The drive to Bloomington is a long one. I sleep for some of it, worry for most of it. There is a ball of anxiety and apprehension slowly coiling in my stomach the entire time.
"This is the street," I tell Sam and Dean when we pass by my old house. It's been done up in the years since I left it, with a fresh coat of paint and trimmed down front garden. We don't stop by it - Sam and Dean probably don't even realise that it was my home once. We continue down to Mrs Dahlia's mansion.
"This place is massive," Sam comments as we get out of the Impala.
I stare up at the old, Victorian house. It looks like the kind of place that would feature in a horror movie, all dark and dilapidated. Still, it brings me an immediate sense of comfort, some of the apprehension from before dying down.
"She's inside." I flinch at the suddenness of Castiel's voice as he appears right beside me.
"How do you know?" I ask him.
He looks at me momentarily. "I just do."
We walk up the creaky front stairs and to the imposing, black door. I knock and we wait, for a long time.
"Are you sure she's home?" Dean questions, glancing at Cas.
"She's here," is all the angel replies.
Another minute passes and I knock again, before finally the door creaks open. And there stands Mrs Dahlia, curly-haired and shrew-eyed. And not a day older than the last time I saw her.
In fact, she looks the exact same, not a hair or wrinkle out of place.
We stare at each other, both in shock, I think.
"Darcy Summers," she breathes, her voice a little croaky. "My, how you've grown."
"Hi, Mrs Dahlia," my voice shakes and quivers.
"And you've brought friends," she looks to the others. "Best come in now, I've got some freshly-baked cookies cooling in the kitchen."
We follow her inside.
"So many years since I've seen you," she muses as we move through the foyer. "When your father swept you away in the night all those years ago, I thought I'd never see you again." She stops in the doorway to the kitchen and stares straight at me. "But here you are."
I clear my throat awkwardly, subconsciously leaning back toward Sam, Dean and Cas. "Here I am," I laugh a little and it's all very uncomfortable.
"Enough," Castiel cuts through the tension in the air with impatience and bluntness. "We know that Darcy is psychic and you've been suppressing her powers in some way. Tell us how. Now." His voice drops even further at his command, but Mrs Dahlia doesn't even flinch.
"Hmm," she hums as she turns away, wandering into the kitchen. "I suppose you have it all figured out then, little one?" I can tell she's only speaking to me.
"So you did know about this?" I inquire, following her in. "About the psychic stuff and-and the supernatural and everything else? And you hid it from me?"
"I did what I had to," is her cryptic response as she slowly pulls out plates for the cookies.
"What does that mean?" Frustration seeps into me and anger and betrayal. I had trusted Mrs Dahlia, she'd been like a grandparent to me, a carer, a parental figure I could actually count on. But had it all been a lie? "What did you do to me? Why? How did you even know I was psychic?" She ignores me, continuing to plate up cookies. Anger bubbling over, I grab one of the plates and smash it on the ground.
She freezes.
"Darcy…" Sam reaches a hand out to touch my shoulder but I shrug him off. I want to hear what what she has to say for herself. But she doesn't say anything. Instead, she turns and ambles her way into the walk-in pantry on the far side of the kitchen. When she returns, it's with a glass jar filled with a brown liquid and a large, bound leather book beneath her arm.
"I hoped you'd never discover any of this," she says as she places both items down on the counter. "I really did."
"Is that a grimoire?" Dean demands, eyeing the book. "You're a witch." His fingers twitch like he's aching to draw his gun.
"Indeed I am," Mrs Dahlia confirms. "I used this potion to suppress your abilities, Darcy. I didn't want you to become like your father."
"My father? What are you talking about?"
"Your father was always troubled. Bad nightmares, bad feelings. He'd see people die in the most horrific ways and then the things he would see would come true," she explains. "I knew he was psychic, even though he would never believe it himself. He thought he was crazy, kept away from you as much as he could."
Tears fill my eyes, roll down my cheeks. I always resented my father for always being absent, for never really parenting me. But all this time….
"I didn't want you to face the same fate. So I decided that it would be better if you were normal. And that's what I made you," Mrs Dahlia finishes.
I turn away, using my sleeve to wipe my tears.
"That wasn't your decision to make," I manage to get out past the lump in my throat.
"How do we undo the potion's effects?" Castiel asks.
"I suspect they're already wearing off. It's been years since you've had a dose," Mrs Dahlia says. "Darcy, look at me."
I slowly turn back around, my eyelashes still wet, sniffing.
She pushes the jar of brown liquid toward me. "Take this," she says. "Drink it. It'll suppress your powers, hopefully for good this time, and you can lead a normal life. Get away from all of this."
"We need a way to manifest her powers, not suppress them," Castiel states.
"This is not your decision," Mrs Dahlia's voice has a hint of fury in it, one I've not heard from her before. "It's Darcy's. And she needs to do what's right."
With that, the old woman flicks her hand and Cas, Sam and Dean all go flying back into the foyer. The sliding doors to the kitchen slam closed behind them.
"What the hell?" I exclaim as I hear groans and swearing from the other room.
"Drink this, Darcy," Mrs Dahlia holds out the jar toward me. "And be free of all of this, of these hunters who will get you killed."
I shake my head. "You don't understand. I can't. There's more going on here, more at stake than just my life. I can't just bury my head in the sand."
"Drink it, Darcy," she reaches out and grasps my arm in a surprisingly strong grip just as there is a loud bang and the door to the kitchen bursts off its hinges. Castiel stands with his hand outstretched. He looks royally pissed. "Drink it!" Mrs Dahlia tries to pour the liquid into my mouth, her fingers digging into my arm and yanking me toward her.
Suddenly, Cas is beside me. His hand shoots out and goes around Mrs Dahlia's neck, squeezing tight. "Let her go." The cadence of his voice scares even me.
Choking, Mrs Dahlia's grip slips off me and I stumble back, straight into Sam and Dean who steady me as Cas slams the witch against the nearest wall.
"Tell me how to break the spell you've put on her," he pressures. When she shakes her head continuously, he tosses her to the side like she's a doll and she crashes through the dining table and onto the ground.
Then, Cas snatches up the grimoire and stalks straight past us, out of the house.
I look over at Mrs Dahlia's crumpled form, but I can't stand to be inside for one more moment. I feel like I'm suffocating, my lungs slowly being squeezed and deprived of air.
I rush out of the house, onto the street and crouch down, pressing my face into my hands.
For the past few days, I've been holding it together remarkably well, considering how much my life has been turned upside down. But this feels like the last straw. I can't take anymore.
I cry into my palms, my stomach aching. I sob and sob and let it all out.
When I finally feel like I have no more tears left, I look up. Castiel is above me, book in hand, his brows furrowed. I can tell he doesn't know what to do.
"We can't just kill her, Dean. We don't know if she's actually harmed anyone," Sam says from behind me as he and Dean come down out of the house.
"She's a witch, Sam. She poisoned Darcy. We kill her," Dean is insistent.
I rise, brush my tears aside and face them. "You're not killing her," I say and am impressed at how strong I sound. "She keeps to herself, doesn't hurt people—"
"You don't know that," Dean interrupts.
I am at my wits end today. "If you go in there and kill her, then you can find the bloody Devil yourself, because I sure as hell won't be helping you."
Sam and Dean both look somewhat shocked at my declaration. They exchange a glance, eyebrows raised, then begrudgingly agree.
We move back to the Impala and hop inside, Castiel even getting into the backseat with me. I stare out at Mrs Dahlia's house and there, in the arched window of her home, she stands. The car starts and just before we drive away, she mouths 'run'.
~O~
It's a warm night, the moon nearly full and glowing in the sky. We stopped at a motel to rest and Sam and Dean are asleep. Cas was studying the grimoire last I checked.
I sit outside on a bench near the parking lot. I'm too wound up to sleep and I don't really want to be in a room with the Winchesters. I know this situation isn't their fault, but it is tied to them and I hate it. I don't want to be a psychic. I want to go back to college and keep living my life.
I have a bad feeling that I will never go back to college again.
The door to our motel room opens and Castiel steps out. He walks over to me and sits down on the bench beside me.
"There might be a spell in the grimoire, one that could reverse the effects of the potion." Castiel tells me, looking out over the car park. I can't tell if I'm relieved or afraid to hear that.
"What if I end up like my father?" I ask. "Seeing death everywhere."
"I'll help you through it. I was on Earth for a long time many years ago and I watched many psychics struggle with their powers. I can guide you," he says. We sit in silence for awhile until he asks, "What happened to him? Your father?"
Not wanting to cry again, I take in a deep breath and try to be detached. "He killed himself a bit before my eighteenth birthday. I always thought that he just…couldn't handle life. But I guess he was struggling with more than I knew." I rub my hands down my sweatpants and change the subject. "Why are you doing all of this?"
He pauses. "What do you mean?"
"Why are you helping us - humans - find a way to kill the Devil? Dean said that there's three sides to this fight; Lucifer's, Heaven's and human's. So why are you on the human side? It doesn't make sense."
His hands clasp together and he leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. His pensive expression draws me in and I wait for his answer with bated breath.
"It was the right thing to do," he says. It's such a simple, yet weighted response, and I realise that we're both here for the same reason. Not because it's where we want to be, or where we always thought we would end up, but because to do the right thing, we have to be here. Because turning our backs on this monumental task would be turning a blind eye to something terrible. "I thought I could be a good soldier, I thought I would always just follow orders but…I realised that I had a choice. And I had to do what was right."
I sigh, sitting back and letting the cold metal of the bench dig into me. "I feel like I've never had a choice. I didn't get to choose my powers being suppressed. Didn't get to choose not knowing what I was. Didn't get to choose to come and help find the Devil. It's all been forced on me."
He looks at me and where his eyes are usually cold and blank, there is understanding and warmth there. "You have a choice now."
My eyebrows pull down. "What do you mean?"
"If you don't want to unlock your powers, then we'll find another way to locate Lucifer. You can go back to your life," he says.
It is tempting, truly. "No, I can't," I say. "Whether it's just my conscience or some psychic ability, I just know that…I can't go back. Not now." I shake my head, long hair falling into my face. I pull it back and tie it up. As I lower my hands back down, Castiel grasps my elbow, eyeing the prominent bruise on my upper arm from where Mrs Dahlia grabbed me. His hand slowly travels up from my elbow, palm warm and fingers slightly rough. The bruised skin tingles for a moment and then…it's healed, only clear skin left in its place.
He takes his hand back and I stare down at the marvel of his powers. As terrifying as this new world is, there is beauty to it as well.
"Thanks," I breathe.
He nods, going back to staring out at the great beyond. I study his side profile for sometime before standing up and stretching. "I'm going to get some sleep," I say and walk back toward the motel room. I pause at the door, hand on the knob. "Goodnight, Cas."
~O~
A/N: Hey everyone! This chapter had a fair bit of plot and a bit of Cas/Darcy development too. I really hope everyone who is reading (which is just a few of you but still!) is enjoying and likes the pace so far. I think Cas is a character where there really needs to be an established rapport before anything romantic can happen.
Please leave a review if you have any thoughts! They really mean a lot to me xx
Thanks and lots of love xx