It has been too long, people! To my dear readers, I want to thank you so much for the patience you've been showing regarding this work. As much as I try, sometimes life just gets away from me, and it's been happening a lot this last year and a half. I've been working a lot more lately, and I don't want to sound like I'm complaining, but it been adding a lot of stress.
I don't want to admit how long it took to be able to work this chapter out. Suffice to say it fought me every step of the way, which sucks because usually when I sit down to write I can get it to flow almost immediately. Still, it's written now and while it's not exactly how I envisioned, it is still pretty serviceable for it's purposes. It also came out way longer than I intended, so enjoy that bonus as you like. When I got everything important down I thought about trimming out the fat, but aside from a small detail here or there it was all pretty much important, so why not just have an extra-long chapter here or there? Anyway, as always, hope that you enjoy it.
Chapter 39: Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch
The foliage was thick as Dean tromped through it. He could have taken the beaten path that he'd rushed down while running from the Leviathans but he had no real desire to get found by the other things that were foaming at the mouth to snap his neck and munch down on his corpse by going back the way he'd previously come from. The thing about being in a hurry to flee for your life? It didn't leave a whole lot of time to cover his tracks.
Even if he had been in possession of that precious recourse, Dean had never been an outdoorsman bushwacker. He was the type to work in cities and suburbs, only occasionally allowing himself to go into the woods when it was really needed for the job. He didn't go out and look for hunts in the wilderness all that often, too much the type to almost step on bear traps and nearly get bitten by rattlesnakes. Following Benny had been easier so far.
Frankly, he knew it wasn't the most sound decision to head back for a necklace. It was a couple coins and a nylon thread. Five minutes in a craft store and he'd be able to replace it, but it was the meaning behind that gift that was important. He'd go back for it the same way he'd go back for Sam or Emma, or Baby, or how he would have gone back for his amulet if he'd had his head on straight when he'd thrown it away. By the time he'd realized how stupidly impulsive that had been, the trashcan's contents would have been long gone, laying out in a landfill somewhere and impossible to find. Tossing that Christmas gift in front of Sam had cut him down to the bone, and no way was Dean fighting tooth and nail to be with his daughter again only to inflict that kind of pain on her.
Currently at the moment, Dean was by himself. Castiel and Benny had been willing to come along even if they hadn't been eager for the backtracking, but after a bit of a discussion it was decided it would be safer to split up. With having just escaped the Leviathans, there was likely to be more around or Eve and her little cronies swarming the area. So the plan of action was to allow the angel to go off a fair distance in order to attract attention. It would keep anything that might be sniffing around for the human to get distracted and head for the shinier of the two options.
The hill he'd fallen down had been pretty steep, hence the pain of going over the rocks and bushes so roughly, but his angel had insisted on patching him up before Dean headed back. Stubborn as he was about Cas limiting the use of his powers to try to keep the angel safe in Purgatory, a tall order as it was, heading back alone still aching and finding it hard to stand would have been bullheadedness of epic proportions. Dean had cared about others more than he'd cared about himself for most of his life, but he'd been raised to be smart in dangerous situations just as long. There was concern for others and then just being an idiotic jackass, and while the hunter knew he crossed that line every once and a while he did his best not to do it too often or make it too obvious when he felt he had to make that call.
When he finally reached the large mound in question, Dean scooted back to the spot he'd stopped rolling and allowed his eyes to start scanning about. The coins were metal and on a bright day would have sparkled a bit under the sun, but Purgatory was never anything but overcast and dreary. Under a blanket of fog that only seemed to clear at night and even then only by a little, visibility was never what the hunter would call optimal. So he was stuck doing this the hard way, looking manually and having to take his time to make sure every possible inch of the place was covered.
His movement up the hill was slow and methodical, his feet careful in their placement. It took a lot of concentration not to step on any of the branches he'd broken off the trees under his previous tumble, but luckily he was going so slow it wasn't too hard to keep conscious of where he was putting his feet. Every time leaves crumpled under him, he stopped and stood still for a several moments to just wait for something to leap out and try to attack him but nothing ever came. He'd allow himself to breath again and move on.
He was getting farther up now and no sign of the coins were coming along. Feeling himself starting to get agitated, he racked his brain to try to remember for sure the last time he'd felt the necklace against his skin. He was often so distracted by the combat that he couldn't pinpoint a moment recently, and the idea of having to go back further to search blindly was like an itch at the back of his mind.
It was getting harder and harder to keep track of how long he'd been here. Between the lack of sleep, not needing to eat and having no calendar in front of him, it had been easy to lose time. Not like in Hell, but definitely similar. He knew it had been months for sure, but how many had eluded him. He supposed he'd have to ask Cas. The angel seemed mostly together, and he seemed anal retentive enough to be able to keep track of every second that passed him by. Remembering exactly when he'd last had something on him was furiously eluding him at the moment.
It would be utterly stupid to even suggest heading out further for this, much less do it, and he firmly told himself that in his mind. A necklace was not as important as actually getting back to his family, but going back without it seemed so…
No, it was around here. It had to be. He wasn't going to accept anything less. Fate had taken his mom and dad, had stolen his apple pie life, had chewed up his literal soul and spat it back out. He was allowed to keep a god damn necklace!
His steadily increasingly angry thoughts were interrupted by him reaching the clearing up at the top of the hill, the break of the trees just in sight. More than the landscape though, it was who he saw in the clearing that made him stop dead in his tracks.
"Now, now. We don't have to fight about this," Eve said in a tone he was sure she thought was soothing. Honestly, the whole caring mother bit she pulled kind of crept him out.
She was stooped over a bit to trail a hand over the chin of a Leviathan, held down on its knees by two larger men. Alphas, no doubt, but Dean couldn't tell what kind at just a glance. Not that the details mattered. Large picture? They were dangerous, and that was all that was really important.
"You're not our mother, whore," the Leviathan hissed at her. He was shoved forward harshly before she waved her hand.
"Stop it," she said to the alpha who seemed to be trying to bend the creature over enough to snap it in half. "There's no need to hurt your sibling."
She looked to the Leviathan, a soft smile tracing over her features.
"And they are your siblings. I know you don't see that now, but you will," she assured him. "My children are not just the ones I've birthed. I've adopted over the years, so many children, so many who need a mother. Your leader is dead now. You have me and I owe you no ill will. You'll see that in time."
His mouth grew large in response and tried to snap at her hand, and this time she didn't object when the alpha slammed him down into the ground.
"It's okay. This is a work in progress. We knew it would be going into it. Take him away, but be careful," Eve instructed.
Dean watched as the Leviathan was drug away, the alphas obediently keeping the monster from being able to yank free but not acting cruel or too violent about it either. A sense of dread washed over the hunter at just how much control this bitch had over such powerful things, how dangerous she was through her sense of command alone. The idea of her taking over Earth and treating literally every person on the planet like they were her own personal Cabbage Patch doll made his skin crawl. God, he was glad he'd forced her to puke herself to death.
Thoughts of sneaking away formed in his mind, to maybe hit the other side of the hill that he'd climbed up with Benny and Castiel on the off chance he had somehow lost his necklace just by walking despite knowing how remote of a chance that was. Better than sticking around here though.
"Are you going to hide out the entire time?" Eve asked out loud just as he was moving to leave. "Dean, it's not polite to spy on ladies."
"You're not a lady," he said as he allowed himself to step out from the plantlife. Why even try to pretend he wasn't there and hide? Wouldn't do him any good anyway.
"I am in the way that counts," she replied easily as he approached her.
"What, that you're full of emotions and get bitchy when you don't get your way?" he snarked.
"I was going to say I have manners but with the way you're acting you're only proving my point," she tutted. "Dean, this is really a very unbecoming way for you to act, you know that, right?"
"Oh save the mommy dearest bullshit, lady. I ain't gonna bite and I certainly ain't gonna go, 'Oh wow, maybe she was right all along and all I need is a pair of breasts to cry on,' so just save it," he said. "The bit got old back when you were on Earth."
Actually, the bit had royally pissed him off and squicked him out, but there was no reason to lay his hand out on that little fact. She seemed to get off on playing with people's emotions. He wasn't about to spell out how she could mess with him.
"I'm surprised you're here and not with your angel," she stated instead, changing the subject as her eyes scanned the trees as if expecting Castiel to be hiding out among the leaves. "I can feel him not far off. I thought the plan was for the three of you to try to escape? While I do appreciate the assistance on my new children's capture, I wouldn't have thought you'd want to dawdle."
"Well, you know me. Love that scenery. Thought I'd take a scenic stroll," he lied.
The fabrication, such as it was, lasted for all of a couple seconds before she dug a hand into the pocket of her white dress and pulled out his necklace.
"Here I thought you might have come back for this."
Dean didn't even think to school his features, shock and anger coloring his face before he made to grab at it, only for her to pull her hand back. Fury burned inside of him, the urge to chop her head off with his weapon filling him to the point of near bursting.
"So this is yours," she mused. "I'd wondered if it was when I found it but I wasn't quite sure."
"Hand it over, bitch," he demanded. "Now."
Dean was actually a little surprised when she shrugged and held it out for him to snatch back. He'd been expecting more of a fight about it.
"You know, I'm not as unreasonable as you seem to think I am," she pointed out to which he scoffed. Narrowing her eyes at him, she frowned a bit. "Besides, you're wasting time. I want you both out of Purgatory and you know it."
"Ah, now that one I believe," he said flippantly. "Much more than the caring mommy routine."
"You find it so hard to think I am capable of caring about my children?" she asked "Or is it my potential children that you struggle with? You know, I didn't lie back in that diner. I could have been a good mother to you."
She reached out for him before she found Dean's handmade hatched pointing at her throat. Dean knew it wouldn't do anything to harm her, but he had a point to make.
"You need to back off," he hissed.
She looked thoroughly unimpressed, and as much as he hated it, he couldn't really blame her. It's not like it could hurt her. Still, she held her hands up and took a step back.
"Dean, I can see why we have some trust issues between us but I have never, ever set out to harm you in any way. I'm not interested in harming any of you young, little things," she said. "The monster you see when you look at me? It's not real. Motherhood is all I'm interested in. All I've ever done is care about the ones that need me. Maybe if you were a parent, you'd understand."
"What?" he breathed out, shock hitting him as he found himself lowering his weapon. The smile on her lips threw him off and sent a panicked sort of terror shooting through him. "What did you just say?"
She looked ready to reply before the sound of a snapping branch alerted him. Spinning around, he saw Castiel with his angel blade in hand.
"You were taking a while. I got worried," he informed Dean, glaring at Eve as he approached.
It probably wasn't the toughest looking move, but the hunter allowed himself to get to Castiel's side, not wanting to be anywhere near the girl. Her calm and amused look was gone now, giving the angel a cold look that would crumble weaker men and Cas met it with a similar expression of steely determination.
"I think it's time to leave," the angel said, taking Dean's arm in his hand. "Are you alright?"
"Are you alright, Dean?"
"Brother, you listening?"
"DEAN!"
The hunter snapped out of it, looking up from the campfire he was staring at, his thumb slowly stroking over the coins hanging around his neck. It had been a couple months since the run in with Eve and he still couldn't get it out of his head what she'd said to him. The comment about him being a parent… It could have been totally innocent, should have been, but he knew for a fact she could see and hear things from her kids and he had just spilled the beans to Benny a good thirty minutes beforehand just why the necklace had been so important to him.
She could have heard it, could have been making some kind of veiled threat against him, or it had just been a coincidence. He wished he could think it had been, but ever since Emma had come into his life he'd been so careful with her mere existence and to try to limit how many of his enemies knew about her. Now he felt like he'd blown everything. He wished he could know for sure, could know if Eve had any idea, but surely she couldn't connect just a necklace to his daughter.
He'd been telling himself that over and over again and it still didn't make him feel any better. Maybe if he actually believed it, it could.
"Sorry," he said as he looked up from the fire. "Just trying to rest some."
"You've been checking that necklace pretty often," Benny noted as Dean kept running his thumb over the metal. "You alright there, brother?"
He quickly tucked it back into his shirt and shook his head.
"I'm fine," he muttered. It probably was paranoia on his part to act kind of closed off from Benny, but he couldn't really help it. The sharp reminder that Eve could look in on and see anything the vampire saw gave Dean pause. He'd be stupid to ignore that fact and felt stupid for not keeping his defenses around him tighter. Thing was, he knew the vampire couldn't even help it.
The hunter tried to keep himself as normal as possible, thankful that Purgatory was such a violent and draining place for him anyway. It made his nerves about the vampire much less obvious and it's not like it had been sunshine and rainbows before. While things had been improving it hadn't been to such an extreme that Dean acting less than forthcoming about every thought that passed through his head was all that odd.
"We aren't setting off again until morning," Castiel mentioned. "If you want, you can try to get some sleep and we can keep an eye out."
"Actually, I'm thinking we should get moving again soon," Dean admitted. He'd wanted to get out of this pit since he'd ended up trapped in it, but he was getting desperate to escape now. He needed to see Sam again, needed to know he was okay, and he needed to collect Emma and make sure she was safe too. Every day here clawed at him since talking to Eve and something inside of him screamed that he had to get to his kid sooner rather than later.
It was surprising how little blood there was, all things considered. In the time Meg had been down here in Hell, brutally aware of every day that passed, she'd experienced a lot of torture. A lot, like so much it should have been cliché by now but her bitter little sarcastic quips had been failing her lately. As much as she'd love to rely on her dry wit, it wasn't easy in this place. Time in Hell was chaotic and horrible, painful in the most intimate ways, even for a powerful demon like her. It had little pity when you were the bottom bitch, and as much as Meg hated to admit it, life had made her the bottom bitch for a long while.
The other demons who had lined up to torture her were nothing if not enthusiastic. Beating her black and blue, cutting her open, trying to make her beg for mercy, pulling her organs out chunk by bloody chunk. Belphegor on the other hand was methodical, little movements that caused as much agony as possible but not much of a mess. It was a pain that could be endured though, much less extreme than the others. It could almost be considered a break, almost.
If only he would shut up. Because he never stopped fucking talking. Every time he walked through the door, she couldn't count to ten before he opened his mouth to start babbling at her and it was driving her up the wall. She almost wished he'd shut up and get on with it a bit more, but if she was forced to be honest with herself it was a rest on her body even if her mind was screaming at her to find a way to rip his tongue out.
"Good morning," he said as he inspected the knives, picking out a favorite before heading over to her. He always greeted her that way, always took his time to choose which one he wanted before getting to work. It was all so routine and loathsome, as if she was just some errand with a checklist, a nice little pattern he could complete like a day at the office.
Just when had her life taken such a huge downturn anyway that such a pathetic little peon could do whatever he wanted to her?
"I'm going to kill you," she hissed out to him. "You're going to die bloody and begging me to end it."
"You say that, but you don't mean it," he laughed. "I mean, really? Who could take you seriously, princess? You're not a threat, never have been."
"Unlock my cuffs and I'll show you I am," she promised him with a snarl. "Who the hell do you think you are? I'm more powerful than you could ever hope to be."
"Now, now," he replied calmly before picking up a long piece of metal, practically a needle from how thin it was. "Lies get you punished, princess. You know that."
For the love of crap, she hated this kind of talk. Gritting her teeth, she tried her best not to react as she felt the metal pushed into her ear, piercing in and going in even further until she cried out.
"S-stop!" she screamed out. "FUCKING STOP IT!"
He gave in to her demand and slowly withdrew the instrument, making it hurt almost as much as when he'd pushed it in and causing her to shudder at the phantom pain still there. Panting hard, she glared up at him as the warm blood seeped out of her and trickled down her face before dripping from her chin. The whole time he just met her fiery expression with a calm decorum that made her want to break both him and Crowley in a million different ways.
"See?" he asked with a smile on his leathery face. "Not dangerous at all. Just the harmless little princess that does what she's told, when she's told to do it. Wasn't that your life beforehand? The big bad prince of this place telling you what little chores to do and like sweet widdle Snow White you did them without question?"
Meg had largely taken what was given to her, knowing the chains were too strong for her to hope to break. She'd dealt with torture before and could deal with it again. It was agonizing, painful and she hated every moment of it with her entire damn being but waiting shit out to find a chance to get away was smarter than wasting energy.
All that reasoning left her when she yanked forward, the chains rattling as she tried to get to Belphegor. She barely even made it an inch, trying to claw at him, but he actually smiled at her when she did so.
"Color me surprised," he breathed. "You actually can fight back. I'll be honest, I was starting to worry I was wasting my time here."
"Oh, come on," she hissed at him. "I hate the mind games cocky guys like you pull. Either nut up or not, I can't stand being serenaded."
Something twitched in the back of her mind but she ruthlessly stomped it down, not about to expose that little weakness. Maybe once when she'd been confused enough to flirt with the possibility of something more, when a damaged angel had looked at her and actually felt pity and mistaken it for affection, she had thought it might have been fun to play with but there was nothing like loyalty to grasps onto there. Castiel could have come and got her at his most powerful but he was far from that these days, and his rescue of Dean had been with a whole garrison attacking Hell alongside him. Cracked as he was now, he would have just died in the attempt if he had even thought to do it. Maybe he had and had perished in some flight of fancy but it was more likely he was chasing bees again so what was the point of her even getting her hopes up? Even exploring those stupid feelings of confusion would be idiotic.
"What you're calling mind games, I was just hoping could be a conversation," the demon said with a little shrug of his shoulders. "This could have been a lot more civil a lot earlier if you'd just given me something to work with."
"What's that? Begging, screaming, hoping you'd stop?" she sneered out.
"Actually, quite the opposite. I'm kind of hoping there's still some life in there," he said as he nudged her with his foot. Compared to what he'd been doing before, it was practically affectionate but it still pissed her off that he felt he had the right to smear his dirty foot all over her. "Azazel? That was a guy you don't mess with under any circumstances. I was really hoping his kids would fit the same bill. His son was a total write off, but you're still around. I really was starting to think you actually were the hopeless little princess, given inane chores and waiting around ineffectively to be rescued."
He grinned down at her and she fought hard to keep his gaze, wondering to herself if he'd somehow known about Castiel. Eh, probably. Everyone down here loved gossip and she was sure somewhere down the line it had gotten out about the angel's insane liking of her. She'd trust Crowley to make mention of it everywhere, considering he'd seen it firsthand.
"So if you're not the helpless princess then are you the cunning witch?" he asked as he tapped a finger to his chin. "The wild and mysterious temptress out on the edge of civilization, out to hurt or help the heroes based on her whim alone? Or… or is it both?"
"I'm really not into this," she muttered. "Is it too late to go back to the pick in the brain?"
"You know, I think it is both," he mused as if she hadn't even spoken. She gnashed her teeth together, never having liked to be ignored. "Tell me, Meg. You know much about Arthurian legend?"
"Yeah, used to strangle kids while Sword in the Stone played in the background," she bit out.
"Sounds amusing," he chuckled. "But I mean the real stories, the old ones, that stretch back centuries. Time when conquest was bloody and viscous and no one tried to sanitize it. When peasants looked at kings like Pendragon stealing another man's wife and saw a hero. You think you'd be able to relate."
"The hell are you talking about?" she asked, annoyed but still wondering where he was going with this.
"Story goes Uther was a king lusting after another man's wife, dear sweet Igraine. Of course this man was a duke, not as powerful as a king but still with an army of his own. So Uther was got good old Merlin to change his shape and went right to her. A night of taking her and then later killing off her husband, little Arthur was born. Hardly the sweet little story of Disney, huh? Guess people didn't see how messed up that kind of thing was back then, which is a shame things have changed because I couldn't help but enjoy carving up self-righteous souls that kept insisting they had done nothing wrong. I get less and those every year as morality evolves."
He stopped his musing before smiling sweetly at her.
"Of course, I have you now, so I'm more than satisfied," he breathed. "And such a good listener. Of course, the story isn't so tightly woven up. Igraine already had a child, a powerful and cunning daughter, Morgan le Fey. Imagine that, to be the first in line, to have land and power and subjects that would have been all hers by the right of being the first born heir… only to lose to some brat who came along."
She hissed a bit and shut her eyes tightly, wishing she could block her ears somehow.
"Shut up."
"I see you get my point. Isn't it sad? Morgan was powerful, smart, strong but Arthur took everything from her. Nothing belonged to her anymore, and all because of some younger usurper," he said as he twirled the spike around. "Oh to have lost that, for you to have lost that. Azazel ruled this place, your brother was gone and you had the power. You should have had Hell, only for Lilith to take it and then it to pass off to a demon like Crowley. He has power of the King of Hell, but you… you were born to it. Too bad though, that you never thought to seize it."
He tilted his head to the side.
"I guess you're the helpless princess after all," he sighed out.
"I will fucking kill you!" she threatened him in a scream as she tried to lunge at him, not caring the chains were holding her in place, too furious. "I will get out of this and gut you and that bastard! I'll rip him to pieces! I'll take his head and put it on a pike!"
"We'll see," Belphegor said before walking back to the cart to grab a hatchet. "Time to start on the joints, princess. Shall I tell you about Joyous Guard while I do? Or maybe you'd like to hear about Morgan's sister Morgause?"
She only screamed at him again when he got to work, starting at the elbow first. The noise wasn't just in pain, but as a desperate way to block out the words. She hated it, hated to think this is how it was going to be from now on, that she would be eternally remembered as the stupid and pathetic little demon who could not longer inspire fear in anyone anymore.
"Christ, that's loud," Bobby muttered as he rubbed at his ear. There was a loud pitched screaming that would not stop for anything, even when it paused for a second or two it would only start up again. Sounded like a woman, maybe even a voice he'd heard before but he couldn't be sure. Sadly, the voices had started to run together after being down here for so long.
"Mmmm, it is, isn't it?" Crowley purred out happily, rubbing his nose against Bobby's back. They were currently sitting on the couch, the hunter hunched over his coffee table looking over some books while the demon lounged over him, cuddling up against him with a glass of sherry in his hand. His free hand kept trying to wander to feel Bobby up and while the man hadn't pushed him away yet, he wasn't encouraging the behavior either by interacting with it.
It vaguely disturbed him that Crowley seemed to be in the mood with such a soundtrack, but it would be idiotic to forget just what the demon was and how sadistic he could be. Oh sure, he could act well behaved when he wanted to, but there was a monster under the skin all the same. Quite literally actually.
Though maybe that said more about Bobby than Crowley. After all, the demon was at least acting in his nature while the hunter was the one allowing it.
It made him wonder if Hell was starting to affect his moral compass or if the saying about no man being an island had some truth to it and he had just been getting lonely. He supposed one way or the other it didn't matter. For some reason, no matter what the reason was, the king had wormed his way into his heart and Bobby wasn't too eager to let go of the one good thing… well, somewhat decent thing he could have down here.
"How are the new books, darling?" Crowley asked the hunter read. He was actually getting physical texts and scrolls again, only able to do so much research with what he could remember. Oh sure, he remembered a lot, but obviously not everything. No one was that good after all.
"Informative," he admitted. Ever since Crowley had told him about the prophecy the king had been given by three goddesses calling themselves the Fates, Bobby had been trying to get some work done deciphering it. Sure, he wasn't really in the mood to try to help the demon get even more power, and was honestly considering the opposite as a possible alternative. Crowley was dangerous, and Bobby didn't know if anyone on the throne would be worse or better. Deep down, no matter what emotions had become involved, this was still a case in its own way.
Bobby had to admit that there were emotions though. When working on cars and salvaging the pieces that were still in working order, you had to know what was broken and not try to hold onto what was just useless garbage. It was the same situation with a hunt, better to acknowledge when there was an issue or complication instead of just ignoring it and hoping that it didn't kill you by causing a distraction. So it stood to reason this would be three for three and he had to admit that despite the situation he'd found himself in of being damned for seemingly the rest of eternity, he had allowed himself to catch feelings for his kidnapper.
And didn't that give him some bad Stockholm syndrome vibes?
Still, Bobby wasn't an indifferent machine. Karen had affected his entire life from first meeting her to her death. She'd been the light in his life and it had gotten much darker for having lost her. Even if she'd died to a mundane way like an accident or sickness, even if there hadn't been the screamer over having children, he still would have been diminished at being without her. There had been other women after her, some long affairs of the heart and some just blowing off steam. Not a lot though. His pessimism had limited the times he was willing to risk his heart again.
He wouldn't be risking it with Crowley if he hadn't been so damn persistent and Bobby had been so lonely. There was no one else here, and certainly no one good. Crowley was not human, but he was there and had long since proven to want and be willing to give affection. It hadn't taken away any of Bobby's desire to find out what was going on and try to stop it if it got dangerous, but it did throw in other considerations he knew he'd have to examine with the understanding in the end he was going to have to do what needed to be done, emotional complications or not.
After all, he'd loved Karen and had been willing to stab her. He wouldn't be a hunter, wouldn't be Bobby Singer, if he wasn't willing to take the same steps with the guy he was currently shaking up with.
Even if he had to look at that metaphorically busted part in his heart and admit he probably had come to love Crowley just like his lost wife.
So no matter what he did with the information, it would be good to have it. He wasn't sure if betraying Crowley would be smart. He didn't even know if he wanted to. It kind of moved him that the demon trusted him enough with the prophecy at all. After the debacle with Castiel, he wouldn't have figured that the demon would be willing to trust anybody.
Of course, he wasn't sure how much he trusted Crowley either.
He looked over his notes on the prophecy the demon had given to him, jotted down on a pad of paper while it had been recited to him. It was a bit flowery, and he didn't get some parts of it, but to be fair that was the point of the research.
His pen tapped over the lines on the paper, reading over the bits concerning the Risen and Fallen getting hassled by two sisters, and the well of poison they were going to make together. He was still piecing that together, along with the whole thing about walls to a frozen death. That he knew couldn't be about Hell, this place certainly not in any way cold, unless that was just a very poetic way to say the place was going to freeze over. Still, something in the back of his mind was telling him that wasn't the answer, but he sure would like to know what the answer to this whole thing was.
Though some pieces of this puzzle had been painfully obvious since the start.
"This whole shield thing," he allowed himself to say. He'd been debating whether he should mention this for a while now, but the screaming was making it hard for him to think straight. He really wished that could be shut off. What he wouldn't give to sometimes forget he was in Hell and just pretend for a bit. Kind of hard to do with the constant wailing of the damned, but it was better and worse at times. "I think we both can agree that's me."
The demon said nothing for a bit, just pushed his face into the man's throat and nibbled a bit at his ear. Bobby figured he didn't care, unlikely, or was trying very hard to distract the hunter from that line of thinking. It wasn't working if that was the case.
"Crowley," he warned before reaching over his shoulder to jab at the demon's nose with the butt of his pen.
The king sighed but straightened up before taking a sip from his glass.
"I had figured that out, yes," he admitted. "I'm obviously the risen one, climbing the ranks and getting this gem of a kingdom. You can't get much higher, and we've clearly established you should be in Heaven as opposed to Hell."
"Uh huh. Thanks for that," he grumbled before rolling his eyes. He couldn't judge much, seeing as how he was sleeping with the demon after all. Kind of hard to protest his conditions with activities like that happening. "It just makes me wonder about certain things."
"Like what, darling?" Crowley asked, looking more curious than anything. "Figure something out?"
"I figured out you're using me," the soul stated as he looked down at the paper, fiddling with it in his hands. "And that this whole thing was a very effective honey trap for you."
The demon gave him an even look before swirling his glass and then downing the rest of it.
"You're mostly right," he admitted. "I knew you were a part of something bigger, that I would need you. I didn't think it would turn into this, though I'll admit I had hopes. I didn't know for sure though. You are terribly stubborn after all. I wasn't sure it would ever be more than just us needling one another, a hunter and monster. I wanted more though, craved it, and I'm very happy I'm allowed to have it."
That was one of the other things making it so hard to decide what would be the right thing to do. Sure, Crowley had an agenda and he'd cozied up to Bobby in an attempt to make it happen but he was unflinchingly honest about it. Already much better than the whole deal concerning his soul. Though maybe the man shouldn't be giving out brownie points for basic decency, even if decency wasn't something demons bothered with often.
"It'd be a lot easier to figure this mess out if I knew who the players were," Bobby said, mostly to keep himself from thinking in circles. What he would do with the information would be a moot issue if he never discovered the answers he was looking for.
"That's exactly what I'm wanting you to do. If I can find these sisters I can just kill them in advance and it won't matter what they want to do," Crowley reasoned.
Bobby would have argued that prophecies didn't seem to work that way and very few stories actually happened with the prophecy being cut short before at least something happened, but this demon had also helped stop the end of the world so many some credit was due.
"The bynames have got to be the clues but they're so vague it doesn't really help much. Sisters of blood and spirit, I'm thinking maybe a couple hunters would want to come after you, perhaps one of them is physic but that feels like such a guess. I'd feel better with something more concrete," Bobby stated. "Unless you plan to fry every set of girl siblings you can get your hands on."
"There's an idea," he mused with a grin, only causing the hunter to groan.
"That wasn't a suggestion," he muttered.
"Maybe if the Fates didn't decide to be cute by using obscure code words and meaningless epithets I wouldn't have to go to such extreme measures to cover all my bases," the king snorted.
"What?" Bobby asked.
"Oh come on, I think we both know I'm more than willing to-"
"No, not that," the hunter said as got up from the couch and went to his bookshelves to start riffling through some papers and worn books. He hadn't had a chance to really organize yet, even by his own unorthodox means, not since a handful of demons had come in carrying boxes and boxes of lore. It had been one of the very rare times he'd seen any other being besides the king and they'd been dismissed just as quickly as they'd come in. Bobby would have put them to work to get it all sorted by category or at least in alphabetically order but apparently that hadn't been an option.
Still, he was able to find what he was looking for after some searching. He tipped a large, leather-bound book open and flipped through the pages quickly. The hunter was fairly sure he was right about his postulation but he wanted to see it to be sure.
"And what has you all in a tizzy?" the demon asked, eyeing him closely. "Did a stroke of genius hit you in a flash?"
"I'm hoping so."
"Fairly positive that you're required by the law of drama to exclaim eureka," he stated, a proud little smirk on his face. Bobby wasn't sure if it was his own wit he was enjoying or some sort of twisted pride concerning the smarts of his 'little pet human', and he definitely wasn't sure which he'd prefer it to be.
"Don't see the need to celebrate until I know for sure," Bobby replied before he stopped on a page and ran the finger along it, muttering the words under his breath. "I got it, it is an epithet. The others just seem like nicknames so I didn't make the connection before now but it seems to fit."
"What does?" Crowley asked before getting up. "What did you find?"
"The Hidden One," Bobby explained. "It's a title used for Hel, one L, not two. She's a goddess of the death for the Norse pagans, ruler in a place called Niflheim, which some accounts claim is cold and desolate."
"Frozen death," Crowley mused. "How does she figure in?"
"Sounds like she's going to get into some trouble and you got to help her out, this whole bit about offering up her power to strengthen the realms of the dead. Maybe a favor for a favor situation, though it's realms, not realm so there's clearly more than one at play here. How many even are there anyway?" Bobby asked.
"I've never counted. It's enough to keep track of my own kingdom that just dipping my toes into Purgatory was more effort than it was worth," the crossroads demon explained. "Still, that does sound promising. I've worked with angels, demons, hunters… What's a pagan or two on the list of my references?"
Bobby felt hesitant at that, recalling exactly what mess the demon's last scheme had caused. It was hard not to be pissed about it all. If the man he was currently involved with hadn't gotten tangled up in Purgatory then Dick Roman wouldn't have been around to shoot him right in the head. He still felt angry at Castiel for the role he'd played, helping Crowley get so far, torturing poor Eleanor to the point where it had killed her, and nearly dooming the whole human race. Tender times in bed or not, he wasn't sure he should really be doing the same as the angel had done.
It seemed they might be getting closer to a time when Bobby was going to have to decide if he was going to ally with the king or not. One way or the other, he needed to find just which part was broken and get rid of it, no matter what that meant.
It could never be said that change was good for Heaven. To date, every single change that had happened within the pearly gates had effectively made things much worse. There had been a time, a blissful time when everyone and everything had been perfect, celestial harmonies sung, love for their Father the true meaning and purpose of every angel there, and the parts they were all supposed to be play secure. It was like a well-balanced machine.
Then Lucifer had decided he wanted to challenge God and it had all snowballed from there. Heaven had begun to leak angels after that, slowly at first though. A single one there, a couple here, every few centuries or so. The losses were far from pleasant but it had seemed to be the new normal. The whole was still loyal though, still did as they were told when they were told to do it, but over the years it got worse. Free will had started to affect Heaven, the sour infection had been Lucifer himself and it had spread out from the middle to the others.
He had been the most beloved, the center of attention at all times. The only one more loved was God Himself, but it had the unforeseen consequences that a few bad apples might have looked to him as an example. He hadn't taken a third of the angels with him to Hell to become demons, a little fabrication that had been fed to the humans with a divine message here and a holy word there. After all, couldn't allow the human population to learn they could become demons themselves, some powerful enough to rival even angels.
Naomi wasn't the one in charge of PR, but she could definitely applaud good ideas when she saw it. Ironically, lies in the Bible served just as well as the truth when used correctly.
Of course, Naomi wasn't really in charge of anything, not when you really looked at it.
No, the angel liked to believe herself more as a head of intelligence in Heaven than anything else. Being in charge meant she was the one who made the decisions and was responsible for the fallout that happened. No, she was more a mediator, a first mate to the captain. She received orders just the same as anyone else. The only difference were the orders a lot bigger. While angels below her received specific instructions without knowing the why, only told to play their part and be a good cog in the machine, she'd been given the overall the result that was needed and given the leeway on how to do it.
It was just the other side of the coin concerning obedience, but it was obedience nonetheless.
Then Michael was lost to them, and to turn a phrase, it had all gone to Hell.
It had been split two ways, Raphael leading the idea of restarting the divine plane of the apocalypse and the little upstart Castiel refusing to allow that to happen. It should have been an idea that was squashed like a bug, the idea of allowing free will to be allowed to every angel left in Heaven, but he had a charisma in his earnestness and those looking for meaning wondered if his resurrection showed this was actually what God wanted after all.
Naomi had suggested to Raphael that she fix Castiel and just put the whole issue to bed, but the archangel had wanted to brute force the issue. Probably some desire to show off his strength, to break Castiel and prove himself the superior that Heaven should follow at least until Michael was pulled from the cage. An archangel shouldn't have to rely on a sibling of a lower rank to get the Heavenly Host to fall in line, so she'd largely stayed out of the war.
Now Raphael was lost to them too, and things had gone from horrible to panic inducing. For a brief moment Castiel had declared himself in charge, heard by every angel, drilled into their minds like the very word of their own Father. It had been terrifying and Naomi had immediately decided to follow this new order if it was needed out of fear alone.
Naomi wasn't an angel that experienced fear often. She could count the every occasion it had happened over all her years on one hand, but when it did seep into her she paid attention to it. If this was the way Heaven would be ruled from now on, she was going to submit to it.
Only then Castiel had disappeared, and many had wondered if he was going to be an absent ruler too. It took months for any angel to even be willing to stick a nose out and check to see what was going on, and when word came back on his reappearance it seemed the Leviathan mess was purely his fault and something had driven him quite insane, probably all the power he'd wielded. The ending to the twisted little tale had finished with him once again off to who knew where, word this time being that he was finally, truly dead and had left Heaven in worse shape than ever before.
Naomi didn't think she believed that, but right now that wasn't the pressing issue. The matter that really needed attention was how to deal with what was going on now.
During Castiel's disastrous rebellion, the majority of Heaven had taken Raphael's side. There was enough opposition that it wasn't a sure victory no matter what the archangel had said but Castiel had still been the underdog in the fight. It had been much simpler though, two sides to pick from and neutrality not tolerated by the archangel on the warpath. There had been ones that didn't want to fight and risk killing their siblings for any cause but fear of their older brother had caused them to either fall in line and just remain unseen as much as possible or to run to the alternative choice with the idea that at least when it was all over Castiel wouldn't boss them around.
Making the ending of the whole affair rather ironic.
Naomi had hated that the war had occurred at all, but she'd take the two-sided conflict over what was happening now.
Probably the result of so many on Raphael's side killed while the free-thinkers were spared, but it was quickly dissolving into chaos. There was no clear direction of what to do now. Plenty ideas where being thrown around, but nothing of substance. No clear line of succession meant any idiot with a shred of authority was trying to to get followers to lead in a new direction. Dozens of angels were now bickering and fighting over what the new plan was or if there should even be a plan at all.
If Heaven had been a sinking ship before, it was a now a house without a foundation that was crumbling down around their heads. Something had to be done about it and it had to be done soon. Naomi didn't see herself as a leader but she did have skills she could employ, could make nudges where it was needed and get things back on track.
"So, Inias," she said gently as she spoke to the angel in front of her, his eyes glassy as he looked up from her, laid back in the chair with the drill embedded inside of his brain. "I realize this is your first time, but I need you to pay attention. You're good at that, able to follow orders well. Taking leadership of the garrison through no merit of your own, but only because you survived long enough to inherit it, I'm sure it hasn't been easy."
He flinched at her words but settled down again after a moment and she leveled him with a steady look.
"We're not made for leadership. Few of us were, but we have to do what we have to do. God's will is absolute, but what do we do when we no longer know what that is? We find out what it is."
Each angel out there had been horribly infected, all wanting wildly different things now, and she couldn't fix them all one at a time. It would take too long and time was off the essence. In only a few years Heaven was in shambles and it would only get worse if someone didn't step in and do something. She could get to the leaders though, the ones the others followed, and find what they wanted. Collecting them all under her banner would be faster and more efficient, and with luck they'd be just like Inias here, lost and easy to exploit. He clung to his last orders, to protect the prophet, and while she'd love to get her hands on Kevin Tran right now it was better to leave him guarded where he was. Yes, at the moment it was better to use that little human as a conditioner to get Inias to listen to her. It was the chink in his mental armor, a weakness, and they all had them.
"We need to find out what God wants," she said firmly to Inias, commanding him as she knew he needed. "There's someone out there who had access to Him, contact with Him, and we need her again now. Apathos might have screwed up her job concerning the final fight, but we might have use for her after all. So, Inias, why don't you tell me more about this Daphne woman?"
There was a resistance in him, but only for a couple moments, and as he began to speak Naomi felt herself grin. There was nothing quite like the details of a plan starting to form, and she was going to make it a good one.
Naomi wasn't a leader, and the very thought of free will made her sick to her stomach, but she was a manipulator. Lucifer had been made to be loved, and she'd been made to do this. Since their Father didn't feel like being around, why not see how far she could take it?
After all, there was Heaven to save.
Fingers traced over wallpaper, feeling the slight indents under it for the warding carved into the wood paneling underneath. They were subtle and thin, and no one would have known the markings were there if they didn't already have an indication of where to look. This was the first time he had been in this particular apartment, but he'd felt the words all the same. Something told him it had taken a good day to get placed properly.
Daphne was going to great lengths to protect herself, though considering she had once nearly been killed by a demon and she was getting herself very closely involved in the matters of Heaven and Hell, it was certainly a smart step to take.
The apartment was smaller than her house, much smaller. Just a little bedroom with a bathroom attached, kitchenette and living room that was actually smaller than the bedroom. The place had such a temporary feel to it, like this was more a simple location to settle for a moment than a real home. He supposed it was, the nymph was only here for him.
She'd made such a change to her life, all just to assist him. Was she that helpful or was she simply that used to wandering around? The water spirit was a far way from her land of origin. Maybe no place was really 'home' to her. He supposed it was a feeling he could identify with, especially lately.
He looked up suddenly when the door opened, Daphne walking in and gasping as she saw the angel. She'd had a couple bags of groceries in her arms, the brown paper containing her food falling out of her grip in her shock. He rushed forward in an instant to take them, keeping them from spilling all over the floor.
"Inias!" she breathed out in surprise. "You startled me!"
"I apologize," he replied as he handed her the food. "I didn't mean to. I knocked before coming in."
"I wasn't here," she pointed out with an arched eyebrow.
"Is that required in this ritual for entry?" he asked.
"Well… I mean, I can't hear you knock if I'm not around," she explained.
"You can't?" he asked, feeling confused by that knowledge. "How limited is your hearing?"
"Uh… I'm best if it's across the street or something like that. Why? How far can you hear?"
"My limit on the physical plane is fifty miles."
"F-fifty?" she stammered out, to which he lowered his head in embarrassment.
"Yes, I'm not nearly as capable as my former captains were."
"Well, that's still very impressive," she said, but her tone made it clear she was just placating him. She sounded a little off, if he were to be honest. "I think I'll just get this food put away."
"You don't just drink water?" he asked as he watched her move to the kitchenette and begin sorting the food, mostly fish and vegetables.
"It's all I need to sustain myself but I can taste," she explained. "I mostly like salads and lean foods. I can't stand greasy things like burger or processed sugar. Too… manufactured. Though, I am fond of raw honey on bread. It's too bad you don't eat. I could make you a meal."
Ah yes, that whole code of hospitality that was a creed from her gods. He kept denying her chances to offer him anything, but maybe that was being impolite. He wouldn't gain anything from it but perhaps he could just ask for a glass of water to at least soothe her side of this interaction.
Something clawed in the back of his mind, that adhering to a pagan tradition was… foul. He shifted uncomfortably, not knowing where that thought had come from or liking it. Daphne had been painstakingly polite about the differences between his religion and her own. The very least he could do was respect that.
But… he had respected it already. Hadn't he? Of course they saw things differently, but that was alright as long as neither was rude about it. He didn't have to take her offer, but he had sort of wanted to… so why did it suddenly give him an itch like some filth was clinging to him?
"You haven't warded this place against angels," he blurted out suddenly, causing her to look at him curiously.
"Why would I?"
"Any one of my kind could have come in here," he pointed out.
"Well, you surprised me but I don't think I need to keep you outside," she reasoned.
She obviously had trust in him and the rest of his garrison, but there were other angels out there, ones that could potentially try to hurt her. Who though? Others that might want the prophet? Hester was dead though and anyone who could possibly still care about God's plan would not take Kevin from his assigned protectors.
"I suppose it isn't needed," he admitted. "In fact, I've been thinking I should assign someone to look after you."
She paused from putting away a loaf of bread. He couldn't tell from her expression if she was receptive to the idea or not so he simply forged on.
"You wouldn't notice them. Whoever I assign to you I will instruct to watch you silently and invisibly," he said.
"I… I would feel better if you didn't do that," she replied. "Inias, is something wrong? Why are you suddenly so worried about me? Is it Kevin? Is something happening with him?"
"As far as I know, no," he admitted. "I simply feel further protection is needed."
"Then why aren't you putting him under invisible surveillance?" she asked him evenly.
Why indeed? He'd been concerned for Kevin's privacy, wanting him to be able to be happy and have somewhat of a normal life even with his duty as a prophet. There'd been the idea of a balance between protecting him while still allowing him to breathe without a divine being following him everywhere he went. His garrison did not have the capabilities or the protective range as an archangel, but they'd been successful so far by checking in on regular shifts and by relying on Daphne to stay close while Inias became used to command.
Why did that not seem like enough all of a sudden?
"I'm worried about Heaven," he confessed after a moment. "I told you before things weren't well in my home. It's getting worse. Much worse. There hasn't been violence yet but… I think there might be soon."
"What? How do you know that?" she asked him in concern.
"It's… It's been rocky ever since the fight between Michael and Lucifer was interrupted. Ideas of what to do are fracturing us further and further. I'm worried it'll get dangerous and I don't have the power to stop it. I… I think it might be safer to move my garrison here to Earth, to keep out of the crossfire while I figure out what to do about it."
"Can you stop something that big?" she asked, to which he sighed.
"There was originally two sides in this fight, but there are dozens now. It might lead to flashes of fighting or erupt into a full scale riot. I have to take what steps I can to keep things from going any further than they already have."
He crossed the room then, placing his hands on her shoulders. She looked up at him, seemingly surprised by the touching but he had to stress to her just how important this was.
"I've changed my mind about the Fates. I know now I have to consult with them. You have to tell me where I can find them," he said firmly. "I can't be indecisive here, or hesitate. I know what you said about being careful, but I need a plan. Heaven needs a plan."
Daphne's expression seeped of uncertainty and he almost took a step back, sure he was worrying her. He wasn't usually this forceful, more gentle and slow-paced. Breathing deeply, his hands traveled down her arms and took her hands in his own, the coolness of her skin seeming to relax him.
"Please, Daphne. I need your help. Won't you take me to the Fates? I can't continue this journey without your help."
"Alright," she agreed. "But you'll have to fly. This isn't a place nymphs normally go to."
Urðarbrunnr, despite what books found in new age shops might attest, was a very nice place of comfort. It would have to be, seeing as it was the home to three goddesses. Women, even ones with cosmic powers, actually especially with cosmic powers, tended to prefer a more spruced up and comfortable environment to settle in. Though under the roots of The World Tree, there wasn't a spark of soil to be found, wood paneling fitted in around the formulating roots that gave the home its shape.
The well was the centerpiece of the place, many halls stretching out from it in different directions, covered with lush carpets and well lit. Once it have been much more natural and overrun with dirt and insects and everything else that could be expected to be found at the base of a tree, but when the Fates had moved in, they'd quickly decided modern conveniences were going to be needed.
Though at the time many of these conveniences had been more futuristic instead of modern, but what was the point of seeing the future if you couldn't take advantage every once in a while? Clotho had once given a daemon a tip about in-door plumbing, figuring it was something to greatly look forward to.
Many, many rooms had been added over the years they had lived there. Halls of books, nick-knacks, and of course their threads. The tapestry they worked on was long, intricate, and needed care of the finest material. It was a point of pride for them how vibrant it was, varied and beautiful, and it took a lot of work.
They weren't working on it at the moment though, instead playing a game of cards. Poker, to be exact. It was a fun game for them, though playing against each other made it quite the challenge. With three beings that had sight in the past, present and future it could make bluffing a tad difficult. Sometimes a single round could take as long as thirty minutes in trying to figure out what cards would come up next and trying to convince the other two whether they'd gotten a winning hand or pure junk.
As it was, they mostly played for baubles in order to pass the time while waiting for appointments. Like the one that was due very shortly.
"Is everything going smoothly?" Apathos asked as she looked over her hand, frowning as she shuffled them around into a different order. She pulled one and discarded it, the Seven of Cups hitting the pile. "Give me one."
Clotho, who was dealing this round, slid a card from the top of the deck to her sister.
"Things are on track. Dean is progressing smoothly with Castiel," she stated as she eyed The Lovers in her hand. "What about Bobby?"
"Two are required for scampering," Lachesis replied.
"You can say that again," Clotho snickered as she forked over two cards and then watched her sister narrow her eyes at what she'd gotten.
"Something decent?" she asked teasingly to which Lachesis shifted around.
"Peeking is disallowed, sister," the black-haired Fate stated before placing her cars flat down on the table. "The feathers are descending."
"Already? Hmm, we better get ready then," Clotho said as she put her cards down as well. "We can finish our hand later. I still have to draw, don't let me forget."
"As if you could," Apathos snorted, but there was the hint of a smile on her lips. "Come on. Let's meet them by the well."
It was as good a spot as any, and theatrically appropriate. The stones of the well were old, very old, held together by mud and moss and wax dripped down from the several candles that had been placed around and on it over the years. It dazzled almost like a galaxy in the darkness of space when the light was dim enough, and cast shadows over the symbols carved into the very rock itself. The water inside was cold, nearly frozen to the touch, but murky white as if it were milk. The Fates were fond of the well and took good care of it, and in turn Urðarbrunnr took good care of them as a home and good place to work.
It was impressive how fast angels could fly, even to beings like them. They'd been created to be impressive, almost like an ego stroke to their creator. Actually, scratch that, there was no almost about it. Not that Clotho couldn't appreciate fine draftsmanship when she saw it, but having something even she had a bit of trouble keeping up with did instinctively scratch at something like annoyance at the back of her mind. Luckily, they were slow in everything else they ever tried to do, mostly in thinking for themselves and that's what gave the Fates the advantage, especially here.
Inias landed down, Daphne next to him. She looked a little shaken up, probably still not entirely used to being taken around by angels yet. To count it had only happened a handful of times for her, and those times had always been just from point A to point B on Earth. Coming to another realm via angelic speed had probably been too much for the poor nymph and Inias took a moment to help steady her until she looked like she could stand without any sort of wobbling.
Apathos almost took a step forward but Clotho put a hand in front of her.
"Give her a second. This can wait."
"You've got to be kidding me, this of all things?" Apathos snorted.
"Water contained is easier to use," Lachesis agreed.
The blonde Fate wrinkled her nose at the two against one tactics before sighing and shrugging her shoulders.
"I don't think we need to contaminate her with angels any further to use her but whatever," she muttered.
"Spite and grudges are a bad look, Sister," Clotho replied. "Castiel misbehaved and fixed his mess. Are you going to be angry about it forever?"
"I have a long memory," Apathos replied coolly.
Clotho supposed she did. Honestly, when it had happened she herself had been livid at the arrogance of those two angels assuming that killing their sister would have been the end of it, and it had only been Lachesis assuring her it would all work out without their interference that had stayed her hand. While she could be calm most of the time, when Clotho got worked up it was not a pretty sight. Still, the moment was over and long past, though she supposed that was easier for her to say. She no longer was bothered by it, but she knew Apathos was more convicted by their plan than her newfound distaste for angels. She may grumble but she'd play her part as needed.
So instead they waited by the well for the two to approach. Inias looked uncertain, wavering even, but there was nothing to do for it. He was here and that was that. It had certainly taken him long enough to make up his mind but under the circumstances, he wasn't doing poorly at all. The Fate would say he could stand to be more confident in himself but self-assured divine beings tended to be a hassle to deal with.
"Welcome, Inias," she said, putting her best foot forward, even as he looked to her side and saw Apathos glaring at him. To his credit, he at least had the decency to look abashed.
"You know who I am?" he asked curiously.
"We wouldn't be good at our jobs if we didn't," she assured him. "We also know why you're here. It's why everyone comes here."
"You'll get your prophecy and go," Apathos informed him harshly. "If you're hoping for hospitality, that's not on the list for you."
"I… No, I wouldn't expect it," he admitted. "An apology wouldn't help anyway."
The Fate leveled him with a harsh look but didn't say anything else. Clotho glanced at her other sister, but Lachesis seemed otherwise entirely uninterested in the exchange, her head turned to the side and her eyes moved around this way and that and then in circles, as if following an insect flying around. Whatever she was doing, Clotho figured if it was important she'd hear about it later and if it wasn't then it was just another of Lachesis's eccentricities.
It didn't seem as if there was going to be any showmanship before the prophecy was given, but she supposed not every single time was going to come off as impressive. Inias wouldn't be too receptive to it anyway.
"Alright," she said as she clapped her hands together. "We're here to help after all. You need answers. We can give them. After that, all we can do is wish you luck."
Daphne watched from behind Inias, but kept a few respectful steps back away from him. It wouldn't do to talk to her now, to let her know how she was doing. Her independence from instructions was following the plan along well enough anyway. The nymph wasn't the type that needed constant supervision.
The three sisters joined together in the position of the circle, touching the energy of their beings together. They'd done it countless times before. Having been born to this role, it had been familiar from the first time but there was something to be said for experience. The sisters were close, always had been since they had first existed, but to touch and merge themselves together, to pull out at the fabrics of time and craft at it somehow always pulled them a little closer with an intimacy that had a warm and a comforting sensation to it. To flow together when giving a prophecy was almost like being one entity, similar to the single point of mass before the Big Bang that had burst forth and spewed out the universe.
One of the highest of Heaven whom refuses to return home
Will emerge from where he hides in on himself
To touch deeply the line of Winchester
Convince upon him to take the lead, to fill the hole left behind
And once again shall the pearly gates know purpose and peace
The angel stood there for a moment as they dropped their hands and turned to him, the middle one giving a coy smile.
"Enough or do you need more?" she asked as Inias stood there and stared at them with wide eyes.
"A leader will come back?" he questioned in reply.
"Yes. You'll be off the hook, if you play your cards right," she assured him. "That is what you needed, right?"
It wasn't the plan he'd come for, more an assurance someone else would be by to clean up the mess, but it was obvious it was what he was going to get.
"Go on, shoo," she continued as she waved her hand at him. Daphne shot them a confused look, but Clotho only shrugged. This part was well in hand, and it was on a strictly need to know basis.
"Thank you. I feel relieved," he admitted to the nymph. "We should probably get going."
"Yeah…" she said slowly, still watching the three Fates, questioningly and looking a little unsure. It never was comfortable for the pawns when they started to see their own level on the board. They might have to offer a little bonus of attention soon, but for now it was better to keep her in the dark. Easier for the water creature to keep her mouth shut if she didn't know what was going on herself.
"You drew The Tower, didn't you?" Clotho needled, unable to help herself once the two were gone. Lachesis wasn't ever much for expression, and her face was as blank as ever, but there was an answer there nonetheless. "Ah, complete and utter destruction. Perfect."
"You're enjoying this more than you probably should," Apathos said. "This is dangerous work we're doing."
"Of course it is," she replied with a wide grin. "Ending a world always is."
End of Chapter 39
Enough mystery and intrigue? I certainly hope so. Drama is like salt and pepper at the dinner table. The meal is so bland without it.