December 27th, 2042
Despite the fact that he desperately needed it, sleep was out of the question. It had been bad enough with DJ there as a buffer, but now that he had to babysit the Queen of Hell and a pair of powerful deities all by himself, Sam was about ready to climb the fucking walls.
"Could I interest you in a cup of tea?"
Also, they never shut up.
"No thanks," he ground out, trying not to bare his teeth at the black-eyed bitch's offer.
"Do you have any sideritis?" Lachesis queried, busily stitching away.
"You know, actually, I do!" Rowena said brightly. "Let me put the kettle on."
As the women chattered animatedly about the magical and medicinal properties of the herb in question, Sam tuned them out in favor of keeping an eye on Atropos, who was still in self-imposed exile in the library. Whereas Rowena insisted that she was on their side and Lachesis professed neutrality, the captive goddess had been openly hostile from the moment she arrived. While he couldn't exactly blame her—apparently, his definition of the word borrow differed drastically from that of the demon pulling the strings—he couldn't afford to let his guard down around her, either.
"Drink up," Rowena persisted, setting a mug down in front of him anyway. "Ironwort is very good for stress."
Sam didn't know if she was just showing off for her new bestie or what, but he had no intention of consuming anything her hands had touched. And stress didn't even come close to describing the maelstrom of emotions wrestling for dominance just behind his breastbone; he was goddamn terrified, and Cass wasn't even around to give him a hard time about it.
"I said I didn't want—" he started, annoyed, but he was interrupted by a sudden burst of frantic pounding on the bunker's outer door.
"Open the fucking door!" Sam Winchester roared, voice muffled by several layers of reinforced steel and concrete.
"Better get that," Rowena said archly, nodding towards the mezzanine.
Sam trudged up the stairs like a condemned man on his way to the gallows; the only thing he'd been dreading more than this moment was checking his voicemail.
"Hey, Big Sam," he said tiredly as he let the older man in.
"Where's Dean?" Big Sam demanded, shouldering past him with wild eyes.
"Not here," Sam muttered as he pulled the door around.
"Dean!" Big Sam called, not hearing him.
"He's not here," Sam repeated, raising his voice.
"Hello, Samuel," Rowena greeted, sipping daintily at her tea.
Her presence brought Big Sam up short; he missed the bottom step and had to catch himself on the handrail to keep from falling on his ass.
"Rowena?" he blurted, bewildered. "What are you doing here?"
"I was invited," she replied smoothly.
Sam watched as Big Sam took in the blurred chalk lines of the summoning circle, and the scattered ashes they had yet to clean up. The dark circles under the older man's eyes stood out that much more starkly as all the color drained from his face.
"What did you do?" he hissed, accusatory.
"It's not what you think," Rowena said placatingly, setting down her drink. "Do you take me for a fool?"
"Where is my son!?" Big Sam thundered, advancing on her.
"Stop your fussing," the demon propped her hands on her hips, not at all intimidated. "I saw him safely off to Purgatory, is all."
"You did what!?"
"Well, I assumed you knew!"
"You couldn't have called!?"
"I wasnae aware that I needed your permission!"
"Enough!" Big Sam cut himself off with a frustrated growl. "We're wasting time; I'm going in after him."
That was the best idea Sam had heard all day; in several days, actually.
"Oh, thank god," he blurted, relief crashing over him like a tidal wave.
"No!" Atropos shrieked, startling him; he hadn't seen her come into the war room. "Absolutely not, Lachesis! I could make an exception for the boy, but this is where I draw the line!"
Big Sam did a violent double-take, noticing their audience for the first time. He had his gun out of its holster in no time flat, drawing a bead on the half-hysterical goddess.
"What the hell is she doing here!?" he snarled at Rowena.
"Put that thing away," the demon chided, infuriatingly calm. "She's bound to obey me, and a bullet wouldnae do you any good against a goddess, anyway."
"I mean it, Lachesis!" Atropos entreated her sister at a decibel that grated on Sam's nerves. "He doesn't die when he's supposed to, and when he does die he won't stay dead; he keeps bringing other people back from the dead—"
"Hush," Rowena interrupted, pinching her thumb and forefingers together. "We all know how much you despise the Winchesters; I dinnae want to hear another word about it."
The goddess' teeth clicked together abruptly at the gesture, throat working soundlessly as she glared balefully at the demon.
"You see?" Rowena smirked. "She'd dance a jig if I told her to."
"Are you out of your mind!?" Big Sam burst out, the veins in his neck popping. "I know that you're powerful, Rowena, but even you can't keep Fate on a leash!"
"What I'm out of, Samuel," she countered testily. "Is options, time, and patience."
"What?" the older man lowered his weapon and furrowed his brow, nonplussed. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the bloody cambion!" Rowena snapped, jabbing him in the chest with her index finger. "We cannae just 'wait and see' forever; something must be done!"
"This again? Really?" Big Sam pulled a bitchface as he swatted her hand aside. "What do you want me to do, Rowena? He's been in the wind since he was a kid! And your loyal subjects are slaughtering anybody who might have seen or heard from him in the past thirty years!"
"And why do you think that is, hmm?" Rowena queried, raising her eyebrows. "Why go after anyone who ever knew or loved him, if not to draw him out?"
"Well, it's not working!" Big Sam spat, shoving his hair out of his face. "It's just a freaking bloodbath."
"Exactly," the demon replied, expression grim. "Even when the bastards had his mother drawn and quartered, he didnae budge! A bit odd, isn't it, that he hasnae slipped up even once, in all these years?"
"Look," Big Sam said, making what looked like a Herculean effort to rein in his temper. "I don't have time for this right now; I need to find my son! Just call the reaper back and get me across the damn border!"
"Fine!" Rowena bit out viciously. "Maybe with you out of the way, the rest of us can actually get something accomplished!"
"Wait a second," Sam broke in, perturbed. "I thought you said that reapers couldn't do that anymore?"
The demon stilled abruptly, caught out, and Big Sam's eyes narrowed.
"I said no such thing," she hedged, primly inspecting her nails.
"You're a goddamn liar!" Sam snarled, making his way around the table. "You said this was the only way!"
"Hold on," Big Sam threw out an arm to stop him, regarding Rowena with cold suspicion. "If you didn't pay off a coyote, then how the hell did you get Dean through the Veil?"
She opened her mouth—probably to tell a few more fucking lies—but Sam wasn't about to let her weasel her way out of this one.
"She did some kind of spell on him," he told Big Sam, gesturing towards the spot where DJ had vanished in the blink of an eye. "And then she used the shears to rip a hole in the universe, or something."
"Shears?" the older man blinked, lost. "What shears?"
" My shears," Atropos said firmly. "And I'll be taking those back, now."
Sam's hackles went up in an instant, an involuntary whine escaping him; that bitch wasn't supposed to be talking.
"I thought I told you to be quiet," Rowena said sharply, eyes blazing violet.
"And you'll pay for that," Atropos informed her, matter-of-fact. "But first…" she flicked her newly-freed wrist, and the shears that had been hanging at Rowena's hip appeared in her outstretched hand.
"About time," Lachesis muttered, sounding bored.
The goddess' smirk faltered for just a moment, but she recovered quickly, giving no other indication that her sister's insult stung. She gave her shears a brief inspection; Sam flinched when she snipped them twice in midair to test their edge, letting his canines drop. DJ was the mythology buff, but Sam wasn't stupid; those things were fucking lethal. Apparently satisfied with their pristine condition, Atropos tucked the shears back into their concealed sheath and straightened her cardigan with a contented sigh.
"That's a clever trick," Rowena snarked, conjuring two handfuls of purple lightning. "But I've a few tricks of my own."
"You should learn some respect, witch," Atropos said scornfully. "Mortals might fear you, but you're no match for the Inexorable."
"We'll see about that!"
Sam braced himself, expecting a clash of cosmic proportions; what happened instead was more like a glitch in the Matrix. One moment, the demon queen was flinging out her hands to launch a bolt of energy across the room; the next, both she and Atropos had vanished, leaving nothing behind but scorch marks and the overpowering stench of sulfur and ozone.
"What the hell…" Big Sam goggled, sweeping his Taurus in an uneven arc across the space where they'd been. "Where did they go?"
"What the fuck just happened?" Sam gagged, tugging his shirt up over his mouth and nose.
"Chronokinesis," Lachesis answered dispassionately, plucking another hank of wool out of the basket at her feet. "Pause and resume are my sister's specialties; it gives her time to tweak things, and to set them in motion. It only works on mortals, though."
"I'm sorry; who are you again?" Big Sam queried warily.
"I've been known by many names," the goddess replied vaguely, weaving the tail of the fresh skein into her current work.
Big Sam raised a questioning eyebrow, obviously waiting for further explanation, but none seemed to be forthcoming.
"This is Lachesis," Sam rolled his eyes, frustrated by the goddess' reticence. "Atropos is her sister, but they don't exactly get along."
"You're another one of the Fates?" Big Sam clarified, addressing Lachesis directly.
"The Moirai, the Parcae, the Norns," Lachesis enumerated, starting a new row. "Call us what you like, we've always been here, and we always will be."
"Yeah, except your sister, who just fucked off with the only sure way we've got to get into Purgatory!" Sam barked, growling lowly.
Lachesis hummed in acknowledgement, but she didn't seem unduly bothered; it was really starting to piss him off.
"That's not true," Big Sam said determinedly, putting his gun away; evidently, he'd decided that the goddess wasn't a threat. "Summoning a reaper is easy, and I know how to trap one if we have to."
He abandoned the war room in favor of the library, sorting through the little bundles and jars Rowena had left out on her makeshift workbench with shaking hands.
"The demon wasn't lying, you know," Lachesis called after him, looking up at last. "Well, not about that part, anyway."
"Stop talking in riddles!" Big Sam ordered, banging a fist on the desk.
"A reaper won't be able to help you," the goddess continued placidly. "They've all been reassigned; young Jack has a strict policy of non-interference."
There was history here that Sam didn't know; Big Sam reacted like she'd punched him in the gut, pain spasming across his features.
"You're wrong," he told the goddess roughly. "He'll make an exception for me."
"Will he?" Lachesis asked, seeming genuinely curious. "Now that I'd like to see."
Big Sam sucked in a ragged breath, closing his eyes as he collected his thoughts.
"Messorum evoco qui me tetigit," he murmured, still trembling.
Sam shifted uneasily, fully prepared for another celestial being to manifest out of thin air, but nothing happened. Big Sam opened his eyes, expression darkening, and headed straight for one of the curio cabinets.
"Bring me the bowl and a piece of that chalk!" he commanded, ripping open the door and rifling through the contents. "Now, Sam!"
"Yes sir," Sam replied reflexively, scrambling to obey.
The sigil was sketched out sloppily, the herbs and spices were thrown haphazardly into the bowl, and it took the older man three tries to get the match lit.
"O theristes, kaleo se kai deo!" he intoned, voice cracking as the spell flared to life.
Big Sam repeated the incantation until the fire went out, tone growing increasingly desperate; when nothing appeared in the summoning circle, he sank down slowly into one of the library's chairs and stared vacantly at the wall.
"Shit," he whispered, scrubbing his hands over two days worth of scruff. "Damn it, Dean."
"That's it?" Sam questioned, hovering uncertainly. "There's no way in?"
The silence was all the confirmation he needed.
"Well, then, we've gotta bring Atropos back," he said, picking up the tablet. "DJ's on his own in there; we've gotta do something!"
"That katadesmos won't work a second time," Lachesis warned, pulling at a knotted bit of yarn and undoing several stitches in the process. "She'll be ready for it."
"Rowena, then!" he tried, grasping at straws. "She said something about a spell that could be done during the eclipse?"
"That's not for months," Big Sam rasped, licking his lips. "I need a drink."
"We need a plan ," Sam challenged, blocking the older man's way as he stood up and headed towards the kitchen.
"Oh, you mean like this half-cocked thing you helped with!?" Big Sam snapped, giving him a two-handed shove.
"I tried to talk him out of it!" Sam defended, shoving right back. "I begged DJ to take me with him! Where the hell were you!?"
"He stole my fucking car!" Big Sam shouted, practically spitting in his face. "And every monster in Chicago wants me dead; I got here as soon as I could!"
"Why weren't you with him in the first place!?" Sam howled, pulse roaring in his ears. "Why wouldn't you help!?"
He wasn't even aware that he'd started to cry—in great, heaving, uncontrollable sobs—until the older man had already tugged him forward to bury his face in the soft flannel at his shoulder, cupping the back of his head in one big hand so that he couldn't jerk away when the embarrassment of it managed to catch up with him.
"I'm sorry," Big Sam said thickly, remorseful. "You're right; I'm sorry. It's not your fault; it's mine. I'm sorry."
Sam did try to pull back a couple of times, mortified, but Big Sam hung on until the tears were spent, murmuring soft, soothing nonsense all the while.
"You good?" the older man asked when he'd finally gone quiet, holding him by the scruff of the neck and bending to look him in the eye.
"Yeah," Sam nodded, sniffling. "Yeah, I'm good."
"All right," Big Sam allowed, giving his cheek an affectionate pat. "Come on; I think we could both use a drink right about now."
Sam sipped politely at the scotch; it was sweet in his mouth and warm in his belly, but did nothing to dull the throbbing ache in his chest. Big Sam seemed to prefer a more direct approach, knocking back a glass or two before settling in to savor a third.
"So, what now?" Sam ventured after a while, taking advantage of the liquid courage.
"Track down Rowena, I guess," Big Sam said gruffly, shaking his head as he poured himself another. "I'm gonna kill her."
He was reasonably certain the older man didn't actually mean that, but he could get behind the sentiment regardless.
"I knew it sounded too good to be true," Sam mumbled into his tumbler. "What does she really want with those shears?"
"Rowena always has an angle," Big Sam muttered darkly. "The most selfless thing she ever did was still a power grab, so I can't exactly say that I'm surprised."
Big Sam needed better friends, Sam decided, taking another swallow. He had a decent buzz going, so he might even have said as much, if not for the excessively jolly generic ringtone that forestalled further conversation.
"Fuck," Big Sam swore, grimacing at the caller ID on his fresh burner. "I've gotta take this," he excused himself, stepping out into the hallway.
For a hunting legend with near-encyclopedic knowledge of the supernatural, Big Sam could be really fucking dumb sometimes. He had to know by now that if a werewolf could pick out a familiar heartbeat from across a crowded room, then eavesdropping on a phone conversation would be as easy as pie.
"Amber! Uh, hey," he stammered. "What, um… how are you?"
Sam snorted; that was smooth.
"Where is my son?" DJ's mom had never been one to mince words.
"He's my son, too, goddamnit," Big Sam grumbled irritably.
"Cut the crap, Sam," Amber retorted, impatient. "He didn't call on Christmas, and Jody already told me you didn't make it to Sioux Falls. Is he with you?"
"You called Jody?"
"Of course I called Jody; she doesn't fucking lie to me."
Well damn ; Sam let out a low whistle.
"Jesus Christ," she sighed, exasperated by her ex's stony silence. "Why do you have to make everything so goddamn difficult? Would you just put DJ on the phone? Please?"
"I'm not—I don't—" Big Sam spluttered helplessly. "He's not here."
"Oh my god, please tell me that he's not off with Garth's kids on another fucking ghost hunt! He's gotta cut that shit out if he wants to graduate on time!"
For a few seconds, all Big Sam did was breathe; in and out, strained and unsteady.
"Not exactly," he said at last, choosing his words carefully. "It's just… Amber, you might want to sit down."
"Sit down?" she repeated sharply, picking up on the sober tone. "Sam, what's going on? What's wrong?"
Heat prickled behind his eyes as Big Sam recounted the events of the last few days, laying out the enormity of their fuck-ups in excruciating detail. He didn't want to hear this part; didn't need to. It wasn't like he was ever going to forget what it felt like to watch his brother bleed out on a dirty concrete floor. Sam cupped his hands around his ears as Amber started to scream and swear.
As it turned out, he wasn't finished crying, after all.
This is the first chapter in the series that I've written from an alternate POV; Sam's going to narrate what's happening topside while DJ's down below. Let me know what you think!
