Chapter 3 - Taken
Gail had needed to do something with herself, so she'd asked Sam if she could borrow his laptop. She was clicking idly away at the moment, but her mind was a million miles away.
It was May now, a month after Paul and Linda's wedding and Chuck's murder. On the surface, it appeared as if not much had changed. But in this case, appearances were extremely misleading.
Cas and Gabriel were gone again, scouring the ends of the earth for Raguel. Cas had put his foot down, telling Gail to stay in the bunker, where she would be safe. Normally, his heavy-handedness and refusal to accept her help would probably have caused a fight. But Gail had received a wake-up call the night that Raguel had handled her and Paul so easily. This was way above her league. It had taken five of them to bring down Lucifer, and even then, one of the Originals hadn't survived. Actually, two of the good guys, if you counted the fact that they'd temporarily lost Dean. If Gail went out there after Raguel, loaded for bear, she would just be exposing herself to danger, and Cas wouldn't be able to do his job if he was constantly having to worry about her. So even though Gail was itching to avenge Chuck's death, she buttoned her lip and did what she was told, for a change.
But the depression had set in once she'd been sitting around for a while, doing nothing. Contributing nothing. Cas came back every once in a while with a report, but he was in soldier mode most of the time, and Gail felt too depressed to try to joke him out of it. Besides, she wanted him focused. They needed to find Raguel, before he popped up again and killed another one of them, like the world's deadliest gopher, or something. There had been no need for him to kill Chuck. None. Raguel had already taken Chuck's Grace. He could have left him alive. Chuck would have been a human, but, so what? They had all been humans, at some point. At least he could have kept on living. What the hell gave Raguel the right the decide that Chuck didn't deserve to live? Who did Raguel think he was?
Well, they pretty much knew the answer to THAT now, didn't they? Raguel thought that he was God, or at least, that he SHOULD be. That was why he wanted the Book of Life so badly. But, what did that have to do with killing Chuck? Gail had no idea.
They'd had a somber state funeral in Heaven for Chuck, after the dust had settled. As a Prophet of the Lord, according to Heaven's rules, he was entitled to that. The fact that he'd been a human when he had died was irrelevant, Bobby had stated, and anybody who said otherwise could take a flying leap. Bobby was God, and he made the decisions. A few tongues wagged, especially among the longer-serving Angels, but nothing came of it in the end. Bobby'd been hoping that Chuck would turn up in the Garden, but he had not. Probably that was because he had been an occupant of Hell, and he had done some bad things even when he'd been a human, before that. But after he'd been given a second chance, Chuck had turned out to be an exemplary individual. A good friend. A family member. So, that begged the question: how much reformation was enough? Who decided these things, anyway? Because it sure as hell wasn't him, Bobby fumed. Maybe the original God didn't like the fact that His banishment of Chuck down to Hell had been reversed. But then, if that was what was gonna happen, why should anybody ever try to better themselves, if they had no hope of atoning for their past misdeeds to God's satisfaction? Maybe they should all just run around behaving like giant dicks, then, if that was the way that things worked. A tiny part of Bobby had wanted to call Crowley, just to test out the theory. See if Chuck was back in Hell, now. But then he decided he really didn't want to know. If Chuck was there, Crowley would probably taunt them with relish about that fact anyway, the next time any of them saw him. Which would hopefully not be for a while.
After Chuck's body was interred in Heaven, there was a memorial service for him on Earth. Liz and Karen had made all the arrangements. Hester had been unable to attend the funeral in Heaven, of course, so they had wanted to be sure that she was able to say her goodbyes to Chuck, too. She didn't care about his body, she'd told them. Hester agreed that it belonged in Heaven, because he had died a hero, protecting his friends and fellow Angels. Of course he should have a state funeral there. She was heartbroken, but she was also proud of him. Hester remembered the conversation that she and Cas had had at Christmas about whether Cas truly believed that Chuck had reformed, and renounced his old ways. Well, the manner of and circumstances surrounding his death were a clear signal to Hester that he had, and she was slowly but surely making her peace with his death as a result.
Everyone had gotten up and told funny and endearing stories about Chuck. Chuck the librarian, coming up with Heaven's version of the Yellow Pages. Chuck the friend, quietly popping down to visit Jody, or to offer to run errands for Frank. Many of the people in their circle hadn't even known about that. And when Frank had thanked him, Chuck had just shrugged, saying that was what family did for each other. Chuck, the scriptwriter. Richard had told them all a story about how passionate Chuck had been when he had pitched the idea of having Jody's struggle with breast cancer included in the new film. Many of the studio people thought the storyline was too much of a "downer". What did that have to do with hunting monsters, or saving people? Chuck had felt like tearing his hair right out of his head when they had said that, but he had tried to remain calm as he had explained that there was a lot more to the Supernatural franchise than ghosts and vampires. It was about family, persistence, love, and life. Monsters came in many different forms, and so did battles. Were they aware that the vast majority of their demographic were women? Who among them didn't believe that some of those women might screw up the courage to go for those mammograms they'd been putting off, because Jody Mills had done it? Didn't they want to send the message that women could do battle on many different fronts, and kick ass, even when things were at their bleakest?
There hadn't been a dry eye in the house when Richard had sat down following that story, and Laurel had stood up and thanked him for it. Ordinarily, this was when Frank would have come to the rescue by standing up and telling some bad jokes, but Frank had been too overwhelmed following that story to do anything but frown. So Ethan had gotten up instead, and then so had Kevin, and they had told a few stories about Chuck that people had never heard before. They tried to keep them a bit more on the lighthearted side, eliciting a few laughs from the attendees. But their hearts were heavy, as were everyone's.
After the memorial service, they had all gone back to the bunker to have some drinks. Even Frank put in an appearance, though he didn't stay long. The reason that Richard's speech at Chuck's memorial had been especially powerful was because, after fighting so hard for so long, Jody was on the verge of losing her battle. How much more heartache could they all take?
That didn't seem to matter, Gail thought, as she stared unseeingly at the computer screen. Because, as often happened in situations like these, different family members reacted differently to these types of situations. Cas and Gabriel were men of passion and action, so they had thrown all their energies into finding Raguel, and figuring out a way to kill him. They had gone to see Leah, and asked her to quiz her fellow residents. They had Kevin and Emma working practically 24/7, trying to find anything from the Tablet writings, or the Texts, or the Utterances, that might help. Paul and Linda had abandoned their honeymoon and were currently combing through all the books in Heaven's library, and Gail had volunteered to go through the library at the bunker, yet again, to see if there was anything they had missed the first fourteen times they'd done it, she thought dryly. If she had to be stuck there anyway, she might as well at least appear to be doing something constructive. At times, she'd almost had to look down and make sure she wasn't in a wheelchair, and little Robbie wasn't going to come flying around the corner and jump in her lap. She smiled briefly, but then that thought made her feel bad again, because back then poor Rob had already lost one mother, and he was about to lose another.
Sam and Dean had fought when Dean told his younger brother he wanted to go back on the road, because Sam had refused to go. He wanted to spend some time with Brian, he'd told Dean, and he wanted to stay nearby, in case Frank needed his help for anything. Dean had said that was b.s., that Frank had Bobby and a whole bunch of Angels at his beck and call, and so would Sam and Dean, if their presence was suddenly required at home. And as for Brian, he was just a baby. He wouldn't know the difference. Sam was just a fifteen-foot-tall blob with hair to the kid right now. Then Sam's jaw had set stubbornly, and he'd said that if Dean wanted to go Hunting so bad, he should take Rob and Eric with him. There was safety in numbers, and Jody had told the boys to quit hovering over her. Besides, Sam could help Gail with some research.
Dean had been angry, but Sam had been resolute. So now, Dean and Rob and Eric were off Hunting somewhere, and so were Cas and Gabriel, and every time Gail caught Becky looking at her, Becky was giving her the stink-eye.
Becky was pissed. This all would have been so perfect if Gail wasn't here. She and Sam could finally be alone to bond with each other over their baby. Not only that, but since Brian was just a baby, if he wasn't being fed, burped, or diapered, he was pretty much just laying there in his crib. She and Sam would have had a lot of great domestic time together to talk, and make meals, and...
Yeah? And how does Sam stand on eating live animals and drinking their blood, anyway? the little voice in her head said. But Becky silenced that voice immediately. Never mind that. What she needed was a way to get rid of Gail.
Brian was in his bassinet on the library room table now. Becky was eating lunch, Sam was reading, and Gail was still staring at the computer screen. Sam smiled thinly. "Are you going to use the computer, or just stare at the screen saver all day?"
Gail looked at him expressionlessly. "Why? Did you want to use it?" she asked him.
"No, I just..." he started to say, and then he gave up.
"Sam, I just don't know what I'm supposed to do," Gail said, frustrated. "We've been through everything a million times. I need to do something productive here, or I'll go nuts. I'm worried Cas and Gabriel won't find Raguel. Or, I'm worried they WILL."
Sam put the book down and looked at her with such compassion that Becky's hand tightened on her fork until her knuckles were white. "I know something you can do," the younger Winchester said to Gail. "You can look at the stuff that Abigail gave us, and winnow down the list. You've got the list of the ones who were in the compound - sorry, - and you've got the names that Rob gave you, right? I know that has nothing to do with finding Raguel, but at least it's something constructive to do, on another front."
Gail sighed. She supposed he had a point. They'd been meaning to put together a master list of Vincent's offspring, and they had also discussed trying to figure out which of them Benoit and Dr. Roarke had taken, and what "talents" they had. With everything else that had been going on, that aspect of the whole thing had kind of gotten swept under the rug of crap that was their lives right now. But Gail realized that they'd better get a little more proactive about that, too. Otherwise, Vincent was just going to pop up one day like an evil jack-in-the-box, just like Raguel had, and who knew what HE would do?
So Gail pushed her chair back and got up, moving to go and get the list from the box in the storeroom, and an instant later, the bookcase behind where she'd been sitting fell down with a crash. Fortunately, it wasn't a tall piece of furniture, but it was heavy. If she hadn't moved as quickly as she had, she might very well have been knocked into next week by the thing, at the very least.
Gail let out a cry of surprise, and Sam jumped to his feet. "Holy crap!" he exclaimed, looking at Gail and Becky. Brian was laying in the bassinet beside Becky, and since the bookshelf hadn't hit the table, the baby was undisturbed. But, it was peculiar: he was waving his arms and kicking his little legs wildly. The noise must have scared him, Sam reasoned.
Becky was already on it. She took Brian out of the bassinet and held him, bouncing him up and down. But he didn't seem upset to her. He didn't cry. He didn't even fuss. He just looked at her with those dark eyes of his.
She continued to bounce him gently. It was too bad that bookshelf hadn't been a little bit taller, Becky thought. Then Sam could have called Cas to come and mop Gail's brains up from the floor, and then maybe, just maybe, Gail would finally...just...go...away.
Incredibly, Brian laughed. "Oh, my God, Sam!" Becky exclaimed. "Did you see that?"
But Sam hadn't, because he was already on the other side of the table, checking all the bookcases to make sure they were anchored. He put his hand on Gail's arm. "I'm sorry. I don't know what happened," he told her. "I'm gonna get the tools out, and make sure this whole thing's secure. Maybe you should take my laptop and go into the kitchen for the time being, just to be on the safe side."
"What about me and Brian?" Becky said, pouting a little.
Sam shrugged. "You're fine where you are. There aren't any bookcases down at that end. But, it's up to you."
Becky's lips tightened. He was right, but she was the mother of his baby, and she was holding his son right now, and if he didn't get his arm the hell off of Gail, Becky was going to -
Sam removed his hand from Gail's arm, and his Angel friend grabbed the laptop and left the library area. And Baby Brian smiled.
Raguel was growing impatient. It had been a month since they had struck up their deal, and Patricia still hadn't kept her end of the bargain.
"It's a little more complicated than that," she told him irritably. "Bobby's receptionist, Laurel, is sitting right in front of the cabinet where the red files are kept."
"Why don't you just wait until she leaves, then?" the Archangel asked, puzzled.
Patricia pursed her lips together. She was trying not to antagonize the man, but honestly, did he think that SHE was the idiot, here? "Because she never does!" she exclaimed. "She is a widow now, because you killed her husband. From what I have seen, she works both day and night. And if by some miracle she were called away from her post, Bobby is almost always there, too. Or Castiel, or Gabriel."
"What would THEY be doing there?" he asked warily.
Really? He couldn't figure that out? Patricia was beginning to see why Raguel worked alone.
"They're attempting to use Heavenly means to look for you," she said to him, as if speaking to a child. "How effective is your cloaking? I don't want you bringing them down on me. If they find me, they'll throw me in Heaven's prison."
"Don't you concern yourself with that," he said off-handedly.
Sure. That was easy for him to say, Patricia thought resentfully. He was an Archangel. She had the Grace of a mere Prophet.
Raguel was looking at her coolly now. "You know, if you are not happy with our arrangement, I can always take the Grace back," he said. "I was under the impression that you wanted to assist me in restoring Heaven to its former glory. If that is not the case, you can continue to live your meagre existence here on Earth. When I take Heaven, perhaps I will spare you."
Patricia froze. She could tell he meant it, too. The trouble was, she didn't have the power to challenge him, at least not right now. A part of her wondered if he had chosen a lesser Angel for just that reason. But she forced herself to bow her head. "My apologies," she said in a subdued tone. "I do not mean to seem ungrateful. On the contrary. I owe you a debt of gratitude for restoring me to the status of an Angel, and I fully intend to follow through on our agreement. But I will be unable to be of service to you from a jail cell. I think we will have to wait until their next gathering on Earth, one that they will all attend. That way, my way will be clear."
"You know, there is another alternative," Raguel said calmly.
"What is that?" she inquired.
He took his blade out and laid it on the table.
Cas was fuming. He was pacing back and forth in his office, and Gabriel had been watching him for a couple of minutes, letting him blow off some steam. But his Brother showed no signs of slowing down, and Gabe was getting dizzy.
"Admit it, Cas. We've run out of ideas," Gabriel said. Cas stopped and looked at him. "That is unacceptable to me," Cas said, tight-lipped. His Brother always lapsed into AngelSpeak when he was like this.
Gabriel shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Raguel doesn't give a rat's patootie about what's 'acceptable' to you. I think it's high time we stopped kidding ourselves. How bad do you want this guy?"
The sharklike glint appeared in Cas's eyes. "Raguel tried to make me hurt Gail, and he very nearly succeeded in doing it. Because of his actions, she spent time in Hell. It was only due to her indomitable spirit that I am standing here today. Raguel killed Chuck, for absolutely no reason. He did not kill Chuck to take his Grace. He already had it. He killed Chuck to spite us. Pure and simple. I want him, Gabriel."
"Well, in that case, you know what we have to do, don't you?" Gabriel said calmly. "If we can't find him by legitimate means, we'll have to find him by illegitimate ones."
Cas's lips were pursed so tightly together now that they almost disappeared. And things had been going so well, too. He hated to admit it, but Gabriel was right. The only question was, what was Crowley going to want in return?
"No. I don't want to kill Laurel," Patricia said to Raguel.
"Really? So, you were willing to drug Castiel into insanity and deny him due process, but you are unwilling to dispatch a mere receptionist in order to achieve an idyllic future?" the Archangel said bluntly.
Patricia closed her fists under the table. How DARE he speak about her as if she was a common thug? He had no idea what she had been through. None. "Don't you think that Bobby Singer might be just a little bit perturbed to find a dead receptionist right outside his office? Not to mention the fact that I will have to open the cabinet and rifle through all the files until I find the right one. By the time I did that, the cuffs would be on and I would be in prison, without the file, facing a life sentence. Unless Castiel could convince Bobby to invoke the death penalty, of course. If you know so much about me, you know that the two of them conspired to send me to that mental institution and rob me of my Grace, in the first place. Do I seem insane to you?"
Raguel frowned, but he had to admit that she did not. He supposed she had a point. There was no sense sending her in there as a sneak thief if she ended up getting caught.
"All right. We will bide our time, then," he said reluctantly.
Gail had been working on the list for a while, and she was fairly certain she had it narrowed down to 42 individuals, 8 of whom were likely in Europe, doing Lord only knew what. Rob had been receiving flashes of first names in connection with Benoit, and she was pretty sure she had those ones isolated now. They were all young adults except for Jerry, who was a small child. But Gail was wavering about that one, because the child was black. They all knew what kind of a vile man Benoit was. Would he really have taken a child of colour? She reviewed the so-called "talents" of each of them, to see how much of a threat they might be. The results were inconclusive. These files were a lot more comprehensive than the ones they'd looked at before, but the information on the abilities of each person was lacking in detail. For the most part, Gail had found that the older the subject, the more well-developed their abilities seemed to be. But in some cases, it had also seemed that they had barely scratched the surface during the testing. If Benoit had taken the ones he had deemed to have the most potential, the idea of what they could be capable of scared her.
So, assuming that 8 had gone to Europe, that left 34 surviving "children", although most of them were adults of varying ages. That included Rob, Eric, Gail herself, and also JD, who had not died in the compound, but at the end of Gail's knife. That left 30, and Gail knew of one more: Vincent and Placida's original son, Raymond, who belonged to a Christian church somewhere in the Southern U.S. When it came time to locate the offspring, in most cases they had names, approximate ages, and last-known locations. And, in some cases, they even had photos. Gail scanned the 29 remaining files, to see if any of the faces were in any way familiar to her.
She felt a jolt. There WAS one face she recognized! Holy moly. What an amazing coincidence. You couldn't write something like this in a book or a movie, because no one would ever believe it. Then her heart sank. She wished she hadn't thought that. The pain from Chuck's death was still so fresh. She should find out how Laurel was doing. At last report, Chuck's widow spent almost all of her time working. But far be it from Gail to tell someone else how to grieve. She herself had been borderline certifiable when Cas had died. Both times. If Laurel found that it helped her to throw herself into her work, who was Gail to say she shouldn't? Look what Gail was doing right now.
She got up from the table and rushed down the hall. About halfway down to the library, she spotted Sam in the weapons room. He had the cabinet open, and he was doing a quick inventory. Dean had called, wanting to know how many silver bullets they had. He and the boys had just used a bunch. Now they were on their way to Eugene, Oregon, to check on some mysterious disappearances there.
"You'll be glad to know I reinforced the bookshelves," Sam told her. "I still don't know how that happened. But it would take a significant seismic event to dislodge them now."
Gail smiled. "I like how you aren't afraid to use words of more than one syllable around me."
"That's because I know YOU know what they mean," Sam replied with a grin.
"You're never going to guess who I think I recognize on the computer," Gail told him.
"Well, with those lack of specifics, I'm sure you're right," Sam said affably.
"Are you done here? I want to show you, and see if you agree with me. The name on the file is different, so I want to make sure I'm not imagining the resemblance," Gail said.
"OK; now I'm intrigued," Sam remarked. "Hold on. Just let me lock up here." He closed the cabinet and put the padlock on. It snapped closed, and he gave it a tug, just to make sure. Then he put the key in his pants pocket. "Lead on, Macduff."
They headed off to the kitchen, and a moment later, Becky emerged from the next room. She was livid. She'd taken Brian to her room for his nap, and she had been coming down the hall to bring her dishes to the kitchen. Then she'd heard the two of them talking, and she'd ducked into the next room to listen.
They were so mean. They were joking around about how stupid Becky was. Well, she wasn't so stupid that she didn't know when she was being insulted. How dare they talk about her behind her back like that? SHE was the mother of Sam's child, not Gail, but Gail was a shameless bitch. Cas was out there doing his Heavenly duty, and Gail was just hanging around here, being in the way. Couldn't that woman survive for more than five minutes without having some man's attention focused on her? Well, she wasn't getting Sam's. Becky had worked too long and too hard to worm her way into Sam's life.
But what was Becky supposed to do about it? She wished she had Vincent's phone number. He could probably give her some good advice. But, he was gone. She walked slowly back to her room and sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Brian in his crib. He was her only friend, now. Was it any wonder she wanted to be with him all the time? She poured her heart out to him, and he looked at her like he understood every word that she was saying.
"Gail wants to take everything away from me," Becky told Brian. "She hates me, and she hates you, too. If she had her way, we'd both be dead. No wonder her own father hates her. Vincent knows what a scheming little tramp she is. Well, I wish Vincent was here, right now. He'd tell me what to do about her."
And then two things happened, simultaneously. They were horrible, impossible, exhilarating things. Brian's eyes, which had been drooping in preparation for his nap, snapped wide open, and he said, "Vincent".
And the padlock on the weapons cabinet unlocked itself, clattering to the floor.
Bobby had finally been able to persuade Laurel to take a short break, and she went back to her and Chuck's little apartment in Heaven, because she didn't know what else to do. There were a few things that she should be doing there anyway, things that she had been putting off, because everything there reminded her of Chuck.
Following their honeymoon in Niagara Falls, they had moved his things here, into her apartment. He'd made overnight visits to her place before, of course, and she to his, prior to their wedding. She wasn't THAT old-fashioned. But she'd been old-fashioned enough to want to live apart until their wedding night, so it would seem more special.
Because they were Angels, naturally, there was no prospect of having children. But Laurel had wanted the two of them to get a house together, anyway. Chuck should have a writing room, at the very least. Since Laurel had worked long hours for God, she hadn't needed much in the way of living quarters. But she'd told Chuck she wanted to take a leaf out of Cas's book and try keeping a small garden in the back yard of their prospective home. One signature legacy of Cas's term in the High Office had been the introduction of simulations of nature in Heaven. Prior to Cas's influence, Heaven had always been a sterile, mostly white, industrial sort of environment, with lots of offices for work, and little else. But then he and Gail had introduced laughter, love, and colour, and things had blossomed from there. A ball diamond, a school, a sparkling, pristine lake behind Bobby's cabin to fish in, and house gardens for those individuals who had green thumbs. Nanette and Henri kept gardens now, and Milo and Ethan had both gone to Bobby's cabin to try their hands at fishing.
Laurel wept silent tears as she stood in the bedroom of the apartment, thinking about all of that. Chuck had said that he was just fine with whatever she wanted to do, saying they would talk about it some more after Paul and Linda's wedding. But now that Laurel thought about it, there had really been no need for them to wait. They could have moved immediately, if they'd wanted to. Heaven was Heaven, and things worked differently there. You didn't have to hire movers, and get your damage deposit back. If you wanted a house, you just asked whoever was God at the time, and God would provide. Chuck must have known that it would be a moot point. He'd been a damn Prophet, hadn't he?
She looked down at the bed they'd shared, and suddenly, Laurel was overcome with rage. Why? Why? Kevin was a Prophet, too, and Paul had been a full-fledged Demon, who had aided and abetted Lucifer. Why had the Father demanded this sacrifice of Chuck? Yes, he hadn't been perfect, but he had made himself into a good man. They had just gotten married. They were going to begin a life together. Laurel had known that Chuck wasn't perfect. Of course she had. But, who was? Castiel was a murderer, many times over. Gabriel was a Lothario, a drunken ne'er-do-well. Just because he was with Liz right now didn't mean he was a boy scout. Even Bobby. He had once been married to Rowena, the King of Hell's mother, and Crowley was Gail's brother. Laurel could go on and on. There were much higher-ranking Angels than Chuck who enjoyed God's favour, and they had done much worse.
Why Chuck? And, why Laurel, for that matter? She had served the High Office for years, loyal and faithful to whoever the apparent revolving door of the Office had settled on. Why had the Father allowed Laurel to drop her guard enough to finally fall in love, only to pull the rug out from underneath her so cruelly?
She grabbed the bedsheets with both hands, tearing them off the bed. She and Chuck had made love here the morning of Paul and Linda's wedding, joking that they'd better not be late because they'd heard that the Korean ceremony was very short. Chuck had been so loving, so tender...She flung the pillows across the room. In a minute, she was going to get some matches and burn it all down, just like the Father had done to her, and her hopes.
A white envelope lay on the bare mattress, where the pillows had been. What? Laurel leaned down to pick it up. "My Dearest Laurel" was written on the front. She sank slowly down to sit on the edge of the bed, staring at it, open-mouthed. This hadn't been here before. She knew it hadn't, because she'd made the bed herself the night before Paul and Linda's wedding. She let out a sob. Chuck must have slipped it under the pillows, for her to find after...
She tore it open. Chuck had written:
"My Dearest Darling Laurel,
"I hope you won't mind the Cas-and-Gail verbiage there, just for a moment. I know we all tease them quite a bit, but we also know that we all want to be that lucky, don't we? And we were, Laurel. We truly were.
"But, by the time you read this letter, I'll be dead. A while back, I received a series of Prophecies, which are written down in the enclosed envelope. Please deliver it to Cas, and only Cas. He'll know what to do with it. Tell him I'm sorry that most of them are so vague, but such is the gift, and the curse, of Prophecy.
"The only specific and detailed Prophecy I received, maybe fittingly enough, was the one that concerned my own death. I didn't know exactly where or when it was going to happen, not at first. But, I was shown that Raguel was going to take my Grace, and then kill me. It was unavoidable. If it hadn't been me, then it would have been Paul, or Gail. Or Bobby, Or you. All I knew was that I was going to be the one who had to sacrifice myself, so that he didn't kill one of you.
"I had so much to atone for, Laurel. So much. Years ago, when I was a human, I lied, cheated, and stole. Ask Hester. There was a reason we were estranged for all those years. I was a Class-A, card-carrying dick. I used to resort to fraud and various other schemes to get money, because I was too lazy to work for it, like everybody else does. I used to justify that by saying that we grew up really poor. Waaah, waaah, waaah. Poor Chuck. But that excuse didn't cut it, because many other people grow up poor, too. What made me think that there was anything special about me, or my circumstance? Did the world owe me a living, just because I'd happened to be born into it? No, of course not. But did I act like it did, anyway? Absolutely.
"Then I had the inspiration to write the first Supernatural book, and gradually, that changed my whole life. But it was funny, really. Here I was, thinking that I was 'all that and a bag of chips', as people used to say, because I had done something creative, something people actually enjoyed. I thought I had made up Sam and Dean Winchester in my head. They had issues with their parents, because I'd had issues with mine. They were always broke, and sleeping in cheap motels too, because, well, duh. Dean was promiscuous, and they both drank a lot. Hell-oooo. The only aspect I thought I'd made up from whole cloth was the supernatural angle. Ghosts, vampires, other assorted monsters. But any shrink worth his or her salt will tell you that the Demons and monsters that the brothers ran around killing were mine. All well and good, until you realize that there's an endless pit of monsters. Try as Sam and Dean might, they would never be able to eradicate them all. In fact, it could be persuasively argued that now, there were even more. My books started getting me money, and attention. Lots and lots of attention. I wish I could tell you that I didn't take women to bed just because they said they liked my books. I really wish I could tell you that. But I'd be lying, and we both know it. I guess you could argue that those women used me too, but I should have been a decent human being about it. Instead, I became conceited beyond measure, obsessed with my own literary genius. Yeah, I know, right?
"It got even worse. When I found out that Sam and Dean were real people and not just figments of my fertile imagination, you would think that would have slowed my roll, wouldn't you? But that gave me even more of an inflated sense of self-importance. I found out that I was an actual Prophet of the Lord, a seer of things that were to come. Wow. Imagine how heady that felt. I, and I alone, would determine the direction which those boys' lives took. Me. A guy who couldn't even run his own life. What the hell was whoever was in charge of this stuff thinking? So I started putting them into increasingly more bizarre and dangerous situations, just because I was wondering how on earth they were going to get out of them. Then I introduced Cas, and the Angels and Demons, and things just sort of snowballed from there. They weren't happy about it, but that was just too bad. I was only doing what God wanted me to, I told them. What the hell did I care if they were suffering, and losing their loved ones? I was getting paid, wasn't I? Plenty of money, to buy booze and cheap hookers. Actually, some of them weren't so cheap. When I became more successful, I hired call girls who would come over and abuse and degrade me, because deep down, I knew that was what I really deserved.
"This went on for a while, until finally, something had to give. The Winchesters and Cas ended up averting the Apocalypse. The books were supposed to end there. Sam was supposed to fall into the pits of Hell, Dean was supposed to be brought to despair trying to save him, and Cas was going to go back to Heaven, secure in the knowledge that he had done the right thing. Bobby was going to drink himself to death within a year from that day, and eventually Dean was going to get married and have kids. He would tell his boys about their Uncles Sam and Bobby when they got old enough to understand, and warn them that Angels were dicks, although there was one blue-eyed, trenchcoat-wearing one that wasn't half bad, he would say, with a faraway look in his eyes. The kids would grow up in an idyllic world, never knowing anything about monsters, or killing, or hate. "Well, that was the way that things were supposed to go, anyway. But since when does that ever happen, right? The boys busted me. They saw through my whole charade. Prophet of the Lord, my ass. More like Prophet of my own ego. Is it any coincidence that 'Prophet' and 'profit' sound the same? I think not. Well, not in my case, anyway.
"So then, having outlived my usefulness to Him on Earth, God the Father brought me home. Shouldn't that have been my wake-up call, right there?
"But, no. Of course not. Guys like I was back then are never satisfied. God screwed me. That was the way I looked at it. He brought me to fame and fortune, and then He snuffed out my young life before I had the chance to really enjoy any of it. How was that fair?
"So I resented, God, and Heaven, and the Angels, and everybody, and everything. All the so-called bad stuff that had ever happened to me was everybody else's fault but mine. I was God's Prophet, but He couldn't even look me in the eye most of the time. He knew what kind of individual I still was. Even though I was in Heaven, my thoughts were dark and twisted. I wanted revenge.
"Cas got caught in the crosshairs, mainly because he was everything I wasn't: tall, handsome, brave, strong. Honourable. Loved by God. He walked around Heaven like he was the Crown Prince, or something. And the last straw was when I saw that he'd been given a cute little Angel girlfriend. Where was mine? I had helped avert the Apocalypse too, in a way, hadn't I?
"So I began to conspire with Metatron, and I manipulated poor lovesick Aurielle like she was some kind of wind-up doll, programmed to kill on demand. I knew what both of them were capable of. Of course I did. I have no excuses.
"And you know the rest. Well, most of it, anyway. There's not much left to confess to. You name the Sin, I committed it. You name the Commandment, I broke it. I laid with Rowena in Paris, when I was supposed to be a good guy, and let her do painful and degrading things to me while she was corrupting me to be her blunt instrument. I used my gift as a Prophet to be the worst sort of voyeur imaginable, when I spied on Cas and Gail's intimacies in the bedroom, and I coveted them both at one point. I came very close to actually crossing that line, when I was alone with Gail in the library, and Rowena's spell was swimming in my veins. But once again, I make no excuses for myself. A sculptor makes the statue, but he or she still has to start with raw clay, right? If I hadn't had those impulses in me to begin with, there would've been nothing to bring out.
"But, despite all of that, I was allowed to stay in Heaven, and stay an Angel. I had no idea why, up until this last little while. But now, I do. God was waiting for the right time.
"But, before He took me for good this time, He showed me the ultimate mercy and gave me you, if only for a short time. In the olden days, I might very well have been bitter about that too, saying he was being extra-cruel in allowing us to find each other and then taking everything away from us just as quickly. But I'm not that guy any more, Laurel. I swear I'm not. I'm going to go to my grave thanking Him, instead. The love you gave me was good, and pure, and I certainly didn't deserve it. But, when I close my eyes for the last time, it'll be you and that love that I'll remember most of all. And most of all, I'll remember what an honour and a privilege it was for me to call myself your husband.
"With My Eternal Love And Gratitude,
Chuck."
Laurel sat there staring at the letter in her hands, weeping silently. She'd had no idea it was possible to cry this many tears. Then she sniffled, looking in the envelope for the other envelope that Chuck had referred to. There it was; another, smaller white envelope. It was sealed. She was supposed to give it to Cas. SHOULD she? Didn't she have the right to know what was in it? Did she even WANT to know what was in it?
"That's Aggie. Agnes Bidwell," Sam said, looking at the picture on the screen. "Her hair is lighter here, and the name is different, but I'm sure it's her."
"Yeah, that's what I thought," Gail said, nodding vigorously. Then she let out a breath. "Aggie's my sister, Sam. Or my half-sister, I guess. Wow. That's pretty freaky." Then she smiled. "I guess she got all the height in the family." There was a pause. "So what are we supposed to DO with this information?" Gail asked her friend.
Sam sat back from the computer, musing. "You know, this could be some kind of a sign," he said slowly. "She's a detective, isn't she? Maybe she can help us. She already knows about our situation. Maybe we need to have a bit more of a conversation with her, about Vincent."
Gail shrugged. "Yeah, maybe. Too bad Cas is so busy looking for Raguel. I could have him pop us over there."
"What do you need HIM for?" Sam said jokingly. "Are your wings in the shop?"
Gail lifted an eyebrow. "With the kind of mood he's been in recently, do you really think it's a good idea for me to just pop out of here, when he specifically told me to stay put?"
"Since when are you so obedient?" Sam asked her bluntly.
Gail sighed. "Since Chuck. Since I realized I'm not as strong as I think I am, sometimes. Since I remembered that guys like Raguel aren't playing games. I don't want anybody else getting hurt, Sam. I'm not being 'obedient', I'm scared. What if Cas does find Raguel? What if we were to find Vincent? Then, what? Are we just going to sit them down and ask them nicely not to be so evil? To please, please just leave us alone?"
Sam could see her point. The reason their enemies had eluded them for so long was because they were formidable, and they didn't care who they had to hurt in order to accomplish what they wanted. But what did Vincent want to accomplish, anyway? They still didn't know. Raguel wanted to find the Book of Life, and if he did, they were all screwed. He wondered if Cas and Gabriel were making any progress on their search.
They were, and they weren't.
Crowley had ended up coming when Castiel and Gabriel had summoned him, simply because he was curious. He thought he had a pretty good idea of what they'd be after, though. The Prophet Chuck was dead, killed by one of his own. Wasn't that just too bad. Crowley and his kind had been leaving the Holy Rollers alone, but here they were anyway, down a member. Well, what did they want him to do about it? Mourn? Not too bloody likely. Chuck had been a smarmy little weasel, who'd changed sides so often Crowley was surprised he'd even known which team he was playing for, any more. The King of Hell hadn't completely bought that reformation act of Chuck's. It was funny how the Angels were so willing to just accept that people were capable of that kind of change. Chuck. Aurielle. Paul. Metatron. The list was growing. But, Crowley was skeptical. Sure, you could play both sides, if you needed to. He himself often had, depending upon what suited him best at the time. But a leopard that changed its spots to stripes was just a tiger, then, wasn't it? People may have bouts of conscience from time to time, or dabble in wickedness if they were inherently good. But when it came right down to it, their nature was their nature.
Like his "Brothers", here. The instant Crowley had seen Castiel, the King knew that he was on the verge of a full-blown temper tantrum. Cas had lost yet another one of his charges, and he was looking for payback. Well, it was his own fault, wasn't it? Castiel had had that jawbone right in his hands, and he'd let Metatron nick it. That whole thing was still puzzling to Crowley. Like many of the principals involved in the Saqqaran saga, Crowley wondered why on earth Metatron would have taken the jawbone, if he hadn't intended to use it. Metatron was dead now, but where the hell was the bloody jawbone?
"What's new, gentlemen? How is everyone? Well, I trust?" Crowley said, trying not to smirk too widely. He peered at Gabriel. "You're looking a little tired, Gabriel. Is monogamy wearing you out? Why don't you save that poor girl a lot of heartache and just let her down easily now?" Then he looked at Cas. "I see you've got my sister on lockdown. That's probably wise. You're already down a Prophet, and from what I hear, you're going to be down a Hunter soon, too." He paused. "Actually, I take that back. I always respected Jody. That's going to be a shame. Especially when there are so many other, worthier candidates for the grave."
"Be quiet about that," Cas said sharply. "We're here to talk about business. Nothing more."
"Fair enough," Crowley said calmly. "Let me cut to the chase, then. You want me to facilitate a meeting with my mother, so that she will remove the cloaking spell she put on Raguel. Right?"
"Correct," Cas said tersely.
Crowley stroked his beard. "Interesting. Interesting. Now, what makes you think I know where my mother is? If I did, don't you think she'd be dead by now?"
"We know you can't kill her," Gabriel said.
Crowley inclined his head in acknowledgement. That was, unfortunately, true. Once someone used Rowena's revival spell to bring someone else back from the dead, it benefitted the caster of the spell nearly as much as it did the lucky recipient, because the recipient would then be unable to kill their benefactor. It was just the way the spell worked. So, because his mother had once brought Crowley back from the dead in a hot moment of sentiment, he was physically incapable of killing his mother. Just as Dean would be incapable of killing Gail, were it ever to come to that. Not that there would be any reason for Dean to want to kill Gail. After all, he wasn't married to her any more. Crowley smiled at that thought. Too bad Gail wasn't here; he could have gotten her good with that one.
"What are you smiling about?" Castiel growled.
"I'm just wondering what favour I should get you to perform for me, if I agree to help you with your request," Crowley said idly. "Can you juggle, Cas? Actually, never mind. I know you can. You've been doing it for years. So many deceptions, so little time. And you, Gabriel? What kind of favour could YOU do for me? Nothing I'd really want, I'm sure."
"Let's go, Cas. He's just yanking our chain," Gabriel said contemptuously.
"Not necessarily," Crowley said, holding up his hand. "It just so happens that I'm considering it. It does me no good to have Raguel running around loose, looking for the Book of Life. If he finds it, he's going to come after me and my Kingdom. Bobby Singer has left me be, because he knows that it's smarter to maintain the status quo. Now that you're not running the show any more - " he sneered at Cas " - I don't have to be on my guard for sudden attacks. But, Raguel? That's a level of religious fanaticism I can certainly do without. But I genuinely don't know where my mother is. She's cloaked, too."
"See? I told you. We're just wasting our time, here," Gabriel said to Cas, frustrated.
"What's your hurry? Late for Happy Hour?" Crowley said dryly, looking at the Archangel. "I didn't say I didn't have a way to try to get her."
Cas was puzzled. "What? You have a way to try to find her? Then why haven't you done it?"
The King nodded. His brother may be insufferable most of the time, but he was also astute. "That's a very logical, reasonable question, Castiel," he remarked. "And the answer is: because I would need your wife to help me do it, and because she comes with a side order of you, I haven't bothered."
Gabriel's lips twitched, for a brief moment. He hated Crowley, of course, but he had to admit, that had been a good one. Just because Gabriel was supposedly a Hero of Heaven now, that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate a little humour at someone else's expense.
Cas sighed. "Explain."
Crowley's eyes glittered. "As we are both her children, if Gail and I both contribute our blood to an ancient location spell, we should be able to lure our dear mother out of the woodwork."
Cas looked at his brother expressionlessly, but his stomach churned. Of course. It was easy to compartmentalize his emotions when he was on a mission without her, but the bottom line was, through no fault of her own, Gail was indeed the King of Hell's sister, and Rowena's daughter. And now, his poor darling would have to be subjected to another evil family reunion, if they hoped to find Raguel.
"We'll think about it," Cas said, tight-lipped. He vanished without another word, leaving a flummoxed Gabriel standing there with the King. "Well, we'll be seeing you," the Archangel said to Crowley. "Good line about the side order, by the way. I'll slip you five bucks if you tell that one to Gail, when we see you next. Gotta go; it's Happy Hour. Somewhere."
As Gabriel snapped his fingers and disappeared, Crowley smirked again. Yes. Leopards didn't change their spots. They just used those spots for camouflage, when it suited their purposes.
Pleased with his metaphor, Crowley snapped his fingers and disappeared, too.
After hiding her little piece of insurance under the mattress, Becky turned back to look at Brian, uncertainty on her face. What the hell was going on, here? Her baby was less than two months old, and he was talking? No. That couldn't be.
When Brian had said Vincent's name, or at least, when she'd thought she heard him say it, Becky hastily amended, she'd picked him up and looked closely at him. Her son just lay there in her arms, looking at her calmly as he almost always did. But then his little hand had touched her finger, and when that had happened, Becky was suddenly picturing Gail, standing over Brian's crib with her Angel blade clutched in her hand.
"You had this baby under false pretenses," Gail hissed, brandishing the knife. "Sam doesn't want it, and he doesn't want you. He's too tender-hearted to do what needs to be done. But I'm not." Then she began to stab Brian, over and over, until Becky's little son was screaming and screaming...
Becky put Brian back down in his crib. Then she crept down the hallway. She could hear Gail and Sam talking in the kitchen. That hateful, homewrecking bitch. Becky had better defend herself, and her son. Her and Sam's son. Not that Gail cared about that. From the instant Becky had told Sam that she was having his baby, Becky'd had to put up with Gail, scheming behind her back. Trying to turn Sam against her by suggesting that she was faking her pregnancy. Then, when that didn't work, Gail had started in on Becky in other ways, saying she'd probably slept with other guys, and one of them was the father. Luckily, Sam hadn't fallen for that, because both he and Becky had known that Becky had been a virgin when the two of them had slept together. What was Gail going to try next? She wouldn't hurt an innocent little baby, would she? As much as Becky wanted to hate Gail's guts right now, she didn't really believe that she would. Sure, Gail had an acid tongue sometimes and a bit of a mean streak that the men overlooked because she had them all wrapped around her finger, but she wasn't, like, evil, or anything. But then, why was Becky becoming increasingly concerned for her and Brian's safety?
In the end, Becky's maternal instinct won out. She couldn't afford to take the chance. She'd been on her way to the kitchen to see Sam, but she ducked into the weapons room instead, because she'd known what she was going to see there. Brian had shown her, when his tiny hand had touched her finger.
She'd better hurry. She opened the cabinet door, grabbed an Angel blade, and closed it quietly, putting the padlock back on. Then she went back to her and Brian's room, sliding the blade under the mattress on the bed. Just in case.
Cas and Gabriel showed up at the bunker, together, a few minutes later. Gabe had correctly guessed that Cas would head straight there after their meeting with Crowley. If the spell was going to work, there was no sense in delaying its execution. They would still have to figure out how to convince Rowena to help them, somehow. None of the Angels knew, of course, that the witch and the Archangel had washed their hands of each other a while back. If they had, they would probably have tried to contact her a long time ago.
But first, before they'd arrived, Gail had brought Sam's laptop back into the library area and she was still reading the files and looking at the pictures of Vincent's offspring. Now that she looked, really looked closely, she was pretty sure she remembered the ones who Rob said were with Benoit in Europe. What did he plan to do with them? Maybe they should be concentrating on that angle, first. Because the only scenarios her brain had been able to come up with ranged from disturbing, to downright terrifying. They all knew what kind of man Benoit was. They had spent time in his little nest of vipers there in Paris. Lord only knew how many people would have died if Cas hadn't blown up that headquarters. But the group's leader had gotten away, and leopards didn't change their spots, did they? Gail thought, unconsciously mirroring Crowley's thought of a few minutes ago.
Right on cue, the Angels popped in, and Gail rushed over to Cas. "Hi, sweetie! How are you? Is everything all right? Are you OK?" she said anxiously. He nodded, putting his arm around her.
"I'm fine, too, thanks for asking," Gabriel said dryly.
As Gail smiled at him, Cas said, "We have news. There may be a way to locate Raguel. But first, we need your help."
"Mine?" Gail said, and her heart leapt. Finally, she could help. "Just let me go home and get my blade, and - "
"Well, you're close. Just a few letters off," Gabriel quipped.
"Hey guys, how's it going?" Sam said. He was coming out of the hallway with the baby in his arms.
Gabriel approached Sam. "So, this is the little guy I've been hearing so much about," the Archangel said. "Boy, he's small. Or maybe it's just because you're so big. Better start him on the double portions, Sam."
Sam decided to ignore Gabe's lame attempts at humour. "Actually, that's what I was about to do. Feed him," he remarked. "It's time for him to eat, and Becky's sound asleep. Cas, would you mind holding Brian while I go heat up his bottle?"
Mind? Of course he wouldn't mind, Cas thought, stretching out his arms. He loved holding babies. It was kind of funny, though. Every time Cas had held the infant, Brian just looked at him calmly. But whenever Sam had tried to give the baby to Gail, he fussed and fidgeted. Gail had joked that that was yet one more thing that Cas was better at than her, and that she was going to develop a complex soon, if babies kept reacting like that around her. But then Cas had pointed out that the same thing had happened with Angela when she'd been a baby. But Frank's daughter loved her Aunt Gail now. Whenever they went over to Frank's house, Angela would come running into the room, asking if Gail would read stories with her. She would bestow Poochie upon Gail like she was leaving her Aunt in charge of guarding the crown jewels, then run and get a book. Angela pretty much ran everywhere around the house, Frank had advised. It was like she was just so excited to get to her next activity that she felt like she had to hurry. The sad part about that was that the little girl seemed to have picked up on the prevailing emotion in their house right now, which was that they were all running out of time. So she would sit and read with her Aunt Gail and Poochie, but that was sad too, because it should really be Jody who she was reading with. But her mother couldn't even make it downstairs most days now, and even when she managed that Herculean task, she just seemed less present than anyone else, like she was preparing them for the day when she would no longer be there at all. Gail had helped Angela read, joking lightly that she should probably bring Ralph over for a playdate with Poochie, sometime. Then Angela got so excited about the prospect that Gail had ended up bringing Ralph over, telling Angela that she could take care of Gail's penguin friend for now, since Gail had to be away so much. So now, Ralph and Poochie were the best of friends, and they were constantly by Angela's side, like some sort of odd couple honour guard. Frank had hugged his sister so tightly that day she felt like he might have cracked one of her ribs, and Jody had given her hand a gentle squeeze and told Gail she loved her, calling her by name. That was a rare occurrence these days, one that Gail had treasured. All the more so because most of the time, Jody had no idea who she and Cas were any more.
So, Gail bore Brian's apparent mistrust of her stoically. Truthfully, although she had told no one this, she felt a sort of antipathy towards the baby. Brian was Sam's son; therefore, she should feel like he was her nephew, shouldn't she? It wasn't very politically correct to dislike a baby, but Gail just felt uneasy whenever she looked at Brian. He just looked at everybody calmly with those dark eyes, as if...As if what? As if he was planning something? How crazy WAS Gail, anyway? Brian wasn't some cartoon baby plotting world domination, like on that TV show Rob and Eric thought was so funny. Just because Gail didn't approve of the way he had come into the world, that didn't mean there was something wrong with the kid. He couldn't help the fact that his mother was a scheming, manipulative little...Never mind. Brian was probably tuning in to those kinds of thoughts she was having, and that was why she seemed to be his least favourite person. Babies were intuitive that way, weren't they, just like dogs or something? Hoo, boy. She'd better not say THAT out loud.
"Here. I'll take the little tyke," Gabriel said magnanimously, even though Sam had asked Cas, not him. Sam looked at him dubiously for a moment, and then he slid Brian gently into Gabriel's arms.
"Don't worry, I'm great with babies. They love me," Gabe assured him. He started rocking Brian slowly back and forth, and the baby began to smile. "See?" Gabriel said, and now, he was smiling, too. But a moment later, his smile faded, and his face screwed up in an expression of disgust. "Oh, no. No, no, no," Gabriel said, extending the baby for Cas to take. "What are you FEEDING that kid? Burritos?" He began waving his arms, looking down at himself to see if there were any stains on his shirt.
Sam was working his jaw, trying not to laugh out loud. He wondered if Brian was too young for a high-five. "Just taking after his Uncle Dean, I guess," he said, grinning. "Here, I'll change him."
"No, you go ahead and get his bottle," Cas said. "I've got this." He looked at Gail. "Would you mind, my love?" She moved over to the little alcove, where Becky had a box of diapers stashed in the cupboard there. In that overabundance of caution that many new parents seemed to have, Becky kept a box of diapers in or near every room that Brian was ever in. But in this case, Gail praised her forethought, because it meant that they wouldn't have to wait too long to get rid of whatever was in the old diaper at the time. She brought a fresh diaper and a dispenser of baby wipes over to the library table, where Cas had already lain Brian down, on top of his swaddling blanket.
Cas looked up at Gabriel, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Unless you would like to do the honours? You know, because you're so good with babies."
"Nooooo," Gabriel said hastily. "It's all yours, Brother."
"Don't worry. We'll get you all fixed up in no time," Cas said to the baby in a gentle voice. He deftly removed the dirty diaper, looking around for somewhere to put it. "Where does Becky keep the diaper pail?" he asked Gail.
She made a face. How the hell should SHE know? Gail had never changed a diaper, never had she ever, and she didn't ever intend to cross that particular smelly item off her list.
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Here. Allow me," he said dryly. He snapped his fingers, and the dirty diaper disappeared from Cas's hand.
Gail smiled at her Brother. "You need to come around here more often," she told him.
"If that's gonna be the result, no thanks," Gabriel said, gesturing to the area Cas was wiping now. "I like my babies cute, pink, and freshly diapered, if it's all the same to you."
Cas was putting the fresh diaper on Brian now, tickling the baby's tummy. But it was strange; usually when he did that, the infant in question would smile, or wriggle. But Brian just stared. Then he touched Cas's finger with his little fist, and suddenly, Cas was overcome with a wave of emotion. It hadn't been enough, he thought. No matter what he had tried to do, it hadn't been enough. He couldn't save them all. How many deaths were considered an acceptable ratio, in the larger scheme of things? Cas had let them all down. Again. He should just give up, before all was lost.
"Everything OK, Cas?" Sam said, bringing Brian's bottle out from the kitchen.
"What? Oh. Yes. Everything's fine, Sam," Cas replied, dazed.
"Great. Thanks, Cas. I can always count on you," Sam said. He wrapped his son in the blanket and lifted him from the table. "Come on, Brian. Let's get you some lunch," he said softly.
Gail shook her head slowly. It was amazing. Simply amazing. Sam protested whenever Dean put his feet up on the table, stating they sometimes ate there. But Cas had just changed a poopy, smelly diaper on this very same table, and Sam hadn't said a word. Wow. People and their kids.
"Soooo, Cas," Gabriel piped up. "Now that the most dangerous mission is over, do you wanna tell Gail why we really came here?"
Cas's mind was still elsewhere. What had just happened to him? One minute, he had been changing an innocent little baby, and the next? The next, he was being shown all of his past and future failings. The cycle was set to repeat itself now, and, if Cas couldn't figure out how to prevent it soon, they were all doomed. That was what had really been bothering him in Las Vegas. The clouds were gathering fast, now. The process had already begun. Quinn. Chuck. Jody, soon. And then, who would be next? What did his Father WANT from him? Something had to be done...but, what?
But for now, Cas could only do what he could do, and finding Raguel would at least be a start. So he looked at Gail. "We need your blood," he told his wife.
Alice had been watching the woman for a while, and she thought that she was ready to make her move. She had to be extra cautious with this one, because of who and what Detective Bidwell was. Not only did she make her living as a homicide detective in a huge, hot city with a significant murder rate, but she was a psychic, as well. A double threat. This would be a good litmus test for Alice. She had killed four of Vincent's offspring so far, but they had been much easier targets.
However, due to all her research into the world of the occult, Alice also knew that psychic abilities were often a hit-or-miss proposition. Visions seldom came on demand, and even when they did, they were usually jumbled or fragmented, and open for interpretation. Alice couldn't let the special abilities of Vincent's bastards intimidate her. If she did, then what was she even doing, in the first place?
She'd followed Agnes for the better part of three weeks now, and the woman's routine was always the same. Work, home, dinner, bed, work. A couple of times, she'd stopped by a takeout place on her way home, but that was it. She appeared to have nothing that even resembled a social life. Alice had come to the conclusion that Aggie Bidwell was a workaholic. Either that, or she knew her time on this earth was running out, so she wanted to rid the world of as many murderers as she could, before she was gone.
Irony notwithstanding, Alice had wondered briefly if her conscience should be bothering her over what she was doing. Some of Vincent's progeny were decent people, just trying to live their lives. But Alice needed him gone, and so she employed every rationalization in the book to justify what she was doing. Those people were abominations, according to her religious upbringing. Not to put too fine a point on it, but they shouldn't even have come into existence in the first place. Alice was just writing a wrong, and when she was done, a supremely evil being would be eradicated. Alice was on a divine mission. Besides, some of his children were horrible individuals, just as he was. She had killed a telekinetic child of his in Joliet, who'd had all the makings of a serial killer. And there had been that young girl right in Alice's own back yard in Tampa, who'd been so promiscuous she was about two steps away from being a prostitute.
So, Agnes Bidwell had to go. It was too bad, but Alice couldn't let any sort of feelings get in her way. She'd continued to wait and watch, and on the third week, her patience has been rewarded. Aggie had come out of her place and loaded a couple of suitcases into her car, and driven to the beach. She'd parked in front of a beach house, and taken her suitcases inside. Then, a short while afterwards, she had come out the back door, dressed in a bathing suit and carrying a towel. Alice waited, but no one else came out of the house.
A beach house in California? The parade of rationalizations began in Alice's head. Aggie was "on the take", as they said in the movies. She had to be. There was no way she could afford a beach house here, not on a cop's salary.
Actually, Alice was right about that. But, it wasn't Aggie's house. It belonged to her adoptive parents. She used to spend a lot of time here in the summer, when she'd been growing up. Her name had been Judith back then, and her hair had been blonde. Her adoptive dad had been a famous actor, who had appeared in numerous blockbuster movies. At one point, rumours had circulated about a kidnapping ring who were planning to grab the kids of some of the bigger stars and hold them for ransom. So Aggie's dad had changed her name, and her mom had dyed her hair, and they had sent her to a private school that had its own security system, and licensed security personnel. The kidnapping scare had turned out to be much ado about nothing, but Judith had become Agnes Bidwell, a brunette honours student who had admired the men and women at her school whose job it was to protect them. So she had signed up for the Police Academy after graduation, and that had been that.
Her dad mostly directed movies now, and he was on location a lot. He and Aggie's mother were amicably divorced, and they shared the beach house when they were both in town. Aggie still had a key, and her parents encouraged her to use the place any time she wanted to get away from the city and the stresses of her job, for a while.
When Alice saw Agnes come back into the house after having spent a couple of hours on the beach, Eric's mother decided that she had better not wait any longer. The beach house had no close neighbours, and the beach had been relatively deserted. It was still a little too early in the season for all the sun worshippers. Aggie had actually come back to the house because she had been feeling a bit of a chill.
Alice waited just a little bit longer, and then she knocked on the door of the house.
Aggie answered the knock. "Hi," she said in a cautiously friendly tone.
"Hello," Alice said. "I wonder if I could talk to you for a minute. It's about my daughter. She ran away from home, and I think she might have come to this area. She said she wanted to get into the movies, and I'm just afraid that she may have gotten mixed up with the wrong people. Do you mind if I show you a few pictures of her? Maybe you've seen her around."
Oh, man, Aggie thought with a flash of annoyance. She'd come here to unwind, and not think about being a detective for a while. Then she sighed. But this woman looked so worried. Of course Aggie was going to help her, if she could. "Come on in," she said to Alice. "Would you like a glass of iced tea?"
"So, that's it? I haven't seen you in days, and now you come and ask me for some of my blood and tell me you're going to leave again, without me? I don't think so," Gail said to Cas irritably.
"Why should you have to be subjected to those people?" Cas countered in a reasonable tone.
"Shouldn't that be my decision?" she shot back. "Look, Cas, I appreciate what you're trying to do, here. I really do. But I'm a big girl, and I'm going nuts just sitting around here, not contributing anything. I'm getting my blade."
Gail popped out as Cas frowned. He should have known that she would react like that, and he admired her for it. But he felt an overwhelming need to protect her now. The problem was, he couldn't say exactly why. Of course danger was all around them. It always had been. So why especially now?
"I'll be back," Cas said to Gabriel, and then he popped out, too. Gabriel threw his hands up in frustration. Cas was driving him nuts. He looked at Sam, who was still feeding Brian. The kid was drinking warm milk, of course. He was way too young for any kind of solid food, yet. Which made all the more mysterious the fact that he had produced the kind of toxic waste that Gabe had seen and smelled a few minutes ago. Gabriel hadn't really been around much when his own son had been a baby. Not that the murdering little bastard had been one for long.
He bent down to tickle the baby's tummy, like he'd seen Cas do. "Kootchie kootchie koo," Gabriel said to Brian, as Sam looked at him incredulously. Gabriel the Archangel, talking baby talk. And here was Sam, without a witness in sight.
And, just as it had happened with Cas, as soon as Gabriel's finger had touched Baby Brian's little hand, he had his own vision. A young teenage boy, holding Gabriel's blade. Practicing with it, on a mannequin he had stolen from a local department store, from the kids' section. It was up to Joe to kill the Beast, and the Beast was a child, himself.
The blood in Gabriel's vessel ran cold. The Beast was Brian.
"Please don't be angry, Gail," Cas was pleading with his wife.
She had popped over to their house to get her Angel blade from the dresser in the bedroom. There had been no need for her to have it at the bunker. But if Cas and Gabriel were going to see Crowley, track Rowena down, and potentially confront Raguel, she was damn well going with them, and she wasn't going unarmed.
"I'm not angry; I'm just going with you, that's all," Gail told her husband, as calmly as she could. "I don't know why we have to keep on having this same discussion, over and over again. Haven't I proven to you by now that I'm capable? I'm not going to sit at home like some delicate porcelain doll while you guys are out there, putting yourselves on the line. I'm not going to do that, Cas, and frankly, you shouldn't expect me to, by now."
"This is different," he protested.
"How? How is it different?" she asked him, frustrated.
"I don't know. It just is," Cas persisted stubbornly.
"Oh, well, as long as we've cleared that up, then," Gail said, rolling her eyes. "I'm going. End of discussion." She scrutinized her husband's face. "What's going on with you, Cas? And don't say nothing, or I swear..."
"It's not nothing," he said soberly. "I'm afraid."
She looked into his eyes, moving closer to him. He wasn't kidding. She could see it, now. She'd thought that he'd just been in soldier mode. But that wasn't it. Cas was petrified. "Of what?" she asked him softly.
"Everything's going to change, soon," Cas said in response. "Everything. All we hold dear is going to be lost, and I don't know what to do about it, this time."
"What do you mean, 'this time'?" she said, alarmed.
"I always make the wrong decisions," he said vaguely. "I should have killed Arthur, before he had the chance to hurt you. I shouldn't have gone to the New World at all, or if I had, I should have sent you away before dragging you down with me. I should have gone to New York to save you. All those people in Guyana died, anyway. I even made the wrong decision in Germany, when Father told me what I was supposed to do, and I defied Him. That's why we continue to go through these trials. But that's not your fault; it's mine."
Gail knew what he was talking about now, to a certain extent. Cas was referring to the ordeals they'd had at certain points in history. When King Arthur had burned her at the stake. When they'd been put to death for practicing witchcraft, in the New World. And when Cas had tried to rescue the poor unfortunates who had died in the jungle thinking they were following a man of religion, not some murderous psycho megalomaniac. But Gail had died at the end of a knife in New York because she'd wanted to. Because she'd realized that Cas wasn't coming, that he was dead, and that hadn't been his decision, it had been hers. But she knew nothing about Germany. Did that really matter, though?
"Come here, please," Cas said, opening his arms. Gail walked into them. "I couldn't let go of you. I can't," Cas said to her softly. "He shouldn't expect me to."
Before Gail even had the chance to think of something to say to that, he was kissing her, and she responded eagerly. They hadn't seen each other in days. They hadn't been intimate since...actually, she couldn't remember the last time. His tongue was tracing her lips now, and she was remembering when they had first kissed like this, on the blanket in Camelot. When they just couldn't stand it anymore. Now his tongue was trailing down her neck and she was remembering those stolen moments on the ship to the New World. They hadn't been able to wait until they were married, although the people from that era would have disapproved, if they'd been caught.
Now Cas had her on the bed and their clothes were slowly coming off, and she was remembering their times in the current era, in Las Vegas, Paris, Vancouver, and here, just to name a few. Cas's mouth was on her body, and he was kissing and licking her, caressing her, asking what she needed, and her answer was the same as always: Everything. Because if they were going to lose everything shortly, then shouldn't they have everything, now?
They made love quickly the first time, and then more slowly, the second. Cas couldn't stop touching her. It wasn't fair. He wasn't strong enough. How could he be expected to turn his back on the only woman he had ever loved? Cas could compartmentalize a lot of things, but not this. He loved Gail beyond all definition of the word, and she loved him the same. He knew she did. She had given up so much to be with him, and she kept on doing it. Was he just supposed to turn his back on her after all that, and after all this time? He couldn't do it. He shouldn't HAVE to do it. God could expect a lot of things from Castiel, but even He had no right to ask that. The world could burn.
"If you had to choose between the two things that were most valuable to you, how would you do it?" Cas asked her now, softly kissing the knuckles on her hand.
"I wouldn't," Gail said firmly. "Not if one of those things was you. There's nothing else that even comes close. There's no choice to make, Cas. I don't care about any of that other stuff."
He was caressing her hip bone with his thumb now, making that lazy circling motion. She got short of breath from the anticipation alone, when he did that. But that was all he was doing for now, because he hadn't made his point, yet. She could tell. But he'd better not take too long to do it. He was making her crazy.
"Even if I asked you to choose the other?" Cas said, almost pleadingly.
Oh, wow. What the hell? This was serious business, Gail realized now. "Now, why would I go and do something like that?" she said. Her stomach was fluttering, but she started to touch him now, because he was making her wait too long.
"Because I'm not strong enough," Cas replied. His hand moved between her thighs, and his thumb was making those lazy circles again.
"Well, I AM, and you already know what I'm going to say," Gail said, gripping him tighter. "I say forget it. I say I love you. I choose YOU. Each and every time."
Cas kissed her on the mouth, and finally, his thumb was just where she needed it to be. She cried out, and then so did he, and the subject was closed. For better, or for worse.
And at the same moment, Alice took the gun out of her purse and shot Aggie in the back of the head, three times, execution-style. She couldn't afford to give the woman a chance to fight back.
Vincent's daughter fell to the floor, and seconds later, she was dead. Alice checked her carefully, just to make sure. Then she let herself out of the beach house, making sure to wipe the door where she'd touched it. She got in her car and drove away, quietly and calmly. No one saw her.
The Angels had made their choice, and the deaths would continue.
