Chapter 13: The Death of an Oracle I

Walker and I said goodbye to Anthony Nelson and thanked him for the information. After my friend had turned to start walking away, I gave him another hug for good measure. He accepted gratefully and wished me luck.

"All right," Walker finally said as we reached the border of the cemetery, "Where do our travels take us now?" I faltered but didn't stumble. Unfortunately, he still noticed. "What?"

"I can't let the cycle remain broken," I told him bluntly. I watched carefully out of the corner of my eye for his reaction. "The Oracle is meant to be reincarnated as soon as she dies. Having me on earth still, as a spirit, is messing with the world in ways that it can't handle. Not right now."

There was no response, so I turned to face him. As in all moments of concentration or emotional stress, he appeared as a forlorn, battered redcoat. His face was gaunt and the streaks of grime only added to the depth of the hollows of his cheeks. At first, I thought that he was still processing the information. Then he realized that he was making a concerted effort not to start crying.

I put a hand on his arm and he didn't shrug away, which was something. I slid it around until it was resting across his thin shoulders, holding him close to me. However many times I reminded to myself that we were both dead, I still found the idea hard to reconcile. I could see him so clearly, feel him against me, hear him breathing raggedly. His musket swung and bumped against my leg a little as we walked. He kicked a rock along the pavement, which was when I realized that we could probably both be seen.

"Better fade," I said quietly, and he nodded. Then we were silent again.

After perhaps two hours of walking, he rallied, stood a little taller, and put an arm around my waist. I resisted the urge to jump. Please don't make me deal with this right now, I thought to no one in particular. Not when I've just learned that I have to die. Please, please don't make me be in love with this man.

Then I remembered Castiel and his ability to hear prayers, and quickly quieted my mind.

"So where?"

"What?" After being silent for so long, the sudden speech jarred me.

"Where do you want to do it? I mean," he corrected hurriedly, "I know that you don't want to."

I thought for a few minutes. My first thought was the house in Missoula, but then I decided that there would already be too many painful memories there for Walker. Much better do it somewhere else.

It was an interesting dilemma. If you could foresee the moment when you faded into oblivion, where would you go to do it? Your first home? Your last? The place you had your first kiss, or some exotic city that it was your last chance to visit? Would you have friends around you, or would you want to be alone? How much time would you give yourself to say goodbye?

All of these things ran through my head and answers floated to the surface, voices from versions of me who had made the same choice long ago.

It's better to go alone. It's just easier for everyone.

You must return to the place where it all began. Delphi is the center of the cycle, the holy connection. Only there can you do what must be done.

It would break his heart not to be there.

I found London to be quite stimulating. You would enjoy it, and it would be easier to detach yourself from the emotion of it.

Your friends must help. It is the only way.

Remember that you will never truly fade. You will live on in the next Oracle.

I absorbed the input, which would have overwhelmed me only a few weeks before, without missing a step. I weighed my choices, considered the feelings of all involved, and suddenly the choice was clear.

"Let's go back to the intersection," I said finally, knowing that Walker would know which I meant. "That was where it was supposed to end, anyway."

He nodded silently, tightened his grip on me, and turned his feet in the right direction.

I stood on the sidewalk, surrounded by my four friends in the world. The Impala was parked against the curb and the Winchesters were leaning against the hood in that way that they do. Both had expressions of resignation on their face, and I knew that they were becoming numb to loss.

Castiel was standing awkwardly to one side of the brothers, arms hanging loosely. As always, I could see his angelic form, cramped as it was inside his host. His face was blank but he was crumpled, barely glowing, and practically emanating despair. It was a miracle that he had come, but the four of us combined had eventually attracted his attention.

Walker stood at my side, reluctant to leave it. All four waited to hear my plan while Casper ran around, sniffing everything and totally oblivious to the situation.

I cleared my throat as though I was about to give a formal presentation.

"Right, well, thanks for coming." No reaction. Awkward. "Um, as you know, I've called everyone here…" I caught sight of the miserable expression on Walker's face and sighed. "Look, staying on earth isn't doing anything to help the Apocalypse. I know what you guys are up to, hunting down the horsemen, and any weirdness that I'm causing will only throw you off their trail. You need to find Lucifer and you need to imprison him. You- we- are the good guys, and sometimes that means making sacrifices. And that's what I'm willing to do, if it'll help any of you at all."

I looked around at my friends. They understood sacrifice for the greater good, they understood my motives. They weren't happy about it, but at least none of them was going to oppose me.

"Sam and Dean, I need you guys to send my spirit on its way. I don't know how you usually do that-"

"Salt and burn the body," Sam said mechanically, almost clinically.

"But I was already cremated."

"Then we'll mix salt with the ashes. If you're trying to go anyway, that should be enough."

I nodded. This was normal. They were hunters doing their job. I was a wayward spirit, causing trouble by sticking around. Normal. Natural order of things. I almost laughed at that. There was absolutely nothing about this situation that was natural. Casper nuzzled my hand and I petted him absentmindedly.

"Cas, that's where you come in. I can't risk Zachariah or any of his cronies intercepting me again." This time, I noticed a definite bristle of animosity at the name. Good. He deserved it. "I need you to help me bypass the system, go directly to my next body."

"Occasionally, worthy individuals are escorted to heaven by angels. Martyrs, saints…" His deadpan voice trailed off and his eyes clouded over. We all gave him a minute, but after a respectful number of seconds had passed by, Dean prompted him quietly.

"Cas?"

The angel jerked and blinked around at us, as though he had forgotten where he was. His unsteady posture looked familiar to me. Was he drunk?

"Um, yes. I can escort your spirit to whatever incarnation is next in the cycle."

"Great. I guess that's that."

Sam went around to the back of the car and produced an urn. I raised an eyebrow. "You guys certainly came prepared."

"Yeah, you know…" He trailed off, but I knew what the rest of the sentence was going to be. Places to go, things to do. I was one small part of the Winchesters' life, and now they were going to outlive me. Throughout our entire friendship, I had assumed that I would watch them die, old and surrounded by families they had finally made the world safe enough to support, and then I would have to go on. I was just one more interesting side quest to them, I realized. One more ally who helps with a few cases and then fades into the background. One more body to salt and burn. One more goodbye in a string of many.

I didn't belong in this scene and I never had. I should have died and cycled through, and they would never even have known my name. That was how the world should have been, and I could return a little bit of that to normal now.

The emotional aspect of the moment was fading into the background. This was what needed to be done.

I walked over to the brothers and pulled them into a giant hug, much to their surprise. "Thank you," I whispered, "for showing me this world. It was amazing to have the chance to hunt with you."

Despite my earlier thoughts, it was a struggle to remain solid as they returned the hug wholeheartedly.

"Good luck, Andrea," Sam said.

"Yeah," Dean added. "I'm sure we'll see you around."

I made an effort to grin. It probably came out a little lopsided. Then I turned to Cas and hesitated for a second before hugging him, too.

He barely responded. His depression ran deep, and I knew that he was barely functioning, but he did at least make the gesture of putting his hands on my back. I hurt for him and wished that there was something, anything I could do to pull him out of it. Mostly for the Winchesters' sake.

As before, a few suggestions from long-buried memories drifted to the surface.

Just kiss him. That'd snap him out of it soon enough!

Smack him. He's asking for it.

Tell him to keep hope. Even for one who knows the future, that can be the most valuable advice to those who suffer.

The last one jarred me back to myself. Duh. I could see the future.

I stepped back from the unenthusiastic embrace and dug as far into myself as I could, down through the memories and the pain and the prophecy to the little core of power which glowed darkly. I had avoided it before when sifting through memories, honestly afraid of the power is held. What the hell, I thought now. Nothing to lose.

I probed it anxiously and felt my head snap back and my arms fling wide before I lost track of my spirit, flying forwards and backwards in time, snatching glimpses of my own death, and the one before that, then one a few decades ahead, then some ancient battle…

I managed to focus in on the near future and skimmed it, not wishing to get too far into the gory details. One thread of timeline stuck out to me and I settled on it, not sure why but hoping it held the answer.

Cas and Dean fighting side by side to get out of Purgatory. The strength of their friendship driving them apart and bringing them back together. Sam and Dean, exhausted after a hunt but enjoying each other's company in another dingy motel room. Cas and Sam and Dean discussing tactics, Lucifer locked up for good. Future trials and not happiness, exactly, but perseverance.

I whipped back to myself and noted that only a few seconds had gone by, for which I was thankful. Sam and Dean looked at me oddly. Walker was still behind me, as if he was backing me up. Cas seemed uninterested.

"Castiel," I said, speaking with the authority of a thousand voices. Cool. "Do not lose hope. Know your allies and fight by their sides, and even the darkest of situations may be remedied." I flicked through the memories/premonitions, looking for any specific advice I could offer. "And beware your hubris, for it shall lead to… um… bad things," I finished lamely, the echo fading from my voice. Good general advice.

For the first time that day, Cas's eyes met mine as he connected with the situation. I smiled. "There we go."

"Was that you seeing the future?" Sam asked anxiously. "Can you give us anything more specific, something on how to trap Lucifer?"

I knew now what they would have to go through before their lives could return to any semblance of normal. "Just… take care of each other. All three of you. You'll need the help," I added.

Dean muttered something that sounded like "typical prophets," but I ignored him. Cas was back in the game- for now, at least- and I knew that the three of them would pull through. That was all I needed.