Kansas - Ten Years After Attack on Manhattan
The dream seemed normal when it started. Sam was walking up the steps of a vast stage. His instructors were waiting for him as well as the principal. Diploma in hand. He could see his name written on the front in a bold Old English script, "Sam Costigan". He recognized this place. The chairs in front of the stage seated hundreds of students wearing white caps and white gowns, just like him. He knew this place. It was his high school graduation from two years back. He remembered the butterflies in his stomach, the cold he felt even though the weather was perfect outside and the AC was fine inside. Sam kept repeating to himself "It's time." over and over in a mantra. He had no need to be nervous.
But something had told him he was lucky to be here. He was lucky to make it this far. Sam aced all his classes with flying colors, was put into honor roll and advanced placement. Why shouldn't he have made it here? So what if it entailed piles of homework every night? It was worth it. It kept him occupied. Kept his mind away from distractions.
Though he sure did welcome a few distractions. His hazel eyes scanned the front row and found Jessica Moore looking up at him from the front row. Her hands were over her mouth and he could tell she was thinking the same thing he was. You made it. You did it. We did it. We did it together. Despite all the hardship...Despite the devastation of her father's death. Despite the fact that she had all but lost confidence in herself..he was there to pick her up. It was her day, not his.
Even his parents in the backrow of the audience in high seats snapping pictures of him didn't mean as much as the girl sitting there watching him with tears streaming down her eyes, clapping with the rest of them. She was the golden girl...the woman of his dreams and she always would be.
It was curious to relive this memory in his dreams. He had not thought about graduation in a long time. Not that he was complaining. It was good place to visit again...to take in and cherish all the more.
He approached the principal on stage with confidence. With a spring in his step. It was certainly different than the actual occurrence. Perhaps it was because Sam knew he was dreaming.
But even so, when the principal's face morphed, took shape into something else, he couldn't help the look of horror that must have appeared on his face. The wrinkles on an old face, the warm blue eyes changed into dark green, almost black. He found himself staring into the face of something else entirely. Inky black hair fell over his eyes fringed by deep dark lashes.
The voice that rumbled through his chest couldn't be human. Deep and demonic, burning through his mind so there was no escaping it.
"It's time."
He heard the crackle of fire. Heard the screams of the crowd, watched as the draperies blazed with flames and toppled onto the stage, saw the fire travel up and down the aisles as students and staff screamed in dismay. And all the while, Sam seemed frozen with fear.
Jess. Jess. Where was Jess?
Dread filled him to the core.
Sam had no control of this dream, he had no control of himself in this dream. His eyes darted to the morphed principal in front of him, and saw him watching Sam with a hungry expression. The form changed as Sam watched, took the form of another. Different hair style, similarly unkempt, paler skin, except the angle of his face was less sharp and his eyes were black.
He drew close, wrapped his arms around Sam in a way that felt too familiar...yet alien. His hand patted Sam's back once spoke in that same terribly low voice. Something burned on his spine like fire, and he instinctively lunged.
"Time to come home, Sam."
Sam woke with start, sitting up. He was covered in sweat even though the heat was barely heating up the cold room. Outside, the snow was blowing harder than ever, and yet Sam couldn't stop panting as though he had just finished running a marathon. He buried his face in his hands, vigorously rubbing sweat off his face and taking a handful of white shirt, unsticking it off skin and wiping at his brow until he felt a bit cleaner.
He blinked away the vivid images that still stained in his mind. His temples were throbbing. Weren't dreams supposed to fade over time? Very quickly? Then why could he still see those faces? There was something familiar about them...about both of them the more his mind lingered on the nightmare...and he truly didn't want to.
The clock read it was six am...but outside he couldn't tell. Usually the sky looked at least moderately light at six am. Was it daylights savings and he didn't know about it? Maybe it was really five? Stupid winter.
No...not daylights.
It wasn't the first time Sam had woken up for a nightmare...but not something so graphic. Walking into class without his pants seemed like a more fitting nightmare to fall into...Not this. Even now, he could feel himself shaking. He had to get a grip on himself. It was over. It was just a dream and it meant nothing. He shouldn't have let himself get all riled up for a nightmare.
But he was still shaken.
Sam picked up his cellphone off the nightstand. This was a simple apartment he lived in. All he could really afford with his part time job at the local grocery store as a cashier, but it would do. He was just very lucky he didn't have a car payment to worry about every month and that the University was down the street. He didn't even have money to spruce the place up...which was why he never invited Jessica. The living room was joined with a tiny kitchen that had room for one person at a time with the stove and sink facing each other and a slim walkway in between. The one bedroom was right in front of the front door which was only conveniently placed because this was a shitty neighborhood and people tended to get robbed at gunpoint on a regular.
Jessica had tried to convince him to move out and live in her dorm on campus...but he wasn't budging. While it was tempting to live in an all girls dormitory...He wasn't moving in with her... Not until he graduated. Besides, buying a new apartment wasn't the first item on his list that he wanted to buy...It may have been foolish to even think about going down that route at this time...but he couldn't imagine getting anything else.
He stared at the names on his contact list for a long time. Who was he hoping to call? Mom and Dad would probably freak out if he told them about his nightmare. Estelle had said that when he was younger he used to have strangely vivid dreams as well, and yet for the life of him, Sam couldn't remember a single one. But he wasn't about to go on a trip on memory lane with her. She got very tight-lipped when the subject came up...And it was only lucky that recent dreams were less gruesome, according to her.
Until tonight. Really, what made tonight so special? He could swear it was the nerves...To his immense satisfaction, the dream he felt was already starting to fade as he sat there. The sweat clinging to his body was already cooled by the cold temperature outside and his pathetic heating system. For once, he was thankful for it. It certainly made remembering the dream and the state he was in after much harder.
He had a horribly long timed essay to do in Literature today. He was sure the dream was merely telling him that it was time to get ready.
Right, that was it.
It's time. Time to come home, Sam.
He shivered. Okay, maybe it wasn't fading...He had to get his mind on other things. He didn't need to talk to anyone at six am without flipping them out...he just needed to get ready for school and focus on that. Sam slipped out of bed and went straight for the bathroom. Peeling off his clothes, he hopped in the shower with much haste. The hot water felt good, not only because it was cold outside, but because it relaxed him, took the dream right out of his mind as he focused on the day ahead.
Sam felt a sharp sting on his lower back. Instinctively, his hand went behind him to touch. Nothing felt out of place. But the ghost of the pain remained. He began to ignore it as it began to gradually slip away. He must have been tired.
He didn't note the black liquid mixing with the water running down his body. He didn't notice as it became slightly diluted but still dark as it swirled into the drain.
Sam cleaned himself up as best as he could, drying out his slightly long brown hair and slipping on jeans and a sweatshirt with his University logo on it. He flicked on the tiny TV as he passed it in the corner and just let the noise settle. When he wasn't chatting with Jess on the phone, this provided ample distraction...and kept his mind off the fact that he was a twenty-year old living by himself.
Lounging in front of the TV sounded good. He was procrastinating getting up and actually getting ready for the day. But he may as well. No way he was going to be able to sleep after all that. No way he was even going to try it.
The recliner screeched when Sam leaned back in it. Sam turned the volume down on the TV and dialed the first number he could think. The only one he knew by memory. In this day and age, that was some accomplishment considering the phone usually did the remembering for you.
Jessica picked up on the second ring. "Hello?"
"Hey," said Sam warmly. She didn't sound agitated or sleepy. A good sign. "I was just thinking about you."
"Thinking about me when you wake up? I like it," said Jessica.
She sounded busy in her kitchen...or somewhere. With some surprise, he heard students talking in the background. "Are you in the gym?"
"Sam," Jessica began disapprovingly. "I'm on student council. Of course. It's almost Christmas."
"So you have to slave around while everyone else gets to rest?" Sam said, making it a point to stretch out on the soft recliner till he heard the springs.
"You mean like you? I could use some help, Sam," said Jess. "You know...We have that big test today."
"Yeah, I'm thinking about sleeping in," Sam admitted. "Gives me a day, you know...go on make up day without Professor Stick-Up-His-Ass taking thirty points off for lateness."
"You're taking the day off?" Jess asked, pausing in whatever she was doing. It went quiet. Definitely too quiet for a gym. "Come on, Sam. I want you to see my decorations so far. You would hardly recognize that this is a gym."
"Just that mascot symbol in the middle, right?" Sam laughed. He fiddled around with a hole in the recliner. "I don't know, Jess. I'm not feeling so hot...I had a bad dream."
Jess was walking now. Probably to find a more private area, he could hear her heels striding across the linoleum. " What did you dream about? Do you want to talk about it? I can take a break."
"Technically school hasn't even started yet, so you're already supposed to be on break," Sam pointed out. He sat up in his recliner and placed his elbows on his knees. "I don't know, Jess. It's hard to explain. It was really...kind of vivid for a dream, you know?"
"Maybe it was a nightmare?"
It felt so damned real. How can I call it that? Sam thought to himself. "I don't know. Just might come in late...I gotta work after class anyway. Might as well try to make the day feel better by skiving off a few classes."
"Don't be lazy," Jess scolded. But they both knew he rarely cut class. If he did, it was one or two here and there, and he had to be really sick...which he never was. He just may or may not have faked it a few times just to get out of a test...like this one.
"I'm not lazy...Just being proactive," Sam laughed. "All right, Jess. I'll let you go. I'll see you maybe after history."
"Promise?" Jess prompted in the sweetest voice she could manage.
Sam couldn't help but chuckle. She was too adorable. "Promise. I'll be there. Just let me catch a few more z's."
Jess was quiet for the longest time. "All right. I love you."
"I love you too," said Sam, sighing. "I'll see you soon, all right?"
"Bye Sam," Jess hung up.
"Very wise, Sam. I take it that means she won't be looking for you any time soon," said a voice that made Sam jump out of his seat and nearly fall out of the recliner. He turned around to see a cloud of tobacco smoke obscuring his view of a black figure leaning against the kitchen wall counter, just in what could be his line of sight.
"What the hell?!" Sam yelled, scrambling around for something. Phone, caught it off his lap.
The figure stepped forward. Female. Gorgeous. Long, curled blonde hair slightly touched with dark hi-lights. Short black dress, accenting smooth long legs and a long v neck with matching silver buckled boots. She couldn't be older than eighteen or nineteen. Her face was glossed with make up and her eyes were shaded with thick black liner or so it looked. Those eyes were large and green, sharp as she gazed upon Sam. It felt probing to be looked on by her.
"Who the hell are you? Did you..? Did you just break into my house?" said Sam incredulously.
"Break in?" She quirked a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "I practically live here."
And without further ado, the stranger spun around and slipped into the tiny kitchen with practiced grace. As if to prove what she had said, she opened Sam's refrigerator and peeked inside.
Sam whirled on her, darting for where she had just stood, eyes intent on her. "Get out. I'm serious. Get the hell out or I'm calling the police."
"You have nothing. Tell me you're eating properly," She glanced his way. "Not with that body, you're not...You have a goldfish anywhere?"
"I mean it," Sam opened up his dial pad on the phone and pressed a thumb threateningly over the "9" button. "You got five seconds to get out and beg somewhere else."
"Beg," She repeated, closing his fridge door and walking deliberately slow towards him, one step at a time. Each time she did, he backed up, until he hit one of the kitchen chairs. Her gaze never left his face, yet her expression was carefully neutral. Her tone came out soft. "You honestly don't remember anything about me do you, Sam?"
Surprise crossed his features. "How do you know my name?"
"I know everything about you, Sam Costigan. I've invested ten years of my life keeping you alive and well and safe from everything you seem to have forgotten about," She answered. Something crossed her features. Hurt? "And you don't even know my name, do you?"
He stared at her. Trust him to get the crazy lunatic burglar in the morning. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"My name is Carmen, Sam," said Carmen. "I'm a demon. "
"You're a what-?!" Maybe not crazy. Psychopath? Her voice was so calm, so sure. That was the definition of insanity, wasn't it? Insane people didn't know they were insane.
"I'm a demon," She repeated, same tone. "And you need to come with me. You're in a lot of danger. Trust me, I wouldn't show you my face if you weren't."
"There's no such thing as demons. You're insane and you need to get out before I-"
"I will break your fucking phone. Put it down," Carmen interrupted irritably. "On the kitchen table. Now."
"I-" Sam began.
"Now," No arguments. She took another step...and he could have sworn it was his imagination but something blazed in her eyes.
Cooperate. Cooperate. She could be a serial killer. Slowly he raised his hands in surrender and backed up a little more to set the cellphone on the table, facing down. She gave a faint smile before walking past him, her head turning slow in each direction as though she was searching.
"Listen if it's money you want...My wallet's on the bedside table,"
"I'm a demon, Sam. I don't care about money. I don't care about the twenty-one fifty you have in your wallet up until your next check," said Carmen, turning back to him. "I care about you. I care about your survival. If you're going to make it through the night, you have to follow my every instruction."
"Right...," said Sam slowly.
"You don't believe me," said Carmen, shrugging one shoulder. "Fine."
At first he thought she was leaving and he almost breathed a sigh of relief. But she took two steps towards him. until they were less than a foot apart. For some reason, the room suddenly felt hot. She was looking at him intently as if concentrating very hard.
"Put your hand on my shoulder," Carmen ordered.
"Do what?"
"Put your hand on my shoulder," She repeated more slowly. "Now. You need to see something."
"I don't think-"
"Just do it, Sam," said Carmen exasperatedly. "You want proof? You're never going to learn to accept anything until you see it with your own eyes. Now put your hand on my shoulder."
Sam swallowed a lump in his throat and stared at her. Maybe he was still dreaming. She was probably crazy though and he couldn't imagine why his mind was conjuring up this. He had never seen her before...and it seemed impossible to create someone out of your imagination...And yet her eyes were so green and intense, there was something about them that compelled him to do as she said.
Instead of reaching to her, he pinched his arm. Carmen's gaze shot down to what he was doing and she scoffed. "You're not dreaming, Sam. Now stop playing around."
Hesitantly, Sam raised one hand, licking his lips because everything inside his mouth went dry. His heart started hammering for some unknown reason. He just shook his head of the jumbled thoughts and gripped down on her shoulder.
Sam squeezed instinctively when he saw it just for that brief second. Her eyes, unnaturally bright rimmed with scarlet, the whites disappearing between taut blood vessels. Sam released her a moment later and backed away. "What...What is that? What...are you?"
"It's my natural instinct to kill you," said Carmen, blinking, her eyes returning to normal. "Demons have a natural aversion to mankind. To kill. "
"No...That's not real...I'm dreaming. I swear I'm dreaming. It's all in my head," Sam chanted. "It's in my head. It's in my head."
Carmen tilted her head and crossed her arms. "Now you sound like Doctor Walker."
Sam looked up, surfacing out of his internal mayhem. "What? What did you just say?"
"Doctor Walker. Your childhood psychiatrist," Carmen's lip twitched in a knowing manner. "You didn't think I'd know that one, did you? He left you when you were very young. Went missing in Lawrence. Truth is, he's dead. Has been for a while. You never cared to look into it because you don't remember the treatment you were given. All you know is what your parents told you. That you needed help sleeping and Walker treated you."
Sam struggled to speak. "How...How did you know that?" She took a step closer, and Sam shot out a hand. "Don't come any closer!"
"I've been watching you for over ten years, Sammy. You honestly think if I wanted to kill you, you'd be standing there? I have had plenty of opportunities," said Carmen conversationally as if talk of murder was something to be discussed often in daily life.
"I don't know if I...I don't-"
"You don't have to believe me," Carmen snapped. "You have to get the fuck out of dodge. We don't have time for this. You either follow me or stay here and die. There is an extremely powerful demon out for your blood. Believe me, I wouldn't make a cameo if I knew otherwise."
Before he could say a word, she strode past him to the door. "Now, Sam. Or I will carry you piggyback and put you in my trunk. Get what you need. What you can't live without."
Manhattan
Ten years ago today, this city was nothing but ashes. Almost eight million lives were lost in the final battle. While the official news report said that people simply went missing, just left of their own accord, a few people on the planet knew the truth. There was no migration out of America's most populous city. For what reason could there possibly be for migration?
No, they were all killed. Every single one. Lucifer sired the entire city in a fit of rage. Almost eight million people walked the earth now as demon if they hadn't gotten themselves killed already.
Humans had been rebuilding New York from the ground up. They had made impressive progress, but nothing could speed up the construction of sky scrapers. It looked better...but not by much.
When Gabriel walked through the streets, he found himself in a dead land. Reconstruction had halted for the upcoming weekend...and he couldn't blame the workers for it. They worked day and night on this city.
But it was unfortunate everyone was unaware of the new arrival. For the past seven years, Gabriel had been searching for Crowley. Ever since he knew the demon was responsible for everything. The disease that killed demons, the imprisonment of a soul fragment that he had no right to...among other crimes. One thing was for sure, Crowley had a keen interest in Sam Costigan. Why? No one knew. As Gabriel had told Carmen a long time ago, Sam was human. Or so it seemed. He detected nothing from him after Lucifer's power had left him...he had expressed concern before to Carmen about his time as a vessel but why did Crowley care?
He had placed a tracking spell on Crowley's sword to notify him if the demon walked on the mortal plane. But Crowley had been smart and not much had happened since the incident in California. He didn't show his face. The tracking spell that Gabriel placed did not extend to Hell and Crowley had spent most of his time there. What he was doing, why he was doing it, who knew? Gabriel would have told Carmen to go investigate, but he kept his promise. He had to protect her. And besides, it was too risky to have her walk through enemy lines again. Crowley would relish the opportunity to put her back down in a torture chamber for all eternity. Gabriel wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
He had finally showed his face back here and Gabriel was the first to know. His sword turned green, a resonance reaction to the spell he had placed on Crowley. And he tracked him here of all places. Manhattan, why? What was in Manhattan that called the demons' attention? Hadn't this city been through enough by his kind? What could he possibly need from here?
Crowley showed no sign of worry or concern as he walked through the street, passing over dented concrete, over destroyed lamp posts and dented cars. Not everything had been cleaned up since the attack. But nothing had been claimed. Why weren't all humans aware of demons again? It was almost too obvious. Only the funny little magazines that spewed exaggeration thought it was an alien invasion. That seemed more plausible then an earthquake that had everyone evacuated.
Gabriel stayed atop the roof tops, tracking Crowley slowly. He kept his power low so he wouldn't be traceable himself. There was significance indeed tonight if Crowley was coming out of hiding. Of course this night was special. For angels and demons alike. This was the night that Michael and Dean had both died. The leaders of both sides, leaving a devastating hole in the infrastructure of both realms.
He stopped himself in the largest crater near Grand Central station and Gabriel crouched low, watching him. Crowley was right at the site of where Lucifer's spell broke and a tower of rock broke apart and vanished in pieces. That didn't mean the crater still wasn't there. And yet even though right below this place was Hell's first circle, the hole leading down into that realm had long since closed. The crater was just what it was. A crater. A hollow basin with only cracking running along the sides.
But Crowley was walking right towards it. Why?
Gabriel watched him closely. Watched as Crowley stood directly in the middle of the crater and hovered a careful hand over the center as if feeling for something. For what? The Will that was once here had been depleted. There was nothing here. There should have been nothing here.
He seemed to share his exasperation. With a sigh, Crowley reached inside his coat pocket and pulled something out. From this distance, Gabriel couldn't identify what exactly it was. Looked kind of like a piece of paper. No...he pressed his nose into the paper as if he couldn't read the lettering on it.
With a sudden realization, Gabriel knew that was the Scripture. There was no doubt. It wasn't in the Prison. He was tracking Crowley for this very reason...he just didn't expect the demon would pull it out so easily without wariness of attack.
It was now or never. Gabriel hopped down from the building roof soundlessly, landing behind a downed red car just out of Crowley's line of sight. It was then that he pressed two fingers to his forehead and formed a Link to Carmen as quick as he could.
"Carmen," Gabriel hissed out loud. "I have Crowley. He's right here. I'm closing in on him now...What's your situation?"
There was a long pause and he wondered if she even got the message. The air was thick with humidity and very light, misty fog, yet this Link wasn't weak, there shouldn't have been interference. Not unless this weather was controlled by Will which was...unlikely.
Finally, he heard from her.
I have Sam. Took a minute to convince him but I'm trying to explain this situation to him as best as I can.
"Is he safe? Where are you taking him? Any sign of the enemy?"
He's safe...No idea where to take him yet. Crowley's with you, you said? Just keep him there and I get the kid back home. Might need your help performing a memory spell. He's not taking this well.
Before Gabriel could respond to that, Crowley abruptly turned in his direction, pocketing the Scripture as though it was a rag.
"You can come out, Gabriel. I've been expecting you," said Crowley in a very audible tone that implied he heard every part of his conversation as little as Gabriel had said.
Gabriel stood up and walked over, side stepping protruding metal and scattered debris. When he got to the edge of the crater, he looked down on Crowley with a frown on his face. "Give me the Scripture, Crowley. This doesn't have to be drawn out. You know it doesn't belong to you."
Crowley chuckled, looking at him with slanted eyes. " The Scripture holds merely a shadow of it's former power, Gabriel. I could give it to you...but I'm under orders to inconvenience you as much as possible...so complying would be counterproductive, wouldn't it?"
"Orders?" Gabriel repeated, beginning to walk the edge of the crater. "Am I hearing this right, Crowley? You're not working alone, are you? I figured as much. A demon can hardly tie its own shoes let alone fragment another demons soul."
Crowley was not offended. "I didn't fragment his soul. He fragmented his own soul. So quick to blame others, Gabriel. If anything, you should blame yourself."
Gabriel's eyes tightened. "The Scripture, Crowley. Don't let this get ugly."
"This is a special night, Gabriel. You should be celebrating in the streets as the rest of my kind will be doing soon enough...Instead you're here. Following me...What did you hope to achieve, tracking my every movement?"
Gabriel glowered. "What do you think? You think I'm dense, Crowley? I know you walked away with the Scripture seven years ago. The only reason I did not follow you into Hell was the tre-"
"The treaty," Crowley laughed. "Right. I forgot about that. Oh yes, walking into Hell and making demands of the sovereign is a surefire way of getting yourself killed. But you're used to being at the mercy of Hell's royalty, aren't you Gabriel? Maybe I would have complied, had you only asked nicely. Don't think me a fool, Gabriel. You didn't come into the first circle to get this Scripture because of that little liability you've been carrying around. Tell me, does being the bitch's caretaker make you feel better? Does it satisfy that hole in your heart where he once was?"
A muscle twitched in Gabriel's jaw and he clenched his teeth very tightly together as rage coiled in him like a snake. "She has nothing to do with this."
"She has everything to do with this, Gabriel," Crowley replied, his body turning in sync with Gabriel's little half circle. "The treaty has nothing to do with this. You've haven't been loyal to Heaven in a long time. The treaty does not apply to you. Seven years of training a brat to fight means nothing. You have no idea what you've walked into."
"And what of you, Crowley? What is your plan with this Scripture? What was capturing the soul fragment and imprisoning it going to do? And what business do you have in this broken city?"
"Like I said. It's a special night, Archangel. It's sacred for both of us. The night your General left you and our king left us. Ten years down to the very day," Crowley mused. "Or have you forgotten already? Has time slipped away the more you spend with her? Do you love her, Gabriel? It wouldn't be the first time an angel fell for one of us...I'm starting to think we're simply irresistible to your kind."
Crowley was evading. And the deliverance of his speech was strange, like he was buying time. Taunting Gabriel wasn't wise. Surely he knew that, even with the Scripture in hand. And yet Gabriel could sense no extraordinary power coming from the Scripture...A fake?
Gabriel stepped down towards him, careful not to slip as he did. Already, he summoned as much Will as he could to him, hoping to shape his armor back for battle...Yet it didn't come. Usually the heavenly armor appeared when he prepared for battle at the simplest call. And yet it didn't. His simple human clothes remained, leaving him in vulnerable in every area. How was that so? He tried again, this time reaching towards his waist where surely his sword would appear.
But it never did.
Crowley watched with sparkling amusement in his eyes. "Can't get it up, can you, Celestial? I wouldn't bother. This Scripture bends the laws of your power at my command. Fascinating isn't it? How powerful a simple piece of paper in the eyes of man can be? But it was never just a piece of paper, as you well know. "
He drew it out then and despite the building tension Gabriel felt, his eyes drew to it. In Crowley's hands it looked much different than he expected. The Scripture of legend was said to be an extraordinary sight. It was made of Will itself. It was said to be an artifact felt from great distances by any Will users. Angels were drawn to it. Even demons were drawn to it, because it was the essence of all things in this world...That was the legend.
And yet the thing Crowley drew out, hardly fit that description. From here, he could see faint lettering in old black letters...a language that was indecipherable even for Gabriel. It looked like it had been washed up in the gutter and dried out. It didn't look like anything he imagined.
"Give it to me," Gabriel ordered. "Now. That is Heaven's Scripture. Not yours. Not Hell's. Ours. "
"Debatable," said Crowley dismissively. "Besides, Gabriel. You have no place to put this. You have no loyalty to Heaven, like I said. The one being you've stuck yourself with is dead. And you know what they say about dead alliances."
Gabriel took a few steps closer, towering over Crowley. "What's that?"
A slow smile spread across Crowley's face until he looked like a madman, grinning from ear to ear. His gaze shifted beyond Gabriel, yet the Archangel's eyes were so intent on the Scripture in his hands, he didn't notice. He watched the letters on it begin to move, fumes of black vapor rising from it.
Gabriel felt a sharp sting in his back and the sudden icy feeling of a blade being pressed into his lower back. He felt his shirt wet with warm blood, slip down his body with a tingling sensation. His chest thrust forward and Gabriel's eyes shot down to watch blood blossom around the protruding sword. Without warning, the blade was wrenched and the pressure released. Gabriel's legs gave way and he collapsed to his knees in front of Crowley, hands clasping the gaping wound.
"They're fucking useless," The cold chill of his voice made Gabriel shudder and not from the pain. His face paled as the stranger walked in front of him, standing right next to Crowley.
Labored breaths left Gabriel as he eyed Dante all the way up to cold black eyes.
"Dante," Gabriel panted. "It's impossible...You...You were banished to the ninth circle."
Dante smiled, the same way Crowley did, eyes slanted and arrogance brimming off him in waves. The sword in his hand shone with blood dripping down the tip. Gabriel should have seen this from the moment he laid eyes on Crowley. Crowley was his demon. Dante had created him. He wasn't wrong before. Crowley hadn't been working alone. He had never been working alone since the very beginning. Crowley was only sovereign because Dante had put him there The bond between the parent and his demon was unbreakable. The resemblance between the two was striking, standing next to each other like so.
"Quite a tale to tell, that," said Dante in that same detached tone. "But for another time and for another being, I wager. Preferably, not someone bleeding out in front of me."
"What are you doing, Dante...? Why are you doing this?" Gabriel's grip on his wound became a lifeline, yet the blood began to slip through his knuckles. Even now, the two of them were becoming blurs of black with each passing blink.
"Fulfilling my destiny, Gabriel. It's not complicated. You almost fucked me over, you know, freeing that fragment and sending it back...I'm not bothered, though. Everything is proceeding accordingly...Including you, here and now," said Dante. "There is no stopping what's coming tonight. Our old friend managed to give us a setbacks too before his departure...but nothing we can't handle. Tonight, Treachery will be open once more for business."
"Why...Dante?..There's nothing there. It's an abyss,"
"Don't talk about what you don't know, Gabriel," Dante spat sharply. " I have not spent the last ten years of my existence passing through each circle one by one for you to fuck me over now."
"You never needed to pass through anything when you were already a treacherous scum...You didn't need to pass...," Realization hit Gabriel like a crashing wave and he felt himself freeze with shock. "...You...Dante, what have you done?"
Dante laughed. "Smarter than you look, Gabriel. I would have thought the King's death would kill your sentiment but it only seemed to strengthen it. Castiel and you are very similar in that aspect. It's kind of interesting how opposite you are in motive, however. Whereas he's willing to sacrifice everything to save him, you're willing to sacrifice everything to stop me."
"Dean does not belong on this realm anymore, Dante!" Gabriel growled. "What have you done?! What have you done to Castiel?!"
"I fixed him," said Dante, looking insulted. "I freed him from his pain."
"You...," Gabriel struggled for words. The world spun around him, and he looked down despite himself. Already his body had begun to light. Will trying to repair the wound but being unable to do so. He was as good as a mortal man.
"Hush now, Gabriel," Dante whispered, coming close and kneeling in front of him, taking the Archangel by his shoulders, the hilt of his sword pressed flat against Gabriel and his palm. It was the most bizarre moment. Looking into Dante's icy gaze, he saw something flash like real sympathy. "It's over. The final test must be done for this to go right. It's a pity you can't be there. I almost want you to be."
It took an enormous strength just to focus on him, and when he did, he managed the smallest of smiles himself. "And I wish I could be there when he kills you...because I know he will."
Dante's perfect mask of care and regret faded almost instantly. His expression melted into something ugly, uncharacteristic for one so beautiful. His face contorted in fury before he twisted his sword around and decapitated the Archangel in a single stroke.
Gabriel's entire body took on a bright green light, the Will and Grace melding onto Dante, swirling until settled inside of him and all that was left of Gabriel was the headless body, blood gushing from its neck in spurts. Dante watched for a moment before Gabriel's corpse began to fade into a whirlwind of white feathers, dispersing into the currents of the wind.
Dante broke his gaze away and turned his head towards Crowley, palm extended. "Did you get it?"
"Yes," said Crowley, passing off something silver into his hand.
Dante looked upon it. A sword hilt with a tiny golden shard of what once was a blade, striped silver with rubies and emeralds glinting in a pattern all the way around. He turned it over in his hands before placing it in his coat pocket.
"What of Castiel?" Crowley asked.
"He'll play his part beautifully. Of that, I'm sure,"
Kansas
Something about not wanting to attract attention. Sam didn't know what made him do it. What made him follow her the moment she walked out. The dream was one thing but then seeing it and then realizing you weren't dreaming at all was another ordeal altogether. But something about her made him believe her. The words about danger and something coming.
Plus she knew things. Doctor Walker? Stalker maybe but for this long?
There was something about her too...It was the way she spoke that sounded like she was telling the truth. Something was wrong all right. Demons...fine. His parents preached about demons from the bible often enough in his youth. It was kind of hard to believe she, a demon, was protecting him in hindsight.
But his dream became more apparent...more real to him as he thought about it. And somehow her words seemed to click into place.
He wasn't even paying much attention as he grabbed his phone and followed her out. He was intrigued, to say the least. And he needed some answers. Sam barely paid attention when she mentioned something about not being able to use a guy named Will properly so they couldn't jump. That didn't make much sense. Maybe she was something...not human..but that didn't make her sane.
They were outside and Sam was startled by the change in weather. It was winter, yes, but the air was not as chilly as it had been consistently the past few days. There was a dense fog and the son was blotted out by thick gray clouds that steadily swirled. A storm was coming. In the distance, he saw flashes of lightning.
Carmen led him to a large black jeep parked outside his apartment and climbed into the driver seat.
"Who's Will?" Sam asked as he got in the passenger side.
"Will is not a person. It's a component," said Carmen. When he just stared at her, she sighed and started up the engine. "It's a component to use elements of any type...You might call it magic. I'm not going to make a jump here because it's too risky and the skies are unsafe."
"Right," said Sam. "So you're magic?"
Carmen rolled her eyes and pulled out of the parking spot. "No. I'm not magic. I'm a demon, I told you. Look, I understand it's a lot to comprehend for you right now. But you have to trust me. I'm trying to save your life."
"Where are you taking me?"
"Just somewhere to lay low for a day or two. Just until this blows over. My accomplice told me he's closing in on the guy who's coming for you, so we shouldn't have anything to worry about," said Carmen.
"I don't understand," said Sam. "If he's after me, why is he coming now? I mean...Why hasn't he come before? Hasn't...this...demon...had plenty of opportunity?"
"He's been hiding," Carmen explained. "Only now has he actually made a move. We placed a tracking spell on him and he's come back to this realm. He's watched you before, and I don't know why. But if he's back now, then he probably wants something from you. Trust me, when a demon wants something from you, it's never really a good thing."
"And what about you?" Sam asked pointedly.
"Me? I told you. I'm protecting you. I have been for a very long time. And my God, you have a boring life. Jesus, I don't know how you live like you do and not want to kill yourself. No offense or anything," said Carmen, shaking her head.
"Thanks," said Sam sarcastically. "Why have you been watching me and not...telling me sooner?"
"As boring as your life is, I'd hate to spicen it up with 'Hey, I'm a demon and I like watching your house and school so you come and go to each safely every day'," Carmen answered, turning off the city street and heading into a less suburban neighborhood. "You have memories, Sam. Memories that have been taken away from you because you needed to be protected from all this...It's a poor excuse but I'm sure the guy who did it knew what he was doing."
"Memories? Memories of what?" Sam asked, startled at the prospect. As far as he knew, he remembered his life from the moment of awareness to now.
Carmen expelled a breath and Sam felt the temperature in the car rise a few degrees like she had released a dragon's sigh. "It's not my place to say what you don't remember."
"Please," Sam pleaded. "If what you're saying is true...I mean...It's all crazy and...just impossible...but if it's true, just tell me what it is."
Carmen closed her eyes very briefly. She hesitated for a second and he thought she wasn't going to tell him. She certainly was the one in control of the situation after all. "There was a man once. His name was Dean. Does that name mean anything to you?"
She looked right at him for a change in his expression but he shook his head and shrugged. "No?"
"It's hard to explain but he...he walked in your life and changed everything...and you did too. You just really literally walked in eachother's life. He loved you. You loved him. But he's dead now," Her voice hardened and one hand clutching the steering wheel tightened until veins became taut near her knuckles. "Some things happened...I can't really tell you, Sam...As fucked up as it is, I don't want you to remember all this."
"Why not?"
"Because it's fucking painful," said Carmen. And he wasn't sure she was talking about the matter of telling him, it was simply the matter of recalling it. This...Dean or whomever must have meant something to her too.
"You loved him too, didn't you?" Sam guessed.
"It wasn't like that," She said seriously.
"Then why can't you-?"
"It's not something pleasant to bring about, Sam," said Carmen sharply. "Look, it doesn't matter. All you gotta do is follow me until this is over and then I'll take you home, okay? Back to your homely life with Mom and Dad, back to school with your little girlfriend, okay? Just cooperate with me here, okay?"
Sam looked out the window, watched the passing cars and street signs with a slightly dazed look. "I don't even know what's going on."
She bit her lip. She didn't respond to that. She just kept driving. Sam had a feeling she was waiting for something. She mentioned an accomplice. Perhaps a message that things were going well? That whomever was coming after him was going to be killed? He felt sick to his stomach and his head was spinning. How was all this real? He pinched himself on the arm again. Demons? Really? Demons existed on the planet?
He looked up. She was watching him with a wry smile.
"I'm taking you to a motel. I-" She broke off suddenly, her face twisting as though she was in pain. One minute both her hands were on the steering wheel, the next minuted she crumpled, clutching her head. Sam grabbed for the steering wheel.
"What the hell?! Are you..." His eyes darted from the road to her. "Are you okay?! What's wrong?!"
Her fingers passed over her eyes and he could see that same effect she had showed him pass over her again. The sign of the demon. Now he couldn't be imagining it, leaned over like this, at close proximity. He could practically feel the heat coming off her body even though he made no attempt to touch her.
But she touched him, knocking his hands aside and taking the steering wheel once she had returned to a more normal state. He could still see her face was pinched in pain. She blinked rapidly and sped up.
"We have to get out of here," Was all she said. She didn't say a word for the rest of the trip. Twice, Sam asked her what was wrong, and she responded with a shake of her head, one more annoyed than the last. He tried to observe her inconspicuously but Carmen's eyes were guarded, her entire posture rigid with tension and could it possibly be fear?
Carmen stopped at a motel six. She ordered Sam to wait in the car while she got them a room. Something about being more convincing. He didn't see how anyone could not be convincing to anyone-male or female- with that kind of attire on.
But the moment she was out of sight, Sam drew out his cellphone and picked out the number frantically. He kept eyes on Carmen's retreating figure as he pressed it to his ear. Ringing...ringing...but no answer.
Finally it went to voicemail and Sam sighed a long breath into the message. "Mom. I just...I just wanted to check up on you. Something weird is happening...and I can't really explain it. Just...call or text me as soon as you get this. I just need...to hear your voice, I guess. Anyway, I look forward to hearing from you."
Sam quickly hit the end call button when he saw Carmen coming back, a key dangling between her fingers. She wasn't looking at Sam, thank God. She stopped just beside Sam's window, rapping on it with her nails to catch his attention.
"Got us a room. Room 303. Come on. We need to move," said Carmen shortly, opening his door for him. "Follow me."
He did as he was told, walking out with her. When they walked into the room, she immediately went for the curtains, drawing them shut. It was a one bedroom, simple and cheap. Sam ran a hand through his hair and watched as Carmen stood in the doorway, just watching him.
"So what's the plan? Just stand around and wait for everything to mull over? Am I prisoner? Can I at least call-"
"No," Carmen interrupted. "Crowley. The demon after you.. has most likely put guards up at any location where he thinks you might show up."
"But I just want to call Jess real quick. I just want to see how she is," Sam implored.
Carmen nodded towards the dusty television set facing the bedroom. "Best way to keep up with the buzz is to watch television. You see any headline on your local channels about school massacre, you know something's happened."
"But you wouldn't let me go if that was the case, would you?"
Carmen sighed. "Sam, look-"
"So I am a prisoner," Sam nodded to himself. 'I need to use the restroom. Can I do that, at least?"
She looked slightly offended. But if she had something to say, she restrained it. Which seemed like an amazing feat for someone with no filter on their words. Instead, Carmen just pointed to the door behind him leading into an unimpressive setup for a bathroom. He nodded his exasperated thanks to her with a slight edge to the gesture to show his impatience before walking inside and closing the door behind him.
As soon as Sam was alone, he considered many things. The first one was calling the home number instead of Mom's cellphone. The second was calling Dad and hearing him bitch about Sam's hallucinations. That's how low on superstition Dad was. He didn't believe in anything out of the ordinary unless it was dancing in front of him, much like Sam. And Sam wasn't planning on parading Carmen in front of him with demon eyes any time soon.
The third most prominent idea was to call Jess like he planned. He had talked her to not one hour ago, and he was positive she was fine...but she was expecting him coming in today, albeit later. What could he say if he went missing for the whole day, or a bunch of days? And he honestly could not put it past Carmen to just break his phone when she caught him on it. There was no explaining this to her though.
Hey Jess. Just running off with this stunningly attractive girl for a few days. Don't wait up for me in class.
He was never a good liar, even when it counted. He had to think of something.
Something dripped in the bathroom and he was distracted for a moment by his surroundings. Cheap motel couldn't even fix their plumbing before handing off the room to someone else. He closed a hand around the faucet to the sink.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The faucet wasn't broken. Sam quirked a brow and stepped back to examine it with some distance. Maybe he missed it? His foot nearly slipped on something and his gaze shot down.
A tiny puddle of black was forming underneath him. Sam suppressed a surprised cry, backing further away until he hit the closed door and felt it. Warm wetness touch the back of his shirt from the sudden pressure against the solid stretch of wall. Staring only at himself in the mirror, Sam reached behind him, touched the wetness for himself and grabbed a handful of it. Blood?
He balled the shirt up in his hand and pulled it over his head. Holding his sweatshirt out in front of him, he saw a fresh stain of black form on the back. Not blood. Raising his head back to his reflection, Sam met his own horrified gaze for a split second before turning around and looking over his shoulder. What he saw there almost made him cry out again.
It was a cut. Or that's what it looked like. A long stem of black cut into his skin with black ink creating two branches of ink that ran up his shoulder blades. It looked like a cracked "Y" that had been mutilated almost to a point beyond recognition. As he stared at it, the mark pulsed with more black ink and gushed from the middle of the stem, darkening the design some more as it dried seconds later.
He had to tell Carmen about this. She would know what this was. How could he not have felt it? Well, it was painless. It didn't even itch. How the hell did he get it? When the hell did he get it?
Sam, still facing the door, began to turn the knob and crack the door open when he heard her talking already.
"...need your help. You haven't been responding to me...You told me not to sever the Link. You're lucky we're not Bonded or whatever happened might have been extremely bad in both of our cases. I honestly hope you're all right, Gabriel. This situation is more complicated than I expected it to be."
Who was she talking to? He didn't see her pull out a phone. Did demons even need cellphones to talk to each other?
"But wherever you are, I hope you can hear me. My influence isn't working on Sam. I think you were right. He's not human...Whatever was left over from the vessel stage is still there. I'm going to keep him here tonight. If you're hearing me, just know that I'm still in Lawrence and I'm waiting for you at the motel six on grove street, all right?"
Influence?
Not human.
Vessel Stage.
Sam had heard enough. Between the symbol on his back and her spewing...lies. Influence him. What did she mean by that...Did that mean she had tried to hypnotize him? Screw with his head? It wasn't working because she thought he wasn't human.
It was enough to want to get out of this mess. To need to get out of it. He had to go home. No, he had to get out of here. But he couldn't just walk out the front door, she probably didn't sleep. She probably wouldn't even sleep until she was positive he was and taking a bet on the off chance that he might wake up before she did was not something he wanted to delve in.
His eyes snapped onto the air vent above the shower. It was large enough for a person only because people had been inside to repair and build it. He turned on the faucet to max, turned the knob behind the toilet so that water began to fill in the back and produce a loud sound to derail her from hearing him. Sam slipped the sweatshirt back on. It was all he had...and it wasn't likely he'd find something else. Besides, the shirt would help with what he was about to do. Quiet as he could, Sam stepped precariously on eitherside of the motel tub and began to open the vent.
It took several tries, unscrewing the nails with his fingers. Finally all four were placed on the corner of the tub. He used his long arms to reach inside, fingers finding purchase on a part of the interior vent that curved in to the next room. It was his only chance. Now or never. He hoisted himself up with all his strength, the top of his head banging painfully against the top of the vent before he pulled his upper body through and then began to wiggle his way inside until all of him was on a flat surface.
He didn't have a lot of time, the only option was to go to the neighboring room and hope that no one was there. It was morning, maybe they were out. Hopefully. He managed to find his way using the light filtering through from various other vents down the long stretch, each one leading to a different bathroom of a different motel room. It'd be stupid to choose the one right next door. He squirmed his way through, trying to make as little noise as possible until the sound of the faucet running in Carmen's room was no longer heard.
Sam must have passed six rooms before he finally found a bathroom that didn't have a light on underneath or people talking on the inside.
Finally, Sam punched through it, breaking the vent with a loud crash. He bit his lip. It sounded loud to him, and he hoped that was only because he was near it.
He slipped down and landed in a tub identical to the one he had just escaped from. Pain shot up his legs from the jump but he ignored it. Adrenaline pumped in him, made him numb to the pain, for now. As soon as Sam was steady inside the tub, he pulled out his phone, waiting for a few bars to appear and reception to come again before he dialed 911.
"911. What's your emergency?" A bored female voice came from the other end.
"Please. There's an intruder in my room. She's got blonde hair...black dress. She's trying to steal my things. Help me. I'm in the Motel Six. Room 303. She has a gun," Sam hissed into the receiver before clicking off. That should slow her down. Buy him some time. Sam stepped out of the bathtub and dashed for the front door. He didn't even know what room he was in, but he hoped it was far from 303.
Just before he exited, he placed his hood over his head, eyes scanning the blinds next to the front door from the side for any sign of her. She hadn't checked outside yet...But she'd figure the vent trick eventually and search there and maybe follow him. Well, if she was in the vents, then he wasn't going to waste any time.
Sam opened the door and walked out, trying not to run, but walk fast as he headed in to the street. The morning light was sharp and bright and if at any time she walked outside, she'd see him. But he didn't hear footsteps and he never looked back. Instead he dug his hands into his pockets, grabbed his phone like it was his lifeline and made his way back into the street.
He walked for what seemed like an hour, passing up various strip malls and boutiques with no crowds. Too early. Too early for any place to be open. For any place that he could hide.
Finally, he was a diner with an open sign flashing from the front just off the corner of Elk street. It was barely opening, and he was the first customer. 'Sally's Cafe' was the name that he saw. Sally, he guessed, the big-boned, red-headed waitress with an untidy bun and a dirty white apron was the owner. She eyed Sam as he walked in, appraised him up and down as he slid his hood off his head and approached the counter.
"Can I get a coffee, please?" He asked.
"Little early for you to be up, hmm?" She asked, raising an eyebrow as she sauntered past him and went on the other side of the counter, drawing out a white mug and a steaming pot of black coffee behind her. "Up all night?"
"You could say that," said Sam as he gratefully took the mug when it was full. "Thank you."
"Mhm. I'll get you a menu, all right? Give me just a second, I was just setting up," said Sally. She disappeared behind the kitchen doors, leaving Sam by himself. He was shaking, really shaking. He took his phone out of his pocket and set it down beside his cup, staring at it, as if willing his mother or father to call him. No new text. No missed calls. She usually never waited this long.
All the while, Sam's mind teemed with questions and uncertainty. He had learned demons existed today. One wanted him dead, one wanted to protect him but didn't believe he was human. How could that be? How was he not human when all he had was memories of being human? Carmen had even said he had a boring life. It may have been boring, but it was a life, wasn't it? One he lived out just like anyone else?
He had also learned that she believed he was involved with a guy named Dean. The name didn't ring any bells. But it sure was hard for her to talk about him. For all he knew, this Dean character was the one after him. Not Crowley or whatever she was saying.
Didn't the word demon have a negative connotation last he checked? She was trying to manipulate his mind after all, where was the proof that she wasn't the one trying to kill him?
The door jingled and a new customer walked in but Sam didn't even look up to pay attention. No way it was Carmen. The cops were probably swarming the motel now looking for her.
Yeah, he did good getting away from her...Gave him room to go back. Start over. Find out what the symbol on his back meant. Find Jess...tell her. No, wait. Don't tell her. She didn't need to be involved..Tell Mom though? Yes. She...didn't need to be involved either but...it was good to have someone to share the crazy, to prove that he wasn't going completely insane.
Dad, he could deal with. Maybe he'd get his head out of his corporate workplace ass if he saw the symbol on Sam's back.
Maybe.
Sally was back, her eyes on the new arrival. "What can I get for you, darlin'?"
"Nothing, I'm just passing through, thank you," His voice sounded like music. Polite but restrained. Quiet and soft. The stranger slipped into the stool next to Sam's.
Sam took a sip of his drink, careful to only focus on the hot liquid that scorched his throat on it's way down. Yet his eyes fell on the stranger's hand, drumming on the counter, close to him. He was wearing black. A black leather jacket.
"Hello Sam," The stranger spoke and Sam started. His head flew up to look upon him. All black attire except for the white t-shirt or tank top underneath the jacket. He wore a silver crucifix on a small chain that rested over his heart. There was something about this stranger that screamed inhuman. But in a different way. Carmen had a dangerous flair to her that told the next person to back off, but this man was different. He had thick black hair, unkempt and wiry, carelessly swept all over the place. His eyes were a deep ocean blue, looking at Sam with strange familiarity.
Yet there was something dead in his entire being. He didn't know how that was possible, looking at someone clearly alive, clearly breathing air and speaking words. But it was there. Death.
"Do I know you?" Sam blurted before he could help it.
"Oh yes," He answered. "We know eachother. We know eachother well. But you could say we're going to get acquainted even more soon enough."
"I..I don't understand," said Sam, blinking, but not keeping his eyes off him. "What are you talking about?"
"My name is Castiel, Sam. And I'm here to take you home."