A/N: Hello. So I'm going to Albuquerque this weekend so I figured I might as well get the chapter up as fast as I can.
Here ya go.
Chapter 5: Oblivion
Thirty minutes later, Madeline came storming through the motel room with a bursting paper bag in one arm and a carrying carton with three coffee cups on it. She set them down angrily on the small desk and slammed the door, muttering words so fast that it sounded like gibberish to SAam and Dean, who were watching her in confusion. She then whipped out her knife she kept tucked in her waistband and sliced open her right hand, not showing the slightest bit of pain. She then ran back over to the slammed door and dragged her bloodied hand all over the door. Once Dean realized what she was drawing in her blood, he got up and and ran to her saying, "Hey, hey, hey, woah no no no!" But it was too late. Castiel had appeared into the room and barely had enough time to say Madeline's name before she slammed her hand onto the bloody symbol and he disappeared with a bright white flash. Madeline took her hand off the door and went over to her bag where she retrieved a large bandage and started wrapping up her bleeding hand. Dean approached her and looked down at his younger sister.
"What the hell what that about!" He shouted. Madeline tore off the end of the bandage with her teeth and wrapped it tightly around her hand.
"I needed him out of here," she said. Dean thought he heard her voice crack but he ignored it.
"So you angel-flashed him outta nowhere? You can't just do that for no reason!"
"Believe me, I had a reason." Madeline tried to shove her way past Dean, but he grabbed her tightly by her shoulders. Madeline, not liking the restriction, quickly reached around Dean for the pocket knife she knew he had tucked in the back of his jeans before he even knew what happened. She flipped out the shiny object and held the point just under his chin.
"Get the hell out of my way," she said in a low voice. Dean looked into her threatening green eyes with his own.
"You wouldn't," he said, referring to the knife.
"Yeah? Try me," she said. She gently pushed the knife up into his skin just enough so it pricked the surface, spilling out a tiny drop of blood. Dean winced and let her go. Madeline dropped the pocketknife onto the floor and ran into the bathroom where she slammed the door loudly shut. A moment later, Sam and Dean heard the sound of a muffled scream of frustration.
Dean turned to Sam who had been sitting at the desk, reading the local paper the entire time.
"So what, do you think it's like her...ya know time of the month or something?" Dean asked Sam when he heard Madeline's frustrated scream.
"With her, who can tell?" Sam said, thoroughly engrossed in his newspaper.
"Well I sure as hell am not gonna be around when that happens. I mean, can you imagine the massacre?" Dean said as he sat down. He rubbed his sleep deprived eyes and listened to the silence that followed the occasional scream that came from the bathroom.
"What do you think her problem is?" Sam asked, putting the paper down. "Why was she so mad at Cas?" Dean looks up.
"Because it's Cas. He's a child. He blurts out whatever pops into that head of his..." Dean trailed off, wiping the blood off the bottom of his strong chin with his shirt sleeve.
"And Madeline isn't exactly what one might describe as low tempered..." Sam said. The boys ears perked up at the sudden noise. Or lack of noise, really.
"She stopped," Sam stated in relief.
"Or maybe she killed herself," Dean offered, looking over at his younger brother.
"Oh, come on. She did not kill herself. She's not that unpredictable," Sam said.
"Yeah," Dean said standing up. "Cause predictable is exactly the word I think of when I hear 'Madeline'," he said walking over to the bathroom. He jiggled the doorknob expecting it to be locked. Of course, it was. He quickly picked it and opened the door, expecting the bathroom to be in complete disarray. Instead, it was completely clean, with the exception of a few towels splayed on the ground. Madeline was nowhere to be seen. Sam followed Dean into the bathroom and walked over to the closed shower curtain and yanked it open. And sure enough, there was Madeline, curled up in a ball facing away from Sam and Dean with her head resting on a bunched up towel as a pillow. The tub had faint streaks of crimson blood from the wound in her hand and from her leg, as she had ripped open her stitches from the stab wound during her rampage. Sam inched close enough to see the faint up and down motion of her body breathing. Sam breathed a sigh of relief he didn't know he'd been holding and held out a gesturing hand towards Madeline and said to Dean, "See? Not dead."
"Leave," they heard Madeline say in a small voice. Dean raised his hands in surrender and quietly walked out of the room. A moment later, Sam heard the quiet clicking away of the keyboard on the laptop.
Sam quietly inched closer and closer to the edge of the bathtub where Madeline lay until he was kneeling on the cold linoleum floors.
"Madeline?" He asked.
"Leave," she said again. A little stronger this time. Sam of course ignored this and scooted closer.
"What did Cas say to you?" He asked gently.
Silence. Then, "Nothing." Sam scoffed at her word.
"Come on. You really expect me to believe that Cas said nothing and you angel-flash him outta here and threaten Dean and then curl up in a freaking bathtub?"
"Get used to it," she said. Sam leaned his back up against the wall and tilted his head back.
"So what did he say to you?" He asked again. He heard a shuffling in the bathtub and looked down to see that Madeline had sat up and turned to face him. Her knees were tucked up to her chest and she had wrapped her arms around them, shielding herself from the world. Though she was still wearing her trademark scowl on her flushed face, Sam thought this was the most vulnerable he had ever seen her. He could see her hand had bled through its bandage.
"It's none of your damn business," she said. Sam scoffed.
"Look, you gotta help me understand here."
"That's the thing. I don't want you to understand. Not now..." She trailed off.
"So you'll eventually tell us?" He said, regaining hope for a moment.
"Maybe not Dean. But yeah. Maybe." Sam sighed what seemed like the biggest sigh on the planet. As if the weight of the world was resting on his shoulder. Which in a way, it was.
"I know what you're thinking," Madeline said barely above a whisper. Sam looked at her with scrunched eyebrows and shrugged his broad shoulders.
"How did I know how to flash angels away?" Sam nodded with interest.
"I've dealt with those tricky bastards before. And that's my favorite way to get rid of them for a while. You probably know that, right?" Sam nodded again.
"I know a lot more about you and Dean than you think, Sam. Don't treat me like a kid," Madeline said as she stretched out her bad leg and winced at the ripped stitches. The blood had soaked through her jeans and streaked across the tub.
"Do you want me to fix that for you? Your stitches?" He asked, gesturing to her leg.
"Shut up, I can do it myself."
"Mads, you just sliced your hand open." Madeline bit her lower lip and hesitated before she nodded her head slowly.
Sam's delicate hands had fixed up Madeline's stitches in no time. She even complimented that they were better than the originals. Of course, she said this after she made a comment about him having girly hands.
Madeline walked out of the bathroom with Sam once Sam had finished fixing her stitches. Dean was busy, eyes glued to the laptop. Madeline hobbled over and sat on the desk the laptop was on. Dean only glanced up at her and his eyes went back to the softly glowing screen. With a finger, Madeline shut the laptop. Dean looked up at her solidly.
"What?" He said.
"When are we going to pay Ryan a visit?" She asked.
"Never," he said shortly.
"What?" Sam asked.
"You heard me," Dean said.
"Dean, this Ryan guy is probably the only source we have on this," Sam explained. Dean opened the laptop again and turned it around so Madeline and Sam could see.
"Well 'this Ryan guy' is in jail. On account of theft. You sure he's not related to you, Mad?" Dean smirked slightly at Madeline as he said his last sentence.
"I dunno. Is Elvis related to you, Dean?" Madeline asked sarcastically. Dean looked at her strangely, as did Sam.
"Yeah, I have a weird sense of humor," she trailed off and hopped off the desk and sat on the floor instead.
"Is it possible he was possessed?" Sam asked.
"Nah," Madeline said. "Unfortunately, Ryan has a taste for the finer things but not the money for it. Definitely him. Plus, he wears an anti-possession charm."
"Do you?" Dean said as he leaned back in his seat. Madeline pulled up her shirt sleeve to reveal the inside of her right wrist. Sam and Dean could see the fiery licks of the pattern of the anti-possession charm burned into her flesh.
"I'm no idiot. I re-brand myself every now and then to keep it fresh," Madeline said as she yanked her sleeve back up to hide the burned in scar.
"We're going to Bobby's tomorrow," Dean said.
"Who's Bobby?" Madeline asked from the floor.
"He's a friend in Sioux Falls, South Dakota," Sam said to her. "Kind of our go-to guy when it comes to stuff like this."
"Stuff even like instruments of the apocalypse?"
"Even that."
They took off early the next morning in preparation for the long drive from Fargo to Sioux Falls and had gotten there early the next afternoon. They knocked on Bobby's old, beat up wooden door at precisely 1:15 in the afternoon. The creaky door opened and the boys looked down to see Bobby looking up from his wheelchair with a surprised look on his face.
"Well I wasn't expecting the two of you, that's for sure," said the bearded man.
"Bobby, we've got a problem," said Dean. Bobby looked at both of them.
"The usual or a real problem?" He asked.
"Oh, trust me. It's a big problem," Dean said as the tall boys parted to reveal their shorter sister.
"Bobby, Madeline. Madeline, Bobby. This is our sister," said Sam slowly. The three siblings watched as the mans eyes widened a fraction of an inch.
"Rendered silent. I seem to have that effect on people," Madeline said. Bobby looked once at Madeline, then at Dean.
"Yeah, she's definitely your sister, boy," Bobby said directly at Dean. He then wheeled himself inside his cluttered home. The three siblings followed the rolling man. Madeline looked around in awe. Mostly at the vast collection of books. She had loved to read and would go through books like they were nothing, simply absorbing all the words and tales they had to offer. She observed everything around her. Noticing the secret escapes that weren't so secret, the devils trap painted onto the ceiling, the cluttered trinkets and toys that had once belonged to someone but now were doomed to be bound to this house. She took in everything all at once where it would be forever locked in her head.
"So what's the problem?" Bobby asked once they entered the living room.
"It came in the door with us," Dean muttered. Madeline pretended not to notice what Dean said.
"So, Madeline?" Bobby asked as he wheeled himself over to her. "Got a last name?"
"Yup. It's Kennedy," Madeline said sarcastically. Bobby sighed heavily.
"Your real last name," he said.
"Devereaux," she said sharply. Bobby's eyes widened yet again and he rubbed his temples slightly.
"Balls," he cursed. He wheeled himself over to Sam and Dean. "You two are related to a damn Devereaux?" He practically shouted at them. Madeline scoffed and turned to Bobby.
"Hey, professor Hawking. How's the weather down there?" Madeline smirked at her comeback. Bobby simply glared at her.
"Mad, just go downstairs for a minute," Dean said. Madeline stood her ground for a moment before she gave in and trudged down the creaky stairs that led to the basement. Once the three men heard the door shut, they resumed their stance.
"Since when do you two idjits have a sister?" Bobby asked in disbelief.
"Since about a week ago," said Sam. The two brothers sat down on the couch with Bobby sitting across from them.
"Well then why did you have to bring her here? I don't need no snarky, arrogant, reckless teenagers in my house!"
"Because she's important," said Sam.
"Or at least Cas seems to think so," Dean said leaning forward in his seat.
"What's so important about her?" Bobby asked.
"Cas says that she's an instrument of the apocalypse. Or a weapon of some sort," Sam explained.
Bobby paused and rubbed his beard.
"And you expect me to know what that means?"
"We were hoping you could try," Dean bargained. Bobby looked between the two of them. He heaved a heavy sigh and rolled himself over to his desk.
"I'll start lookin. You boys go get some rest. You both look like hell."
Of course, they didn't just 'rest up'. Dean spent the rest of the day wandering around the car yard, mostly fixing up the impala from the accident in Des Moines and the remainder of the time fixing up the other cars. Sam however, after numerous protests from Bobby, was helping him out in researching what Cas meant by apocalyptic instruments.
Madeline was a different story. She had been exploring the basement for a while, scoping out the vast collection of weapons. And then, without anyone hearing her, she quietly creeped upstairs and explored Bobby's extensive collection of books. Books ranging from lore on any monster you could think of, books written in dead languages, biographies, even a few classics by authors like Austen or Tolstoy or Conan Doyle and even Dickens. Madeline went for those immediately. She picked up a dusty copy of Tolstoy's 'Anna Karenina' and opened it to find to her surprise that it was written in its original translation. Russian. She smiled. She especially enjoyed reading books in foreign languages. Russian though, was her forte out of all the languages she knew. She had studied it extensively in school, along with Welsh, French, and Norwegian. She grabbed several of the books along with a half full bottle of brandy she had found and headed down into the demon proof bunker she had discovered when she was being down there for a few hours, to her surprise, no one had come looking for her. She took comfort in that.
Dean woke up the next morning at precisely 6:45 in the morning. As per usual, he hadn't slept well at all. He showered quickly and was wandering down the hall and into the kitchen, ruffling his wet hair. About halfway there, he stopped in his tracks at the sound. Where there should have been no sound, there was. He heard a faint, jazzy sounding melody along with a light sizzling noise coming from the kitchen. Dean grabbed the nearby flask full of holy water and took light steps toward the kitchen. As he got closer, the melody grew louder as did the sizzling. When the kitchen came into view, he relaxed a bit as he saw Madeline.
Singing.
And cooking.
'What?' He thought to himself. He walked closer to the kitchen so that he was peering around the entrance to the kitchen. From where he was standing he could make out the words to the bluesy tune that Madeline's mellow voicerolled out.
"We're the oyster crackers on the stew,
And the honey in the tea
Like the sugar cubes, one lump or two,
In the black coffee
The golden crust on the apple pie
That shines in the sun at noon
Like the wheel of cheese, high in the sky..."
Dean found himself relaxing as he listened to her smooth voice. She certainly wasn't American idol material, but she had a certain bluesy, mellow quality that made her voice pleasant to listen to. Snapping out of his reverie, he rounded the corner into the kitchen.
"I had no idea you liked to sing," he said as he entered the room. Madeline jumped a bit at the sound of his voice and stopped stirring what she had cooking in the pan. She immediately stopped singing her silly children's song.
Dean could see that she was indeed making scrambled eggs. And they smelled delicious.
"Only when creepy older brothers with terrible aim and a thing for angels aren't around," she said as she went back to her eggs.
"Thing for angels?" Dean sputtered.
"Anna," she said plainly. Dean figured he wouldn't ask about how she knew about Anna. He already knew what her answer would be. Instead he picked up the open copy of Anna Karenina that was lain upon a pile of other books.
"Did you read all of these in one day?" He asked incredulously. Madeline nodded her head as she sprinkled some spices into the frying pan.
"Including this?" He asked, holding up Anna Karenina. Madeline turned her head and nodded at the book.
"But it's in Russian," he protested.
"What makes you think I don't know Russian?" She asked. Dean looked at her with a slightly confused look.
"Maybe because you're American," he said.
"Zatknut'sya do YA l'yu spirt v vashi yaytsa," she said as she scooped the steaming hot eggs on to two separate plates and placed them on the small end table. Dean looked mildly surprised at her Russian tongue and even more surprised at the fact that she set out a place for him at the table. Madeline sat down with a piping hot mug of black coffee and looked back at Dean. She pointed to the eggs sitting across from her.
"You know those are for you, right?" Dean nodded as he took the hint and poured himself a cup of black coffee and sat across from Madeline who had already started eating.
"So what are you doing up so early?" Madeline asked through a mouthful of food. Dean took a long gulp of his coffee.
"Didn't sleep. You?"
"I don't sleep."
"Probably cause of all the damn reading you do."
"Hey, don't bash on me cause I like reading."
"I do it to Sam, I'll do it to you too," Dean said as he took a bite of his eggs. As he did so, his eyes lolled to the back of his head and he closed his eyes and moaned in ecstasy. They were certainly the best damn eggs he had ever had in his life.
"Oh, my GOD," he exclaimed. "What else can you cook?"
"Crunchy pasta," Madeline replied, taking a gulp of her coffee. Dean shrugged and gobbled down the rest of his eggs in a heartbeat and dropped the fork with a clank onto his clean plate. Madeline leaned back in her seat at watched.
"So why don't you sleep?" She asked out of the blue. Dean looked up.
"Well, believe it or not, but the apocalypse is pretty damn stressful," he said. "You?" He said, finishing the rest of his coffee.
"Well, believe it or not, but I'm a diagnosed insomniac," she said, sinking into her chair.
"Nice try," Dean said with a smirk. "What's the real reason?"
Madeline sat up and leaned forward into the table.
"That is the real reason. I have meds and everything. They don't work."
"Fine then why are you an insomniac?" Dean asked. Madeline fell back into her seat again.
"Isn't that life's mystery?" She asked sarcastically. She wasn't going to dare tell Dean the real reason why she didn't sleep.
"Well then answer me this," Dean said. "You seem like a real smart kid. Why don't you do something worthwhile like go to college or something?" Madeline shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with all of the questions. She took a shaky breath. She felt a headache coming on. She squinted her eyes shut but the headache forced her to keep her eyes open. She looked up at Dean who gave her a concerned look. Clearly, she hadn't been masking the pain as well as she thought she was.
Slowly, as the pain grew stronger, she saw Deans face morph into the familiar face of a middle aged man. A face that terrified her. A dead face. She had never seen this face in her hallucinations before.
"No, that's not possible," she whispered.
"What's not possible?" She expected to hear Deans low voice but it wasn't his. Her hallucination had completely transformed him into the person she hated most.
Out if the corner of her eye, she saw a knife appear on the table. Her stomach clenched, and she stood up abruptly from her chair, knocking it backwards. The man also stood up, wearing a scowl on his face that she remembered far too well. She reached around her and grabbed her gun that was in her waistband. She clicks the safety off and aimed at the center of his forehead.
"Get away from me," she said, her voice faltering.
Dean stood up, unsure of what was happening. He raised his hands in the air as a sign of surrender.
"Madeline-"
"Get away from me!" She yelled. "Or I swear I will kill you over and over again until you leave me the hell alone!" Dean saw her lip quiver for a minuscule second and the panicked look on her face. Something was happening inside of her head that was causing her to act this way. He knew she always had some logical reason to pull a gun on someone, no matter how crazy.
Dean heard a pounding of footsteps in the house and Sam's familiar voice call him. Dean stood dead still as he practically was looking down the barrel of Madeline's shaking gun.
The pain in Madeline's head increased as she heard a ringing noise become louder and louder until it was so deafening that she dropped her gun and clamped her hands over her ears so tight, she thought for a second she might crush her own head.
She fell to her knees as the noise grew impossibly louder. The man approached her as she fell and she screamed in response. She felt black oblivion close in on the rims of her eyes. The ringing slowly faded out and she heard two men shouting at each other.
Darkness came closer. She felt herself fall backwards and ignored the pain that came with her head banging against the tile floor.
She thought of her children's song and it comforted her.
As she drifted into oblivion, she thought of the last lines of the song.
We're gonna be sinkin' soon.
Everybody, hold your breath,
And down and down we go.
Well? Good? Bad? Ugly?
Not sure if I should continue with this story. Let me know what you think.
Constructive criticism is welcome and even encouraged!
Have a delicious weekend.