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vail_kagamiFandom: Supernatural
Beta:
minviendhaCharacters (overall): Dean, Castiel, Sam, plus a number of angels and demons
Rating (overall): NC-17
Warnings (overall): violence, torture, drug use, insanity, mentions of rape
Spoilers: Going AU during episode 5.18: Point of No Return. No spoilers for season six.
Words (this chapter): 10,426
Summary: A man wakes up in a ruined wasteland, without memories, without a name, without knowing the strange guy who claims he used to be an angel, or that he once had a little brother. All he knows is that the world is dying, everyone is lying to him and that somehow, somewhere, something went terribly wrong. Because someone said Yes when they should have said No, and someone else paid the price.
Masterpost
They leave the house after one more night. Dean is feeling well again, and Cas has found something in those books after all. Bits and pieces, none of which are making much sense on their own. Together, however, they form a picture – a picture that Dean still wouldn’t have been able to see. Even Cas only did because he knew what he was looking for. From what he told Dean, the human can tell that his friend has been looking for something in particular for a long time, collecting hints and deducting the core of truth from folklore. His quest has been made all the more difficult since most literature was destroyed and the remains of the human race have other things to worry about than pass on stories, but bit by bit, piece by piece Cas is getting his picture.
“You couldn’t have told me that before, could you?” Dean complains, sometime around midday, with his shirt clinging to his back beneath his pack, despite the cold air. The pack is lighter now, since they left most of the books behind. Among the ones they kept were the handwritten, nameless journal, the books by Singer and – naturally – the thick and heavy pictured dictionary of the supernatural.
Would’ve been nice if Cas had taken over some of the load of books. On the other hand, it is up to him to carry a couple of freshly hunted cadavers, so Dean doesn’t complain out loud – he is older than twelve and therefore doesn’t think dead rabbits hanging off his belt are in any way cool.
“I could have,” Cas admits openly. Well, some confession – of course he could have. If he’d taken a second between psycho-analysing Dean and snickering to himself internally over how easy it is to keep him in the dark about pretty much everything. “It would have been counter-productive, though,” the angel adds.
“How so?”
“The way I found is very risky and likely to not work. It would have been good to find a better possibility. Had I told you, your mind would have been tuned in to my idea. You might have missed important clues.”
“Is that why you made me drag tons of books on angels and demons around half the globe when actually you were looking for information on something that’s neither hell nor heaven?”
“Yes,” Cas replies unashamedly.
“Oh, fine. But when I did come up with a better idea, you didn’t want to hear about it.”
“That’s because your idea wasn’t better, it was worse.”
“I still think it’s worth a shot. All we need is leverage. At least we should go and see if the demons have an idea that would work if anyone had the courage to actually try.”
“I told you why we won’t,” Cas says irritably.
“You told me why you won’t,” Dean snaps back. “In fact, all you told me is that you won’t go near them because they hurt your precious boyfriend. Beside your grudge, I don’t see any real reason for us to possibly miss a good opportunity. Okay, it’s a risk, but which fucking plan against Satan isn’t?”
Throwing a glare at Dean, Cas says, “So you do want to discuss this after all? I’m warning you, mentioning your brother is probably not to be avoided.”
Well, if Cas wants to be childish, Dean can be as well. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, and when he finally speaks – during a break, with his mouth half-full of roasted rabbit – it’s to ask about their destination.
“Milwaukee,” Cas informs him, and Dean nearly spits his rabbit at him. “You’re kidding!”
“Not at all.”
“That’s…” Dean tries to do the math, but his mind protects him from the reality of his situation by disabling his mathematic abilities. “We’ll need year to walk that far.”
“I didn’t know you were in a hurry.” The words are spoken so earnestly that Dean isn’t sure they aren’t meant just like that. Cas had been walking the earth for centuries, after all. What are a few more years, to him? Especially considering that his brilliant plan for Devil-killing will most likely kill him, too, so maybe he wants to draw out his goodbye.
“I’d like to get somewhere this lifetime,” Dean complains. “Especially with all of hell and heaven on our asses I’d like this to be over sooner rather than later. And somehow I can’t get over the feeling that once we got to Milwaukee, we’re just going to get what you’re after and walk all the way back to Tallahassee.”
“What would we do in Tallahassee?” Cas looks genuinely puzzled.
“You know what I mean.” Dean waves the whole argument away with a generous gesture when Cas still looks at him like he really, really doesn’t. “What is it you want there, anyway?”
“Information.”
“Figures. And you’re not worried your informants will be dead by the time we arrive?”
“That is highly unlikely. However, I had planned to ease our travels by taking horses.”
“Horses?” Despite the surprise Cas’ words invoke, all Dean can do is scowl at him. He remembers that the fallen angel mentioned some settlements were breeding cattle, but somehow, the thought that horses could live in this world never occurred to him. Somehow, he always thought everyone got everywhere by walking.
Probably because Cas has been setting such a fine example.
Also, he never saw any horses. Not even cows. He’s seen boar, rabbits, squirrels and one or two deer, beyond the forest in the living world, but never anything that was larger than a malnourished cat in the areas the humans call their own.
Although he might have heard a goat once or twice.
“I never saw any horses,” he says regardless, not keeping the scepticism out of his voice. “If they are still around, then why the hell have we been walking everywhere?”
“Because they are rare, and incredibly valuable,” Cas informs him. “No one would have liked to hand them to us.”
“Don’t you think our mission to save the world should grant us a few simple comforts? We could save the world so much quicker if we didn’t need years to get just about anywhere. Even the horse-owners must be able to see that.”
“We haven’t been on such a mission until very recently,” Cas reminds him. “Also,” he adds, “the places we have been before didn’t have horses. Pamela’s camp, the one we first visited, used to have a few, but they have died long ago.”
Well, that explains some of it. “You’re trying to tell me that those hunters we’ve been running from don’t have horses? I bet if ever someone came the long way there on horseback, those asshats confiscated the ride.”
“I would assume so, too. I did hear a horse once, while in the town,” Cas admits, and Dean feels like strangling him.
“Then why didn’t we steal it? We stole so much from them, why not for a change something actually worth it?” Thinking of the long days of walking with tons of books in his bag, Dean has a hard time trying not to yell.
“Because if we had done so, they wouldn’t have given up the chase as quickly. They would likely have caught us, and then my journey, at least, would have been over. In a matter or minutes, if we’d been lucky.”
It seems like an excuse. Dean feels strung along more than ever; like Castiel is keeping secrets left and right for no other reason than to inconvenience him. Or maybe to test out how far he can go.
Dean can’t put his finger on the reason, but something shifted in him in that moment when the world crashed down on him for that brief, terrible minute of enlightenment, and that something has everything to do with Castiel and his behaviour. Somehow, for whatever reason that seems unfathomable from where he’s now standing, Dean has been far too willing to believe him everything he said. Frustrated with his secrets, yes, but swallowing all the information he was given which a naivety that makes him think of Michael, and how easy it would have been to trust him.
With Michael, this desire to believe him set off all of Dean’s alarm in a heartbeat. With Castiel it’s much subtler, and thus much more dangerous.
Dean still doesn’t know what kind of game his heavenly companion is playing. He only knows that every side wants to use him for something, and no side is willing to let him make his own decisions.
He doesn’t even know how many sides, exactly, there are.
“And what makes you think anyone will hand over their horses to us now?” he asks with a sigh, resigning himself to the fact that he’ll have to pick out the truth about pretty much everything between the crumbs of information and lies Castiel throws him.
The answer he gets is silence, and when Dean looks over to Cas, the other looks at the earth between them, his face set in the dark mask he always wears when he doesn’t want to mention something.
“Well?” Dean ask.
“There is a settlement about two days from here. It’s large and healthy. They have horses. They can spare two.”
“Okay, fine, but why would they?”
Cas grimaces, as if in pain. “Because I’m an angel and you are Michael’s destined vessel.”
-
So basically it comes down to the fact that the community is made of religious fanatics who will do anything to aid the angels in their war, genuinely believing them to be a force of good and hoping for a place in paradise, in heaven if not on earth. Looking at the world around them, Dean struggles to actually believe that, but Cas, of course, isn’t shy of an explanation.
The humans have been torn from their normal life in an instant to be faced with death and terror all around them. They came face-to-face with monsters and demons they never even knew existed; from one moment to the next all their nightmares came true. The comforts of their civilisation were gone, they lost friends and family and hunger became a constant for those who survived. And in all of that the realisation got stronger and stronger that it would never again be as it once was. It was easy, then, to lose themselves to despair and hopelessness, so those who had faith clung to it. And when they learned – if they ever did – that angels were real and walking among them fighting the demons, they felt less abandoned, more hopeful. They believed the angels would save the world, or at least them and their families. They prayed fiercely, took every small improvement as a sign from God and refused to see the truth about the heavenly host even if someone told them.
Most of the humans still inhabiting earth, Dean learns, don’t even know that it was Michael who is responsible for much of their suffering. And if confronted with undeniable proof, they would come up with explanations. It was nothing but just punishment. It only hit those who deserved it.
The people that now form this community grew up as the chosen of God.
Dean thinks they are close-minded, delusional collaborators for clinging to a belief that has long since been handed over to ridicule and doesn’t hesitate to say so. Castiel looks at him and says, “They believe because they have to.”
“You seem to understand human nature surprisingly well for a guy who never experienced it first hand,” Dean growls.
“I don’t. Sam explained it to me.”
And here they are again. Rolling his eyes, Dean moves on to the obvious next question. “They never met an angel, huh?”
“They did. As far as I know angels like to visit this place. They show the people there generosity and small favours, further cementing their faith.”
“Why? Seriously, what use can such a handful of humans be to the heavenly host?”
“No use as such. They simply…” Cas hesitates, then pulls himself straight and finishes, “Some angels simply enjoy the worship they are shown there. Humans kneel before them and believe them above and beyond any doubt and flaw.”
“So they are after the ego-boost.” Dean grimaces. “Yeah, that’s positively angelic.”
Cas doesn’t say anything in return, nor does he look at Dean. If the human didn’t know any better, he would say his companion was ashamed.
“And Michael was there as well?” Dean isn’t particularly looking forward to this experience. Walking to Milwaukee suddenly sounds a lot better than it did a few hours ago. “Seriously? He couldn’t even be bothered to come down and show his ass when he was trying to get me to consent as his vessel. Had Zachariah do all the work.”
A second later, Cas is behind Dean, who only realises his companion has stopped walking to stare incredulously at him after several steps onwards. “How do you know that?” the fallen angel asks, his face full of confusion and shock.
“Know wha- Oh..” There is a brief bout of nausea as something clicks in Dean’s head. The moment he realises he just used knowledge he shouldn’t have for his rather complete lack of memory, the knowledge is gone already and he only knows exactly what he just said, because he just told himself.
He feels a little like crying.
“Michael never came?” he asks quickly, hoping Cas will get that he doesn’t remember anymore and not insist on talking about it. Dean doesn’t want to. Just the thought of reflecting on his amnesia makes him want to vomit.
His own mind is making him sick.
Cas needs a moment before he answers, but when he does, he says, “No, he only interfered if he absolutely had to. When the great plan was threatened. Otherwise he had those loyal to him take care of things, including you.”
“But here he came,” Dean says, trying to stay in the present. Leave the past behind, it’s passed.
“Once, as far as I know.”
“How do you know, anyway? Why would you even go there? I bet with you being fallen and the two of you rebelling against the big plan, those people can’t have liked you very much.”
“We didn’t know how they felt about angels before we got there,” Cas tells him, and something tells Dean that this will be another story he doesn’t want to hear. The life of Cas and his friend seems to have been made of them.
He doesn’t tell the angel to stop, though.
“Nor did we know that the angels coming to that place had told their followers to be on the lookout for us,” Cas continues, his voice casual, as if talking about the weather. (Cold, with many clouds and high chances for Armageddon.) “They handed Sam over to Michael, when he came. Me, they were allowed to keep.”
Despite Cas’ emotionless tone, that doesn’t sound like a story Dean would like to hear, or imagine. He doesn’t ask and hopes the topic will move on to something that doesn’t make something inside him was to scream on behalf of people he doesn’t trust or care about.
He wonders how Cas got away, how his friend got away. If that was when Michael… raped him pretending to be Dean. But he says nothing about that. Instead, he moves the conversation on to something that will be of more practical use to them right now than old stories about events that can’t be changed anymore. Not even if Dean did feel sorry.
“They know who you are,” Dean points out. “Don’t you think walking in there hoping they’ll just fall to their knees and give you everything you want might be a tad optimistic?”
“It would be.” Cas nods and looks Dean in the eyes for the first time in ages. “Which is why you will be the one asking.”
-
Cas plan might actually be good. He has depended on good plans for quite a long time now, and therefore must be able to make some. Evidently, since he isn’t dead yet. So, in conclusion, this plan might be a working one. Regardless, Dean hates it.
He doesn’t even want to analyse it in order to find weaknesses. It sucks, and he doesn’t want to follow it, period.
Unfortunately, he’s unable to offer an alternative, so they are stuck with it.
Dean would rather walk.
He has to play a part now, and while Castiel assured him that he used to pull cons left and right back in his old life, he’s not comfortable with the role his companion made up for him in this case.
Perhaps it’s only because it puts him in charge in an environment he doesn’t know anything about; perhaps it’s because it is too close to the truth. Usually, Dean wouldn’t mind people finding him awesome, but he doesn’t like the thought of them worshipping him for something that wasn’t awesome in the least.
Rejoice! Here comes the destroyer of your world!
Of course, the people they are about to meet have a different view on history in general, and Dean and Cas will have to play on that. So Dean will come to them as the vessel of Michael who lost his angel and is now on a holy mission in Michael’s name, and Cas is his prisoner, finally caught after centuries of evading justice. He has already been punished – the angel Castiel was burned out of him, and what remains is the host, sentenced to serving Michael’s glorious vessel for the rest of his life to make up for the crime of becoming the tool of a traitor before said traitor ever betrayed anyone.
It makes Dean sick. He says so. Castiel replies, “Call me Jimmy.”
So Dean does.
Without memories to back up Castiel’s claim of his conning abilities, Dean can only hope that once upon a time he used to be a better actor than he is now. He thinks everyone must be able to see right through their charade, but no one calls them on it.
And everyone is so happy to help them.
The first people greet them before they are even within viewing distance to the settlement. They stand by the side of the road and bow down when the two of them come closer, and when Dean tells them he isn’t Michael after all but only his vessel walking around independently while his angel is busy elsewhere, some of them seem heartbroken, some almost relieved. Either way, they are only too eager to follow his every order. He wants horses? He can have horses! The best there are, and they have plenty. And Michael will learn of this, right? Michael will make things better for them.
Dean would have liked to point out that things already are better for them compared to what life is like for anyone else, no doubt thanks to the angels blessing their community – or simply protecting it when they levelled the area around it.
The destruction of the world, Dean has learned, didn’t happen all at once. The cities fell one after another, the survivors of one attack fleeing to the untouched areas until those were destroyed as well. It took decades before most of the United States were gone.
What happened to the rest of the world, Dean can only guess. Communications are down, travel impossible. Perhaps the other continents are better off due to the simple fact that they don’t host any of the angels’ favourite targets.
Perhaps they are just gone.
In this place, however, one wouldn’t know what the rest of the world looks like. Before they meet the first people, Dean and Cas wander between fields of corn and trees bearing fruit. They are still smaller than what he used to know, the corn is shorter and the grass not as green, but compared to everything else, this is paradise. There are cows on the fields – not fat, but not thin either.
Somewhere, there probably are horses as well.
People are working in the fields that sometimes have the leftovers of buildings sticking out as if to remind them what would happen if they ever lost heaven’s favour. The moment the two wanderers were spotted, Dean learns later, everyone was alarmed and once they were identified, those who happened to be nearby came to welcome them.
Fortunately, Cas has told Dean everything he needs to know about these people and their closed-off little world, or he would have given them away with stupid questions about things the messenger of Michael is supposed to know. For example, Dean would have asked what these men and women do when other visitors happen to come this way; those not belonging the favoured of heaven.
They have little contact with the outside world, but they know compared to everyone else they are blessed. They aren’t going to risk losing that blessing by letting the less pure and faithful walk among them.
Dean doesn’t like them. No matter how much Cas tried to explain their behaviour, he doesn’t like them at all.
The thought of what they will do to them if they find out what they are really up to doesn’t help as well. Or the thought of what maybe they did to Cas, once.
Of course, it weren’t these people who betrayed them so long ago. It was their ancestors, none of which have been alive for generations. Dean still projects his opinion of them onto the entire group. Somehow, he doesn’t think they have changed all that much in the last century or two.
The biggest irony, however, is that they don’t even recognize Castiel. Among those they first meet, no one even knows his name, lest what history they share. The fallen angel never would have needed to step back and leave the focus on Dean, who doesn’t like it.
Everyone is friendly to Cas, despite the fact the that they believe him to be the vessel of a traitor. They treat him with mild interest and a casual gentleness that reminds Dean of the way people used to treat other people’s pets. Dean they all but carry on their shoulders. They probably would have, if only they had the courage to touch him, or generally breathe in his presence.
It’s not just respect, Dean realises after a while. There’s a healthy portion of fear as well – they know their alliance with the angels is more than fragile and depending on their benefactors’ whim. They are scared what might happen if they manage to displease them.
Quite right, too. Dean ignores them, doesn’t like them enough to offer a warning or a word of false assurance. He sometimes thinks that they must be putting on a mask as much as Dean and Cas are, really just waiting for the right moment to hand them over to whatever enemy pays best because the angels long since warned them about the two, but even if they are, there’s nothing Dean could do about it. So he just plays his part and hopes they’ll be gone from here before nightfall.
The leader of the place nearly falls over himself in his hurry to greet Dean as their little procession reaches the village. He is – and what else could he be? – a prophet, which doesn’t sit well with Dean at all. Prophets know things.
This one, however, doesn’t seem to know even where his own feet are.
“Dean Winchester!” he greets, completely ignoring Castiel as he all but falls to his knees. “We have been informed of your coming only this morning, but of course the best rooms are available to you if you want to rest. Me and my family are happy to leave you our home for the duration of your stay. Our women are preparing a banquet right now. Forgive us – had we know of your plans to visit us any sooner, all would have been ready, of course, as it always was.”
“That’ll be alright,” Dean hurries to say. “We did not mean to surprise you, but found ourselves without transportation pretty unexpectedly. We’ll only take the horses and be on our way.” He tries not to show how freaked out he is right this moment.
The prophet – no one told them his name and Dean doesn’t ask in case he is supposed to know – looks at the same times crestfallen and vaguely relieved. “You will leave in the morning, then?”
“Yes,” Castiel says suddenly, making everyone look somewhat uncomfortable since they have so far been happy to pretend he doesn’t exist. “We are very tired and will go to sleep right after dinner.”
Dean forces a laugh. “I wish that was true. But we have no time to linger. We need to be in Chicago as soon as possible and unfortunately have to decline your generous offer.”
“Our time is not quite that pressing, and we will be able to make better time if well fed and well rested,” Castiel points out, still looking at the prophet.
“You must excuse Jimmy here,” Dean says with a grin that’s more a baring of teeth. “Housing an evil angel has rattled his mind and he sometimes forgets that it’s not actually him who makes the decisions here.”
Mr. Prophet is eager to offer his help with that. “If you want us to-”
“No need,” Dean interrupts him hurriedly before the man can say something that will make Dean hate this place even more than he already does. “Just give us the da… the horses, so we can move on. Michael needs our help now. And yours,” he adds, much to the delight of the men standing around them.
Naturally, the horses have to be prepared as well. Fortunately, Dean manages to make everyone leave them alone for the wait, even though most linger nearby, standing by in case their guests have demands and out of curiosity. Dean and Cas sit on a stone bench beside the house of the prophet and watch life trying and failing to go on around them as if nothing special happened.
The village looks just like that: a village rather than a camp built of leftovers. The houses look like they were built independently, not integrated into the ruins. In fact, only one side of the place borders on the ruins of the city, the rest is fields and meadows.
It doesn’t feel right, it’s too open. For anyone else, this place would be doomed.
Collaborating with the destroyers of mankind apparently is the way to go.
All streets are plastered. Flowers are growing between the cracks. Somewhere, a child is laughing and calling for someone in its high-pitched voice before being hushed into silence.
Dean lets his gaze wander over the people nearby who pretend not to be watching them about as successfully as Jena’s friends did back in the day. He wonders if there are any angels among them, since it’s obvious this place isn’t warded against them. He’s almost willing to bet on it.
“Not many women around, huh?” he whispers to Cas, noticing for the first time that they have met only men on the fields and streets. The only women Dean has seen since coming here were watching them from the windows of their houses.
It isn’t really what he wanted to say.
Cas only shrugs. “Maybe they think this is what the book tells them.”
“How did they know we were coming?” Dean moves on to the more important topic. “The prophet saw us? Then they know-”
“The prophets of this place never had visions of the future. They are merely… receptacles of angelic messages. They know what the angels want them to know.”
“What?” Dean hisses. “Then the angels…”
“Have been watching us all the time. Possibly, yes. It would seem so.” Even Cas, despite his calm voice, seems troubled by the prospect.
Knowing they will be left alone until Cas lead them to his friend’s soul (or Dean learns where it is hidden) doeasn’t do anything to make Dean feel better about it.
“Clumsy to give themselves away like this, though,” the fallen angel adds. “These people would have helped us anyway.”
“Either way, we need to leave as soon as possible.”
“It doesn’t matter. If they found us, one night more or less will make no difference – we will stay in their focus anyway. There is no reason for us not to rest for a night. Another chance like this will not present itself for a long time. Possibly never.”
“I don’t care. I don’t like this place, and I don’t like these people. I don’t want to stay here any longer than I absolutely have to.”
“Don’t make such a decision without asking me first,” Castiel scolds him, like an irritated parent. “You’re judging the situation too emotionally.”
“I am making the decision because you have forced me into the position to make all our decisions and deal with all this bullshit. So you can fucking deal with this!”
Castiel has this blank look on his face again and Dean becomes aware that they are getting too loud and are too obviously fighting. He sits up straight, sends a strained smile in the direction of the men no longer even pretending not to stare and hopes they can get away from here before those guys try to be helpful again.
-
Dean gets his will in the end. Of course he does – he’s the boss! At least until they are out of the village again. Which fortunately is soon.
The villagers offer to have an armed group accompany them; no doubt a great sacrifice, as they don’t appear to get out much. Dean can’t imagine they are really as disappointed as they seem when he declines and claims heavenly top-secrecy as a reason. He very nearly jokes about “Jimmy” being such bad company that he couldn’t subject any other unsuspecting victim to it, but remembers in time that that might lead to Cas unexpectedly being executed on the ground of being a nuisance to The Vessel.
They get away while they’re both still alive, on horseback, with Dean clinging to the saddle while at the same time trying to look cool. He’s actually pretty exited about the horses now, and wishes he had a cowboy hat.
And a poncho.
At least they have food. And clothes. Maybe there’s even something poncho-like among those – Dean will have to check as soon as they take a break.
They don’t take a break for a long time. Their horses are strong and they ride slowly, preserving their strength. When they finally stop for food and sleep, it’s well past nightfall.
In the morning Dean is sore and stiff and hates the idea of ever getting back in the saddle again.
-
The way to Milwaukee is long. Dean quickly loses track of the days that pass. A lot of them are unbearably boring. Others… aren’t.
They run into demons five times. Four times they see them in time and are able to avoid them. One of the groups seems to be looking for something and Dean is pretty sure it’s them. Since Lucifer and Michael currently share the same goal – find the soul – and neither of them would profit from killing either him or Castiel before it is found, Dean doesn’t think those demons are Lucifer’s minions and nearly jumps out, demanding to be taken to their leader. The memory of what Cas told him of the consequences keeps him quiet and hidden, though. He’s willing to give Cas’ plan a chance, or at least learn more about it before he acts on his own. At the very least he would like to have something to bargain with before he sells himself to the nearest demon that will have him.
The other time they meet a demon the demon poses as a normal human who just happened to run into them. Dean might have bought the act, but the demon made the plan without knowing about Cas’ built-in demon sensor. The former angel goes with it, lets the seemingly hapless and confused woman get close and then sticks his sword between her ribs. Dean, who didn’t know about anything, is shocked for a moment.
Then there is the one time they actually meet two humans who are just humans. Their paths cross in a dry, dusty canyon. The other two are travelling somewhere as well. There was a settlement in Topeka, they heard, and they hoped they’d find it and be taken in. Their own settlement, small to begin with, had just been all but wiped out by an epidemic, and the people from the only other one nearby threatened to kill them if they dared to get too close, were too afraid of the disease even though the two refugees showed no signs of carrying it.
Cas tries to discourage them from their plan, tells them to stay away from any communities for another few weeks until they can be sure neither of them will get sick. The two strangers, in turn, try to steal their horses. They don’t part in friendship.
The landscape changes. Dirt and dust dominate everything, everywhere, but the further they get from the cities that were at the immediate centre of destruction the more vegetation is to be found. They never run a risk of running out of water, follow rivers and pass lakes, some better filled, some less. Some even have fish, and Dean never suspected that he liked the slimy things so much.
They come across canyons and forests. Sometimes Dean thinks he can identify where they are, but he’s never sure. Once they stray from the old roads, the world isn’t familiar anymore. He might have travelled every state a hundred times, but he never went anywhere his car couldn’t take him.
There’s always enough for the horses to feed on. The food Dean and Cas were given lasts for weeks, and when they run out, it is easy to hunt or find fruits and berries. Cas takes the time to teach Dean how to set traps and Dean finds that he actually already knows how. When he contributes his first medium-sized rabbit to their food plan, he feels ridiculously proud, a like a little boy eagerly awaiting his father’s approval.
Cas does little more than acknowledge his success. His rabbit is fatter, anyway.
It’s not perfect. The world doesn’t seem whole anywhere they go, the grass is never green enough, the trees never too tall or entirely healthy. Plants, even after centuries of adjustment, grow only so well with so little sun. Yet, one evening, when they are resting at the edge of a valley, with the horses nibbling at the grass and the invisible sun making the sky glow in a deep red behind streaks of dark clouds, Dean has to admit that there is a certain beauty, even to this world.
The ruins of a far town they see as outlines before the dimly glowing sky only add to the impression.
It seems odd that there is no one living here, that all that’s left of humanity is concentrated to the ruins that don’t have much left to offer them. Dean understands, though – the cities offer protection the open areas don’t.
Whenever they near a city, things get worse again, as if to underline that the attack was meant for mankind, not the world. (It wasn’t. It was meant as a message from one brother to the other.) But they only get near the cities when they have to – when it would be too much of a detour to avoid them or the area is so rough they have to keep to the roads.
Apart from the two who tried to steal their horses, they never meet another human being, all the way to a city that is, most certainly, not Milwaukee.
Dean figures it out soon enough – even without being able to give their exact longitude and shit he knows that they are passing Milwaukee by at least a hundred miles to the west. The realisation comes with a new rush of anger. He wonders if this is Castiel’s way of punishing him for his refusal to worship his brother’s name all those weeks ago: instant removal of trust. “Milwaukee my ass,” he mutters through clenched teeth, but Cas is riding a few dozen feet ahead of him and doesn’t hear.
Dean never brings it up and Cas never explains. They never talk about it, but the seething anger and hurt in Dean runs a little deeper by the time they near their actual destination. That, and he conviction that he might be better off on his own.
He can’t trust anyone.
The town Cas finally aims for has never been large, which must be the reason why it’s still mostly intact. At least it looks quite intact from afar. As they get closer, Dean can see that many buildings were left standing but are hollowed out, as if something ate them from the inside.
They ride past a sign that has been worn away by weather and time. Only the word Blue is still readable, but Dean’s mind completes the name automatically and almost without his notice. They’re in Minnesota, then. Not quite Milwaukee, but going in the right direction long enough for Dean to need a long time before he noticed the difference.
Cas is an asshole and should die in a fire. Dean still catches himself looking for explanations for his friend, making excuses, trying to see things from Cas’ point of view, simply because Cas is the only one he has.
But Cas doesn’t offer anything, and Dean is fed up with all the lies and mistrust. The fallen angel isn’t the only one who has reason for doubt.
Dean feels used. With Michael and even Lucifer, he at least knew what for.
Which doesn’t mean he has any desire to return to Michael or any other angel (or whatever) he has met along the way. Which is exactly his present dilemma: he can’t trust anyone, but on his own he’ll be lost.
But then, it might be better to go out alone and learn things on his own than depend on the very subjective truths he’s being told by all those who pretend to mean well. By now, he feels confident enough to survive on his own and if he doesn’t…
Well, it’s not like a painful death would be undeserved, after everything he has done.
(Most of all, he just wishes Sam was there. Nothing was ever okay when he wasn’t.)
Night is falling when they enter Blue Earth, but even in the growing darkness, Dean can tell that the town is all but empty. He hears distant voices, sees the light of fires reflected in the low clouds. The streets are well maintained and some of the houses they pass, though currently empty, show signs of recent use. Whoever is here doesn’t bother to hide their presence. Dean wonders if Cas is leading them to a demon’s nest after all.
He does ask, eventually, to wake him up if nothing else – Cas has been silent for so long Dean is beginning to think he fell asleep riding, or died in the saddle. Probably of sores.
Turns out he’s awake, and once again knowing everything there is to know about their current location. Walking the earth for centuries, or however long he did before he was human, does have its perks.
Castiel isn’t very communicative, though, and keeps his explanation simple: A hunter used to live in this town, but while he was a victim of the war, he was killed years before the war actually started. Later, when things started to go bad, some people simply happened to find his secret arsenal and his personal notes on the things that were out to kill them, and so those lucky ones settled in his old place. More and more people joined them as time passed.
Apart from this one there are very few camps up here and nothing of interest to find. Just a few well armed people living their lives. Demons rarely stray this far North.
“Have I been here before?” Dean asks. That’s not really the question, though – he knows he was. He’s merely hoping for details.
“Yes.”
“That’s it?” Dean scowls when nothing else is offered. “Why did I come? What was I doing here?”
“I’m sorry.” Castiel doesn’t sound sorry at all. He sounds sour. “Giving you information on your old life is nearly impossible without mentioning Sam. You will have to remain ignorant of your past, I’m afraid – I’m sure that’s in your best interest, though.”
“You’re being childish,” Dean snaps. “You know that, Cas? You’re five!”
“We’re being followed.”
“I know. Have known for ages. Bastards are probably after our horses.”
“It’s possible.” Cas doesn’t seem to be too concerned. He’s been doing well without a horse for a long time, Dean thinks – could probably care less, depending on how much further they have to go once they got what they want in this place.
Or rather, once Cas got what he wants.
Dean just hopes whoever will steal the animals in the end won’t bother to kill them for it.
At least they can be sure there are still people here. On their way to Minnesota, they only once got close to a settlement Cas knew from a long time ago. It was a coincidence and they never intended to stop there, but Cas noticed that the wards that surrounded it in a wide circle had been destroyed, and when they checked they found nothing. The camp had been gone for so long its remains looked hardly better than the ruins it had been nestled in. A handful of bleached bones in one of the houses refused to tell their story.
There are no bones here, no destruction – at least no recent destruction. The town looks almost as good as the one in Tallahassee, and event though they don’t see anyone, the well maintained streets tell Dean that someone lives here, and intends to stay.
The thought that they might be leading angels or demons to this place comes unbidden and doesn’t leave Dean alone anymore. Almost involuntarily he looks back over his shoulder, but the only thing following them up the street is the dark of night.
“You know where we’re going?” he asks Cas.
“Yes.”
“You said so in Tallahassee as well.”
“No, you simply assumed I knew the way.”
“And this time you do know it? How long since you last came here?”
“Long. I killed Sam about a week from here.”
The words send… something down Dean’s spine. Maybe a jolt of energy, or the shock of a punch to the stomach. Something painful. He doesn’t have time to react, however. Castiel simply keeps talking. “After that I came close, but didn’t come here. I was too interesting a target at that time.”
Which could mean that he didn’t want to endanger the people here, or that he didn’t trust them. Probably both. If this world makes you chose between two crappy options, ‘Both’ is the most likely answer.
“So, even if you remember the right way, it’s very possible that they moved whatever you’re looking for by now.”
“Possible, but unlikely. Even if they did, we can always ask.”
He does have a point there. Dean can only hope the information won’t cost them the clothes they’re wearing.
“You think whoever you’re hoping to meet is just going to give you what you want? What if they want something in return?”
“Then we give them the horses.”
“Speak for yourself,” Dean mutters. He’d actually like to keep the horse for the moment he takes off.
Though maybe it won’t be that bad if Cas is horseless at that time.
“Got our own horses,” A voice suddenly cuts through the growing darkness. Both Dean and Cas pull their horses to a stop and turn to the left. Dean instinctively reaches for his gun, but the guy stepping out of the shadows between two houses looks harmless enough. He carries no weapon Dean can see, but that doesn’t say anything.
The woman at his side has a gun in a leg holster. She doesn’t draw it, though.
“’sides, our horses look better,” the man continues. “Where did you come from? You look like you’ve been riding all the way from Texas.”
“We rode here all the way from Florida,” Dean corrects him.
The woman whistles through her teeth, even as Cas nitpicks and explains that they didn’t get the horses until Alabama.
“What brings you this far North?” The man seems entirely unconcerned with the new arrivals. There is a lightness to his stance, a lack of tension to his movement that Dean doesn’t trust for a second. Right this moment, at least a dozen men hidden in the shadows are aiming their weapons at them, of that he’s sure.
“A woman called Ennina Miller used to live here,” Cas explains. The others frown a little, though Dean’s not sure if he imagined the slight change in the way they hold themselves.
Once again he has no idea where this is going or who Cas is talking about. To be fair, though, he never asked – partially due to being too busy fuming over how Cas never tells him anything.
“She lived here alright,” the woman says. “T’ was long before I was born. She must’ve been dead for… what, a century now? More?”
“I hope you didn’t plan to meet her.” The man sounds amused. “Else you’re in for a disappointment.”
“If you’re looking for a psychic, I hear Missouri Mosley in Kansas might still be around,” the woman adds, which gets a laugh out of her companion. Well, it’s nice to know that at last someone is having fun on this planet.
From the line between Castiel’s brows, Dean wouldn’t bet on him getting that they are being made fun of. “Mosley died of illness in 2011. And I am well aware that Miller is not alive today either. Regardless of this inconvenience, I harbour the hope that you will allow me insight in her notes.”
The two strangers share a long look while Dean, on his horse, rolls his eyes. Since he knows Castiel is able to speak like a normal person if he wants to, he suspect that he might actually have done that on purpose.
Still. So not the way to blend with the rest of the population, especially considering that most of them can’t even read or write these days.
“What would you want with them?” the woman asks.
“Read them seems to be the obvious answer,” Dean drops in.
Castiel adds, “She knew things.”
“That she did,” the man agrees, nodding slowly. “What d’ you wanna know? Must be damn important if you came here all the way from Florida.” Suddenly, a grin breaks out on his face. “Well, whatever it is, it’ll have to wait for morning. I bet you’re pretty tired, and ‘sides, our Madam don’t wanna be bothered after sunset anyway.”
“After long before sunset, actually,” the woman adds.
“And not until long after sunrise either.”
“Who’s this Madam?” Cas wants to know.
“The woman who’s in charge of everything. She’ll probably let you have the notes, though.”
So that’s the woman who’ll take their horses, and probably their clothes too, and the nice bow Cas has shot them so many rabbits with. At least she has a name.
Well, kind of.
“What makes you so sure?” Dean asks, finding these people and their behaviour stranger by the second.
“Because she told us you were coming,” the man explains, as if that were the most natural thing in the world. “And she didn’t tell us to kill you on the spot.”
-
Whoever ‘she’ is apparently also didn’t tell Taula and Milon who their guests are. At least no one says anything when Dean introduces Cas as Clark and himself as Bruce. No one gives them a second name or asks for theirs, so Dean supposes that family names are either not of import here or have been lost completely.
It seems an odd thing to notice.
Contrary to his expectations, they aren’t asked to pay for their stay, the room they are given or the dinner they are served. Taula and Milon share a house with five others, three of them children or teenagers, and by the look of it Dean and Cas arrived just in time for dinner. They are the main attraction for the small group – understandable, considering hardly anyone ever comes here. The oldest kid has vague memories of the last visitor they had, the two younger ones have never seen anyone but the barely two hundred men and women living here.
Dean takes over the entertainment of their hosts, telling of their travels, with emphasis on the two wanderers who wanted to steal their horses and the demons they avoided. He describes the cities he saw in great detail and even tells of the green, dead forest while being careful not to mention anything that might give away Castiel’s nature or his own background as an angel’s meat suit.
All the time, Cas sits beside him hardly saying a word. He leaves the storytelling to Dean, which is a wise decision considering that he’s not the greatest teller of all times and especially considering that whenever he does bother to tell anything, it tends to end up ruining the mood.
Everyone here is so carefree it makes Dean nervous, and when one of the older inhabitants of the house throws them a suspicious gaze or two over dinner, he feels almost relieved. He still has a hard time sleeping that night, only relaxing enough on the wonderful, wonderful mattress made of straw because Cas is awake and would notice any danger that might be sneaking up the stairs to their room.
Hours later, Dean wakes up in the dark and Cas is lying on his own bed, deeply asleep. So much for the watchdog. On the one hand, Dean trusts Cas’ instincts and experience enough to know that he wouldn’t sleep if he wasn’t sure the place was save, on the other hand he can’t shake off his own inherent caution and ends up lying awake for the rest of the night, listening to every sound.
At dawn, he gives up on sleep and rolls out of bed, pulling on his jacket quietly so he doesn’t wake Cas, and sneaks down the stairs to the living area. He finds Ruth sitting on the old couch that is moth eaten but covered in a large, handmade woollen blanket to hide its faults. The young girl looks at him through wide eyes full of awe.
“Can’t you sleep?” she asks. Her knees are drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs for warmth. Despite the chill, she isn’t wearing anything but a sleeveless dress that does nothing to hide her skinny limbs. It seems to be just her, though – most of the others are well fed. Perhaps she’s simply the skinny type.
“What about you?” he asks back. Sits on the armrest of the couch and listens to the silence. Everyone else is still asleep.
“Couldn’t.” Her eyes are large and dark as she looks at him. Dean finds it hard to guess her age – she could be twelve or fifteen, probably not older. “Where did you sleep when you were travelling?” she asks. “Did you sleep on the horse?”
Dean laughs quietly. “No, we slept on the ground. One of us always kept watch, the other one slept.”
“Where did the horses sleep?”
“Right beside us. Which was nice – horses are warm.”
Ruth nods. “I’d like a horse now,” she tells him and wraps her arms even closer around herself.
Dean is quite happy that of all the things he lost along the way, he got to keep his leather jacket. “I bet. But you do have horses around here, right?”
“Of course.” She scrunches her face as if the idea of there being no horses was absurd. “Almost as many horses as people. I have my own, you know? It’s called Benny.”
“Is it?” Dean smiles.
“Yeah. I got him when I turned ten. Taula makes me take care of him every day after school. It’s annoying sometimes, but, you know.” She shrugs, but Dean is more interested in the other thing she said. So they do have a school here. He’s not really surprised.
“I wish I could take Benny for a long trip,” Ruth tells him. “Like you did. I want to see the rest of the world, but we’re not allowed to get further than a few miles from the town, and never alone.”
“You’re not missing much,” Dean comforts her. “Really. The world really is nothing worth seeing. Actually, compared to every other place I’ve seen, this one is the best so far.”
“I guess it’s okay,” Ruth admits, though she does seem disappointed. Then her face lights up. “Did you know that a hunter used to live here? In the church where our Madam is living now. He was a priest and he killed demons.”
She seems to think that a hunter is a pretty big deal, so Dean indulges her. “Really? Ca… Clark told me about the hunter, but I didn’t know he was a priest as well.”
“Well, he was. And you know what else?” She leans closer and drops her voice even more, as if what she’s about to reveal is a great secret. “Dean Winchester used to come here sometimes.”
Dean nearly falls off the armrest. He doesn’t, but he kind of freezes. “Did he?” he manages.
“Oh yeah. Wait, I’ll show you a picture.”
“Wait, that’s really not…” It’s too late – she’s already gone. Before Dean can figure out what to do now or come up with a good plan about what to do if she recognizes him, she’s back already, shoving a picture frame in his face.
The photo inside is old – of course it is. It’s faded, but apparently has been kept in a box away from damaging sunlight as the picture is still clearly recognizable.
It shows a blonde little boy of maybe six or seven years who carries a much smaller child in his arms. The little one has one hand fisted in the older one’s hair and is trying to reach for something not in the picture, while the older one holds on to the squirming little body with an annoyed expression on his face.
Dean swallows, even as he automatically takes the picture. Ruth is leaning over the back of the couch, her hair hanging onto Dean’s shoulder and brushing his cheek, while his fingers brush over the dark locks of the little boy in the picture.
“It’s the other one,” Ruth corrects him. “The little one must be his brother, I guess.”
Funny that she seems to think only Dean is worth mentioning. “What do you know about his brother?”
Ruth shrugs as if it’s really not important. “He died.”
“Yeah, I guess he did,” Dean mutters. “Funny, though. That even someone like Dean used to be a child once, and had a kid brother he cared about.”
“I suppose,” Ruth says. “Doesn’t matter, though, does it? He destroyed the world. I doubt anything else in his life can top that.”
“So do I,” Dean agrees, quietly, his eyes still tracing the lines of the picture in his hands.
-
Just after sunrise, it begins to rain.
Heavy drops fall from a sky that is barely darker than on any day before. They splatter on the ground, leaving dark traces in the dust, only visible for a moment before the whole ground is covered in water. Castiel and the others stand in the open doorway, under the roof, and watch, while Dean steps out into the rain a minute after it started, tilts his face toward the sky and allows the water to soak him through. He even left his jacket inside.
Little Thomas tries to do the same, but after one step away from the protection of the roof he ducks his head and runs back under the cover. After that, he only holds his hand into the rain and watches fascinated as it runs over his skin and drops off his fingers.
It’s only then that Dean realises that the boy has probably never seen the rain fall in his life.
As quickly as the rain came, it’s over. Altogether it can’t have lasted for more than five minutes. When it is over, Dean is standing in water almost up to his ankles, the dry earth unable to take it in this quickly, or at all.
Everyone is silent afterwards. Dean can see wonder and amazement in the eyes of the younger ones; the adults are harder to read, perhaps wondering what this might mean, or worried about their crops that have adapted to an environment with very little water.
At least the next hillside is far enough away that landslides are not an immediate risk.
Dean is shivering a little when he gets back inside. It’s still chilly, and now he’s soaked on top of it, yet he can’t bring himself to regret having run outside.
Perhaps this was the last rainfall of his life. It sure doesn’t seem to happen often.
“Once in a few years,” Ruth tells him when he asks. Her voice is quiet, as if scared of disturbing the silence that has fallen over the place. “The last one was… I don’t know. Tom was just a little kid, I bet he doesn’t even remember. I’ve seen a few, but they were never… never like this.”
Dean wonders if that means something. He’s glad they are not in the village of fanatical angel worshippers anymore – certainly, those would have seen this as a sign from God to take Dean and Cas and drown them in a puddle of mud.
“The wells will have filled up some,” Cas says, suddenly, too loud, as if he had to justify the rain to these people. A second later, Milon appears in the door, his hair wet like Dean’s.
“The Madam will see you now,” he says.
-
The Madam is living in the church. Dean is not exactly surprised – this is where the hunter who used to live here had his arsenal, after all. According to Cas, this is where Ennina Miller lived as well. Dean looks at the building and finds no echo of memories inside him, even though he must have been here before, as a child.
The church is in good condition, but then the whole town is. On the way there, Dean sees a couple of other people, staring curiously at them from the windows and doorways. They make no effort to hide their presence.
His shoes are soaked in muddy water. He’s forgotten how much he missed the rain until it fell down on him, but he’s also forgotten that walking through streets that are basically very shallow, dirty rivers is not awesome.
It’s cold. The sky is not much darker than normally, but it is darker, and there is a tension in the air; a kind of pressure that reminds Dean of the air just before a thunderstorm. There is no thunder, though. No distant flicker on the horizon. No wind. There’s nothing.
Inside, the church has obviously gone through some changes since it was used as a house of worship. The hall behind the large, strong doors, where Dean expected lines of wooden benches, is filled with furniture of the more comfortable kind. There are couches and coffee tables, the floor is covered with rugs. At the far end there is a fireplace that has obviously been added long after the building has been erected. A piano is standing near it, and on holders in various corners of the room Dean can see other kinds of instruments. Flutes and violins and however these large harp-things are called.
They are probably all priceless now. Whoever built them stopped the production a long time ago.
Dean wonders if they are still being used. It looks like it, and oddly enough, there is some comfort in that observation.
The walls are lined with shelves that contain not only, but mostly books. Altogether, the inside of the church looks like someone’s living room more than anything else.
And it’s empty. No old lady in a long gown with glitter and too heavy make up is waiting for them, nor is an old lady with a dark scarf wrapped around her head, doing her best to imitate an Evil Emperor she probably never heard of. There’s just the room, and Dean, Cas and Milon dropping mud onto the carpet.
“Well? Where is she?” Dean asks.
“In the back. That’s her chamber. She’s waiting for you.” Milon points to the other end of the room, and now Dean can make out the small door half hidden behind a curtain hanging from the high ceiling.
Their guide stays behind when Dean and Cas make for the door. “I’m not invited,” he says when Dean asks about it.
Behind the door a long, narrow staircase leads down into a basement. Dean and Cas share a look, and Dean’s fingers slide beneath his jacket to wrap around the hilt of his dagger. He’s a little surprised they were allowed to keep their weapons, anyway – and about how trusting everyone here seems to be. It kind of makes him expect, when he pushes open the door, to find Darth Vader waiting at the end of a long table.
Instead there is a young woman sitting on something that looks suspiciously like a throne. She’s sitting with one leg draped over the armrest, dangling a bare foot that is a lot cleaner than the last time Dean saw her.
Dean draws his knife anyway, out of surprise and because he knows she’s not only dangerous, but also completely batshit insane.
“Hey, Mickey!” Jena greets him with a grin. “Took you long enough to get here. I was beginning to get bored.”
NEXT
no subject
Date: 2014-02-27 05:33 am (UTC)Blue Earth is touching and also painful, especially since I know what's coming. It's almost better on re-read, just because of that; things showing a different light through a different facet. And of course, Jena knows how to make an entrance. XD
no subject
Date: 2014-03-17 05:43 pm (UTC)Blue Earth wasn't planned far in advance. It was a things that spontaneously happened, but I'm glad it did.