Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate, Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
All he saw was white. Gail smiled. Dean screamed.
He smelled burning flesh. Felt the power shoot through him, disconnecting him, unhinging him from his body. He was knocked loose and left floating. He could see her, could feel her fingers around his throat. Her hands were incredibly strong for one so small. Sam looked up into yellow eyes, the figments of himself freezing as he stared into the eyes. The pupils were slit down the center like a cat's and they looked hungry.
Feed me.
The words shivered through Sam and he struggled to look around for the source. The grip on him didn't loosen. He could feel some part of him pounding. He hoped it was his heart.
Feed me. Two thousand years since you let me taste it. Feed me. Let me taste him. He is insignificant, worthless junk, but more than you have given me. I am hungry.
Sam's legs hit the ground and the world swayed in front of him. It was blurry. He smelled rubber. A shoe was pressed against his chest. A kick knocked the air he'd reclaimed and he fell back, hitting the pavement. He hurt all over. Singed, that was how he'd describe it, feeling singed. He felt the shadow of a body lean over him, kneeling and peering at his face. His eyes opened to stare up at a small oval face and into wide hazel eyes. Gail. Her arms were crossed over her knees and she was rocking a little on the balls of her feet. The look she gave him was pitying and he watched her mouth compound into a wary smile.
"Boy." Gail said. Sam didn't understand how she could sound so cheerful. "She must really like you." The girl paused and patted her finger against her lower lip. "That or she really hates you."
"Dean…" Sam groaned.
"Oh, don't be a baby." Gail sighed. "You're both fine." She rocked a bit on her feet and reached out with a cool hand. Pressing it against Sam's forehead, she felt him flinch. "Though leaving you alive was probably more for the sake of my sanity than yours. You irritate her." Her shoulders slouched lower and she tugged a strand of hair off her face. "If it wasn't for that you'd probably be dead. Fortunately, I guess, I'm never far away."
"What…happened?" Sam asked. His ribs hurt, they were lying outside a hospital, why hadn't anyone come running? Why wasn't she getting arrested? A cough buffeted his side and his skin spasmed.
"Shhh." She pressed a finger to his lips. "You had a run in with a god and you survived."
"Wouldn't be the first time." Sam mumbled. He hurt all over. It felt like his entire body was one giant bruise. Why was she sitting here with him? She was supposed to be Dean's bodyguard. Where is Dean?
"But I'm guessing you never went up against someone big." Gail replied. "Probably some small pagan god who hasn't been worshipped in five thousand years or something. Not one of the big names. Like Ares or somebody like Odin. Or… never mind those two are the same person." She tapped the side of her head with a closed fist and stuck out her tongue. "Oops, shouldn't have said that. Anyway, it was probably just one of the random pagan ones that haven't been worshipped since Roman times. Right?" His expression was the only answer she needed. "Yeah, that's what I thought." She moved her hand off his skin and tapped her knee, her face scrunching up irritably. "I mean you guys can't stand up to angels? It's easy enough to get into your minds, so, that's a no. But then they have an easy time of it getting into my mind, so go figure."
"What did you do to Dean?" Sam coughed. He wished she'd just leave him alone.
"Nothing." She said. "He's sleeping." She sighed. Gail motioned behind herself dismissively, but her voice sounded genuine. "I took away his gun and stuffed him in your car." She twirled the keys on her ring finger and then dropped them onto Sam's stomach, ignoring his grunt. "Which is more than he deserves 'cause he shot at me a couple times, and for that I'm betting he's gonna have some really bad nightmares for the next few weeks."
"What did you do?" Sam asked. He didn't feel like moving yet, he didn't really want to, everything felt like it was on fire.
"I didn't do anything." Gail said. "I wanted to do it all peaceable like, but your brother didn't believe me and she got impatient. It happens sometimes. You'd think she would, but some of my bad habits rub off on her."
"Fine." Sam snapped. "What did she do?"
Gail smiled. "I'm not really sure." The girl shrugged. "Neither of you are seriously injured, so it's probably not important.""Not important?" Sam demanded. "Not important? Dean and I haven't had our asses handed to us that quickly since the Angels!" Memory of trying to breathe without lungs stopped him for a moment, turning his face into a dark, shrouded mask. Yes, this had felt a lot like going up against an angel. "You're not an angel are you?"
"What?" She asked. Her laughter cut through the wet air as she gripped her stomach and her entire body began to shake. "Me?" Her giggles slipped through her lips as she twitched, a grin splitting her face from ear to ear. "Are you serious?"
Sam wasn't really sure what was so funny. She's got the same kind of powers as the angels, just not the personality. No, from the little he'd seen so far it looked like she was suffering from a definite split. Maybe the angel is damaged and unable to fully exert itself. That made some kind of sense, but not why Gail Olivia Sparks had suddenly cascaded into giggles.
"What?" He asked.
"You…" She wheezed between chuckles. "You're definitely some new kind of idiot." She patted his head and Sam swatted away her hand, glaring at her. It didn't seem to bother her. Gail glanced down at him with a wane smile on her face. "Unless you meant that crack as some kind of pick up line, which I didn't think you did…" She met his gaze and snorted. "Yeah, didn't think so. Was worth a shot though."
"Would you get to the point?"
"I am definitely, in no uncertain terms, completely and utterly, and in all seriousness, not an angel." She said smacking her chest with her fist. "Do you feel better?"
"No!" Sam coughed.
"Okay," Dean's voice cut through the air. He sounded like he was waking up from a bad hangover. Gail turned to watch him and Sam forced himself to sit up, his gaze swinging across the parking lot, looking for his brother. "Who made me drink all the tequila?"
"Anyway," Gail sighed. "Why don't we go see your friend? Bubba, right?"
"Bobby." Sam growled.
"Whatever."
***
Sam wasn't quite sure how it happened, but the next thing he knew, he, Dean, and this strange young woman were headed inside the hospital. Dean walked like he had business, but he could barely hide his limp. Somehow, the girl had caught him in the right knee and strained his tendons. Sam did not remember this happening. He tried to pretend that everything was normal, but with bearing the weight of starting the Apocalypse and now having been beat down by a five foot, dark haired waif, he wasn't in the best spirits.
Sam still wasn't convinced that Gail had actually been sent to help them or guard his brother. Guard Dean against what, exactly? The forces of Hell? Dean could do a pretty good job taking care of himself. He doesn't need some immensely overpowered sidekick. It would probably take all the fun out of life. Not that there's much fun to be had lately.
Staring into Bobby's room and at the old man in the wheel chair gazing dully out into the rain, Sam felt his heart squeeze. His old friend and mentor had just become one of the many casualties of this conflict. It was one that hurt more than any other.
"That him?" Gail's voice shook Sam out of his thoughts.
He glanced across the doorway to the young woman. The short girl was leaning against the taupe doorframe, her eyes on the man in the room. Sam found it impossible to decipher her expression, he didn't know whether she felt sorry for Bobby, wasn't concerned, that seeing a broken man in a wheel chair didn't affect her, or maybe it did. Her mouth was tucked in a small smile but her brow was creased in thought. He wondered if she was conferring with her inner self.
Why did we bring this bucketload of crazy along? The short answer: she'd left them no choice. Take me with your or I kill you. That pretty much sums it up. Sam didn't find that negotiation tactic very endearing. Not that I find anything about her endearing.
"Yeah." Sam replied. His voice was hoarse as he spoke and he couldn't help blaming himself for Bobby's condition. If I hadn't listened, if I hadn't let him drive me off. Bobby might never have been injured. It's my fault, my guilt got him in this situation. This whole situation was his fault. Like Dean reminds me every time I turn around. Sam couldn't fight the bitterness of that thought. He loved his brother, loved him more than anything. But I just wish he could forgive.
"Hey," Gail said. She glanced up at him with eyes wider and rounder than saucers, it was hard to get past that innocent expression and remember that a killer lay beneath it. "Chill out on the pity parade."
"You don't get it." Sam shook his head. "You probably have no idea what's going on."
"That's pretty much true." Gail shrugged. "I only know what the records say and that's usually only when I can decipher them. Or she does." She blinked for a moment. "Doesn't help that they're all written in an archaic dialect and in cuneiform. But you don't need to know any of that, and I shouldn't have told you, and anyway that's not the point," she swallowed and once again looked uncomfortable.
"Are you trying to comfort me?" Sam asked. He couldn't keep the disbelief out of his voice as he stared at her, his jaw hanging unhinged.
"Not really, no." She shook her head. "All I know is that sources say you jump started this timeline's apocalypse." She crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged again. "Big whoop."
"And you don't find that at all impressive?" Dean asked from behind them. Sam turned to see his brother standing there, MRI scans in hand. He was staring at Gail with hardened hazel eyes and as usual was ignoring Sam.
"Should I?" She asked. Her voice was bland and the tone indicated complete indifference as she looked at him.
"I guess so, yeah," Dean sputtered for a minute. That wasn't the answer he'd been expecting. "You don't?"
"No." Gail's eyes returned to the inner room, another mask falling over her features and hiding her expressions.
"Well, ain't that peachy keen." Dean muttered. Deciding to ignore Gail and whatever she was carrying around inside her, the thought made Dean's skin crawl, he turned his attention back to Bobby. "We gotta find some way to cheer him up." That comment had been meant for Sam. Dean doubted very much that Gail cared two lumps about Bobby and his problems. Or the fact that the Docs say he'll never walk again. "Maybe I'll give him a back rub."
"With all the steamy homoeroticism it implies." Gail responded as Sam stared at his brother with disbelieving eyes, his eyebrow cocked slightly in irritation.
"Shut it." Dean growled at her. "I wasn't talking to you. You're only here because you beat Sammy into the ground and did something weird to our minds, that doesn't make you part of the gang." He sighed. "Anyway, aren't bodyguards supposed to be seen and not heard." He gave her another once over. "Not that you're gonna give anybody the heebeegeebees."
"I thought I was here because the angels believe you need a babysitter." Gail replied, her head tilted to the side and her eyes were crinkled in a grin. She had the upper hand and she knew it. "You wanna cry now or are you gonna save it for when I change your diaper? Wah, wah?"
"I'm not lettin' you…"
"Dean." Sam began in a low voice. "Look, we might have to wrap our heads around the idea that Bobby might not just bounce back this time."
"Or maybe he will." Gail added with another shrug. "You never know."
Both men glared at her for a moment. "You got any ideas all powerful sunshine?" Dean asked. "Do you got some kind of healing ability packed into your little bag of tricks?"
Again, she shrugged. "Dunno." She said. Her voice cool and Sam could practically feel the stoniness crawling back into her expression. All her voice needed to do was drop a few octaves and then…
Bad shit.
"Leave it alone, Dean." Sam said. He nodded towards his brother's hands. "What's in the folder?"
"I had radiology perform an MRI while they were workin' on Bobby." Dean said in a low voice. He cast a suspicious glance at Gail as she looked at the folder he was holding in his hands. Pulling out the X-ray, he handed it to his brother. "Got some glamour shots." Sam held up the flimsy film up into the light. "Let's just say the, uh, doctor's are baffled."
"I'll bet." Gail chuckled.
"Holy crap!" Sam exclaimed. His eyes sliding across the complex set of markings that had been inlaid into Dean's ribcage, it was one of the most intricate spell workings that Sam had ever seen. Not that he had seen many.
"Yeah, well, Cas carved you one too."
"Can I see that?" Gail asked, without waiting for a reply she pulled it out of Sam's hands and held it up in the light. A small frown tickled her expression as her eyes scanned the image.
"Excuse me?" Dean asked. He was glaring at her, his arms crossed over his chest. "Pushy much?"
"Well," she shrugged. "Do you want a professional opinion or do you just want to gape at the pretty artwork shielding your lungs?"
Dean opened his mouth to retort and then glanced at his brother. He watched Sam shake his head. Dean's jaw clicked shut irritably and he glared at her. I really don't like you.
"That's okay." She replied. Her finger had begun tracing the line of Dean's spine and her head tilted as she got a better look at the engravings on his ribcage. "She doesn't like you either."
"Great." Dean muttered. "Now the little schizophrenic psychopath is reading my mind."
"Not really, no." She said. "Your face is just really obvious." Dean wondered if she was lying. Silently, as Sam's cell phone started to ring, she handed it back to him.
"Find what you were looking for?" Dean asked. He was only half joking as he watched Sam put the phone to his ear.
"It's passable craftsmanship." She replied with yet another shrug. "And the spell will work so long as you don't break a rib. Mess that up and it'll be duck hunting season all over again." She reached up and gave him a condescending pat on the cheek. "And I'm guessing you don't want that, right?"
"Kid, there's no way you're everything you say you are." Dean growled. Taking a step back, he turned his attention back to his brother. Looking Gail in the eyes made him nervous.
"I don't really recall saying I was anything yet." Gail sighed. Her head tilting back to press against the wall. "Well, except your bodyguard and that was necessary information to divulge." She tapped her cheek and closed her eyes. "You wouldn't have gotten along without it, I think, and it would have made our whole conversation totally pointless on top of having her beat the living daylights out of the two of you." She smirked. "Though I think that part was mostly for fun."
"Fun, huh?" He asked.
"Fear is a pretty good motivator."
"Hello?" Sam asked into the phone. "Castiel?" He frowned. He'd never expected an angel of the Lord to contact him by cell.
"Speak of the devil." Dean muttered. His attention focused completely on his brother again and the strange girl forgotten.
"Great." Gail sighed.
"Uh," Sam swallowed, surprised by Castiel's question. "Saint Martin's hospital, why? What are you—" He was cut off as Castiel hung up on the opposite end of the line. "Cas?" He asked. "Cas?" Clicking his phone shut, he put it down and shrugged.
"Great." Gail repeated.
"I take it you two aren't great friends?" Dean asked. He glanced at her, a mild smirk teasing his mouth. He liked that Castiel seemed to irritate this girl. God knows I'm having a hard enough time trying to.
She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. "Me and Castiel?" She asked. "Can't say I've ever met him."
"Huh." Was all Dean could find to respond.
A/N: This chapter was shorter than the others. It does take me a little time to get the story flowing and writing this story can be challenging. When dealing with such powerful, deranged, and complicated characters, it's sometimes hard to know exactly what to do with them. The connection between Gail and Mace will be explained very soon, in the next chapter actually. They are complicated. For the record, it's very hard writing immortals. They don't think like we do.
Anyway, please be kind, rewind, and review. A review always brightens up my day.
Feed the muse!