NOT ABOUT ANGELS
CHAPTER THREE: WE CAN'T ALWAYS GET WHAT WE WANT
I spent most of my time organizing notes, and going through files—which, ironically, wasn't that much different from what I did at home. I was an analyst, and an organization specialist at the firm where I worked. Organizing and going through files was what I did for a living, and I was very good at it.
I was now working on a way of indexing the Men of Letters lore on a digital platform, which was a little difficult with technology being almost six years out of date, but I was managing. Not to mention, I learned a lot of things I never thought I wanted to know...such as the fact that the djinn from a Thousand and One Nights was trapped in a storage unit somewhere in Oklahoma.
I was working with Kevin for three days, organizing different schemas for notes on the tablets when it occurred to me…
"Where's Castiel?" I interrupted the silence, a troubled frown on my lips.
And once the thought occurred to me, it stuck in my head, distracting me from the already headache inducing work Kevin and I were doing on the angel tablets. I was nowhere near as good at it as him, but then, Kevin was a genius, so...
Kevin looked up from his translations, bags under his eyes, and said, "What?"
"Castiel," I repeated. "You know, angel? Wears a trench coat? Kinda clueless?" I paused, a strange feeling of dread in my chest. "This isn't one of those split universes where he's dead, is it?"
Kevin blinked sleepiness out of his eyes and yawned, "O-oh, him. Yeah, he's 'died' a couple of times actually, but he's still kicking around somewhere. Sam and Dean said he lost his grace."
My face went slack as vague memories of season nine whipped through my head like wildfire.
Softly, I inquired, "Aren't the other angels looking for him?"
"Yeah," Kevin rubbed his head, looking exhausted. "They're all angry, because it's his fault they got kicked out of heaven. This table lit up like the eastern seaboard when it happened. Kind of like when you showed up, only the whole bunker locked down—I thought the world was ending."
I felt the blood slowly drain from my face, my stomach turning over.
"So, Sam and Dean know where he is, right? They're going to go get him?" I assumed.
Kevin looked at me uncertainly. "Umm…"
And so that's what had me on the phone ten minutes later with the hunters, yelling at Dean.
"And you thought it was a good idea to, what? Just leave him on his own?" I shouted into the phone.
"Listen, Cas is a big boy. He can take care of himself," Dean answered shortly. "We're in the middle of an important case right now—he'd understand—"
"Are you an idiot!? He's practically human!" My voice went shrill as I pointed out, "He's lost his batteries, and all the other angels are out for blood! It's him against the world out there! How would you like standing against those odds?!"
"She might have a point, Dean..." I heard Sam say in the background on speakerphone.
"Whatever, fact still stands, we're on a case—a few demons are holding some hunters hostage—we can't just drop everything—"
"Do you know where he is?" I demanded quickly.
"Roundabouts, yeah," Dean answered surlily. "What of it?"
"Those cars in the garage still work, right?" I asked, and proposed my craziest idea yet, "Give me his location, and I'll go get him."
Dean paused in what must've been disbelief before instantly objecting, "Uh-uh—no way. Too dangerous. And you're still on suicide watch! Not only that, but somehow you're a Prophet now, so you need to stay with Kevin where it's safe!"
"Yeah, well, there are only four people in the world besides God who know that, so maybe don't shout it from the rooftops!" I hissed into the receiver pointedly. "And forget me, you know who's really not safe? Cas!"
"Dean," Sam said reasonably, "against all odds, she is a prophet now… Maybe she knows what she's talking about. What if Cas is really in danger?"
"I think he'll be fine," I reassured, calming somewhat when talking to Sam. Dean never failed to get me riled up with his stubborn attitude. "But he's going it rough right now, and is his life really something you want to gamble with? I can help."
A pause and then, "What do you care about Cas, anyway? You don't even know him."
"He's extremely important," I grated out in frustration. "If he dies—I mean really dies—trust me when I say, we're all fucked." At the heavy silence on the other end of the line, I asked, "Once again, is that really something you want to play around with?"
Thirty minutes later, I was provisioning myself to get halfway across the country. I was equipped with various stolen clothes from Sam, Dean, and Kevin, shoved haphazardly into a shoulder bag, along with some scammed credit cards I found in a box. More daunting was the gun stuck in the back of my jeans. I didn't know how to use it, really, but I figured if push came to shove…it was better than nothing. There was also a switchblade shoved down the side of my boot just in case.
Even more concerning though—and something I knew neither Sam nor Dean would approve of—were the Men of Letters brand cyanide capsules shoved down my bra… But I knew what I was up against. There were many things worse than death in this world, and I knew, even if I wasn't strong, or brave, I had to be prepared to fight against them in whatever way I could. If that required silencing myself forever, then I would do it, since Chuck, in all his infinite wisdom, had seen fit to make my life a hell of a lot harder… But then...something my grandma always said came back to me.
God never gives you more than you can handle.
I hoped she was right.
"Okay, so, I recalibrated the GPS on your phone to work with the global positioning satellites in this dimension," Kevin handed the device back to me a little reluctantly, unwilling to relinquish the piece of future technology so soon. I had one of Sam and Dean's many spare burner phones on me as well.
"Kevin, you're a wizard," I took the phone back reverently. "Seriously, you are wasted here on all of us. This world isn't ready for the awesomeness that is Kevin Solo—I mean Tran." I grinned at our little inside joke. "I'd be lost without this thing. Literally. Thanks."
"Hah, yeah. Just don't rely on it too heavily," he cautioned me. "Sometimes, with this Prophet stuff, you just gotta follow your gut…"
I sighed, eyeing the old mustang with a frown.
"I feel like I'm forgetting something," I muttered. "I always forget at least one thing before I go on a trip, and then I'm banging my head on the steering wheel later because I need it—and right now, I feel like I should bring grenades. Do we have any of those?"
"You're not going out to fight a war, you know," Kevin reminded me.
"Yeah, well it feels like it…" I crossed my arms and rubbed them nervously. "Besides, isn't that essentially what Sam and Dean do every day?"
Kevin gave me a look.
"Not everyone is like Sam and Dean."
"Hah!" I laughed at that mirthlessly. "Don't I know it… Hey, listen, is that hug still up for grabs? Because I could really use one right now. Either that," I added, "or a couple shots of straight vodka, if we have it."
Kevin gestured at the car. "Really?"
And I laughed and hugged him, because things like driving while intoxicated seemed like normal people problems. I missed those already.
"Be good," I told him, trying to keep the residual smile on my face and not let it falter with my nerves.
"I always am," he answered, returning it with a self-depreciative one. "Come back soon though. I don't know how I ever did this without you."
I grinned. "With style, of course. You're a wizard, remember?"
"Yeah, well. Some days I wish I could send my Hogwarts letter back."
"Don't we all…" I concluded on a grim note, and with that, I was off.
…
I had a lot of time to think on the road. The driving helped. It was normal; soothing, almost. Maybe that's part of why Dean loved the Impala so much. Maybe it helped keep him sane. The music helped too. I grabbed my AUX cord out of my purse and plugged my phone into it, praying the new tech would work with the old. Miraculously, with a little fiddling, I was able to get my favorite mind-numbing playlists to belt out on the radio. I wondered if I should thank God.
I spent most of the trip singing at the top of my lungs, trying not to think too hard about things. Every moment out of the bunker had felt like a suicide run on Dark Souls III. My blood pressure was probably up through the roof, because I kept imagining all those dead bodies—those poor idiots you see at the beginnings of episodes, who don't make it to the end. I figured if I kept driving for as long and fast as I could with only short stops for gas and one-night motels, I'd be safe. I didn't talk to anyone aside from motel clerks and gas station attendants, which still made me feel paranoid. There was no telling who was possessed, who was a monster, and who committed ritual sacrifice in their basement.
Despite how much this routine catered to my paranoia, I made good time, and I was just crossing over the border into Indiana when Dean's burner phone started ringing. My eyes had just started to droop, and I knew it was about time to pull into a motel for the night, so I merged into the next exit, and picked up the phone. Seeing the caller ID read Kevin, I answered it immediately.
"Kev? Hey, what's up?" I said eagerly into the receiver.
I'd gotten into the habit of calling him whenever I checked into a motel, right before I went to bed, or when I was feeling particularly nervous out here in the open, and he called me whenever he was feeling particularly nervous in the bunker with Crowley. It was good to hear a friendly person's voice, I'd found, whenever you felt really alone. It had been so long since I'd had...friends I guess, and it was a bit of a surprise that I'd found one. When I'd realized that, there was a funny sort of floaty feeling in my chest that actually took me a little while to identify as happiness.
It was dampened though, when I remembered that Kevin died in the show. The image of his eyes burning out of his head stuck in my mind like a thorn I couldn't dig out. I couldn't remember how, or what the circumstances were, but the very thought of it kindled a feeling of dread so strong it caused me to break out into sweats. It was something I thought a lot about on the road when the music went silent, or those handfuls of moments I laid awake in the dark, staring at the cracks in motel room ceilings before slowly falling asleep. Kevin absolutely couldn't die, I decided. It wasn't allowed. I knew I had to do something. Only...I didn't know what it was yet.
I just prayed an answer would come to me in time.
"...Kevin?" I said again, when I received no answer. "Are you there?"
"Um...yeah," he said, voice drawn.
Something was up.
"What's wrong?" I asked urgently. "Did something happen?"
"...Sort of," he answered quietly. "I...need to ask you something."
I frowned. "About…?"
"Prophet stuff," he said. "Your Prophet stuff, specifically… I've never really been good with the future thing—just the tablets, and, uh...anyway," he trailed off, seeming to realize he was rambling, "I was wondering if you, um...if you might know anything about…"
"Kev, spit it out," I prompted him aggrivatedly as I pulled into a parking spot in front of a seedy looking establishment called the Red Light Inn.
"My mom," he said finally. "What do you know about...what happened to her?"
"I…" I paused, thrown a little, thinking hard before admitting, "Kev...you know there's a lot I don't remember. The specifics are lost on me. My information is unreliable at best…I don't..."
"Is she alive?" he asked abruptly. "You'd tell me if she was alive, wouldn't you?"
"I…" I was completely mixed up. "I...I don't know. I think...I think I remember her fighting. She was tough...I mean, really tough—and determined, and brave…"
Kevin let out a breathy laugh. "Yeah...yeah that sounds like her."
"Kev…" I said softly. "I'm so sorry… I wish there was more I could tell you. I know there's more to it, but...this future thing is hard." I sighed heavily. "Especially when I'm still not entirely clear on what's happened and what hasn't yet… Everything gets all turned around, and…" I paused, my green eyes unfocused, drifting towards the red neon sign of the motel I'd chosen for the night as a vague memory flashed through my head, making me inhale sharply. "Red eyes…"
"What?"
"Red eyes." I said more decisively as the memory solidified further in my head. I wasn't sure if it was real or not, but I couldn't dismiss it. "I think I remember your mom with red eyes—Oh, god, Kevin, I think I saw her get possessed—surrounded by demons—something to do with Crowley—" I broke off as another memory besieged my thoughts, and I stressed, "Kevin, stay away from him!"
There was a grim silence from the other end of the line, and then Kevin muttered, "It's a little late for that…"
"Listen," I hissed into the phone, anxiousness making my heart jump in my chest, "I have to tell you—I didn't know if it was a good idea before, but now… Kevin…" I chewed my lip nervously before finally admitting, "I remembered you dying. I saw it."
"I…" Kevin's voice faltered a little, "I'm going to die?"
"No! I…" I clenched my eyes shut and rubbed the bridge of my nose as I felt a headache coming on. "There are so many things I've forgotten, but...Kevin, your eyes were burning out of your skull," I emphasized, aware that this probably wasn't helping. "I don't know how, or when it's supposed to happen, but all I know to do is for you to avoid whatever can do that to a person." I listed off, "Angels, and certain powerful demons." Pointedly, I concluded, "You need to stay away from demons, Kevin! Demons like Crowley!"
"But if they've got my mom…"
"What if it's a trap?" I challenged. "What if the whole point of this is to get you out where they can find you, and kill you!?"
Kevin's voice took on a stronger, more adamant tone.
"If she's alive, I have to find her."
My stomach sunk lower and lower as I recognized the steel behind that tone, and my own voice faltered.
"At least wait for Sam and Dean to get back—please…" I paused, feeling the pressure of tears building behind my eyes, and I admitted in a wobbly voice. "I don't want you to die, Kevin—you're…" I swallowed thickly. "You're my only friend, you know…?"
There was a heavy silence on the line in the wake of that painfully heartfelt confession.
Finally came the sound of Kevin sniffing back what suspiciously sounded like tears, and his voice was a little unsteady when he admitted, "Yeah, you're...you're kinda my only friend too. The rest were either tortured, killed, or possessed I think..."
"Oh, Kevin…" I winced with sympathy for him. "We'll figure something out when we're all back at the bunker, I promise. If Sam and Dean don't want to cooperate, we'll find another way, okay? Don't give up hope yet."
"Heh," he laughed a little hollowly. "If there's one thing my mom taught me, it's that giving up is for losers..." A pause, and then, "Thanks, Hadley. I really needed someone to talk to other than Crowley."
"I'll say!" I remarked emphatically. "When I get back, that demon bastard and I are going to have words." A promise. "And I've got dirt on him. If he wants to bring mothers into this, I'll track down his mother, and see how happy he is about that."
"Crowley has a mother?" Kevin sounded baffled, as if the notion had never occurred to him. Admittedly, that wasn't surprising.
"Most things do… Even evil bastards have mothers," I pointed out with a smile in my voice. "And Crowley's? She's a real witch… So if he wants to sink down to that level of depravity, we'll throw it right back in his face with all we've got." I concluded decisively, "Sound like a plan?"
There was a little danger in Kevin's emphatic response of, "Hell, yes."
…
I arrived at long last in the small town Castiel had called Sam and Dean from. Originally, I had set out with the intention of whinging it, following weird news and hearsay, but Sam inevitably had me beat at that. The brothers were growing more worried about their friend the longer he went without contacting them, and something Sam found on the internet about a girl found dead and broken with her eyes burned out in a wreck on the side of the highway had their hunty senses tingling.
"Start there," came his voice on my borrowed phone. "We're on our way, but we're a couple days out, so you'll have a better chance of getting there first." A pause and then, "Are you sure you're up for this? It could be dangerous."
I thought about that, and answered honestly, "No. I'm really not up for this at all. But I know what I signed up for, Sam." I continued determinedly, "Look, I'm no hunter, but I know a little something about something, and if I know one thing…" I paused, emphasizing my next words for their gravity, "if there's any chance of Finding Castiel before the angels do, we have to take it."
Sam listened gravely on the other line, and answered, "Listen, Hadley, I want to thank you for doing this… Cas is a dear friend of ours, and I think you're really brave for wanting to help… Just...don't bite off more than you can chew, and...try to stay under the radar if you can."
"Subtlety is my middle name..." I remarked dryly. "For real, I was practically invisible back home. So, no worries on that front.." At that awkward bit of overshare, I cleared my throat and assured, "Anyway, I'll keep you posted. Stay safe, and godspeed 'n all that sentimental bullshit…"
"Heh," Sam huffed in amusement. "Yeah, you too. See you soon—"
"Wait!" I halted him before he could disconnect from the line, quickly asking, "Have you talked to Kevin at all since yesterday?"
"Uh, no. Why?"
"You should," I advised. "It's about his mom. Crowley's plotting something, but I think I've got enough leverage to outmaneuver him."
"Outmaneuver the King of Hell?" Sam asked incredulously.
"I know it sounds crazy," I agreed.
"More like suicidal," Sam added.
"And definitely biting off more than I can chew," I went on as if I hadn't heard him drop the S-word, "but I'll explain everything back at the bunker." I entreated him with, "Call Kevin. He knows more," and added, "Besides, I think he could really use someone to talk to right now… Crowley's got his head messed up in a really bad way, Sam."
"Yeah…" Sam answered with a tinge of guilt. "Yeah, will do… Just—Hadley, don't get in over your head."
"Sam..." I answered in a carefully diplomatic tone, "I was in over my head the moment I tripped through a rift in time and space, and crash landed in your bunker."
There was a telling silence over the line and then Sam conceded, "Okay, so you have a point, but willfully putting yourself in danger isn't going to help matters."
"Yes, mom..." I muttered sardonically.
"This isn't a joke," he insisted, voice hardening with frustration.
"You think I don't know that?" I hissedinto the phone, laughing humorlessly with a tinge of residual hysteria. "Sam, I wanted to kill myself when I got here because laying down and dying quickly sounded like a better alternative than dying in utter agony." I changed tracts with a softer voice. "But since then, I've decided, if I'm going to die either way, I'd rather do it on my own terms. Blaze of glory. Not out of fear, because that's just fucking pathetic…not to mention it's a waste of resources."
"...I'd rather you didn't have to die at all," Sam said grimly.
"Well, that's very sweet," I answered a little condescendingly. "But you—of all people, Sam Winchester—should know we can't always get what we want…"
And with that, I hit the end button and the line went dead.
…
Geez, I've been using the mobile app to update, and preserving the formatting on this baby has been a bitch. Sooo many edits... I'm writing all this on mobile devices because my computer is busted, so if you see any huge errors, let me know!
Anyway, I figured that was a good place to end this nice, long chapter :) Sorry not a whole lot happened in this—lots of Kevin though for people who love Kevin—but we enter Cas next time, so I hope you're excited for that!
Thanks for reading!
Don't forget to leave a review!
-tsohg a ma I
