Chapter Text
I stepped out of the airport and the August humidity hit me like a wet blanket. It was so thick I let out an audible noise of disgust, and a woman standing beside me, one hand on a stroller and the other holding her phone to her ear, gave me a nod of commiseration. I wasn't used to it: the humidity or the casual acquaintance of a stranger. We had neither in the mountains. It had been years since I'd been back in the Midwest, and it was jarring, both familiar and foreign.
I dragged my suitcase behind me and settled with my back against a pillar. The terminal had dumped me out onto a chaotic mess of a pick-up line. Dozens of people clustered on the concrete slab, hailing cabs, calling relatives, coordinating with scheduled ride services. The latter was me; work had scheduled everything for this conference, but they hadn't anticipated the 2-hour flight delay. Neither had the taxi company, apparently. They were scrambling to get a driver to me, and of course were behind schedule.
Around me the crowd slowly diminished, leaving me both relieved and wary. I never enjoyed the chaos of a crowd, especially a stressed 9 p.m. post-flight crowd, but a woman alone at night was never cause for relief either.
My phone vibrated. Hoping for an update on the cab, I checked it, but it was only Sam.
—Saw your flight arrived. You make it to your hotel yet?
As if he hadn't already checked my shared location and didn't know exactly where I was.
—Waiting on my ride
—Still?
—Yes
A delay, then three dots coming and going as he responded.
—Let me know when you're safe.
I thought about retorting that I was safe, but put my phone away instead. Safe was relative. I didn't know that any of us were ever safe anymore. That bubble popped when Sam almost drowned last spring. In some ways it felt good to be the one being worried about, felt good to make him anxious for once.
The cab finally showed up around 9:30, and by then I was tired and hungry and irritable but forced myself to be pleasant to the (also surely hungry, tired and irritable) Middle Eastern man who pulled up, confirmed my name and destination, and lifted my luggage into the trunk for me. Then he was blissfully silent for the 30 minutes to the hotel, and I let my head fall back against the seat and watched the city fly by.
It was just after 10:00 by the time I crossed the threshold into my hotel room. I dropped my bag and wandered the hallway until I found ice and a vending machine, then flipped onto the bed and ate half a pack of peanut butter crackers before I crawled under the covers and turned off the light. I was almost asleep when my phone buzzed. I fumbled it off the nightstand. Sam.
—Saw you made it. You good? Love you.
—Yeah
I checked my alarm. I still had seven good hours, maybe 8, and really I could push it if I had to. I was in town for a librarians’ and researchers’ conference hosted by the University of Minnesota, but I wasn't actually presenting until Saturday. As a presenter, I'd been given free registration, so I'd been encouraged to go early and report back on what I learned. When my boss had first approached me, I’d been excited at the opportunity to travel, to get out and socialize with other people in the field, to present on the cool research we were doing in our own library. But as it had approached that interest had waned. I had been eager to leave this morning, but now that I was here, I just wanted to be home. Still, if I was late and missed the first sessions, no one would know and no one would care. I burrowed into the blankets. Distantly, I felt a pang of concern from Sam. I tamped it down and went to sleep.
Dean must have heard his sigh from the living room, because as soon as Sam set his phone down, he called, “She good?”
Sam poured himself a glass of water and left the kitchen. He wanted a beer, or maybe something stronger, but he had a pre-dawn start tomorrow and it wouldn't do him any good to be even remotely under-hydrated before his first solo hike since May. He joined his brother on the couch, where he was nursing a beer while watching the Rockies game. Dean raised an eyebrow. “Short phone call.”
“Wasn't a phone call,” Sam said. “Just a one-word confirmation.”
“Which you probably already confirmed on the map anyway. So?”
“I guess I'd hoped she'd want to talk to me before I went offline for a few days.”
Dean was silent a moment watching Nolan Arenado trot to First. “She's still not 100%, huh?”
“You noticed?”
Dean gave him a look that clearly said no shit.
Sam didn’t respond. It started back in May, not long after his accident. At first, she’d seemed okay, if a little more unwilling to be away from him. But once he started working the trails again, even when he was taking precautions and going with a partner, her mood had shifted. She had been at once both clingy and withdrawn, wanting him near and pushing him away. It had gotten worse since his first solo date approached; she insisted she was fine, that she wanted him to go, and yet she became less and less present.
“I'll check in on her,” Dean said.
Sam snorted. “If she'll let you. She's just as likely to screen your calls.”
“Nah. You're forgetting she likes me more than you,” he said with a grin. Then he grew solemn. “But seriously, Sam, she'll be okay once you're both back. She's just stressed about you being alone out there again. Can't say I blame her.”
That surprised him, a little. “Are you worried?”
Dean shrugged. “Logically? No. Instinctively? Yeah, a little. But it was unlikely to happen once, and I know it won't happen again. Y/N knows it too. Plus, you got Cas on deck if needed.”
It was simple, the way Dean made it sound, and yet Sam knew it was more than just nerves. The past few months, she’d lost weight, she slept too little or too much, was woken up with nightmares she tried to hide from him when in the past she'd have confided in him. But maybe Dean was right. Maybe they did need to just get past this weekend. He'd hoped she'd be home, that Dean or Lisa could physically check on her, have her over for dinner, surround her with family, but this weekend’s conference had been scheduled weeks before his solo patrol. He’d offered to switch it, but she had insisted it was fine, that she was fine. Now he regretted not doing it anyway, despite his need to be out in the woods where he could remember who he was and what he needed to do.
“Buck up, Sammy. I'll pick her up Saturday. You’re back late that night, right?”
“Yeah. I could be back sooner, her flight might be delayed again…if that’s the case, I’d rather do it.”
“We’ll play it by ear.” Dean stood and turned off the game. He clapped Sam on the shoulder. “She'll be okay. Get some sleep. You be careful, all right?” Sam walked him out, glad he had Dean to rely on, and wishing he didn't have to for this.
I was slow moving the next morning, so slow I didn't just snooze my alarm but shut it off completely. I slipped into a sort of half-doze, aware that I should move but lacking the motivation until my phone blared again, a different tone this time. I blinked at the caller ID, recognized Dean's name and answered.
“Morning sunshine!”
I groaned. “You know, I liked you a lot better before you became a morning person.”
“You know what they say, early bird…whatever. You're an hour ahead of me! Why aren’t you up?”
“What are you, my mother?” I turned on the light and got up, began the process of sorting through my clothes for something to wear. It was 9:45. I’d slept ten hours and felt like the walking dead. I’d also missed the shuttle to campus and would have to walk. I pulled back the curtains and looked outside. It was pouring. I sighed.
“You gonna make it?”
“Uncertain. Did you need something?”
“A guy needs an excuse to call his sister-in-law?”
“I know Sam put you up to this.”
“You don't know that.”
“Okay. I don't.”
He was quiet on the other end of the line as I dug in my suitcase and pulled out a pair of dark jeans and a black sweater. “Listen. Sam's going to be fine.”
My pulse quickened. “I need to get going.”
He started to say something, stopped and said instead, “Yeah okay. I’ll talk to you later?”
“If you call me everyday, I swear to God I'll block your number. All your numbers.”
He knew it wasn’t an idle threat and I heard him chuckle. “Alright. Noted. But my offer stands if you need anything.”
“Bye, Dean.”
I hung up and noticed a missed call and voicemail from Sam a few hours ago. There was a text too, saying he loved me, that he’d see me in a few days, couldn’t wait to hear about the conference. I assumed the voicemail said the same, but I didn’t want to hear his voice, didn’t think I could stomach it. I managed to shovel the rest of last night's crackers into my mouth as I contemplated how to salvage my morning. I'd miss the keynote. I felt remotely disappointed. A part of me had been excited about that, even though I'd been largely uninterested in the conference as a whole. It was a mythology professor speaking on the immortality of myths, the recursive nature of storytelling, the importance of preservation, with a focus on the Orpheus myth. In a conference that largely spoke to some of the drier sides of research, it sounded refreshing.
But that was a bust. I got dressed, brushed my teeth, threw my hair into what could pass as an intentionally messy bun rather than a lackluster attempt at grooming, and then called the ride service I’d used last night to see if I could get a lift to campus. The rain was relentless, and thunder had started to rumble. I wasn’t going to walk even a few blocks.
They told me they could send a driver in fifteen. I hung up and rearranged some of my belongings, taking my laptop from my backpack and plugging it in, replacing it with a notebook and pen, my phone charger and a few snacks to get me through the day. Then I went downstairs to wait in the lobby, regretting that I didn’t have rain boots or an umbrella. I hoped Sam was having better weather, instantly regretted the thought as it sent my mind back to the rain last May, and fought not to wander down that path. I cracked open the empathy a moment, just enough for a peek, and found Sam content and at ease. I relaxed, then tightened the latch and pushed him out again.
The ride pulled up under the porte-cochère and I climbed into the back. “Thank you,” I said. “I missed the shuttle.”
“No problem.” The driver pulled away from the curb, then had to raise his voice to be heard over the drumming of the rain. “Do you have a specific place you need to go on campus?”
“Um, yeah.” I pulled out my phone to double check. “The Student Union.”
He nodded. He looked vaguely familiar, and I wondered if it were possible he was the same driver I’d had last night. I’d been so tired and distracted that I hadn’t paid much attention. But then, surely, he’d have mentioned it. Unless maybe that just wasn’t his style or wasn’t worth remarking on in the taxi industry. Still, something nagged at me, like I’d met him before.
“I picked you up from the airport last night, Mrs. Campbell,” he said, startling me. He glanced at me in the rearview mirror.
“I thought you looked familiar.”
He nodded, turned his attention to the road and made a left, winding through a subdivision. “I thought the same thing.”
I offered a polite, if hollow, chuckle. I hoped he’d read it correctly and drop the conversation, but he continued. “Your name threw me off initially.”
What? That didn’t make any sense. I’d used the same name both times. I started to feel uneasy and glanced out the window, hoping to see campus materializing out of the downpour. It was a short distance from the hotel, one I could have walked in fairer weather, and it occurred to me that it should surely be in view by now.
“But then I remembered you wouldn’t have had the same name, and if you did, you’d be using an alias. It wasn’t hard to make the connection between Campbell and Winchester.”
My heart stopped. I met his eyes in the mirror, sure they’d be black, positive that somehow I’d found the one demon taxi driver in the world. But they were brown, human eyes. “Who are you?”
“I helped you, once, remember? Five years ago, in the city. I got you into Hell.”
And then I did remember—that frigid Minneapolis night, climbing into the back of a taxi with Dean, prepared to do whatever it took to take a backdoor into Hell to free Sam’s soul. I knew why he looked familiar now. He wasn’t a demon. He was a reaper. “Ajay,” I said, the name appearing, clear as day, from my memory.
“There it is. You remember.” He was still driving, and now I knew for certain he wasn’t taking me to the university. Dread began to creep into my senses. “Where are we going?”
He ignored my question. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m in a bit of a predicament and could use some help.”
“Help? What kind of help do you need from me?” Could I open the door and jump out? The risk seemed worth it. I could run, get somewhere crowded maybe. But then, this was a reaper. He didn’t need to run to catch me.
“I need to get someone out of Hell.”
I gaped at him. It was absurd and unexpected and yet startlingly familiar. “Why would I want to go to Hell?”
“I remember asking you the same thing once.”
“That was different.”
“Was it? You asked me to help you retrieve a soul that didn’t belong there. I’m asking you the same thing.”
I shook my head. I refused to entertain the idea, even to myself, and bore down on the memories of Hell that threatened to surface. “I can’t. I’m not a hunter anymore.”
“You owe me a favor,” he said. He’d turned onto an on ramp, was accelerating onto the highway as if anticipating my escape plans. “That was the deal.”
One day, you’ll owe me a favor. It had seemed so innocuous at the time, like a debt that would never have to be paid. We hadn’t had a choice, would have paid far more for a chance to get Sam back. It had been easy to accept those terms. They’d been so inconsequential that I’d forgotten, and I was sure Dean had, too, in the years of domesticity that had followed. “I can’t,” I repeated, and my voice was small.
Ajay sighed, clearly annoyed. “I suppose I could track down Dean instead, then. He’s a man of his word, at least.” I bit my tongue to keep myself from protesting. I didn’t want Dean pulled in anymore than I wanted myself pulled in. “Or maybe…your husband. Make him return the favor of his resurrected soul.”
My response wasn’t audible, but it might as well have been. He could see my protest projected clearly across my face. He nodded, satisfied. Through the windshield I could see the Minneapolis skyline, and I realized where he was taking us. I could picture so clearly that alley, with its wild graffiti and the blue door that opened into Hell. I felt queasy thinking about crossing that threshold again. We’d worked so hard to extract ourselves from that world of monsters and demons, had established ourselves in the civilian world as if we’d always been a part of it. I would’ve done anything to not take that step backwards.
“There’s a girl in Hell who shouldn’t be there,” Ajay was saying. I wondered how that was different from any other soul locked in the pit, or why this one in particular mattered. My memory was fuzzy when it came to reapers. I didn’t think they were concerned with where souls went, just that they left when their time came. “Not a soul, but a living girl. Crowley has been making…for lack of a better word, shady deals.”
Crowley . I had a sudden image of him the last time I saw him, scrambling on his hands and knees to find the Horsemen’s rings as a battle ranged around us, then backing away from Judith as she stalked toward him, his eyes fearful in that last breath before he vanished. That had been only moments before I’d felt Sam slipping from me, before we’d both almost been torn apart from the inside. I shivered.
“This girl, for example. He struck a deal with their parents before she was born, promised them that once their ten years were up, he’d keep their daughter safe.”
Safe is relative , I thought, and could imagine how it played out: a couple, desperate for health or money or whatever it would take to get by, interpreting safe as with her relatives and not beside the King of Hell . It was just like Crowley, to collect a souvenir, to keep a child like a living doll in his throne room.
The car was slowing down. Ajay had exited the highway and was now weaving through city streets. I watched gray buildings pass, people ducking their heads against the wind, struggling with their umbrellas to stay dry. “I don’t have any supplies.”
“I can offer you a weapon.”
It was happening so quickly and I felt ill-prepared. A gateway to Hell was staring me in the face and I wondered how I had gone from dragging my feet on my way to a librarians’ conference to this in such a short time. And yet, agreeing to go to Hell felt less like a valiant rescue mission than a surrender to the inevitable. Of course this was happening. Five years was more than we could have hoped for. At least this way, it could happen to only me, and not all three of us. If I didn’t come back, if I was killed or trapped for eternity, at least I wouldn’t be left to grieve again.
Ajay pulled into an alley and there we were, staring through the rain-streaked windshield at that ominous blue door. He turned off the car, then reached beneath his seat and procured an oblong object wrapped in a gray cloth. He passed it back to me. “You’ll find this useful,” he said. I took it and pulled back the cloth, revealing an angel blade. I almost dropped it in my surprise. “I want that back, so don’t lose it.” I almost asked where he’d gotten it, then decided I didn’t want to know.
I set it on the seat and then opened my backpack. I dumped out everything that was appropriate for a conference and would serve no purpose in Hell and shoved it under the seat in front of me. I kept the snacks, unsure how long I’d be gone, and my water bottle, and then I slid the angel blade inside. If it was like before, when Ajay had taken us to rescue Sam, I’d have twenty-four hours to make it back. I could be back tomorrow morning, and no one would even know I’d been gone. Sam was off-grid, and Dean knew I was screening his calls; if he happened to check my location, it would still show me in Minneapolis. No reason to arouse suspicion. No reason for anyone to risk their lives charging after me.
And if I didn’t make it back?
I reached back under the seat for my phone. I adjusted the battery settings—if it stayed charged long enough, their search would eventually lead them to Ajay, and he could tell them what happened. Whatever they did after that, well…I wouldn’t be able to feel it anymore, at least.
I almost put the phone back under the seat, but something, common sense, or regret, or fear, maybe, gave me pause. I opened the notes app, stared at the blinking cursor for a moment, and then hastily typed a message before putting it away. Then, as ready as I was going to be, I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the door. “Let’s go.”
“Are you sure?” Ajay said, sounding surprised as he followed me. “The Winchesters have the reputation. Maybe it’s better if—”
“Fuck you, I am a Winchester.” I led the way toward the blue door. To scrutinize my actions would be my undoing. I knew it was stupid, to agree to this, to go alone without any kind of preparation. I observed my reckless lack of logic as if I were a spectator unable to intervene, not an active agent. I couldn’t allow myself to stop myself; I didn’t want to go to Hell and yet I didn’t want to stay here, where nothing felt the way it had been in months. This seemed manageable, a concrete problem I could solve, a clear direction instead of wandering in the fog I’d been in for so long.
We reached the door and Ajay took my hand. The walls shook. The paint smeared into rivers of watercolors. I had to shut my eyes against the light that encased the door, growing so brilliant and so hot I thought it would sear me alive as it drew us in.
And then it was gone, and I was standing beside Ajay, not in the red-brick prison I remembered, but in a cold, gray forest. The air was stale. I turned to Ajay, alarmed.
“Purgatory,” he said. “Crowley shut down the old gate after last time. You’ll have to find the backdoor from here.”
“Purgatory?” I took in our surroundings. We were in a clearing surrounded by trees that were reminiscent of the Pacific Northwest, yet everything was dry and still. Several feet away lay a body, its head severed from its shoulders.
“Follow the stream to where three trees meet as one. Where they meet, there are rocks. Between the rocks is the door. Meet me back here in 24-hours, with the girl,” he said. “And move quickly. This place is full of monsters.”
Without further explanation, without giving me a chance to formulate a single question, he was gone in a quick burst of light, leaving me alone in a hostile wilderness. I felt suddenly exposed, as if dozens of eyes were peering at me from the trees. I pulled the blade from my bag, and with the stream to my right, began walking.