hands of the clock back, get out of that damn chair. Pretty tempting. I can imagine."
"No, you can't." Bobby argued.
"You got me." Dean nodded. "I never been paralyzed. But I'll tell you something. I've been to hell. And there's an archangel there wanting me to drop the soap. Look at me." Dean looked down at himself. "My junk's rustier than yours. You hear me bellyaching, huh?"
"Actually, yeah." Sam said.
Dean groaned and just sat down. "I'm having a heart attack."
"Don't be so dramatic." Emma stood up.
"No, you're not." Bobby shood his head.
"What is it?"
"Acid reflux." Bobby replied. "Guys your age can't digest certain foods. You're gonna need to put down that cheeseburger." Dean put down his burger. "So, you wanna keep emoting or you wanna talk about solving this little issue of yours?" Bobby turned to Sam. "It's gotta be about the chips."
"I slid them across." Dean started to explain. "Patrick did his little witchy number, and you prettied up in a hurry."
"What are you all thinking?" Sam sat down at the table. "Some magic chips or something?"
"Definitely."
"Remember what he chanted?" Dean asked Bobby.
"Every word."
"All right, then let's find out where he stashes his chips." Sam suggested.
"And steal me 50, Benjamin Buttons me back into burger shape." Dean leaned back into his chair. "What do you think?"
"I think you ought to put some clothes on." Bobby just said.
While Dean went to put some clothes on, Sam was helping Emma with her wounded hand. She could have told them the truth. She should have told them about the angels coming after on Raphaël's orders. But for better or worse, she decided against it. She kept it to herself. Instead, she simply lied to the hunters. They had seemed to believe her lies for now.
Later, in Bobby's truck, the group were watching their mark. The plan was to follow him to his place and wait until they could get to the magical chips. They watched as Patrick crossed the streets; he was hit by a car. It was pretty brutal, no one would have gotten up after this. Patrick was different though. He was a witch. While the driver panicked and went looking for help. The he-witch got back on his feet and got into the car. He drove away without a scratch.
Dean chuckled. "I gotta say. I kind of like the guy." Emma just glared at the back of his head.
Sam and Dean went into Patrick's apartment together, leaving Bobby and Emma in the truck. Emma's thought wandered back to the angels her brother had sent after her. She needed to figure out a way to turn it off. The last time she had went into "hiding," she had damaged her grace greatly. And almost died while doing so. Risking death once more, while the apocalypse was upon them, was out of the question. She needed to find another way. She knew that using her power while her grace wasn't fully restored, greatly slowed the healing process. It could outright stop healing. But could she really risk it?
Sam and Dean had come back. Their plan had failed. Patrick had stopped them before they could do anything. He had challenged Sam to a new game but Dean had refused. And Emma could understand why but still they needed to find a way to give Dean back his youth.
"You know, I still think I should play." Sam as he pushed Bobby's chair up into the parking lot.
"No." Dean turned to his brother. "You're not good enough. I'm better. Bobby's way better. We both lost."
"Exactly." Bobby agreed.
"What about me?" Emma crossed her arms over her chest. "I could play."
"No way." Dean shook his head.
"Why not?" Emma looked up at him. "I'm an angel, I can take it."
"You can't." Dean argued back. "Your grace isn't fully healed and we don't know what it would do to you. I'm not taking that risk."
"So what? So, we don't get a say in this anymore?" Sam questioned before Emma could retort anything to Dean.
"Sammy, when you get to be our age—" Dean started.
"You're 30, Dean." Sam cut him off. "Look, I've watched you hustle plenty of poker."
"Knowing the game is not enough." Bobby stopped him. "It's not about playing the cards."
"It's about playing the other guy, I know."
"Hooray for you. All I'm saying is I played this guy. I know his style. I can take him."
"No, Bobby." Dean said. "You don't have enough years in the bank."
"I got enough."
"You'll die if you lose, Bobby." Sam reminded him.
"So, what if I do, huh?" Bobby snapped back. "What exactly am I living for, huh? The damn apocalypse? Watching men die bloody while I sit in this chair, can't take a step to help them?"
"Bobby…" Dean started.
"No, no. It's the facts." Bobby was breathing harder. "I'm old and broke down, and I can't—" Bobby paused. "I ain't a hunter no more. I'm useless. And if I wasn't such a coward—I'd have stuck a gun in my mouth day I got home from the hospital."
After hearing how Bobby really felt, the pain and frustration he was in. Emma knew what to do. It was the only way. She had never done it before or rather she did not remember how to do it. Unlike Castiel, she wasn't cut off from heaven. Her powers were growing back, her grace healing. She would help Bobby and disappear from Raphaël's sight. Two birds one stone. Right?
"Bobby, you are not playing again." Sam told him. "I'm not letting you do that. There's another way out of this. There's gotta be—and I'm gonna find it." And Sam left.
"Take it." Patrick's girlfriend, Lia, was waiting for them in their motel room. "It'll help you."
Bobby moved his wheelchair towards her. And took the piece of paper she was handing them. "What is this?"
"Most powerful reversal spell you've ever laid your eyes on." Lia answered.
"And it reverses what?" Dean asked her.
"Patrick's work. All of it."
"You saying I could be normal again?"
"You and everyone else he's ever played—who's still alive."
"And why should we trust you?" Emma asked her crossing her arms over her chest.
"Trust me, don't trust me, I don't care." Lia stood up. "The spell is real."
"If it zaps everyone, don't that include your man?" Bobby questioned her.
"And me too." Lia said. "I look good for my age."
"Lady, this don't add up for squat." Bobby told her. "Why would you want that?"
"I have my reasons." Lia replied. She lightly touched the pendant on her necklace. "Do it quick. We leave town tomorrow."
"Well, we better get to work." Emma said.
Was it possible Lia had felt she had lived too long? Was that why she was helping them? Because she wanted out. Emma could understand. She had lived a long life and lost many people. Husbands, lovers, and children. She had buried many in the past. Sometimes she thought too many. She could begin to understand why she would want out. Plus she was offering her help. Help that they couldn't afford to refuse.
And they did. At nightfall, the three of them went into a graveyard to look for their first ingredient.
"Jawbone of a murderer. Great." Dean groaned as he and Emma were digging. "You—you know, this really sucks. How do we even know her spell's gonna work?"
"We don't. We ain't got a plan B." Bobby reminded him. "Now, less flapping and more digging."
"Oh, God." Dean moaned.
"What?" Emma turned to him.
"My elbows. I'm all creaky."
"Hurry up, you crybaby." Bobby rolled his eyes at Dean.
"Pound it up your ass, Ironsides."
"One little grave." Bobby countered as Emma went back to digging.
"Then you do it." Emma took a deep breath as the two hunters started to argue.
"Fine, I'll hop right in." Emma let them go at it and kept on digging.
"Well, at least your legs are numb."
"Shut up and dig, Grandma."
"Ow!" Dean moaned again. "Now it's my back."
"Can you straighten up?" Bobby asked him.
"Yeah, but a little sympathy wouldn't hurt."
"Butt cheek tingling?"
"Well, that's kind of personal."
"So yeah?" Bobby nodded. "It's sciatica. You'll live. Keep digging."
"You know, Bobby, killing you is officially on my bucket list."
"How about you dig first." Emma said.
"How's it going in there?" Dean asked as Sam joined them outside.
"How do you think it's going?" Sam asked back. "What about you? You have everything you need?"
"We still need a little he-witch DNA."
"He was chewing it." Sam handed Dean a toothpick. "Just hurry up, Dean. Please."
"All right. Just keep him busy and, Sammy—don't lose." Sam walked back inside.
Emma looked to Dean. "He's going to be okay. Come on." The two of them walked back to the truck. Dean stopped and grabbed his left arm. "What? You're not—?"
"Let's get this over with." He cut her off.
Bobby read the incantation. The jawbone they had collected was burning in a bowl. Dean threw the other ingredients one by one. The flames turned blue. He threw in Patrick's toothpick. But nothing happened. Dean remained unchanged.
"Everything we put in that spell was kosher." Bobby said.
"Yeah, except maybe the damn toothpick." Emma grumbled.
"You gotta go get a speck of DNA. Strap on your track shoes."
"Oh, goody." Dean groaned. "More stairs."
Emma and Dean searched Patrick's appartement for any trace of his DNA. Emma had wanted Dean to stay in the truck but he refused to stay with Bobby. The man was on the verge of a heart failure. They had to act quickly otherwise they would lose Dean to old age.
"It's too damn clean in here." Dean was on the phone with Bobby. "First witch I ever heard of didn't spew bodily fluids all over the place."
"There must be something somewhere." Emma groaned looking around through Patrick's belongings.
"Red!" Dean called her.
"Yeah?" She arrived just in time to see Dean grabbed his chest before falling to the floor. "Dean! No, no, no." Emma got on her knees and started CPR. "Come on, Dean! Stay with me." She put his lips to his for mouth-to-mouth. She breathed twice. She was about to start the chest compression again but stopped.
"I knew I was irresistible." Dean was smirking at her. He was back at his young self. No longer an eighty-year-old man.
Emma sat back relieved. She lightly kicked his ribs. "I thought you were dead."
It turned out the reversal spell was not necessary. Sam had won the game against Patrick. Fair and square. He was better than Dean and Bobby had given him credit for. They had not stopped Patrick. He was still out there, heading to a new place. They wouldn't know. All that mattered was Dean was thirty again.
"Where did Sam go?" Emma asked Dean as the latter was getting out of the room.
"Booster shot." Dean smirked walking to the Impala.
Emma chuckled. "I see." She stepped into the room. "Need any help with anything, Bobby?"
"Nah, I'm good." Bobby replied.
"Actually, Bobby—" Emma closed the door to the room. "I've been thinking about what you said before."
"Look, I'm done feeling my feelings for one day." Bobby started to move towards the door.
"What? Wait!" Emma stopped him. "I've been thinking that I could try and heal you." She said quickly.
"What?" Bobby turned to face her.
"I'm not promising anything, alright?" Emma continued. "But I figured since my grace has been healing, I could give it a try."
"You could heal me?"
"Like I said not promising anything."
"I thought your grace wasn't completely healed?"
"It's not." Emma answered. "Bobby, don't worry about it. I won't use it for that long, it'll be a matter of seconds."
"You're sure it's safe?" Emma nodded. "Let's give it a try."
Emma stood up straighter, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She reached within herself for a power she had long forgotten. Within a grace that had seemed to be damaged beyond repair. She opened her eyes. They were glowing bright blue, her wings spread in her back. She touched Bobby's forehead. She searched for the injuries that had paralyzed him from the waist down. She healed all the damaged parts. All brand new. It lasted seconds.
She opened her eyes as her wings disappeared. Her eyes turned back to their usual brown. "Want to give it a try?"
Bobby looked down at his legs. Not wanting to believe it, not daring to hope. He put his right foot on the floor, soon followed by his left. He slowly pushed himself out of the chair. His legs worked again. He was whole again. Standing on his own two feet. He closed the gap between him and Emma in two steps. And hugged her tightly.
Emma couldn't believe it. It had worked. Bobby was walking again. It had worked. She had healed him. But it wasn't without consequences. Bobby's voice was drowned out in the fog that was taking over her brain. Everything around her disappeared into darkness as she went limp in Bobby's arms.
