Careful What You Wish For
Chapter Seven
In the Name of Thy Father
"Mom?" Kayla couldn't believe it. Her mother had just actually recognized her. Before she could help it, tears had sprung into her eyes. Daphne sat herself up enough to embrace her child, and the two remained that way for a few moments.
"I had the strangest drea-" the older woman fell silent as she spotted Castiel standing across the room. Recognition flickered in her eyes. Her arms tightened around her daughter.
Cass crossed the distance before she could take any other action, laying his hand gently on Kayla's back to cause her to release her mother. Kayla tried to keep herself between them, but both gently edged her aside.
"You know who I am." Cass told her without preamble.
Daphne shook her head slightly. "I know what you are. There's a difference."
Unconsciously, Cass made a sound in the back of his throat, acknowledging the difference in the two statements. "How?"
"Martin taught me. Something about your eyes. I had to be able to recognize your kind if something happened to Martin, because... because..." Daphne trailed off, unwilling or perhaps, unable to finish.
Kayla reached out first, taking her mother's hand in her own. "Because what, Mom? Because they would come for me? Because they would try to kill me?"
Mutely, Daphne nodded. "Because you're special." Kayla resisted rolling her eyes at that. It was a line many boys had tried to use on her when she was in high school. A line she never bit on, but to hear her mother use it now was almost insulting. Daphne didn't stop there, squeezing her daughter's hand. "Do you trust him?"
"Huh? Him?" Kayla looked at Castiel. "I barely know him, Mom. But..." She trailed off, thinking. Remembering. Cass had refused to kill her outright, contrary to the recommendation of that other angel. The Winchester boys trusted him implicitly, almost without question. She tried to grin, tried to make light of the situation. "He hasn't tried to kill me yet, so I suppose I do."
Daphne took a deep breath and winced, placing her hand to her forehead for a moment. Cass tensed, wondering what was going on, but the moment passed, and her features eased once more. Reaching up, the mother stroked her daughter's hair, smoothing it away from her face. "You look just like your father," she mused quietly. And then, looking at Cass, she smiled softly. "She was only a year old, when I learned what they are. I came home from work, and found Kayla's dolls dancing in the middle of the floor while she clapped, and Martin looked on." She winced again, pressing both hands to her temples, as though fighting against something.
"Mom? Mom, what's wrong?" Kayla's voice grew more concerned the longer that Daphne didn't respond. Cass moved forward, flanking the nephilim, touching Daphne's arm lightly with his fingertips.
"She's reverting back." Awe leaked into his voice quietly, as he drew back from the woman. Never before had his healing not taken permanent hold. Whatever, or whoever had driven her mad was much more powerful than him.
Daphne gasped.
"Mom! Don't go! I need you!" Kayla practically crawled up onto the bed, kneeling beside her mother, trying to get the woman to focus on her.
For a split second, Daphne's eyes opened. "Menlo.. find... Menlo..." As soon as the words were out, Kayla watched her mother's eyes dilate, and become unfocused. In a split second, Kayla had returned to a motherless orphan. Her hands fell back to her lap, and Kayla doubled over with a hard sob.
Sam was engrossed in a volume of Enochian lore, one of the many volumes that Kayla had left out when she had followed Castiel. He was worried, and trying hard not to show it, so he kept his face buried in a book. Dean for his part was doing the same, except instead of a book, Dean's nose was buried in the inner gears of his beloved Impala. Sam could occasionally hear the dull mumble of Bobby's voice as he called around in the kitchen to check on contacts, and informants, hoping to have a lead on Eve's whereabouts.
Sam was so engrossed with the theory that most of mythology's greatest heroes were descendants of the first Nephilim that he never noticed the slight sound behind him. Not until a small hand came to rest on his shoulder, causing him to nearly jump right out of his skin. The book dropped to his lap, as he spun the chair around violently, hoping to dislodge any opportunity for attack. Taken completely by surprise at his sudden action, Kayla stumbled backward, and knocked into a stack of books, the top dozen or so of which began a slow, despondent slide to crash upon the floor.
She stayed there, her back against the stacks, afraid that the slightest move would send more books crashing to the floor. Bobby glanced in from the kitchen, but remained content to let Sam handle it. The girl looked like she'd been crying anyhow, her bright eyes puffy and red-rimmed. After moving the book from his lap, Sam cautiously righted the stack behind her, reaching right over her head and shoulders to make sure nothing else would fall. As soon as he gave the nod that everything was safe, Kayla stepped forward, buried her face in his chest and threw her arms around his waist.
For a moment, he thought she was going to start crying again, but she didn't. Instead she squeezed him until he thought he was going to asphyxiate. When he made a quiet gasping sound, Kayla released him abruptly, stepping back to look up with an apology. Looping his arm around her shoulders, to guide her over to the couch, Sam shrugged it off. Something had happened, and he was going to find out what.
A quick glance around the room reminded him that Bobby didn't exactly keep tissues on hand for tearful girls. Sitting down with her on the couch, he framed her face with his hands and did his best to wipe away the tear marks streaking down her cheeks. After only a few seconds, Kayla pulled away, hunching her shoulders, and hiding behind the curtain of her hair.
"Hey, what happened?" Sam persisted, reaching out to push her hair back, so he could study her face in profile. He didn't ask the second question on his mind Where's Cass? Mostly because he figured that her current state had something to do with him.
Kayla closed her eyes, sniffled, and fought the urge to just break down into tears again. When she finally managed to speak, her voice was choked and tight. "I... I had my mom back... for all of five minutes."
Sam felt an instant pang of sympathy. How many times had he and his brother gone through that same feeling? Seeing their own mother, only to have her be ripped away again. He had no clue what to say to comfort her, so he wrapped his arm around her shoulders again and pulled her close. Kayla offered no resistance this time, letting herself get folded up against his chest. It was nice to be hugged; nice to have the actual human contact.
"She recognized me, Sam..." Kayla continued, mumbling against his shirt. "She looked right at me, and saw me... Talked right to me. And then.. then... she was just gone."
Sam felt the tremble of her shoulders a moment before she started crying again. The wetness of her tears blossomed on his shirt, but she stayed quiet, barely whimpering as she cried freely. Sam rocked her gently, recognizing the signs of her complete emotional exhaustion. He raised his eyes to a small noise across the room, where Bobby and Dean were watching.
Help me, please, Sam cast in his brother's direction, beseeching with just a look. Dean tipped the neck of his beer in Sam's direction, a little grin playing on the edges of his mouth. You're on your own, Sammy, was the intent behind it. Bobby elbowed the elder Winchester hard, and retreated into the kitchen for a moment. He came back with a damp towel, and a glass of water. Settling himself down on the couch on the opposite side of her, he offered the towel first.
"Wash your face, child." Bobby's voice took on that gentle tone that he only ever used when someone was truly in distress or hurt. Kayla dutifully took the towel and pressed it to her face, sighing in relief as the cool cloth soothed her eyes. "Where's Cass, now?"
She shook her head, removing the towel for a brief second to answer. "He went someplace I couldn't follow." She pressed the towel back to her face again, sagging a little.
Sam's hand dropped from her shoulder, but remained on the back of the couch. He and Dean exchanged a glance, which Dean ended up clarifying for those who couldn't read their looks. "Probably got called to battle or something. Y'know... Angel stuff."
"Didja learn anythin?" Bobby pushed, a little more of his characteristic brusqueness coming through.
Kayla folded the towel up, feeling, and looking a lot more human, and she swallowed hard before answering. "She told me to find someone called Menlo." Bobby offered her the water, which she accepted with a pale smile, and sipped while she tried to figure out the reactions on the three faces around her.
"Men low?" Dean repeated. "Why do I get a bad feeling about this?"
"It sounds familiar, doesn't it?" Sam glanced at Bobby, who had already adopted his trademark puzzled frown as he pondered the word. Instead of continuing verbally, Bobby got to his feet and started combing the stacks of his books, muttering softly to himself as he read the titles, obviously looking for a particular volume.
Dean took the vacated spot on the couch, tucking one leg beneath him and leaning against the arm so he could watch the girl more carefully. "And Cass... you said he went somewhere you couldn't follow, right? How did you know you couldn't follow him?"
She bit her lip slightly. It was obvious that question had never occurred to her. "I just couldn't," she repeated a few times, as though trying to remember.
"How'd you do it before?" Sam picked up on where Dean was going with this: get Kayla's mind off what happened with her mother, and start her thinking about how to get a handle on what she can do. "You left us in the dust so easily before."
Her lips quirked into a little smile at the sideways praise. She scooted back a little on the couch so she couldn't have to swivel so much to look at each brother as he talked. She leaned her head back and focused on the ceiling for a moment. "I guess... I guess I just close my eyes, and picture where I want to be, or who I want to go to. I couldn't go to Castiel because I couldn't... focus, I guess. Not on him."
"Well, that sounds simple enough." Dean arched a brow and toasted to that idea. "You've got a Star Trek transporter beam in your head."
Kayla opened her mouth to protest, and correct him, but was interrupted by a triumphant "Ah-ha!" from across the room. Three sets of eyes focused on Bobby expectantly, as he turned back an old wavy vellum page in the book he was holding. He remained silent though, reading through a passage, squinting until his arms found the right distance to hold the book.
"Ah-ha what, Bobby?" Dean finally prompted, tired of waiting for the suspence.
Glancing up, Bobby studied the faces of those watching him. "This isn't good, boys. The angel Menlo is basically Michael's bitch."
"Are we sure this is going to work?" Kayla's voice shook as she forced herself to control her fear.
They had picked part of the salvage yard with a wide flat area. Dean was dragging the edge of a pickax in the dirt to create a shallow, narrow trench, while Sam was inside that circle weighing down a tarp with stones. The top of the tarp was painted with eldritch symbols, some of which Kayla vaguely recognized from her mother's artwork, while others looked like nothing more than a pile of squiggles. Bobby set the two jugs he was carrying down, and tried to offer her a smile.
"It's worked before. On ones more powerful than this one." He assured, sounding most confident of himself.
She bit her lip in response. Bobby was starting to believe that was how to stopped herself from speaking what was on her mind. The girl was pretty forthright most times, and she'd displayed no shortage of courage when it counted. He still felt his idea was best. The sooner they started teaching her, the better off she'd be in the long run. Dean'd never go for it, but he resolved to mention it to Sam sooner than later.
Sam stepped gingerly outside of the circle, while Bobby handed Dean one of the jugs. Bending down, Dean carefully filled the little moat he'd dug with holy oil, and then inspected the work carefully to make sure there were no breaks in the circle. Once he was satisfied, he returned to Bobby's side.
"We are ready to rock and roll." Dean sounded more confident than he felt. Angels were not high on his screw-with list, especially not angels allied to Michael. Retreating to Sam and Kayla's sides, Dean let Bobby do the hard work.
Neither of the boys had Bobby's knack with languages, sigils, signs, circles, yes, but never with spoken language. It was up to Bobby to make sure he didn't make a mistake reading out the summoning spell. Sam had a match ready to strike just in case the spell didn't ignite the oil like it was supposed to. Dean leaned against the old junker car, and hoped this fireworks show would be a short one.
As Bobby intoned the spell, Kayla shivered. The words were making her skin crawl, as though someone had poured a thousand ants inside her skin. She rubbed her arms subconsciously, and drew curious glances from the brothers, but she managed to get them to dismiss her unease as the same brand of nervousness that had been plaguing her since the start. She probably would have been able to keep them disinterested if she hadn't physically jumped out of her skin as Bobby's finished off the spell with a few short, snapping words.
Her reaction brought the Winchester's attentions away from the circle, and over to her. Sam reached out and looped his arm around her shoulders, as though that would comfort and keep her safe. Dean almost shook his head at his brother's compassion, but reminded himself silently that the situation could have been worse. Sam-with-his-soul was much better to have around than Sam-without. The two were so distracted that they missed Bobby's muffled curse as the holy oil ignited spontaneously into six-foot flames.
"SUFFER NOT THE ABOMINATION TO LIVE!" A voice boomed from behind the wall of flame. It was enough to break Kayla's resolve, and cause her to climb over the hood of the junker and hide behind it. "HEED ME! DESTROY IT BEFORE IT DESTROYS YOU!"
Suddenly, there was coughing, and wheezing, and the strong booming voice died out. As coughing continued, the flames flickered down to a much more manageable level, dropping enough to reveal the figure trapped inside the circle. He was doubled over, in the center of the sigils, hacking into his hand, as Dean ventured up to check on Bobby.
The older hunter waved off his concern, and the two of them studied the angelic vessel before them. He was dirty, unkempt, and unwashed. Obviously homeless, he was also apparently very sick. The vessel stopped coughing, and took a deep, lung-rattling breath. He became very aware of being watched, and did his best to straighten himself up. Seated deep inside his dread-locked hair and beard, a pair of amber eyes, bright enough to be called gold, stared back at Dean.
"Failure... Coward..." the homeless man hissed, hobbling forward a few steps, pointing at Dean. "Reject!" He rolled his r's like he was speaking a foreign language. Even gasping for air, the man's voice was strong, low and deep.
"Hey, now there's no need for name-calling," Dean protested. "Menlo, I presume?"
The homeless man nodded, unable to deny an answer. "Standard bearer for the first Legion... Shield-bearer for the tutelary sar, the angel of repentance, ruler of the Fourth Heaven... Michael."
Bobby and Dean glanced at each other. Dean stifled a laugh, and smirking stepped a little closer to the circle of fire. "Well, ain't that special? So, Menlo... you tellin' us to kill the girl because it's good for us, or because it's good for you? Cause last time I looked, you angel folk were wings-deep in a holy civil war..."
Menlo spat on the tarp, a gobbet of viscous yellow mucus. "Because of you, because of that upstart throne, my brother... my commander... is trapped in Hell, and Raphael refuses to allow any of us to attempt to rescue him." The harsh venom in the angel's words caused the flames to flicker a little higher. Menlo took a cautious step back from the edge, casting a hateful glance toward Kayla. "Kill her... your angel butt-buddy is back to losing. And the faster we win this... the faster my commander is free."
"Woah, woah... let's get one thing straight... Cass is not my butt-buddy. What we have is a completely normal, utterly platonic relationship." How Dean managed to make comments like that with a straight face, Bobby would never know. It was taking all the discipline he had not to bust out laughing. "Second thing, Michael is not getting out of that Cage, not now, not ever, certainly not while I'm alive and kicking."
Menlo drew breath for more venom, but began coughing again. The interruption was just what was needed though, as Kayla had gathered herself and ventured up to stand beside Dean. Sam was there with her, flanking her opposite side, just in case. Dean caught his brother's glance, and nodded slightly, agreeing to back off so she could take the lead. She waited until the coughing fit had subsided, and Menlo had straightened as best he could. Blood stained his lips as he sneered directly at her.
"Why would my mother send me to find you? A hateful, spiteful angel that goes against every tenant that God teaches?" Kayla's voice was so small compared to the monumental task before her, but she picked up strength as she carried on. "Why did she think you had the answers to my questions?"
Menlo's face screwed up as he resisted answering her. But the spell woven into the circle, and the heat of the holy oil against his face worked its magical way inside him, and loosened his tongue. "Because your father and I were cut from the same cloth... two of twelve to be given full pardons, our full duties back.." He rubbed the left side of his chest as he spoke. "Twelve of two hundred to bear the mark of His mercy..." Pulling the collar of his oversized shirt down, he revealed a scar spanning his entire pectoral muscle, in the shape of a large, five-fingered hand.
Kayla, frowning, pressed forward, standing within inches of the holy fire. Sweat beaded on her brow from the flames, but she had to know, she absolutely had to know. "What was his name? My father... His real name."
Menlo raised his golden-brown eyes to look at her across the flame. "Remiel..."