A/N: Aaaaand welcome back! Hello again, friends, it's ya girl, Frankie Winchester, back with a brand-new chapter! I know that it's been a long time since the last update (like, five months but who's counting, hahahaha! ... It's me. I'm counting.) but I am back with a few chapters already written. As I stated in the previous chapter, I am going to have the updates coming every two weeks and see how that works out. I'm going to try to be better about this, gang, I really am.
So! I hope you guys are as stoked about the update as I am. Without further ado, the continuation of the sequel!
Adam sat on the bench, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His fingers were linked and pressing against his lips as he stared ahead. Before him was a wide, flat clearing with synthetic grass glimmering a too-bright-to-be-natural green. A group of white-clad patients were sitting around in a circle, their attention on the instructor in bright yellow scrubs. She smiled perkily as she coached them through the meditation exercise. Few seemed truly relaxed.
Adam's eyes fell to the sidewalk. A deep sigh slowly trickled from his nose. He couldn't stand being here, but he'd be damned if he left her alone. It was bad enough that he was forced away from her when she had to go to evaluations or group therapy. This was the most peaceful place he could escape to, not that it was very peaceful to him.
He glanced over his shoulder at the tall, grey building looming over him. He swallowed and dropped his head, propping his temple up by his knuckles.
"Mediation."
Adam flinched with a start, snapping his head to the left at the previously empty spot on the bench. A bald man in a black suit lounged beside him, his arm resting on the back of the seat.
"Does that stuff even work? I mean, what, all it is is just repressing. Forgetting about your problems for maybe an hour. It's not like they magically go away, am I right?"
Adam glanced back at the group on the grass. "Seems to be helping them fine."
"Placating isn't the same as healing, kid. Just another way to lie to the impaired. Tricking them into believing that their problems can disappear if you just – poof. Forget."
Adam didn't need this negativity, not on top of everything else. He didn't even grace the stranger with a full turn of his head before he gave a tight-lipped smile and stood from the bench. He sighed as he made his way back to the building.
"Adam."
He stopped, frowning. He turned to look back at the man. He was certain that he had never seem him before. Maybe he was a doctor? Off-duty perhaps.
"Sit down. I want to talk to you."
Adam glanced back at the door to the hospital. He really didn't care to make idle conversation with some stranger, even if he knew him, but it was at least an hour and a half before he could see his mom again. Whatever talk he had with this guy – positive or negative – it would be a helluva lot more entertaining than white walls, antiseptic, and the same Loony Toons episodes over and over again.
Adam returned to his seat. He flattened his hands on his thighs and stared ahead at the meditation group, waiting for the stranger to speak. It took a few seconds – a few long seconds, Adam concluded.
"You don't belong here," the suited man finally muttered. Adam narrowed his brows but made no move to look at him. "You should've been at school. Spending thousands on textbooks. Hooking up with the sorority girl with the ankle tattoo."
This time, Adam did look at the stranger. How the hell did he know about Emily? He hadn't even gotten a chance to speak to her yet, let alone tell others about her.
"Not here with all these mumbling, jittery loonies."
"Hey, my mom is one of those people you're talking about," Adam warned, seconds from just forgetting about this guy and ditching.
"Oh, I know. She's the reason you're here. If it wasn't for that ghoul mess way back when-"
Adam's lips parted, jaw slowly slacking.
"-the two of you would be Christmas shopping and gearing up for a long winter break. But you're here. Speaking softly when she wakes up screaming."
Adam closed his mouth to swallow. He tore his eyes away, aiming them nowhere particular. "Who the hell are you?" he asked calmer than he felt.
"My name is not important – won't mean anything to you. What I will tell you is that today is your lucky day. Your mom's, too."
Adam softly shook his head. "I don't believe in luck."
"You better start believing, kid. Because I have a proposition for you. A job. I'm a powerful guy, got friends in high places. If you come with me, do what I ask, I'll get you and your mom outta here."
Adam nodded again, more forceful. He tightened his lips into an incredulous smile. "Right. You're gonna heal my mom's psychosis and make her night terrors disappear?"
"Exactly."
His face fell. He turned to the man, now meeting his gaze.
"You're special, Adam. Chosen. You'll do great things. All you have to do is come with me and do exactly what I say, and your mom will be as good as new." His cheeks split into a wide smirk, appearing more mischievous with the lack of emotion in his eyes. "Trust me."
Adam flicked his eyes over the stranger's face, mouth pressed into a frown. He didn't like the vibe that he was giving off, but he did like the offer. He liked it a lot. A year ago, he would have rolled his eyes and walked away, surely taking this guy for a patient that stripped himself of his robes. But this was after the reveal that monsters were real. If ghouls existed, magic wasn't too farfetched, right?
He sighed, tightening his frown into a thin line. He gave a faint nod.
He was gonna kill Sam.
Dean supposed he was getting a taste of his own medicine, but this was just freakin' ridiculous. Really? Now was the best possible time to lock him in the panic room? When Michael was about to take Adam as his vessel?
When Cas gave the word that Adam was holed up in the Beautiful Room – the very same place that Zachariah shoved him into when he was geared up to say "yes" – Dean knew that there was no more to be done. His mind was made up. Weeks of second guessing, of dripping with doubt, had plateaued into the right answer. But not everyone thought of it that way.
Sam, Bobby, and Cas refused to let him say "yes" to Michael. Refused. As if they had a say in what his final decision was. It was his choice! The world was ending, an innocent kid got roped into this crap, and he had the power to end it all. No brother, old drunk, or downward spiral angel was gonna change his mind!
Dean's head perked up at the sound of feet descending the wooden stairs outside the panic room. He adjusted his seat on the old cot, resting his arms on his knees, and cocked his head as the iron door opened.
Sam stepped into the chamber, shutting the heavy hatch behind him. He stared at Dean, his eyes set in a stern gaze under narrowed brows. Dean looked around the round chamber, barren of all guns, knives, and pinup calendars that had once adorned it.
"You gonna let me outta here now?"
Sam crossed his arms. "Have you come to your senses?"
"I have actually. How 'bout you?" Dean snarked with a false grin.
Sam rolled his eyes and huffed. "Dean-"
"Enough is enough, Sam. Every second you leave me in here is another person's blood on our hands. I'm not lettin' the next person be Adam. 'Cause his blood? It'll be on mine."
"Saying 'yes' to Michael is not the answer."
"Christ…"
The screwed-up part was that they already had this conversation. More than once actually. And every time that Sam showed his face in there it had gone exactly the same. He'd come in, try to talk Dean out of saying "yes", they'd share hurtful words, and then Sam would leave. They were just going through the motions at this point.
"I'm serious, Dean!"
"Yeah?" Dean pushed on his knees, standing from the cot. "And how can you be sure, huh? What's so bad with running with the bull?"
"Because I've been in your shoes! Remember when I was so dead set on following a demon's orders that I set off the Apocalypse?"
Dean lingered a long gaze on his brother before averting his eyes. He stepped to the side, tossing his face to the floor.
"Yeah, well, I'm gonna end it."
"You're missing the point!"
"Which is what exactly?" Dean huffed, shutting his eyes and turning toward Sam.
"They don't have humanity's wellbeing in mind! They go through with this battle royale, millions of innocent people will die, and they won't even bat an eye! You know this, Dean!"
Dean scoffed and rubbed his mouth, a humorless smile splitting his cheeks. Sam shook his head at his brother, watching him pace around his cage. The mirthless look in his eye brought him as much pain as it did anger.
Sam dryly snorted. "All those times you tried talking me off the ledge… and here you are sulking. Calling it quits. I just wish I knew why."
"Why? Because I don't know what else to do. Not even a clue. The Colt was our ace in the hole, and you saw how well that worked out. Six months later, and we got nothing!"
Dean placed his hand on an empty gun rack, brushing phantom firearms. He nodded faintly before slowly turning to Sam, not meeting his eye. "I'm just tired, man. I don't have any faith. Not in me, not in you…" His eyes dragged up to lock into Sam's. "Not in us. And I'm done."
A heavy, brief silence was interrupted by the long, hissing inhale through Sam's nose and the much shorter exhale. "No. You're not. You're just… lost. You've forgotten what you're fighting for. And you'll stay in here until you remember."
"You two get up here!"
Sam and Dean's eyes widened in time with their brows furrowing – even more so. Bobby called them both up there. Not just Sam. Dean meant to put on a victorious smirk, proving to Sam that at least someone had seen reason, but Bobby would never agree to Dean's choice. Never.
Something was seriously wrong.
The two headed up the stairs, Sam leading. He entered the study first and uttered a quiet, almost silent, gasp. Dean knew whatever was in there had to be a new pile of crap and entered the room with a scowl. It dimmed, however, at the sight of his not-so-friendly friend in rundown shape.
"Cas?"
The angel's coat was wrinkled, his tie looser than normal, and his hair was too unkempt even for him. He harbored dark bags under his eyes and – most concerning of all – had a long, fresh cut on his cheek that had dripped blood onto the lapel of his coat.
"You look terrible," Sam noted, concern brimming in his wide eyes.
"I am aware." Cas leaned against the wall, grunting softly in pain. Not a muscle in Dean's face twitched at the sorry sight, but his heart went out for the angel. "We have a problem."
His face then suddenly hardened. Dean stood straighter, eyes wide and alert. "Is Adam okay?" he asked in a low voice.
"Adam is not of import," Cas answered with a weak wave of his hand.
"What?" Sam and Bobby exclaimed in unison. The younger man scoffed with a quick shake of his head at Cas.
"Excuse me?" Dean grunted, slowly stepping across the study toward the angel. "Michael's about to claim his Great Value vessel and you say that's not important?"
Cas' head reeled back, as if ready to heave an annoyed sigh, but his breath was instead used to utter words that sent Sam's world crumbling.
"Frankie is in danger."
The younger Winchester went rigid. His body was electric, staticky and numb as the shock of her name surged through him as fast as a lightning bolt. Once the initial tremor passed, a cold rush of dread trickled from his shoulders down his spine.
He couldn't look at Dean, not when he could feel the brewing rage resonate off him even from across the room. In the corner of his eye, he saw his brother dip his head forward, his shoulders broadening with a deep breath.
"What?"
"In Hell?" Bobby quickly followed, appearing the most alarmed by the news. He locked eyes with Cas. The angel, face stone cold, slowly shook his head. Bobby's face fell to the same frigid shock that coursed through Sam.
"Whaduya mean Frankie's in danger?" Dean pressed, his voice louder and no less threatening.
Sam winced, shutting his eyes. This was the moment he treasured avoiding. This was the consequence of waiting for the worst possible moment to reveal the secret that had been silently gnawing away at him for months – the consequence of being selfish with his relationship to their sister.
Sam crossed his arms and took a small step forward. "Um… Dean…" His brother turned around, pointing his scowl at Sam. He took in a slightly shaky breath, tensing and bracing for the fallout that was about to ravage through the study. "Frankie is alive."
Not a muscle moved in Dean's face. The only change would come after a blink and a short shake of his head.
"Wha-… I know. Wait- you know?!"
Sam's lips tore apart as his jaw slackened. His eyes widened, locked in place in Dean's staggered gape.
"How'd you find out?"
Sam sputtered jumbled syllables before finding sense in his words. "How did you find out?!"
"I asked first."
"Hello?! First time hearin' about this here!" Bobby exclaimed, pushing himself to his foot with his cane.
Sam and Dean were barred in a silent stare down, mouths twitching, fighting to settle on a single sentence to utter. When Sam thought he finally found the words to force out, heavy footsteps approached their side.
"I can see you two have some catching up to do," Cas gruffly muttered with a pointed glare. He walked forward, passing between them, though it didn't break their gaze. He settled onto the couch, preparing to watch the ensuing quarrel.
"You knew, and you didn't tell me?"
"Wow, Sam, hypocrisy is not your color." Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "You're in no position to be pointing fingers. How long've you known?"
Sam averted his gaze, licking his lips with a huff. He was not going to like his answer. "Two months."
Dean leaned his head back, lingering a long placid look on his brother. He hummed. Sam quirked a brow and gestured to him with a rigid hand, urging him to answer his own question. Dean righted his head and shrugged haughtily. "Two and a half months."
Sam gawked, slightly leaning forward as the shock swiftly overwhelmed him. "Holy shit. I've been tiptoeing around just thinking about her around you, and you've known longer than me?!"
Bobby limped to their side, his cane clacking loudly against the floor. "Hey, remember me? Gimp, owner of this house, reason you two ain't sharin' a pine box?" Sam and Dean finally broke their locked gaze to stare at the man tossing his heated face in their own. "You mind fillin' me in on how the girl we buried half a year ago is topside?"
Sam passed another brief glance to Dean, one that he reciprocated, before turning to fully face the older man. "Bobby… a month after she died, an angel resurrected Frankie."
Bobby's thick brows furrowed over his irate eyes. "Who?" He glanced passed Sam to Cas. The angel leaned back into the couch, his hands linked in his lap as he watched the scene with an unamused glare.
"Not Cas. We don't know who."
"Why would any of 'em want her back? 'Cause of that sigil on her soul?"
"Yeah," Sam sighed. "We think so."
"You keep saying 'we'." Sam and Bobby looked at Dean. He wore a deep, vexed glower that pointed at Sam alone. "How exactly did you find out about all this?"
Sam felt the overbearing need to swallow, but he choked it down. His jaw tightened as he maintained his stoic façade. His eyes flicked to Cas sitting behind Dean.
Any light that remained in Dean's eyes was extinguished. He leaned his head back as a dark chuckle clawed is way out from his throat. He stepped backwards until he was turned enough to look at both his brother and the angel. "You gotta be kidding me. Here I was thinking we were past teaming up against me."
"Look, Cas was the one who told me she was alive. He's been looking after her this whole time-"
"Yeah, I get that! I know all about his babysitting service." Cas' head cocked, his eyes narrowing. "What I can't wrap my head around is why he'd tell you but say squat about it to me!"
"Dean-"
"Two months. Nada."
"Listen-"
"No. I wanna hear it from him." Dean stepped the rest of the way up to Cas. He leaned forward, gripping the couch, as he shoved his glare toward Cas'. The angel was unmoved. "Spill it."
Cas didn't shift aside from faintly squinting his eyes. "As you know, I have sworn off keeping secrets from you, Dean. I was told not to tell you."
Sam shut his eyes in another wince. Dean pushed off the couch, slowly standing straight again. He turned to Sam, pivoting on his heel. "Told, huh?"
"It sounds bad, I know."
"Understatement."
"Look," Sam stepped forward, holding up his hands, "Frankie was in a delicate position, she didn't need us coming in unannounced-"
"And you thought that's exactly what I'd do."
Sam's head recoiled. Anger began to shine through the cracks in his flustered expression. "Yeah, Dean. I thought the moment you heard she was alive, you'd run to her rescue. The last thing she needed was us interfering with her healing."
"Me."
Sam paused. He narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Huh?"
Dean held his elbow and gestured with his other hand. "The last thing she needed was 'me' interfering."
"I didn't say-"
"It's all implied, Sam, I'm not an idiot. If you were that worried about it, telling me wouldn't be an issue." He crossed his arms, a dark expression shrouding his features. "You were thinking I'd do something to hurt her."
Dean's accusations sent Sam's mind into a downward spiral. His tongue was quick and sloppy as frustration took the helm. "You're the only other human who's been to Hell and come back. I thought you'd think you were the only one who could understand her! You wouldn't listen to me! A-And let's not gloss over the fact that you didn't tell me either!"
"Yeah, I didn't tell you," Dean irately shrugged. "'Cause she was fine where she was. I knew Cas was looking after her. I thought if he didn't tell us then it was because she asked him not to. And I trusted her to choose how to deal with her shit. Because I do know what she's going through." Dean slightly tilted his head up and he stepped closer to Sam, getting in his face. "But it wasn't her that told him, huh?"
"B-But that's the whole reason why I didn't tell you! She was fine the way she was!"
"Yeah, Sam. But I didn't tell to protect her from us. You didn't tell to protect her from me."
The younger Winchester could do nothing but stare into the enraged eyes of his brother. He had much more to say, but looking into the irises before him, filled with anger and hurt, clogged his throat, rendering his tongue useless.
Irregular steps broke through the tense silence. "Now that y'all have a moment to breathe, why don't you wipe the foam from your mouths and hear what Cas has to say?" While Dean's glare persisted on Sam, the taller man forced his gaze to the floor as they listened to Bobby. "I mean, maybe it's just me, but I'd like to hear about how the girl in question is in danger."
It took a few seconds, but Dean broke his gaze with a slight turn of his head toward the angel. "Cas?" he grunted.
"Frankie was abducted this morning."
"What?!" Sam and Bobby exclaimed together.
"Are you serious?!" Dean shouted, fully turning around and throwing his hands in the air.
"Have you ever known me to jest in dire circumstances?" the angel coolly uttered.
Sam stepped toward the couch, his hands gesturing wildly. "This whole time we've been yelling, and Frankie's been kidnapped?! Why didn't you stop us?!"
Cas' brows fell over his eyes. He stood from the couch, eyeing Sam intensely. "Firstly, you two needed to have this conversation months ago, so do not place the blame on me. Secondly, Frankie would be here right this second if I knew her location, but I do not. So, tell me, what good would interrupting what needed to be said do?"
Even through his own anger, Dean still managed to quirk his brows in diluted amusement. Sam clenched his jaw to keep from showing the slight intimidation Cas casted upon him.
Bobby looked the angel up and down, putting on an impressed expression of his own. "You grow some extra teeth, Cas? You've got more bite in you."
Castiel rolled his eyes, exasperated. "There are still twenty-eight teeth in this skull. I do not see how this is pertinent to Frankie's disappearance."
"Okay, okay, okay. Everybody just… calm the hell down," Dean huffed. He turned to the angel, holding out a gesturing hand to him. "Cas, tell us everything."
"I checked on Frankie this morning to find her missing from her bed. There was no note, and she wouldn't leave without informing me. I reached out to her, but she didn't respond. That's when I knew this was serious. It didn't take me long to find another angel, one who would know of her whereabouts."
"And how'd that play out?" Bobby knowingly muttered, eyeing his tussled appearance.
"Not all of this blood is my own." Dean narrowed his brows as he looked at the red droplets on the angel's coat. "Violence aside, I got the answer I sought out to find."
Sam lifted his brows impatiently. "And?"
A frustrated look bled onto Cas' face. "This is Zachariah's doing."
The three humans shared in a dramatic display of frustration, fit with Dean grumbling, "Great."
"So, he's holding Adam and Frankie hostage," Sam sighed.
Dean pointed a wary glance at the others. "Zach must know something about her soul."
"No. He knows nothing about her soul," Cas assured.
"Nope. He's after somethin' else. Somethin' bigger."
Sam, Dean, and Cas looked at Bobby. He wore a knowing glare, staring off at nothing in particular.
"What do you mean?" Sam asked.
Bobby lifted a brow, glancing at the tallest Winchester. "If Michael's movin' on to Adam…"
He didn't need to finish his sentence for the others to latch onto his point. His horrible, terrifying point.
"No…," Sam whispered.
"Oh, hell no, that is not happening!"
"Dean… You know what this is." Sam gravely looked at his brother, panic enveloping his eyes. "He's making us choose."
Dean matched his gaze. "Holy shit… He's Dark Knight-ing us."
"Enlighten me on how an adumbral cavalier is relevant information," Cas sighed.
Sam huffed before explaining to the angel in a voice strained with trepidation. "He means that Zachariah is holding Adam and Frankie hostage so they'll say 'yes' to being vessels. Adam to Michael… Frankie to Lucifer. And he's gonna make us choose who to save."
Panic pooled in Cas' eyes. "Frankie. It must be Frankie," he exclaimed, stepping toward the trio.
"Alright, calm down. I know we're all thinkin' it," Bobby approached with a conferring voice, "but we can't just abandon Adam."
"You don't understand. We must rescue her before Lucifer is summoned."
Dean's nearly blind anger was sobered by Cas' concern for Frankie. He was grounded by the true reality of their situation. He may be furious at Sam and Cas for having kept secrets from him again, but in the end, they were all just worried about Frankie's safety.
He stepped toward his friend, adopting a softer tone of voice. "Look, Cas. We're gonna get them both. Even if we get Adam first, I trust Frankie to hold out 'til we can get to her."
"That is in vain. She intends to say 'yes'." He locked his gaze strictly into Dean's. "The moment he asks her, she intends to say 'yes'."
Dean held back a furious shout with strain. He instead tilted his head forward and spoke with a dangerous bite in his voice. "What?"
"She believes it to be the only way to take Lucifer down."
"And where'd she get a backwards ass idea like that?" Bobby spat.
Cas dismissed the point with a wave of a stiff hand. "The details can be discussed later. We must find her before Zachariah summons Lucifer."
Sam's head was a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. He tried to brush them all off so that he could focus on conjuring up a plan to save both Adam and Frankie before either did something very stupid. "Uh, okay… Do we have any leads?"
The lack of immediate response was extremely disheartening.
Dean gave a long sigh through his nose as he rubbed his temple. "She could be anywhere on the planet. Hell, she could be on Jupiter for all we know."
The room threatened to delve into another period of tense silence, but it was halted by the sound of Bobby's limp and cane clacking noisily against the floor as he headed to his desk. "Well, as much as I wanna see the kid again, we only got a lead on one hostage. Better to save one than none. Anyone opposed? Except the angel." He fixed Cas with a firm glare just as he had begun to protest. Without any further halts, Bobby nodded. "Alright. We're burning daylight." He reached under his desk and unveiled a shotgun, holding it out to the nearest body.
"Let's get to it."
