Chapter 18 Checkmate
I-80 E, Nebraska
"Dean, wake up."
A hand pushed his shoulder and he opened his eyes, knuckling them and straightening against the back of the seat. Eight lanes of concrete, a few dozen vehicles and shadowy, cold brown countryside flashed past him. Not long til dawn.
"My turn?" he asked. In the driver's seat, Soleil nodded, changing lanes to pull off the interstate. She followed the off-ramp down to a gas station whose bright lights were washed out by the imminent sunrise lightening the sky to the east.
"And breakfast. This thing drinks gas, we need to fill up," she said, keeping her voice low for the woman still sleeping in the seat behind them.
Breakfast would be welcome. He rubbed both hands over his face and through his hair.. He recognised the turn-off. Kearney. Another two hours and they'd be there.
Glancing through the rear window, he saw Trent's pale blue pickup behind them, orange indicator light flicking in time with theirs, following them down the off-ramp. They'd made okay time. Ellie had called a few hours ago to give them an update on the location of the firstborn. An industrial building to the north of the city. None of them had speculated on what they would find, or what they would do when they got there. The situation would become obvious once they got there.
He slid a discreet sideways glance at Soleil. Her concentration was on the road, her hands were light on the wheel. He wasn't convinced it was a good call to let her come along. She was a skilled hunter, a clever and pragmatic leader, but she and Eddie had been together for a long time, and her emotional involvement made her a risk.
"She will go, whether it's with you or on her own," Ellie had said, when he'd argued with her before he'd left. "And she'll be much easier to contain if she's working with you, under your orders, than if she's freelancing."
She was right; he'd known it at the time. He hoped Soleil'd follow orders. Ellie hadn't seemed all that concerned.
"Use her anger, Dean, use her pain. She'll be faster, stronger, more determined with it," she'd told him, her expression prosaic. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of using Soleil's feelings to get the best from her, knowing how she felt. But he was prepared to admit she'd been cold, competent and completely professional so far.
The big black pickup stopped beside the pumps and he got out, stretching stiff limbs and walking around to the gas cap. Soleil got out as well, rotating her shoulders and looking over at him.
"Coffee? What else?"
"Bacon and egg roll." He unscrewed the gas tank cap and set the nozzle of the pump in. "Pie, if they have any."
He caught a glimpse of a smile as she turned away, running a hand through her short, dark hair. A tousled blonde head appeared in the rear window next to him.
Laney wound down the window and yawned as she leaned out. "Where are we?"
"Kearney," he said, watching the readout on the pump. "Another couple of hours."
She nodded, looking over at the store. "I need coffee. Gallons of it."
She got out and staggered across the concrete paving, stretching haphazardly as she went. The driver at the next pump raised an eyebrow as he watched her, turning back to Dean.
"Bet you're having a good trip," he said with a wink.
Dean smiled automatically, unhooking the nozzle as the pump stopped and replacing it. He screwed up the cap and walked to the driver's door, getting in.
Oh yeah, he thought sourly, great trip. Heading toward a fight with the most powerful angel/human hybrids on the planet, for a showdown that would likely result in more deaths, his family left behind without his protection…man, he couldn't get enough of these good times.
He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. It wasn't that bad. There would be ten of them, against three. The Watchers had stayed in Oregon, to check the movement of the firstborn, to help the hunters who'd remained to protect Sam and Trish and Ellie and the kids. It was as good as they'd been able to manage. Sam and Ellie had a bolt-hole. The panic room was proof against the nephilim. In the very worst case, it would keep them safe, until he could get back.
The passenger door opened and he took the cardboard cup of coffee, grease-smeared paper bag and cellophane-wrapped pie from Laney as she got in, Soleil getting in the back.
"Thanks," he said, starting the truck and pulling out. Laney glanced sideways at him.
"You been sitting here worrying again, Dean?"
"Me? Nah, just wondering why we took this piece of junk instead of a real car," he said, shifting his shoulder aside as she reached out to thump him.
They were just passing the signs for the Pawnee Lake State park when his phone rang. He pulled it out and passed it to Laney, half-listening as he took the bypass around Lincoln.
"What? No, just stay there," Laney said, frustration in her voice. Dean glanced at her as she twisted in her seat.
"Jeremy just did a look around the address Frank gave us," she said. "It's empty. They were there, now they're gone."
He heard the hiss of Soleil's indrawn breath behind him.
"What do you want to do?" Laney asked.
"Tell them to stay put," he said, lifting his watch. "We'll be there soon. We need to see it."
"You hear that, Jer?" Laney said. "No, just get Charlie and Twist to watch the other side. Yeah, we want to have a good, close look over the place. Okay."
She closed the phone and handed it back to him. "Did they see us coming, or was the plan to run all along?"
"Does it matter?" Soleil asked from behind her, leaning forward between them, her forearms resting along the back of the seat. "They've gone."
"Soleil, call Ellie. Tell her to get Baraquiel and Sariel to check on their location. If they're out of their hideout, they should be able to see them," Dean said. "Laney, let Trent know what's going on."
The women nodded and for the next few minutes, the murmur of their voices filled the truck, a soft background to his thoughts. Maluch had been badly injured and the Watchers had confirmed he wouldn't heal quickly from the burns of the holy oil. They probably were watching for them, he thought. They might not have been able to see the others, but they would've seen him. He should've driven the Impala.
Soleil closed the phone and leaned forward. "Carl called Ellie when they found the place empty. She's had the Watchers looking but she says they can't see them."
Crap. He nodded. "The Watchers warded your car, Soleil. The nephilim are probably using it."
Laney closed her phone and rubbed her forehead. "No one disappears without a trace, we'll find something."
Omaha, Nebraska
The building was close by the river, north of the airport and Dean saw Carl's red pickup parked next to the big loading dock doors as he drove into the gravelled parking lot, a nondescript beige sedan parked next to it.
As they pulled up, Carl and Charlie walked out of the dim interior to meet them.
"We've looked around, but there's nothing obvious," Charlie said, her short blonde hair covered in dust. Carl nodded.
Dean turned, scanning the lot. "Where're Twist and Jeremy?"
"On the other side," Carl said, pointing to the building. "They had a four-wheel drive but they burned it when they left."
"Definitely in your wagon then, Soleil," Laney said, her gaze going to the tall woman.
"How're we going to find them if the car's invisible to the Watchers and the angels?" Charlie asked Dean. He shrugged.
"Let's see if we can find anything here, first. Then we'll worry about tracking them." He wasn't sure they would find anything, but as Laney had said, no one disappeared without leaving any trace, and the firstborn had been living here for a while.
They walked into the building through the loading dock, and split into pairs. Dean and Soleil headed for the metal stairs that led up to the second level. He pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial number for home.
Ellie answered on the first ring. The sound of her voice was a welcome respite from the tension that had filled him since Jeremy's call this morning.
"Hey."
"Hey, everything all right there?" he asked, stopping at the top of the stairs.
"Yeah, all quiet here," she answered, her voice perfectly clear. "You got anything?"
"No, just got here. Can you get Frank to run the usual checks on the satellite and cell signals from this address?"
"Sure." He heard the hesitation in her voice and knew what she was going to say. "They're together now, there probably won't be any."
"I know, just…trying to cover all the bases," he said.
"Sariel said they can pick up traces from where the firstborn have been," Ellie said. "If they haven't cleaned the place thoroughly."
"That'll help if we can figure out where they've gone."
"I know."
"I gotta go, but…Ellie…"
"I'll be careful. We'll stay safe. We're better protected here than Fort Knox, Dean. Don't worry about us," she said.
He closed his eyes, hoping she was right, that they were, that they would remain safe and out of it.
"I'll call, if I find anything."
"Yeah, me too."
The line cut out, and he closed the phone, dragging in a deep breath and gesturing to the other end of the building as he looked at Soleil. "You want to start down that end? I'll meet you in the middle."
Soleil nodded and turned away, walking fast to the other end of the long hall. Dean turned in the opposite direction.
The end he'd chosen seemed to have been used for living areas, big open rooms held sofas and armchairs, tables and chairs, rugs had been laid over the bare timber boards. He found the kitchen, and glanced in the fridge, noting the milk was still fresh, still within its use-by date. They hadn't left much earlier. He walked down a short hall and came to a bedroom, almost empty but for a double bed. He looked at the bedhead, seeing the scratches in the paint that coated the metal. 'Cuffs, he thought, straightening up and looking around. Probably the room they'd held Callie. Beside the bed, the room held a chest of drawers, empty and dusty, and another door led into a small bathroom with a toilet, sink and shower recess.
He walked to the bathroom and looked around, chewing on the corner of his lip. The sun lifted a little higher, and came through the small window, lighting up the wall behind the cistern. A tiny shadow against the smooth, white tile caught his eye, and he leaned close to it.
For most of the day, and under the overhead light, the tiles on the wall beside the cistern tank would be in shadow and the faint scratching wouldn't have shown, he thought, not without noticing it somehow first.
Akron.
There was only one Akron he knew of. He didn't know how Callie had known that was where they were heading and he didn't care particularly. It was a direction. He straightened up and walked out of the bathroom, moving fast to meet Soleil.
Forest Edge, Oregon
Ellie strode into the long, elegant dining room without knocking, Talya trailing behind her.
"Anything?"
Baraquiel looked up from the silver bowl, his eyes widening in surprise. "No, I would've called you if we'd found anything, Ellie."
"There has to be a way we can see them," she said, sitting down at the table and staring at him. "A spell—or—or something."
"This is pretty much it," Sariel said from the other side of the table. "I'm sorry. I know you're worried, but there's nothing else we can do but watch for them in this."
"Where's Chaz?"
"He's sleeping," Baraquiel replied, looking back into the smooth surface of the liquid that filled the bowl. "He watched this morning."
There was a cool edge along the Watcher's voice and Ellie studied him for a long moment. "You think I'm taking this too personally, Baraquiel?"
Sariel's gaze shifted from her to Baraquiel and back. "Ellie, we know what it at stake here. We are all doing our best to find a solution."
Baraquiel remained silent, staring into the bowl, and her anger rose. "They are your children, Baraquiel, and they are after my family, so you'll have to forgive me for not cutting you much slack on finding them."
The red-haired Watcher raised his head slowly, turning to look at her. "Eleanor, we have been here, fighting to protect humanity for more than three thousand years. We took vows to God to teach and serve and help your species learn to evolve into what He wanted them to become. Do you think, for even a moment, I would put anything above those vows? That I would not do my utmost to find the children and to contain them? I agreed to sacrifice two of the Nine so that Heaven could not be breached. I will do no less now!"
The flat crack of his voice echoed off the walls of the room. Ellie stared at him, hoping he was telling her the whole truth. Some part of her, the unemotional, calculating hunter part of her, wondered.
"They travel in a vehicle we have warded. They are hidden from our sight unless they leave it," the Watcher continued in a more moderate tone. "They will not harm your family, not now. They certainly will not harm Dean, who will be essential to forming the Circle if they cannot rejoin the rest."
He drew in a deep breath and turned back to the bowl.
"It was not us who brought the firstborn together," Chazaquiel leaned against the doorway and looked at Ellie, his expression drawn. "The possibility was awakened in them when your children began to manifest the powers that grow in them daily."
"Chazaquiel," Baraquiel's voice held a warning.
Ellie looked at the Watcher standing by the door. "What do you mean?"
Chazaquiel looked past her to Sariel and Baraquiel and turned away, shrugging. "Nothing."
Ellie's gaze snapped around to Baraquiel. "What does he mean?"
Baraquiel exhaled, his breath rippling the liquid in the bowl in front of him.
"There is no way to prophesise the actions of a person who lies outside of the lines of the destiny," he said after a moment, turning to her. "Your children weren't foreseen when the Council came to their decision and decreed the safeguard to prevent the Nine from ever being able to form it. Our sacrifice was for nothing."
Sariel cleared his throat. "It's the bloodlines, Ellie. We looked ahead and we couldn't see this outcome. No descendant of ours should have had the power to awaken the firstborn's connection. Your survival was unexpected and the union with the Winchesters, it was never seen. All the bloodlines are complete in your children. Azazel, Araquiel and Amaros, the key to—"
"Sariel," Baraquiel snapped, shaking his head as he turned to Ellie.
"Azazel founded the Campbells, Araquiel, the Winchesters," Ellie said, looking from Sariel to Baraquiel. "There must be hundreds of people with their bloodlines, even if Amaros didn't?"
Baraquiel pushed back from the bowl. "Yes. There should have been. There should have been countless cross-overs, as we discussed when we looked for the soul Lucifer could use. Did you ask him about the others, Ellie? The others he might've been able to use?"
Her gaze fell. "He said there were none."
"No. As there were no other keys to the first and last seals that held Lucifer, were there? Out of all the descendants from the lines of Campbell and Winchester, only two men were the keys and only two men were the vessels for Michael and Lucifer."
The Watcher stared at the bowl. "The bloodlines that served Lucifer in too many ways woke the connection between our children. Perhaps it was yet another thing the Morningstar wrought. Some means to tie events to him, to ensure he would always have a way back to Heaven. I don't know."
Ellie stared at him. "Why didn't you tell us this before?"
"What purpose would that have served? To you or to us? We did tell the human scholars all this, centuries ago. The information was lost." He looked at her, mouth twisting disparagingly. "And now it neither furthers our search nor gives any comfort. It is a useless fact, on its own."
"Don't ask us to kill our children, as you killed yours," Ellie said, her voice low and diamond-hard, her gaze fixed on his face.
Baraquiel met her eyes for a moment, then turned his gaze downward, leaning on the table and staring into the bowl.
"No. That was a mistake, on our part, to believe we could circumvent destiny by such simplistic means," he acknowledged, his voice roughened by regret. "Whatever this is, this juxtaposition of events and blood, it will not be stopped by anything that simple."
He lifted his head, turning to her. "Ellie, we have fought with and for you and yours, protected you as much as we could. Please…believe that we are doing our best."
Ellie searched his face, his eyes, for the truth, seeing only sincerity. If he was being manipulated, she thought critically; it was being done without his knowledge. She nodded and got up, leaving the room and heading back to the house.
I-80 E, Iowa
"Akron's not a small town, Dean," Laney said, looking at the concentration in his face.
"Unless they all slept in the car, Sariel said he might be able to pick up traces of where they'd been," he answered her, changing lanes as another car ahead refused to go faster than the posted fifty-five. He glanced in the rear-view mirror, meeting Soleil's eyes. "Callie might be able to leave us something else if we can find where they stayed."
"If, if, if…" The blonde hunter shook her head. "Too many of them."
"Yeah, well, what else is new?" he said, scowling at the road ahead of them. "Any other ideas, don't be shy about bringing 'em up."
The shrill ring of the phone in his coat pocket made him jump, and he dug the phone out, looking at the ID on the screen and connecting.
"Ellie? Tell me you have something," he said, pressing the phone tightly to his ear.
"They went a little past Akron, Dean, stopped at a Super 8 in Brimfield," Ellie's voice broke up a little and he waited, swearing internally when she came back more faintly. "On Beal Drive."
"That a sure thing?"
"Yeah, Baraquiel described the sign to me," she said, a crackle of static cutting her off again. "… like they're … west … know … tonight."
"Ellie?" He looked around in frustration. "Ellie, I can't—"
The phone beeped in his ear and he closed it irritably. Laney raised an eyebrow.
"We got a destination?"
"Yeah, Brimfield," he said in a low voice. "And—maybe—they're heading west."
He put his foot down and glanced in the rear-view mirror, his gaze shifting past Soleil's grey eyes, watching him, to the three vehicles travelling behind them. One by one, they picked up their speed to match his.
Forest Edge, Ohio
Ellie sat in the plantation chair on the porch and stared over the broad valley below, her knees drawn tight up against her chest, arms wrapped around them.
There was a lot more to the story than the Watchers had told them, she realised. Baraquiel had been sincere in his desire to help, to put an end to what was happening, but he had his loyalties still—to the other Watchers, to the nephilim, even to Heaven.
In the years since his death, she'd romanticised her dealings with Penemue, she knew. He too had kept things from her, from humanity. Things he'd deemed too political or too dangerous to know. She should've known the red-haired Watcher would do the same. He was sworn to protect humanity, but he'd Fallen, and his emotions were as human as any of theirs, despite the oft-referred-to greater view of history.
She closed her eyes and considered everything she knew about the Fallen and their children. There'd been twelve, originally, Baraquiel had said. Three had gone to join Lucifer in the First War, dying in that battle between the rebels and the Host of Heaven. Nine had been left, and all had sworn to God to protect and teach humanity. They'd had wives and children. The children of those marriages had been the firstborn, and when one of Lucifer's followers had intimated they could be used to form a doorway back to Heaven, the Council of the Watchers had come up with a plan to stop that possibility. Forever, they'd thought. They'd killed the daughter of Azazel, which had brought its own ruin and devastation, and the son of Araquiel.
Neither Fallen angel had taken vows of celibacy, but when they'd looked down the paths of destiny, searching along them into the future, it was foreseen that no subsequent child of either would hold the power to complete the Nine and build the Circle.
She opened her eyes and sighed softly against her arm. Until the Winchesters had saved her and had cut her loose from the wheels. Or lines. Or whatever you wanted to call the threads of fate. If she'd died with her parents, then Amaros' line would have died with her, apparently. The firstborn would never have found out about their past, or the possibility of the Circle. She'd had a sense, months ago, that something big was turning in the universe, something that had ground slowly for millennia and was only now coming to its purpose. Hell, she thought sourly, she'd had a sense of that years ago, before she'd even admitted to loving Dean.
Shamsiel told her in the Circle a key was still required. A key to Heaven. Chaz had been about to say something about it when Baraquiel had cut him off.
She tried to bring up the memory, his exact words…the bloodlines, the three bloodlines of the Fallen holding the same key as Lucifer had required. Azazel, Araquiel and Amaros. Dean only held two. So did Sam, and Sam's children. Or did they? She'd never looked into Trish's genealogy, although she knew it must hold the bloodlines of some of the Watchers, the same as other long established hunting families. John and Rosie were the only ones she was sure held all three. She needed to know more about the key. A lot more.
She unfolded herself from the chair and got up, stretching to loosen her muscles. Almost every document, manuscript, book and scroll that they'd collected had been fed into Frank's database. She walked back through the house, thinking about the possible searches she could run, to mine that information for what she needed to know.
Brimfield, Ohio
"Is this it?" Soleil looked at the door of the room, half-turning as she lifted a questioning brow at Dean. He nodded, looking down the hallway as she pulled out a pick gun and opened the lock.
From the parking lot outside, the other hunters were scouring the rest of the motel. He didn't think they'd find anything, but it was necessary to look. He turned back to the door as Soleil pushed it open and walked in.
The room held two queen-sized beds and two singles, a long sofa and a small circular table with four chairs. The narrow kitchenette had already been cleaned, fresh sachets of coffee, tea, sugar and creamer filling the saucer next to the tray holding four cups.
"Bathroom," Dean said, jerking his head to the door on the other side of the room. "It's the only place she had enough privacy to do anything."
The three of them crowded into the small room and searched the tiled walls, floor and cabinets for anything Callie could have left them. All three held flashlights, beams pointed obliquely across the smooth surfaces, looking for shadows that wouldn't exist under the ordinary combination of daylight and interior lighting.
Laney found the lightly scratched word next to the taps in the shower recess. "I got it—I think," she said, angling the light and squinting at the white-on-white letters.
"What's it say?" Dean stepped into the recess behind her, bending to look at the word at his waist level. "white con?"
He straightened, turning to Soleil. "Mean anything to you? Looks like she couldn't finish whatever it was."
"Conway," Soleil said, "In New Hampshire, on the edge of the White Mountains."
"You sure?" Laney peered past Dean at her.
"Oui, yes, it was—a joke, sort of," the other woman said, turning away. "We used to spend some time up north, in the winters. We went to the White Mountains a lot, to cross-country ski, teach Callie about winter survival." She gestured at the wall. "She knew I would know what it meant, but no one else would. The firstborn must be watching her more closely now."
Dean pulled his phone out, stepping out of the shower and walking out of the bathroom.
"Sam? Uh—where's Ellie?" He stopped in the middle of the room. "Oh, uh, yeah. Tell them both that Callie managed to leave another message. It looks like they're heading north now. Conway, New Hampshire. Yeah. Can the Watchers look for them there?"
He looked at his watch. This had been left last night, and it was about a fourteen hour drive to New Hampshire, depending on which way they went. The nephilim would be getting close to Conway in a few hours.
"No. Right. No, we're heading out, we'll go straight through." He closed the phone, staring at the floor. Ellie had been with Frank the past three hours, Sam said. Looking for what, he wondered? Sam hadn't known.
"Dean."
He looked around, to see Laney looking into the trash can in the kitchenette. "What?"
"Trash hasn't been emptied," she said, tipping the can over. In amongst the remains of a takeout meal, several empty cans and bottles of soda and water, there was a mass of soft gauze and bandages, all covered in a sticky, red-stained fluid. Laney pulled it out by a corner and Soleil knelt next to her, helping her to draw out the knotted mass. He looked down, nose wrinkling in distaste involuntarily as he took in the thicker, dried yellow matter at the centre of the mass of cloth, deeper stains of blood and, here and there, charred lumps of what could only be flesh that had fallen away as the bandages had been removed.
"Lovely."
"Maluch…he's not healing," Soleil said, looking up at him. "The wounds are infected, and possibly becoming gangrenous." She gestured to several blackened pieces of skin that still adhered to the bandages.
"Should slow him down," Dean commented. If they drove through the night, taking shifts, they might catch them before dawn. He thought of the quickest route to Conway.
"Come on, we gotta get going. We can probably catch them there."
Laney looked at Soleil as he turned away and left the room, seeing the other woman's eyes brighten suddenly. She reached out and gently touched Soleil's shoulder.
"Under orders, honey, remember?"
Soleil looked at her, the smile that stretched out her mouth completely devoid of any feeling. "I will do as I am told, chère."
I-87 N, New York
Dean heard the soft, burring noise from the back seat, even above the engine and the roar of the tyres over the asphalt. He glanced into the mirror, seeing Soleil's head bent, her gaze on something in her hands. He didn't need to see what she was holding; the sound was as familiar to him as his favourite songs, or the sound of the Impala's engine.
"Soleil," he said, and she lifted her head to meet his eyes in the mirror. "No wildcards, okay?"
"Tell that to Eddie, Dean," she said, her breath catching in the middle as she leaned over the back of the seat.
"He knew what he was in for, Soleil." He glanced at her, seeing the razor-sharp blade held loosely in the hand draped over the seat. "Knew what he'd signed on for."
She closed her eyes. She couldn't argue that.
Dean listened to the rasp of her breath in her throat, his eyes on the road.
"You know, cher, when I met him, he wanted us to quit. To get out, go sailing around the world." Her voice was much deeper, thicker. "I didn't want to. I told him that we were good at what we did, that any other life would be boring, yes?"
She opened her eyes and met his in the mirror. "One day, you will stand where I am right now, and you will have to tell yourself that revenge is a sour dish, that you do not want to rend the monster that killed your love limb from limb, that it is not worth it, that the pain will not be diminished."
He swallowed. He knew she could be right. It didn't change what he needed from her now.
"If we don't get them clean, if it looks like he's going to get away, you can do what you want," he said. "But you said you'd follow my orders and while we've got a chance to do this right, those orders stand."
The silence stretched out between them, filled with his uneasiness and her pain. When she moved back and he heard the sound of the knife sliding back into its sheath, the stone returned to her bag, he let out a deep sigh of relief.
"I miss him, cher, I miss him so much," Soleil said. "I wake in the morning and for the first few minutes, I've forgotten, I don't remember and then I do and…"
Her voice trailed away, and he felt his throat close tightly, his memories crowding around him. He knew that. He'd been through that.
"You shouldn't be here, Soleil," he told her. "You should be grieving."
"I cannot." Her expression in the rearview was taut with emotion. "Not until this is over. Until that creature is gone, one way or the other. I don't want to let him go until that's done."
In her voice, he could hear self-deprecation, her awareness of her own limits, her own weaknesses, underlying a more pragmatic tone. She would do what she had to do, and then deal with the grief afterwards. It was another thing he was familiar with, although he'd never found that it had worked all that successfully, at least not when he'd been on his own.
The cafeteria in the hospital in Sioux Falls had been bright with sunshine, flooding through the big windows to the east, making the rather utilitarian-looking room warm and cheerful. He'd sat with Sam, legs stretched out under the table, filled with a calm and peace that had shocked and worried his brother. He hadn't explained to Sam what he'd felt at that moment, at that time; hadn't been able to articulate it all that well, even to himself. It'd been contentment, and he thought that Sam had gotten that, but it'd been more. A sense of belonging. A sense that no matter what happened, he was strong, strong enough to deal with it. He'd told Sam that he and Ellie would have to look out for each other, not just him trying to protect her. In the years since that moment, his view of their life had continued to change, continued to evolve. It wasn't that simple, he'd found.
The dawning realisation he'd had on that day, that he could be who he was and do what he had to, and have what he wanted as well, had been astonishing. It'd taken him a long time to believe in it. Longer to shake the feeling that he didn't deserve to have it. They hadn't talked about giving up, getting out, an unspoken understanding that what they did, who they were, was important enough to make the risk worthwhile. But that was tested, from time to time.
He didn't have a sense of what he would do, in Soleil's position. How he would feel. He tried to not think about it. At all. Ever.
Forest Edge, Oregon
The garden was black and white in the light of the half-moon, deeply silent, not even a distant plane's rumble to disturb the peace. Ellie stood on the lawn, arms crossed over her chest, head bowed as she prayed.
"Cas? Castiel…I need your help," she murmured, eyes closed as she waited for the angel.
The soft rustle of feathered wings was behind her and a little to the left, she thought, opening her eyes and turning around.
"Ellie, is everything alright?" Castiel looked up at the dark house. "Have the firstborn come?"
"No, no," she said. "I need information about the descendants of Amaros."
Cas' expression shifted from worry to doubt. "Why?"
"Because the Watchers said the key to Heaven was in the bloodlines, the bloodlines of Azazel, Araquiel and Amaros. Sam and Dean have the first two, I have the third. That should mean that only John and Rosie could possibly be the key, and Sam and his children should be safe, but they're not. Chasina mentioned John and Rosie were the most suitable, but the others were still acceptable—except she didn't seem to know about the key."
"We should go inside for this discussion," the angel said, taking her arm as he walked with her up the stairs. "The Watchers told you of the key?"
"They mentioned it. Reluctantly," she said, turning to as they reached the porch. "What do you know of it?"
"Not much. I have heard of it, in relation to the Circle and the return of the Watchers but the seraphim were not privy to what the Watchers were told about this." Cas opened the French door to the living room and followed her inside. "Michael knows, I think."
"Why is there so much mystery in Heaven over all of this?" She stopped and looked at him. "Why do the seraphim hate the Watchers and the nephilim so much?"
The angel's gaze cut to the side. "I don't know, exactly."
"But you have a theory," Ellie speculated, looking at the discomfort on his face. "Why, Cas?"
He didn't answer, and Ellie thought of the things the angels had said, the nephilim had mentioned, and the Watchers had told her.
"God really did give His blessing, didn't he?" she said. "They were telling the truth about that. And the angels were—what? Jealous? Envious?"
"Not all were chosen for the guiding of humankind," Castiel admitted. "And of those who were, they were powerful in some way, different from the rest of us."
His gaze swept the room nervously. "Amaros is older than Michael. He was the archangel who led the Host of Heaven before he asked to Fall."
Ellie nodded. "That explains Michael's antipathy, but what about the rest?"
"It's been a long time since the Fallen left Heaven, Ellie. They Fell with their Grace, with their powers and their knowledge and God's blessing. I'm not sure I convey to you what that means," he said, thinking of Anna, looking for that chance to do something more than she was allowed to, in the halls of Heaven. "It was a privilege."
"But the Flood, the wiping out of the Watchers…" She looked at him, a small crease between her brows. "Wasn't that God's punishment?"
"In part." Cas nodded. "It was punishment for the wickedness that had spread among human and nephilim. Not for the Watchers, or their children, though. They were warned of it, to allow them to escape."
"All right," she said, closing her eyes, as she fit this into the histories the Watchers had shared, and the garbled account Enoch had written. "Baraquiel and Sariel seem to believe that they hold something over Michael and Iophiel, something that will stay the arch's hand in a confrontation—is that God's blessing?"
"It would be," Castiel said, his expression thoughtful. "Nothing else would stop Michael."
"Does Heaven keep the records of the Watcher's descendants?"
"I don't know." He made a vague outward gesture. "That was Metatron's job. He was the Scribe of Heaven but he disappeared, or ran, over two thousand years ago."
"And no one took up his duties?" Ellie asked.
"No. There's Joshua…" The angel's eyes narrowed as he recalled some memory. "He said once…but it might not mean what I believe it to mean..."
"What?"
"He said everything was written in the Garden, from the beginning," Cas looked at her. "Amaros would know his line or lines, I think."
"Can you contact him?"
"Possibly," he said, and she saw his discomfort in the way his eyes slid away from hers.
"It's important," she pressed him. He nodded and she let it go at that. If Trish's ancestors had the Watcher, somewhere far back in her family tree, it might explain why Marc and Laura and Adrienne were also being sought. Or it might not, if the firstborn didn't even know of the key. One of each family would do. Why then were they hunting Sam and Dean as well?
The angel tilted his head slightly, eyes half-closing. "I have to go, Ellie. Has Dean found the firstborn yet?"
She looked at him in surprise. "I thought you'd be keeping track of him?"
"I can't. Not at the moment."
"Callie has left enough of a trail that he's closing in on them," she said, glancing down at her watch. "They might be able to catch them by morning."
"When he does, pray to me, please. I can hear you, at least."
She nodded as the air moved in the room; the curtains lifting and the flutter of wings echoed softly. It wasn't until she'd turned for the kitchen, she realised he hadn't told her what he knew of the key. She would have to ask one of the Watchers.
Conway, New Hampshire
The black truck bounced over the potholes in the gravelled drive, stiff suspension tossing them around as Laney pulled into the lot and stopped in front of the office. Soleil was out and through the sliding glass door as the brake went on, and back in a moment, a set of keys in her hand.
"One-nineteen," she said shortly. "Far end of the lot."
"Car's not here," Laney muttered unnecessarily. Dean nodded, frustration rising through him. The nephilim must have left before light.
Beside them, Trent pulled in, and on the other side of Laney's truck, Carl drew up, Twist parking beyond him.
"Hearing some chatter on the CB, Dean," Trent said without preamble as he got out.
"What?" Dean looked at him, nodding to Soleil to check the room.
"White station wagon, tearing up toward the 95." Trent pulled a map from the cab and spread it over the hood of his truck. "Heading north, got into Maine an hour ago."
"An hour?" Dean looked at the map. "Where are they now?"
"Last report was just south of Bridgton, that was before we pulled in," Katherine said, leaning across to the door.
"How'd they get wind of us?" Carl had walked around the back of the black truck and leaned up against it.
Dean shook his head tiredly. "They can probably see me."
"Even through the wardings?" Trent looked at him doubtfully.
"Laney was on backup, the Watchers didn't do her truck," he said, gesturing to it. "Not like yours, or Carl's." Or what Michael had done to the Impala, he thought in frustration.
He turned to the girl standing next to Carl. "Charlie, we'll swap, I'll ride with Carl from here. You're with Laney and Soleil."
She nodded, turning around as Soleil and Laney came out of the room. Dean looked at Soleil.
"Bangor," she said
Laney pulled out her phone and looking around. "Twist? You got the number for Rudy?"
The hunter blinked at her. "Shit, Laney, haven't seen Rudy for years. He was working across the border then."
"I saw him in September, last year." She shook her head. "He helped out with a hive, told me he was based in Maine now—Jer, did you get his number?"
Jeremy shrugged. "I went to New Mexico straight after that job, Laney."
She looked at Dean. "We could use someone to intercept them."
"Try Frank," Dean said, following Carl back to his truck. "If you've got an old number, he can probably track him to a new one."
He reached out and caught Charlie's arm as she passed him. In a low voice, he said, "Watch Soleil. She doesn't move without my say-so, okay?"
Charlie looked up at him, surprise dropping her mouth open. She nodded. "Yeah, sure."
He let her go and climbed into the red pickup as Carl started the engine. Inside, he ran his gaze over the dash, spotting the CB under the stereo. Flicking it on, he turned to the truck channel as they reversed out of the lot.
"How's Soleil holding up?" Carl asked him as he headed for the highway.
Dean shrugged. "What you'd expect."
"At least we know for sure Callie's still alive," Carl said, glancing at him and back to the road.
"Yeah," Dean said. There was that. He started as his phone trilled in his pocket, pulling it out.
"Hey."
"Hey, you get to Conway?" Ellie asked, and he could hear the rustle of paper in the background.
"Just leaving. They're heading for Bangor," he answered, closing his eyes. "Laney mentioned someone called Rudy?"
"Rudy Hanlon?" He heard surprise bloom through her voice. "I thought he was dead."
"Apparently not," he said. "She said he was based in Maine."
"Ah, that explains why Frank rabbited after getting a call. Yeah, uh, Rudy's a hunter, used to work right up north and over the Canadian border."
"Laney said he helped them out with a hive." Dean rubbed a hand tiredly over his face. He'd gotten about three hours sleep on the run to New Hampshire. "He any good?"
"Yeah, he's good," she said. He straightened as he heard an undercurrent in her voice.
"You know him?"
"I used to."
Dean was silent for a moment. Another piece, he thought vaguely, wondering how much this one was going to hurt. "You gonna tell me?"
On the other end of the line, Ellie sighed. "Nothing world-shaking, Dean. Laney and Twist and I spent a bit of time working with him in '06. Hunting in Quebec."
"And?"
"And that's it," she said. "He was young, reckless, but he had a good instinct. His mother was psychic, but he never seemed to get her abilities. He grew up more or less on the edges of hunting."
Dean stared out through the windshield, pushing back all the other questions he had. "Can I trust him, if Laney can get a hold of him?"
"For what?"
"To intercept the firstborn," he said.
"Yes." The quick and certain response surprised him.
"You sound sure for someone you haven't seen in a while," he said, doubt pricking at him.
He heard her snort. "Well, he might've mellowed, but when I knew him he hated angels. Every kind, the Watchers and the nephilim included."
"Seems extreme," Dean said slowly. "How'd he even know about them?"
"I don't know, he wouldn't tell me that."
"Huh."
"Wait a second—" she said, and he heard her call out in the background to Frank, could just make out the older man's rumbling response. "Frank got a number, he'll pass it on to Laney."
"Okay." He drew in a deep breath. "Ellie—"
"–Breaker One-seven, hey, anybody out there seen a white and beige Ford station wagon, going up to Bangor like a bat out of Hell?" Trent's voice erupted from the CB. There were several crackles then a woman's voice sounded in the speakers.
"Ten-four, I got a jet pilot next to me, matches that description, sugar, come back."
"Ma'am you got any friends and neighbours who can slow that wagon down? That pilot's got my daughter an' it ain't for fun. She's got some bad company, lookin' to get across the border, over." Trent said, his tone controlled.
Carl looked across at Dean and grinned. Dean's mouth lifted slightly.
"You getting this, Ellie?"
He could almost see her face scrunch up. "Yeah, I'm gettin' it, good neighbour."
"Don't 'ma'am' me, sugar. Rook, kick it in, you got that, come back?"
"Ten-four, Sweetpea, we're clean and green up here, you Juliet that flygirl to yardstick 32 an' we'll cozy up," the male voice on the radio said in a slow drawl. "Blank door, how 'bout cha?"
"Ten-four, Rook. Snowball here, call our twenty yardstick ten, hammer's down," Trent said. "Can you box it in 'fore we reach the big road? Come back."
"Affirmative, Snowball, gift-wrapping our specialty. How slow do we go, come back."
"Nothin' fancy. Double-nickel'll be fine, come back."
"Ten-four, back out."
Dean leaned back, closing his eyes. He'd have to remember to tell Sam about this one. "Floor it, Carl."
Carl nodded and the truck accelerated, Trent, Jeremy and Laney speeding up behind him.
"Dean?" Ellie said softly in his ear.
"Yeah, we should be able to get them before they hit the 95," he said.
"Even if you don't, you'll be able to keep eyes on them, wherever they're going from here," Ellie commented.
"Yeah." He opened his eyes and looked through the windshield. "Sam said you were looking for something, when I called before?"
"The Watchers aren't giving us the whole story," she said, and he frowned at the uncertainty in her voice. "There's something about the bloodlines, and what they call the key. I'm trying to find out more about it."
"Did you call Cas?"
"Yeah. He doesn't know. He's looking into it," she exhaled and the sigh was soft in his ear. "Whatever it is, they don't want to talk about it, and that's a worry."
Dean thought about that. "Yeah, it is. It's all quiet there, right?"
"Yep," she said. "We're good here. Dean, Frank just came back in, I gotta go."
"Okay, I'll call you later."
"Don't get caught in the cross-fire."
She hung up, and he looked down at the phone, ending the call and putting it back into his coat.
"Ellie okay?" Carl asked, shooting him a sideways look.
"Yeah, all okay at home," Dean said, nodding. He looked at the speedometer, sitting at seventy. "C'mon Carl, you can do better than that."
Carl grinned sheepishly and pushed his foot down harder, and the truck surged away.
Dean's phone rang a few minutes later.
"Yeah?"
"Channel Twenty-two," Laney said, and hung up. He put the cell back in his pocket and reached over to change the channel to twenty-two.
"-veryone on?" Laney's voice came through the speakers loud and clear. Dean picked up the mike.
"Yeah, we got you," he said.
"Good, we'll use this instead of the phones till we get them," she said shortly. "Frank called, and I got hold of Rudy. He and his team are waiting to see how the truck manoeuvre goes, he's in Belgrade right now, heading south."
Dean swallowed the desire to ask Laney about the hunter. "All right, how many extra?"
"Including Rudy, there're seven."
"That ought to do it," Dean acknowledged.
"That's what we thought last time," Laney countered irritably. "Let's not jinx this by counting chickens."
He smiled. "Affirmative."
"Ah, Rook, we got a breakaway comin' up your back door, come back."
Dean looked at the road ahead, seeing only the back-end of the two rigs in front of them. The road curved to the left and he saw a flash of white accelerate out of the northbound lane, tyres squealing as the driver shot past the semi in front of it, skating and weaving as they regained the north lane just as another truck came down the southbound.
"What the fuck—" He snatched up the mike on the radio.
"Trent, what's she doing?"
"Cueball, got her in sight," Rook's usual drawl was overlaid by worry. "Kid's gonna be road pizza if she don't stop tryin' to get past us."
"Rook, this is Snowball, how far to the big road?"
"Two miles, Snowball, I don't know that we can hold her if she decides to go."
"Just try."
Carl eased out, tyres on the centre line as he saw the station wagon pull out again. Ahead of it, the rig swerved slightly to the centre as well, and the station wagon drew back in.
"Anyone get an eyeball on the pilot in that wagon, come back?" Sweetpea asked.
"Got a flash as she went by," Cueball said. "Looked like someone was up behind her, come back."
Carl glanced at Dean. He pulled out his phone.
"Laney, call Rudy, now. She gets onto the interstate we want to drive her off. Can we get them in Lewiston?"
"I'll check," Laney said, and he dialled Trent's number.
"Trent, ask the truckers if they can keep her boxed on the 95 and send her off to Lewiston."
"Right."
"Rook, this is Snowball, come back," Trent's voice crackled over the radio a moment later.
"Gotcha Snowball."
"Can you keep her contained on the big road and send her west at the Lewiston exit?"
"Should be able to," Rook said uncertainly. "Can you get around us before then?"
"We'll take the low road, come back," Trent confirmed gruffly. "Keep on her till the second exit, come back?"
"Ten-four, Snowball, back out."
Dean pulled a map from the glove box and straightened it out. They could do it, get past them from the airport road. He called Laney again.
"Laney, he on his way?"
"Yeah, they'll come into Lewiston from the 11, stop them from getting past if need be, I told them to switch to radio once they're close."
"All right."
Lewiston, Maine
They were on the I-95 for less than a minute, and Carl took the exit down to the airport, glad the traffic was light as he barrelled along the two-lane blacktop, Trent right behind him. Twist and Laney had stayed behind the trucks, confirming that the five big rigs had boxed in the station wagon the second they'd gotten onto the interstate, one each side, and behind and in front. Callie, even under duress, wouldn't be able to get out of the box until the second exit.
Dean's fingers were itching for the wheel, his feet tapping unconsciously against the firewall as he shifted his gaze between the road ahead and the dash, seconds ticking loudly in his mind. They had only a few miles to get ahead of Callie, around Lewiston and back onto the highway leading slightly west of north.
Lewiston was probably a bad choice, he thought, glancing down at the map beside him. Damned town had a dozen roads running out of it, and he didn't think they could block them all. The state roads, four and eleven would be the primary blocks, and he'd have to hope the firstborn would try to take one of them.
"Snowball, this is the Rook, approaching Washington exit, you ready to catch the bird, come back?" The CB crackled as they edged out of its range.
"Ten-four, Rook, we'll catch her, open the cage when you're ready, come back," Trent's voice was loud and clear.
"Ten-four, cage opening now, back out."
Dean looked at the map and called Laney. "Where's Hanlon and his team?"
"Just entering Lewiston from SR 11," she said. "We'll push her hard down Washington, where do you want to take them?"
"Make sure she gets onto SR 4," he said. "There's a straight stretch before the lake, we can push her off the road there."
"Okay, I'll let him know." She hung up the phone, and he closed his, setting it down on the seat.
Carl was watching the intersections and he nodded as they came up to the turnoff. "That's her, Dean."
Dean looked through the window at the white and beige station wagon he could see in flashes between the buildings. They were converging, the two roads getting closer together. "You're gonna have to sneak out in front of her, Carl."
Carl nodded, watching the traffic around him and gunned through the amber light, two cars ahead of the wagon as their lights turned green. The red pickup stood out like a hooker in a convent, Dean thought distractedly, twisting around to watch the cars behind them, and Callie would recognise it. He hoped her acting skills were sufficient to keep the nephilim from realising how close they were.
Trent had missed the lights on the turn, and Dean watched the older man slip out behind the wagon against the lights, distantly hearing the indignant beeps from the other cars waiting at the intersection.
As they drove through the city's outskirts, the pale blue pickup inched its way closer to the wagon, and in the side mirror, Dean saw Laney's black truck getting closer as well, the nondescript white pickup Twist drove right behind her.
All present and accounted for, he thought. All the vehicles kept to the speed limit, flowing with the traffic heading north. Trent moved up a little more, settling in beside them and ahead of the wagon as Laney moved up behind it and Twist maintained his position a little further back. If they could just get out onto the stretch beyond the town, where the two-lane ran straight as it headed to the lake, they would be able to push her off.
"Uh, Dean, something up ahead," Carl's voice dragged his attention back to the road in front of them. The road was a sea of red brake lights, and beyond, he could see the blue and red flashing lights of emergency vehicles and the cops.
"Crap, what now?" He looked at the scanner mounted under the radio and flicked it on.
"-iple vehicle crash, off ramp south from Memorial Bridge, all units. All units."
"Fender bender on the off ramp," Dean muttered, leaning out the window and looking along the road. "Diversion is into the southbound lanes."
Carl nodded and shifted down as the traffic crawled past the accident, the drivers ahead braking and causing a stop-start movement through the flow as they rubbernecked the overturned vehicles and ambulance personnel who swarmed over them.
Behind them, there was a sudden squeal of rubber and Dean's head snapped around as the station wagon peeled to the left, narrowly missing an oncoming car and accelerated onto a side-street.
"Christ, she's rabbiting," Dean snarled, leaning past Carl to see the direction, as he grabbed his phone. "Laney, can you get down there after her?"
"I can try." The phone cut out, and he twisted around in the seat, watching her ease the truck out and past the line, dodging through a small break in the traffic on the other side of the road.
"That road dead-ends before the highway," he said, not sure of who he was speaking to. They were trapped here, stuck with cars on every side, until they got clear of the accident. The on ramp to their left was blocked completely by police cars, nose to nose.
From their position, he could see the end of it, trees and a dirt bank dividing the cul-de-sac from the four-lane road above it. He caught movement in his peripheral and watched a couple of cars increasing their speed on the highway to the left. Hanlon, he wondered? He hoped so.
Laney's black truck accelerated as she followed the wagon along the quiet dead-end street and he saw her brake lights flash as he watched the wagon hit the high kerb at the end of the street, bouncing over it, wheels spinning as they fought for traction in the grass verge. The wagon climbed up the dirt bank, listing heavily as the tyres spat out dirt behind them, then finally gained the concrete shoulder and pulled onto the highway with another squeal. Behind it, Laney pointed the truck directly up the bank and it hauled its way up, gouging deep holes as it went.
"Crap, crap, crap." Dean stared at the white wagon, now racing up the four-lane road, Laney a dozen car-lengths behind it and well and truly made, two other cars accelerating behind her. He looked at the map. Short of turning around and re-negotiating the accident site, they had no way to get onto that road, which ran on the western side of the lake.
"What do you want to do?" Carl looked at him, glancing down at the map and back to his face.
Dean shook his head, lips compressed as he thought. "We'll keep going, try to cut them off at the head of the lake. SR 4 to Lake Shore Drive. Follow the lake." He looked around. "The second we're out of this mess, you go hard."
Carl nodded.
The red truck lifted onto two wheels as Carl rocketed out of the T-junction, gees pulling at them hard, the painfully harsh roar of a truck's airhorn filling their ears as the pickup skidded across the two lanes in front of the rig. Carl straightened up in the northbound lane and accelerated toward the black truck ahead of him.
Dean glanced back to see Trent make the right at a more moderate pace, through a gap between the truck and the following cars. On the bend ahead, he saw the wagon, a silver-grey Mercury Cougar behind it, and the black truck behind that.
He switched channels to twenty-two, and picked up the mike. "Everyone on?"
"Reading you, Dean," Laney's voice came through.
"Yeah, we're here," a male voice sounded from the speaker, and he guessed it must be Hanlon.
"Gotcha, Dean."
"We've got about six miles of straight road coming up," Dean said, looking at the map. "That you in the Cougar, Hanlon?"
"Affirmative."
"As soon as you've got a clear stretch in the southbound, you can move up," Dean looked ahead. "Laney, you too. We'll come up behind and block any thoughts of going backwards."
The drivers' assent came through and they watched the oncoming traffic, waiting for the traffic coming south to thin out.
The road hooked a little to the left and for a moment, they lost sight of the wagon. Almost immediately they heard the sound of horns and Carl accelerated behind Laney, coming around the corner to see a truck skewed across the road, several cars pointing this way and that behind it, Hanlon's Cougar in the middle.
"What the hell happened?" Dean bit out, leaning on the dash.
Carl shook his head, following Laney's black truck around the pileup, and pulling over onto a clear stretch of pine-needle-covered ground where the trees stood back a little.
Dean jumped out of the pickup and stalked across the road, waving his arms at the white-faced drivers and looking authoritative enough to get them back into their cars and start pulling around slowly. Hanlon backed the Cougar off the road on the left, revealing a narrow dirt road leading into the forest.
Trent had pulled up in the northbound lane, holding the traffic back as the cars slowly made their way around the truck, and headed south again. The truck driver was checking his load, and he got back into the cab and started the engine, easing the truck around and heading slowly south. None of the vehicles had been going particularly fast, and none, fortunately, had any injuries or even major damage to their cars.
Didn't matter, Dean thought, walking to the Cougar. Someone would get on their phone and call the cops about the reckless driver of the white wagon, and they'd be here soon enough.
He focused on the driver of the Cougar. Hanlon had dark reddish hair, cut short, but with a pronounced curl, olive-tinted fair skin, light eyes, a hint of gold under the grey of the irises. He opened the door and got out, extending a hand.
Dean took it. The other man was about the same height, a little lighter, he thought. There was a lot of strength in the wiry grip.
"Rudy Hanlon," he said, his voice a clear tenor, a very slight clipped quality to the way he spoke, speaking of a lifetime here in the far northeast.
"Dean Winchester," Dean released his hand and looked around. "What happened?"
Rudy cocked a brow. "She came out of the bend, accelerating, and then cut in front of the truck," he said, shaking his head. "I didn't even see that goddamned forest road, but she was up it before I knew what was happening. We turned and caused the mess, just automatic."
Dean nodded. "You know this area? Got maps?"
Rudy nodded. "The road'll take them up to Livermore. They might get back on the 4, going that way. I have no idea where they'd go from there."
"All right, you and me, we'll follow them along here. Trent and Laney stay on the 4 and try to get ahead again." Dean turned around, waving to Carl.
The red pickup started. Dean walked back across the road to Laney's truck, looking at Trent who'd pulled in behind her.
"You and Trent, stay on the 4, as fast as you can to get up to Livermore. We'll follow them on the forest road."
Laney nodded, looking over her shoulder as Trent walked up to them.
He got in as Carl pulled up beside him, his thoughts chaotic. Where the hell were they going? Bangor was practically in the opposite direction and they must've known that the pursuit was too close now, way too close to afford Maluch a hospital stop or even a rest from his injuries.
Forest Edge, Oregon
The room was shadowed, a stray beam of light slipping past the edges of the curtains to light the Watcher's hair to claret, outline the edges of the temple and high cheekbone as he sat motionless in front of the bowl.
He didn't look up as Ellie entered, but she saw him take a deeper breath.
"They haven't left the car," he said, his voice low.
She sat down in the chair opposite, crossing her arms on the smooth, polished surface of the table.
"What is the key, Baraquiel?"
"The key is safe, Ellie. It cannot be made, not now and not by the firstborn, they don't even really know of it."
"We've thought that before," she said, looking from the bowl to his face. "And been wrong before."
"This is different." He lifted his eyes to meet her gaze.
"It's never different, Baraquiel. And if it's so safe, then why keep it from us?" Ellie asked. "Why not tell us about it?"
"Knowledge is power, Ellie, you, of all people, know that," the Watcher said, his gaze returning to the surface of the liquid in the bowl. "When too many know, secrets get out."
"Why wasn't I targeted by the firstborn?"
"I don't know," he said. Doubt was clear in his voice. "You are the only descendant of Amaros that we know of."
Ellie frowned. "Doesn't Trish's family hold that bloodline as well?"
"No." He looked up at her. "Her line is from Penemue."
She felt a flash of regret at the revelation; that the Watcher had died, that she hadn't found out before he had.
"Then why do they want Sam's children?"
"They must replace the missing with the strongest of the descendants. Sam is the most ideal, the one with the most of Azazel's particular code in him, strengthened by the blood he was given as an infant. You are the strongest of the line of Amaros. We've seen that, but they haven't sought you, have looked for Dean and for your children instead."
Baraquiel spread his hands out, as his eyes met hers. "I don't know why that is. Perhaps John or Rosie hold even more of Amaros' code than you do; that is possible, both have the abilities in great strength, but I do not understand why they've sought Dean. He is most compatible to Araquiel and Reuma is Araquiel's daughter."
A thought occurred to her, and she looked down. "Maybe they're operating on a lack of solid information as well? Maybe they think Dean is from Amaros' line as well as Araquiel?"
It would explain why they'd been unconcerned at the idea of her death, when they'd pursued her. She lifted her gaze to him.
The Watcher nodded. "Perhaps they do."
His attention sharpened suddenly on the bowl. "They've left the car. Only three and two are supporting one between them."
"Maluch," Ellie guessed, and Baraquiel nodded. "You can't see Callie?"
"She must be in the car still," the Watcher frowned at the images that appeared and disappeared on the surface. "They're crossing a broad, flat area…it looks concreted…"
Ellie felt her heart skip a beat. "Can you see planes? On the ground? In the air?"
"Yes." Baraquiel nodded. "It is an airport. A small one." His gaze flashed up to her. "They're going to fly out?"
"It's what I'd do," Ellie told him, her voice sour. She pulled out her phone and hit the speed dial. "They won't have time to ward the plane; how big are the planes that are there, Baraquiel?"
"All small, no jets."
The phone connected. "Dean?"
SR 108 S, Maine
"Christ, which way?" Dean looked past the Cougar in front of them, twisting around in the seat to scan up and down the two lane road.
"Breaker Two-two, breaker two-two," Laney's voice burst from the speakers and he reached forward to turn the volume down and pick up the mike.
"Laney, what's happening?"
"Callie just shot across in front of us, on the 108, heading east again," the blonde hunter's voice was loud and filled with disbelief. "We're following, but she's got a good lead on us."
"Right." He watched Rudy pull out to the right, gravel flying out from the tyres as Hanlon accelerated hard, and braced himself against the door when Carl followed. "Are they trying to lose you?"
"I don't think they even saw us," she said.
He picked up the map and looked at the road ahead. "Left onto the 4 then straight where it turns north. The 108 keeps going east," he said to Carl.
"All right. You get that, Rudy?"
"Ten-four."
"Keep going. Soleil, how big is the tank in that wagon?" he asked.
"Dean, we swapped it out for a thirty gallon," Soleil said, her regret evident in her voice.
Dean sighed. Not going to run out of gas any time soon, then. "Ten-four. Back out."
SR 219, Maine
"Dean, we've lost her again."
Dean swore. Ahead, the two-lane was empty except for the black pickup and Cougar parked on the shoulder. Dean gestured to Carl to pull up behind them.
He was getting out of the pickup when his phone rang, and he grabbed from it from the seat.
"Dean?"
"Yeah, what's wrong?" He pressed the phone tight against his ear, leaning back into the truck.
"The firstborn: Baraquiel can see them. They're at an airport, a little one, maybe a county or club somewhere," Ellie said, her voice taut. "Callie's not with them."
Dean closed his eyes and swore inwardly. His head snapped up, and he looked around as he heard the sound of car doors clunking. Ahead of Carl's pickup, Laney walked toward him, behind her, he saw Rudy.
"Airport? Near here? Small?" he called out to Hanlon.
Rudy stopped dead and nodded. "Bowman Field."
"That's where they are! Get going!" He pulled himself back into the truck and Carl started the engine. "Bowman Field. Are they trying to fly out?" he asked Ellie as the pickup pulled out after the other two vehicles.
He heard the tapping of keys.
"If they are, one of them better know how to fly," she said. "It's just a club airport, fifteen planes kept there. Tower's not operational today."
"Alright, we'll assume that at least one knows how to prep and fly," he said, his voice filled with frustration. "Where? Where they can go?"
"Anywhere within the range of the plane." Ellie tapped on the keyboard. "The club doesn't have the details on the member's planes. Dean, call the cops, get them involved. It'll be grand theft; even a small plane costs a fortune."
"Where's Callie?" He braced himself against the roof as Carl drove the railway tracks without slowing.
"Baraquiel can't see her, so she's possibly still in the car."
But the car wasn't moving or Callie wasn't, he thought, or she would've used the CB to call for help. His stomach sank. "All right. Okay."
"I'll call you when we've got some kind of destination; the Watchers can see them now."
"Okay," he said and closed the phone. He looked at Carl. "Step on it."
The Cougar led them along 219 and turned left onto SR 106 after they'd crossed the railway line. It was only another four miles to the airfield. The car and pickups drove through the shattered remains of the high chainlink gates, and Dean saw the station wagon, abandoned on the concrete apron near the tower.
The four vehicles drove straight to it, and Dean got out, seeing Soleil dive in through the passenger side as he hit the pavement. He looked at Rudy questioningly, the younger man's attention on the sky. Rudy must have felt that look because he glanced at Dean and pointed to a faint black dot, circling high above the field and then straightening out, headed west.
"That'll be your lot," Rudy said bluntly. Dean's eyes narrowed as he watched the plane.
"Trent—" He looked around for him, and Trent lifted a hand, already on the phone.
Not wanting to see what was inside the car, Dean walked to it, opening the rear passenger door and looking down at the young woman who lay, half-leaning against the driver's side door, blood trickling down the side of her head. He made himself look at her arm, bent crookedly over her leg, at the rapid swelling and mottling side of her face. The blood being aspirated with every painful exhale that came through her lips.
Christ.
"They beat her," Soleil said, lifting her gaze to him. "Beat her and left her for us to waste our time further. She has to go to a hospital, Dean. I think there is at least some damage to her lungs."
He nodded. "Laney, bring your truck up close. Soleil, you take her to a hospital and stay with her until she's okay. Trent and Kath and Oran can take you home, as soon as she can travel. Charlie, you're coming with me and Carl."
He turned around as Trent walked up to the car, backing out and facing the older hunter.
"Plane missing is a Beechcraft King Air 200," Trent said tersely. "Belongs to the owner of the field. Has a range of around a thousand miles and was serviced and fuelled today for a trip tomorrow. Owner's called the cops but without a heading, they're going to be pretty much useless."
"Rudy saw a small plane. Looked to be heading west," Dean said, gesturing vaguely.
"FAA can pick it up if it goes near a larger regional airport, but if they stay off the usual flight routes, they might not find it." The hunter rubbed a hand along his jaw, looking at Dean thoughtfully. "They only need to get a few hundred miles from us, land in some hick airport and ward the friggin' thing to get completely vanished again, you know."
"Yeah, I know. But any airport is gonna report an airplane landing there, aren't they?"
"Mebbe they will, mebbe they won't. They don't need much in the way of facilities to land that thing, you know."
Rudy stood beside Trent. "Do you think they're not heading for Bangor now?"
Dean shook his head. "I don't know why the hell they were going there in the first place," he said irritably. "I have no clue where they might be heading."
Other than the final destination, he thought bleakly. "The leader—Maluch—he's injured and he's been running so far. But they're missing four of their gang, and they need them and they need my family to achieve what they want."
"Where are your family?" Rudy looked at him. Dean glanced involuntarily in the direction the plane had gone.
"Oregon," he said, as another thought hit him. "They can't—they can't fly that thing there, can they?"
Rudy shook his head. "That would depend on who's piloting that plane. The Rockies are in the way and demand a skilled pilot. And they'll need to refuel, a couple of times at least, on the way."
Dean licked his lips, thinking about the distances. "Trent, Soleil needs to stay with Callie. You and Kath stay with her, then take them home as soon as she can travel."
Trent's eyes narrowed. "You taking us out of this fight?"
"This isn't a fight, not yet, it's just a game of tag, and we're not winning," Dean said, his tone caustic. "I want to make sure that everyone who's still alive stays that way, for as long as possible."
He looked at Rudy. "If they're heading west, if they're—" He stopped, dragging in a deep breath. "How do we catch up? It'll take us three days, constant shifts, to get back. How long will it take them?"
"In that plane? A day, maybe a day and a half if they don't fly at night, don't have an instrumentation rating."
Dean's phone rang shrilly, and he yanked it out of his pocket.
"Ellie?"
"They've landed. At a big airport, one that has domestic jets on the ground. I don't know which one."
Crap. He looked at Rudy. "Which is the nearest domestic airline airport to here?"
"Portland would be. Or Manchester, in New Hampshire," the other man said.
"Portland or Manchester. If they get on a flight, they could go anywhere," he said to Ellie.
"But we'll see them, no matter which way they go," she responded calmly. "Wait a minute—"
"What flights can you get out of those?" Dean asked Rudy. "Where can they go?"
"Ah, United flies out of there, Southwest … US Airways," Rudy said, thinking about it. "You can get a flight to Jersey, or Washington DC, or to Chicago. Most of the other flights are local."
"Dean? They're getting on a United flight now." Ellie said. "Baraquiel can't see the tail number."
"How'd they get there so fucking fast?" Dean snapped, mostly to himself.
"Beechcraft cruises at around 300 miles per hour. It's only a hundred miles to Manchester by air," Rudy told him sourly.
"Got it. United out of Manchester is Chicago-bound," Ellie said in his ear.
"Chicago." He looked at Rudy. "Which means another flight can put them anywhere in the country, or out of it, right?"
"Right," she said. "There's a flight to Portland twenty-five minutes after they land at O'Hare."
He closed his eyes. "They're heading for you then."
"It looks like it," she said.
"I've got a plane in Norridgewock, Dean," Rudy said, looking at him. "We go now, we'll be there in half an hour. My partner in the plane is a rated commercial pilot. We can be in Oregon by midday tomorrow."
Dean felt his stomach turn over and ignored it. "Ellie, get everyone to our place—"
"I got it. If you're going to drink to get through this, take lots of water," she said, and he almost smiled.
"I'll get through it," he promised quietly. "We gotta go."
"See you soon," she said, and he heard a lot more behind the words.
"Be just a little while," he answered, his voice deep. He ended the call, looking at Rudy. "Let's get going."
