Chapter Twelve
"In individuals, insanity is rare; but in groups, parties, nations and epochs, it is the rule."
-Friedrich Nietzsche
Chapter Quote: "Can't you use your emo powers!"
Where the fuck was Blondie?
The thought entered Deans mind as soon as he saw Sam pull his gun. He had it aimed at the two angels that waited in the small motel room they had all been sharing.
Dean thought back to the conversation they had with her before they left for the school. An angel had shown up and told her to leave. And Dean knew she wouldn't have left. Even though he accused her of thinking about it, he knew that she wouldn't. She may have been an unnerving little thing, but he knew Wendy was adamant about keeping promises.
So, that means that one of the feathery fucks in front of him took her.
He didn't care. He just didn't want Eleanor hunting him down and skinning him alive because an angel decided to kidnap her granddaughter.
Keep telling yourself you don't care.
Sam was smiling at the angels like an idiot after threatening them with a gun. But they didn't seem phased, wearing their blank stoic expressions like a pair of unsettling fraternal twins. And now, Sam was making as arse of himself as he stumbled over his words, holding his hand out like they'd shake it.
Dean raised a brow when Castiel did just that, though the angel looked confused with the gesture.
"The boy with demon blood." Castiel stated matter-of-factly, clasping Sam's hand within its own, blue eyes staring into Sam unblinkingly. "Glad to hear you've . . . ceased your extracurricular activities."
"Let's keep it that way." The other angel voiced deeply; tone devoid of emotion but the underlying command was clear.
Sam became visibly uncomfortable. His lips thinned as he slipped his hand from Castiel's like it had burned.
Dean couldn't help but bristle at the comment. "Yeah, okay chuckles." He bit back. Turning his attention to Castiel, Dean gestured over towards the other loitering angel. "Who's your friend?"
The angel ignored the question and stepped forward, "The rising of Samhain, have you stopped it?"
"Why?"
Again, his question was ignored as Castiel pressed, "Dean, have you located the witch?"
Dean scoffed, "Yeah, let's talk about witches. Where the hell is our one?"
"Pardon?" Castiel frowned, the expression odd on its features, like it wasn't used to doing so. The angels usually slumped stance straightened to its full height, looking over the brother critically.
"Our witch." Dean snapped, gesturing between himself and Sam. Dean placed a hand to his chest. "About this tall, crazy blonde hair, looks stoned, but sounds high? Blondie was here, you show up, and now she's gone."
"You lost the Syphon?" The other angel questioned, glowering at the two siblings.
Castiel raised its hand, stopping the other angel in its tracks as it tried to move forward. "The witch, have you located her?"
"Jesus, yes." Dean groused. "Now, where's Wendy?"
"We haven't been in contact with the Syphon." An emotionless Castiel answered.
"Bullshit." Dean responded firmly. "She said one of your guys rocked up and tried to get her to leave the hot zone."
Castiel paused a moment, a flicker of emotion darted across its face, but was gone just as quickly. Instead, in a monotonal voice it asked, "What was the angels name?"
Dean shared a look with Sam.
Dean sure as shit didn't want any angels getting into their business. But they also needed to find Wendy. Did he like witches? Hell no. But Wendy hadn't done anything to screw them over, so she was tolerated. Besides, Dean could admit that the witch had her uses.
"She said their name was Gigi." Sam answered as he shuffled his feet, looking unsure.
"Impossible, no angel has that name." The other angel spoke, lurking behind Castiel. "Perhaps the girl is imbecilic."
"Watch your tone, jackass." Dean was quick to defend, scowling at the lumbering angel. His glare matched the one that was being sent directly back at him.
"Is the witch dead?" Castiel questioned, drawing their attention back to the matter at hand. If Dean had to guess, he'd say that the angel was becoming impatient.
"No, but—"
Dean cut Sam off, ignoring the bitchface being sent his way. "We know who it is."
Castiel shot the brothers an unimpressed look before walking over to the bedside table. He plucked the small curse pouch from the surface and showed it to the pair.
The angel eyed the brothers lazily.
"Apparently the witch knows who you are too." Castiel drawled as it pocketed the pouch in its trench coat. "We found it inside the wall of your room. If we hadn't found it, surely one or both of you would be dead."
"Must've done it after Wendy left." Sam muttered to Dean.
"Or she placed it after disposing of the Syphon." Castiel said reprimanded, jaw clenched, and brow raised. It turned back and shared a look with the angel by the window. An unspoken conversation happening between the two beings.
"Yeah, no." Dean let out a humorless laugh, grabbing the attention of both angels once more. "I've seen Blondie deal some damage. Ain't no way some basic witch is downing her."
Castiel brushed off Dean, "An unfortunate turn of events." It rolled its shoulders, the gesture too human for Dean's liking. Almost made him want to reach out and smack at the angel to stop doing that. Castiel turned its gaze back to its menacing shadow. "We'll have to track down the Syphon."
Castiel merely received a displeased hum from its counterpart.
"What's the deal with Blondie anyway? Why do you care so much?" Dean bombarded the angels, which only seemed to cause Castiel's frown to deepen.
"Enough." Castiel spoke quietly, sternly. The tone causing Dean to merely blink at the angel. "It doesn't concern you. What does, is that the raising of Samhain is one of the sixty-six seals."
Dean raised his brows, "Oh. So, this about your buddy Lucifer?"
"Lucifer cannot rise, Dean." Castiel chastised, pacing in front of the two brothers, looking like an exasperated father that got called to the principal's office to deal with their kids. "The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs."
"Well, great. You're here now. Why don't you tell us where good ol' Tracey's at? We'll gank her and everybody goes home." Dean shot the angel a sarcastic smile. He got it, the seal couldn't be broken. But it's not like Sam, Wendy and himself had a lot of help. Just throw them a bone for crying out loud.
Castiel's brow creased disapprovingly. "We are not omniscient. This witch is very powerful, she's cloaked even our methods."
Useless.
Do this. Do that. Nope, we can't help and get our hands dirty.
"Okay, well we already know who she is, so if we work together—" Sam piped up, still hopeful that these feathery fucks would be of any help. He didn't read the message the angels were sending. They weren't going to help, they were never going to help, they just wanted them to follow along like sheep.
"Enough of this." The looming angel finally decided to enter the conversation. "Firstly, you still haven't killed the witch. And secondly, you've lost the Syphon."
"Alright, who are you and why should I care?" Dean bit back, his patience with the cold angel, gone. He watched as the imposing angel turned away from gazing out the window, to finally rest its dark gaze upon the older sibling.
Castiel grew reluctant, an almost soundless sigh worming past its lips. "This is Uriel, they're what one might call . . . a specialist." Castiel hesitated to explain as the other angel made its way over to stand beside its companion.
"Yeah, a specialist in what?" Dean demanded.
The silence was deafening, and only made worse by the way Castiel refused to make eye contact with Dean. He watched on as the two angels seemed to have another silent conversation, and Dean couldn't stop the alarm bells from going off in his head.
The secrecy was going to drive Dean insane. Couldn't someone just give him a straight answer, was that too much to ask?
"Specialist in what?" Dean repeated himself, eyes darting between the two angels, seeing which one would give him a hint first. "What are you going to do?"
Castiel cleared its throat (an action that was uncomfortably human), finally raising its steel blue gaze to the brothers, "You, both of you—need to leave this town immediately."
"Why?"
"Because we're about to destroy it." Castiel replied, more deadpanned and unemotional than before. Its eyes shifted around the room, before locking onto Dean. The way the words were spoken had Dean completely baffled for a moment. The sentence was said so blankly, Dean thought he might've agreed had he not been paying attention.
Dean scoffed, his frown deepening. "That's you're plan, you're just gonna' smite the whole fucking town?"
"We're out of time." Castiel spoke, gaze cast downwards with its hands stuffed into the pockets of the tan coat it wore. "The witch must die. The Seal must be saved."
"No." Sam began vehemently, shaking his head. "There are a thousand people here—"
"One thousand, two hundred and fourteen." Uriel informed, in what Dean could only describe as smugly.
"You're willing to kill them all?" Disbelief radiated from Sam's expression as his eyes darted between the two angels like he had just seen them kick a puppy.
It was hard to watch.
Dean knew Sam liked to think there was a higher power, something looking out for them. And to be blatantly told by an angel that they just don't give a shit, it must've felt like a slap to the face.
"This isn't the first time I've purified a city." The eerily calm reply that came from Uriel sent a shiver down Dean's spine. It was like the feathery fucker was proud of it. Like it was boasting about its accomplishments.
Castiel tried to ease the tension upon noticing the furious look Sam was sending its fellow winged arsehole. "Look, I understand this is regrettable—"
"Regrettable." Dean echoed with an unamused smile.
"We have to hold the line. Too many Seals have been broken already."
"So, you screwed the pooch on some Seals, and now this town has to pay the price?" Dean questioned, watching Castiel breathe in deeply, blue eyes narrowed at the older sibling.
"It's the lives of one thousand people against the lives of six billion. There's a bigger picture here." Annoyance leaked into Castiel's usually blank tone.
"Right, 'cause, uh, you're bigger-picture kind of guys." Dean's lips pulled into a sarcastic smirk, as he placed his hands on his hips.
"Lucifer cannot rise." Castiel stressed, stepping into Dean's bubble, and glaring up at the taller man. "If he does, hell rises with him. Is that something you're willing to risk?"
"We'll stop this witch before she summons anyone. You're Seal won't be broken, and no one has to die." Sam interjected, his voice taking on an edge that Dean knew all too well as desperation.
"We're wasting time with these mud monkeys." Uriel muttered, a sneer twisting the face of the man it was wearing.
At Uriel's scorn filled words, a look of dejection overcame Sam's features.
"I'm sorry," Castiel spoke; it was as if the words were for Sam. Once again, the angel caught Dean's eyes with its own and managed to look sincere. "But we have our orders."
"No. No, you can't do this. You . . . you're angels. I mean aren't you supposed to—you're supposed to show mercy!" Sam argued, voice becoming heated at the sound of Uriel laughing.
"Say's who?" Uriel raised a brow, it's superiority complex coming through.
Castiel turned away from the brothers, stating clearly. "We have no choice."
"Of course, you have a choice." Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes. "I mean, c'mon, you've never questioned a shit order, huh? What, are you both just a couple of hammers?"
"Even if you can't understand it, have faith, the plan is just." Castiel spoke firmly, as if it were so sure of what it was saying. It was like interacting with the bible bashes that go door knocking. There's no logic, no proof, just that God said so.
How did the angel even know that it was God?
"How can you even say that?" said Sam. It was saddening to watch his excitement of meeting these douches turn to frustration. The disappointment that swam in his eyes upset Dean more than he ever thought it would.
"Because it comes from Heaven. That makes it just." Castiel affirmed, like it was speaking to a disobedient child that was asking too many questions.
If it were human, Dean would've bet all the money in his wallet that Castiel would've been a door knocker for sure.
"It must be nice to be so sure of yourselves." Dean couldn't help the snide remark from slipping out.
"Tell me something, Dean." Castiel began, the smallest tick of a smirk pulled at its lips. "When your father gave you an order, didn't you obey?"
"Dean's jaw clenched as he let out an unamused laugh. "Well, sorry boys. It looks like the plans changed."
Dean watched as Castiel tilted its head ever so slightly to the side, its eyes widened just a smidge as if questioning where Dean got the audacity. It took all of Dean's willpower to not laugh at the angel's expression.
"You think you can stop us?" Uriel ridiculed, amusement shining in its eyes at how the lowly human thought it had the right to dish out orders.
"No." Dean answered, stepping closer to Uriel as Castiel tracked his movement. "But if you're gonna' smite this whole town, then you're gonna' have to smite us with it because we are not leaving." Dean gave Uriel a cocky grin. "You went to the trouble of bustin' me outta' Hell. I figure I'm worth something to the man upstairs. You wanna' waste me? Go ahead. See how he digs that."
"I will drag you out of here myself, boy." Uriel's voice darkened as it stared Dean down with piercing dark eyes.
"Yeah, but you'll have to kill me. And then we're back to the same problem." Dean raised a brow, lips pulling upwards. "I mean, c'mon you're gonna' wipe out a whole town for one little witch? Sounds to me like you're compensating for something."
"You've already lost the Syphon, Dean—" Castiel began, trying to interrupt the stare down between Dean and Uriel.
"We can do this." Sam cut in. "We'll find Wendy. We'll find the witch and we'll stop the summoning."
"Castiel, I will not let these—"
"Enough." Castiel stopped Uriel before he could protest further. The angel looked Dean over, giving a resigned sigh. "I suggest you move quickly."
Wendy had been in Gabriel's company for the remainder of the afternoon. It had grown dark hours ago, and she was becoming restless. While Wendy didn't mind the angel's company, she was worried about the brothers. She had tried calling but couldn't get through to either Samuel or Dean.
Wendy had even considered ditching Gabriel and hopping on a bus, but one look in her bag discouraged her as she was without a wallet. But a bus trip would've taken hours and even the thought of up and vanishing on Gabriel made her feel all sorts of guilty.
"Take me back now." Wendy placed her cutlery upon the empty plate. Her eyes cutting to the angel in front of her, watching him as he drank his long island iced tea from a curly straw that had a tiny blue umbrella beside it.
Gabriel immediately frowned at the witch and spat out the straw. A pout graced his lips.
"But whhhy?" He dragged out petulantly while placing the drink on the table. His words turning lilac as he whined.
"'Cause it's Halloween an' it's gettin' late." Wendy sipped at her soda. Watching the world outside the restaurant as older children began the rounds, knocking on doors and asking for sweets. Their excitement knocking at her shield. "I've got places t' be, Gigi."
He let out an exaggerated groan, rolling his eyes. Gabriel placed his chin on his palm while he grabbed his cocktail and continued to drink from the straw grumpily.
"Gabriel." Wendy said sternly.
"Fine, fine." Gabriel huffed before he reached across the table and clasped her hand in his. His hand was warm as he held hers delicately, thumb sweeping over her knuckles once.
The familiar tug jolted her stomach, teleporting herself and Gabriel outside a decrepit cemetery. Wendy squinted as her eyes adjusted to the poor lighting.
"Well, this is charming."
The witch ignored his sarcasm, confused by the scattered teens she saw once her eyes grew accustomed to the lighting. Wendy watched as a few teens darted past the two of them, while others sped off in random directions. She didn't need to drop her walls to know that they were frightened, it was written all over their expressions.
Was there a haunted house?
"Why're we here?" Wendy eyed the graves that surrounded them curiously. The headstone of the one closest to her person read; 'Florence Dales: beloved daughter. 1913-1918'. It was a lovely name, Wendy decided.
"This is where the friends you wanna' hangout with so bad are." Gabriel huffed, sucking obnoxiously on the straw of the cocktail he still held. The tiny blue umbrella looked sad as the thin paper became wet from the condensation of the glass. "I hope you know that I'm way more fun than them."
Wendy dropped her shield, wading through the terror of the teens, and immediately latching on to both Dean and Samuel's feelings of frustration coming from inside the mausoleum. A sudden pain shot through the back of her skull, and she winced. Samuel will have a nasty lump there in an hour or two. Wendy threw their emotions from her mind, building her shield back into place.
What Gabriel had said finally registered to Wendy.
"I don't doubt that for ah second, Gigi." Wendy grinned dreamily at the sullen angel. "Don't be ah stranger, alrighty?" The witch bounced on to her toes and placed a quick peck to the angel's cheek. She didn't notice Gabriel blinking rapidly at the action as she bounded off into the mausoleum.
Following the sounds of grunting and objects being thrown, Wendy rushed down the stairs that led deeper into the crypt. She came upon Dean trying to fend off three animated bodies. The other corpses that littered the hard floor around Dean indicated he had been there for a while trying to keep the animated bodies from running off.
He caught sight of Wendy as soon as she came into the room, disapproval written plainly across his features.
"Where the hell have you been?" He demanded irritably.
"I was kidnapped!" Wendy grumped back. She muttered a quick telekinesis spell that sent one of the corpses into the wall with a splat. It stayed there, unmoving.
"By who?" Dean's skepticism leaked into his tone as he pushed back the corpse that was way too close to his face. He slammed his fist into its chin and watched as its jaw broke off, flying across the room. Disgust twisted his features before he was pounced on from behind by another of the undead. "Can't you use your emo powers!"
Wendy gripped onto the corpse that was latched onto Dean's back, trying to pull it from his body. "It's an animated corpse, honey—there ah no feelin's!"
"Get it off!"
"I'm tryin'!"
Wendy managed to pull the corpse off Dean long enough to send another telekinesis spell its way, smashing the body into the wall. Its head splattering upon impact and coating the surrounding areas in dark brown goop. Rustling came from behind Dean; however, Wendy was already muttering another spell that caused the body to burst into flames until it was charred and unmoving.
"You couldn't have done that earlier?" Dean gestured to the goopy corpse as he tried to take in ragged breaths.
"Y' wanted t' go flyin' too, darlin?" Wendy asked genuinely, big eyes staring up at Dean in an owlish fashion.
Dean waved her off and puffed out a; "Thanks."
"'Yer welcome Dee-dee."
Dean was pissed.
He didn't get it. It was a simple instruction. All Sam had to do was not use his freaky demonic powers to exercise Samhain, and everything would've been fine. Dean wouldn't be sitting at the park feeling so unbelievably overwhelmed, waiting on Blondie to pick up what she needed from the grocery store if Sam had just listened.
Dean couldn't stand being around anyone right now, mostly Sam. But Wendy had asked him to drive her. He knew she only asked to get him out of the small motel room and away from Sam. Dean knew that she knew that the moment she left, she would have come back to both brothers battered and bloody.
At the moment, Dean could tolerate Wendy's chipper attitude more than Sam's incessant need to be right all the time.
And he'll admit only to himself, that fresh air and the sun on his skin soothed his agitation. No way would he be telling Blondie that she was right when she suggested he sit in the park rather waiting inside of the car.
Dean felt the air shift and he released a deep sigh.
"Let me guess. You're here for the 'I told you so'." Dean looked over at Castiel.
"No." Castiel gave its head a small shake, its gravelly voice quiet as it spoke.
"Well, good, because I'm not interested." Dean avoided looking at the angel, eyes cutting over the children playing at the park. He scanned the strip mall across the street for any sign of Blondie, but he couldn't spot the midget.
"I'm not here to judge you, Dean." said Castiel, blankly.
"Then why are you here?" Dean asked tiredly, he swung his gaze back around to face the angel.
"Our orders—"
"Yeah, I've had enough of those orders of yours—"
"Our orders," Castiel insisted, speaking over Dean, seemingly a little amused at his impatience. The angel looked at Dean, eyes locking onto his. "Were not to stop the summoning of Samhain . . . They were to do whatever you told us to do."
Dean's brows lowered as he stared back at the angel. A disbelieving smile tugged at his lips as he rested his elbows on his thighs. "Your orders were to follow my orders?"
A small nod answered his question, but Castiel still spoke, "It was a test . . ." The angel paused, as if searching for the right way to explain. "To see how you would perform under battlefield conditions, you might say."
Dean licked at his lips, shooting the angel an unimpressed look. "It was a witch, not the Tet Offensive."
Castiel released an amused huff.
It was strange to see the angel be anything other than stoic.
"So, I failed your test, huh?" Dean nodded and gave a little shrug. "I get it." He looked over at the sound of laughter, watching as two little kids, no older than five, chase each other around on the grass. "But y'know what . . ? If you were to wave that magic time-traveling wand of yours and we had to do it all over again, I'd make the same call.
"See, I don't know what's gonna' happen when these seals are broken. Hell, I don't know what's gonna' happen tomorrow. But what I do know is that this here—" Dean gestured towards their scenery. "These kids, the swings, the trees—all of it is still here because of me, my brother . . . and Spellman."
"You mean the Syphon." Castiel corrected. Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes at the angel for not catching the pop culture reference. Wasted. "I see you managed to locate her. Where was she?"
"One of your guys decided to take off with her." Dean explained, eyes darting around to see if Wendy had finished her task. He tacked on quietly, "she came back though."
Castiel frowned at the knowledge, looking off into the distance. Finally, it turned its attention back to the oldest Winchester.
"Before . . . You misunderstand me, Dean." Castiel held his gaze, never breaking contact, as if wishing to convey how serious what it was going to say was. "I'm not like you think. I was praying that you would choose to save the town."
"You were?" Dean raised a brow, not even trying to hide just how suspicious he was of the angel.
Castiel didn't catch his tone, and merely nodded. "These people, they are all my father's creations. They are works of art . . . And yet, even though you stopped Samhain, the seal was broken. And we are one step closer to hell on Earth for all creation." Dean rolled his eyes, but Castiel caught the action. "And that's not an expression Dean. It's literal.
"You of all people, should appreciate what that means." Dean knew the meaning behind the words, he didn't need Castiel staring into his very soul to understand what the angel was trying say. Castiel paused a moment, and lowered its voice, not meeting Dean's eyes. "Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?"
" . . . Okay." Because what the fuck else was he supposed to say to the freaking angel. Nah, man. I don't do secrets.
So, Dean relented.
"Castiel gave another small nod, eyes cast downwards. "I'm not a . . . hammer, as you say." Castiel took a moment, shifting a little. If it were anyone else, Dean wouldn't even question the action. But for the angel, it screamed nervousness. "I have questions. I . . . I have doubts. I don't know what is right and what is wrong anymore . . . whether you passed or failed here. But in the coming months, you will have more decisions to make. I don't envy the weight that's on your shoulders, Dean . . . I truly don't."
The sincerity pouring from the angel's words shook Dean. They screamed the truth. Which meant that something big was going to go down, and Dean didn't think he was ready for it.
Dean sighed quietly. It wasn't something he wanted to hear right now. Even if the warning was unexpected, it was appreciated.
"Well, don't y' jus' have tha' prettiest glow." Wendy sounded from beside Dean.
Dean clenched his jaw so hard, he could hear his teeth creak. It took everything he had not to jump at her sudden appearance. The woman was a goddamn cat, for fucks sake.
He turned to find her holding shopping bags with a bright smile on her face as she beamed at the angel on the bench beside him.
"The Syphon." Castiel greeted in its typical monotonal fashion.
"Nuh-uh, silly." Wendy gave her head a shake and pointed to herself. "Wendolyn, but y' can call me Wendy.
The angel frowned at the witch's beaming introduction and shot Dean a sidelong glance. Dean merely shrugged at Castiel. What did it want from him, Blondie was fucking weird.
"Of course." Castiel nodded.
And then the angel was gone.
"He seems nice." Wendy commented as she handed over a few bags for Dean to carry, but Dean just grabbed all of them from her hold and began heading towards the car.
"And how can you tell?" Dean scoffed, setting the bags down by the trunk of his Impala to unlock it. "It's got the emotional range of a rock."
Wendy let out a breathy laugh, "'Y can't see his words."
It was tense for a week between the brothers with Wendy playing as buffer. Dean was annoyed that Samuel had used his demonic abilities. And Samuel was annoyed that Dean wasn't listening when he said he had no choice.
The tension was grating on Wendy's nerves. The air was so charged with unsaid things, that Wendy had half a mind to let them have at it. Their anger would leak through sometimes, which would then lead to Wendy placing a pot down too hard or slamming a door for no reason, before she could push back the unwanted feeling.
They needed to talk.
But no matter how much Samuel wanted too, Dean shut down. He lied about not remembering anything from Hell. Lied about the reason why he was so tired, Wendy knew memories that turned into nightmares plagued him almost every night. So, she took to staying up, waiting for the eldest sibling to fall asleep. If Dean so much as stirred, Wendy was there to lay her palm to his forehead, morphing his scream filled nightmare into a more pleasant dream.
Dean had come to Wendy one night, after Sam had fallen asleep. His eyes were downcast as he sat himself beside the witch on the ratty two-seater. He opened his mouth once, twice, but the words wouldn't come forth.
Wendy held out her hand, her palm facing upwards. An offering, there if he wanted it.
A moment later, Dean was grasping her hand so tight Wendy was just waiting for her knuckles to pop.
She felt his guilt. Self-loathing and grief soon followed. The emotions tore at him day and night, shredding into his chest and leaving this gaping hole he couldn't fill with anything other than anger.
Wendy took it away with the simplest of touches with the unspoken rule being that neither of them acknowledged the tears that fell from Dean's eyes the moment she gave him a small break from the turmoil he had pent up inside.
Life moved on like that and slowly the brothers had moved past their tiff. Only throwing passive aggressive comments at each other until Wendy intervened like a mother scolding her children before the brothers could turn the argument into a fist fight. Wendy would calm the tension whenever she felt the need to. Dropping her walls and soothing the pair with serenity as she took the animosity away.
It allowed everyone to work together in relative harmony aside from the usual bickering. After another week the trio had stumbled upon another case. This time of a ghost pushing a woman down the stairs, which turned out to be a cursed coin blessed by the Babylonian deity Tiamat.
Chaos ensued in the small, afflicted town as people kept making wishes on said coin. A little boy with superhuman strength, Samuel getting struck by lightning by a lovesick woman. The memory of the overgrown teddy bear still haunts Wendy.
Trying to help Dean overcome his emotions to help regulate them and then being so close to the BPD teddy bear, had sent Wendy into a tailspin.
The teddy had so much emotional turmoil that it easily broke down her walls and turned her into a sobbing mess. Wendy had cried over the silliest things, like the bee that had been squished by an unknowing pedestrian. She tried to keep the emotion locked up inside her, but even she could see that her power was affecting the brothers when Samuel's eyes grew misty. And poor Samuel had to try and console her as Dean took off the instant he saw tears.
The eldest sibling returned seven minutes later with a pumpkin pie and all but shoved it in her mouth. Telling Wendy to stop wailing about bees while Samuel patted her head awkwardly.
It wasn't until they got to the wishing pond that Wendy began channeling an entirely different emotion. She had gotten extremely angry at Samuel at one point for lightly threatening the old gentleman that owned the Japanese restaurant, scolding until she was red in the face. And all Samuel could do was stand there and listen as he was spoken to like a five-year-old by a woman who was barely five feet tall.
Afterwards, they had managed to track down the man who had placed the coin in the first place, Wesley Mondale. However, Wendy wasn't much help considering the emotions of everyone in town were slamming against her shields and turning her manic. At first, she lunged at the man who thought using the cursed coin was a good idea, anger that didn't belong to her bubbling up within. It was gross that he wished for a woman that didn't know him, to love him. 'Sexual assault!', Wendy had hurled at him. Wesley only escaped because Samuel wrapped an arm around her waist and hoisted Wendy away.
Twenty minutes later Wendy was confessing her love for Wesley, feeding off the emotions of the poor woman who had her free will taken from her.
But then Wendy was back to crying about trees being cut down.
However, after Wendy's outburst came another meltdown when she got onto talking about how much she just loved chocolate fudge. The witch ended up sobbing hysterically about it to the point that Samuel and Dean grounded her to the motel room. Samuel even coaxed Wendy into drinking one of her sleeping draughts, so they could leave her in relative safety without her amplifying or feeding off the emotions of everyone in town.
When Wendy woke, the motel room was dark, which made her angry. The witch had ripped open the curtains and took in the sight of the messy room. This only managed to turn her into a whirlwind of irrational rage, walls gone as she angrily picked up clothes and slammed plates down into the sink. Wendy could make out the sounds of shouting and car horns from outside, but the noise only fed her rage.
Until Gabriel popped in, holding a box of cupcakes and looking at her with a raised brow.
Which only succeeded in causing another hysterical meltdown.
Because he was just so nice.
Gabriel wasn't as bad at comforting as the brothers were. He let her smoosh her face into his chest, hiccupping obnoxiously while he rubbed a hand up and down her back. Gabriel's other hand coming up to rest against the side of her face.
And then the world went quiet.
Blissfully silent. Her walls were shattered, but she couldn't hear or feel anything but her. Utter peacefulness.
Gabriel's fingers weaved through her curls until they found the back of her neck. Slowly but firmly, he rubbed at the tender muscles, working his way upwards to the base of her head, lulling Wendy into a sleepy state. Once her eyes began to droop and she was practically asleep leaning against him. Gabriel leant down, hooking an arm at the back of her knees before carrying her towards the bed he assumed was hers.
When the witch grumbled at him, he shushed Wendy and told her to sleep.
Gabriel was gone when Wendy awoke, but the brothers were back. And Wendy felt clearer, head no longer swimming with emotions that weren't hers. Samuel was in the middle of telling her how they had gotten rid of the coin, when Dean walked in eating one of her cupcakes. When Wendy shot Dean a disapproving look, Dean merely shoved the rest of the desert into his mouth and smiled at her, cheeks puffing out and reminding her of a chipmunk.
An hour later the trio had their belongings packed and were heading off down the highway.