Disclaimer: A small passage from from episode 4x22 can be found. Anything you would recognize doesn't belong to me.
Warnings: Character death, some intense/violent situations, and some creepy scenes.
Word Count: 11,776
AN: Hope it was worth the wait. So here's a holiday present. Hope it's a safe and happy one. As always, enjoy!
Chapter 28: The overlapping world.
Crickets chirped in the balmy summer night. The air smelled of rain. Stars shone up above. Tessa by his side. That didn't matter. He couldn't move. What stood before him was-
"A boy?"
He flinched.
Lucifer sneered up at him, his features too soft, somehow, as if mutating. Red blisters and burns spreading all along his face. Small bubbling welts gave a fetid kind of plump to his lips. There was a slight tremble in his arms when he opened them wide for Jace.
"Ah yes, I know you." he said.
Lucifer pinned him with his gaze and as if, he found what he was looking for, smiled. Jace tried to hold Lucifer's gaze but the creature, had now turned away from him with a shrug.
"He's all yours." Lucifer said.
The devil disappeared without a trace.
The being known as Death stood before him in the shape of a man. Death stared down at him and Jace shrank back, dropping his gaze. Mind whirling, until all he could recall was-Jace looked up to see Death turn as if to leave-
"Wait!"
Jace stumbled, feet tripping as they carried him forward. Arms windmilled, hands outstretched, and his fingers brushed Death's coat. Jace's whole body went cold and damp, chills pervading through him. He looked down and caught a glimpse of a yawning chasm. Silence. Jace shut his eyes tight.
When Jace opened his eyes, he stumbled back. Gaping at the way his senses returned to him. They were in a diner. Jace glanced back and forth over his shoulder. Nothing was attacking him and for all intents and purposes, this looked to be a mundane place. No downworlders to be found. At the prickling along the back of his neck, he turned.
Death sat on the right side of a booth, with Tessa on His left. Jace stood before them. Waitstaff bustled around, taking orders and refills patrons' glasses. Only a few tables were unoccupied. A ceiling fan swirled overhead, cool air ghosting through Jace's hair. Ambient music played from hidden speakers. Despite standing next to a booth, no one paid him any attention. In fact, a young waitress navigated past him to get to Death and take his order.
"Sit." Death said.
Jace blinked. He glanced at the waitress, who had already turned on her heel to call the order. Tessa cleared her throat. Jace sat. He stayed on the outer seat next to Tessa. A few minutes later, the waitress reappeared and set down a pan of deep dish pizza, three plates, cutlery, and glasses.
Death began to serve Himself and Tessa waited until He had gotten a slice before taking a sip of water. Death stared at him as He cut into his pizza. Jace flashed back to see that shapeless, writhing mass-that was as far as his mind allowed him to see before the memory snapped like a rubber band and he saw Death as a man again. A thin man eating pizza. Jace turned his thoughts back to red hair.
"Jonathan Morganstern."
His voice was softer than Jace anticipated but he jumped all the same. Jace swallowed back the nausea. Death frowned.
"Or is it...Jace?" When Jace didn't speak, Death tutted. "Well, what do you call yourself, little Nephilim?"
Jace cleared his throat. "Er...yeah. Yeah, my name is Jace."
Death didn't blink. "Well then, Jace, you demanded to speak to me. So speak."
"Er. Right." Jace lowered his gaze and straightened his back. He didn't look up. "I want to know if you had taken-reaped-a girl name Clarissa Morgenstern. Or, Clary-"
"Fray." Death sighed. "Yes, I am aware. I'm curious as to why you think you have the right to ask me that." He said.
Jace swallowed, the lump in his throat choking him. He took a swig of water as he tried to keep his gaze on Death. He seemed willing enough to wait for Jace to find his voice.
"I-I know that I'm a trouble maker-" Death raised an eyebrow. "That I was brought back and that can...disrupt things." Jace cleared his throat again. "I am still Nephilim-that matters-and we pay our debts. So I have a proposition for you. Make me a reaper."
Tessa paused mid drink as Death continued to slice his pizza with his knife. He paused, letting his cutlery scrape against each other. The sound was so faint, that Jace could believe he imagined it. Shivers racked his spine. For a moment, Jace thought Death might strike him. The being's face was impassive but Jace couldn't help the sensation not unlike falling from a great height. Death leaned forward and Jace jerked back. Tessa and Death exchanged looks. Jace sucked in a breath. They still still hadn't turned back to pay attention to Jace. He kept still as they stared at each other for a beat longer before regarding Jace.
"This is not a game." Death said.
Despite himself, Jace bristled. "I know, but I'm willing to pay my debt. If I can be of use even better."
"Of use." Death echoed. "Out of all the creatures, I can think of, Nephilim are the least likely to be of use. Not because they weren't made by God but by a rather uppity angel, but because this world hasn't been made a better place for it. A world, mind you, that is relatively young and that will run its course like any other thing in this universe. Well, any other but me." Yet you claim to be relevant to one such as me?"
Jace shifted in his seat, saying nothing, as it was Tessa who spoke next.
"Well, there is a ritual..." she eyed Death. At his nod, she continued. "But, it's very difficult and very few succeed." she said.
Death tucked into his pizza as Jace mulled over her words. Jace suddenly smirked, feeling like his old self again.
"I'll do it and I have an idea."
Death hmm'd, not looking up from his plate.
"We can summon that Crowley demon here and make him give you your scythe back." he said.
"Due to Lucifer's spell, interfering directly will not work." He said.
"So, I'll summon him-"
"How will you bargain with him when you have nothing to bargain with?" Death asked. "I will not be set upon him in exchange for a weapon that I will not be using."
"No, I mean-" Jace rubbed his temple. "I just meant that he can give the scythe to-" Death raised an eyebrow. "To anyone you want." Jace said. "I'll think of something."
Death said nothing. Instead, he turned to Tessa. She shrugged.
"Do you know how to summon him?" she asked.
Jace shrugged. "You can show me the basics." he said. "Please?" he tacked on after a moment. "After that, I'll do the ritual."
Tessa nodded. "Alright."
Jace smiled. He put his and Tessa's plates and cutlery into the far corner of the table as Tessa pulled a marker out of her jacket, whispering instructions to him as he prepared the summoning. The Latin was brief and Jace's pronunciation accurate. Nothing happened. Tessa shrugged and Jace's shoulders slumped. No one said anything as Jace let the diner noise wash over him. The chatter of the patrons seemed far too cheerful to his ears; even the tinny jingle of the door's greeting bell seemed to mock him. He only looked up in time to see a familiar figure stride to the table.
"Well this is unexpected." Crowley said. He stared at Death with wide eyes. "So I take it this isn't a social call. I suppose you want to know where I've put the scythe-"
"I know where it is." Death cut in. He pointed his knife at Jace as he helped Himself to another slice. "He has a proposition for you."
"Oh?" Crowley stared at Jace. "You want a deal do you?"
"Yeah. A trade. You'll give the scythe to someone who can use it against the devil and they'll decide what payment to give you."
Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Someone?" he stared at Death, who didn't bother to look in the demon's direction. Crowley soldiered on. "Give the scythe to you, essentially for free-"
"Look, whoever gets it has to pay a price. It's up to them what to pay-"
"Them?" Crowley echoed.
"Whoever's left." Jace said. "Someone has to be..." his voice trailed off.
Jace ignored the way Crowley was staring at him. He wasn't sure what the expression was. It was too calculating to be pity, but the brief confusion made a part of Jace meanly pleased. Jace waited for it to clear and then it was replace by a smirk. Jace bristled and Crowley nodded to himself.
"How about we trade on something else?" Crowley held up a hand. "I've got it. Death's coordinates." His eyes gleamed. "That could come in very handy." he said. A speculative look in his eyes as he stared at Jace, and understanding came into his features. "Yes let's do that. Should be fun."
Jace snorted. "Remember to uphold your end of the bargain, demon."
Crowley rolled his eyes. "Lovely. Yes yes yes, I promise."
"Speaking of bargains...now it's your turn, Jace." Death said.
Crowley perked up. "Oh?"
Jace glared at Crowley. "A ritual."
Crowley turned to Death. "Mind if I take a gander?"
Death leveled an impassive stare at the Demon. He took a bite of his pizza. Crowley blinked, looking for all the world as if he was regretting his request, when Death finished his slice and pushed his plate away.
"If you insist." Death said. He appraised Jace. "We are about to begin. If you have changed your mind, now's the time to say so."
Jace shook his head. "I'm doing this."
"Very well."
Death stood up, so smooth and silent that it appeared like he hadn't moved at all and had always been standing. Tessa by his side. Death closed his eyes and customers and staff alike fell to the floor, dead. Crowley stepped back, heels almost touching a waitress's wrist. Jace stared at the dead littering the ground. There just as haphazardly placed as the now pushed back tables and chairs. Death saw Jace's expression and replied.
"The price of admission."
Death stood at a cleared space and tapped his cane onto the ground. At once a sigil appeared on the ground, a complex array of intersecting lines. There were twelve outer points, with five inner points within the circle. At once Tessa went to each point and placed down a tarot card. Jace frowned. Tarot cards were something he normally associated with hedge-witches, not reapers. Tessa caught his look.
"It's to help you focus." she said.
"Come here." Death said.
Jace walked forward to Death's outstretched hands. Jace's hands hovered over Death's upturned palms for but a minute until Death snatched them. Jace gasped, head flung back and out of his control. Cold flooding through his body, pain lancing along his limbs. Jace sagged; the only thing keeping him upright was Death. Sudden heat made him double over. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his rune scars light up as if they were being re-marked, until his marks began to glow. Then one by one, they began to run and bleed, like ink being washed away with water. Jace opened his mouth but no scream came out.
Death withdrew his hands and Jace slumped. He looked around. Colors seemed different, duller. As did the rest of his senses. He stared up at Death.
"What did you do to me?" Jace asked.
"You didn't need them anymore." Death said.
Crowley gave a small bark of laughter at Jace's expression. Jace turned to glare at him, but the demon was unaffected by it. Crowley addressed Death.
"Oh coming was worth it, just to see that. Alright, you'll get your coordinates. I'll even escort Death to them myself. We can go right now." He turned to Death. "That is, if you are still occupied?"
"No. I am ready. Tessa can take it from here."
At this, Tessa nodded. Death regarded Jace for a moment. Tessa began to chant in a language that Jace had never heard before, words wrapping around Jace like a second skin. It was all too brief for Jace to comment on.
"Good luck, you'll need it."
"Shall we?" Crowley asked.
With that, Death and Crowley disappeared. Tessa stared at Jace.
"For this ritual, you are going to leave your body and travel through the various afterlives of the dead. Only when you pass each test in each realm, can you pass on to the next one. This is a journey of the soul. Because of this, your body will begin to die-so there is a time limit. It's important that you stay focused. Any slip in attention could leave you stranded in one of the afterlives. Any questions?"
Jace frowned. "I think I got it."
"Good."
Tessa pushed him. Jace's body was relaxed, so it offered no resistance to help prevent him from falling, and he slammed into the ground. His vision shorted out, going dark at the corners. His last clear picture was of Tessa standing over him, watching with a neutral gaze. Then his senses left him.
SPNTMI
"Hello gents."
Crowley appeared in Bobby's living room. The six hunters all went for their guns as the demon held up his hands. Cas, Magnus, and the Lightwoods glowered at him, weapons at the ready. Crowley held up his hands.
"Easy, easy. I come bearing gifts." Crowley said.
Bobby cocked his shotgun. "We ain't buying."
"Not even if it's for stopping the devil-"
"You pitched that before." Dean snapped. "You gave us the colt and it didn't work-"
"Honest mistake that was." Crowley said. "I want him dead just as much as you do."
"Prove it." Isabelle said.
He spared her a glance, a hint of a smirk on his face. "Because Death is on my side, so to speak. I have coordinates to his location. I can even take you to him."
"What's the catch?" Ellen asked.
Before Crowley could reply, Alec spoke up.
"Even if there wasn't any, I highly doubt that Death would just give us his ring." he said.
"What could even harm Death?" Isabelle asked.
"He does have a weapon-" Cas replied. "Although our chances of success without it would be very slim-"
"So is there even a point of getting Death's ring?" Sam asked.
"Would you all listen to me?" Crowley sighed. "Look, I have a business opportunity-"
"The price?" Magnus spoke up, staring at Crowley. "You are striking a bargain correct? Name your price."
Crowley scratched the back of his head with an exaggerated carelessness. "Funny that. The price is something you'll have to name yourselves." He waved his hands at them. "Discuss."
Resounding glowers were all he got in return. That didn't seem to phase him however as he moved to grab a dusty whiskey glass and grabbed a bottle of Jack, and fixed himself a drink. Bobby glowered as Crowley raised his hand in a toast to him.
"We truly decide what to pay you?" Cas asked. "That is suspicious."
"He's right, what's in this for you?" Sam asked.
Crowley shrugged. "Take it or leave it, but I'm the best lead you've got." He took a swig of his drink. "So how about it?"
The discussion, while not especially loud, was lengthy. Alec and Isabelle debated with the necessity of allying with Crowley to get the last ring. Isabelle argued in favor, with Alec against. Cas stayed silent as Jo, Ellen, and Dean listed off the various things that could be realistically bartered. Sam appeared deep in thought as Magnus and Bobby compared the usefulness of their respective prices. Crowley fixed himself another drink. Finally, Magnus cleared his throat.
"I'll pay the price." he said.
The conversations stopped. Alec gaped at Magnus. Crowley set down his drink on the bookshelf. He smiled.
"Let's get down to brass tacks then. What are you offering?"
"Half my magic."
"Magnus." Alec shuddered.
Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Only half?"
"I'm the High Warlock of Brooklyn. My power is such that half of it should be more than enough."
"Then let's get started."
Magnus took out a pen knife from his pocket, the blade inscribe with a Cthoinian script. He gestured for Crowley to come closer with his free hands. As Crowley did so, Magnus set the blade to his arm. A thin line of blood ran down his arm and Crowely squeezed Magnus's hand. The warlock's eyes squeezed tight as he muttered under his breath. In response, the veins in his arms stood out, and began to gleam.
It was as though they were back lit by a blue light. Crowley used his free hand to fish a vial out of his pocket. He uncorked the stopper and pressed the glass to Magnus's wound. The warlock's blood was unusually bright as it dribbled into the vial. The vial was at the half way mark of full, his veins began to dull until they returned to normal. Magnus pulled back and Crowley stoppered the vial.
"I can't believe he did that." Alec said.
"Better that than selling his soul." Dean said.
"You don't understand." Alec said, "A warlock's magic is a part of them."
Dean winced. Alec stared at Magnus. The blood inside the vial dried, giving way to a smoky blue substance swirling within the glass. Crowley pocketed his prize.
"Well?" Sam asked, wide eyed and impatient.
"Paper?" Crowley pointed to Bobby's desk.
Bobby pulled out a pen and paper from a desk drawer and Crowley snatched them up, scribbling. Bobby leaned over the demon's shoulder, and his eyes widened. He let out a few choice curse words before asking-
"Is that what I think it is?"
Crowley straightened up. "Now, without further ado, Death."
SPNTMI
Jace opened his eyes. The ground was hard and cold. He sat up, wincing and rubbing his elbows. His whole body felt stiff. His breath came out in puffs of air. Shivering, he squinted at his surroundings. In the dim light, he could make out chains hanging from the ceiling. Jace frowned. The Silent City's prison cells flashed in his mind. Shivering, he stood up. The room small and circular, was stained in thick and long streaks. The only exit was a set of stairs three feet in front of him. Jace gave a little huff of laughter.
"Easy is the descent."
Jace walked down. Sounds, which had been muffled before, now became louder. He flinched as a loud scream rent through the air. He couldn't see the owner of the scream. Jace realized that he didn't have a weapon. Jace got to the landing at the foot of the stairs when three pairs of arms grabbed him. Jace screamed. Laughter ripped into his ears and he twisted his head, trying to get away. More bodies mobbed him, hands scratching his face and neck.
He froze. The people scrabbling at his body were familiar faces. Downworlders, The Lightwoods, Luke, the Inquisitor, his father, and Clary. They carried him, ignoring his protests as he was led and then slammed down on a stone slab. They moved back and Jace tried to spring up, leaping to defend himself. However, the moment he tried, he was yanked back down as if he hit an invisible wall. Struggling to no avail, Jace shouted out obscenities. Clary brayed with laughter.
Jace turned to see her eyes flash black. Shouting, he twisted away from the not-Clary. It bared its teeth, distractingly white against swollen red gums. The teeth looked stone-like, thick enough to take a bite out of him. Not-Clary smirked, lowering her head to whisper in his ear.
"You've been a bad boy." It snarled. "Really, just filthy. Just the way you wanted to love your sister-"
Images flooded Jace's mind. Clary sighing beneath him, hands grasping his shoulders as he moved inside her. The way her hair flashed under the light-
Not-Clary shrieked, faking an orgasmic cry. Jace flinched. She grinned at him.
"Not bad, huh lover? Was it good for you too?"
"Stop. You're not her." Jace snapped.
"Does that really matter?" Not-Clary's smile was slow. "You're here now."
"There's no way out."
Jace twisted his head to see the speaker. It was Maia. Wearing the outfit she wore before she died. A plain white shirt with a sunflower decal in the center and dark, blue jeans. She glowered at him. Not-Maia gripped his shoulder.
Another flash of memory as senses poured into him, directly into his mind. He stood inside Valentine's ship, standing beside his father, and looking down at Maia and Simon. But it wasn't his perspective. He was looking up at the scene. Chains rattled around his ankles, burning into his-her skin. Valentine stared down at her, eyes searing her in place. Jace heard his own voice from far away.
"Her. Take her."
She began to scream. Her screams were his screams. Valentine lifted her up, hoisting her up over her shoulder, like he used to do with Jace when he was little. She kept screaming for help, echoing against the walls. She beat her fists against Valentine's back. She caught a glimpse of Jace's face and terror overcame her. Heart pounding, she couldn't breathe, and she choked. Her mouth and nose ran with spit and snot. Valentine led her into a boiler room with tubs of blood lined up against the walls. He dropped her to the ground and Maia landed with a thump. She couldn't move her body as he advanced with sword in hand. Valentine took his time slicing the blade across Maia's throat.
Pain exploded as spasms rocked her body, metal digging into her flesh. Blood clogged her nose and staining her teeth. Gurgling, she slumped as the last thing she saw in her fading vision, was Valentine leaning over her-
"I'm sorry." Jace gasped. "I tried."
"Liar." Maia snapped.
Her lips slapped together, spitting out the word. Flecks of blood splattered onto Jace's cheeks. He choked.
"I am dead because of you."
Jace shuddered.
"So am I."
The small crowd parted to let the young werewolf Joseph through. He stood over Jace with his fists clenched at his sides. Jace frowned. Fury flashed in Joseph's face.
"You don't remember me do you?" He snorted. "Typical Nephilim. You were more interested in insulting rather than safegaurding us."
"I-"
Joseph pressed his palm on Jace's forehead. Jace watched himself taunting the werewolves at the Hunter's Moon bar. Yet, his own voice echoed back in his ears in a faded way. The voices of the werewolves stronger in his mind. His laughter rang out, a vicious clamor of noise. As the sound replayed back to him, Jace was unable to block the noise nor the sudden slam of emotion. Rage and shame coursing through him as he watched himself flit around the wolves, throwing punches at them.
For every slur he slung, ten were leveled back at him in thought and look. He watched himself stand on the bar. His voice rang out, echoing from where he stood. Jace clapped his hands over his ears. The words still reached him. Slurs bleeding inside of him, oozing their insidious designs. Each word struck him, pushed him back, until he was in the thick of the werewolf crowd and cringing and snarling as they were.
The vision didn't fade. Jace was now outside the bar. Cold from the pavement seeped into his clothes as broken glass dug into his back. A figure-Meg-stood over him. Half her face in the shadows. What little he could see was of her black eyes and a wide, razor edge grin. She bent down closer and he couldn't move. Her hands snaked towards him, fingers too long as they wrapped around his neck. Spittle escaped from her gritted teeth and splattered onto his cheeks.
His attempts to struggle didn't deter her, even as she fumbled for a knife. Pinned under her gaze, he stared up into her face. Black eyes bore into him and he stilled. There was nothing inside them, just a sharp stab of pain blossomed inside him. Jace couldn't scream, throat just managing a weak gurgle.
A beer bottle rolled past. The sound echoed in the alleyway. As soon as Meg leaned back, he slumped; lights dimming in his eyes. Jolted out of the memory, Jace was back on the cold slab. Joseph bent down to eye level with Jace.
"Now you know how it feels." he said.
Jace nodded. "Yes."
He tried to sit up. The hate leveled at him set him rocking back onto the slab. He actually whimpered. Before he could voice anything else, another flash of memory overtook him. The field at Renwick's. He was surrounded by werewolves dying left and right against the forsaken ripping into them. Jace shook his head. They won this fight. The werewolves walked away from this. Jace watched as Gretel was torn apart. Jace flinched. Most of them did anyway. The only difference was that he now recognized the werewolves defending the island and Clary-trying to rescue Jocelyn-
Jace gasped. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry-"
Joseph, Maia, and the other werewolves pulled back to allow Clary to get to his side. Her walk was unfamiliar. An aggressive stride. She stared down at him with cold eyes, lips twitching as if trying to hold back a neutral expression. Strands of hair brushed her cheeks. Jace tried to hold her gaze.
Clary slapped him. "Don't even think about it, pervert." she snarled.
Jace swallowed. "Clary-"
"Don't." she said. "You bullied me into bed. Tried to turn me into your creation."
"When?" he asked.
Clary's face twisted. "When you became Daddy's little bitch."
Before he could answer, Clary slapped him again and he spiraled back into memory. Renwick's again. He found himself with Clary and his father. Clary and Valentine conversing. The former's earnest anger clashing with the calm manipulation of the latter. Jace heard himself pleading with Clary.
"Come with us."
He heard the scream unvoiced coming from Clary. He flinched, but his past self was unfettered. With every heart felt word, despair grew within his sister. He wanted to shake his past self, even more so than Valentine, who only commented when spoken to.
"Why is this so hard for you to accept?" Past-Jace railed at her.
"Because she is in love with you." Valentine said.
Clary glowered at her father, red faced and eyes glistening with unshed tears. Jace stumbled back from the force of her shame. It coursed through him, burning him from the inside out. He trembled all over, sweat breaking out-
Luke burst through the door. Jace turned away from the scene, shutting his eyes tight. A sharp lance of pain went through him and spots appeared behind his closed lids, as if he was staring into the sun. Jace twisted away and his eyes were forced open. He watched himself hold Clary down, keeping her away from Valentine and Luke. He continued to watch himself stand next to Valentine, to the point that he did nothing as his father walked through the portal.
Jace was yanked back to that stone slab, quailing under Clary's harsh gaze. The too hot air crackled and when Clary opened her mouth, Jace felt the weight of her words.
"Like father, like son. All you like is hurting people. Here's my theory. If your precious Clave thought it was ok to hunt down mundanes instead of downworlders, you would do it, no problem."
Jace bowed his head and when Clary's fingers reached for him, he didn't try to escape their grasp. Lying still, he invited the memory that slammed into him. He recognized it immediately. Clary and Jace sharing the elevator at the institute, leaving for Clary and her mother's home. Now, as it did before, the conversation started.
"I thought that mundanes couldn't handle runes?" Clary asked.
Jace shook his head. "They can't."
Clary frowned at him. "So you weren't sure if that mark you put on me would work."
He shrugged. "I was ninety percent sure."
Clary made a little humming noise and Jace turned to her, about to speak when she pulled her hand back and slapped him. He stared at her, flabbergasted. Jace put a hand to his cheek, poking at the redness her mark left.
"What was that for?" he asked.
"The other ten percent." she snapped.
With that, the memory ended. This time, Jace held Clary's gaze as she stared down at him. Clearing his throat, he took a moment before speaking.
"I'm sorry." he said. "That doesn't really cover it, I know. You were right. As long as I got the attention, it didn't matter to me one way or another. I was reckless and arrogant and everyone paid for it. People are dead because of me and I can't take that back. I was a bad shadowhunter and an even worse person. I don't have an excuse for not figuring that out sooner, and if I had I would have treated you-everyone-better. Too little too late, huh?"
Clary said nothing as Jace's eye stung, salty tracks running down his cheeks. At her non-response, he turned he nodded. Clary raised up her hand, arm pulled back high. Jace closed his eyes. His chest finally steady, frame limp as he waited. When no blow came, he opened his eyes. In the place of Clary, stood a woman. She wore a simple shift, a blindfold covering her eyes, and in each hand was a sword and scales. With her sword hand she pointed to the left of him and Jace followed with his gaze. An archway with a winding passageway. When he turned back around, he was alone.
Jace eased himself off the slab, pressing his palms flat against the stone to brace himself as he stood up with a shaky exhale. Jace walked to it, legs gaining strength. As he walked underneath the archway, his vision wavered. Looking up, he thought he saw a tower looming above him. It teetered and creaked as if it would topple within moments and Jace rushed out of the archway and down the corridor. Not even the stone walls could keep out the faint screams from reaching his ears. Jace shivered.
The corridor was narrow, his shoulders brushing against the sides of the walls. The stench of blood heavy in the air and Jace gagged. After another few hundred yards, the corridor got smaller until it became a tunnel. Forcing him on his hands and knees, he crawled forward and extended his arms out in front of him. He could feel nothing; darkness pressed into him as the tunnel became so dark, he could no longer see in front of him. Jace wiggled, his torso only getting him so far as he tried to move. Swallowing back the lump in his throat, he inched along. His hands scraped the walls. Jace frowned. The walls didn't feel like stone anymore, but bark.
A sudden lash of sound made Jace shout out. Squinting, he could just make out murky light, and he grabbed at the thick shape in front of him. His hands hit wood. Fumbling, he finally found a firm grasp on a weighty branch and pulled himself forward. The light was blocked, with only a third of it coming through. Jace pressed his face against the bark, trying to peer through the cracks but he couldn't get a decent look beyond the thick branches. The end of the tunnel was obscured by a felled tree. Jace took a moment's rest before pushing at the branches.
No budging. Jace threw his shoulder into it, his weight attacking the mass of the wood. Cheek squashing the bark, the sharp edges of the branches scraping his nose and forehead. Jace almost got his eye poked out by a particularly sharp piece. It took him longer than he expected, but he managed to get the tree out of his way and crawled out of the tunnel. Jace concealed the opening of the tunnel, dragging the thick branches back where he found them. Jace turned around to look at his surroundings.
A muddied forest. He squinted, rubbing at his eyes. Everything seemed so...drab. Colors stayed at bled out and faded tones. Jace frowned. In fact, out of all his senses, smell was the strongest one despite its dullness. Jace stood up. The trees had minimum foliage, their bark black. Leaves of brown and orange littered the muddy ground. Murky clouds ghosted over the sky, with shafts of sunlight streaming through the trees. The sound of rushing water gentle and faraway to his ears. After a moment, Jace shrugged and headed towards the sound.
His feet crunched over the leaves as he walked westward. A sharp, high scream cut through the air. Jace stopped dead, tilting his head. It echoed but the source seemed to be coming from-
Something heavy slammed into him, landing on top of Jace. A faceful of wet leaves pressing into his face as flecks of mud splattered around his ears. Jace twisted, limbs kicking out until his foot connected with a face. The weight lifted from Jace and he scrambled to his feet. A tall, bulky man snarled at him. His clothes were dirty to the point that Jace could quite tell what he was wearing beyond the obvious jeans and jacket combination. The man was bald and covered in dirt and scars. Bulging black eyes zero'd in on Jace's face. With his lips pulled all the way back, a set of needle teeth were revealed, further distorting the face.
"Vampire." Jace snarled.
It snarled, thick throaty laughs as it advanced. The expected warrior-calm set over Jace as he shifted into a fighting stance, keeping his hands loose at his sides. They moved at the same time, Jace feinting and the vampire dashing forward. Jace whirled away from the outstretched arms and threw a punch, missing. Vampire grinned and punching him in jaw, Jace was sent flying. Flailing, he just barely landed on his feet, leaves skittering as he tried to keep his balance. The vampire rushed again, arms gripping his shoulders as Jace was hoisted into the air.
The vampire's mouth widened and Jace struggled harder but to no avail. There was little strength in his limbs. With a tug, he was brought closer to the vampire's mouth. Another high pitched scream. Both looked up in unison in time to see three more vampires tackle them. A tangle of limbs as Jace was dog piled into a vampiric mess. Each snarling vampire tried to grab at him and the weight of the vampires pressed Jace into the mud. Choking, Jace spun around, and wiggling out of the pile, ran.
The vampires gave chase. Sprinting, Jace blew past them. Out of the corner of his eye, a rocky outcropping jutting to his right and taking a leaping jump, slammed into the side of it. Air forced out of his lungs and wheezing, Jace almost fell before scrabbling up the sides of the rock face. Vampire screams carried on the wind and Jace climbed to the top of the outcropping and into a indent a few feet wide. Jace moved far back inside as he could. The vampires sounded so far away and his eyes were so heavy. Jace curled up and drifted off to sleep.
A sharp, high pitched screech shot through the air. Jace jolted awake. Squinting in the gloom, he sat up. The rocks scraped against his back and palms as he moved. He shivered in the damp that permeated the small outcropping. When those screeching cries grew farther away, Jace crawled out to greet a leaden sky. Dirt and pebbles scuttled down his feet as he descended back into the woods. Twigs cracked beneath him as he hurried forward.
He didn't know how long he walked, only that the sky above him seemed brighter despite the overcast hanging above him. Jace kept his ears pricked for the river, but he didn't hear it. He stopped when it became dark, finally hiding in a hollowed out base of a tree. Jace stayed awake all night. Small, beady eyes peered at him from the foliage and keeping still, Jace counted the pairs of eyes. He was surrounded. At least fifty. However, their numbers waned when it became lighter out, until they dissipated entirely. His limbs ached as he unwound himself into standing. Gritting his teeth, Jace swayed. Catching the branches out in front of him, he blinked away the spots in his vision.
Jace felt unusually weak. His lightheaded-ness didn't pass even as he stumbled along. He carried on like this for another day and then another, getting weaker all the while. For the first time in his life, Jace avoided the monsters he normally would have fought. Some carried crude weapons and others used only their teeth and claws. Either way, he could not engage. He did not trust his own strength to carry him through a fight. It even grew harder to walk. By midday his stomach hurt and he leaned against a tree to be violently sick.
He threw up until there was nothing left and he was dizzy with nausea. Jace groaned, spitting white little chips onto the ground. His teeth scattered onto the dead leaves with little thumps. Jace's eyes widened. His tongue swept around his mouth, examining the damage. The back teeth had fallen out. To top it off, his stomach gave him no relief, with a thudding pain coming in low and deep. Another wave of dizziness passed over him and he crawled into a cluster of felled trees., closing his eyes yet again. He prayed no one would find him.
When he came to, only a foul reek gave him a warning. Wrinkling his nose, he looked down to see that he had voided his bowels all over himself. Jace blinked. His field of vision seems grainy, even for this place. Objects blurred into vague shapes. It was easier to hear at the moment. He could smell, taste, and feel the layer of grime coating him. Cold panic seeped into him and he couldn't control his shivers. Jace scoffed, face contorting further he he shifted downward to sit up. Warmth spread even wider, the squish of shit seemed to echo through the forest. Jace gagged. A howl-werewolf-called in the distance. Jace edged out of his hiding place with a groan.
An answering howl rose up and Jace's head whipped towards the sound. Jace bared his teeth as heavy footfalls thudded a few hundred feet behind him. More than one set. He be surrounded within moments if he didn't pick up the pace. Legs burning, muscles clenching and spasming in protest, he limped past the trees. Snarling shot through the air, twisting high up and mingling with each other so that it became one tremendous noise. Sight wheeling, Jace stumbled, feet skimming over the ground to hit the air. A steep drop and Jace pinwheeled down the sheer hillside. For once, he didn't land on his feet. Rocks slammed into his back and he looked up in time to see the werewolves gather at the top of the hill.
They took their time going down and Jace got to his feet, spinning around to head into the river not five feet away from him. Water went up to his knees as he tried to wade as quick as he could. He could only see a couple hundred yards in front of it at a time. The frothing water guided him forward. A modest waterfall cascaded down a pool, its natural enclosure of rocks and moss kept a circular shape, and raised in elevation. Little eddies and pools acted as stairs to get to the waterfall and Jace climbed up them, fingers curling into claws to keep a firm grip on the wet stones. Arms straining, he pulled himself out of the outstretched grasping of the werewolves below him. Their claws raked his ankles and calves.
Water splashed his face, running down his neck. Jace choked, hands slipping until he dangled over the edge of the pool. He could only look up; the spray from the falls looming above him hum he was almost dragged back down by the monsters. For just a moment, he sagged. Jace buried his face in the crook of his elbow before hoisting himself up into the pool and landing with a dunk. Submerged, Jace flailed and then went still. Water muffled the warbling of the werewolves. Lungs fit to burst, he finally emerged, treading water. Jace swam to the base of the waterfall and managed to crawl up to the small cave behind it.
He slumped, even as the werewolves climbed up the pools, advancing towards him. Jace's shivers racked his frame, the only movement in his otherwise limp body. Teeth chattering as the beasts came closer. They stood tall but he didn't move. Jace closed his eyes, a strange calm settling over him as he did so.
A hand settled on his shoulder. Jace jumped, chest still as a sudden roar stretched through the air. Jace squinted before his eyes widened in shock. Beside him was a young woman wearing a sheer white dress. Brown tresses came down in waves until it rested at the small of her back. In her right, a full grown male lion growling as he stood. Jace sucked in a breath. The werewolves froze, lion's gaze fixing them in place. Jace turned back to the woman. Her placid smile stilled him.
The lion roared again and the werewolves darted back and Jace stared at them, unmoving and silent as the creatures tried to advance. When they succeeded, Jace bowed his head. At the woman's touch, he looked back up. She stroked the lion's head. Her fingers stroked his mane. The lion settled and with one arm, the woman hauled Jace to his feet and shoved him into the waterfall. Spray bombarded his shoulders and he stumbled under its weight, hands outstretched. Moving past said spray under he was in the center of the falls. His hands hit metal. Jace frowned. A slim spiral staircase stood inside the center of the waterfall. The railing followed its stairs with their wraparound frame.
Jace grabbed the railing and hoisting himself up onto the stairs, began to climb on his hands and knees. Water sloshed against the sides and he climbed higher and higher until there was no more water, and he found himself on a pristine landing. Blinking, he could finally see obscured. Checking his mouth, he found all his teeth where they should be. He was dry and clean.
His surroundings were bare, white marble floor and walls. Jace peered down the landing. There was no bottom, just a never ending drop. Jace's vision tunneled as vertigo hit. There was no railing to prevent a fall. He pulled back. Turning around, he caught sight of a door, with no adornments what so ever. Jace stood up and oped it, stepping through. Spots danced along his eyesight. Not as if his own eyes were incorrect, but rather like he was staring at a TV with bad reception. The fizz in the air cleared and his surroundings changed.
Room after room greeted him. A series of different locations all connected together in a row, yet there were no doors to separate each one from the others. Each room was familiar to him. He knew he was what he assumed to be Heaven's hallway yet he was standing in the foyer of the New York Institute and the man standing in the center was-
"Alec!"
Alec didn't turn around. Jace went to his side, turning to face the other young man. Jace waved a hand in Alec's face, to no avail.
"There you are. Ready?"
Both turned in unison to see another Jace walk out from their mother's study. Alec's eyes lit up, a small smile on his face, and he straightened his back.
"Been looking for you." Alec said. "Isabelle's gone on ahead."
Jace patted his sides, feeling the weapons affixed on his person and nodded to Alec.
"Let's go."
Jace gave a little 'hm' as he watched Alec and his past self chatter as they went to the elevator and left. The foyer was quiet again, save for the grandfather clock ticking from a hidden corner. Jace wandered further in and found himself in front of the ajar door to Maryse's study. He peeked in to see Maryse at the desk, occupied with papers and files. She was as focused as ever, hair pulled back in a proper bun as she frowned, signing papers.
In the corner, Max was curled up in the armchair, reading a brightly colored manga. Jace's heart twisted at the sight of him. Max's face had a slight scrunch to it, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth as he hunkered down with his book, eyes wide as he was completely engrossed with his reading. Jace backed out of the room, tread silent as he left. The hall was long but it led to another room entirely. Now he stood in the Institute's kitchen. Watching his past self eating Christmas dinner with the Lightwoods. Music playing quietly from some out of the way corner. A woman crooning out a carol. Jace let the old conversations wash over him. Who was going to be in Idris and who wouldn't. The laughter of familiar stories and jokes.
He stayed for a little bit longer, memorizing their faces until he turned to the next doorway, to find himself somewhere else. A fight in a warehouse with the LIghtwood siblings. Another fight between himself and some forsaken. It made his heart pump just watching. While he said nothing, he did a running commentary on his technique in his mind. However, he dragged himself away. He went into a couple more memories. A rare trip to Idris, its beauty stopping him in his tracks and he fled this memory quicker than most.
Jace found himself in a familiar bedroom. Amatis's guest bed. Clary and Jace together in frantic movement and Jace was unable to tear his gaze away. The way Clary gasped his name, smiling at him with the softest expression. Shafts of moonlight illuminated her face, lighting up her tresses, and giving them a kind of pale fire. Jace watched himself stroke her face and she mewled. Unable to help it, he reached out to touch her. His hands were insubstantial, but when Clary shut her eyes, he pretended that it was due to him. Jace imagined the softness of her skin, that he knew she had. He continued to watch long after they had finished and were just embracing as they drifted off to sleep. Jace smiled as Clary snuggled closer to his past self. It only grew wider when he had kissed the top of her head.
His stare meant nothing to the two lovers. Hew was merely an interloper, a ghost. Jace wavered as the moonlight hit their bodies, both now in deep sleep. Swallowing back the lump in his throat, he finally had to close his eyes and not look behind him as he walked through the door. As soon as he stepped over the threshold, he was blasted with cold air and bright lights. Jace opened his eyes and reeled at the at the new found sight.
He was in a large, circular room so white that it hurt his eyes. The stone-if it was in fact stone-that he stood on was floating on its own. White, flat pillars, or obelisks loomed in a circle, enclosing the floor like a fence. At least fifty of them. Keeping the blackness at bay. They had a certain glow to them, a whisper of sound pricking his ears. Across from him was a form.
It seemed to writhe and keep still all at once. Large and yet only as tall as he was. It was the world and yet it was a man. Carrying a trumpet in one hand. It was long, slim, and golden. Robes flowed down and Jace caught a glimpse of bare feet before he had to look away. Words appeared to permeate the air. Instead of being spoken, were plucked out of thought and put directly into Jace's mind.
"It is almost complete and your path clear. Pass these gates and walk horizon of eternity to the limitless not to return."
Jace was unable to speak, so he just nodded. Arms outstretched and seemed never ending. Jace flinched back but the being grabbed its trumpet and blew. Sound cut through the air, sharp enough to hurt and Jace shook as the hairs on his arms and neck stiffened like there was static in the air. The ground shook and Jace crouched down, hands clapped over his ears. Images flashed through his mind, too quick to discern. It was over within moments. Jace stood up and found himself alone. Now a pathway to a bridge had opened up right across from him.
Jogging forward, he passed the blazing bars of light to walk along the narrow bridge. It had no railing or support, just a long, flat column of stone wide enough for a person to pass single file. However, Jace could only feel it beneath his feet and not see it. In fact, he couldn't see anything. For the darkness pressed upon him on all sides. It was the color black, close to construction paper, in the sense that it had no depth from shadows but a flat blackness that kept him from straying. No sound of his footfalls marked his passage and even his own thoughts seemed muffled.
Jace kept walking ahead, unsure of how much time had passed. Rubbing his arms, he struggled to keep his thoughts in place. Jace only had a vague sense that he was close, as sounds were beginning to return. Even light-sensing the end, Jace picked up the pace.
Clary. Jace halted. As if by magic, when he thought of Clary, he turned back to look behind him. For a split second, he could have sworn that she was there, and then his spirit fled. Jace found himself in a bedroom and amidst its clutter, resting in the center of the bed was-
"Clary."
His voice shook, barely more than a whisper. Clary stirred and Jace held his breath, leaning forward, shoulders tense until she opened her eyes and saw a flash of green. Clary frowned, doing a little double take as she stared up at him. Her expression hadn't quite settled into something readable. Shaking, Jace reached out a hand and-
Like a rubber band, he was snatched back to the bridge. The speed shredded at him and he barely had a chance to stand before he was flung into the empty and his soul dissipated as if it never existed.
SPNTMI
With a small croon, Clary rubbed at his eyes, and sat up. Looking around, she was alone in Bobby's spare bedroom. Groggy, she shook her head, trying to clear the vague sense that she was missing something. Clary cleared her throat, sudden pain flaring in her chest. A kind of burning that lingered. Wincing as she moved, Clary eased herself out of bed with a bit of a sway in her stance. When the dizziness passed, she walked downstairs to find it empty. Frowning, Clary padded out to the garage outside and found everyone surrounding a tall, gaunt man seated by the work bench, with only Dean seated opposite him. Her foot nudged a car bumper and everyone looked up at her approach.
However, the stranger's gaze went right through her. She went cold all over as a sensation not unlike deja vu crept into her thoughts. As if an entire lifetime of feelings, memories, and relationships were filling her up to the the point that she could no longer discern the point of origin. All she knew was that looking at this man, no this stranger, was the cause of it all. Then the sensation passed, leaving her unsure of what transpired, only that she had left something behind.
"Sorry." she said. "So whose this? What's going on?"
He turned his knowing gaze away.
"That my dear, is Death." Magnus said.
"Death?"
Dean flinched, surprising Clary enough that she only took a cursory glance at the faces of the others. She looked down, just now noticing the Horseman rings on the table and that a fourth one had been added, a little ways off. Her eyes widened and she found herself unable to speak. Nodding, she went closer so that she stood shoulder to shoulder with Jocelyn, who cradled Eden until Clary gestured for her daughter, and held her to her chest.
"Catch me up?" Clary asked.
Bobby cleared his throat. "Death was just tellin' us that he's bound to Lucifer and isn't too pleased with that. Oh and the devil's set up shop in Detroit." he said.
"So what are we waiting for?" Clary asked. "I thought that the rings opened the cage-"
"It's forcing him back in that's the problem." Sam interrupted. "He won't just let us put him back inside and we don't have a whole lot of options-"
"But the rings-" Clary started.
"That is assuming I just hand mine over." Death said.
Everyone froze and Death kept speaking as if he hadn't noticed.
"I will assist you by giving my ring on the condition that Sam does his part in any way he see's fit."
Like spectators for a tennis match, everyone turned to look at Sam, who to his credit, held up under the scrutiny. Dean in particular looked aggrieved.
"Sam?" Dean asked, impatience and suspicion in his voice. "Something you want to tell us?"
Sam squirmed for a moment before straightening and speaking. "We go to Detroit, bring the key, and I say yes." He held up a hand, saying the rest in a rush. "You guys open the cage and I jump in. If worse comes to worst, you'll have to force me in. We've got just enough numbers for that."
"No." Dean's voice was stony.
"Dean-"
"I said no."
"It's the end of the world." Sam shouted. Dean pulled back and Sam softened his voice. "This is my choice."
"You think you can do it?" Isabelle asked.
Dean rounded on her, opening his mouth, when Sam cut him off with a nod.
"We have enough numbers that this doesn't have to be our first option." Bobby said.
"But not a guarantee." Sam countered. "I know. I'd rather not have anyone force me down there, but need to do this with minimum casualties." He turned to Death. "I'll do it."
Death and Sam stared at each other for a few minutes longer before Death gave a brisk nod. "Very well." he pushed his ring closer to the other three. "I expect this back."
With that, Death sat up and disappeared. Bobby bowed his head as Dean began to shout.
"You can't just-"
"Sounds like he made his choice."
Everyone whirled around yet again, heads turning to face the new speaker. Sam's eyes widened.
"Gabriel. How'd you-"
"Escape Michael and the God squad?" he shrugged. "Wasn't easy but I shook em' off. Why else would it have taken me this long to get back here?"
Sam shook his head. "Unbelievable."
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "So I've been told." he sobered. "We still have enough of a chance to win." he said.
Dean glowered at Gabriel.
"Let's take this back inside." Bobby said. "I got my maps and equipment in there."
Everyone else began to move and speak as they all filed and trudged their way back. Once inside Bobby's study, the atmosphere shifted into a more business-like efficiency.
"When do we leave for Detroit?" Jocelyn asked.
"As soon as it's light out." Bobby said. "We've been runnin' on fumes and that won't do anyone any bit of good. Ya'll-" he pointed to Sam and Dean. "Look dead on your feet. We battle plan now and then get a few hours shut eye." he said. He spared no one from his glare. "That understood?"
Some scattered nods and a few murmurs of assent.
"Good." Bobby said.
The moonlight filtered in from the large windows, but was diluted as Ellen turned on a few more lights. Clary put Eden to bed and found her sketch pad, with the declaration that she was going to give out runes. She set to work. Simon went into the kitchen to make dinner as Bobby, Magnus, Ellen, and Jocelyn poured over maps and blue prints of Detroit. Alec began to organize and prepare the weapons. Isabelle assisted him for a bit before joining Jo in cracking open a couple of beers. Pretty soon Gabriel and Balthazar joined them. Chuck dozed on the couch. Together, a plan was hashed out and face a few revisions until it was for the most part, satisfactory.
Gabriel called their remaining angel forces-all ten of them-of the plan. With this complete, Sam slipped outside, avoiding the angels as he did so, and moments afterwards everyone else dissipated to be left to their own devices. Simon informed everyone that dinner was ready to those who wanted it and they could serve themselves. Dean could barely stomach anything, but he grabbed two beers and headed outside.
The warm breeze hit his face as he let the screen door slam behind him. Cicadas chirped, unseen but close by. He swallowed down the heaviness in his chest and headed out to the sea of cars. Moving past the junked clunkers and rusted spare parts, soft voices reached his ears. Dean picked up his pace and turned past a dented frame of an Oldsmobile. The conversation got a little clearer.
"I know why you fell."
"You do?"
Anna and Cas. Dean was brought up short by the tone in Cas's voice. Equal parts wary and confused.
"How so?" Anna asked.
"You know, when I first learned of your fall, I didn't believe it. I didn't want to. To me, you were the strongest of us. I thought that if I ever saw you again, I would tell you how much of a disappointment you had become. That you fell for such selfish reasons-" he broke off with a sigh. "Now I realize I was the selfish one. For sending you back to Heaven when I was confused. After I asked you for answers and you told me to think for myself." Cas said.
Anna gave a little laugh as if remembering an old joke. "Alright so maybe for slightly different reasons. But, you gotta admit, this place has its perks." she said.
There was a pause and for some reason, the hairs on the back of Dean's neck stood up. The silence seemed significant somehow, not just the tone or content of teasing. Something told Dean not to take it at face value. He could almost picture the expression on Cas's face and then Cas spoke again.
"Yes. Yes, that's why I'll do what I can to make sure our plan succeeds."
"Is that why you're feeling better?" Anna asked, her voice contemplative. "I mean, in the sense that you don't seem as upset as you did when Joshua spoke to us."
Dean froze, sucking in a breath. He was surprised that Anna broached the subject at all, but he kept still as he waited for Cas to speak.
"I didn't expect that. That I could get past that. I'm still not sure how any angel does. Maybe I'll change my mind after all this is over and when I can afford to think deeper on it." He took a breath, as if steeling himself for a blow. "I'm not sure I can ever believe in Him again after hearing that. In fact, I think I'm too angry to do so. Angry enough to take charge of myself in a way I've never had to before. So I won't beg for his assistance-I'll do what he will not do-protect Dean. Those boys-protect them all." his voice hardened. "Something I've done a better job at, if I do say so myself."
Anna laughed but Cas went on, voice gaining strength, as if he himself was coming to a realization.
"So no, I don't regret whet I've done. Because this world is worth protecting."
Another long pause.
"See?" Anna's voice held something strong in it. "That right there? That's why I forgive you. Why I think this'll all work out. It has to."
"I hope so."
"I know so. I also know that this isn't something you should keep to yourself." Anna said.
Dean gave a little jump, almost not catching Cas's confused reply. Figuring he had been found out, he shrugged and turned the corner to see the two angels. Anna and Cas were leaning against the bed of Clary's truck, its little gate pulled down. Dean cleared his throat.
"Sorry. Ah, just looking for Sam." he said.
Anna gave him a brief but warm smile. "I'll get him for you."
She hurried off before either could protest and then they were alone. Cas rubbed the back of his neck as Dean walked closer over. He held out a beer and Cas took it.
"I take it you heard all that." Cas said.
"Err...yeah, sorry bout' that." Dean untwisted the cap of his beer and took a swig."
"Don't be. It's as I said."
"Still." Dean cleared his throat. "I know that uh, that doing that-rebelling-that's draining your batteries; the more you human you get. I know that scares the crap outta you, but uh, just know, no matter what I like you as is."
"Likewise."
Dean's frown of confusion was brief but has such consternation contained within it that it gave Castiel pause.
"Why?" Dean asked.
Cas fully turned to stare at him, saying nothing. Dean fidgeted under the full weight of the scrutiny. The angel frowned, but Dean had a inkling that it wasn't directed at him per se. No, it was as if Cas could see right through him. The corner of Cas's eyes crinkled. Not quite a smile but no longer a frown. It made Dean's stomach flip flop between dread and anticipation for the angel's words. Castiel took his time in answering, the air heavy enough for a tangible charge.
"Because I held your soul in my hands and it forever altered my fate. I'm at peace with that."
Dean waited for him to continue but Cas had finished speaking, looking as calm as Dean had ever seen him. Dean gaped at him. The sincerity alone made him rock back on his heels. Dean dragged his gaze away from Cas, unable to meet that gaze any longer. He knew his expression had gone slack as he seemed to Castiel as if the other man was grappling with something. Dean took a long, protracted gulp of his beer before clearing his throat. His laugh had a tinge of hysteria.
"Well that's one way to have a conversation." he said.
"I supposed so." Cas answered.
"So..."
"So."
"Got any plans?" Dean asked.
Cas, sensing the joke, smiled.
SPNTMI
A rough hand on his shoulders and his name repeated enough times, made him realize Bobby was shaking him awake. Dean shifted, rubbing his eyes. Pale, purple light telling him the sun was just on the horizon. The metal of the truck bed digging into his back. His hand flopped. He meant to grab Cas's shoulder but his fingers smacked into an empty beer bottle. Dean looked up into Bobby's face. The older man's usual scowl replaced by dire worry.
"Sam's gone."
Dean bolted up, ice running down his spine. Bobby continued.
"Took one of the spare cars and the sword."
Dean pushed himself off the truck, the movement waking Cas, who twisted around to regard them with a puzzled expression. Bobby repeated himself with a growl and Dean took out his cell phone to dial Sam's number. He listened for a moment before hearing the jingle from his brother's cell.
"The garage." he said.
He jogged to it, Bobby and Cas right behind him. Dean found Sam's phone lying on the work bench next to an old tool box.
"Everything else still here?" Cas asked.
"I checked. The sword was the only thing he took." Bobby replied.
"Son of a bitch." Dean held up Sam's cell phone. "Stupid, stupid kid."
He looked at the screen, the way it flashed a notice for missed messages. Dean frowned.
"Let's round everybody up. Sam's probably got a couple hours lead on us." Bobby said.
Dean didn't answer, following the two of the, out of the garage. Dean scrolled through Sam's messages. Notifications for a voicemail came up, it's date months old. Dean's foreboding increased, pressing his ear to the phone, and he played the message. His own voice greeted him. The cold finality of it stopping him in his tracks.
"Listen to me, you blood sucking freak. Dad always said I'd either have to kill you or save you. Well, I'm giving you fair warning. I'm done trying to save you. You're a monster, Sam-a vampire. You're not you anymore and there's no going back."
The message ended with a click. Dean dropped the phone on the ground, concrete cracking the plastic screen. Sounds faded as blood rushed in his ears, heartbeat overwhelming him. The hatred within those words crashing all around and Dean gagged. Spots dotted across his him, obscuring his sight, and he swayed. He wasn't sure how he was staying upright. Dean was vaguely aware that Bobby and Cas had stopped moving and were staring at him. Much in the same way that he could feel the blood draining from his face. Dean tried to move, to over take them.
"We gotta go-now-hurry it up!" he shouted.
Bobby grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing Dean to look him in the eye.
"Take a breath son."
Dean glared but his as he was told, and the shaking in his muscles slowed as they made their way back to the house. Cas and Bobby roused those who were still asleep as the latter filled everyone in.
"That idiot." Gabriel snarled.
Dean glared. The archangel had no business sounding that upset, but he said nothing and Gabriel offered no further comment. In the flurry of activity, Clary stood up, holding her sketchbook aloft.
"Everybody line up and get your marks."
"What?" Dean snapped.
The nephilim and Magnus gaped at her.
"I thought normal humans couldn't withstand those." Jo said.
Simon frowned, although he looked thoughtful. "What did you do?" he asked.
"I made some new runes." Clary held up a hand. "Hey, we're in a hurry, so here's the short version. After I marked Simon with no bad effects, I realized that I could make a rune that would bypass that particular drawback." She held her stele up. "A rune that can be used on everyone by everyone and one that requires a partner. Two people who can access each others abilities and strengths. It took me awhile to figure out how that could work, but I've got it. I call it alliance. Now, you've got to mark your intended partner for it to be used."
"Friggin' fascinating." Dean said. "What the hell? I'll do it."
Clary nodded, shoulders slumping in brief relief. Flipping open her sketch pad, she found the page she was looking for. One that had a single design inscribed on it. Lines curling and tangling together to form an intricate knot. Clary passed along the sketchbook and stele to Dean.
"Try the forearm." she said.
Dean nodded, rolling up his sleeve. He gestured to Cas.
"Ok, lay it on me." he said.
Cas blinked, a second's hesitation before he put the stele to Dean's skin. Dean winced as the tip dragged along his flesh, a slight burn trailing from the instrument. It stood out, bright against his skin, even as he traded off with Cas. The angel's eyes widened at the mark's energy and Dean applied it quickly. The effect was immediate as each respective mark glowed. Dean did a double take.
"Woah. That's intense."
Bobby snorted. Everyone began to pair off. Alec and Magnus, Isabelle and Jo, Simon and Ellen, Jocelyn and Bobby. As Cas and Dean continued to stare at each other, the stele was passed to Jocelyn and Bobby. Alec and Magnus conversed as they waited for their turn.
"Alec, are you sure it is wise to partner with me? My magic has been halved-"
"Exactly. So you could you my abilities now more than ever."
"Don't forget, I've got other runes." Clary spoke up. "Due to the nature of alliance, its the only rune that will work on everyone here and only then for a few hours."
Isabelle pulled out an unused seraph blade and handed it to Dean. "Here, I have a feeling that you;ll need it more than me."
Dean stared at it before pocketing it with a nodd of thanks. Clary grew pale, leaning against the kitchen table. Jocelyn and Simon went to her side, but she gave a little wave with her hand.
"I'm fine." she panted. "Don't worry about me, just got a little dizzy."
She gave each of them a smile. Jocelyn and Simon traded looks. Neither seemed particularly convinced but both dropped it. Alec flipped to another page in the sketchbook.
"What's this one?" he held the book aloft.
"Oh. Fearless." she said.
"Huh." Alec nodded to himself.
Gabriel watched all of this with a neutral expression and continued to do so as everyone gathered their necessary things and moved outside. Clary followed them out, insisting they take the sketchbook with them as everyone piled into either her truck, the impala, of Ellen's jeep. Gabriel wandered into the back of the impala, ignoring Dean's glower. Dean, for the most part, was silent as he turned on the ignition and peeled out of the driveway. Wheels screeching and churning gravel beneath them before barreling down the road. Only a mindless chanting in his thoughts.
'Hang on, Sammy.'
SPNTMI
TBC...