Fallen
Book 1: Angels, Angels, Everywhere
Chapter 6
- The Price of Peace -
Fire blazed in the rectangular pit, spewing acrid black smoke into the air. Bone was not an easy substance to burn, needing temperatures far hotter than those required of a wood-fire. The accelerant humans named 'petrol' or 'gasoline' made the task much easier though, and the bones within the open grave had been liberally doused in both gasoline and salt. Above the pit, Avariel stood looking down at the bones, musing on the existence of the human they had once been.
"So... that was a ghost," she said. There was a small cut on her cheek, from where the ghost had psychically pushed her forwards into a wall, and her flesh had found a sharp iron nail embedded within. It was a small injury, insignificant, and would heal in less than a few hours. Nothing worthy of her attention.
"Yeah, that was a ghost," Bobby agreed. He was sitting beside her in his wheelchair, a box of matches in his hands and a can of gas on the ground. He glanced up at her, and she sensed his concern. For the past two weeks, she had been sensing more and more of him, finding it easier to read his aura the more time they spent together. Now, she knew he was worried about her, and he confirmed it with his next words. "You okay?"
She shook her head, unable to pry her eyes away from the fire. "It was so... angry. I could feel its pain. Why would anybody choose to remain behind and become this?"
"Mostly, they don't know it's what they'll become," he replied. "I think grief holds them back. Grief and a sense of unfinished business. Normally, by the time a hunter gets to them, it's too late. Nine and a half times out of ten, we can only put them to rest by burning the remains. I wish the odds were better, but it's just the reality of life and death."
"I've seen them before," she said, and her vessel shivered at the memory. "When I Watched from Heaven, I saw them, wandering spirits of pain and anger. I rarely gave them a second thought. I knew that, eventually, a hunter would come along and put them to rest. There have always been hunters. Did you know that? Ever since mankind sat around the fires inside their caves and listened to the beasts growling and moaning from the shadows, hunters have existed to protect the tribe. Your kind go back to the dawn of humanity. And we Watched from above, and failed to understand why the spirits chose to remain. I think I understand, now."
"Look at me, Ava," he said, turning his chair to face her.
Ava. It was a nickname Dean had used for her the last time she had seen him. He and Sam were setting off on another hunt, leaving Bobby behind with his tame angel. 'You be a good girl for Uncle Bobby, Ava,' he'd said, with one of his trademark grins. He hadn't known, of course, that she and Bobby had been having daily excursions to hunt demons, but the nickname had stuck. It wasn't her real name, but it was a name that the humans now used for her, and she understood that such names were normally given to denote camaraderie. Even though it wasn't her name, she responded to it as if it was. It was her choice to do so, her choice to be Ava, as well as Avariel. And when Bobby commanded her to look at him, she had no choice but to comply.
"You've had a bit of a scare today," he said, his voice strong and steady as he imparted the benefit of his wisdom to her. "Demons you're fine with, because you know what they are, and how they work. But you've never seen a ghost before, not like this. The first time any hunter goes up against something unknown, it tends to scare the crap out of him. But you did good. Real good. You kept that ghost distracted until I could find its grave, and you dug the Earth up faster than anyone I've ever seen. Now, the ghost is at peace... I hope. But what matters is that it's not here anymore. It's not hurting innocent people. And if you plan on sticking around on Earth for a while, I can guarantee you're going to see more ghosts. So suck it up. Are you an angel, or a girl-scout?"
"I am an angel, of course. You know that already." She smiled, to show him that she would be okay. "I'm sure I would make an excellent girl-scout too, though. Making camp-fires and selling cookies. How hard could it be?"
"Heh, that's the spirit." He patted her arm, which had come to be a comforting gesture. "C'mon, let's pack up here and go home. We might still make it back in time to get washed up and get some icecream."
"Very well, but perhaps you should opt for something other than icecream. You lack an angel's metabolism, and I'd hate to see you grow too large for your chair."
"Why, you cheeky SOB," he growled, though she knew that he had taken the comment in the humour it had been intended.
Five minutes later Avariel teleported them both back to the front door of Bobby's house. She should have known there would be trouble when she noticed one of the lights inside the house was on, but her mind was so focused on her experience with the ghost that at first she didn't even register they were no longer alone. She followed Bobby into the study, and stopped walking the moment she saw Sam and Dean. She had not spent as much time with them as she had with Bobby, so she could not read their auras quite as accurately, but she could tell that Sam was sad and Dean was angry. The older brother's anger was so tightly leashed that he gave both she and Bobby a cold smile when they entered the room.
"Welcome home," he said. "Been somewhere?"
"Yeah, for icecream, if that's alright with you," Bobby said, and muttered 'idjit' under his breath.
Dean clearly didn't believe him. He strode forward, took the carryall from Bobby's lap and opened it up.
"Icecream? Really? You need a rifle full of rocksalt for icecream?" He dropped the gun on the floor. "You need a bag of salt for icecream?" A bag of salt followed the rifle, tiny white grains spilling everywhere. A lot of bad luck he'd just given himself. "You need an EMF reader, and a box of matches, and a copy of the frigging bible, to go get icecream? You went hunting, didn't you?"
"Boy, what I get up to in my time, in my house, is all of my business and none of yours," Bobby said, a deep scowl etched into his face. "Do you think I don't know how to take care of myself? Do you think that just because my legs don't work, my brain don't work either?"
"Bobby, you're not as capable as you once were," Dean said. Avariel could see the pain on his face, and wondered what was causing it.
"Oh, so just because I'm a cripple now, I should give up hunting and go training for the paralympics? Sure, let me just pack up all my books you've been using, and put away all my weapons you're carrying, and fill with concrete the panic room you're so fond of dragging things back to, and I'll head off for my new life as a paralympic gold medalist in kicking your damn ass."
"You can be as bitter and sarcastic as you want, but I can't be worrying about you too, Bobby. I'm out there, every day, worrying about myself, about Sam, about Lucifer and Michael, about trying to save the whole god-forsaken world. I need to know that you're here, safe. That at the end of the day, when I need someone to help me pick up the pieces, you're going to be here. That I don't have to worry about losing you as well."
"Dean," Avariel said, stepping forward to deflect some of his anger away from Bobby. "I would never put Bobby in any danger. We hunt only small things. Minor demons. Ghosts. We don't take risks. We are simply honing my skills."
"You," Dean said, rounding on her with his finger pointing at her, "do not get a say in this. You will sit down and be silent."
"I will not," she said angrily.
She grabbed his finger and, almost without thinking, teleported. One minute they were standing in Bobby's living room, the next minute they were deep inside in a dense, hot jungle, the sound of wild birds calling all around. Quickly, she let go of Dean's finger, taking a step back in case he tried to retaliate and forced her to hurt him. He didn't retaliate; he simply looked around, turning on the spot to survey the jungle around him. And when he turned back to her, his face was angry again.
"Where the hell are we?" he demanded.
"Hmm... Madagascar, judging by the presence of the lemurs," she said, pointing to a ringtail in the tree.
"Why are we in Madagascar?"
She shrugged. "I watched the animated movie yesterday on the television. I guess it was just on my mind at the time."
"Well you can take us back right now, or so help me God I'll..."
"You'll what?" she asked, waiting for an end to his empty threat.
"I'll call Cas," he said, with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "And have him haul you back to the house."
"And you'll call him how? Madagascar is not exactly famed for its excellent cellphone network coverage, and I doubt your GPS will work this deep within the mountain range."
In an attempt to prove her wrong he took his phone out of his pocket, tried to dial a number, then swore. She was not unsympathetic, but she did not want outside interference for this.
"Dean," she said, stepping forwards and holding up her hands to show they were empty, "you and I are overdue a conversation, away from the prying ears of Bobby, and Sam, and Castiel."
"The only conversation we're having is the one where you take me back to the US right now," he demanded.
She ignored him, and continued speaking. "Despite what you appear to believe, I am not a child."
"Yeah? Well you sure as hell act like one, at times."
"Takes one to know one," she countered.
"Well... fine," he huffed. "So I like cartoons and comics and hamburgers. Maybe inside, I'm really just a big child, but at least I'm not irresponsible."
"You are trying to claim that you're not at all irresponsible?" she asked, one corner of her mouth pulling back into a smile. "You can't lie to the Eyes of Heaven, Dean. Reckless bravado is practically your middle name. Your first instinct is to react on instinct. When in doubt, you fire a gun and hope for the best. And what has it got you so far? You sold your soul to a demon. Are you telling me that was an act of responsibility?"
"Yes, I am," he said, and his usual stubborn look appeared on his face. "Responsibility to my brother. To my family. I know that that's like, even if you don't."
"This is not about me," she countered. "One familial mess at a time, Dean. And right now, you have a clean-up on aisle Bobby. Or have you forgotten that he almost died trying to save you? That he is in that chair because of you?"
"Of course I haven't forgotten," he hissed. "It's the first thing I think when I wake up in the mornings, and the last thing on my mind when I go to bed at night. Bobby is my responsibility. I have to take care of him and protect him, as he protected me. And if that means he sits safe on the sidelines, he sits safe on the sidelines."
"Until what? He dies of old age, or out of sheer frustration, puts a bullet into his head? He is not a child, Dean. He is a grown man with his own life and his own ideas. I can tell you that he is going to go off doing whatever he wants whether you like it or not, and nothing you can say or do will stop him. Now you can let him go off on his own, and possibly risk his neck every time he leaves for a hunt, or you can accept that if I am with him, he will be safer. That I can watch over him and help him out of any situations that get too dangerous for him to be in."
"I... I can't lose him, Ava," he said, his face softening a fraction, hazel eyes imploring her to understand. "Next to Sam, Bobby's the only family I got left. He's like a father to me. Closer than a father, even. Every time I see him in that chair, it reminds me of how badly I screwed up. If I'd just been quicker off the mark, if I'd just suspected a demon was inside him, I could have exorcised it. There would have been no need for him to almost die."
"I'm going to tell you a painful truth, Dean," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You cannot save everything. But at the same time, the entire world is not yours to save. I see that the weight of every soul lost weighs heavily on you, and that you bear the burden of it for every mistake you have made, every act of violence you have committed. But sooner or later, those souls are going to weigh you down so much that you won't even be able to stand, and that's when the demons will truly have you in their grasp.
"I know that you feel like you are alone, but you are not. You have friends and family who care for you. And yes, people are going to die. Good people. But they're not going to die for you; they are going to die for themselves, for their own freedom, and for the freedom of others. To believe that they do it all for you merely makes a mockery of who and what they were. So learn to let go. Let others take on some of that burden. Don't try to carry the whole world on your shoulders; not even an angel can do that."
She could see the unshed tears in Dean's eyes, and it broke her heart to witness them. This, she realised, was empathy. But why was she feeling it? Was she broken?
"I couldn't save my father," he said, before she could think more on her own existential issues. "But I can save Bobby."
"Or Bobby can save himself." She shook her head, and released his shoulder. It made the aching in her heart lessen, a little. "I know you don't like me, or trust me. You didn't ask for me to be in your life, and you don't want me here. I can see that. But I am here. That is something you're just going to have to accept. Despite what Castiel has told you, I am not a bad person, Dean. I am not a bad angel. I was always obedient, always polite. My only crime is that I care too much for my Father's creations. I disobeyed to protect the Earth, to protect humanity, and I was cast out because of it. If you want to damn me for that, go ahead. But if there was a way of proving to you that I am honest, and that I truly do wish to help you, I would do it."
"You want to prove it?" he asked. "Fine. Take an oath of obedience to me."
"I can't," she said, meeting his eyes squarely. "An angel can only swear one oath at a time. Ask Castiel, if you don't believe me."
"Oh I intend to. Now, take me back."
"As, you wish." She moved to touch his shoulder, then stopped for one last word. "I know that what I have said here today probably changes nothing. I know you'll probably go on disliking me and not trusting me. I can't say that I blame you, after everything angels have done to you. But I can promise that when this apocalypse is over, if Bobby frees me from my oath, you will never see me again. Until then we are allies, whether either of us likes it or not. Do with that as you will."
She touched his shoulder, and teleported both of them back to the house.
o - o - o - o - o
The Impala roared up the unpaved dirt-path driveway, through the path that had been left between cars good only for scrap metal, Whitesnake's Here I Go Again blurring out of the stereo at full volume. Sam had been suffering a headache for the past twenty miles, brought on by the midday heat and the insanely loud rock music Dean was so fond of playing, but he hadn't bothered mentioning it to his older brother. Dean had a habit of overreacting when Sam even caught a sniffle, paranoid that it was a sign of demonic forces at work in 'little Sammy'. Sometimes, Dean seemed to forget that Sam wasn't little anymore, and Sam had gotten used to keeping any aches and pains he suffered to himself, if only to stall the Spanish Inquisition.
Outside Bobby's house, Dean brought the car to a halt and pulled on the hand-brake. When he turned off the ignition the music finally died away, and Sam felt the tension in his head easing off. It didn't disappear completely, but the pain was a little more manageable now. All he needed to get him back into fighting form was a few hours of sleep, preferably in a dark room. Unfortunately, there was still half of the day left to go.
"Feels good to be back, doesn't it?" Dean asked.
"You're glad to be back at Bobby's?" Sam replied, confused. His brother's statement was verging on incredulous. "You know he's going to put us on research the moment he sees us, right?"
"Yeah, I know, but it's a few days to rest up and restock ammo. No more dodgy motel rooms, no having to worry about hex bags under our beds, no waiting until the next batch of random crazy starts."
Sam opened his mouth to speak, and then stopped to listen to a sound in the air. "Speaking of random crazy," he said, "is it just me, or can you hear... a flute?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "I thought something seemed... off. Since when does Bobby listen to flute music?"
Sam shrugged, and when Dean turned to enter the house, Sam followed him. When they opened the door, the music grew louder. Sam didn't recognise the piece—instrumental music was hardly his speciality—but it was a beautiful song, obviously well-recorded, because he could hear no static in the background.
He stepped past Dean and walked into Bobby's living room, then stopped in his tracks. There were musical instruments everywhere. A harp in the corner of the room, a trumpet, a saxophone and a violin on stands beside the fire, two steel-pan drums where the coffee table normally lived, and a dozen more brass, woodwind and percussion instruments that he didn't even recognise. Beside the window, Ava was sitting upright on a stool, her hands holding a flute to her lips. Her eyes were closed, and her fingers jumped gracefully across the keys.
"Uh... hello, Ava," he said.
She opened her eyes and stopped playing, giving him a smile that made her face shine radiantly. At moments like that, he saw only the vessel, Katie, and he was able to forget that there was something inside her which didn't truly belong.
"Hello, Sam," she replied. "I don't suppose you brought icecream back from your travels?"
And just like that, the vessel was gone, and it was an angel looking at him from behind the cornflower-blue eyes.
"Err... no, it was too hot to bring a tub, it would have melted," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Where's Bobby?"
"I'm here," came the gruff voice of the old hunter. He wheeled himself into the room, and looked just terrible. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, his hair was ruffled beneath his cap, and there were a pair of ear muffs around his neck. "Where's idjit number two?" he demanded.
"Right here," said Dean, stepping out from behind Sam. "Geez, Bobby, you look like crap. Did somebody die?" Dean's face suddenly went stony. "Who died?"
"Nobody died," Bobby scowled.
"Bobby has been irritable for days," Avariel said helpfully. "I have been trying to soothe his latent anger with music, but so far it does not seem to be working. I think William Congreve was employing artistic licence when he said 'Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks or bend a knotted oak.'"
"Maybe you should try guitar," Dean suggested. "I don't see one of them here."
"I tried," Ava said, frowning momentarily, her blue eyes troubled. She held up her left hand, and waggled her fingers. "Unfortunately, Katie's fingers are not long enough to effectively apply equal pressure across the neck of the instrument."
"So you can actually play all these?" Sam asked, gesturing at the rest of the instruments. It was a very impressive assortment.
"Yes. Music was actually very easy to learn, because what musical notes actually reduce down to are regular mathematical wavelengths which oscillate—"
She stopped talking as Dean lifted his hand.
"We don't need to know about that."
"Too much detail?" she asked. Dean nodded.
"I guess you were right about your affinity for music," Sam said. "Can you sing, too?"
"Technically, yes," she said.
Sam waited for a moment for elaboration, and then Dean spoke up.
"That would be 'not enough detail'."
"I am forbidden from speaking of it."
Both brothers turned to look at Bobby.
"You forbade her from discussing singing?" Dean asked.
"Ava," said Bobby, ignoring Dean and turning to face the angel. "I'd like you to have a day off. For the next twenty-four hours, I want you to go and save people who need saving. Whilst you're gone, you're not to Watch me, this house, or anybody in it. Come back at this time tomorrow. Do you understand?"
To Sam, Ava looked shocked by the command. Her eyes went wider... somehow, sadder.
"You're sending me away?" she asked. "Have I displeased you?"
"No, no, not at all. I just think we both need a break, and I want you to put your skills to better use. Now that Sam and Dean are back, the boys won't mind keeping me company for a day. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Very well," she said, though she still looked troubled. She handed her flute over to Sam, and then teleported.
Bobby let out a deep sigh which sounded almost like relief.
"Are you nuts?" Dean asked the older man. "You just sent Ava off to do her own thing for a full day."
"Don't worry," Bobby said. "She can't exorcise demons by touch, ghosts scare her, and she'd not keen on crowds. How much damage can she do?"
"It's not damage she might do that I'm worried about, it's damage done to her."
"Wait," Sam said, thoroughly confused by his brother. Which was business as usual, really. "I thought you didn't like her? Or trust her?"
"I don't, but that doesn't mean I want to see her killed," Dean countered. "She's had a body for all of... what, a month? She has the social skills, the common sense, and the naïveté of a six year old child. How long do you think she's going to last out there?"
"Dean," Bobby said, shaking his head at Dean's words, "that's just what you see. I know, Ava has a strange sort of wide-eyed innocence about her, but that's just a very small aspect of what she is. Trust me, I've spent a lot more time with her than you have. She's been watching the Earth for a long time. She has a pretty good idea of how it works, and she knows enough to get herself out of trouble. But I wanted to talk to you boys alone, and for that, I needed her gone and not watching."
"What's all this about, Bobby?" Sam asked him. If he had sent Ava away for a day, just to talk to them, then it must be something serious.
"But before you answer that," Dean said, and Sam recognised the wicked gleam in his brother's eyes, "why'd you forbid her from talking about singing?"
"None of your damn business."
"It is if you want us to talk. I could just go for pizza. In Missouri. I should get back for about this time tomorrow."
"You let her sing, didn't you?" Sam guessed, and Bobby rolled his eyes. "What'd she sing?"
"Amazing Grace," he replied uncomfortably, as if the answer was being physically dragged out of him.
"What was it like?"
"Like she was reaching into my soul and pulling up every memory of sadness and loss and desperate hope I've ever had, and forcing me to relive them all over again, with the promise that there may be some sort of salvation at the end of all the suffering. Nothing on Earth should be able to sing like that."
"You cried, didn't you?" Dean grinned.
"I'll make you cry, if you don't shut your damn trap," Bobby threatened.
"So what'd you want to talk about?" Sam asked, changing the subject before Dean had to live through the humiliation of having his ass kicked by a man in a wheelchair.
"Ava," Bobby said. He wheeled himself back into the study. "Look, I promised you boys that I'd stay here, that we'd both stay here, while you went out on your last hunt. I've just been researching, and handling the phones."
"But..?" Sam prompted him.
"But I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to keep Ava here. She's like a one-angel hurricane of desire to help people. And she doesn't sleep. Ever. You don't know what it's like, to have somebody around you constantly, asking you questions, trying to be helpful, trying to understand, watching you every minute of every day."
"Oh yeah, I definitely wouldn't know what that's like," Sam said, with a pointed look at his brother.
"I don't watch you every minute of every day," Dean responded. "I usually get at least four hours' sleep a night."
"I don't understand, Bobby," Sam continued. "She's sworn an oath of obedience to you. Can't you just... tell her to be quiet?"
"Tried it. A few days ago, I told her to sit down, shut up, do nothing and Watch for anything useful happening in the world."
"That doesn't sound too bad," Dean said.
"She sat there for six hours, didn't move a single hair, didn't even blink... just staring at me. So I went to bed to read for a while, and sorta... forgot to tell her she could move again. The next morning, she was still in exactly the same position I'd left her in, and when I finally remembered that I had to tell her to talk again, she insisted on spending the next two hours recounting every crime and killing she had been forced to witness because my most recent order of "sit and do nothing" overwrote my previous order of "go and help people who need it". Then she gave me sad-eyes for the rest of the day."
"So... you gave her a music shop?" Sam asked, glancing down at the flute in his hand. He put it down on the desk.
"I suggested she explore what it meant to be human," Bobby said. "At first she painted, which was all good and quiet, if a bit messy. Then came the singing. After that, I told her to stick with instruments. Yesterday she had a damn piano in here, and I was only just in time to stop her from bringing a church organ in too. I'm too old for baby-sitting, boys, and baby-sitting Ava is like watching over a ten-thousand year old child that could torch your entire house with a snap of its fingers if it chose."
"Whaddya wanna do with her, then?" Dean asked.
"Well, I'm considering this twenty-four hour period a sort of... trial run," Bobby replied.
"Trial run for what?"
"If she gets by alright without any problems, I'm going to let her go."
"You're going to... let her go?" Dean reiterated. He sounded like he couldn't believe his ears, and Sam understood how he felt. Ava was not only a source of potentially infinite knowledge, but she was also obedient to Bobby. She might not have the strength of a full angel, but she could still prove a formidable weapon in the fight against the apocalypse.
"You heard me," Bobby said. "When it comes right down to it, she's more of a hindrance than a help to me here. She's already told me everything she knows about Lucifer and the apocalypse, and it's barely more than what Cas has already told us. Instead of sitting here and distracting me, she could be out there, looking for answers and saving lives. I don't intend to release her from her oath of obedience, but I do intend to relax the rules a little. If she manages the next twenty-four hours with no problems, I'll tell her that she's free to go and make her own way in the world, as long as she still makes herself available for the big show-down."
"This is a phenomenally bad idea," Dean said, rubbing one hand over his face.
"Well alright, I'll just order her to travel with you and Sam, and stay with you forever," Bobby said. "Give you a taste of what it's like."
There was a moment of silence whilst that sunk in. If Sam was honest with himself, he liked Ava. He couldn't put his finger on why. Perhaps it was the vessel, Katie; she was a beautiful girl, no doubt. Or perhaps it was because Ava just seemed so open and honest. He wouldn't have minded spending more time with her, even helping her to learn more about humanity now that she literally had a hands-on view of it. But he got the feeling that Ava would need to be a full-time commitment, and he wasn't sure the responsibility was what he and Dean needed right now.
"I'm not asking your permission, Dean," Bobby continued. "I've already made up my mind, and it's what's going to happen tomorrow, or as soon as I think she's ready to be on her own."
Dean held up his hands in defeat. "Hey, like you said, it's your decision. I just hope you're not making a terrible mistake."
"This isn't a decision I've come to lightly," Bobby assured him. "I've been thinking about it for days, and I believe it's the correct thing to do."
"Okay," Dean said.
"Glad we've got that sorted. Now, you two go and get cleaned up from your hunt, then come and help me do some—"
"Research," both Winchesters finished for him.
"And don't dawdle," Bobby growled.
Sam followed his brother out of the house and down the steps to the Impala, trying to work out what had just happened. One minute, Dean had been dead against Ava going off on her own, and the next minute he was backing down just because Bobby had insisted. Dean never backed down, from anyone. Not even the angels could cow him into submission.
"Dean, are you really fine with Bobby letting Ava go?" he asked. "A minute ago, you were worried about what might happen to her if she's on her own."
"Yeah," Dean said, opening the trunk of the car and handing a bag of weapons to Sam, "but when it comes right down to it, if Ava's not here, then she can't go dragging Bobby off to hunt every time our backs are turned. It gives me one less thing to worry about. Bobby's safety is far more important to me than hers."
"Harsh, but fair, I suppose," Sam replied. He recalled the first time he had seen Ava, standing defiant and blood-covered in the warehouse where Zachariah had trapped them, and smiled at the memory. "Y'know, I've kinda enjoyed having her around."
"Of course you have," Dean said with an amused snort, "she's hot. Or the vessel is. Whatever."
"I don't just mean because of that." At one time, Sam would have blushed at the thought of spending more time with an attractive woman, but he'd done a lot since then, and seen even more, and pretty girls were no longer something he got flustered or nervous over. "Just having her around, it's felt a bit like..."
"Like..?" Dean prompted.
"I dunno. Like she belongs here? There's a sort of... familiarity about her."
"Yeah, 'cos she's been stalking us for the past few months," Dean reminded him.
"It's more than that," Sam insisted. "I just get a good vibe from her. Like she really wants to help us."
"Is that the same vibe you got from Ruby, by any chance?"
Sam shook his head. Dean was going to hold Ruby over him for the rest of his life, as an example of why his judgement couldn't be trusted when it came to women. But the truth was, Ruby had been such a good actress that not even other demons had known that she was secretly aiding Lilith in breaking the Seals to free Lucifer from his cage. For two years Ruby had been pulling Sam's strings, and despite Dean's frequent and vocal objections, Sam had danced like an obedient puppet. It wouldn't happen again. He was done making deals with demons, and through with trusting them. Ava, however, was not a demon, and he did trust her.
"You don't need to keep reminding me of my failures," he told his older brother. "There's not a day goes by when I don't think about how badly I've screwed up. The world might end, because of me. Millions of people might die, because of me. Demons currently walk the Earth in unwilling hosts, because of me. Because I wasn't strong enough to say no, because I was bent on revenge, and because I thought I was doing the right thing. So yeah, I know that you don't trust my judgement. You might never trust it again. But you don't need to keep dragging up my mistakes and rubbing my face in them."
"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean said, and Sam could tell he genuinely was sorry. "I didn't mean to make you feel like crap."
"It's alright," Sam relented. The tension between them dissipated, but it didn't evaporate completely.
"C'mon." Dean hefted a bag out of the trunk, and turned to the house. "Let's dump our stuff and give Bobby a hand."
Sam nodded at his brother's suggestion. Suddenly, a day of doing some quiet research didn't sound like such a bad idea.
o - o - o - o - o
For the first time in over a week, there was peace and quiet in the house. Bobby didn't have to worry about Ava coming up with some crazy new scheme for sampling what humanity had to offer. He didn't have to look up to find her practically hovering over him, questioning him on what he was doing every five minutes. And he could take a piss without being paranoid about whether she was Watching. If he didn't know better, he'd guess that she was doing it all simply to drive him crazy, so that he would suggest letting her go and everybody would think it was his idea. But she wasn't that cunning; not yet. And there was genuine curiosity in her questions.
Were it not for the looming apocalypse, he would have been happy enough to let her stay, to accompany her on hunting trips, to try and teach her about humanity. Although she had Watched the Earth for thousands upon thousands of years, and she seemed to understand a lot about humanity, there were things which perplexed her; little things that a human didn't really have to think about. She could describe perfectly how microwaves worked to heat up an item of food, and could draw complex diagrams and write out mathematical equations that possessed more letters than they did numbers to explain it all, but on her own she couldn't figure out how to actually work a microwave machine. When he'd asked her to reheat him something he'd cooked earlier, it had taken her almost fifteen minutes of trying to make the microwave work before she'd finally called him in and asked him to demonstrate it. It was only later he'd discovered that she didn't need the microwave at all; possessing some limited form of pyrokinesis, she was capable of heating food up with a mere wave of her hand. Or, as she described it, "imparting energy to the particles of the food item in a controlled manner which results in the excitation of the molecules in order to bring about an evenly spread endothermic reaction for the purpose of heating a meal."
There was a sudden blip noise from the laptop on his desk, and he turned the computer around to open up one of the applications.
"What's that, Bobby?" Sam asked, from his seat on the sofa.
"An alarm, ya idjit," he said, frowning at what was appearing on his screen.
Dean looked up from beside Sam. "For what?"
"One of Ash's old programs. I've got a direct feed from METEOSAT, and I set it up to alert me if any anomalous weather patterns occurred."
"And... you have an anomaly?" Sam asked.
Bobby nodded, and both boys joined him behind the desk. Anomalous weather patterns, particularly when localised, were a good demonic portent, an indication of currently occurring, or soon to be occurring, demon activity. Usually he only tracked the weather in the US, because that was where most of the action was taking place, but he liked to keep the METEOSAT system of weather satellites monitored, to help give a bigger picture.
"Is that Japan?" Sam asked, pointing to an area of the map east of where a weather front had suddenly kicked up a storm.
"Yep," Bobby confirmed. "But look at where that weather front is; out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. I doubt there's even any islands out there."
"So why the sudden surge in demonic activity in the middle of an ocean?"
"It's also a bit far out of our range, isn't it?" Dean asked. "I mean, for the most part, they've been pretty much confining themselves to America. It's where their precious hell-gate is, after all."
"Maybe they found something of interest out there," Bobby said with a shrug. "Or maybe it's a new offensive."
"I have an idea," said Dean. He took out his cellphone and dialled a number. "Hey Cas, it's me. Listen, we're at Bobby's, checking out one of the weather satellites, and getting some possible signs of demon activity out in the Pacific Ocean, not far from Japan. Could you check it out, and let us know if it's anything we need to be worried about? Co-ordinates? Yeah, about thirty-five north, a hundred and sixty east. Thanks, see you soon."
"You know you're probably sending him out there for nothing, right?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, but I'd rather be safe than sorry," Dean replied with a casual shrug. "Who knows, maybe he'll even find God out there."
"I take it he hasn't had any luck so far?" Bobby asked. Castiel had been searching for his Father for several months, hoping he could appeal to God to return to Heaven and fix the mess that Lucifer and Michael were making of the world.
"Do you see God anywhere?" Dean asked sarcastically.
Bobby did not get chance to reply to Dean's smart-alec comment. Castiel appeared in the room, looking particularly windswept. His dark hair was dishevelled, and the tie of his suit had been swept over his shoulder.
"So... it's windy out there, huh?" Dean asked, grinning at the angel's appearance.
"The velocity of the wind is exceeding one hundred and sixty kilometres per hour, and increasing exponentially," Castiel confirmed.
"How many demons?" Sam asked.
"None. It is Avariel, using 'her' natural abilities to create an artificial storm."
Bobby gave a silent mental groan. This conversation, he suspected, was not going to end well.
"What's she doing that for?" he asked.
"'She' appears to be using the storm in an attempt to capsize a boat full of people."
"Why?" Dean demanded.
"I don't know," Cas replied. "I didn't ask."
"Well do you think maybe you should have?"
"I did warn you several weeks ago that the grigori are dangerous," the angel pointed out.
Bobby wheeled his chair forward before this familiar argument could restart. Right now there was a boat full of people in danger, and he needed to deal with the situation before it could escalate.
"Cas, could you go and stop Avariel, and bring her here?" he asked.
"In theory, yes, but 'she' is looking particularly vengeful. She would probably try to resist me. It would be faster for you to summon her here."
"But I told her to go away for twenty-four hours, and stop Watching me until she returns."
"She is still bound to obey you," Cas said, in his finest 'I need to be patient when explaining angel business to humans' tone. "If you summon her, she must come, regardless of where she is or what she is doing."
"Alright," Bobby said. He hadn't realised the oath of obedience extended that far, but it was useful to know. "Avariel, I am ordering you to get back to the house right now."
She appeared in a gust of wind which blew papers all over the room, her hair just as messy as Castiel's. She took a deep breath as soon as she arrived, and whirled to face Bobby.
"But it hasn't been twenty-four hours yet!" she objected immediately. "Please, let me return."
"Why are you trying to capsize a boat?" he asked, trying his hardest to keep the scowl from his face. She would happily argue with Dean or Cas, and seemed to delight in angering them at times, but whenever she thought Bobby was angry with her, she became withdrawn and reticent, almost as if she was afraid of making him angry.
"I'm not," she replied, and he knew she was telling the truth. She couldn't lie to him. "It is a whaling vessel, and they are indiscriminately killing whales."
"So you work for friggin' Greenpeace now?" Dean demanded.
"No. But I heard the whales' cry for help. It is a pod of females, some of them mothers with young calves. If the mothers are killed, the calves will die too. I wasn't trying to damage the boat, I merely wanted to use the storm to give the whales a chance to escape."
"Is this really the best use of your time and powers?" Bobby asked her.
In response, she reached out and touched her fingers to his forehead, and he was suddenly transported to a scene of death. He was beneath the waves, and could taste blood on the ocean currents. The screams of a dying whale echoed through the water, singing of fear and pain, whilst from above flashes of cold silver plunged into the underwater realm, slicing flesh wherever they fell. Other whales rallied around the dying one, and its calf nuzzled it, to try and elicit a response...
When the fingers were removed from his forehead he was pulled out of that world, out of that terrible scene of destruction, and found himself back in his wheelchair, in his house. Avariel was looking down at him, her blue eyes pleading with him, begging him to understand.
"Fine, go. Just don't kill anybody," he said, and she disappeared. Bobby shivered and licked his lips, trying to get the taste of blood out of his mouth.
"What was that?" Dean asked. He looked concerned, and rightly so.
"Nothing," he said, shaking his head and asking the boy to drop it. "She just showed me what she saw and felt when she heard the whales' cry for help."
"Oh, is that all?"
"Bobby," Sam said, "do you really think it was a good idea to send her back there?"
"Probably not. But I'll be damned if I know what is or is not a good idea anymore."
He closed his eyes, and an echo of the death scene flickered across his mind. He'd never been squeamish in the past; even before he'd hunted monsters, he'd hunted animals. But the kills were usually fast and clean, with a minimum amount of suffering. Anything that didn't die immediately from a gunshot wound died soon after, from having its throat slit. It wasn't possible to slit a whale's throat, though. The best you could do was harpoon it, over and over again. Then you waited for it to come up for air, and harpooned it again. A whale died slowly, of blood loss or drowning, suffering terrible agony.
Avariel had felt the pain of the dying whale, and the fear of the rest of the pod. She'd heard the cries for help as clearly as if they had been spoken aloud by a human. When she'd said she could communicate with animals, she hadn't just been talking about language communication, but empathy; thought, memory and emotion. Until now, she'd never had a body before. She'd witnessed pain and suffering, but she hadn't understood it, hadn't experienced it. Now she understood, and when she had transferred the image of the whales to his mind, he had sensed how much it had affected her.
"Just let it go, boys," he said. "Back to the books."
The brothers offered no further arguments, and returned to their research stations, otherwise known as the sofa. Castiel gave Bobby a long, pointed look, before teleporting away. Bobby turned his attention back to METEOSAT, watching the brewing storm. He wished he could see what was happening out there, but these particular satellites were blind to the whaling ship, only capable of picking up weather-related effects such as wind speed, temperature and air pressure. He would have to wait for Ava to return, to find out exactly what was happening.
It didn't take more than twenty minutes for the storm to pass, but Ava didn't return immediately. For two hours Bobby sat watching the satellite, his eyes peeled for further signs of anomalous weather. There were no further storms—at least, no further unnatural storms—and when he realised that the time had elapsed on Ava's twenty-four hour trial period, he left the Winchesters to their research and started to look for the angel.
She wasn't in the spare room, nor the bathroom, nor the kitchen, so he left the house and wheeled himself outside, looking amongst the scrap vehicles on his land. She had to be somewhere around here; if she failed to return, she would have died, having broken the oath of obedience. And as unhappy as the whales had made her feel, he didn't think she was ready to die just yet. She still wanted to stop the apocalypse, after all.
At last he found her, sitting atop a pile of cars and looking out towards the horizon. She no longer looked as if she'd been tossed around by a storm, and she didn't react when he approached the car pile. He looked up for a moment, at her posture, her expression, the look in her eyes, and decided that letting her go was probably the best thing he could do right now. He just wasn't equipped to deal with Ava on a daily basis, and keeping her confined to the house, with nothing to do, wasn't fair to her.
"Ava," he called up, "could you come down here? I'd like to talk to you."
She disappeared, and reappeared almost in the same instant on the hood of a car at ground level. Uncrossing her legs, she slid down the bonnet and landed on her feet, then settled back to lean against the damaged chassis.
"What happened with the whaling ship?" he asked, when she offered no words.
"I damaged some of the equipment of the ship, a little," she admitted without any guilt whatsoever. "I instructed the whales on how to escape. Then I appeared on the deck of the ship and told the whalers that I am an angel of the Lord, and that if they continue to hunt whales they will suffer divine retribution. I believe they were convinced. I was unable, however, to save the dying whale."
"Is this going to happen every time you see an animal being killed?"
She shook her head, folding her arms across her chest. "I having nothing against people hunting animals, ordinarily. There are tribes of people living in the extreme norths of the Earth who require whale meat and blubber and oil to survive, but they hunt only a couple of times a year, and their equipment is not as sophisticated. The whales stand a chance of surviving. But that ship today... the whalers did not need the whale to survive. They live in a place where there are many different things to eat, and many different ways of staying warm, and winter is not deadly to the unprepared. They were whaling for their own profit.
"There is a natural order to things, Bobby. Predators hunt prey for food. They do not hunt their prey to extinction; not even monsters do that. I hadn't realised before today, how much we angels value order. We strive to maintain order, to maintain the series of checks and balances which keep the world turning. In many ways, humanity is in opposition to order. Your kind break rules. You wipe out entire species just because they are in your way. I find myself... conflicted."
"In what way?" he asked.
"I find chaos abhorrent. It goes against everything that I am, everything that my Father made me. All angels need rules to follow. And yet... at the same time... I find the rules too restrictive. And worse, different people can interpret rules in different ways, bending them to their own whims, subverting them to follow a particular agenda. Even I am guilty of it. And despite my distaste for chaos, I cannot help but appreciate the chaos that is inherent within your species. My Father made you this way, and he asked us to love you for what you are. And so I see the goodness within the chaos of humanity; your works of creation, your art and music, your altruism and acts of kindness. But I also see the bad aspects, too; pettiness, cruelty, selfish acts and wanton destruction. Every single one of you carry the capacity for all of these traits, both light and dark, within you, and at any moment you can change from one to the other, or stay constantly between them. How do I know which humans are worth saving?"
"Ava," he said, rolling closer to her, "I can't give you the answers to your questions. I suspect you know that already. And you know you won't find answers in Heaven, otherwise you wouldn't have come here. The questions you're asking do not have clear-cut yes or no answers; they are questions that scholars spend an entire lifetime musing over, and not everybody ends up with an answer. The only way you're going to find answers to your questions is to go and experience as much as you can. Form your own opinions, make your own judgements, and hopefully find the answers yourself."
"It seems a very inconvenient way of getting answers," she said, with a sad smile. "It would be much easier if parents told their children everything they need to know."
"But kids will always think they know better. Just look at those two idjits," he said, pointing his thumb back at the house. "Besides, finding answers is part of human existence. If we were told everything we need to know, we wouldn't have reason to experience it ourselves."
"There is more to being human than I had initially thought," she admitted. "I've spent thousands of years Watching, and still I feel as if I know so little."
"Then maybe it's time for you to learn more."
"I am learning," she assured him. "You have taught me so much already."
"A man... or a woman... needs more than one teacher, though." He judged that the time was right to broach the subject of letting her go her own way. "Do you enjoy staying here, and having to obey my every command?"
She shrugged. "It is... helpful."
That was the last thing he had expected her to say, and he gestured for her to elaborate.
"As I said before, angels have a natural affinity for order. We appreciate rules, and are good at following them. As I no longer follow the rules of Heaven, it has been reassuring to have your orders to follow." She hesitated before continuing. "I know it has not been easy for you, having me here. I've asked a lot of questions, and my activities have not always been conducive to successful research. I will endeavour to be quieter, from now on."
"There's no need for that, Ava," he sighed. This was exactly why he hadn't wanted the responsibility of her oath in the first place. He was the last person in the world who ought to be influencing a young, impressionable mind, even if said mind was a several-thousand years old near-omnipresent celestial being. Hell, he didn't even want the responsibility of a normal human kid, and he suspected that screwing up Ava could end much worse than screwing up a kid. "The truth is, I've enjoyed having you around. Those times we went hunting... well, it made me feel useful again. But I can see that being here is holding you back. There is a lot of good you can do for the world, and a lot for you to learn. I will always be here for you, but I think it's time that you went and did your own thing."
"I suspected you might say something like this," she admitted. She stood up straight and faced his chair. "You have been good to me, Bobby. Were I human, I would want to have a father just like you. I think Sam and Dean take it for granted, sometimes, how lucky they are to have you in their lives."
"Well now you're just embarrassing me," he said, but Ava's words secretly warmed him inside.
"My apologies." She gave him a smile. "I have observed that many humans find expressions of gratitude and fondness to be socially awkward. I'll try to refrain in future. Now, tell me what you would like me to do next."
"Well... there's a whole world out there, for you to experience. A whole world of people to help. From now on, you can do whatever you choose, but my initial orders still stand. You are to keep your oath of obedience, you are not to harm or betray us in any way, and you must speak only the truth to me. As for everything else... it's your life now. You make the decisions. Come back whenever you like."
"You're not going to give me an order such as 'don't kill any humans'?" she queried.
"No. I'm going to leave such things to your conscience. The more I restrict you with rules, the less you'll learn."
"Very wise," she nodded. "I can see, now, that I made the right choice in swearing my oath of obedience to you. I will always come when you summon me, Bobby."
"Good to know."
"I am not going to say goodbye," she said. "Because this is not goodbye."
"Heh, that's fine with me," he agreed. It wasn't as if she was leaving forever; she could return any time she wished. He was rubbish at goodbyes, anyway.
She glanced at the house. "Would you pass on my non-goodbyes to Sam and Dean for me?"
"Of course." He held out his hand to her, and she took it, allowing him to shake it. "Good luck, Ava. Let me know if there's anything you need."
"And to you, Bobby. I will return if I find anything of use in our fight against the apocalypse. Take care of yourself."
She took a step back, and teleported, leaving only a brief gust of wind which blew up a few dust particles from the ground. For several minutes he continued to sit and look at the empty space where she had been, and wondered where she had just travelled to. Was she still in America, or was she on another continent completely? Would she use her newfound freedom to protect humanity from the world, or to protect the world from humanity? The answers, he suspected, would come with time. For now, he had an apocalypse to avert.
He wheeled himself back to the house.
- o -
Author's Note: Here ends book one of Fallen. I hope you've enjoyed Avariel's introduction, and the information about the grigori in general. Book two has already been written, and I'll be publishing it in the New Year. Following a two week break, I'll be returning to my Friday publishing schedule on 22nd November with a brand new Deadpool story, which is a sequel to my previous Wolverine fic (No I In Team). I hope you'll join me then!