This is set sometime after the end of Season 1. While it doesn't break canon to my knowledge, it is definitely AU. The Winchesters' backs are against the wall when Sam's life hangs in the balance.
Disclaimer: The Winchester boys aren't mine. The Colt isn't mine. Wish the car was mine. But I can only blame myself for the Circle of Enoch.
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Charlotte Webb, Agnes Bennett, John Smiley, (OFC) Ellie Jenkins
Rating: PG-13 (Dean likes to swear. Angst. Whumpage. Mild gore.)
Summary: What goes up must come down.
Feedback: Absolutely! Concrit is always welcome!
Miscellaneous: As always, this would not have been possible without the brilliance of JMM0001, whom I would hug mightily for her pacing notes throughout and her feedback on the last section…except she's in Canada. Much thanks to the lovely wenchpixie, who patiently put up with every variation of text between daily revisions, sending me beta notes daily and allowing me to use her meta commentary as dialogue. Both acted as my betas for this chapter, and they should be able to indulge in Dean Winchester Ice Cream Therapy daily for everything I put them through. The good parts are because of them. The bad parts are all me.
Chapter Eleven: Under Pressure
When she was growing up, Charlotte learned the value of silence.
Silence was an art, cultivated for self-preservation. The others would run roughshod through the house, released from their studies for an afternoon's well-earned play – and Charlotte would freeze where she stood, usually balanced on a pair of crutches because of the grafts. The boys always taunted her when they saw her, called her names in their sing-song voices. Only Meg treated her with any sort of care, until the day she began her advanced studies and something broke within her. It was easier for Charlotte to pretend that she wasn't there, even holding her breath until they passed her by and she hobbled back down the hall to her room.
But the taunts of little boys paled in comparison to what happened when Celeste Webb found her – or when Richard Masters noticed the little red-haired girl with tainted blood. Judas Iscariot had red hair, Charlotte. Jezebel had red hair, too – and she's the world's most famous whore. Do you know what that means? Charlotte always knew what it meant – that she would grow up to ruin everything, with her useless gift and her scarred skin, completely unable to resist any temptation thrown at her. The only place she was safe was the library; Jacob Morrison didn't seem to mind her being there with him while he worked, curled up in a chair with one of her books.
Silence was the prelude to becoming a shadow, wandering through hallways without anyone even realizing Charlotte was there – caught behind so many shields that not even Jacob could find her. It wasn't that she disappeared so much as became unnoticeable, a phantom walking beside them in the midst of a cocoon that masked every emotion running through her.
Every plan of escape – every dream of a different life – had one constant; Charlotte Webb would never hide again, would never feel so small that she wanted to curl into a ball and disappear – like she had when she heard other children laughing, or saw her mother's gray eyes flash. When the whispered voices mentioned her father's name in hushed tones, and how she would come to no good because of her father's blood.
She trudged behind Sam, staring at his back. Charlotte shivered. The look on Dean's face when she fell down, her skirt around her thighs, was almost enough to make her turn back. She couldn't even stand up properly. Sam had actually chuckled when her skirt got caught on her cast, but Dean had just glared at her like that little girl was going to die and it was Charlotte's fault. She could see it in his eyes – even if she felt something else when Dean looked at her.
Becoming a shadow was the easiest thing to do.
Charlotte pulled her shields up, one by one, as they walked further into the cavern. Each step brought another breath, each breath brought another shield. Remember your lessons. She could almost hear Jacob standing beside her, his calm voice in her ear. Charlotte stifled a laugh. No lesson could help her now. She was a scarred little girl, her mother's daughter. Following the Winchesters with a cramped leg, and no clue what she could do to save any of them. Charlotte was dead the moment the Circle found her. How could a lifetime of lessons, a lifetime of languages, save her from that?
Charlotte could feel the malice in the large room ahead – even before Dean turned off his flashlight, and the Winchester brothers began sneaking into the room. That thing wasn't a hybrid, a human walking around with the soul of a demon; it was a demon incarnate, hiding in plain sight. So strong it didn't need a human host, could pull a semblance of flesh around itself to walk on the Earth. One of the old ones. Another lesson – about those that Shemhezai and its brethren left behind. Angry and repudiated, the thing in the cavern had lived thousands of years completely cut off from its source – mutating into something else.
She wasn't surprised when Dean made his challenge. She wasn't surprised when Sam backed it up – rage boiling inside of him as the one thing Charlotte feared more than the Circle of Enoch danced its own Ascension. But when the Cordi Peredo raised its hand and flung Charlotte backwards into a pile of bones, she knew that Death wasn't coming for her. What was coming for her – what was coming for Dean – was something so much worse. The Cordi Peredo would use them until they were nothing bit mindless things, another extension of itself. And that was the happy ending. Armaros was the nightmare. Shemhezai was Armageddon.
A wheeze slipped from deep inside, the bones pushing into her back as she shifted on top of them. Charlotte's chest felt like it was surrounded by iron bands, and it burned almost as badly as her entire left thigh. Both of the Winchesters were screaming – raw cries that made Charlotte want to scuttle backwards. Sam was screeching his defiance while Dean shrieked something else. Hunger. Rage. The need to kill. It echoed deep within her chest, the urge to scratch and bite until they were all gone. Torn apart.
It was the answer. It made sense – the only way to escape the demon, to escape Armaros.
To escape each other.
Charlotte rolled onto her stomach, pushing herself up quickly as she faced Dean, lips pulled back and hands at the ready. She didn't even have to close her eyes to see her teeth tear into his neck, and only the smallest piece of Charlotte screamed against the vision. A miniscule spark that still believed in old lessons, the tiniest part that saw Sam Winchester hanging three feet in the air with a demon's claw jammed within his belly – orange sigils springing to life across his skin. The world ending with a whimper. But the rest of her knew it was the end for all three of them. It was time – time to put the Winchesters behind her. There was a price for pretending that she mattered and then marking her as a phantom thing.
Dean Winchester would be the first.
He roared, and Charlotte shifted on her feet, facing him with a shattering pain in her thigh. His entire upper body was burning – red marks upon his chest that blazed through his shirt until all that was left was his skin and the red symbol the flames left behind. Dissidium! It was Jacob's voice. But Charlotte Webb had never been the girl that old librarian thought he knew, and the memory did not matter. She would never be that girl. Those lessons were lost on her, but she remembered the man's words all the same.
Death was inevitable. No way to fix the pain Dean brought but to kill him, no way to scratch out the canker except with teeth and fingers. The jaws that bite. The claws that catch.
Another scream.
Sam! The tiniest part was getting smaller, a bird beating within her ribcage as the demon shook Sam and threw him on the ground like a rag doll, but it felt him – a little boy, and a fire, and the baby in his arms. Dean… Hazel eyes met hers and softened, the hex on his chest shifting wildly from red to a blue glow – until suddenly, the light was so bright the symbol shattered, sparking against the candlelight from the demon's altar as it broke apart. Just so many pieces of nothing.
The Cordi Peredo snarled, its challenge answered by a shout – the only battle cry that Dean Winchester could make as he charged forward.
"Sammy!"
And the tiniest part inside that was still Charlotte hoped that it would be enough – that defiant cry of a little boy who carried a baby through a burning house – as her throat swelled. An inferno consumed her entire left leg. She wanted to rend, to gouge, and her head thrummed within its own rage as Dean rapidly shifted his attention – taking on a demon with nothing but a large knife he pulled from an arm sheathe. Charlotte glared, eyes narrowed. There was always Sam, mewling on the ground while his older brother battled the demon. Easy prey. Too broken to move. Too broken to fight back. Dean could die later. She prepared herself, taking a breath.
You are Called, and You are Chosen.
The first step brought the first lesson. You are Beata. You go where you are needed most, and you fight the unbeatable foe. Charlotte closed her eyes – so many voices, a myriad of recitations about duty and blessings and the reasons why the Beata served. So many voices, calling to her amidst the stark need to rip Sam Winchester apart with her fingers. She felt the rush of a claw across her left arm, eyes whipped open as Dean fell backwards, knife dropping out of his hand from the force of the blow. And the tiniest part sang inside of her, a small voice breaking through the red haze of her vengeance, with the need to protect Dean. Called for him, she remembered. Always called for him. Twice in one day.
The second step brought with it a scalding jolt through her body, the blaze licking up her legs, past her abdomen and arm. The only thing you can do, when faced with the strength of love's purity, is stand with it. A little girl brave enough to find her father when she felt him dying. It was her father's lesson, repeated so often in Jacob's patient voice that Charlotte could recite it – could recall them all – as easy as breathing. Sam stirred in front of the creature. Worry beating against rage, trying to fight the same burning desire to slay that resonated within her. Dean charged the Cordi Peredo, and was slammed down when the thing raised a shield – a physical shield powered by children's laughter, every single tendril connecting to the thing's chest pulsing in time with the shine around it. Sam always hated it when children got hurt, she remembered.
When she finished her third step, Charlotte was at Dean's side. When your back's against the wall, show them what you're made of. He rolled, half on his knees – eyes level with the fabric burning off her skirt. Fire slammed through her thigh and she almost fell, a red hex that marked her as Dissidium's victim. And Charlotte knew, with her third breath, that there was one way to get past the Cordi Peredo's shield; it would take both of them, Dean's strength and her training. Because Dean would always save his brother – and not even one of the Unforgiven Curses could stop him. When blue fragments splintered like snowflakes against Dean Winchester's startled face, Charlotte believed.
They were Called and they were Chosen.
And Sam needed them.
Charlotte swallowed. "Do you trust me?" she asked, holding her hand out to Dean. Please…
"Hell, yeah!" he returned – his hand warm, strong fingers encircling hers before she even finished the question – with the same determined look on his face that he had the night before while they were researching together. And somehow, Charlotte pulled Dean to his feet without falling down.
"I'm not strong enough," she said. "I need…" How could she explain what she needed, when it was all instinct?
"Take it," Dean replied simply, staring down at their hands. Charlotte had already started. Where their fingers touched, the Ziv Zakai spilled between them – growing stronger the closer Charlotte came to a Dean Winchester no one else knew. A little boy so strong that he could carry the weight of his mother's death in silence, a little boy who cared nothing about his own life; the only thing that mattered was protecting Sammy. Still. The only thing that mattered.
When we were young, I pretty much pulled him from a fire.
Charlotte's eyes flung open. Dean was underneath the edges of her skin, strength born by need, and they were doing something she'd never read about in her books. An impossible thing. Sam's body twisted just enough towards the blue light for Charlotte to see a red glow underneath flickering seals on his back – orange then blue then orange – while the Cordi Peredo's cold laughter echoed in the chamber. But there was fear coming from the thing, a chink in the shield, as it realized what Charlotte already knew.
There was a power in that cave strong enough to break an Unforgiven Curse, and nothing was stopping it from getting to Sam Winchester.
Nothing.
"Convello!" The word flew from Charlotte's lips, the desire to protect coalesced into a spear that shattered the demon's shield. She fell to her knees as the shield fractured, letting go of Dean's hand as his body shifted. It's your turn. He leapt forward, pulling another knife from its sheathe, while Sam's hand inched towards the sword. She choked back a cry when she realized his left eye was missing. Sam rocked to his knees with one arm pressed across his stomach.
The demon drew back its hand, screaming its defiance as Dean jabbed with his knife – a quick, economical strike. It was almost too beautiful to watch, Dean Winchester dancing around the demon so gracefully that tears came to her eyes. How long do you train to be able to fight like that? The Cordi Peredo tried to gather its strength – Charlotte could feel it – but the tendrils connecting it to the children had been cut along with the shield. This was their best chance. Our only chance. Dean's knife skittered across the demon's stomach, its claw inches away from slicing across Dean's throat. With a scream, Sam pushed his older brother out of the way – taking the cut across his shoulder.
The Light of Dawn shone blue in Sam Winchester's hands, every sigil on his body matching its color, and the Dissidium hex burning on his back exploded into blue sparks. "Enough," Sam said clearly, his voice soft but reverberating within them all as though he had shouted it, and the sword pierced cleanly through the Cordi Peredo's chest where the tendrils used to be. The thing shrieked, filling with the Ziv Zakai until it blew apart before their eyes. In the hands of the Liberator, Jacob's voice reminded her, the Light of Dawn will destroy the unrighteous.
The boy with the demon inside had saved them all.
The sword clattered to the ground, and the Ziv Zakai disappeared. All that remained was the broken body of Sam Winchester falling backwards into his brother's arms, Dean already there to catch Sam as he fell. And there was a sob, choked down deep inside, when Dean looked down at his little brother and saw the missing eye, the chunks of flesh gouged from arms and legs. The entrails bulging through the rips in Sam's stomach. Sam's left hand was holding onto something tightly, and when Charlotte gently pried open his fingers, she found what was left of his eye.
God help them, Sam was still breathing.
Charlotte was crying, and she didn't care. There were so many things to say to both of them – the need to wrap them both in her arms and hold them while she apologized for what she said and for not recognizing the hex and told them how brave they both were and that she could still feel the thunder at their backs – but all that mattered was ripping off a strip of what was left of her skirt and gently placing Sam's eye in it. And then she was taking off her sweater, handing it to Dean as he tried to staunch the hole where Sam's eye had been, using another part to press down into the wounds on Sam's belly. More strips of her skirt around Sam's arms, as soothingly as she could.
But it wasn't enough.
They had broken an unbreakable curse – and God alone knew how the three of them had managed that – but whatever that power was, it couldn't keep Sam from dying right before their eyes.
"Dean…" Sam's voice wasn't even a whisper, his one eye closed as he spoke. "So sorry…"
"Don't talk, Sammy," his older brother replied. Dean's voice was strong, even though his eyes looked like his soul was breaking. "You need to save your strength until we get help."
"It's coming." Sam even tried to sit up. They all knew what he was talking about. "Leave."
Dean couldn't say anything to that. Charlotte brought one hand, trembling, to Sam's forehead. He was burning, stronger than anything the hex could have done, and the brief touch ripped through her like a battering ram. "It's not coming," Charlotte said, trying to make her voice as strong as Dean's had been, trying not to let Sam hear that she was still crying. "We won't let it," she added.
"Can't stop it," Sam returned, a brief smile on his lips. He couldn't even open his good eye.
Broken boys like this were the reason she was made. Dean was looking at her, his eyes widening when he realized what Charlotte was doing – one hand on Sam's forehead, and the other pressing down on top of the sweater against Sam's abdomen. "Charlie!" Dean's voice was sharp, scratching past the pain that filled her. It hurt worse than anything she knew – the fire, physical therapy after surgeries, the cold burn up her cheeks when someone laughed at her. It was all that and more, rumbling through her. "Don't do this," Dean added. It was a plea, and he felt exactly like he had all morning.
"Get help," Charlotte returned. When Dean opened his mouth to protest, Charlotte's mouth twisted. "I made a promise, Dean." It kept him quiet, but it couldn't keep his face from going white around the eyes when phantom gashes appeared on her arms, on her thigh. Blue light spilling from behind her eye, and from her abdomen. A light so strong that even John Smiley gasped from the altar. There was a question on Dean's face. It hurt so goddamn much, and if it were anyone else but Sam, she wasn't sure she could do it. "I can hold on long enough," Charlotte added.
"Got a better idea," Dean said abruptly. "I'm sending someone else for help." She could feel something waver inside of Dean, saw the first emergence of a tendril. He's using his Gift! And he was doing it on instinct, based on what he had seen her do over the last ten days. "I'm coming back, Charlie." She shook, nodding to let him know she understood. Daddy, it hurts. "Goddamn," Dean added, so softly it was barely a breath, "You're the strongest – " He shook his head, brushing her cheek with his hand.
And then he was gone. Charlotte could hear him talking to the administrator, the flick of a knife cutting through rope as he spoke. Sam was moaning, a low grumble in his throat. She brushed his forehead, focusing on her breathing – on anything that would get her through to the next breath. Sam's chest moved shallowly, his own breathing labored. His skin was clammy, and if Sam wasn't already in shock, he was certainly on his way. He needed to know that she was still there. "Stay with me, Sam," Charlotte said softly.
Dean was still talking in his low voice, and she could hear the administrator's voice agreeing with whatever Dean was saying. Focus! Charlotte matched her breathing with Sam's, each gasp coming more slowly than the previous breath – and there was a hollow rasp echoing through her head. Charlotte hoped like hell it wasn't coming from Sam. His entire body was shaking, and her abdomen felt like it was being split open from the inside, fingers peeling back her rib cage. The sweater underneath her hand began to move.
When orange fingers grabbed Charlotte's wrist, she screamed.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sam was blown to pieces – just so many tattered edges with nothing to do but fall apart. He was caught in the maelstrom. His body had stopped being his own long ago, and now his mind was twisting. Twisting in a wind filled with glass shards, as the thing called Shemhezai roared in its prison – preparing for its Ascension. It would be so much easier to give up and stop hurting.
But Sam was a goddamn Winchester.
His stomach ached – even with cool fingers on his forehead brushing away the sharp undercurrents of the throbbing that rolled through his abdomen. Sam was freezing, no longer able to feel his hands or his feet. His body stopped registering the cold dirt packed underneath him, the sharp edges of the bones on the ground. And the stench of the Cordi Peredo's lair was nothing compared to the oily slither of the monster through his rib cage.
Shemhezai was laughing, a slippery resonance throughout Sam's entire head. She cannot hold on forever, boy. Sam knew it was true – there was no way Charlotte could encompass the pain while Shemhezai slipped around the edges of the wounds in his stomach, waiting for her guard to drop. Hell, the thing was close to cracking her open long enough for Armaros to try and slip inside. But Shemhezai believed that Sam was too far gone to fight, that Sam could do nothing to stop it from Ascending. Dean wasn't going to leave, Charlotte was just as stubborn and Sam was a goddamn Winchester.
"Stay with me, Sam."
Charlotte's voice was soft, always soft, but Dean had no clue how strong that girl was. Just like Dean – believing he was broken but never seeing what really mattered. Those two had to get out. Sam would hold on long enough for them to realize that they needed to leave.
Why do you not give up?
Because they were not ants just waiting to be stepped on – even when they were powerless. Whatever power Sam could call was fickle, and Shemhezai knew that, was a constant witness to Sam's inner struggle whenever sigils began flashing across his skin, shimmering across his cheekbones. Sam couldn't even feel Charlotte's fingers on his forehead anymore, and he was getting smaller in his own head – Shemhezai expanding to fill all the spaces that Sam was leaving behind. But Sam felt arms around him, from long ago, as a crackling noise engulfed him and the world was an angry flicker.
The beast screamed, pounding its song against Sam's ribs.
White light against the back of his eye. Every breath brought a stabbing pain through Sam's stomach, and he gasped – trying to catch his breath. It was pushing harder now, fingers peeling through Sam's ribcage. But no matter how far the thing pushed, the smallest piece of Sam Winchester remained – holding onto the sharp-edged denial of everything he had lost because of this thing. A high-pitched scream broke through the creature's laughter.
And then there were the arms again – Charlotte's cool fingers brushing his forehead, the smell of Dean's leather jacket – fighting against the hands rattling through Sam's abdomen. Both of them together, too stubborn to leave Sam to die alone; watching in horror so thick even he could feel it, waiting for Shemhezai to Ascend.
"Fight the goddamn bastard, Sammy!"
But Sam wasn't even sure he could do that for Dean. Not anymore. As he let himself go, Sam's last wish was simple – that Dean would know that Sam never really wanted to be alone, that whatever pulled those words out of Sam didn't speak with Sam Winchester's voice. And that Charlotte would stay, so that Dean never would be.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It wasn't working.
Even with Dean kneeling next to her, keeping her upright, it wasn't enough. Charlotte couldn't hold in the pain anymore. All she wanted was for Dean to cradle her in his arms because it ached, because she was losing his brother – someone who had become her friend – no matter how hard she tried. Selfish Charlotte! "Dean – " she began, but Charlotte couldn't say anything more when he looked at her.
"Goddamnit, Charlie! Why won't you let me help you?" Dean frowned as she lowered her eyes. Because I don't want your last memory of Sam to be his death. "He's my little brother." And Dean's voice trembled when he said it. "Please," he added, and Charlotte had to raise her head and look at him in spite of herself. The eyes of a son who lost his mother.
Charlotte found her voice. "Because it's going to hurt you, Dean." More than you know.
"Don't care," he replied. "It'll buy us some time until that guy gets back." Dean's voice was soft. John Smiley had taken one look at Sam's broken body – including the phantom hand reaching out of his belly – and pulled out his cell phone, running out of the cavern because he didn't have any reception. "And I know he's dying," Dean added, his eyes shining at her. "You can't protect me from that anymore than I can protect you."
Charlotte nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks as she brought down the barrier between them – letting some of the pain spill over into Dean. He sucked in a breath, and his eyes widened when the Ziv Zakai broke out all over his skin. Sweat beading on his forehead. Bloodless gashes opening on his arms, on his stomach. Charlotte knew it hurt, but all she could do was squeeze his hand. His little brother was dying and Dean Winchester was feeling it.
Please, God… It was enough; Dean was strong, and Charlotte was able to dig deeper into the ache streaming through Sam's body and take more of it inside of herself – sharing it with Dean, hoping Sam would know that he wasn't alone. And it started working; Charlotte could feel the lightest touch, a brief flicker of the boy who challenged her to a practical joke contest, and they almost caught him – until something shoved back.
A second orange hand appeared out of Sam's belly.
Dean's eyes were wild. "Fight the goddamn bastard, Sammy!" he screamed. His hand was holding onto Charlotte's so tightly, her wrist would snap if Dean jumped.
Charlotte opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a yell from the entrance into the cavern. "Ellie, no!" It was John Smiley. Charlotte looked away from Dean while two figures approached. One of them was the administrator, and the worry filtering off of him was enough to snake its way past the pain inside of Sam. The other was a little black girl, dressed in Winnie the Pooh pajamas. Her hair was caught up into tiny braids, and there was a sad look in her brown eyes. The little girl was beautiful, perfect. And so tiny.
Dean started the moment he saw her. Ellie placed one hand on Dean's arm. "Uncle Aaron says this is where I need to be now," the little girl said softly, a shy smile appearing on her face. And when Charlotte jumped, Ellie's smile was replaced with a down turned expression. "He said you would know me, Charlie. Tamiel." The Perfection of God. Charlotte's heart lurched – the little girl wasn't just Beata. Ellie was one of the Twelve. And Aaron could only be one person.
There wasn't time to think – not about that. Sam was writhing on the ground, moaning; and the orange hands were becoming more opaque as he groaned. Ellie just looked down at Sam's face. "Where is his eye?" she asked softly, and she looked scared. Ellie took a deep breath. "Sam needs his eye," the little girl added. "We can't fix him without his eye."
Charlotte glanced at Dean; he just grimaced, an appeal in the thrust of his shoulders. "Don't look, Ellie," Charlotte replied, trying not to get sick as she pulled the eye out of the pocket she had made for it. Dean held all of Sam's pain, his little brother's back arching as the hands pulled open wider, and Charlotte winced as she pushed the eye back into the bloody socket. One dry heave, and then her right hand was back on Sam's forehead – the left on Dean's hand – as she settled back on her knees beside him.
Ellie swallowed. "It doesn't look right." The little girl frowned, put one hand on top of Charlotte's – pressing down onto Sam's forehead. And Charlotte felt the power burst forth from the little girl, a blue glow that surrounded Ellie while her braids blew within their own breeze. The sound coming out of Sam was beyond a scream, Dean's jaw clenched tightly at the noise. Ellie cocked her head, like she was listening to someone, and then Charlotte felt a tap on her forehead. Time now, baby girl.
The voice she could never refuse.
Charlotte knew what she had to do. Instinct. And what they were doing was supposed to be impossible – two empaths and a girl who could regenerate healing Sam Winchester's broken body. But the Ziv Zakai was pouring through her, pouring through Dean – hazel eyes wide, and his jacket blown backwards from his body. Pouring through Ellie, a little girl who trusted the man's voice in her head. Not one book had prepared Charlotte for this. It wasn't possible but it was happening all the same – between a little girl who could heal herself, Dean's connection to his brother, and Charlotte's ability to share pain.
And the glow became so bright, Charlotte had to look away.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It was the smell that registered first – like a charnel house – followed by the sound of his older brother's heavy breathing. Sam opened his eyes, focusing on three faces floating above him. The vision in his left eye was fuzzy – but Sam was just thankful he could still partially see out of it. He could make out Dean staring at him like he'd just seen a miracle, Charlotte smiling her shy little smile while she stroked Sam's forehead. And there was a little girl who matched the description in Dean's vision. He winced, remembering what he had told Dean, what he thought Sam believed. Sam hadn't saved that little girl at all.
The little girl had saved him.
Everything Sam had said was still fresh in his mind, coming back to him with the haunted look in Dean's eyes. Sam swallowed; his older brother would kick his ass if Sam tried to apologize in front of Charlotte and the little girl. No chick flick moments. "Hey," Sam said softly, one hand touching his belly. It was whole – covered in healing scabs, but whole. No demon coming out of it – Sam could barely feel the thing slinking inside of him.
But he had to say something besides one stupid word. Sam sat up, trying out a grin on Dean. "Took you long enough to back me up, doofus." Sam said it lightly, the little girl suddenly climbing into his lap and putting her arms around his neck. "How long were you going to let my bony ass hang out there, any way?"
"It was an object lesson, Sam." His older brother's voice sounded like their father's – but Dean was returning his smile, hazel eyes sparkling back at Sam. "What have I told you about not using a fucking gun?"
"Dean said a bad word," the little girl pointed out, her head resting on Sam's chest. "You said a bad word, too."
Sam snorted. "Dean says lots of bad words." He coughed. "And I say them because of Dean," Sam added solemnly, smiling at the little girl in his arms. He could feel her cheek on his chest; she was smiling, too. "Are you Ellie?" he asked. It made sense. The little girl getting the nightmares was probably a little girl who could heal him. Charlotte nodded when she heard the question.
"Yep," Ellie replied. "And you're Sam. I know about all of you. Uncle Aaron told me." Charlotte started when the little girl said the name. Oh, God… Ellie snuggled into his arms, and Sam's heart stuttered against his chest – he never thought anyone would trust him again, not with that thing inside of him. "He even told me that I'm not supposed to make fun of Charlie when she sings," Ellie said seriously, following it up with a sigh before burrowing against him and then she was giggling.
Ellie's laugh made Sam feel better than anything had in his entire life. It was going to be hard, fixing what they broke in the last twelve hours, but maybe things were going to be okay – they were all alive, somehow. And Shemhezai hadn't Ascended. They had even found the little girl before that demon got to her. Well, Ellie found us. He was going to try, and maybe this time things wouldn't blow all to hell after they worked things out. Sam opened his mouth to make another crack, to let Dean know they weren't totally broken – that they were still brothers – but the words stopped short in his throat.
Dean wouldn't have listened.
He was too busy kissing Charlotte, his hands entangled in her hair – and that waitress had nothing on the redhead when it came to kissing. Dean sure as hell wasn't pushing Charlotte away, and Charlotte just held onto him as tightly as she could – like she was never letting him go. Ever. Even Ellie was staring at them. "How do they breathe like that, Sam?" the little girl asked, her voice a loud whisper. "Doesn't it hurt?"
Sam snorted as they broke the kiss. Holy shit! Dean's cheeks were just as red as Charlotte's when he pulled away from her, and suddenly there was a foot of space between them. "Why don't you ask Dean?" Sam suggested, grinning as Dean snuck a glance at Charlotte when she wasn't looking. "He has a lot of experience in kissing," Sam added.
"Sammy!"
"I'll never forget Dean Winchester's Guide to Tonguing Chicks." Sam returned. It was Charlotte's turn to look at Dean while his older brother stared open-mouthed at Sam. "It was a classic."
"Goddamnit, Sam!" Dean pursed his lips, a sour expression on his face. "I am so kicking your ass!" Charlotte laughed, and Dean grinned before he added, "Once you're able to kick back. I mean, fair is fair, Sammy." Dean leaned forward conspiratorially. "Right now, you pretty much look like crap." And Dean's eyes had a shadow in them – like he wasn't sure how Sam was going to respond.
"Right now, I pretty much feel like crap," Sam returned, trying to hide the catch in his throat. He was going to say more, but footsteps shuffling nearby caught his attention. John Smiley was staring at all of them like they were a traveling freak show, and it was hard not to smile a little at that. Well, I'm a freak, too. I'm right there with you, all the way.
"What just happened?" the administrator asked, his voice choked in his throat. "Am I going insane?" He took a breath, and John Smiley's shoulders relaxed a little. "Agnes…told me she was going to destroy the three of you for interfering with Ellie. Said she cast a spell on you," he added with a short laugh. "Fill you full of your worst fears so that you would tear each other apart."
"She did," Charlotte said, arms around her stomach, "But you're not going insane, Mr. Smiley. I thought I was, too, the first time I saw something like that." She sighed. "And Agnes definitely wasn't a nurse," she added.
The administrator frowned. "What was she?" John Smiley asked.
Sam swallowed, looking at Dean for an assist. Hazel eyes widened, and Dean just gave a quick shrug of his shoulders. Well he asked, Sammy. It was hard to hide the truth from a man who watched a demon nearly gut you right before his eyes. "Well," Sam began, pushing every ounce of sincerity he could muster into it, "There are things in the world that go bump in the night."
"You're the ones that bump back?" John Smiley snorted. "I have seen Hellboy." The administrator did a double-take when none of them responded, and Sam felt sorry for him – the recognition that the world was so much darker than people realized. Lost innocence could never be regained. "God," Smiley whispered. "She's only six." His eyes flickered across all of them. "And you're just a bunch of kids." Trying to save the world with a book bag full of research notes and a glowing sword.
"Uncle Aaron says that I have to go with you, Sam." Ellie turned to smile at the administrator. Sam choked, not expecting that in a million years.
"I'm not going to allow that," John Smiley retorted.
"You can't keep her safe here," Sam said, his throat dry with the certainty that it was true. He swallowed. "Ellie's a target, and there are people looking for her," Sam added. "People who will use her Gift to raise something a lot worse than Agnes Bennett." He smiled suddenly, a thought occurring to him as Ellie's arms hugged him as tightly as they could. "Can you fake adoption papers, Mr. Smiley?"
The administrator said nothing but he turned white when Dean added, "And you might want to get Father Caldwell out here to help with the fallout. Lots of kids will need his help." Dean sighed. "Agnes has been hurting them a long time," he said softly.
"You were both on the same side, Mr. Smiley" Charlotte added, smiling at the administrator. "The Church has money for special programs. All Father Stephen wants to do is help the kids."
John Smiley's eyes suddenly filled with tears. "What about this place?"
Dean shrugged his shoulders. "We'll clean it out. The priest can make sure it's sanctified after we leave." He looked over at the altar. And we'll be helping ourselves to the books.
"Sanctified?" The administrator gulped for breath. "What are you people? Guardian angels or something?"
Charlotte burst out laughing first, and she looked so much like a little girl herself that Sam had to laugh with her. Ellie was chuckling, arms firmly around Sam's neck as she snuggled against him. Dean's snort seemed to echo through the entire cavern. His older brother shook his head. "I think we're more something than angels," Dean managed before letting out with the cackle Sam thought he'd never hear again.
When John Smiley started laughing along with them, Sam realized that they might just have pulled off the job. But Aaron was right. Finding Ellie was just the beginning.
And what was coming could still break them all.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Ellie was stretched out in the backseat of the Impala, her head in Charlotte's lap. The little girl was pointing at the stars through the back window, counting them under her breath as they drove back to the motel. Sam and Dean were sitting in the front seat – Sam asking Dean questions, and his older brother responding with one-word answers. Charlotte almost thought things could get back to normal after Sam was healed, when she watched both of them crack jokes – but the jokes couldn't cover the fact that Sam was sitting there with his heart broken, and Dean just kept falling further into the darkness inside.
Like it was where Dean was supposed to be.
They were both blaming themselves for what happened. Charlotte closed her eyes, remembering flashes of what they had said and how they had felt. But if anyone had to shoulder that blame, Charlotte Webb was standing first in line. The moment she recognized the hex, everything fell into place – the edginess, the words that pulled every hurt out into the open and dissected it. She sighed. The need to kill. There was no other way for the curse to end. Dissidium. Too many years studying Latin rendered its true meaning. To tear apart.
And they had to know.
"Hey," Charlotte said, her hand brushing through Ellie's hair while she talked. Dean glanced at her in the rear view mirror, and Sam actually turned in his seat to look at her. But it was hard to continue talking when Sam stared at her through an eye so bruised and swollen in his face, it hurt just to look at it. Dean winced whenever his eyes flashed on it. She coughed. "Did your father ever teach you about the Azeali Hexes?"
"Nope," Dean answered.
Sam shook his head. "Why do you ask?"
"Because Agnes used one of them on us." Charlotte frowned. "They were created by Azazeal." Both of them jerked when she said the name, and Sam's face hardened. "According to the Book of Enoch, the 'magic' that Azazeal brought to the world was one of the primary reasons for the first war between the Grigori and the Nephilim. But they're also called the Unforgiven Curses."
"The Unforgiven Curses?" The Winchesters asked in unison.
"Those are just myths, Charlotte," Sam retorted. "I saw them mentioned a couple of times in old research books, but a demon wouldn't use one without good cause. Not to mention the fact that they can't be countered, and we're all still here." It was Sam's turn to frown. "Even Dad didn't believe in them."
"But he had a 'special' book that detailed them," Dean interjected. "All twenty-seven of them." The older Winchester's shoulders tightened. He believes me? "Fuck me, Charlie. You're trying to tell us the Unforgiven Curses are real?" He watched her nod in the mirror. "Oh, man. This whole Beata thing just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"
"I'm going to make Dean give me a quarter every time he uses a bad word," Ellie interjected. Even Dean chuckled a little bit after Ellie said it, shaking his head ruefully. "That's what Mama Sissy used to do when I lived with her, and Brad kept using bad words." The little girl shifted, and climbed into Charlotte's lap. The only thing she could do was hug Ellie back as tightly as Ellie hugged her.
Somehow, it made it a little easier to talk. Charlotte's mouth twisted wryly. "She used Dissidium, the hex of Separation." She swallowed. "But the root of the word means 'to tear apart.' And I didn't recognize it for what it was until the very end!" Charlotte couldn't hide the bitterness in her voice. "I don't even know how all three of us survived. The hex makes our worst fears seem real. And it triggers increasing stages of violence – emotional, physical…" Charlotte's voice trailed off. "Mortal."
"Mortal?" Sam asked, his face almost crumpling.
Charlotte nodded. "The curse ends with its victims tearing each other apart." She shuddered, and Ellie brushed one hand against Charlotte's cheek. The same cheek he touched. And she was blushing.
"But the things we said," Sam said, shaking his head. "Leaving Dean? He's my family. Sure, we fight but…" His voice trailed off uncertainly.
"From what I've read, it's one of the more subtle hexes. It preys on things we already fear – the emotions we bury, the feelings we usually ignore. But those feelings carry more weight the moment you give them voice," Charlotte said. And neither Winchester liked the sound of that, almost identical grimaces on their face. "And it's worse for people who already care about each other. There's a lot more to lose." She sighed. I sound like an idiot. "I just thought you should know," Charlotte finished lamely.
"Doesn't make it any easier." Sam looked out the window. Dean didn't say anything, but leaned over to flip on the radio. A familiar bass line bounced through the car, and Ellie danced on Charlotte's lap in time to it. Sam suddenly looked at Charlotte with his old dopey grin on his face. "I bet you know the words, Charlotte" he said. As soon as the hook ended for the second time, Sam opened his mouth and yelped, "Ice, ice baby!"
Charlotte snorted – and Dean was right there along with her. "Dude, you listen to Vanilla Ice?" Dean asked. Sam didn't say anything, just smiled sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. "Well, sit back and listen to a real song, Sammy." And Dean turned up the radio, looking into the rear view mirror again. "And I know Charlie knows the words."
She did. Charlotte closed her eyes, smiling a little while Ellie continued to dance, and let the music wash over her. They were lucky – pushed to the edge of breaking and brought back by what Jacob would call a true blessing. Nothing could change the fact that they had managed – somehow – to keep Armageddon at bay, but the price had been too high. Charlotte swallowed, a flash of Sam almost dying across her eyelids. And the aftermath of the spell showed how fragile they were – all three of them victim to their own insecurities and the dark things that were supposed to stay locked inside.
The Beata bleed, Charlie. Never forget that.
A truth that books could never teach. Charlotte opened her eyes – Dean's shoulders were still tense against the back of the front seat, and Sam was looking out the window; his cute little grin replaced by something else as he kept glancing at Dean. Ellie stopped dancing, abruptly crawling over the top of the seat to sit between Dean and Sam; somehow, Dean managed to keep driving, despite the little girl flailing her way to his side. Ellie laughed, a small laugh that brought a grin to Sam's face – and Dean's eyes softened just a little bit. He even looked at Charlotte in the mirror and smiled.
Love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night.
The Winchesters didn't just live on the edge of the night, they protected anyone unlucky enough to stumble into that darkness – like little girls from orphanages. They both hurt so much that Charlotte wished she was six, so she could hug them without looking like a complete dork. But Sam still laughed when Ellie poked him on the nose, and Dean still kept time to music with this thumbs on the steering wheel when he drove – which was something. It's everything. The Winchesters didn't have much, just what they carried in their car – and hearts bigger than the sky.
Even when they were slashed and torn.
Charlotte knew – watching Sam laugh with Ellie, hearing the unconscious rhythm that accompanied the radio – that the Winchesters were the best damn thing to ever happen to a lonely little red-haired girl who spent more time with books than people, hiding in shadows and afraid to even breathe in case someone found her.
There was no way she could leave them now.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sam was too wired to sleep. He was exhausted as all hell, but there was no way he was going to bed without one final attempt to apologize to Dean. His older brother hadn't been avoiding him – even cracked that joke about the David Bowie song in the car – but it wasn't something Dean was about to bring up after that damn mental hospital in Illinois.
You're not going to try and kill me, are you?
Sam wished they had never gone to Rockford. Walking back to the car after the whole rock salt thing felt like walking to his execution. Maybe this was the day when Dean realized they were too broken to fix. And Sam would never get to tell his older brother that Dean would always be family, and home was the Impala.
Ellie rolled over, hitting Sam squarely in the chest. Dean snorted. "Pretty strong little girl," his older brother said. Sam looked at him – Dean had guns spread out all over Charlotte's bed, pieces everywhere; Dean had settled down for the long haul. So he can't sleep, either. But Sam noticed that he had left enough room for Charlotte on the bed.
"Ellie is amazing," Sam said. And she was – the six year old girl that helped save his life. Just five minutes with her in his arms, and Sam knew why Dean was compelled to rescue her because of a vision. Sure, they came across kids on the job, but never one like Ellie. The water in the shower was still going – Charlotte had waited to take her shower after everyone else – but she wasn't singing. First time she hasn't tried. That hurt, too. Sam coughed. "So is Charlotte," Sam added. The touch of her fingers on his forehead had given Sam more than she would ever know.
Dean stopped pushing the rod through the barrel of the Glock, eyes flickering towards the bathroom, but he didn't say anything – just sighed and went back to cleaning his gun. It's going to be one long fucking night.
"Look, Dean." Sam waited until his brother's face focused on his. "I…"
"Sammy." The way Dean said it, it was more than a name.
"But – "
"I don't want to talk about this, Sam." The tone was final. Dean stood up, setting his Glock back onto the bed. In pieces. The water stopped and Dean glanced at the bathroom door. "You make sure Charlie's got her clothes ready. I need some air." His older brother strode towards the door, pulling his leather jacket out of the closet. Dean's shoulders slumped as the door closed behind him.
Fuck.
Sam didn't know if Dean was running from him – or Charlotte Webb. He guessed that Charlotte wouldn't press Dean to talk the way that Sam would, but he knew the whole idea of her being an empath still made Dean squirrelly. Dean survived by locking down how he felt; Charlotte blew that wide open just by entering the room.
The door to the bathroom opened, followed immediately by a sharp thud. "Ouch," Charlotte hissed, wobbling through the doorway. "Goddamn door," she muttered, belatedly looking for Ellie. She was limping, dressed in her red-striped pajamas. Somehow, the fact that Charlotte was still a klutz seemed like one of the best things in the world.
"Lucky for you," Sam said with a smile, "She's sleeping."
"Where's Dean?" Charlotte asked, gray eyes looking around the room. After all that, she was still looking out for his older brother.
"Probably halfway to the bar by now," Sam answered, sighing. She doesn't deserve this. "Did you put your clothes in the bag?" he asked. It was a standard tactic – they'd take the bloody clothes and burn them somewhere the next day. Too much trouble to clean, Dad would always say. Sam shivered. My blood. "He's got his own way of dealing with the job, remember?" Sam added.
"He's in the parking lot," she returned, and there was a tiny rebuke in her voice – like Sam needed to have more faith in Dean. And then she nodded like nothing had been said. "The clothes are ready to go," Charlotte added, looking at him with her shy smile. She surprised him by sitting next to him on the bed. One hand came forward, trembling a little, to brush his forehead above his left eye. "I'm so sorry, Sam," she said simply, her face crumpling.
"Charlotte…" His voice trailed off, and he had to look away from her face. His family had always managed to get past the things they did to each other before, but stark apologies were so outside of the Winchester experience, Sam didn't even know how to respond. Sam swallowed, heat rising up to the top of his head. "It's okay," he managed.
"No, it's really not," she replied, shaking her head. "What if your eye doesn't heal properly?" Charlotte frowned. "You should really put some ice on it to reduce the swelling."
The eye wasn't important – it was punishment for what Sam had done. If anyone could understand that, it would be her. "What if Dean and I never really talk to each other again?" Sam returned. "Because of another goddamn spell." He shook his head. "You heard me talk about the shotgun, right? The one with rock salt?" And Charlotte was looking at him like he was the only person in the world. "How can you forgive a brother you'd die for when he says that he wished he had killed you?" Sam asked.
"The same way you forgive a bitchy know-it-all for telling you that you're an incompetent little boy," Charlotte replied, and she had tears standing in her eyes when she said it. "The Beata bleed, Sam. We're just people – maybe we're not like everyone else, but we aren't perfect, either."
"We're broken people," he muttered.
"Sometimes the only way to help someone heal is to know how they hurt." Charlotte took his hands into her own. "Knowing that doesn't mean you're not strong."
Sam snorted. "Hi pot, my name's kettle." And that earned him another one of her smiles.
"I'm serious. You…" Charlotte leaned towards him. "You defeated a demon while Shemhezai was trying to ascend. While you were dying." She squeezed his hands. "I've never seen anyone do the kinds of things you can do. The power might come from God, but you're the heart that directs it, Sam."
"See, this is why you scare the hell out of my older brother," Sam said mildly, but his throat had a little ache and his arms came around her waist. You're the heart that directs it, Sam. She jumped like she didn't quite expect it, but hugged him back.
"And that is why a dorky girl like me is lucky enough to have someone like you care about her," Charlotte replied. She stood, brushing his hair back from his forehead with another smile. "I'm glad you're my friend, Sam Winchester." And Charlotte kissed him on the forehead, looking just as surprised as he was when she pulled back.
Ellie stirred beside him, one arm touching him on the waist. "I'm going outside for a bit," Charlotte said; she touched the little girl's cheek, and then moved towards the closet – sliding her right foot into one of her slippers, turning back to smile at Sam while she opened the door. Dean better have a clue about how goddamn lucky he is, or I'm kicking his ass.
"I'm glad that you're my friend, too, Charlotte Webb," Sam said – and he knew he was blushing furiously. Charlotte's eyes were shining back at him when the door closed.
Shemhezai didn't move, didn't make a sound – and Sam was grinning like a moron when he caught his reflection in the mirror across from the bed.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Dean was sitting on the trunk of his crap car, leaning against the back window with his hands in his pockets – staring up at the sky. Charlotte shivered; the breeze blowing through her hair. It was colder than she thought it would be, but the wind smelled clean. Lots of stars out.
"Look, Sam!" Dean was annoyed. "We don't always have to have these girly chats every time we get fucked up by a spell and start treating each other like assholes," he snapped, whipping his head around to look at her. "Oh," he added lamely when he recognized her. "Uh, hey…"
Charlotte had no idea where to start, placing her hands in front of her on the trunk as she pushed up onto the Impala's bumper with her right foot. Crap! Her cast was heavy, pulling her left leg backwards as she tried to bring herself up onto the back of the car. Dean grabbed her right arm and dragged her forward. "Thanks," Charlotte said softly, settling next to him. "I'm a crap car klutz," she added, folding her arms around her stomach.
"Cute," Dean returned, hands back in his pockets. He sighed deeply as she rested her head on the window, not saying anything for what seemed like hours, but Dean kept looking at her. Agitated and hopeful, all at the same time – and when she finally got up the nerve to catch his eye, Dean's mouth twisted. "You know, that spell never really affected me," he said. "I've always been an asshole."
"And that renders you completely immune to twenty-seven curses so deadly, their existence started a war," Charlotte retorted. "Behold, the power of the world's biggest prick." She softened her words with a smile.
Dean snorted; his face twitched as he tried to remain serious. "Charlie, why the hell are you acting like nothing happened? After those things I said about your dad?" He lowered his eyes. Dean felt raw inside, like so many wires getting ready to short out.
"I wouldn't have been able to do anything in that cave without you, Dean Winchester. You just kept giving me what I needed when it hurt you." Hazel eyes widened as though she slapped him. Charlotte felt her cheeks flushing all over again. "And I did break a crutch pretending a wall was your face."
A sharp laugh erupted from his throat, but his shoulders slumped. "Doesn't change the fact that I'm an ass."
"We all were." Charlotte shrugged her shoulders. "It was a spell, Dean. I know you boys think Winchesters shouldn't get caught in traps but we did. And you were the first one to break it."
"I didn't do jack."
"Except love your brother so much you broke an Unforgiven Curse," she retorted. He started, and Charlotte turned to look at him. "I didn't even know something like that was possible. And it's not just the curse, either. Your Gift is awakening. You got knocked flat on your ass by your first vision, Dean, and you just picked yourself up off the ground to do your job."
"Remember that hole in your head the size of Texas?" Dean asked, a small smile flicking across his lips before his mouth twisted. "I'm a jerk."
"Remember those curtains, Dean?" Charlotte retorted softly. "You didn't just blow them open – you blew the curtains off the rod and halfway to Aruba." She lowered her eyes, staring at her cast; hair swinging down past her face. "The hex didn't change what you felt inside." He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and she blushed even harder than before. "But you've got the people skills of a wooden plank," she added.
Dean chuckled. "I just don't get people."
"If it's any consolation, I have the people skills of a bush." Charlotte pulled her knees to her chest. "So we're pretty much stuck in this thing together."
Dean sighed. "You think we'll ever work our way up the food chain?"
"Food chain?" Charlotte could only stare at him. What the hell does that mean?
"You're the one who came up with the whole plant metaphor. I just made it kick ass by giving us a chance to become a shark or something." He grinned.
"A shark doesn't have the best people skills."
"Sure, bring in logic, Girl Genius." Dean poked her in the arm, his face completely unguarded – and then the mask came up when their eyes met. "I really suck at…" Dean swallowed. "Charlie," he said, his voice getting stronger. Charlotte felt a sharp stab through her chest. Oh, Dean… "Hit me, Charlie."
"What?"
Dean took a deep breath. "Hit me." And there was a challenge in his eyes.
"I'm not going to hit you, Dean."
"Well, then say something mean to me. Like I did to you." Dean's jaw hardened in anticipation. "About my mom. Do it, so we're even." And the stab flared into a burn, rumbling like a train through her chest – overflowing with the need to be punished. Charlotte gulped. Love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves.
He was looking at her with those same goddamned eyes she could never resist. This is our last dance. "OK," Charlotte said, taking a breath. She leaned in towards him, voice soft. "If you're worried that something is too broken to fix, it's not."
Dean swallowed. This is our last dance. "How do you know?" he asked, eyes beginning to shine. Dean Winchester was burning inside – and she burned with him. He was never going to be alone again, stuck in that nightmare. Neither was Sam. She wasn't much, but the Winchesters had her, too.
Charlotte smiled gently. This is ourselves. "I have to believe it's true. Otherwise, I'm going to be broken all of my life." It was hard to breathe – seeing that little boy in his eyes so close to the surface. "And I don't want that," Charlotte added.
Dean stared at her – his eyes bright, his right hand clenched stiffly between them. Under pressure. Charlotte could see the white skin stretched around his knuckles, her chest tight – and she did what she should have done the night before. She put her hand on top of his, splaying open his fingers with her own, and held on as tightly as she could. Dean shifted like he was going to pull away.
But he didn't. Dean just looked up at the sky.
"Were you shitting me when you said you didn't know anything about constellations?" Dean asked suddenly, looking right at her. Charlotte shook her head, and Dean pointed up to the stars with his free hand. "See, that up there is the Big Dipper. It's part of Ursa Major. It's a pretty good month to see it, actually." He grinned at her. "You do know what Ursa Major means, don't you?"
"I know where the Big Dipper is," Charlotte said, looking up at the stars, "And I even know how to pronounce Ursa Major." She bit her lip. "That's the one with the North star, right?" Charlotte asked. Dean chuckled, and she scooted closer to see where he was pointing. Please don't move away from me. She twisted off the window, leaning on her side.
"I'm guessing Astronomy wasn't your best subject back in Special Operative school," Dean said, letting go of her hand and putting his arm across her shoulders. "The North Star is part of Ursa Minor. Can't see that too well until June, but there's part of it." He was pointing again, and Charlotte leaned against him to follow the stretch of his arm. "And that's Leo. Why the hell you can see Leo in April is anyone's guess." Dean's voice rumbled through her. "You getting all of this, Girl Genius?"
"Not the way you're telling it, Dean." Sam's voice was soft, and he stepped out of the shadows right next to them, Ellie walking beside him with her hand in his. The little girl smiled and waved at Charlotte; she waved back. "You suck when it comes to teaching constellations," Sam added.
"Taught you well enough," Dean retorted. But she could feel the tightness in his chest, the anxiety flowing off of Sam. "Think you can take me, little brother?"
Sam snorted. "You're on if there's room up there for one more."
"I'd say 'no' but since it's your bony ass, I think we'll be okay," Dean drawled lazily. Sam clambered onto the back of the Impala, sliding as close to Charlotte as he could get before picking up Ellie. She gave a small squeal as she flew up into Sam's lap, followed up with a laugh. It was hard not to smile when Ellie laughed.
"This isn't going to work," Sam said suddenly. "Not enough room." Charlotte felt a hand on her back and Sam pushed her – right on top of his older brother. "That's better," the younger Winchester added smugly; Charlotte didn't need to look at him to see the expression on Sam's face. The way she was sprawled across Dean, she couldn't even see the stars.
But I can count his freckles if I squint hard enough.
Charlotte shivered when she realized Dean's hands were on her hips – and when he grinned at her for that, she decided that stars were overrated.
"You know, Dad was the one who taught us constellations," Sam said. "Sometimes, when we were little kids, and he couldn't find anyone to take care of us when he was hunting, he'd stick the car in as safe a place as he could find. We'd stay on the back of the car – we had a game where we'd see who could name the most constellations before he came back."
"And I won every time," Dean added. "Until Sam started cheating."
"You shouldn't cheat, Sam," Ellie said, and she sounded a little disappointed. Both Winchesters were laughing.
"I didn't cheat, Ellie," Sam returned. "I just made up my own constellations once we were finished with the ones Dad taught us. That one up there is called Sam's Sticky Pancakes. If you look real hard, you can even see the GI Joe I got for Christmas that year."
"You never did figure out how to use all the cool stuff that came with Mainframe," Dean said softly. "But my personal favorite was always Hot Chick on a Hot Rod."
"That one was lame," Sam shot back. "It didn't even look like a car." Dean matched Sam's chuckle, and something inside of them cracked just enough when they both laughed again. "And I'm hotter than the chick, Dean." He snorted. "What do you see up there, Ellie?" Sam asked.
"I see Cookie Monster," Ellie giggled. "Stop tickling me." Sam didn't. And Charlotte knew what he was doing – trying to buy her some time to talk to Dean.
She shifted, touching Dean's cheek and his hazel eyes focused on her face – close enough for Charlotte to see the question inside of them. Can't we give ourselves one more chance? She swallowed. "See," Charlotte said, in a shaky little voice that she hoped Dean could hear because there was no way in hell she was going to have the guts to say it twice. "Doesn't even hurt," she added.
"Good to know," Dean returned, with a cocky grin, "Because it's going to suck out loud if you get a headache every time I do this." His hands moved up her back, past her shoulders. Hands tangled in her hair as he pulled her mouth down on top of his. And he kissed her, urgent and possessive – thrusting his tongue against hers like he had spent an entire lifetime learning how to kiss her. She felt a sharp catch in her throat as he pulled away from her, one quick gasp as she quivered.
"What is it with you and the back of your crap car?" Charlotte asked.
"It's your goddamn pajamas," he replied, lips so close to her own she could feel his smile. Her body pressed against his, and one of his hands clutched the back of her pajama top – pulling her closer to him. "The stripes are so freaking hot," Dean added, brushing her lips with his.
Sam made a disgusted noise in his throat that made Dean cackle. Ellie threatened to make Dean pay another quarter but Dean wasn't having any of that – said life was easier without chicks in the car, and he poked Charlotte on the arm; Charlotte poked him right back, making him laugh harder – and Ellie started tickling him. Dean shrieked in outrage and sat up from the window to protect himself, Charlotte slipping between both Winchesters. Sam came to the rescue, pulling Ellie back onto his lap.
"The crap I put up with for this gig." Dean sighed deeply, making a show of it. "But the job's not without its perks." Dean snorted, and then valiantly regained his composure. "There's something I've wanted for a long time," he added, his voice suddenly husky, "And only Charlie can give it to me." Dean traced the length of her left arm, stopping to touch the cuff of her sleeve.
"There's no way I'm wearing duck pajamas, Dean."
"Stripes are hot, Charlie, but ducks are just fucking sexy."
Sam snorted, and Dean grinned at his little brother over Charlotte's head while he brought his arm back across her shoulders. She leaned against him, feeling Dean's chuckle rumble through her back; Ellie was naming other constellations after Sesame Street characters while Sam helped her make the shapes in the sky. Somehow, they'd all been given one more chance. And she was never forgetting it.
"You're sitting there getting all emo, aren't you?" Dean's voice broke into her thoughts, his breath warm against the curve of her neck as he leaned down to ask the question.
Charlotte nodded. It wasn't that they were still alive; it was that she felt alive for the first time in her life. "Just thinking that this ended up being a good day," she said softly. And she couldn't think of a way to thank them; they hadn't just rescued her from the shadows. The Winchesters had shown her what she could become. No, you little idiot. Brave. She took a deep breath. "The best thing that ever happened to me was Sam shoving me into the back of your car," she added. No one had ever believed in her before.
"Right," Dean said, a lifetime of sarcasm encapsulated in one word. Thick embarrassment rushed through his entire body, matching the discomfort coming off of Sam. Neither of them were used to compliments. And that hurt; they lived as much in their own shadows as she did. "Looks like we're going to stop in Texas and find what's left of your brain," Dean added. But his other hand encircled her waist, and Dean was hugging her to him as tightly as Sam had up in the room.
Maybe one day, they would actually believe in themselves.
A/N:
There was, indeed, a reference to Lewis Carroll's The Jabberwocky. I also alluded to T.S. Eliot's The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. Methinks I am reading too much poetry these days.
I introduced more Enochian lore into this chapter, specifically the Azeali Hexes – twenty seven "Unforgiven Curses" created by Azazeal himself before the first war between Nephilim and Grigori. In the Book of Enoch, Azazeal is cited as "creating" magic and introducing it to humanity. Given that, having the thing create curses which were so powerful even most demons wouldn't use them was something of a no-brainer.
"Convello" is translated as "I shatter." Yes, one day I may actually do something more complex when doing my own translations.
This chapter owes quite a debt to my lovely betas. Wenchpixie was particularly critical, introducing several of Charlie's funniest lines as part of our meta discussions on Chapters 9 – 11. The wooden plank observation and the curtains flying to Aruba are all hers. Likewise, Sam's Sticky Pancakes is based on her lovely Wee!Chesters fic, Pancakes and Pajamas. Me loves my good twin muchly.
The title is a song by Queen with David Bowie. (Although Sam, not exactly a music geek, mistakes it for David Bowie.) Other bands have remade the tune in recent years, but I listened to Freddie and David while writing this chapter.
As always, feedback is always welcome – and comments make me dizzier than chocolate.