Fallen
Book 1: Angels, Angels, Everywhere
Chapter 4
- Oathsworn -
Bobby sat in his wheelchair in the panic-room, watching the angel trapped within the circle of fire. She was sitting cross-legged once more, her eyes flickering silver as she 'channel surfed.' The boys had returned with Cas the day before, and Bobby had listened to their recount of what had happened at Yellow Creek. He'd then told them what Avariel had told him, about her vessel and how she had come to possess it.
Tensions had been high. Castiel had disappeared after that, claiming he needed to be elsewhere, and when another hunter had called Bobby with a report of demonic activity in Wisconsin, the boys had volunteered to go and check it out. None of them had come to see Avariel, and she hadn't asked to see them, either. She had been silent for the past twenty four hours, and merely sat there watching the world go by.
"Is there anything interesting going on out there?" he asked her.
Her posture did not change in the slightest, nor did her eyes. "Too much, I'm afraid. Would you like to hear about the saddest thing I have witnessed this day?"
He suspected he wouldn't like to hear it, but he was trying to get her to open up more. "Alright," he agreed.
"A species of orchid just went extinct in Brazil. It had yet to be discovered by humans, and so it had no name. It was rare, and beautiful, and it could have cured cancer, in the right hands. But it stood in the way of progress. In six months, cattle will roam the bare grassy earth where once lived one of this planet's treasures. And, because it is gone, a species of insect which was reliant upon its nectar will die too. This will negatively affect the numbers of local birds which fed upon the insect, and the species will decline. The thing about food webs is that you cannot remove one thing without affecting others. Sometimes, the removal of one species begins a chain reaction. And this is not the first time it has happened."
"Maybe we'll find another way to cure cancer," he offered.
Avariel turned her silver eyes to his face, and he could tell she was not pleased.
"You know, there are times when I feel that perhaps Lucifer was right. All your species does is wantonly destroy. You are such selfish children that you cannot even conceive the harm you are doing to this planet. How many species would flourish, I wonder, if humans were removed from the equation? Nature has balances, you know. One species of animal or plant would never destroy another completely, because nature is inherently symbiotic. Humans are the exception to this rule. A flower, no matter how pretty, has no use to you if it is in your way. So you destroy it, and condemn not only yourselves, but countless other species. For this, for making me feel... sympathy... for Lucifer, I hate you. All of you. And yet I will continue to defend you, because it was the will of my Father, and I have to believe that he has some grand plan for you."
Bobby was shocked. All Avariel had done so far was to speak of how she admired and loved humanity. To hear a different tune from her was surprising, to say the least. It made him wonder whether she was being at all honest with him, or whether she had only been telling him what he wanted to hear. He decided to play along, to see what else he could get out of her.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to imply that other species are unimportant."
"I forgive you," she said. "It is not your fault. You cannot help what is in your nature, just as we cannot help what is in our nature. My Father must have created us all as we are for some greater purpose. To us, he gave knowledge, but left little room for change and growth. To you he gave ignorance, perhaps hoping that you would learn to find your own way. Limited as you are, you cannot perceive the world as I do. Maybe that is why I am here. Maybe it is my job to teach you. I just wish I knew what God wanted of me."
"Are you okay?" he asked, suddenly concerned. Her moods tended to shift quickly; sometimes she was like a child, eager to tell him stories, eager to answer his questions. Sometimes she was like a young woman, aware of her own appeal, showing a willingness for manipulation. Sometimes she seemed to revel in antagonising others, in mockery and humour. But he had never seen her waxing philosophical before. He'd never heard her offering sympathy for the devil, or questioning why God had created humans. He'd never heard her doubt herself, or her Father's plan for the world.
"No, I am not okay," she said sharply. "My friends, my family, are all dead. My vessel has emotions that I do not know how to cope with, and I am stuck in this circle, impotently watching whilst people die, whilst species go extinct, and whilst Lucifer steps ever closer to his apocalypse. All I wanted to do was come to Earth and help people. To know what it is like to walk amongst you. To give my life to protect my Father's work. I would be better off dead, than trapped in this prison, tortured by the knowledge that the Earth is going to Hell and there is nothing I can do but Watch. Grigori died for this. It isn't fair."
"Welcome to life," he said. He knew he sounded bitter, but he couldn't help it. "Do you know what isn't fair? Me being stuck in this chair, whilst my friends risk their lives. I would give anything to be out there, helping them, fighting demons and monsters, protecting the people who don't have any clue that any of this exists. But this was my choice. I made it, and now I'm stuck with it. Do you hear me belly-aching about how unfair it is? No. I just get on with trying to help in any way that I can."
"Admirable," Avariel said. "And fortunate for you, that the people you care about trust you. I allowed my friends to die, I broke the law of Heaven, and I risked everything to save Sam and Dean. And even though I have lost everything I ever cared about, they still don't trust me. They still keep me here, powerless, because they are too small-minded to believe that I want to help. If you had any heart at all, you would call on Castiel and have him kill me now, rather than leave me to suffer here, a silent witness to the crimes being committed in my Father's name." She stood up, a frightening smile on her face. "Or maybe I'll just do it myself. Would I earn your trust by throwing myself into the flames of my prison? If I end my life, will it prove to you that I am being honest? I would rather die than watch Lucifer destroy the world and ruin my Father's work."
He looked at the angel in disbelief. How desperate was she, to say these things? How much did it hurt her, to sit caged within the fire, a witness to all that was happening in the world? How long would she remain, if she thought that freedom was not an option? Her words were not those of a well-adjusted individual. "You're crazy," he accused.
"A little, yes," she replied. "I have hundreds of thousands of years worth of observations stored inside the head of a hairless ape without the mental capacity to process it all. You try holding onto that and remaining perfectly sane. If you ask me, I'm doing rather well, so far. I try to remember the important things; Passenger pigeons. The plague. Steam engines. Penicillin. Shakespeare. Gunpowder. Ad infinitum. I've already had to let go of the less important memories. I just hope I haven't lost anything that will come back to haunt me."
"Are you saying that you're forgetting everything that you once knew?"
"Not everything," she said with a casual shrug. "Most things, I remember. But my vessel was never designed for long term memory storage. Perhaps this is why grigori were forbidden from taking vessels. Perhaps we burn them out too quickly. Don't worry, though. I have plenty to let go of. Small memories which do not affect the larger picture in any way. I will retain anything I believe to be of importance."
"Alright," he said. What else could he say? The angel in his basement appeared to be a ticking timebomb of memories. What would happen to her if she couldn't let go of enough of them?
She seemed to sense his thoughts, and smiled, her silver eyes flashing brighter momentarily. "Do not worry about me, Bobby. The human brain is a wonderful thing. If only you knew the potential of your species, you might not waste your time with petty squabbles and wars. I can contain almost all of my knowledge, and leave my vessel completely undamaged by it. I am merely... frustrated. I want to help. It pains me, inside my chest, to be forced to sit here, doing nothing."
"Do you know what happened to the boys in Yellow Creek?"
"Yes, I was Watching," she confirmed. "They performed admirably. I never doubted them for even a moment."
"Have you had any other... visions? Of people who need help, I mean?"
"Everybody on this planet needs help," she said. "Right now, in England, a family is being drained by vampires. In Canada, a wendigo stalks a group of campers. In Australia, a swimmer is being dragged beneath the waves by a shark. Werewolves stalk the land in Romania. Something you call a chupacabras is killing goat-herders in Mexico. A bus crash in Spain just killed a class full of school children. A Scottish Kelpie had just drowned a man. Three dark witches in Russia are sacrificing newborn infants. Should I continue?"
"No," he said. The room suddenly felt much colder, despite the holy fire burning within it.
"I am but one angel, and you are but one hunter. Even if I told you of all the wrongs which need righting, you would never be able to stop them all. We must pick our battles, Bobby. We must choose the ones we can win, and hope that the others can be fought by different champions. The time will soon come when I will need to be set free. I cannot abide this circle for much longer. I can die, or I an be your ally. It is your choice. I suggest you speak to the Winchesters when you are able. Perhaps we will talk again soon."
Avariel sat down again, her silver eyes focused on something else now. He knew he would get no more conversation from her. She had given them all she ever would, at least until they came to some decision about her. He just hoped the boys would return from Wisconsin sooner, rather than later. If Avariel decided to take matters into her own hands, he suspected he wouldn't like the outcome.
o - o - o - o - o
Dean ran through the forest beneath the light of the full moon. He heard the beast chasing him, the sound of its feet pounding the bare earth with its every stride. It was gaining on him. He knew it without even having to look back. His ancestors, living in caves and sharing their environment with larger, more dangerous predators, had developed what some might call a sixth-sense, an ability to know when danger was near. Most humans, made soft by the comforts of civilisation, had lost that sense, or it had diminished to such an extent that when it happened as a 'gut instinct', they ignored it. In Dean, and those like him, who hunted monsters every day of their lives, the sense was finely honed, and right now it was telling him to run for his life.
The gun in his hand was useless. He had fired all of his rounds at the creature hunting him, but still it came, and he had no more ammunition. He didn't know what the beast was, hadn't been able to get a good look at it. All he knew was that it was fast, smart, deadly, and needed more than a few bullets to put it down. He needed silver bullets, or an axe, or rock-salt. He wasn't sure which. Where the hell was Sam? Why wasn't his brother here with him, helping him to figure out what this thing was, helping him to kill it?
His heart pounded in his chest as he ran, mimicking the rhythmical pounding of the beast's feet. His lungs began to burn and his legs felt afire as he sprinted as fast as he could. In the darkness, he did not see that, to his left, the ground fell away down a steep-sided bank. Running full-pelt, he came too close to the edge, lost his footing, and slipped. Down and down he tumbled, bounced painfully on the ground, his limbs hitting the trunks of trees as he spun out of control, ferns and brambles scratching at his face. He was dimly aware of his body aching, but he banged his head, and thinking became a little harder. When at last he came to a stop he lay bruised and exhausted, panting rapidly, trying to bring his limbs back under his control.
There was a smell of something foul and sulphuric, and a warm gust of wind blew across his face. Rolling onto his back, he looked up into the demonic, twisted face of a hellhound standing over him. The monster opened its jaws wide, and Dean closed his eyes.
When pain and death did not come, he opened his eyes, and saw the full moon in the sky. It bathed the trees around him in its silvery light, and the air was still, silent. The beast was gone.
He sat up and looked around. What had happened? Had Sam come? Had his brother stopped the beast from taking him back to Hell? Had Sam succeeded, this time around?
"Dean," said a voice, and he looked around to see Avariel standing a short distance away. She was wearing a white dress, her hands clasped together in front of her, and looked quite pretty in the moonlight.
"Avariel?" he asked in disbelief. "What the Hell?"
"You are dreaming, Dean. A nightmare, I believe you call them."
"I told you not to enter my dreams," he said, standing up and brushing the leaves and twigs from his clothes and hair. His heart was still beating too fast, but he had the fear under control, now. "I'm fed up of being woken up by angels at stupid o'clock."
"It is not stupid o'clock, Dean. It is eleven o'clock in the morning."
"What? Are you kidding?" he demanded. He never slept that late, not even when he was laid up in bed with injury or illness.
"No, my sense of humour is not this low. I am sorry to wake you, but we must talk."
"About what? You seen another wholesale monster-slaughter that needs stopping?"
"No, not yet." She took a step towards him, but kept her hands clasped together. He was glad that her eyes were their usual blue colour; the silver Watcher-vision was more than a little freaky. "I believe I am now ready to leave my prison."
"Oh, you are, are you?" he scoffed. If she thought he was releasing her any time soon, she obviously didn't know a thing about him.
"Yes. I understand your apprehension, but I would like to discuss this matter with you in person. Please come and see me. I know you don't trust me. Bring Sam as well, if you like. And Castiel too, if it comforts you to have him there. Please, Dean. Come and speak to me."
He was pushed out of the dream less forcefully this time, and woke with only a small jump. Opening his eyes, he was met by the sight of Bobby's living room ceiling, suspicious brown spots and all. This living room had seen a lot of action over the years, and Dean doubted even a whitewash could get rid of all the stains.
Sitting up in his sleeping bag, he pulled the covers back and quickly checked out his clothes. Only slightly creased. That was good; he didn't believe in ironing. Didn't even own an iron. Sometimes he shoved a suit into a hotel press, but only when he was working a job which required him to impersonate somebody more respectable. He clambered out of the sleeping bag and pulled on his boots before making his way to the study. There, he found Bobby and Sam sitting at the large desk, a few books spread open around them.
"Whatcha doing?" he asked Sam.
"Research. Sometimes it feels like all we ever do." Sam looked up at him, his brown eyes full of concern. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine," he lied.
"There's some left-overs in the kitchen, if you want breakfast."
Dean shook his head. "Nah, not hungry."
"Not hungry? Are you sick?" Sam asked, only half-joking.
"No. But Ava just angel'd herself into my dream again."
"What'd she have to say for herself?" Bobby asked. He looked interested. Dean knew that Bobby had spent a fair bit of time talking to the angel; it wasn't as if there was much else for him to do, being wheelchair-bound. In a way, Dean was glad Avariel was stuck in the basement, because her presence gave Bobby something to think about, and gave him company when he and Sam had to go out working. But at the same time, he knew that the angel couldn't be trusted—he believed Cas's judgement was sound—and he was leery of leaving Bobby alone with her for too long. There was no guessing what things she would tell him to try and win his sympathy.
"She wants out of her cage," he replied.
Sam took a deep breath and sat back in his chair. "I think that's not such a bad idea. No, Dean, let me finish. Avariel saved our lives. She came down here, breaking the rules which technically bound her to Heaven, to rescue us, and even when her friends were dying, she didn't abandon us. She's given us answers, and she's helped us to stop a village being massacred by barghests. I trust her. Enough to let her out, anyway."
"Of course you do," Dean said, though it came out more scornful than he had intended. "You see what she wants you to see; a pretty girl with a friendly angel inside her. Trust me, Sam, there's no such thing as a friendly angel. They all want something; all of them. If she's here now, it's because she's using us for some unseen purpose. They can't be trusted."
"What about Cas?"
"Exception to the rule," he replied.
"Dean," Bobby said, and Dean groaned. Bobby was like a second father to him, and he knew the man well enough to tell when an argument was impending. "We can't keep her here forever. Eventually, we're going to have to do something about her. The longer we put it off, the harder it's going to be. On all of us."
"Bobby," Sam said, his voice taking on a wheedling tone. "Do we even have to think about that?"
"Those are our options, Sam," the surly hunter replied, practical as ever. "We'll have to set her free one way or the other."
Dean took a deep breath. He didn't trust Avariel, but he hadn't truly thought about killing her. Now, the scene played out in his head. Avariel standing there in the ring of fire, watching as he approached to end her life. And it wasn't just the angel who would die; there was a girl in there, too: Katie. An innocent child who had barely even begun living her life. Bobby had told he, Sam and Cas about Katie after they'd returned from the barghest hunt. Unfortunately, he couldn't strike at the angel without striking at the girl.
"I'll call Cas," he said, and pulled his phone out of his pocket.
"Maybe we shouldn't," Sam said.
"What? Why the hell not?"
"I know why you want Cas here, Dean," Sam said. Dean hated his brother, at times. There was very little he could hide from Sam, with his stupid emotion crap and intuition. Sam continued to drive the point home. "If we decide not to free her, someone's going to have to kill her. You know Cas'll do it without hesitation or regret. It will be quick and convenient, and you won't have to think about having the blood of an innocent girl on your hands."
"Is there something wrong with that?" he snapped at his younger sibling. "He was more than willing to stop Anna, and the two of them had god knows how much history together. If he's fine with stopping yet another angel who wants to screw us over, I say let him. Besides, Avariel is a frigging angel. Do you think she's just going to stand there and let us end her life? We're going to need one of Cas's angel blades, and his help if she turns violent. You saw what she did to Zach."
Sam just shook his head, and Dean could tell his brother wasn't happy about any of this. Bobby didn't look thrilled with it, either. Sometimes, Dean felt as if he was the only one with an ounce of common sense. And because there were no more arguments, he dialled Castiel and said, "We need you at Bobby's."
"What's wrong?" Cas asked, appearing in a corner of the room.
"Avariel wants to talk about coming out of her cage," Dean said without preamble.
"Do not let her out," Cas warned.
"Why not?" Sam asked, sitting up and addressing the angel directly. "So far, the only reason you've been able to give us is that grigori aren't trustworthy. Yet this one has saved our lives, given us answers, and tipped us off about a hunt. Don't get me wrong, you're doing a fantastic job at making us all paranoid that she's going to knife us to death as we sleep, but shouldn't we at least give her a chance before condemning her to death?"
"Honestly? No," Castiel replied. "But I can see that the grigori has managed to manipulate you into sympathising with it. You'll do as you feel is necessary and want me to clean up whatever mess is left at the end. Is that right?"
"No," said Sam. "Dean, please. If you don't trust her, that's fine. Let me free her. She can be my problem. And if it goes sideways, I'll be the one to clean up the mess. Let it be on my head."
Dean closed his eyes as his head started to ache. It had been over twelve hours since he'd had anything to eat or drink, and he was feeling light-headed and stressed due to his recent nightmare. Inside, he felt torn. He understood where Sam was coming from; everybody deserved a chance to prove themselves. Avariel was no monster, she was an angel, and the usual rules of 'kill first, as questions later' didn't really apply to angels. But he also trusted Castiel's judgment on the matter. If Cas said the grigori could not be trusted, then to free her would basically be telling Cas that he did not trust his judgment.
"Look at us," said Bobby, sounding disgusted, "sitting around discussing killing Avariel and the body she's currently sitting in, playing at judge, jury and executioner. Shouldn't we at least give her a chance to speak for herself before condemning her to death?"
"Bobby's right," Sam said. No surprises there. "Let's just... talk to her. We owe her that much, at least."
"Fine," Dean said, already exhausted by it all. "Cas, you got that blade of yours close to hand?"
"Of course."
They all left the study and made their way to the stairs. None of them spoke. The tension in the air was heavy and palpable, oppressive. In the pit of his stomach, Dean felt cold and empty. Already, he was steeling himself for what had to come. He shut everything down, all of his feelings, what little was left of his emotions. This was the only way you could truly work as a hunter, he was starting to learn. If you let people in, you made yourself vulnerable, and he already had too many vulnerabilities; Sam, Bobby, Cas... The thought of losing his friends, the only family he had, made his insides twist painfully.
In the panic room, from within the circle of fire, Avariel watched them approach. The fire would burn forever, unless it was doused by a large quantity of water. It needed nothing to fuel it once the oil had ignited, and not even an arch-angel could pass through the flames without being destroyed.
"Ahh," Avariel said, as they approached the circle. "My firing squad arrives. Do I get a last request? One final meal? A black hood for over my head? Not that a hood would stop me from seeing, but it might make it easier for you."
"We're not here for an execution," Sam said, before Dean could stop him.
"Really? Then why the air of despondency? Did your puppy just die?"
"Avariel," said Bobby, rolling his chair forward a little, "we really would like to believe you. But we have... trust issues. The truth is, we have no idea what you'll do if we let you out of that circle."
"I will help you stop the apocalypse," she said confidently. "That is my long term goal, at least. In the short term, my plans are a little more... specific."
"What do you mean?" Dean asked her.
"Well, there are three things that my vessel does not wish me to do. One, eat chocolate sundaes, which I'm informed are deliciously calorific. Two, watch The Exorcist, because of its satanic themes, and three, have sex, which is very sinful when done before marriage. Therefore, these are my priorities upon being freed."
Dean stared at her for a moment. "You're telling me that the first thing you intend to do when you get out of your cage is to go on a hedonistic orgy of chocolate icecream, horror movies and sex?"
"I expect I'll have to work up to two and three, but chocolate icecream is a good place to start in the human experience," she said, and he realised that she was being one hundred percent completely serious.
"Why would you do things that your vessel... Katie, right?... doesn't want you do do?" Sam asked. He looked as confused as Dean felt.
"I have observed that these things are considered 'fun' by most humans, and that by denying themselves certain pleasures, the devout are proving their devotion to God, over such worldly things as chocolate, horror movies and sex. I wish to experience fun, and it's not as if Katie has anything to prove. There is a place in Heaven reserved for her regardless of what I do with her body."
"How could you have watched Star Wars from up on your cloud, but not The Exorcist?" Dean asked.
"I always suspected I might find a vessel for myself some day," she replied. "I wanted to save The Exorcist until I had a body to inhabit, so that I could experience the full extent of the horror the film is supposed to convey."
"Oh. Well, that's..." He shook his head, unable to think of a suitable word. "This is not a conversation I expected to have. Ever. Especially not with an angel."
"It changes nothing," said Castiel.
"Then let me make it easier for you," Avariel said, stepping forward, glaring frostily at Cas before turning her eyes on Dean. "I will swear an oath of obedience."
"And that's supposed to convince me... how?" Dean asked
"Enlighten him," Avariel said to Cas.
Castiel gave a small sigh. "An angel who swears an oath cannot break that oath without being struck down dead."
"So you'll swear an oath to serve me?" he asked her.
Avariel laughed, which sounded a little weird, and there was genuine humour in her eyes when she looked at him. "Oh Dean, you do say the funniest things. First of all, I said an oath of obedience, not servitude. Also, I would not submit to obeying you. I would be turned into your personal chef and/or sex slave in less than a week. No. There is only one person here I would consent to obey. And that is him."
Avariel pointed with her finger, and Dean turned his head, following the direction she was pointing in. Nobody looked more shocked than Bobby, when they realised Avariel was pointing at the old hunter.
"Me?" Bobby said, sheer disbelief plain on his face for all to see. "You'll swear an oath of obedience to me? Why the hell would you do a fool-crazy thing like that?"
"Because I have Watched you, Bobby Singer," Avariel said. "You are wise, and you have integrity. Those are qualities I can respect. And I would be less concerned about you abusing any oath I make to you."
Bobby turned to look at Castiel. "Is what she says true? Would she have to obey me, if she swore an oath like that?"
Cas gave a brief nod. "If it was sworn in the name of God, yes."
"I'm not sure I'm comfortable having somebody sworn to obey my every command."
"That is one of the reasons I chose you," Avariel admitted. "Well, you have my offer, and I cannot make a better one. Take it or leave it, the choice is yours."
"What do you think, Cas?" Dean asked his friend.
"This could work," the angel said reluctantly. "It was not something I had considered, because no angel has made such a vow in a very, very long time. But it should make Avariel easier to control."
"Standing right here," the grigori pointed out.
"Alright, Bobby," Dean said. "If you're willing to handle it, I'm not going to object." It was probably going to be a huge mistake, but it would at least buy them some time.
He watched as Bobby turned to the angel in the fire. "You have our answer, Avariel. Once you've made your oath, we'll set you free."
Avariel stood up a little straighter in the circle. "In the name of the Lord our God, my Father who created the Heavens and the Earth, I swear that from this moment henceforth I shall be obedient to you, Robert Singer, and shall obey any command that you speak, above and beyond the commands of the Host of Heaven, and I shall keep this oath until released from it by you."
There was a moment of silence as the finality of the oath sunk in. Then, Sam cleared his throat.
"Well. That sounded rather... serious."
"That should do it," Castiel agreed. "She cannot disobey now. Not without being struck down and killed."
"Do you want to do the honours?" Dean asked him, gesturing at the circle. The angel raised his hand and the flames died down.
Avariel stepped forward, finally free of the cage which had bound her since her capture. Seeing her out of the fire made Dean's skin tingle, and not in a pleasant way. He wondered if they really had made a mistake.
"Bobby," Castiel said, stepping up beside the grizzled hunter, "you should order her not to harm or betray you or Sam and Dean."
"What? Why?"
"She swore only to obey you, but mentioned nothing about protecting you from harm that she may or may not have caused."
"I would not harm them anyway," Avariel said.
"Make it an order," Castiel told Bobby firmly.
"Well, okay, if you insist. Avariel, I'm ordering you not to harm or betray anyone in this room. Happy?" he asked Cas.
"Now instruct her to speak only the truth to you."
"Avariel, you will only speak the truth to me," said Bobby.
"I will tell you no lies," she agreed amicably.
"Good," said Castiel. "Now, tell us how you managed to defeat Zachariah."
Avariel said nothing, but she glanced at Bobby, as if asking for permission.
"Please answer that question," Bobby said. "I'd like to know the answer, too."
"The spell I used is an ancient Enochian incantation," Avariel said, "which causes injury inflicted upon an angel to be reflected back upon the angel's attacker. It translates to 'Spell of Empathy' in this English language. Unfortunately for all of you, it can only be used by an angel, and only once. It is a measure of last resort which lasts twelve hours, and after that there is no way for the spell to be used again."
"And what is this?" Castiel said, holding up the longsword Avariel had used to cut Zach. Dean blinked at its appearance; he was sure his friend hadn't been holding the blade a minute ago.
Again, Avariel looked to Bobby.
To Dean, it was clear that Avariel was going to exercise her freedom in any way that she could, and in particular she seemed to delight in not having to answer to anybody but Bobby. He had to give credit where due, though; as soon as Bobby requested an answer, she gave him one. No pouting or sulking or sighing or rolling her eyes. She seemed resigned to the fact that she had to obey him.
"That is the Sword of Damocles," she said immediately.
"I thought that was just a myth," said Sam. "A prop from a moral story?"
"Just as angels are myths, and props from your bible?" she retorted. Dean wondered if that comment was aimed at him. He hadn't believed Castiel, at first, when his friend had claimed to be an angel.
"Refresh me on this Damocles thing," he said. "It rings a bell."
"Basically," said Sam, putting on his patient lecturer voice, "Damocles was a courtier of an Italian ruler. He fawned over his king, and exclaimed that because the king was in a position of power, that must mean he had the power to do as he wished. The king invited Damocles to dine at his table, and sit in his kingly throne. But over the throne, he dangled a sword, held aloft by a single horse-hair which was fastened to the ceiling above. Damocles spent the whole of the meal petrified that the sword was going to fall and kill him, and then begged to be allowed to leave. The king granted his request, and told Damocles that a sword dangled over the head of every powerful man."
"The more important you are, the more you have to lose, and the more you worry about losing it," Bobby summed up.
"It is a sword that cannot hurt a pauper, but would fell a king," Avariel said, sounding pleased with herself. "It was also angel-forged, so I knew it would harm Zachariah."
"Where did you get this?" Cas asked her.
She shrugged. "It's spent the past two hundred years as a museum piece in Australia. Don't worry, nobody will miss it. There is an identical replica in its place, now, the only difference being that it was forged by man and not angels. I would like it back, by the way." She held out her hand. Cas merely looked at her.
"Bobby," Avariel said, "I want my sword. Castiel already has a sword capable of inflicting more damage than mine."
"Fair's fair, Cas," Bobby said.
"Cas," Dean added, when his friend didn't move. "C'mon, man. You already have that kick-ass angel blade. You're not getting sword-envy just because hers is bigger, are you?"
"Size has nothing to do with the ability of a weapon," Cas said, failing to understand the not-so-subtle word-play. "Your demon-killing dagger is very small, for example."
"Just give her the damn sword," he growled.
Cas finally relented, and handed the weapon over. Avariel accepted it, and the moment she touched it, it disappeared.
"Before you ask, the blade is partially incorporeal," she explained. "It can be called into and out of being by the last angel who touched it."
"Y'know," Sam said, a thoughtful expression on his face. Which wasn't saying much, because he spent half his time looking thoughtful. "That spell and that sword... they were very clever ways to get around your lack of power in relation to Zach."
Avariel smiled. "Thank you, Sam. I like to think that what grigori lack in power, we make up for in intelligence. I knew that Zachariah would crush me like a... bug on a windshield? Is that the correct term?"
"Yeah."
"So I came with tools most suited to the battle. I could not hope to match Zachariah in strength, so I used his own strength against him. Do not misunderstand, though; I am not completely powerless. I am sure I can help in many ways in the battle against the apocalypse."
"Really?" Dean asked. She sounded like she was bragging, now. "Just what can you do?"
"Some of the things my bigger brothers can," she said. "Teleportation, obviously. I can heal myself, and if I wasn't cut off from Heaven I could probably heal others, too. I speak every language known to man, even those no longer in use. I can manipulate energy fields. I'm very good at controlling the weather, as you've seen. I prefer to micro-manage, though; I get about a mile radius of weather control around me. And, of course, I have my own little tricks."
"Such as?" Bobby asked.
"Watcher-vision," Dean said, realising he'd already seen one of her 'tricks' in action.
"Yes. I see more than the average angel. I can watch many things at once. I can also communicate with animals."
"What? Really?" Sam asked. Dean rolled his eyes at his little brother's excited tone.
"Yes. Doves as messengers? That's me. Little donkey carrying Mary? That's me. Or, well, grigori in general. Animals are a particular speciality of mine, though."
"Ahh," Bobby said. "I wondered what you meant, when you told me that you thought your vessel's desire to become a vet and help animals was the reason she was chosen for you."
Avariel treated him to a smile. "Indeed. I think that's about as much as I can do. Apart from being very strong, of course. And the singing."
"Singing?" Dean asked skeptically.
"All grigori can sing," she said, a serious look on her face. "Where do you think the term 'choir of angels' came from? Of course, if you heard me singing in my natural voice, your brain would probably implode, but I'm willing to bet I can make this vessel carry a tune. Maybe I can play musical instruments, too."
"What about tap-dancing?" he jokingly asked. She took the question as serious, however.
"I don't know. I could give it a try, I suppose. Anyway, are you and Judge Judy done with the questions for now?" she asked, glancing at Cas. He scowled, probably because he didn't understand the reference.
"I guess so. Unless you've got any questions for her, Bobby?"
"I'm fresh out of questions, for the moment."
"I have one," Sam spoke up. "Avariel, you can watch people all over the world, right?"
"Correct."
"You see actions, but can you see motives? Can you read peoples' minds?"
"No. And to be honest, I don't think I'd want to."
"You wouldn't want some mind-reading super-power?" Dean asked. He could definitely see the benefits of being able to read minds. Cheating at cards would become so much easier, for a start. He wouldn't have to worry about being lied to by anybody. He'd be a much more efficient hunter if he could read minds.
"It's called telepathy, ya idjit," Bobby grumbled.
"Whatever. But who wouldn't want that sort of power?"
"Anybody with an ounce of common sense," Avariel said. "The ability to lie is uniquely human. I have observed that people lie for a variety of reasons; to protect themselves and others, to spare somebody's feelings, to mislead an opponent... some of the reasons for lying are nefarious, and others are less so. I do not think humans would cope so well if faced with absolute truths. But perhaps my opinion will change once I have had more experience of being human. By the way, Bobby, I would like to use your shower now, please."
"What for?" Bobby asked suspiciously.
She gestured at herself, at the blood-soaked dress and her red-patchy skin. Of course, she'd been inside the circle for more than a few days already.
"Can't you just... zap yourself clean?" Sam asked her.
She shrugged. "I don't know. But that doesn't sound like fun. I would like to know what water feels like on my skin. Preferably warm water."
"Well, alright," Bobby agreed. "The bathroom is up the stairs, second—"
"I know where it is," she said. "But I will also need new clothes."
"What's wrong with the clothes you already have?" Dean asked her, eyeing the dress. He hadn't even known that angels could change clothes. Cas had never changed his clothes in all the time that Dean had known him. Nor had Zachariah.
Avariel gave him a level look, clearly not impressed with his question. "Apart from the fact that they're covered in my own blood? The dress has kittens on it, Dean. Kittens."
"I see your point."
"There's a trunk upstairs, in one of the spare rooms," Bobby said. "It belonged to Ellen and Jo... some of the stuff they left here the night before we tried to stop Lucifer from summoning Death. You're welcome to whatever's there."
Bobby's words angered Dean, and made the pounding in his head even worse. Scowling, he stepped forward. "You can't give her those," he said. "They're not yours to give away."
"Or yours to keep," Bobby countered. "What use are you or I going to ever have for womens' clothes? If Avariel can put them to good use, she can have them."
"Thank you, Bobby," Avariel said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a shower to experience."
She sauntered out of the panic room, and they heard her footsteps as she climbed the stairs, followed by the closing of the cellar door. Dean tried to fight back the uneasy feeling in his stomach over this whole situation. Despite her oath, he knew she had no true loyalty to anybody present in the room, and his experience, rogue angels were rarely a good thing.
"I will go and watch her," Cas said.
"What the hell for?" Sam demanded.
"Signs of treachery."
"In the shower?"
"Cas, you can't just go around watching girls in the shower," Bobby explained patiently.
"It is not a girl," Cas insisted. "It is a grigori."
"In a girl's body," said Sam.
"I wouldn't mind watching her in the shower," Dean said with a boyish grin. Sam aimed one of those looks at him.
"Nobody is watching anybody in the shower," said Bobby. "And that's final. Now come on, ya idjits. You can help me clean up in the kitchen, and then we can get back to research. This apocalypse isn't going to stop itself, you know."
o - o - o - o - o
Thick clouds of steam rose in the air of the bathroom, hitting the ceiling, bouncing along it, then tumbling down to the floor. It was a beautiful, lively dance, and Avariel watched the steam-clouds through the eyes of her vessel as she stood beneath the streaming shower.
Hot water, she was coming to realise, was amazing. The sensation of it evoked feelings of warmth and comfort in her vessel, and her muscles began to feel relaxed. She hadn't realised, until this point, just how tense her vessel had become, with nothing to do but sit or stand in a circle for days. Already she had used shampoo and shower gel, taking instruction from the memories of Katie, and was now simply enjoying the feeling of the water running down her body.
She had no idea how long she stood there for. All angels could monitor time and its passage, and Avariel was no exception; she simply didn't care about it, at the moment. To her own mind, there was little difference between ten minutes and ten years, but her mind was mostly inactive right now as she focused instead on the experiences of her body.
The initial wearing-in period hadn't been easy. Most of the time, angels preferred to spend a few days near a vessel, preparing the human for contact and eventual control. It made the process easier and more seamless for both parties. Forced to forego that luxury, Avariel had struggled with how to control her new vessel for the first few minutes, which had caused her to react slowly when confronting Zachariah. Separating the manual from the autonomous processes had been a challenge. She hadn't realised that she did not have to tell her vessel's lungs to inhale and exhale, the eyes to blink, the heart to pump blood.
Antagonistic muscle pairs were easier. She simply had to think about moving an arm or a leg, and it happened without direct control. Sometimes, muscles worked when she didn't even want them to. On several occasions now she had found herself smiling at things, and even laughing. She put this down to the influence of the vessel, and recognised that, on some level, Katie was trying to prompt her into making the correct social responses. It was both comforting and worrying; comforting because it would help to make her transition into an Earth-being easier, but worrying because she knew that vessels should not have this much influence on the angels inhabiting them.
She was a little concerned that something had gone wrong with the whole process. But then, it had been such a long time since a grigori had taken a vessel. Perhaps this was natural for the lesser angels. Perhaps the integration was smoother, when an angel was less powerful. Perhaps her own personality was less overwhelming, allowing the human consciousness to be more... awake. She just didn't know enough about it all to form a judgement.
She could have stayed beneath the hot running water for hours, so content did it make her feel, but when her skin began to turn pink and wrinkly, she turned the tap off, and the stream of wonderful hot water finally stopped. The air was saturated with vapour, and the grey mist swirled around her body as she stepped out of the shower. Goosebumps automatically rose on her skin, but she ignored them. Angels did not feel cold, or heat, though too much heat was capable of irreparably damaging a vessel.
There was a tall mirror set into one of the walls of the bathroom, fogged up with steam. Avariel reached out towards it with the hand of her vessel, placing her palm onto the cold surface. When she removed her hand from it, a print was left behind, and the sight of it made her smile. She had a body, now. She could have an effect on the world. She could leave something behind, even if it was an ephemeral handprint.
Concentrating her mind, she focused on the mirror, and it cleared of fog instantly. Her own reflection looked back at her, and she took a moment to study it, familiarising herself with her new form. Katie was not a tall human—five feet and four inches, by her own measurements—and she had a slender frame. She wasn't skinny or frail, because she had grown up on a farm and worked with animals, and nobody grew up skinny or frail on a farm, but what she lacked for in physical strength she made up for in endurance. She could carry buckets of animal feed around all day, or spend an afternoon skipping out dirty stables, and still feel fresh after.
Not for the first time, Avariel wondered how different things would be right now if her vessel had been male, instead of female. She knew that throughout history, women had often been considered the weaker gender, and whilst it was true that most women lacked the muscle mass of their male counterpoints, it didn't mean they were any less capable. Humans had surpassed the point where physical strength was the greatest inheritable trait; they had vehicles to transport them and machines to lift for them. Swords and axes were no longer the weapon of choice, replaced by guns, which required no great strength to shoot.
It didn't matter, to Avariel, what sort of body she inhabited, as long as it was compatible with her natural form. Male and female meant nothing to her, because grigori had no gender. The human experience would be no less simply because she was inhabiting the body of a woman instead of a man. Humans were humans, and gender was just a very small and largely unimportant aspect of humanity. She was, however, coming to slowly associate herself with being female. Or at least, she was coming to understand that others associated her with being female. The three humans in the house already referred to her as 'she' and seemed to consider her female, even if they didn't entirely trust her.
She noticed a small scar on the left side of her thigh, and accessed Katie's memories.
Running through the woods with her friends as a child, playing hide and seek. A trip over brambles, falling onto a log that had lain on the ground. A branch tine piercing her leg, snapping off into the muscle. A trip to the hospital to have the wood removed and the injury dressed.
Human bodies were so... frail. They injured easily and took time to repair. Why would her Father create such fragile creatures? Why did He curse them with short life spans? What did He hope to gain from this experiment? Why had He created the Earth for them to live on, and then abandoned them to it?
Not even the arch-angels had answers to those questions. Or, if they did, they weren't providing the answers to anybody else. In the end, it didn't matter to Avariel. Her Father had made the humans, just as He had made the angels. He had not created them equal; angels did not age or tire or die of natural causes. But nor did they experience love or sadness or joy. 'Not equal' did not necessarily mean 'superior'. Humans possessed something most angels could not even conceive; free will. The ability to make choices. The opportunity to say 'yes' or 'no'. They alone amongst the animals and the angels could think, reason, question and disobey. Of course, angels could learn to do that, too. They just had to walk a much, much finer line. Angels who sinned even a little were punished far worse than the humans who did the same.
Once she was more comfortable with the sight of her new body, she turned to the pile of clothes she had brought from the trunk. She knew at a glance that Ellen's were too big for her, so she turned to Jo's. The girl had been a bit taller than Katie, but the clothes weren't too bad a fit, just a little long on the legs and sleeves. They would suffice until she was able to find some clothes of her own.
She selected a pair of blue jeans, and searched through the shirts. Mostly they were black vest-tops, along with one cream-coloured blouse. She pulled on a black t-shirt, and wore the blouse unbuttoned over it. Dressed, she returned to the spare room, to the clothes trunk. A pair of trainers was in the bottom of it, along with a pair of sturdy black leather calf-high boots. Katie recommended the trainers. Avariel objected. Boots were more durable and more waterproof. Plus, cooler. She didn't know how she knew, but she did. In the end, Avariel got her way.
There was some makeup in a small overnight bag. Avariel understood the concept of makeup; it was used to enhance an appearance, to make one human appear more attractive to another. Mostly it was women who used it, but in the past men had used it as well. So strange, the human species. With almost every other animal on Earth, it was the male who was the most flamboyant; bright plumage, large antlers, shining scales – males were more visually appealing to attract females. Humans seemed to have it the wrong way around.
Calling upon Katie's memories once more, she opened the eyeshadow and selected a steel-grey colour for her eyelids, and then used a kohl pencil to trace a faint outline around her lower eyes. Pink blusher brought a slightly healthier glow to her cheeks, and was followed by a brush of mocha-coloured lipstick across her lips. Then she turned her attention to her hair, which was still damp. Many women had long hair, Avariel knew, and so had Katie, until she'd started studying at college and working part-time in the animal shelter. It was then the girl had realised that long hair was simply a nuisance when you were trying to shove a pill down a cat's throat, or perform an animal autopsy to figure out why some poor dog had keeled over in front of his owners. The first thing Katie had done after the dog incident was get her hair cut short. It was a practical thing, and she rather liked how grown-up it made her feel. When she had been a little girl, her mother had tied her hair in... pigtails...
Avariel closed her eyes as a memory sprang up, unrequested.
"Katie, get your sister ready for church!" Mom called from downstairs.
Ten year old Katie ran down the stairs two at a time, then dashed into the living room where her mother was trying to dress her two year old brother. Jon was squirming in his mother's grip, and not making it easy for the woman to dress him. "But Mom, you haven't done my hair yet!" Katie held her hand out towards her mother, two pink ribbons held firmly in her grip.
"I haven't got time to do your hair, Katie," mom replied. There were dark circles under her eyes; Jon kept her awake at nights with his teething pains. Her skin was dull and her hair was oily. She was so frazzled that she was barely keeping it together. Ten year old Katie had not seen that. She hadn't known any better. All she knew was that mom didn't have time for her anymore. Mom didn't even have time for Shona anymore. And because mom was so busy with Jon, dad had to feed the horses, and the chickens, and the sheep, and still needed to make it back to the house in time to clean up for church.
"But you always do my hair," Katie sulked.
"You're a big girl now, Katie," mom sighed. "And big girls do their own hair. Now go and make sure your sister isn't ruining her church dress."
The ten year old girl felt her world crumble down around her. Every Sunday had been the same, for as long as she could remember. Up before dawn for an early breakfast. Bathed for church and dressed in her finest. And as dad played with Shona, eliciting happy gurgles from Katie's younger sister, Katie herself would have her hair put into pigtails by her mom, and ribbons tied into them. This was the way it had always been. That one day it might not be this way had never occurred to her. Children were not capable of thinking "one day, this might be gone". Not unless they had already suffered such a loss.
"Go on, Katie. We haven't got all day," mom grumbled.
Katie went back upstairs, the ribbons barely held in her limp hand. Inside, she felt empty. How could mom not do her hair? Mom always did her hair. It was what Katie looked forward to most, even more than going to church. Those few moments which belonged solely to Katie and her mother. They were what she treasured most of all.
And now, those moments were gone.
She found her five year old sister playing with dolls, and dressed her in her church-dress, then combed Shona's hair, pulling it back into a ponytail. It took only a few minutes to ready her sister for church, and then she put the child back with the dolls as she turned to look at her own reflection in the mirror. Her brown hair was long, more than halfway down her back. It was too long for her to brush on her own. Too long for her to tie on each side. And her fingers were not nimble enough for the ribbons. Every time she tried to tie one, the silken material slipped from her grip.
Tears formed in her eyes, and she lost hope, letting the ribbons fall onto the floor. Everybody in church would look at her and see her without ribbons in her hair. They would look at her and know. They would know that Katie's mother no longer had time for her anymore. They would whisper and pity her, and Katie would be forever without the ribbons. Her childhood had ended. She was a big girl now.
Avariel inhaled deeply as the musty scent of Bobby's house came flooding back into her nostrils, pulling her out of the childhood memory. Even now she could feel Katie's tears stinging her eyes, and she looked up at the mirror, to see her eyes damp.
So. These were tears, were they? She poked at one as it trickled down her cheek, and it clung to the end of her finger. Curious, she put the tip of her finger into her mouth, touching it with the end of her tongue. It tasted salty. Very strange indeed. Why would any species cry salt? Of what benefit was that to the individual?
She took a moment to fix the damage done to her eyeliner by the tears, and when she was confident no more tears would come, she stood up a little straighter and took one last look at herself in the mirror. She did not look like Katie. But she did not look like Avariel either. She didn't know what Avariel was supposed to look like, but this would have to do for now. Recalling that she had yet to fix her hair, she ran her fingers through it a few times, channelling a little heat to dry it, and then smoothed it down as best she could. Irritatingly, one little piece at the front kept sticking up at an odd angle, and would not lie flat no matter what she did to it. Perhaps she would have to ask Dean for advice on hair-styling products. She suspected he used them on a daily basis.
It was past time to see what trouble the Winchesters were getting themselves into without her to keep an eye on them. Leaving the spare room, she descended the stairs quietly, listening for voices. She heard them coming from the study, and she stopped for a moment to listen more closely. They were still discussing ideas about how to kill Lucifer. The Colt, which Avariel knew to be a formidable weapon, had failed. Dean was not pleased by its failure.
She stepped down the last of the stairs and entered the room. The conversation immediately ceased, and they all turned to look at her. Bobby was sitting behind his desk, as usual, in the position of authority. Sam was in front of the desk, a large tome in his lap, Dean was on the sofa, one foot up on the coffee table and his other leg hidden beneath a pile of paper scrolls, and Castiel was standing beside the window with his arms folded across his chest and an eternally patient expression on his face.
"Please don't let my presence stop you from talking," she offered.
"Well," Dean said, running his eyes over her. "You scrub up pretty well."
"Your approval is noted," she replied. Katie did not like the way he was looking at her. Avariel had no opinion of it. Dean looked at many girls. She knew it was nothing personal.
"How was the shower?" Bobby asked.
"Surprisingly enjoyable," she said, with a small smile for her new leash-holder. "I had no idea water felt like that. I don't understand why you mammals left the sea in the first place. If you ask me, the dolphins have the right idea. They fly through the water, you know."
"Riiiight," Dean said, and Avariel saw him glance meaningfully at Bobby. What his meaning was, exactly, was lost on her.
Sam cleared his throat before speaking. "So... Avariel. We've been trying to come up with a plan to stop Lucifer. Do you have any ideas?"
"Trap him in holy fire," she suggested.
"Oh, sure," Dean said jovially, "we'll just walk up to the guy and say 'Hey, Lucifer old buddy, would you mind standing still for a moment while we pour a ring of holy oil around you and set it on fire?' I'm sure he'll jump at the chance to do that."
"Not helping, Dean," Sam said. Avariel rather liked the youngest Winchester. His attitude was more helpful than his older brother's, at least.
"I was simply attempting to point out the reality of the situation," Avariel said. "To stop Lucifer you must either trap him or kill him."
"Well, I think it's safe to say trapping him is out of the question," Bobby said. And, because he didn't phrase it as a question or an order, Avariel kept her mouth firmly shut. "Do you know of anything that can kill him?"
"Yes," she said instantly. This oath of obedience was a little irksome. She resolved to try and answer more slowly, in future. After all, she'd never sworn to obey immediately. "Michael can kill Lucifer. God can kill Lucifer. Perhaps Raphael can, but I am not so sure. Perhaps one of the arch-angel blades can kill him."
"What about a Horseman?" Dean suggested.
"You will not turn the Horsemen against Lucifer," she said with confidence. "He has bound them to him. They cannot harm him."
"You seem to know an awful lot about the subject."
"Yes. My kind are called 'Watchers.' Guess why."
"Is there anything else that can kill Lucifer?" Sam asked desperately. "Anything at all?"
"Other than our Father or another arch-angel? Not that I'm aware of."
"So we're back to 'screwed'." Bobby sighed.
Avariel looked more closely at the man to whom she had sworn an oath of obedience. He showed many signs of tiredness, and indications of worry and stress. His life had not been an easy one, she knew, and since being confined to his wheelchair, he had fallen deeper and deeper into depression. He was a good man, and she felt a sudden desire to help him.
"Bobby, can we go for icecream?" she asked.
"Lucifer is free from his prison, the four Horsemen stalk the lands, the whole world is going to Hell, and you want to go for icecream?" he asked with a tone of astonishment.
"Well, it is my number one thing that I need to do before I die." She shook her head. "And believe me, I know just how precarious human existence is. So many lives, snuffed out just like that." She snapped her fingers, which made Dean jump. Had he been expecting something to happen, when she did that? "I could be dead tomorrow. Besides, I have been inside a cage for too many days, and I have yet to experience eating. I would like the first thing I eat to be icecream. Preferably chocolate. With sprinkles." She saw that he was wavering a little, and applied some pressure. "Please? You need a break just as much as I do. A chance to get out into the fresh air and just spend a few minutes truly enjoying something for a change. Wouldn't you like that?"
"You can stop giving me that look," Bobby warned Dean. A smirk disappeared from the face of the latter. Bobby gave a sigh of defeat. "Well, I suppose one icecream would be fine. But we're not making a habit of this. I'm not a damn angel-sitter."
"Thank you," she smiled, pleased that she had gotten her own way again. Perhaps working with Bobby would not be so bad after all. She stepped beside him, and glanced up at the Winchesters. "Do they have to come?" she asked Bobby, gesturing at the boys, and by extension, Castiel.
"Well... I suppose not," Bobby said. "It might be nice to get away from these idjits for a short time."
"Good, then it's settled!" She touched Bobby's shoulder, and teleported.
- o -