Chapter the Third

Behind Blue Eyes

The setting sun coming through the trees was casting an eerie red glow, dark shadows leapt around them like maniacal creatures. The entire forest was swaying in sympathy with the tremors emanating from the earth. It created something of a terrifying glimpse into some ancient, foreign hell. Dean stood transfixed as he watched it, the idea that he was seeing somewhere else was hard to shake.

Why is the sun setting now? The thought wormed its way into his head right as the shaking stopped and the woods reverted to their green, shadowy selves. The trees were still swaying gently, but other than that, it was as if nothing happened. "What the hell just happened?" he demanded of no one in particular, but turned towards Sam.

"I'd say it was an earthquake, except for the rest of it."

"You saw the weird ass glowy, red light forest thing, too?" Dean said, incensed.

Sam's mouth twitched in a smile. "I did."

"What's funny?"

"Killer flamingos, earthquakes not-of-this-world?"

"It is kind of new and interesting." Dean tried to shift his shoulder, it was really starting to ache. "So, now what? Think the flamingos will be back?"

"I don't know, I don't even know why they were here."

"Are they the ones from town? Dumb question," he said, answering himself. "I mean, they have to be, don't they? Because plastic foot."

"Hmm." Sam stared up at the sky, then glanced down at the damage the flamingo had done to the log.

"What? You have that we might be in even deeper shit than I thought look on your face."

"I have a look for that?"

"You do. What?"

"When have you ever heard of a demon animating plastic anything and making it real? If only while it's 'alive'?"

"Never. But what about Carabia? The sigil, the bits? That realgar stuff?"

"That paint on the wall by the flamingos looked a bit like the sigil, but not exactly, it looked, hmm," Sam paused.

"Older?" Dean said. "It is something old. I remember seeing it somewhere. You said it was familiar, from what?" He started walking back towards the car. He had the oddest feeling they'd been set up. He wasn't sure how, but it felt like a setup of some kind.

"I'm not sure. Let me make a call." Sam pulled out his phone and looked at it. "No signal."

"You said earlier there was no reception."

"Under the log, but this is where I got that call from Pete," he said, stuffing his phone back in his pocket.

Dean got his own phone out and unlocked the screen. "No service. Not even a bar. Just that annoying little X. How did Pete get through? Lucky?"

"The call was breaking up pretty badly. Or," Sam said, and stopped.

"He faked the bad reception? Can someone do that?"

"I don't know, it sounded real, but I wasn't really paying attention to the fact it might be faked."

Dean started walking again. "So, we go in and ask our friendly junk dealer a few questions?"

"It's a place to start," Sam agreed. "I think he's the key."

"I thought there was more too him than met the eye, but what?"

"We'll find out. When we get back to the car, I'm going to take care of your arm a little better."

"Thanks." Dean focused on walking after that. There were enough roots on the path to make walking a little difficult in the deep shadows that were filling the wood. It was hard to tell if something was solid or not. He sidestepped something that turned out to be a shadow and a few minutes later nearly fell when he put his foot down on a shadow that turned out to be a root. After what felt like half an eternity, he could see the bulk of the Impala through the undergrowth. "Finally."

"Sit down and I'll get the first aid kit." Sam opened the turn and pulled out the big kit. "I just want to clean it better and put a clean bandage on it."

Dean dropped onto the back passenger seat, watching the clouds drift over the forest as his brother worked on his arm. The sounds of the forest were natural—a raven far overhead, the song of a wren nearby and on the tree in front of an Impala, a red squirrel was swearing at him. "Squirrels really have a problem with me."

"Squirrels, Dean?"

"Yes, ever since that trip a couple years ago." He chuckled. "Those clouds look strange."

"Okay, I think that will do until later." Sam pulled Dean's sleeve over the bandages and handed him his overshirt. "Ready?"

"Yep," Dean said, still looking at the puffy gray clouds visible through the trees. Something about them was ringing every alarm bell his head and body contained and he had no idea why. "I'm going to drive up the road a little way."

"Why?"

"Those clouds." He pointed at them as he slid behind the wheel. "They aren't right."

"They might be," Sam said quietly. "And if they are, things are really wrong."

They'd only been on the road for a few minutes when Sam spotted a "Mountain Viewpoint ¼ mile" sign. Dean turned off and into the parking lot and they walked to the viewpoint—a corridor with cut trees framing the mountain.

As they reached the spot, the world around them started shaking again. The red glow descended with a clap, that sense of somewhere else was even stronger this time. It lasted several minutes. When it cleared away, Dean glanced at his brother to make everything was okay. Sam was most definitely not okay, he was staring at the mountain, a look of horror on his face.

Dean turned to look. "Oh, that's bad."

The mountain was spewing ash into a still red sky.

They were headed down towards town as fast as Dean could safely drive. He knew they were averaging at least 80, faster when he had a chance. "How are there still people headed up that way?" he asked, as they sped through a small town.

"I don't know, they have to be able to see it. You can see the mountain a couple times down here. I noticed on the way up."

"Maybe we're the only ones seeing it?"

"But why?" Sam had been staring at his phone. "Back in range. Give me your phone."

"Why?" Dean said, handing it over.

"I wanted to text your flamingo picture." Sam was busy with the phone, before he could set it down, his phone was ringing. "Good," he said, answering it, and turning the speaker on. "You're on speaker, Rob."

"Where the hell are you to get that picture?" Rob Emrys snapped.

"Enumclaw."

"Damn! They're in Enumclaw," Rob said to someone. "We can't get up there, we're in Europe."

"What is the symbol? We through we were following the demon Carabia. His sigil looks a bit like what's on the wall."

"We both think we've seen it someplace, but we aren't sure where," Dean added, taking a corner almost too fast. "That book! There was a picture from something in Hungary, maybe?"

"I remember. It was a book on the neolithic. A mostly picture book, in fact."

"I have a bunch of those, I like them for the pictures," Rob said, laughing. "Give me half a sec to check something."

"You might want to hurry, the mountain is going to explode," Dean muttered.

"What was that?" Rob demanded.

"The mountain. It looks like it's spewing ash. The sky has gone red."

"One second." The line was quiet. "We're pretty sure it's an Ancient. We all agree." The croak of a raven came over the line. "All of us."

"An Ancient?" Sam repeated.

"Get into the books you copied last time," Rob said. "If it's what we think, you should find it in Those That Once Walked by Roger Daltrey."

"Who?" Dean laughed.

"Good one!" Rob chuckled. "It should be in chapter five or six, Sam."

"I'll call later, thanks!" Sam was reaching into the backseat for his computer. "Here it is!" he said as Dean drove past a sign for Mud Mountain Recreation Area.

"What?"

"According to Daltrey, they are from the early days of the Earth. They were worshipped into the early neolithic. Sometime after that, the religions changed, and they were described in many ways by many cultures. The titans, the frost and fire giants—ancient almost elemental powers."

"So, who's sigil is it?"

"It's not that easy, the symbol is for all of them. The sign of their presence."

"Great, want to take a guess?" Dean stopped at the traffic light at the edge of town. "What do the flamingos have to do with it?" he said to himself.

"Flamingo!" Sam pulled out this phone. "It means flame colored."

"Ancient dealing with fire then?"

"Hmm," Sam was poking at the computer again. "I think that's it. The mountain, the flamingos, the red sky. Oh."

"Oh? That's your oh, the world is ending oh."

"I have an oh for that?"

"You do. What?"

"The fire giants are instrumental in Ragnarök."

"As in the end of the world?"

"Something like that, yes."

"How do we stop it, Sam?"

"I don't know," he said, bleakly. "Say pretty please?"

"Sure, we ask." Dean parked the car in front of the Collector's Nook. He opened the door and stepped out into a changed world. The sky was red, dark streaks of ash traced through the red. He could just see the glowing top of the mountain as it rumbled in fury.

"There you are," Pete said as they walked in. "Did you find your demon?"

"I think you know the answer to that," Dean said, stopping a couple of feet from the counter.

"I don't know what you mean?"

"All the clues, all the evidence, the flowers and realgar, the burn," Dean tried to keep the growl out of his voice.

"Realgar comes from where I lived once, so do the flowers" Pete said, a little crossly.

Sam huffed. "Why did you pretend to be a demon?"

"Me? Pretend to be, of all things, a demon? Silly child," he chided gently, chuckling softly. "I didn't pretend anything."

"Is there a demon?" Sam asked.

"Not anymore. Troublesome creature. Someone in town summoned him, I guess they wanted his help. Why do humans insist on reading something on the internet and then trying it out? What are they thinking?"

"Wish I knew," Dean said sourly.

"I did find the burn and the bits in the woods, you know. That's how I knew it was around. It must have followed me back here. It wandered in wearing its summoner's skin. Dreadfully rude. Demanded I paint over its 'sigil' on my wall. Really! I have no idea what it was thinking It should have known what it was looking at, what it was dealing with."

"What happened to it?"

"I ate it."

"Well, okay, I guess that solves that problem." Dean shrugged.

"What about the mountain?" Sam said, glancing at him, then back at Pete.

"What about it?" Pete asked.

"It's erupting."

"Yes, I know. I thought that would be interesting."

"You thought it would be interesting?" Dean demanded.

"Yes, of course. I am a creature of destruction." Pete smiled. "Creation too, they go hand in hand."

"But why?" Sam's voice was harsh.

"The demon, I think, was my camel's straw." He wandered over, dropped a pod in the coffeemaker and waited while it brewed. "It gets exhausting dealing with things like that. No respect for what came before them. No acknowledgement of Who We Were by almost anyone these days. Seems like it's time to start over. No one even notices my minions."

"Minions?"

"You met them in the woods."

"The freaking flamingos?" Dean shook his head.

"They're minions?" Judging by the tone of his brother's voice, Sam wasn't actually surprised.

"Of course, they are. They have had many faces over the ages. At one point they were gargoyles. I like the flamingos, though, and they don't need to seem to need flesh as often as some others I've had. I might feed you to them when this is over, though."

"We'll stop you!" Dean growled.

"My dear boys, I am older than humanity, do you really think you can stop me if I want to do something?"

A sense of cold desperation closed on Dean. The world—or this part of it—was about to end. They couldn't do anything to stop it. All the years he believed they could make a difference just stopped here, against a brick wall with an ancient symbol on it. He'd never seen this one coming. Wait, what did he say? "No acknowledgement?"

"The pie shop has pie crust fries, did you know that?" he said, looking up at Pete.

"Dean?" Sam huffed, sounding both terrified and annoyed.

"I didn't," Pete said.

"I'll buy you a double order. We'll come every six months and buy you a double order, and pie of your choice. Listen to your stories. Learn about you, get to know you."

There was a long silence. Dean thought he could hear a deep rumbling sound beneath his feet. He could hear his brother's ragged breathing. His own heart was pounding so loud, he was surprised no one else could hear it. Pete met his eyes, and for a moment, Dean saw what was there. The blue of Pete's pupils fell away, and Dean could see the deep red, the flickers of flame there. It took everything he was not to run away from the ancient gaze. For a moment it felt like death, looking into those eyes, but Dean took a deep breath and held the look. Pete slowly nodded.

"I accept."

The eerie red light was suddenly gone. The rumble beneath his feet stopped.

"What happened?" Sam finally asked, breaking the silence.

"It's fixed. The mountain will sleep for a while longer."

"How much longer?" Dean tried to calm the frantic slam of his heart.

"I won't push it again. I can't promise it will never erupt, but I will tell you I won't do it as long as you keep your bargain."

"And when we're gone?"

"That's up to you. If you wish to keep the tradition and send others in your place, I will accept that. As long as your bargain is kept, through you or others, I will let the mountain sleep."

"Deal." Dean held out his hand. Pete shook his hand, then Sam's.

"I need to close up, I'll meet you at The Pie Hole in ten minutes."

"We'll be there."

Sam led the way out of the shop, and they headed down the street towards the restaurant. They walked past the flamingos, back behind their iron gate.

"There's the bastard."

"Who?"

"The flamingo. That one. Look. He's missing a foot!"

"Maybe he was before?"

"Really, Sam?" he scoffed. "You're going with the it's not the same flamingo that tried to carry me off?"

"No, but you should see the look on your face."

"Oh, ha ha." They walked along in companionable silence.

"Pie crust fries, Dean?"

"It was worth a shot."

Sam laughed and Dean joined him. It had been closer than he would probably ever admit even to himself. Pie every six months didn't seem like a bad tradeoff for saving the world—and maybe even finding a new ally.

"I told you pie could save the world, bitch."

"You did, jerk, you did."

The End