Chapter 4
Then:
"Oh, yeah? You're sorry you started Armageddon? This kind of thing don't get forgiven, boy. If, by some miracle, we pull this off...I want you to lose my number. You understand me?" Now that doesn't sound like Bobby, but it doesn't stop the hurt flashing across Sam's face. Sam ducks his head and nods sharply, clearly fighting tears. Dean still says nothing, his expression stony.
"There's an old church nearby. Maybe I'll go read some of the lore books there," Sam suggests quietly.
"Yeah, you do that." Bobby crosses his arms as Sam turns to leave. I move around Sam to stand next to Dean before smacking him upside the head.
He starts and rubs his head. "Woman!" I hit him again before following Sam out the door.
Now:
Sam stops halfway down the street when he hears my footsteps behind him, but doesn't look at me. "You don't have to come with me."
"I know." I catch up to him, stopping when I'm at his side.
"You heard what I did. It's my fault Lucifer's free, that all of this started." His voice breaks slightly and he shuts his eyes with a sharp inhale, turning away from me.
"It's kind of like when I failed Organic Chemistry last semester," I note.
Sam snorts, even though it sounds more like he's holding back a strangled sob. "Failing a class and ending the world are kinda different."
"Wait, hear me out on this one. Thing is, I'd studied really hard for that final, and slacked off all my other classes to do that. I thought I'd aced it. Turned out I'd gotten a twenty percent, which meant I'd failed the class, too." Sam is silent, still facing away from me, but I can tell he's listening. "You thought you were doing the right thing by killing Lilith. She's the one who sent Dean to hell, right? That was the last book of the series." Sam nods once. "So it was about revenge, and stopping the Apocalypse. So you slack off on maintaining your relationship with your brother to take that opportunity. But it turns out the opposite of what you'd planned: Lilith wanted you to kill her, and Ruby manipulated you into that situation."
"I chose her over Dean." Sam's fists clench with the exertion of fighting his emotions. "That...I can't be forgiven for that."
"You guys are much angstier than the books give you credit for," I tell him frankly. This seems to lighten the mood, because Sam chuckles weakly as he turns to face me at last. His eyes are bright with unshed tears, but he's smiling all the same. That counts as a success to me. "Look, let's just head back to the motel, do the research there. Bobby and Dean are douchebags, we get it, but we can smack some sense into them - we meaning just me, of course," I add and Sam grins again. "-and we'll all save the day and skip merrily off into the sunset."
"Sounds good to me," he agrees and I attempt to throw my arm around his broad shoulders. I can't quite reach, since I'm more than a foot shorter, so I settle for looping my arm through his. With a smile, Sam turns and heads back to the motel room with me in tow.
When we open the door, we expect to find Bobby or Dean glaring at us. Instead, Bobby's bleeding from a stab wound on the floor, the famous demon-killing knife still embedded in his abdomen, and Dean is pinned to the floor by a man with pitch-black eyes. I don't mean his irises are black. I mean his eyes are black.
"No!" Sam releases me and rushes to Bobby's side, but a woman with black eyes steps into his path. I stumble to the side, terrified and scrambling for something to use against the demons.
"Heya, Sammy. You miss me?" the woman sneers, "'Cause I sure missed you."
"Meg?" I'm surprised Sam recognizes her so quickly, since I only really remember her from the first season as the short-haired blonde demon. He swings at her and misses while Dean struggles uselessly against the grip of the demon holding him down. Meg takes the opportunity to kick Sam in the crotch and send him down.
I'm frozen in place; the blood on the floor surrounding Bobby has scared me into stopping in my tracks. I force my arm back over the table and my fingers brush over something cold and metal. Yanking on it, I come up with a metal flask with a cross engraved on it.
As I uncap it, I pray that it's holy water and even as Meg taunts Sam with something along the lines of "Not so easy without those super-special demon powers, huh, Sammy?", I splash the contents in her face. She shrieks and stumbles back, her skin smoking as the holy water burns her, and the male demon is distracted. This allows Dean to knock him off and scramble to his own feet. He grabs the demon-killing knife from Bobby's stomach - I wince at the sickening sound of metal being pulled from flesh - and stabs the male demon with it.
It's morbidly satisfying to watch a demon die, and the television doesn't do it justice. Amber light flickers within the demon's body, highlighting his vessel's skeleton, and he crumples, dead. As Dean straightens and turns to a recovered Meg, she screams and black smoke escapes her mouth. It zooms towards me and I duck out of the way, causing the smoke to smash through the window and disappear. The woman she had been possessing collapses to the floor lifelessly and Dean puts away the knife at last.
"Bobby," Sam croaks at last, stumbling to his feet and dropping to his knees again next to the prone form of the older hunter. Dean turns his attention to Bobby, too, his eyes wide with worry.
"Should we call an ambulance?" I suggest helplessly, my voice cracking with panic. I may not have known Bobby for long, but I sure as hell don't want him dead.
"No time," Dean says gruffly, "We'll take him in the car. Sam?" Sam nods and lifts Bobby up, making it look almost effortless. Dean grabs the keys to the Impala and runs out the door, Sam following, and I leave the motel room last so that I won't get in the way.
Dean jerks his head to the backseat and Sam places Bobby inside before climbing in with him. "Kid, front." I obey, something in the back of my mind absently noting that Dean rarely extends this privilege to people other than Sam, and if this wasn't such a high-stress situation, he never would have allowed me to sit up front.
The car ride to the nearest hospital is tense and short, and I'll admit to being glad it's over when we park haphazardly in a spot and rush into the emergency room.
"Need some help here!" Dean shouts as we run in, Sam still carrying Bobby.
"What happened?" a nurse demands, looking shocked at our blood-covered forms.
"He was stabbed." Sam lowers Bobby onto a gurney nearby and two other nurses wheel the older man away. We move to follow, but the first nurse stops us.
"You wait here. I have some questions for you." She turns to follow the nurses into the trauma ward and we hesitate.
"We've gotta go," Dean decides at last.
"We can't leave him," Sam protests.
"The demons heard where the sword is. We've got to get to it before they do, if we're not too late already." Dean huffs exasperatedly when he sees our unconvinced expressions. "Look, the kid can stay here-"
"Absolutely not," I interrupt, wide-eyed. I'm relatively sure I'm traumatized by our recent experience and I have no intention of being an open target.
"Fine," Dean snaps back at me, irritated for wasting time, before looking back at Sam, who reluctantly nods. "C'mon." He heads back out to the Impala as Sam and I follow him.
I resume my place in the backseat while Sam takes the front with Dean, trying not to look at the bloodstain where Bobby had bled in the car. The engine roars to life as Dean slams on the acceleration. We peal out of the parking lot and join the highway.
"Where are we going?" Sam asks quietly once we were a few minutes away from the hospital.
"Upstate New York. Dad had a lockup there, Castle Storage. 42 Rover Hill."
"A castle on a hill made of forty-two dogs," I echo the bizarre message Becky had given us and Dean nods to me in the rearview mirror. "You think your dad had the Michael Sword?"
"It's worth checking," Sam points out.
Turns out it was worth checking, because when we arrive there, there are several dead demons on the floor. Their eyes are burned out of their heads and I'm forced to remind myself that I'm not supposed to be squeamish.
"What the hell?" Dean demands to neither Sam nor me in particular, looking around as he lowers the shotgun in his hands. Sam, too, lowers his shotgun. I haven't been trusted with a weapon, and with good reason.
"I see you told the demons where the Michael Sword is." I pray that the owner of that voice is not who I think it is, but when I turn, there's Zachariah in all his bald angelic glory, backed up by the same two angel flunkies.
"Oh, thank God. The angels are here," Dean deadpans and I wonder if he's blaspheming by thanking God sarcastically. Who am I kidding? This is Dean. Of course he is.
"And to think, they could have grabbed it any time they wanted," Zachariah continues without acknowledging Dean. He waves his hand and the door closes. I'm starting to feel like I've been shoved into a horror film rather than Supernatural. "It was right in front of them."
"What do you mean?" Sam pipes up, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. I remember where this is going now at last, and I feel like such an idiot. And I claim to be a fan of the show.
"We may have planted that particular piece of prophecy inside Chuck's skull, but it happened to be true. We did lose the Michael Sword. We truly couldn't find it. Until now. You've just hand-delivered it to us." Zachariah's eyes flicker to me. "Judging by how pale little Ariel's gotten, I think she's just figured it out."
"Air?" Sam and Dean turn to me, both frowning.
"It's you," I say at last, looking up at Dean before dropping my gaze to the floor again.
"What?" Dean says blankly.
"What, you thought you could actually kill Lucifer?" Zachariah cuts in, seeing that my explanation isn't enough. "You simpering wad of insecurity and self-loathing? No. You're just a human, Dean. And not much of one." That's a little harsh.
"What do you mean, I'm the sword?" Dean prompts, scowling.
"You're Michael's weapon. Or, rather, his...receptacle."
"...I'm a vessel?" Dean croaks.
"You're the vessel. Michael's vessel."
"How? Why - why me?" Sam and I watch on, the former stunned and scared and the latter, A.K.A. me, feeling more and more like I've dug myself into a deeper grave.
"Because you're chosen! It's a great honor, Dean."
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, life as an angel condom. That's real fun. I think I'll pass, thanks." As much as I love Dean's sarcasm, I'm not sure his timing is appropriate.
Zachariah doesn't look impressed, either. "Joking. Always joking. Well...no more jokes." He raises a hand and points it at me like a gun. "Bang." Two cracks echo through the room simultaneously and a sharp piercing sensation shoots up my spine as I crumple, my legs no longer able to hold me up.
Sam catches me, lowering me to the floor carefully even as he calls my name, startled, but I can't answer him as I struggle to breathe through the blinding agony of having both my legs broken at the same time.
"You son of a bitch," Dean snarls, turning on Zachariah, and somewhere through the haze of pain, I find myself touched that he and Sam are defending a girl they barely know.
"Keep mouthing off, I'll break more than the little princess's legs. I am completely and utterly through screwing around." I can barely hear Zachariah, but he sounds angry. I bury my face into Sam's shoulder and he slips his hand into mine. I squeeze his fingers so hard that I'm afraid they'll break, too. "The war has begun. We don't have our general. That's bad. Now, Michael is going to take his vessel and lead the final charge against the adversary. You understand me?"
"How many humans die in the crossfire, huh? A million? Five, ten?" Dean demands.
"Probably more," Zachariah says matter-of-factly, "If Lucifer goes unchecked, you know how many die? All of them. He'll roast the planet alive."
"There's a reason you're telling me this instead of just nabbing me. You need my consent. Michael needs my say-so to ride around in my skin." Sam's grip tightens on me slightly at Dean's observation. "There's gotta be another way."
"There is no other way. There must be a battle. Michael must defeat the Serpent. It is written."
"Yeah, maybe. But, on the other hand...eat me. The answer's no." I wish I wasn't concentrating so much on breathing through the pain, because I want to either hug or high-five Dean.
"Okay. How about this? Your friend, Bobby. We know he's gravely injured. Say yes, and we'll heal him. Say no, he'll never walk again." Now that's just unfair. I mean, Dean's already compromised because of some random kid he and Sam dragged along, but now Zachariah's threatening people he actually cares about? I wonder if I can draw an angel-banishing sigil without being noticed, assuming I'd remember the shape.
Dean hesitates before replying, "No."
"Then how about we heal you from...stage-four stomach cancer?" Dean doubles over then and I see him coughing into his hand. Dark red liquid - blood- drips from his palm.
"No," he rasps again.
"Then let's get really creative. Uh, let's see how...Sam does without his lungs." Sam lets out a strangled gasp suddenly and releases me, collapsing to the floor.
"Sam!" I press my hand to his chest, trying to ground him as he had done for me, and he gasps again, trying to draw rattling breaths into lungs that simply aren't there, and tears burn my eyes as I watch him convulse on the ground.
"Stop it!" Dean says sharply and I turn back to see him glancing between Sam and Zachariah desperately.
"Are we having fun yet? You're going to say yes, Dean." Zachariah smiles serenely.
"Just kill us," Dean retorts harshly.
"Kill you? Oh, no. I'm just getting started." Before Zachariah can do just that, though, a white light flashes behind him. One of the angels behind him crumples, a bloody hole torn in his throat - the sight makes me slightly nauseous, but I force the bile down - revealing a familiar shock of black hair and the bluest eyes I've ever seen.
"Cas," Dean says, his tone almost reverent, and I feel a rush of relief. Sam shudders slightly, trying to shift upwards to see Castiel, but unable to do so. I press down on his chest a little further so that he'll stay where he is. Castiel doesn't respond to Dean, but instead slams the other unknown angel against the wall and stabs him in the chest, another white light illuminating the room.
As Zachariah stares, Castiel tears his blade out of the dead angel's chest and takes a menacing step towards Zachariah. Sam takes a shaky breath, his heartbeat stuttering beneath my palm before stopping completely. My attention is torn away from Castiel as I shake Sam's shoulder desperately, the tears in my eyes spilling over. Dean doesn't spare either of us a single look even as I say Sam's name through sobs, shaking him even harder.
"How are you-?" Zachariah begins.
"Alive? That's a good question. How did the Winchesters and the girl end up on that airplane? Another good question. 'Cause the angels didn't do it. I think we both know the answer, don't we?" Castiel's voice is gruff and solemn, but his lips twitch upwards slightly, the closest to a smile I've ever seen him give even on the show.
"No. That's not possible." Zachariah takes a step back.
"It scares you. Well, it should. Now, put them back together and go. I won't ask twice." With a flash of light, Zachariah is gone, and the pain in both my legs vanish. Sam gasps suddenly, his hand scrabbling at his obviously-aching chest, and I finally allow myself to relax as he sits up. I bury my face into his shoulder and he clutches me tightly.
"'S okay, I'm okay," he murmurs hoarsely into my hair before forcing himself to his feet, helping me up in the process. I wobble on my newly-healed legs, but Sam steadies me, and I take the opportunity to wipe my tear-streaked face on my sleeve.
"You need to be more careful," Castiel says, glancing between Sam and Dean before his eyes rest on me. As much as I fangirl over the angel in reality, I've just seen him threaten Zachariah without batting an eye, so I find myself a little intimidated. I huddle against Sam's side nervously.
"Yeah, I'm starting to get that. Your frat brothers are bigger dicks than I thought," Dean says sardonically as he wipes his mouth free of blood on his sleeve.
"I don't mean the angels. Lucifer is circling his vessel. And once he takes it, those hexbags won't be enough to protect you." Castiel steps forward and places a hand on Dean's chest and then Sam's. Both Winchesters gasp as if they've been branded by a hot iron and Castiel withdraws his hands silently.
"What the hell was that?" Dean demands, rubbing his chest.
"An Enochian sigil. It'll hide you from every angel in creation, including Lucifer." Castiel stares at me even as he answers Dean's question, studying me critically. Embarrassed under the scrutiny, I hide my face in Sam's jacket.
"What, did you just brand us with it?" Sam asks, still sounding a little winded.
"No. I carved it into your ribs." Castiel steps closer to me and I automatically step back. "Who are you?" Even though he's looking directly at me, it still takes me a moment to realize he's talking to me.
"Ariel Evans," I say, glad that I don't stammer.
Castiel continues to stare and I'm a little unnerved. "'Ariel' is an angelic name. It means 'lion of God.'"
"Oh." Well, what else am I supposed to say to that?
"And here I was thinkin' she's a little mermaid," Dean snarks and I give him a glare despite the situation.
"You have the sigil carved into your ribs already," Castiel notes and the observation causes all of us to freeze. "That...should not be possible." He finally tears his eyes away from me and I'm relieved that he's no longer studying me. "Keep her safe," he tells Dean and Sam, looking between the hunters, before glancing at me one last time reluctantly. "There's a reason she was brought to this world to aid us in the Apocalypse."
"World?" Sam echoes, raising his eyebrows. I cough, rubbing the back of my neck.
"Um. Can I explain that later?" When neither Sam nor Dean look convinced, I quickly change the subject, "So, uh, Cas, were you really dead?"
Castiel doesn't look impressed with me, but answers grimly, "Yes."
"Then how are you back?" Wordlessly, Castiel vanishes. "Damn. Guess he's not a fan of subject changes." I shuffle nervously under the accusatory glare Dean's throwing at me and the non-accusatory-but-still-confused look Sam gives me.
It takes much longer than I would have liked to get my situation fully explained to Sam and Dean on the way back to the hospital.
"So let me get this straight," Dean says after the second time I've explained it, "You slipped on..."
"Rocksalt," I supply dully.
"Rocksalt," Dean echoes and snorts. "If that ain't ironic, I don't know what is."
"And then you were falling and you just found yourself on the plane?" Sam finishes the story, frowning at me, and I nod. "Is that how you knew us? Through the T.V. show version of Chuck's books?"
When I'd first mentioned Supernatural, Dean's first response had been, "Who'd want to watch a show about our lives?" When I retorted "Becky," though, he had wisely shut up.
"Yeah, except the show goes past where the books end. The last episode I saw was somewhere in Season Five, the first episode of which we're in now," I answer now.
"The first?" Dean stops at a traffic light on the edge of the town, turning to me. "So you know what'll happen next?" He looks a little too eager for answers and I quickly shake my head.
"I haven't seen all the episodes," I admit. "Just bits and pieces. Piper would've been able to tell you more than me."
Dean scowls as he turns back around to start driving again. "Just our luck. Any chance we can switch you out for your roommate?"
"Trust me, she'd be thrilled," I deadpan, looking out the window. "She's much more cut out for hunting than I am."
"You did just fine with Meg and that other demon," Sam points out with a faint smile. "The holy water was some pretty fast thinking. Right, Dean?" Reluctantly, Dean grunts, the closest Sam and I will get to an agreement.
"Appreciate that," I reply with a weary grin of my own.
"'Unlikely to walk again?!' Why, you snot-nosed son of a bitch! Wait till I get out of this bed!" Now that the real Bobby is back, I can't stop grinning at how he verbally abuses a doctor until the poor professional runs out the door. "I'll use my game leg and kick your friggin' ass! Yeah, you better run!"
I snort. "And this is the abuse I'll be subject to if I ever go to medical school. Good to know."
Despite his irritation, Bobby smirks slightly at me before looking back at Sam and Dean. "You believe that yahoo?"
"Screw him, you'll be fine," Dean says almost immediately.
"So, let me ask the million-dollar question. What do we do now?" Sam adds.
"Well, we save as many as we can for as long as we can, I guess," Bobby admits, "It's bad. Whoever wins, Heaven or hell, we're boned."
"Uber-boned," I correct.
"What if we win?" Dean says suddenly and we all stare at him. "I'm serious. I mean, screw the angels and the demons and their crap Apocalypse. Hell, they want to fight a war, they can find their own planet. This one's ours, and I say they get the hell off it. We take 'em all on. We kill the Devil. Hell, we even kill Michael if we have to. But we do it our own damn selves." I half-expect 'Eye of the Tiger' to start jamming away halfway through his speech.
"And how are we supposed to do all this, genius?" Bobby snarks.
"I got no idea. But what I do have is a GED and a give-'em-hell attitude, and I'll figure it out." Dean sounds too confident, though, and with one glance at Sam, we both realize that he's lying.
"You are nine kinds of crazy, boy," Bobby tells Dean, though, smiling wryly.
"It's been said." Dean pats the older man's shoulder. "Listen, you stay on the mend. We'll see you in a bit." He heads for the door and Sam and I follow. I make it out the door when I hear Bobby call Sam back.
"I was awake. I know what I said back there. I just want you to know that...that was the demon talking. I ain't cuttin' you out, boy. Not ever."
Sam glances at me and I shrug my shoulders as if to say "I told you so." With a small sigh, he turns back to Bobby and mumbles, "Thanks, Bobby."
"You're welcome. I deserve a damn medal for this, but you're welcome." Bobby smiles and Sam returns it tiredly before joining me and Dean outside.
We make it out to the car before Sam finally speaks again. "Maybe we could go after the Colt."
"Why? What difference would that make?" That's certainly an about-face given Dean's attitude inside the hospital, and my theory's confirmed.
"Well, we could use it on Lucifer. I mean, you just said back there-" Sam begins, but Dean cuts him off.
"I just said a bunch of crap for Bobby's benefit. I mean, I'll fight. I'll fight till the last man, but let's at least be honest. I mean, we don't stand a snowball's chance, and you know that. I mean, hell, you of all people know that." I hesitate, knowing that I'm intruding on something strictly between the brothers, but there's nowhere else I can wander off to, so I stay.
"Dean, is there something you want to say to me?" Sam shoves his hands into his pockets.
Dean pauses before sighing. "I tried, Sammy. I mean, I really tried. But I just can't keep pretending that everything's all right. Because it's not. And it's never going to be. You chose a demon over your own brother and look what happened."
Oh, for the love of-
"I would give anything to take it all back," Sam insists and just like that, all the work I'd put into convincing him that it was simply a mistake is flushed down the drain.
"I know you would. And I know how sorry you are. I do. But, man...you were the one that I depended on the most. And you let me down in ways that I can't even..." I'm mentally begging Dean to just shut up. I know Sam needs to hear it, but at the same time, Dean's going about it all wrong, too. No wonder this show's so fucked up. "I'm just...I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting here. You know?"
Sam nods without hesitation.
"I just don't...I don't think that we can ever be what we were. I just don't think I can trust you."
Oh, ouch. That's a low blow, and it registers on Sam's face as hurt. Dean hovers indecisively for a moment before getting into the driver's seat. After a moment in which Sam blinks rapidly as if forcing back tears and glances at me briefly with a faint forced smile, he gets into the passenger seat. I slide into the backseat and we leave the hospital parking lot.
Ariel, the world doesn't revolve around Sam.
Ariel: YES IT DOES MY POOR BBY ;_; IswearI'mnotaSamgirlthough
Me: Suuure you aren't. -facepalm- Honestly, the plot's just going everywhere right now, and I promise I'll try to clear up the confusion around Ariel in the near future. Meanwhile, review. Review or I'll send a very angry badass season-4 edition Castiel after you.