AN: Sorry for the long delay. Did lots of rearranging on this chapter. It's a bit longer that usual to make up for the wait. Hope you enjoy
…
Chapter Twenty-One: …Or Heaven Sent
Hope hoisted the duffel bag over her shoulder, glancing back at Sam's sleeping form before she slinked out into the early morning. She wasn't proud of it, but she slipped him some belladonna – not a lot, but just enough to keep him sleeping while she ran an errand. In their hunt for Death, Hope learned a few things:
Death didn't do his own dirty work
Reapers were Death's conduit to Earth
You needed to be dead to see one
So that's why she was here, in the hospital, roaming the halls waiting for someone to die. Not the most exciting way to spend her day, but desperate times…
She stopped outside a room of an old man. Frederic Lowell. 87 years old, terminal cancer, no next of kin and taken off life support this morning. It wouldn't be long. Glancing around, Hope pushed open the door, and slipped inside, dropping her bag to the floor and pulling out the contents. When the reaper came, she wouldn't be able to see it, so she needed to cast a reveal spell.
Hours went by, and the young witch let the steady rhythm of the heart monitor lull her to sleep in the chair next to the bed. She was jarred out of her slumber by a woman standing beside the old man with compassion in her eyes.
"Time to go, Frederic. Marla is waiting."
"You're not exactly what I was expecting." Hope started, pushing herself to her feet. "No black cloak, no scythe...I'm a bit underwhelmed." she bantered.
The woman blinked in surprise, but recovered quickly. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint. How can you see me?" She questioned, shifting her weight cautiously.
Hope's eyes drifted to the ring on the floor around them. "Simple reveal spell. The ring is a reaper trap. Couldn't have you running off with Mr. Lowell here, before we could have a little chat."
The reaper scoffed. "And what could we possibly have to talk about?"
"Death. He has something I need." Hope answered plainly.
The reaper started laughing. "Oh honey…you have no idea what you're dealing with. You think you can just come here, trap me, and start making demands? I have a job to do; and if it doesn't get done, heads will roll. Probably yours."
She crossed her hands in front of her, her stance square; just like her father. "You wouldn't be the first to try…or fail. But I'm not here for a fight. I need your help."
"Well…can't say this was a good way to ask for it." She tested the barrier and sighed reluctantly when it didn't falter. She crossed her arms. "What do you want?"
"Just a meeting. You can tell him it's about Sam Winchester." Hope explained trying to keep the waver from her voice.
The reaper nodded, a knowing smile pulling her lips. "Ah. I know who you are now. Hope Mikaelson; the tribrid. Sam's little mutt. Look I know what you want, but you can't stop this." The reapers eyes slanted empathetically.
"I know." Hope blinked away the tears before they fell. "But I have to try."
The reaper regarded her for a long moment before nodding. "I'll talk to him. But can't make you any promises." Hope sighed in relief, and she reached into her pocket for a small talisman, tossing it to the young witch. "I'm Tessa. Next time you want to talk…avoid all the dramatics and just call me, okay."
Hope turned the coin in her fingertips. "Thank you." Using the toe of her boot, she broke the ring around them. She stepped back as Tessa held Frederic's hand and his soul walked out the hospital doors, fading into nothing.
…
Castiel stormed down the hallways of Heaven towards the Thrown Room, unbothered by the wide birth that the other, younger angels gave him. He was not well liked these days. Having his wings clipped – so to speak, he had nowhere to go and all the time in the world to watch his friends suffer from above.
"You can't go in there, Castiel." Naomi blocked his path with a firm hand to his chest.
His lips thinned, and he shot an impatient glare at her. "I need to see Michael."
She shook her head disappointedly. "When will you learn your place? You have already disgraced us, and yourself. Michael has no need of you." Her chin high in the air.
But through the door, a voice was heard. "Let him through." Swallowing her pride, she ignored the younger angel's clear satisfaction. Stepping aside, she pulled the door open and gestured him through. Michael stood at the window, looking down at the world below, hands linked behind his back. "Thank you, Naomi. That will be all." He grinned over his shoulder as the door closed behind her. "I forgot about her nauseating bootlicking." The arch angel grumbled as he walked back to his thrown, leaning back and crossing an ankle over his knee. "Castiel! You seem troubled; what seems to be the problem?" He quipped knowing exactly why he was here.
"Lucifer is weak. We should strike now." He tried not to show his desperation. Sam was on the brink of self-destruction, and there was nothing he could do about it.
"You know that's not how it works; my father's instructions were clear. Even if it were so, I don't want to beat my brother at his worst; I want to beat him at his best, as I always have!" He boasted arrogantly. "Otherwise, it's just sad."
He tried another angle. "Sam is not strong enough to bare Lucifer. He would need to consume the blood of thousands of demons to prepare for that kind of power."
Michael smirked with Dean's mouth. "Good thing he's well on his way then." Castiel turned away in frustration, tension coiling up his spine. Michael continued coldly. "I don't appreciate you questioning my strategy. You should be grateful your life has been spared for your misguided loyalties, yet here you are trying to advocate in their favor."
Cas' brow furrowed in offense, turning back to him. "Misguided loyalties? Dean was my charge. I was meant to save him from Hell-"
"Which you did." Michael interjected.
"And for what?" He gestured towards the arch angel in front of him. "For this? To reward him by writing his death sentence? The least I could do is save Sam the same fate." Castiel countered passionately. He was on thin ice as it was, but he could not stop the words from flowing.
Michael stood, taking slow, calculated steps as he gracefully slipped his hands into his pant pockets. "Exactly for this. It's all by God's design; he even chose you to do it; you know why? Because you are easily manipulated. Castiel the Deplorable; always looking for a way to redeem himself. When God said jump, you did so with no questions. Anything to be back in his favor, am I right?" Michael taunted with a curious and condescending cant of his head. The younger angel stared back at him, unflinching. "Hear me Castiel." He began dangerously, invading Cas' personal space as his eyes glowed ice blue. "You cannot save Sam. You cannot save Dean…no more than you can save yourself. I have been…uncharacteristically generous to you as of late. Perhaps, Dean's bond to you is to blame, but I've lost interest in entertaining it." He stepped back moving to pour himself a drink at the wet bar. Castiel released a breath; it was terrifying seeing his friend's face but not recognizing the man looking back at him. To hear Dean's voice but know it wasn't him speaking. "You will remove yourself from this, Castiel." Michael said with his back to him dismissively. "If I hear you have been helping the Winchesters or their annoyingly headstrong little witches, I will strip you of your grace and carve you out a special place in Hell next to Judas. Am I clear?" he finished evenly, sipping his scotch.
"Michael-"
He turned his head slightly over his shoulder. "Am. I. Clear." It was not a question this time.
The angel knew better than to argue. "Yes."
"You can leave now." Dejected, Castiel left the room, and Michael smirked to himself. "I will do it, Dean." He promised. "The more you fight me, the harsher my punishment. Perhaps you would like a taste of it for yourself." He felt Dean calm down, the banging on the mental door between them seizing. "Let the games begin."
…
He was right. She needed this. The drive out of Mystic Falls was like a blast through time. Her somber and somewhat reluctant mood slowly faded away until they were singing along to Salt n' Pepa in the car with the top down.
Damon peeked out the corner of his eye, watching her with a happy grin. The wind blowing through her hair, the look of contentment on her face as she leaned her head over the back of the seat. He missed her; seeing her so carefree and happy. The last few months since she'd been back, she was a shell of the woman he used to know, and it broke his dead heart. So, he would take her out, show her a good time, bring the old Bonnie back…and then he'd put his feelings aside, save the love of her life, and let her go…again. Because deep down he knew that is what was best for her.
"So Professor Salvatore…" He snapped himself out of his thoughts at her playful tone. "Taking a page out of Stefan's book, I see."
His brow creased. "In what way?"
Bonnie scoffed. "Well, you both decided to go back to school for starters." And they shared a laugh together before it died down between them. "Stefan always found ways to reinvented himself. A soldier, mechanic…high school student. He always looked forward."
"What, and I didn't?" he asked offended.
She looked at him deadpanned. "You chased after the same girl for a hundred and fifty years, Damon. And then her doppelganger after that. That's about as living in the past as it gets."
He rolled his eyes conceding defeat. She wasn't wrong. Sure, he moved around but he never once cared to 'blend in'. "Touche."
She faced forward again, slipping her sun glasses down over her eyes. "Not like you could pass for a high school student anyway. Teacher is much more age appropriate." She added cheekily, holding back her grin.
"Okay, okay…" He drawled. "I'll have you know, I'm a very mature twenty-two." Bonnie let out an unladylike snort at his comical response. "Okay fine, twenty-five."
Bonnie hummed knowingly. "So do the kids leave apples on your desk? Do you wear those jackets with elbow patches?" she laughed. "Do you give out detention?"
He elbowed her gently, keeping his eyes on the road. "Hey, keep it up and you'll find out. I may be reformed, but an old dog never forgets his tricks." He flashed her a crooked smirk.
Bonnie shoved him half-heartedly. "Caroline tells me you're a favorite around there. The kids really look up to you."
He shrugged trying to be nonchalant about it. "Cause I'm fun, Bon. Because all the other professors there are ancient and boring."
"You're being modest, which is…not like you at all." She frowned, analysing him for a moment. "You love it. You love them, don't you?"
Damon rolled his eyes, giving into her prodding. "Fine, you got me. The annoying little minions are starting to grow on me. "
She beamed in satisfaction. "I knew it. Damon Salvatore is a softy."
"Yeah yeah, just keep that to yourself, okay." He sighed, a reminiscent smile breaking through. "There's one kid…Declan. He was a hassle at first, Caroline had no idea what to do with him; lashing out, skipping class, acting like a first-rate prick."
"Hmm, sounds familiar."
"Yeah, I noticed that too. I sat him down, we talked, and I think I got through to him somehow." He explained thoughtfully.
"What do you think it was?" She watched at the wheels turned in his head, wincing his eyes against the sun.
"He needed a father figure. A man he could base his morals off of." He scoffed. "Never in a million years did I think I would be that guy, but…here we are. And if I'm being honest…I think I needed it to." He finished, his voice tight with emotion. "He gives me a standard to hold myself up to."
Bonnie warmed inside. This kid was like a son Damon never had…never knew he could have, and while he was helping Declan, he was also helping himself. "I'm proud of you."
"Thank you." Damon cracked a humbled smile, but quickly masked it. "And don't go running off spilling your guts to everyone about it either. These kids dig my whole vibe, Bon; you go ruining that by saying I actually like them and I've lost all control."
"Yeah…" she patted his shoulder facetiously. "That's why." She would let him have it, but deep down she knew it was because he was still holding back a little.
…
Dean kept his kept his gaze focused on Bonnie's small bump of a belly, his hand soothingly cradling the swell that held his unborn child. "What do you think she'll be like?" He asked in a whisper, already wrapped around tiny baby finger.
Bonnie's hand rested over his lovingly. "Well, she'll have your stubbornness obviously; that's a Winchester trait that can't be tamed. She'll be compassionate and loyal, and brave. The best of both of us."
"Do you worry about the world we're bringing her into?" Dean asked in an insecure rasp.
She glanced up at him with a smile. "Of course. But this world or any other will be dangerous. We just have to promise each other not to make the same mistakes our parents did."
He smiled gratefully for her insight. "I love you."
"I love you." There was a knock at the door, and Dean stopped her before she could get up.
"I got it. Stay here." He kissed her forehead, and grabbed his gun in the nightstand; he would never take any chances when it came to protecting his family. He took the steps slowly, wondering who would be coming by at this hour. The knocking persisted, and got louder the longer he took to answer. Dean raised his weapon, looking through the peephole in confusion. There was no one there, but yet the knocking continued. He unlatched the lock, and took a calming breath before whipping it open, and only a gust of wind greeted him. He didn't have the time to investigate further because the shrill scream from upstairs snapped his head in the other direction. "Bonnie!"
He took the stairs two at a time, and ran back into their bedroom to find his worst nightmare come to life. Bonnie was on the ceiling…blood leaking from her stomach, anguish in her face as she reached for him. "Dean?" she cried, and before he could do anything to save her, she was engulfed in flames.
"Noo!" He screamed, and suddenly everything around him froze. "Azazel!?" He yelled out. "She's innocent!"
"She isn't real, Dean." Michael's faceless voice echoed around him. "And neither is that child." When Dean looked up again, Bonnie was gone, and so were the scorching flames on the ceiling. It was enough to make him reel back with incredulity. "You are living in denial. This will never be your life."
It took him a moment to realize where he was; that this was all a deception of Michael's design. It hit him like a bullet train; tunneling through his heart and ripping away his grasp on his illusion. Dean squeezed his eyes shut against the painful truth of his tormentor's words. "Because you took that from me!" The hunter yelled back in fury, nearly buckling at the agony of it. "Because I let you…" He admitted in defeat. "I did it for her." He whispered brokenly, staring at the photo of them together on the dresser. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?" He spun around, eyes wide in disbelief. "Babe…you look like you've seen a ghost." Bonnie rubbed her hand over his chest in concern. "Wait, did you see a ghost?" she glanced around, suddenly ready for action.
Dean blinked, and the last few minutes slowly began to fade. "Um…um no." A smile forced it's way on his face. "Everything's perfect." He kissed her sweetly resting his hand on her tummy.
…
"No way…" Bonnie exclaimed in awe looking out the window as they pulled into the parking lot. "I haven't been here since I was a kid." She remembered spending hours at the carnival, pulling her mom around to every ride she was tall enough to go on, and stuffing her face with cotton candy and mini donuts. But she hadn't been here since her mom left, and maybe a part of Bonnie avoided this place because it reminded her of her mother.
Damon threw the car in park, glancing over at her. "Then I guess we have a lot of catching up to do." He got out of the car, and she followed suit, amazed by the cacophony of sounds; the thrilling screams fading in an out, the music filtering from one ride to the next. There was a smell of popcorn and fried dough in the air and suddenly she was back in time. Damon snuck them passed admission around the back.
"You ready?" he nodded to the fence.
She scoffed following his gaze. "What, prices too stiff for you?" she snickered dryly even as she walked towards him, tugging up her jeans as she prepared for the jump.
"It's not about the money. You said I only had one day; you think I want to waste it standing in lines for hours. Pfft." He waved her in and with an effortless swoop, he had one arm behind her back and the other behind her knees. And in that instant, it was like nothing between them had changed. She saw it reflected in his gaze; the heavy weight of the charged moment, the pull of gravity between them. She was grateful when he wisely shattered it. "Close your eyes; I know you hate this part." Her teased with a smug smirk.
She almost wanted to keep them open just to prove him wrong, but she shut them anyways for two reasons; one, because he was right; vampire travel was not her thing. And two…she didn't want to get lost in the sea of his blue eyes while he was holding her so close. That was bordering on dangerous territory. Bonnie held her breath as he leapt over the fence and squeezed her eyes shut when she felt the wind whip at her face. When they landed, she peeked an eye open to see Damon laughing down at her, and she clamored out of his arms.
"It wasn't that bad, Bon." He chastised as they entered the fairgrounds. "If you can't take a little jump, how you going to do on rides like that?" He questioned pointing up at the two-hundred-foot tower, shooting screaming riders straight up in the air.
She rolled her eyes. "First of all, you wouldn't catch me dead on that ride, and second, that's different. Rides like that have you totally strapped in; it's completely safe."
Damon pulled a face, a confused quirk to his brow. "What, like you're not safe with me?" He asked rhetorically.
"Not always." She mumbled under her breath before she could stop herself. Damon paused, halting in his tracks. Bonnie sighed, her shoulders dropping as she turned around to face him again. "I didn't mean it like that, Damon."
He couldn't mask his offended tone now. "Then how did you mean it?" Her mouth fell open as she struggled to find an answer. "It's not that hard of a question, Bonnie. Do you not feel safe with me?"
"Of course I do. I trust you with my life; that's not even a question." With a sharp huff, her hands dropped to the side of her thighs. "I don't know why I said that, I take it back, okay. I'm sorry." She backtracked, hoping that he'd drop it. He narrowed his gaze, scrutinizing her for better response, but ultimately let it go.
"Fine. But you owe me." He smirked.
She sighed in relief. This was supposed to be a day free of their usual worries; the last thing she wanted was to ruin it with the depth of that conversation. "Sure, you name it." She agreed eagerly with a smile. Damon's eyes swung up to the Hellevator, and Bonnie felt her stomach sink. "Really? I have a fear of heights, Damon you know that."
He shrugged a shoulder. "Those are the terms."
Bonnie crossed her arms uncomfortably. "Fine. Let's get it over with."
"Thatta girl!" Damon exclaimed, throwing an arm around her shoulders as they entered the fairgrounds.
…
AN: I thought I'd leave it there for now, because it will just keep going otherwise lol. Love to hear what you think, and thank you again to all my regular reviewers and new readers xo - Vanessa