A/N: SO. This chapter is long and I apologize ahead of time. This one will likely be super long and so will the following chapter. You have been warned ahead of time. PERSONALLY THO...I like long chapters, so maybe you will too, yes? :D There wasn't really a good cutoff point I wanted to use...so yep, here it is!
Northern California, One Month After Attack on Manhattan
Lucifer had fallen. Dean had died. A tyrant fell and a hero conquered the day by ridding the world of his evil. That was the general consensus of what had happened after all.
Gabriel had given Dean the means to trap Lucifer forever. He knew the consequences of his actions. He knew exactly what that would entail, sending him into the abyss. The spell he had given Dean was a spell to open a dimensional door leading straight into the Ninth Circle of Hell. Dimensional Doors always required payment. And this Door required the soul of the caster...which meant it would not close without Dean.
It shouldn't have hurt Gabriel as much as it did. He had exiled himself to a place that once held meaning to the both of them. It was a place they felt safe. It was a place where there was memory that only one of them remembered. He wished there had been another way to stop Lucifer...but there was none, not at that time...and now the world was rid of someone they would never recognize as the one who saved them all.
He missed Dean. He always would.
Gabriel once took Dean to the tallest tree he could find. It was called Hyperion. He had even built him a tree house inside for him to visit from time to time whenever Gabriel had possession of Dean. It was more than a tree house, it was a home. A home for both of them to escape from their problems. He had even given Dean his first gift here, a piano. The piano, Dean carried around with him in his youth, practicing until he mastered several songs of his own.
Of course that piano was no longer here. It was one of the first items that Lucifer had taken to destroying after killing and turning Dean into a demon. It would mean nothing to Dean now were he still alive.
It was curious, however when he went inside the tree house. He couldn't muster the courage for so many days, afraid of all the memories it might have stirred.
But the little house was not empty as it should have been. It remained relatively untouched all these years as Gabriel expected. There was something new, however. It was sitting on the ledge of a tiny window that had been closed by wooden blinds. It was a glass apple ornament, no bigger than the size of Gabriel's fist. His eyes widened as he came upon it and he mentally berated himself for being a coward and not coming up here sooner.
Making a beeline towards it, Gabriel pulled the apple off the ledge and held it tight in his hands, just beyond breaking point. What could it have meant? Could it possibly have meant that Dean remembered? Truly remembered their time together...How could it be so? Did he recover his memory...come here?
No, he was being foolish. This was merely a trick. Lucifer had probably left this here as a form of tormenting Gabriel. Toying with him with something he could never have.
The little ornament shook in his hand at the thought. Rage took over and the apple shattered in his hand. Before he could even mourn the loss, something fell out midst the shards of glass.
A folded piece of paper. Discolored by a faint brown. Gabriel grabbed it and unfolded it, smoothing it out on the ledge so he could read the familiar handwriting.
Present Day
"This book is really interesting," said Carmen unexpectedly from the passenger seat. Gabriel looked up to find her going through one of the textbooks she stole from Walker's office. He glanced at the top of the page she was on to get the title.
"Inferno. Why would you read something like that?"
"Better question is why Walker would read something like this. This isn't the same as the epic poem...It's kind of more...modern," said Carmen, flipping through the pages and revealing several graphic pictures. "It says here that Dante was not a man but an angel. He didn't go down into the ninth circle to find his girlfriend either."
Gabriel looked amused. The road was dark and damp with rain...ahead of them was the car they were following at a distance. They hadn't stopped yet and it had been hours. Not even for a pee break...but they hadn't sped up either. Not in a real rush to get to where they were going. It was kind of a paradox.
It was estimated they were heading towards California...across state lines without stopping once.
"Dante, an angel...," said Gabriel thoughtfully. "That's a new interpretation."
"There's tons of interpretations," Carmen replied dismissively.
"How's our prisoner?" Gabriel changed the subject. He said the last word coldly. "Waking up yet?"
Carmen looked over her shoulder. "Probably. Want me to check?"
"We can't exactly stop...," said Gabriel hesitantly.
"It's been a few hours," said Carmen, ignoring his statement. She opened the car door...while the car was moving and began to climb out.
"Carmen-" Gabriel protested.
"Be right back," Carmen said over the sound of blowing wind in an ominous voice, closing the door. It was very fortunate they seemed to be far behind the others. She closed the door. Gabriel heard a slam on the ceiling, and her 'oops' as she continued. He shook his head and heard the van doors close. Carmen was inside now.
Walker was indeed waking up. The noise level probably provoked it. Carmen took a seat from him across the van, legs cross, hands together. She looked like the image of a patient teenager, especially with that smile plastered on her face. Purposely, she balled up one hand and hit the side of the car hard enough to dent the interior.
"This is a rental, Carmen!" Gabriel yelled from the front.
"I don't give a damn, Gabriel. Maybe you should have stolen it!" Carmen retorted, not bothering to keep her voice down.
Walker blinked, disorientated. He looked at her and panic immediately coursed inside him. Instinctively, he searched around for an escape and his eyes locked on the van doors.
"Don't even think about it, Walker. The car's moving. You'll get your sense of hearing and motion detecting soon enough," said Carmen sharply. "But if you feel up for making a break for it, be my guest. I might actually enjoy watching you roll into oncoming traffic before I drag you right back here."
"What have you done?" said Walker croakily.
"The more important question is what have you done? You just infected me with a demon killing disease in our last conversation...and I'm still feeling the effects of that," said Carmen. "Why don't we start with the cure? Where is it? How does it work?"
"There is no cure," said Walker.
"For your sake, I hope that's a lie," Carmen answered. "I can always influence your mind and pull the information out by force if that would make things easier."
"You don't have the strength to do that anymore," said Walker a little smugly. "Your mind tricks won't work on me anymore without the strength to back it up."
"That's what you think, Walker, but I'm pretty confident my physical prowess is still up to par," Carmen stood up then and drew closer. She could hear his heartbeat pick up and she took no hesitance in pulling her sword from her back. The sword was the very essence of her being, able to be called at will. However, he wasn't wrong. Her Will magic was waning and it wouldn't be long before she couldn't draw out even this.
She plunged the sword into Walker's thigh, who let out a howling scream of pain. Taking his jaw, Carmen clamped three fingers inside, wrenched out the sword just as he lunged instinctively towards her, hindered from nursing his wound when hands wrapped her around her wrist. She didn't have to turn to know that Gabriel had slowed down, expressed concern by looking back at them through the little metal grate.
"Carmen, what the hell do you think you're doing?!" Gabriel made a sharp swerve that nearly threw them off the road.
"Eyes on the road, Gabriel," Carmen replied calmly. Walker's blood began to wet the top of her leg from contact.
"Bite down," Carmen ordered, raising the sword so that she held the tip on his upper lip, just inside his mouth. "That's a good boy. You lie to me, we're going to do some dental work next. You infect me with your poison, I infect you with mine. I just stabbed you with a blade made of pure hellfire. It's burning through your bloodstream as we speak. It's only through my bidding that you're not a puddle of organ right now, do you understand me?"
With tears streaming down his eyes, Walker gulped and slowly nodded his head.
"Good," said Carmen, withdrawing his blade so he could speak. He gasped and immediately scrambled to cover his open wound just as Carmen stepped back and sat down, elbows on her knees, leaning towards him. "We're following your friends as we speak. They think you're dead, Walker. For some reason, they decided you're important enough to cross state lines and tell...whomever. How about you start by telling me where we're going?"
Walker was gasping. The mental ravaging she had given him in his office didn't really help his coherence or ability to speak faster. He looked at her through horrified eyes. This man was not trained to fight her kind, and yet she had no doubt that the men in the truck probably were. Hunters. He wasn't a hunter. He was what he said. A psychiatrist. She might have felt pity if she wasn't already so irritated.
"Tick tock," said Carmen impatiently, thumb rubbing a line down the hilt of the blade.
"We're...We're...," He cleared his throat of a hard lump. Sweat beaded down his forehead and he struggled to concentrate. "We're probably...going to the prison...Yes...The prison."
"We're going to a prison? What prison?" Carmen asked.
"California State," said Walker. "It's...It's heavily guarded...but...but...he's there."
"Who's there? I warn you, Doctor Walker...My friend in the driver seat has something called a moral compass. I can assure you that I lack one. If you lie to me, I will make this very painful for you," Carmen raised one eyebrow, a shadow passing over her so that Walker only saw one half of an unsmiling face.
"Doctor Moore. He...He oversees this whole operation...Please, I don't know anything more," said Walker, blinking at her with unfocused eyes.
"Doctor? Another one? What kind of fucked up operation is this? You got you watching a harmless kid and a doctor planting hunters around him. What's the plan, Walker? Were you going to kill Sam when the time was right?"
Blood seeped from Walker's knuckles. "...No...never kill..Only watch...Protect."
"Protect from what? He's human. He has nothing to do with this anymore,"
"Protect...from you," Walker whispered.
"I never meant Sam any harm. In fact, I was the one who hid him before I was...," The unpleasantness of her capture after trying to protect Sam three years ago was too fresh on her mind, and it was her time to feel a trigger spasm of fear.
The torture she had went through...no one should have ever gone through it, whether deemed worthy of it by Hell or not. Her hold on the sword tightened until her palm bled. It took everything to speak in a composed voice. "...captured. I was trying to protect him...but then he was brought to Lawrence...and then you showed up, Walker. Tell me everything you know about Sam Costigan."
"He's not of this world," said Walker quietly.
"Yes. You said that before. And I want to know why you believe that,"
"I do not believe. I know,"
"Why do you know that? What do you know?" Carmen prompted.
"Everything,"
"How do you know everything? It was my understanding that your kind is too stupid to see what we can. To believe in what we do...to believe in us,"
"I told you...I don't believe. I know," said Walker, coughing once, releasing a trickle of blood down his chin. His face had gone ghostly white. "We all know...We're not...We're not as stupid as you think...You would know. You were one of us...Carmen Matthews."
Not once in all the times of Walker's consciousness had Carmen spoken her name. Her first name was tattooed on her arm, hidden mostly by the sleeve of the romper. But her full name was not something she had acknowledged. Not since her human family had dug up an empty grave and labeled it as her own somewhere in Paradise Rock. No one knew her by that name anymore. It was dead to her.
But hearing it said aloud brought upon a string of memories from a human life that she could no longer fathom. When she first turned, her mind was unable to pick up these memories. Since her time in Hell, she was able to remember...little by little, who she had been...and there, she embraced who she had become.
To hear a human speak the name that should have been buried six feet under was...unnerving.
"...How do you know my name?"
He could see that this had stumped her. He could see that this had scared her. And he cashed in on that, locking eyes with her in a way that made her feel a little more than exposed. And even though the breath he released was labored and hardly controlled, his voice seemed to gain strength. "We...all know your name. We knew you'd come...One way or another. We were all given your features as a description to be aware of."
Carmen's jaw twitched. "Why?"
"Because you're a demon," The word was merely a title. A word to dictate species, but the way it was said was meant to be an insult. "And all demons are a plague on this planet."
"You have a sick perception of the world, Walker. Your entire species does. Who do you think saved this planet from destruction three years ago? If you know so much, you should know the answer to that question."
Walker mumbled something then, his head hanging low and seemingly lifeless, the only sign of movement was his lips saying a single word. Carmen leaned in close to catch it. Sounded like he said "money".
"Douchebag," said Carmen. "Gabriel, I'm killing him. Sorry. I'll take responsibility."
"Wait," Gabriel turned his head, only just hearing her. "What? What are you doing?! Carmen, don't do anything stupid!"
"You can kill me...," Walker raised his head to look at her right in the face. "You've killed many...You have no soul...No heart. You can do so without a second thought, can't you, Carmen? Because he destroyed that soul when he created you...You're only human in appearance...but you'll never be human again...how it must kill you inside to know."
"Carmen," Gabriel warned from the front. "He's saying what you want to hear...You don't have to do this."
"Eyes on the road," Carmen muttered half-heartedly. But her body was trembling, as was the blade in her hand. So much for having no fear. She wasn't afraid of death. She was just semi afraid that he was right, that he would be proven to be right...but how could it be so? She had a soul...even though it was tainted.
"Yeah, Carmen...You don't want to do this, do you?" Walker goaded. "No...it's exactly what you want to do. You've never wanted anything more...but killing me...won't give you the answers you need to go on, Carmen."
"You beg me to kill you and then you beg for your life? Christ, Walker. I just don't know what you want...Guess you're leaving it up to me," said Carmen with a tinkling little laugh. She raised the sword high and thrust it deep into his chest cavity. Walker's expression mirrored shock for the longest moment, his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide and bloodshot.
Blood filled Carmen's palm, yet she didn't break her gaze from his face. They were too close and even without using Will, she could sense that his life was slipping away. She had killed a lot of people over the last three years, but killing was never a pleasant experience for her, despite what Walker had said. It was a terrible ordeal. It always left its scars.
"I don't enjoy killing," said Carmen softly. "You were wrong about me."
Walker's lips stretched into a faint smile. But he couldn't hold on much longer. His head sagged and he closed his eyes. Carmen pulled the blade out from his chest and placed it back on a sheath on her back. Again, it disappeared.
Killing Walker didn't make her feel better. Life was a precious gift to take. When her maker killed her, she knew her remaining human life force had empowered him. Killing Walker made her feel sick to her stomach. The effects of the Stigma were rampant now and she felt like her blood cells were on fire. Even for a demon, that hurt. A pounding headache began in the back of her skull.
It took forever to take the few steps towards Gabriel's grate that remained closed to her. She knew he could hear her. " Walker's dead."
She could practically see him sigh in exasperation. "I told you not to do anything reckless."
"No, you said I do reckless things. There's a difference...If I didn't own up to it, then where would we be?" It was such hardship to even speak properly now and she could feel sickness curl in her stomach. She hunched over, clutching her side as though Walker had injured her. "Gabriel...I don't feel so good."
"Just hang on a little bit longer. I think we're almost there," said Gabriel. "Did you find out anything useful? Before you..."
Using the wall for support with her free hand, Carmen made her way to the seat she had across from Walker before. "Why are you asking me? You probably heard the whole thing."
He didn't answer, so Carmen sighed and leaned back. " I have a feeling we're not going to get a good welcoming committee when we get there..."
California State Prison, High Security Ward-Medical Office
"Jess, I told you to stop playing around with the webcam. It's late over there," The doctor chided lightly. But the young blonde girl on the laptop screen looked nothing short of wide awake.
"Dad, it's my birthday. You really think I'm going to miss out on talking to you?" Jessica replied. She had just been showing off her gifts one by one, much to the amusement of the father. A new cell phone, a scrap book for school and a camera.
"I know, baby, I know...but your mother's probably going to come up those stairs any moment and shut it off," said Doctor Moore. He rubbed his own eyes in a tired sort of way. Moore was around forty or forty-five maybe. He had bright blue eyes like his daughter, but other than that, no noticeable feature to resemble her. He wore square black spectacles and his hair was dark, slicked back in a smart sort of way.
"When are we going to see each other again? I miss you...Can't you take a week off?"
"You know I wish I could, baby. But I'm almost wrapped up here. I promise I'll be back soon...The project just needs a few more finishing touches and we'll be through. I promise," said Moore reassuringly.
"You said that last time," Jessica sighed. "You said that two weeks ago too. When you promised you were going to be here for my birthday."
"I know," Moore shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment and then looking up after shaking off a bad thought. "But I mean it this time. It's almost over."
There was a knock at his door and Moore looked up to find his assistant, a short red haired kid with glasses lean into the doorway. "Doctor Moore. Rogers and Stark are here. They said it's urgent they speak to you."
"Regarding?" Moore replied, looking clearly annoyed at the interruption.
"They wouldn't say, Doctor. Just that they wanted to see you immediately,"
"Jess, I have to go," said Doctor Moore unwillingly, eyes on his daughter, warming instantly. "I love you."
"I love you too, Dad," Jessica smiled.
"Goodbye,"
Something flickered in Jessica's expression on the screen. "Huh...I don't know why...I hate goodbyes. Don't say goodbye. Just say...you'll see me later."
Doctor Moore chuckled. "All right. I'll see you later, kiddo."
He pressed two fingers to his mouth, kissed them then waved once at the screen before shutting it closed. His assistant was waiting for him patiently by the doorway where Moore nodded once to signify he was ready. He sat down in his chair, interlocking his fingers together. His office was small, similar to Walker in that he had a keen interest in study. There were various books on the shelves but curiously, none of them truly pertained to his study. If he was the prison doctor, then there were too few books on anatomy or psychology or sciences...Instead he had more historical books then anything.
A whole set of encyclopedia was just a shelf away...what use would a prison doctor need of that in a work station...at his place of work?
Rogers and Stark walked in, both wearing twin scowls. He should have been prepared for their foul moods after driving across several state lines, but he had no patience for it. It was his daughter's birthday after all and they had just robbed him a few precious minutes with her.
"I don't see the point of disarming us on the way in, Doc...We're not planning on starting a prison riot," Stark spoke up first, easily the most agitated person Moore had ever beheld. Hunters were so hard to work with. They lacked the patience and intellect to have normal conversation with. Stark was Italian descent, former mafia before his older brother was killed in the attack on Manhattan. He was shorter than a man his age should have been and though fully American, the crude Brooklyn accent made an appearance from time to time. He had dark brown hair and deep brown, calculating sort of his eyes. This man was a killer long before hunting became an unofficial profession.
Rogers was the calmer of the two. It was why they were frequently paired together. He was much more likable. Rogers was tall with a strong, muscular build and short blonde hair, parted off on one side. Dressed in non-hunting gear, he would have the look of an all-american soldier. But that was what he was. A former soldier.
Both these men deserved to be behind bars just like the animals in the cages here...but they weren't interested in killing humans. They were in it for the long haul...
Demon hunting.
"It's a precaution. This is the maximum security ward...They're not going to let you in with all your...accessories," said Moore irritably.
"Right, whatever," said Stark.
"We came here for a reason, Doctor Moore," said Rogers, cutting straight to the point. "Walker's been compromised. Two nights ago, he raised the alarm and when we got there, he was gone. We had a patrol search the apartment. Empty. Not a single hair missing."
"Except him," said Doctor Moore. "That's fine...If he was taken, then it doesn't matter. Walker's information to the enemy would prove useless. He was on 'need-to-know' basis.' He had nothing to give."
"Hold on, Doc," Stark raised a hand. "You're not letting him finish. We said he was gone, right? We found an abandoned van of highway fifty-five. He's dead, Doc. The shrink's dead...Someone mutilated his body. Stabbed him in the chest...the leg...and it looked like it was the work of..."
"You can say it, Stark," said Rogers exasperatedly. "Demons."
"AND YOU BROUGHT THEM HERE?!" Moore roared, jumping to his feet. "What are you two insane?! Were you not thinking?! How could you bring them here?! Here! Of all places to lead what's probably a mass of demons to this place!"
"Calm the fuck down, doctor," said Stark. "It was probably one demon trying to scare us off. He's nothing to these defenses. Quit your bitching. Walker put up a fight before he left. We could see that in the office."
"You honestly believe that? ONE demon? And you honestly think one demon means nothing? Need I remind you that one demon razed New York City to the ground?" Moore all but growled. "Need I remind you that one demon can make a massive difference against any number of us?"
"Your little history lesson on us is spectacularly flawed," A musical voice said from the door. Three pairs of eyes shot up to see. Carmen leaned against the side of the door, her skimpy little dress was soaking...dripping. Blood splatters marked every inch of her exposed skin. She certainly didn't look well...not as impressive for someone who had presumably killed everyone on her way here. Yet her will was remarkable...she leaned off the door and began to walk towards them.
Trigger happy Stark went for his gun, shot off one round in her direction. In such a blur that it was impossible to tell if it actually happened, her sword was drawn and she cut the oncoming bullet in half with one strike. Two tiny pieces of lead hit the floor and rolled in different directions.
"Next time you try to shoot me, I'm going to rip open your friend's throat and make you drink out his essence," Carmen growled.
"Where's the guard...The guard? Where are they?" Stark all but demanded, panic breaking his voice.
"Hold on...," Carmen held up one finger, kept it there and began to count to five. "There we go." Right on cue, the whole room flashed red, and a resounding alarm went through the prison. "I left a few alive to have that dramatic effect. What do you think?"
"Carmen," Moore's eyes never strayed from her face. Even in the face of utmost danger, he raised his chin, unafraid.
"Carmen?" Rogers repeated, looking back at Moore distractedly. "Carmen Matthews?...You're not serious?...She's just a kid."
"Oh, she's more than that...She's so much more than that," said Moore, not taking his eyes off her. "...She's an infection. A disease...I can see it on you. Fascinating, really, Carmen. If I'm about to die, you've given me such a sight to see before parting the world...I never thought I'd see Stigma work it's course on a pure heart demon."
How the hell did he know that? Who the hell...was...talking to these men. Where were they? Everywhere? Behind the scenes? Behind the curtains of every household ever?
"Doctor Moore...Orders are to keep her alive, aren't they?" said Rogers.
Carmen tilted her head in his direction. "Is capture one of your main objectives as well, hunter? I daresay you'll never get close enough to capture me."
"I say we shoot her now," said Stark, cocking his pistol and raising it to her eye level.
Carmen sniffed and raised her chin, smiling without humor. "Oh...I'd like to see you try and see what that does. I'm already infected, hunter...I dare you to try to shoot me with more of your poison...I. Dare. You."
"Doctor," Stark responded, clearly asking for the directive.
"I'm only going to ask you one time, Doctor Moore. Where is the Scripture?" Carmen asked, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes and drawing one out.
The three of them exchanged a look and Carmen watched them all closely, her eyes snapping on to Moore. She lit the end of her cigarette and inhaled deeply. The smoke burned. The taste was acrid and filled her mouth with a feeling of dryness...like sand paper. She threw the cigarette down after the first drag. "What kind of world is this where the doctors are running the show? You got a shrink on Sam Costigan and now we got you. What's your story, lab coat? You just hate my kind? You like to experiment on them because it's nice and scientific?"
Moore smiled. "Experiment? While you seem like you might be a good study, Carmen. I would hardly dedicate my life to you...No, there are much more important things."
"Such as a Scripture that you stole?" Carmen hedged.
"I didn't steal the Scripture...The Scripture was destroyed long ago...A shame, really...that you traveled all this way for nothing,"
"Oh, I wouldn't say all that," said Carmen pleasantly. There was a flash movement, something glinting at her side. For a moment, all three of them looked at the tiny blade darting straight for Rogers. He would have moved, but the velocity broke all gravitational laws. The blade went right between his eyes, trailing blood.
He staggered for a few seconds before collapsing on his front.
"Steve!" Stark cried out, falling to his knees beside him. "Steve. Steve, please wake up."
"Now that I got your attention," said Carmen smoothly, stepping forward, past Rogers' body. Her eyes were on Doctor Moore as well. He didn't look traumatized like Stark did. His lip twitched in some annoyance but that was all. He worked in a prison, what could she expect? He watched people die all the time.
Stark moved to attack her from behind. Without turning around, Carmen reached behind her, took his whole head in the palm of her hand and slammed it on Moore's desk. Multiple times. Blood burst out of his skull, down both eyes until the head she grappled with become a bloody mass of gore and bone.
She pulled his skull out in a show of strength and threw it against the wall with enough force that it shattered upon impact. Another splash of blood on her face. It was the first time Carmen looked truly like a demon. Her usually silky blonde hair was caked with blood, dried in several spots that made it look ready to break. Carmen leaned down, pressed both hands down on the table.
Moore was shaking. A muscle in his jaw began to jump.
"I said once. Now if you honestly think I won't be killing you by now...,"
Moore's lab coat was splattered with Rogers and Stark's blood. But even then, he remained defiant. "It doesn't matter if you kill me, Carmen. The Scripture is not here. I wasn't lying. Even if you do kill me, another will rise. It always happens that way."
"Oh, I know, Doctor. You have an impeccable source of information lurking in the shadows. I don't care about the Scripture. I don't even know what the damn Scripture is save for a poor description from my good friend...and even that doesn't seem to cover it. No one drops everything for a piece of paper. No, I want to know what that impeccable source is. How do you know who I am? How do you know what Sam is? Why are you watching him?"
"We aren't watching him. You took care of that," said Moore bitterly, strategically backing away. Raising another alarm? Not subtle. Not at all.
"Moore, you signal a hoard to kill me and I will kill you," said Carmen coldly, glancing down. "I wager this blood splattered frame contains your daughter's picture. You may not care about your own life, but I can kill her...right before your eyes."
For the first time since she laid eyes on him, Doctor Moore trembled. His face was carefully composed. But even then, the mention of his daughter was a breaking point. He could die a thousand times over but losing his daughter was a fate worse than death.
"She has nothing to do with this," said Moore slowly.
"You know what? I don't either...I never had a choice...You make your followers believe we're infection...Diseases. Yet if I turned your daughter into one of mine, could you shoot the magic bullet through her heart?"
"You'd never get that far,"
"Says who?"
The smell. The sudden smell. Acrid...like sulfur. It was so strong. Carmen could have recoiled from it. Where did it come from? Her eyes darted around in wonder, distracted despite herself. Certainly when doing a staredown, you don't expect there to suddenly be a stench in the air. She blinked and her eyes seemed to burn...Surely her stigma wasn't acting in now...She was suppressing most of her symptoms right now in a tightly coiled ring of Will on the inside.
Smoke seeped from the windows, pouring in like blood, red in color and thick like fumes from a fire. She recognized this smell, she recognized this taint more than any other living demon.
Crowley's eyes were dark and black. But his smile was tantalizing. She knew him. She knew him much more than she needed to ever know him. This was the demon that had imprisoned her for more than a year, kept her locked up in a cell by herself with no light...with no food...with only deathly thoughts as her company. For two years, she screamed and cried, hoping to die, begging to die whenever someone passed by her cell, whenever a shadow came...and two years all she she heard was his sick laughter.
"Carmen," Crowley greeted politely as though she was his oldest friend.
"Crowley," She replied as though his name were a curse word.
"It's so good to see you, Carmen," said Crowley. "How long has it been? Few months?"
"Two years...not long enough, if you ask me," said Carmen through her teeth. "What are you doing here, Crowley? Are you the one that's sold us out?"
"Sold you out?" Crowley repeated, amused. He exchanged a look with Moore who looked relatively unperturbed that a demon had manifested in his office. In fact, he looked relieved. "I hardly think this is a sell out, my dear. This is an investment."
"An investment in what? What have you been doing? Supplying them fresh demon blood so they can create more Stigma?" Carmen snapped.
Crowley laughed, a rich sound. "Stigma? Stigma is a hardly a perfect product. Why, just look at the effect it has on you, You should be a puddle by now, but that has yet to happen...Although..." His head tilted, curious, despite himself. "I see it has brought upon something in you...How are you feeling?"
"Fuck off," Carmen bit back.
Crowley was laughing again. He placed his hands together. "Doctor Moore. I'll be taking it from here. This one isn't going anywhere."
"It's over, Crowley. I'm not working alone," said Carmen savagely. "I have someone with me. You may know him as Gabriel. You know, The same Gabriel who busted me out of your little prison last time?"
Something flickered across Crowley's face. Panic maybe? He glanced at Moore then back again. "No matter. Your presence here is barely an interruption."
"My friend thinks differently. You see, we kind of split before we got here. He's already on his way to whatever it is you're keeping in this prison...and he's going to get it. Unless you think you can stop him...Have you ever tangoed with an Archangel, Crowley? All I have to do is chant his name three times and he'll come back for me...you think you're up for it?"
Crowley's perfect mask of nonchalance broke and he leaned towards her, a hiss building in his throat. "You cowardly little girl...You have no idea whom you've crossed."
"I don't bow before a false king," Carmen retorted, equally cold. "There are some in our realm who would call me Queen."
"You are no queen. You are a mistake. You understand this, yes? Your maker created you on accident. You were never meant to exist and all you've proven since your time as one of us is that you are a massive nuisance...and you have stopped nothing," Crowley's venomous threat was unmistakable. He turned to Doctor Moore. Poor doctor had backed into a corner during their conversation...and now he looked like a frightened mouse who's experimenter had turned the lights on in their cage. "And you are...completely useless. Everyone has their uses, Doctor Moore...You've fulfilled yours."
And what happened next made Carmen's jaw drop. One moment they were simply looking at each other...She expected Crowley's departure, but she expected he'd take Moore with him. But no, instead the demon's gaze grew cold as he raised his hand and snapped his fingers once. Moore's entire body burst into red flames. He screamed and screamed, staggering blindly, reaching...hoping something would save him. But Carmen was frozen in place, paralyzed as he made his way towards her unwillingly. Flesh melted off his skin as though it was liquid and soon he became nothing more than a pile of ash at her feet among Stark and Rogers' remains.
She looked up to meet Crowley's gaze once before the demon gave her a small smirk before vanishing in a cloud of red smoke.
"Fuck," Carmen snapped. He got away. How could she let this happen? Now they were never going to find anything out. He could be soaring over the Atlantic Ocean for all she knew.
California State Prison, D Block
Gabriel ignored the clamoring. Guards were dead. Carmen had made quick work of them. Their bodies littered the ground around him and Gabriel was careful not to step on any of them. Prisoners screamed at him from their cells, reaching for him, begging him to let them free.
But he wasn't here to free criminals. There was enough crime activity going on here outside the bars then inside. At least these prisoners were regulated to some degree.
He was in D block, the second floor on the right where he stopped at the last cell where the prisoner was curiously sitting on his bed, ignoring all the noise. But when Gabriel passed him by, he looked at him with dead brown eyes, fringed by dark lashes. He was gaunt with tanned brown skin and high cheekbones. He was maybe fifty or sixty, and it was clear by the way he held himself, he had been in this prison for most of his life.
"If I promise you your freedom, will you tell me something?" Gabriel asked.
The old man stood up with a supreme effort, one hand remaining on his cot to keep balanced. He walked over to the bars and Gabriel saw him in the light. He had a thin, graying beard and moustache.
"Depends on what you want to know," The prisoner replied.
"With freedom on the line, I don't suppose you'll argue," Gabriel replied.
"I'm an old man...I don't have anything waiting for me on the other side...freedom outside would be the same as in...I was thirteen when I got put in a cage. It's all I know. The world is a different place from what I remember it."
"It's a different world every day. Slowly and steadily," said Gabriel. He placed his hands on bars separate from the prisoner. A bold move, considering he was in choking distance now...but he, of course, had nothing to fear. "All I want to know is if there have been any strange occurrences in this prison since it underwent new management."
"Strange...," The prisoner repeated. "You mean since the new warden came in...He hasn't been around much lately...but he brought that doctor with him."
"Any unusual activity?" Gabriel pressed.
"They closed off solitary. Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining...but it's sure been strange...Late at night, I can hear things,"
Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "What things?"
"Strange...Solitary is in the old E Block...It's right down the hall," The prisoner pointed outside the bars towards the door on the first floor labeled "E" in bold black. Gabriel followed his finger and saw that the door was blocked off by several wooden planks. It had a very unwelcome feel to it, and one that hadn't been bothered for a long time.
Whatever Moore was guarding here...he hadn't visited it for a very long time. The Scripture...perhaps not so destroyed after all. He didn't know the exact details to what happened five years ago and he wasn't going to find out anytime soon. Everyone present seemed to have gone temporarily brain dead. That was the power of the Scripture. The true power, unshielded.
He offered the prisoner one more chance at freedom, but the prisoner refused, returning to his bed.
"Of all the prisoners that want freedom, you choose to stay," Gabriel shook his head. "Good luck to you."
"And to you...," The prisoner replied fleetingly, watching him go with hooded eyes.
He didn't know what he was expecting. Noise exploded all around him and he tuned it all out. People begging him to free them and Gabriel had no time. His senses stretched out unconsciously. He could feel Carmen's power, coming steady closer. It was only because she was coming closer that he could sense her presence. It was starting to become all but nonexistent. They were running out of time.
But he had to keep going. The Scripture...It was here. It was this he felt most...Only something this powerful could emit waves of power like this. He had never seen it before, never given the chance to hold it in his hands or even read the writing that was held so sacred by all of Heaven.
He didn't even feel Carmen coming up behind him, limped slightly from a labored walk.
"I am...so damn tired," said the demon, leaning against an empty cell for support. "I tell you. Killing people is not at all what it's been hyped up to be."
Gabriel didn't respond as she normally would expect him to. His gaze was fixed on the warded door.
"Aren't you going to thank me? I just busted my ass trying to make your distraction for you. And guess what? It was all for nothing," said Carmen bitterly.
Gabriel still didn't turn. But he did answer. That was something, if anything at all. " Is he? I'm not surprised anyone's dead when I leave it up to you...This door...It's protected by magic...but evidence suggests that this spell was not cast from the exterior but from the interior...Something is beyond this door, Carmen."
Carmen ignored the last part. "Oh yeah, Doctor's dead on my watch...but Crowley's still alive."
Like she thought he would, Gabriel looked her way at last. "Crowley? Crowley, you're sure it was Crowley? He was here?"
"Uh...yeah," said Carmen. "He's the mastermind. He got away."
Gabriel frowned. "What is he hiding here...?"
"It's not the Scripture, Gabriel," said Carmen, making him stare. "It's not here. Moore said it was destroyed. A long time ago. He said we came here for nothing."
"He said what he wanted you to hear, Carmen," said Gabriel, just like he said in the car. Just like for Walker. "There's something beyond this wall. Can you not feel it?"
"You know...I don't feel anything...but I wonder why that could be? Can we go? Or are you going to start worshipping the door now?"
"There's something behind here," He said yet again.
"Because every time you watch a horror movie, going into a door of unknown origin is always a good idea," said Carmen, rolling her eyes.
Gabriel scowled. "I"m going in. You want to follow, do so. If not, guard the door. Do not release the prisoners. As bored as you are, I doubt we would want the headlines to scream about prison escape,"
"Because a massive guard slaughter and no escaped prisoners is much more believable," said Carmen in the same tone, dripping sarcasm.
"Don't get smart," said Gabriel coldly. "I'm going in. Stay behind if you want."
"And if you die, the world will be a miiiighty stranger," said Carmen, emphasizing a layer of southern accent on her voice at the end of her sentence.
Gabriel didn't respond. Only scowled again just as she hopped right up next to him. When he looked over his shoulder, at this proximity, he saw her face was much paler than before. A fine sheet of sweat was starting to pour down the side of her face. It was an amazing feat to accomplish, even standing like she was. He wondered how she could stand it.
Bracing himself, Gabriel pushed past the wooden planks as though they were made of butter, as though they didn't exist at all.
He expected a cellar. A dark interior with nameless shapes lurking in the background. If Crowley was involved, surely he kept something sinister in store in a prison where no one would think to look.
He didn't expect trees. He didn't expect freshly cut grass. He didn't expect sunny skies in a beautiful array of clouds and a subtle breeze that worked well with the weather. He didn't expect the scent of forest to touch his nose and the distant sound of birds twittering in the branches.
And he didn't expect Hyperion.
The tallest tree he had ever beheld, standing taller than ever on a bright summer day. Realization hit him and he felt a sting in his heart when he felt it. He knew what this was, but he didn't want to say it. He didn't want to acknowledge what this was. Because he knew that naming it would make it real. Gabriel was used to pain in its worst form. Physical and mental. Twice he had gone through the worst emotional pain.
Seeing the one child he loved die in his arms and rise to become something else...then to let him die again in a much more permanent manner.
Carmen appeared beside him, holding her side as though in pain. Unlike Gabriel, she stared around in confusion. Her eyes went to the massive tree and above it until her neck cracked and she scowled, rubbing her back with a hard fist.
"What the hell? Did we just inception into someone's dream?" Carmen blurted without thinking. "Is this a fuckin' forest?"
Everything was bright. Too bright to be real. Because it wasn't real. He couldn't blame her for calling it a dream...But the rest of the forest seemed to fade into blurs of color and nothingness. This was all there was.
This was all there was left.
Piano music began to play. Slow...a sad, broken melody.
Gabriel was unmoved by her words. "Not a dream."
"Really, Leo? Then what is this?" Carmen asked, just as Gabriel stepped forward and began to approach the bottom of the tree. "Where are you going? Do you know this place?"
"Come on," Gabriel looked down, feeling a fissure of concentrated power run through his body until wings broke out from underneath the thin layer of his shirt and extend to their full length. Carmen stared, unimpressed, but she covered her face anyway just as he flew into the high branches. Carmen's eyes narrowed and she coughed a bit into a closed fist.
"Really..," She muttered, summoning up whatever Will she could spare to follow him.
But Gabriel had stopped right in the doorway of a large treehouse. Inside was something else...She wondered how this place was standing. By magic, no doubt. There was various items that looked typical for children. But it was the piano that shocked her, a full grand piano was sitting facing an open window to the north, displaying what should have been a fantastic view of the forest as a whole...but there was nothing there but the same blurred colors that were outside.
And there sat a small figure, playing the music. He was skilled, but his silhouette was leaned over the piano with one hand in his hair and the other pressing the keys in a deliberately slow and controlled manner.
"Who's...," Carmen began, but Gabriel had already began to take a few steps forward.
"Hello," The kid suddenly spoke, not stopping his slow play of the piano. His voice was subdued, small and fragile.
"Hey kiddo," Gabriel whispered.
" ' Kiddo'?...Gabriel, what's going on?" Carmen asked. "Who is this?"
The kid moved. Slid off the piano seat and turned to them at last and Carmen got a look at his face. Her breath caught in her throat and suddenly she was shaking. Not from the effects of Stigma this time.
His eyes...So bright and green.
Gabriel knelt down just as Dean approached.
"Who are you?" Dean's eyes fixed upon Gabriel with confusion.
"You don't know me?" Gabriel reached forward to touch Dean's face, cradle his cheek. Fear bubbled in him that he would break apart in front of him.
"I'm...I'm sorry," said Dean, looking down. "I'm just...I'm tired. I'm...I'm really tired."
"I know," said Gabriel. "I know."
"I've...been waiting...a long time...I...," Dean struggled, his face contorted and he backed away from Gabriel, covering his face between his hands. "I don't...I don't...remember what...I was waiting for."
There was silence as the boy began to weep. Gabriel watched, dropping his hand uselessly by his side. Nothing felt more right than to just hold him, to wipe away his sorrow. But it was not that easy...What if it all went away? What if he would never get this again?
Dean looked up, sniffing. "I'm sorry...My name...My name is...It's.."
"Your name is Dean," said Gabriel.
"Dean...Yeah...That's me," said Dean. Tranquility touched his eyes as he smiled. He took a step towards Gabriel again. "What's your name?"
"I don't understand," said Carmen, voice shaking just slightly. "Gabriel...What is this...Is this him? Is this really him?"
In answer, Gabriel captured Dean's face between his hands. His skin felt cold to the touch. "No. He's a fragment. A fragment of a soul long since dead. Only a truly powerful emotional attachment could break a soul. He's a reflection off a tombstone of the departed. Dean is dead...but I have let his death become mine as well."
"What are you talking about? How could you say that?..You weren't even there when he died...,"
Gabriel lip twitched. Dean's eyes closed as though he had begun to rest. Gabriel's voice broke. "I gave Dean the means to trap his Father into the ninth circle. I knew then it was the only way to truly save this world...I knew the consequences but I never...I never forgave myself."
"Gabriel..."
"It was my guilt that haunted me these past few years...Dean is dead...and I can never return him. Because it is not what he wants. He accepted his fate...and some part remained here. For...I...I don't know..."
Dean looked up, his bright green eyes suddenly burning with fierceness. His voice came out distorted as if several spoke with him at once. "It's not your fault."
Light momentarily took Dean's body before it expanded and took the form of a man blazing with white radiance. Dean's face was recognizable through it, instead of a face, Gabriel held Dean's outstretched hand as though it were his lifeline. Every part of Dean was obscured by light. Even the hand Gabriel had.
"Dean," Gabriel's voice was cracked with sadness. "Please."
"You have to let go, Gabriel. I don't belong here...My time is over," said Dean, still speaking in a voice that echoed. "All that keeps me here is you."
"No, Dean...If some part of you is still here...We can fix it. We can bring you back fully...Please just let me," It wasn't an Angel that cried before Dean, that sobbed like a child. They were built to emotionless creatures...yet so much pain came off Gabriel...it couldn't be that this was a being that never felt before. "I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry."
"I never blamed you. Not once. You came back for me. That's all that matters..but it's over now...You have to end it...My heart beats now only for you,"
"Dean...Please," Gabriel cried.
"I love you, Uncle Gabriel. I always will," said Dean, smiling as he ran his hand through Gabriel's hair and rested his fingers on the back of his head. "There are those who wish to change the course of life by bringing me back. But you knew. You always knew...You just said it. I accepted it...Now let me rest."
"Rest, Dean...You're in Hell. The rest of you is in Hell,"
"It's where I belong...It's where I was meant to be," said Dean softly. "My body is here...trapped by a madman with a purpose I cannot fathom from this prison. Destroy it...and I shall be no more."
"No, Dean...We can undo this...This whole mess. We can fix it. I owe you this much...I owe you so much more...but let me start here,"
"It has to be this way, Gabriel... I'm sorry," said Dean, his eyes warming with a calm that Carmen could not fathom. It was almost like he was at peace... "There is only favor I would ask of you...My child...My daughter." He looked towards Carmen, who met his gaze with a slightly dazed look. "Protect her. She is dying...and you must not let that happen. She is my only legacy. When you leave this room, she will have healed of the affliction the humans placed upon her. Leave. There are those who wish to harm her and you. Protect her. Protect yourself."
"Dean...,"
"It is all I would ask of you...," Dean began to fade, the room began to fade too, the tiny confines of the little tree house beginning to merge together in a blur of color.
Carmen shielded her eyes from it, watched as it all melted away and shaped into something different. It was a tiny room with stained grey tiles and a long dark ceiling with one set of bars showing the outside world. In the middle of the room was the body. Still and untouched as it had been when he died. The steady rise and fall of his chest was the only sign of life Carmen could see. He was still wearing the same clothes, the jacket, the black...just as she remembered him.
Gabriel's wings had not closed back in, they were extended. His clothes had changed to shining golden armor and his sword was in his hand as he held the body to his lap, cradling him. He was weeping, eyes bloodshot and full of despair.
He raised the sword, sobbing and plunged it into Dean's heart. Carmen, immobilized could have cried out, but her lungs produced no sound. The body jerked, and she saw his eyes open one final time, searching until they found Gabriel.
"Thank you...," Dean whispered before he closed them..He smiled before beginning to fade too, like the memory. A tiny glow of the soul that kept him here showed beneath Gabriel's sword before he broke apart and turned to ash at last.
Crowley reappeared outside of the prison shortly after his encounter with Carmen. He was still spewing venom and mutterings under his breath.
There was several police cars lined up and officers penetrating the front doors. Oh, they'd find a bloodbath all right. For once, Crowley couldn't take credit for it.
He watched them from afar, hiding in the shadows of the employee parking lot where the lights did not shine.
Well, now was a good time as any to give a status report.
Crowley pressed his fingers to his temple and focused. His mind was carefully clear as he tried to summon the Will to reach out to one another...and sure enough, another voice joined his inside his mind. Deep and foreboding...something out of a horror film.
"Our little stowaway was just here...Made quite a mess of things for someone who's about to die," Crowley muttered irritably out loud.
You have a knack for failure, Crowley.
"If I do, it's completely hereditary," said Crowley cheerfully.
Did they find it?
"Oh yes...All in all, it's a big disaster. Gabriel's here...Did you anticipate that?"
It's of little consequence, Crowley. We will retrieve it soon enough.
"Should I destroy the prison? Moore is dead and so are two hunters," said Crowley. He said he was truly reading a report. The demon was truly unconcerned of this information.
Destroy the prison, yes. But give the angel and girl some leeway to escape...It wouldn't be fun if everyone died so soon...
A pause.
What of the Scripture?
"I still have it,"
Excellent. Consult it when necessary. I will send word of my arrival...In the mean time, be patient. I'm unconcerned with Carmen but if Gabriel interferes again, let me know and I will take care of it...personally.
"As you wish..Dante."
Northern California, One Month After Attack on Manhattan
It was Dean's writing he read.
Dear Gabriel,
If you are reading this, then I am dead.
Your sentiment for me has been a weakness...and if I know you well, then you would only be here in Hyperion if you were to know that I had passed away. I do not know the means of my death, nor do I know the whys. More than likely it was for a cause that my people would label unworthy and futile.
I have spent a long time unaware of my memories as a human. My father saw to that rather quickly. Our last encounter, I told you I didn't remember you. It was a fleeting moment, as I'm sure you remember. The truth was, that I lied to you, Uncle. Our memories together are what have kept me going this last year. I remember your teachings. I remember your love. It may be arrogance to say that it was my memories of you that kept me human.
I was never meant to take this throne...It was thrust upon me without a choice. The truth is, I never wanted it. As you never wanted it for me. If I could go back, I would have went with you a thousand times rather than following this path. But it is done now and there is nothing we can do.
There are things that I know that others do not. Memories that will never be acknowledged by anyone other than me. It's a burden that I hate to bear...and one I hate to lie about.
But the devil was never truthful.
And I am He as he is me. There are no more words for me to tell you. Other than that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for lying to you. I'm sorry you had to choose me.
And I am sorry for what I am. In time, I'm sure you will learn that it was never a cause worthy. I suppose we are both fools for putting our lives at stake for such unimportant matters.
I only wish one day that you will forget me as I longed to forget you. Could you let me go after all this time and my deception of you? Maybe the question will remain unanswered. I certainly...will never know.
Your Nephew,
Dean
Gabriel crumpled the letter in his hand and breathed hard through his nose, pressing the letter to his lips. "Never."