Taking the stairs two at a time, Grace found Dean and Cas racing towards where they had left Michael locked up. The three of them threw the door open together, finding an enraged archangel about to break something. "He lied to me! Of all of us, he lied to me! I was supposed to be his favorite, his most trusted!"
"That's why we need your help," Grace said softly, taking a few steps further into the room. Dean and Cas had their eyes trained on her, both of them ready to spring forward if they had to. "We know you were there to help him bind the Darkness. We want to do the same thing. You're the only one who knows the spell. We want to stop him, but we need your help."
Michael slid a list of ingredients across the table. "Myrrh, cassia, rockrose. Good, we've got all of those," Dean read. "What's a Leviathan blossom?"
"It's a flower that only grows in Purgatory," Michael answered. He held up his hand, opening a seam in reality. "That'll stay open for twelve hours. Can't give you more than that."
"You coming with us?" Dean asked as he freed Michael from the handcuffs.
"No way," the archangel responded. "I'm getting out of here. It's your fight now."
Grace turned back to Dean, lowering her voice. "I know what Purgatory did to you, Dean. You don't have to go alone. Both of you don't have to go alone."
Dean was silent as he stared at the rift, Grace going to find a jacket and a couple more weapons. On her way back, she passed Adam - Michael? - who stopped to tell her that, "It was nice to meet you. It's nice to have more family around. Hopefully next time we see each other, it's not as high-stakes as this."
It only took her a few minutes to return, but the mood had shifted entirely. Dean pulled her aside as Cas began filling shotgun shells with borax, "for the Leviathans."
As soon as they reached the hallway, Dean turned to her, confessing that, "Gracie, I think you should stay here."
"Dean -"
"I know you want to come with us, but someone has to stay here in case Sam runs into trouble. He needs to know what's going on. And if something goes wrong on our side, we need someone to make sure nothing makes it through that rift but Cas and I." Grace frowned, Dean's voice softening as he promised, "I'll be okay. We'll be back soon. We'll be fine."
She pulled him into a hug, Dean holding onto her as she told him to, "Be careful. You two make it back in one piece, okay? Let's get this thing over with."
As they walked back to find Cas, Dean's phone started ringing. "Eileen? Hello? Chuck." He visibly tensed, Grace holding his hand as he talked to Chuck. "What have you done with my brother? Where are you?"
Grace dropped his hand as she motioned for him to keep talking. She just needed a few more seconds as she logged into her computer. Chuck hung up quickly, but she still managed to get a trace on the phone. "They're in what looks like a casino in Milford, Nebraska," she announced. "Does that mean anything to either of you?"
"Means we can drive there pretty fast." Dean was halfway to the door when Cas stopped him. "Dude, c'mon. He's got Sam and Eileen."
"Dean, we have less than twelve hours to get in and out of Purgatory," Cas objected. "We can't attack Chuck without a weapon. We have to get that Leviathan blossom. This spell is the only thing we've got if we march in there with nothing, he's going to win."
"And leave Sam and Eileen there with Chuck for hours?" Dean protested, pacing the room. "Gracie, tell him -"
"Cas is right," she said as gently as she could. "I'll stay here and keep tracking them and make sure they don't go anywhere. But you guys need to get that flower. It's our only option, and you're burning time." She stood, stopping Dean in his tracks. "I'll do what I can for Sam and Eileen. You be careful, and get back home as fast as you can."
Not too pleased with the idea, Dean agreed, dragging his heels as he started collecting borax-filled shells. He and Cas gathered their weapons, stopping to say a quick goodbye to her before they walked through the rift. Grace sighed, sitting on top of the nearest table and staring into the tear in reality that Dean and cas had just disappeared into. There wasn't much she could do. She would have to watch the rift, keep an eye on Sam and Eileen's location, and possibly wait out eleven hours in the bunker. So she went to her office, carrying an armful of books back with her. If she couldn't do anything else, she could arm herself.
As she waited, she got up to gather a bunch of different materials. Rosemary. Yew. Graveyard dirt. Yarrow. Powdered aconite. Foxglove. Blood. And the contents of the vial that hung around her neck. Checking the rift every once in a while, she collected her ingredients from all over the bunker. When everything was together, she drew the proper sigils, pricked her finger, and dripped a few drops of blood into the mixing bowl she was using. She paused, taking a deep breath before pouring the contents of the vial she had protected for so long into the bowl. It immediately flashed with a cold, black fire.
"Da mihi potestatem in bellatrix Miczael, in robore legionum eius, potestas infernos," she read, concentrating on the flames. They turned from black to a deep red, and then died entirely, leaving behind a dark liquid.
This was the part she had really been dreading. It would have been a lot better with one of the boys there to keep an eye on her. Especially Sam, who had cobbled together a decent knowledge of magic between what he had researched and what Rowena had taught him. But Sam was being held hostage by Chuck, and Dean was in another realm. Everything up until this point in the spell was somewhat of a normal procedure. But this…
She picked the bowl up, examining the syrupy liquid that had been left behind. Holding her breath, she raised the metal to her lips. It tasted nothing like the acidic poison she had been expecting. It was more like drinking a sickeningly sweet but incredibly flat soda. At least until she finished it. The burning started in the pit of her stomach, Grace dropping the bowl and clutching the table for support. The clatter of the metal on the floor sounded like it was yards away as everything started spinning. She sank to the ground as her entire body felt like it was being consumed by fire. It coursed through her veins, the prickling reaching deep into her bones as her vision started to go dark.
Scotland - 1040
"Victory over his forces? A lot to ask." The voice sounded like her own, but as she looked down at her hand, Grace felt like she was someone else. She was certainly dressed like someone else. From her clothing, it looked like she'd traveled centuries back into the past. The eleventh century? The tenth? "They were wrong to deal with you without discussing this matter with me first."
The man in front of her frowned, his voice betraying a thick Scottish accent. "Will I be able to conquer them?"
Grace crossed her arms, looking him over. The two of them stood in the doorway of a castle, already beginning to crumble into the cliffside and the churning water below. "Thane of Glamis, Thane of Cawdor, and King thereafter?" she contemplated. Something in her mind told her that she recognized this man, this scene, the very words that were coming out of her mouth. No, she had seen it all before, on a stage. It had been Miczael that he had dealt with, not three witches or three fates. "King Macbeth? Duncan travels tonight. You must move swiftly."
"What does that mean?"
She gave another cryptic answer. "Beware Macduff." The man stared, Grace finally sighing and telling him that, "You shall be king, and no one born of woman will be able to harm you. You will be safe until Birnam Wood marches on Dunsinane."
"Thank you." He began to move towards the door, but Grace felt Miczael lift her hand, an invisible wall holding the soon-to-be warrior king back.
"We must discuss my terms." She nodded to where he had buried a box of his own belongings - clearly a prototype of the spell so commonly used to summon crossroads demons. "You called for me, above all others, for a powerful purpose. I'll give you seventeen years."
"Then?" Lightning crackled behind him, striking the loch or the bay, Grace couldn't tell.
"Then Birnam Wood marches."
Trier, Germany - 1587
The sun sat low in the sky as Grace blinked, appearing in another of Miczael's memories, or so she assumed. As her surroundings became visible, she realized that she was tied to a stake, her hands bound behind her. Bundles of logs and sticks surrounded her feet. Looking out at the crowd before her, she took in the dozens of townspeople chanting and shouting, some of them throwing things at her. On her left was an older woman, hanging her head in defeat. On her right was another older woman, quietly crying and repeating that she was innocent. Her family was gathered in front of them, clutching each other in disbelief.
A middle aged man stepped forward from the crowd, a large book in his hands. The Malleus Maleficarum - The Hammer of the Witches. It was one Grace had read multiple times, a book that detailed the capture, interrogation, trial, and punishment of supposed witches. She hardly paid attention to what he said to the woman on her left, staring in horror instead at the boy beside him, who threw a torch at the woman's feet, the flames spreading quickly.
They passed by her, addressing the woman to her right. When they were done, they returned to her, the man trying to speak over the screaming of the other women and of the crowd. "You have been accused, tried, and found guilty of consorting with the Devil, of the crime of witchcraft, and of the deaths of Johannes and Maria Rhine, Franz Wolfgang, the twins Claus and Elias Muller, Johanna Schneider, and Maria Becker." He looked up, Grace finally able to see his face below his hat.
Her heart dropped as she locked eyes with the man. There was no escaping. Chuck's face stared back at her, both of them knowing their true identities, while the crowd remained oblivious. Something shone in his companion's eyes. As he lifted a torch, the boy's eyes glowed an unnatural blue. Michael. It had to be. "As Burgermeister and High Inquisitor, I now condemn you to burn at the stake until you are dead, and suffer in Hell for your crimes."
As Michael threw a final torch at her feet, Chuck locked eyes with her again, closing his book. He recited something in Latin, Michael throwing a handful of a sandy powder into the fire. It glowed green, the crowd gasping and scrambling backwards seeking safety. They would blame her, of course. But she and Chuck knew the truth. As the green flames licked at her feet, she struggled, metal handcuffs digging into her wrists. Of course. There was no getting out of this one.
She bit her tongue as the flames climbed higher, catching on her dress. When she could no longer stand it, she leaned her head back, letting go of the poor vessel she had condemned to death. But there was no escape. Once the demon had mixed with the smoke of the pyre, it was pulled down into Hell. Miczael couldn't move. She was stuck in an antechamber, in the depths of Hell where not even the lowest-level demons were forced to venture.
Bristling with anger, she cried out, hoping someone would at least be able to tell her where she was. "Well, well, well, looks like I've got a new neighbor," came a voice.
"Hello?"
"Ooh, you don't sound like you have a body. What did they do to you?"
"I don't. I think I'm supposed to be locked down here without one. Can't escape without one, I guess."
"Who are you, then?"
"Miczael, the Warrioress of Hell, the commander of the demon armies. Or at least I was, until an archangel and his annoying father found me."
The voice was silent for a moment. "Michael? I'm not his biggest fan either. My name's Lucifer. Looks like we're going to get to know each other pretty well. I'm locked in the Cage next door. Nice to meet you, neighbor."
There was no telling how much time had passed when she came to. Covered in a cold sweat, she realized that she felt no different. She held up a hand, summoning a ball of fire. It glowed a fantastic blue in her hand, Grace smiling as she threw it in the air, letting it shatter into ice crystals before pulling them back into a baseball-sized flame. There were no demons around to test her new powers on, but she had certainly picked up some new skills.
There was no little voice in the back of her head, nothing guiding her but her own intuition. She banished the fire and lifted up the side of her shirt, checking to be sure the anti-possession tattoo was still there. Slowly getting to her feet, she decided to try to stand in one of the many demon traps she had meticulously painted all over the bunker. The closest one was in the doorway. She passed cleanly through, able to come and go as she pleased.
Armed with the power of the Warrioress of Hell, and presumably with the power of its armies, all she could do was wait for Dean and Cas to get back. She checked her watch, seeing that it had been nearly two hours since she had started the spell. Thinking of making coffee, she headed for the kitchen, knowing that another sleepless night lay ahead.