Chapter 7
Then:
"I'm okay," I lie and he helps me to my feet, scanning me for any other injuries. When his examination's complete, he yanks me into the tightest hug I've ever received, pressing his face into my hair. It would be comical that he has to bend slightly to reach the top of my head, but I'm trembling so much that I don't care as I squeeze him back until my arms go numb from the pressure.
"I'm sorry," he mutters against the top of my head.
"Shut up," I retort tiredly; it's not his fault the hunters had turned on us. He strokes my hair gently and I lean into the touch, closing my eyes. "Can we please just go home now?"
He nods, even though I can't see it, and presses a kiss to the top of my head. "Yeah. Yeah, we can go home."
He holds me tightly against his side all the way back to the motel.
Now:
Sam wakes up with a loud gasp in the middle of the night, startling me awake.
"What is it, Sam?" I yawn, rubbing at my eyes, and he scrambles out of his bed, grasping my shoulders tightly.
"I think I just had a dream-visit from Satan."
That wakes me up faster than cold water to the face. "What?!"
"Lucifer. He was in my dream. He-" Sam's voice cracks. "He looked like Jess." I remember the name from the pilot of Supernatural and feel a pang of sympathy for Sam. "Then he changed into some other guy, I think he said his name was Nick, and said it was just a temporary vessel till he could get to his true vessel. Me." Sam speaks so quickly that I barely catch what he's trying to say.
When I do, my eyes widen. "You're his vessel?" I suppose I shouldn't be surprised; I did see bits and pieces of the fifth season, but not enough to piece together the majority of the plot.
"Yeah." Sam's breathing hard, still shocked by the revelation, and I shift forward to hold his shoulders in return.
"You - you know you can't say 'yes,' right?"
"What?" Sam looks as if he's never even considered it. "Of course not! I would never, it's just..." The adrenaline seems to leave him and he slumps against the headboard beside me. "Holy crap."
"Yeah, tell me about it," I agree, exhausted as I lean against his side. "So what do we do?"
Sam bites his lip, thinking. "Maybe...maybe we should try talking to Dean." I agree; Dean's Michael's vessel, so it seems only logical that he and Sam team up against the archangels (well, one archangel and one former archangel) trying to use them as meatsuits. Sam picks up his cellphone from the nightstand and dials Dean's number. It isn't long before I hear a click on the other end, signalling that Dean had picked up his phone.
The conversation doesn't last long, and I can only hear Sam's responses to whatever Dean's saying, but Sam sounds even more distressed by the time he closes the phone and shoves it away from him.
"Dean doesn't want to talk?" I venture tentatively and Sam shakes his head.
"Says we're better off apart." He swallows audibly, blinking rapidly and looking up at the ceiling, and I recognize them as signs of oncoming tears. I press myself against Sam's side, wrapping my arms around him tightly. He sniffs slightly and looks down at me, smiling a little despite the shining tears in his eyes. "Thanks."
"Yeah, whatever. Go back to sleep. We're leaving town in the morning, anyway, and you're the designated driver." He cracks a grin and wipes at his eyes before getting up to return to his own bed. When he lies down and closes his eyes, I get out of my bed and lean down to kiss his cheek. "'Night, Sam." Sam's lips twitch upwards weakly even though his eyes remain closed.
"'Night, Air." I return to my own bed, worried about what the future would bring now as I reluctantly drift back to sleep.
I dream about the man with the golden eyes again, this time in a field at the base of a mountain. In the face of Sam's current situation, though, instead of our usual staring competition, I lose my temper.
"Help us!" I yell at the man and he remains where he is, his hands in his pockets as his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "I know you've got enough power to! It's the Apocalypse, and you won't do a damn thing!" Tears sting my eyes and stream down my cheeks. I'm frustrated, both at the stranger's lack of communication and at my own inability to do anything to help Sam or Dean or even Castiel. "What's the point of being brought here if I can't do anything?" I demand to no one in particular.
Suddenly, the man moves forward and his arms wrap around me tightly. I bury my face into his shoulder, unable to do anything else, and cry helplessly.
"I'm sorry, kiddo," he says softly at last, and I'm stunned because it's the first time I've heard him speak. "You'll understand soon."
"Understand what?" I pull out of the embrace to frown at him, confused, and he merely gives me the same sad smile he's given me in every dream I've had about him before snapping his fingers.
I jolt awake and see Sam talking on the phone quietly as he sits on the edge of his bed. I sit up, yawning, and he smiles widely, mouthing "Dean" at me. Dean's calling? Why?
"Hang on, Ariel's awake. Here." He hands me the phone and I take it, putting it to my ear.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Air," Dean's voice greets me. He sounds much more subdued than the last time I had heard his voice. "You doin' okay?"
"I guess so. Just woke up." I stifle another yawn.
"Yeah, I can hear that," Dean chuckles before sobering. "Did, uh...did Sam tell you what I said last night?"
"Yeah."
Dean swears under his breath, but I still hear it. "Look, I...I was wrong, okay? I want Sam back in, I want both of you back in. We're better together, I get that now. Sam's willing to meet up, but what about you?"
"Me?" I ask stupidly. Once the words register, I'm about to tear Dean a new one and deny him outright after what he'd said last night, but seeing Sam's hopeful expression, I change my mind and answer, "Yeah, okay."
"Good." Dean sounds relieved. "And another thing."
"Yeah?"
"Just, uh...don't ever change." With that strange last piece of advice, Dean ends the call. I hand the phone back to Sam, bewildered.
"The hell was that?"
"Does it matter?" Sam begins packing his duffel bag, looking less haggard than I had seen him in days. "Dean wants us back." He's positively beaming, so I don't argue. Sam deserves a little happiness after the mess of yesterday.
It doesn't take more than an hour to find Dean beneath a bridge at the edge of the state line of Oklahoma, and we approach him warily. Dean smiles tiredly and some tension leaves Sam's shoulders.
"Heya, Sammy." Dean pulls out Ruby's knife and holds it out handle-first. "If you're serious and you want back in...you should hang onto this. I'm sure you're rusty." Recalling the fight from last night, I highly doubt that. Sam takes the knife, not meeting Dean's eyes as he nods. "Look, man, I'm sorry. I don't know. I'm...whatever I need to be. But I was, uh...wrong."
"What made you change your mind?" Sam asks at last.
"Long story. The point is...maybe we are each other's Achilles Heel. Maybe they'll find a way to use us against each other, I don't know. I just know we're all we've got. More than that. We keep each other human."
"You totally rehearsed that, didn't you?" I tease and Dean takes a swing at me. I duck behind Sam, laughing.
"Thank you. Really. Thank you. I won't let you down," Sam says fervently even as he smiles at our bickering.
"Oh, I know it." Dean grins. "I mean, you are the second-best hunter on the planet."
"Modest, much?" Dean waves his fist at me again and I shut up, grinning from ear to ear.
"So, what do we do now?" Sam prompts.
"We make our own future." Dean's smile fades slightly as he claps Sam on the shoulder.
"Guess we have no other choice," Sam agrees quietly.
The levity of our situation is gone, but somehow, everything seems much less hopeless than it had before. It's a good feeling, and I hope it lasts.
We join Dean in the Impala once more and hole up in Concordia, Kansas, on the way back to Bobby's place for the night. While I'm in the motel room, Sam and Dean sit outside for a long time, quietly talking.
Dean's treated me strangely since he took me and Sam back. He looks at me as if he's genuinely happy that I'm there, which is weird, since Dean's wanted nothing more than to be rid of me since I got thrown into this mess. I know what's happened: Dean had been shoved into the future by Zachariah, and he had seen the post-Apocalyptic world of 2014. I know what had been in that future, but how would things have changed now that I've entered the picture?
I wait for the Winchesters to return while absently doodling on a piece of motel stationary paper. When Sam and Dean return to the motel room, Sam's eyes are slightly red and puffy, but he's smiling, and so is Dean. Sam heads for the bathroom to take a shower and Dean exhales wearily as he sinks onto the other bed. I watch him, my arms crossed.
"So, the future, huh?" Dean starts before looking at me.
"You saw the episode?" I nod. "Then I guess you know what I saw."
"I know what happened to everyone except me." I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to answer my implied question.
"You-" His voice breaks suddenly and my other eyebrow goes up. What could have possibly happened to me? "When Sam said 'yes,' you were one of the first to die." Well, I certainly hadn't expected that.
"Oh," I say dumbly.
"Damn it, you're a kid," Dean says miserably, "You shouldn't have to be stuck in this."
"Well, I am now." I lift my hands slightly and drop them again helplessly. "And I don't seem to be doing much by way of helping."
Dean shakes his head. "You've been taking care of Sam while I was being a jerk." He reaches over to grasp my shoulder and squeeze it gratefully. "That's more than helpful."
I manage a tentative smile back. "Yeah, well. Someone ought to keep an eye on that pile of angst you call a brother."
Dean snorts and nods in agreement as Sam steps out of the bathroom, towelling his hair dry. "What'd I miss?" the younger Winchester asks when we both start laughing at him.
"Nothing," I dismiss, but Dean catches sight of the doodles I'd left on the table.
"Hey, what're these?" He picks up the paper, squinting, before his eyes widen suddenly. "Sam, he look familiar to you?" He turns the paper to Sam, who takes it and frowns at it.
"Yeah." He looks up at me sharply. "Ariel, have you met this guy before?" I struggle to remember what I'd been absently doodling and then it hits me: the mystery guy.
"I've kind of been dreaming about him," I admit at last. "He doesn't say anything, usually, just lets me talk at him and answers 'yes or no' questions." When the Winchesters look concerned, I ask, "Why? Who is he?"
"The Trickster," Sam says quietly at last, handing the paper back to me, and as I stare at my own drawings of the mystery man's face, it finally clicks where I'd seen him before: I had seen him in Mystery Spot and Tall Tales, previous episodes of Supernatural. I feel like an idiot for not seeing it before.
"But why would he be dream-visiting me?" I demand, bewildered.
"Hell if I know." Dean shrugs, looking at Sam, who looks just as lost as I probably do. "I still want that dick's head on a stake for Mystery Spot."
"But you don't even remember most of your deaths," I point out.
"I do," Sam reminds me with a grimace, "And trust me, I'm not too fond of the guy, either." His face lights up suddenly. "What if we ask him to help us?"
"What?" Dean says sharply, his eyebrows shooting up.
"No, no, hear me out. He's the most powerful creature we've met. What if we can get him on our side?" Sam's excited now as his idea comes together, and he looks at me for support.
I shrug. "Wouldn't hurt to ask. Unless he gets offended and tries to kill us, I guess."
Dean huffs. "Well, how are we supposed to find him, anyway? We haven't seen or heard any sign from him since Mystery Spot, anyway."
"Ariel's dreams. She could talk to him there, ask him for help," Sam suggests and I nod.
"It's worth a try." Still unconvinced, Dean glances between us before sighing.
"It's worth a try," he echoes and Sam smiles. I just feel relieved that we have a plan.
Chapter titles are a pain. Is it too much trouble to stay underlined once I click "save?" Bloody hell.
That aside, this chapter is shorter than the others because quite frankly, there isn't much Sam and Ariel do in The End and I wanted this episode done in one chapter before moving on to the next one. I feel like each chapter's sort of winding down in quality at the moment. Derp.
Review before a grumpy Bobby calls you an "idjit."