Chapter Text
Brennan
Brennan pushed her back into Booth and pulled his arm around her body. She nuzzled against him and kissed his arm. He groaned a bit, more asleep than awake.
“Shhh,” she whispered, kissing his arm again, “go back to sleep, Booth, we have a long day today.”
“Uh-uh,” he protested, rolling over and fully pressing her to his chest and stomach, “no chance,” he kissed her neck and a shiver went down her spine, “you caught me riiiight in the middle of a dream,” he kissed her again and moved his hands down to her hips.
Brennan pulled him tighter around herself, she felt alive and electric, and Booth made her feel so safe and sexy and loved.
“Mmm, tell me all about it,” she said, rolling over and putting her hands to his face.
“I can show you, if you’d like, but you had the cutest–-”
Both Booth’s and Brennan’s phones went off at the same time, interrupting them. Brennan rolled over to answer and Booth grabbed at her in vain, “No, no, let it go to voicemail–”
“Shh,” she scolded as she answered.
They still hadn’t fully disclosed their relationship. Angela knew, of course, and they had just told Sweets. Today was the big day to announce to the rest of the Jeffersonian team, and then they were to meet with the deputy director tomorrow morning. While it had been extra work to keep the secret, Brennan liked the secrecy so far. An additional benefit had been that when they received calls to come out to a crime scene, they would pretend that Booth was picking Brennan up and use the extra twenty minutes for themselves.
But five minutes later, they were in Booth’s SUV and on their way to the scene, pleasant sex dreams a vanishing memory. A sitting senator, along with others, had apparently been murdered and they were to get to the crime scene immediately.
“Okay, Collins, keep everyone out of the scene,” Booth barked into his phone on the drive, “I’ve got Bones with me now and Cam is meeting us there. Let the squints do their thing, okay? Make sure to coordinate with the PR team and see how this will be handled.”
“Yeah, Booth, we're all over that," Collins answered, "it’s just, I’ve never seen anything like this. The media is gonna--just get here.”
Booth pulled up just as Dr. Saroyan was arriving.
“You two got here fast,” she said.
“Hey, when the deputy says jump…” Booth answered, opening the door for Brennan and Dr. Saroyan, “shall we?”
Brennan came around the corner and froze. She heard Booth let out a shaky breath. She was used to grisly things. Bone, muscle, brain, none of it bothered her. As long as proper precautions were taken, there was nothing in brain matter or shards of bone that could harm you. At the end of the day, the putrid mess of bodily fluids could be washed away. But the carnage before her was already wearing against Brennan. It stopped her cold, her breath caught in her chest. A few months ago she'd have said the violence on display had merely caused her to secrete excess adrenaline, that was what led to the air feeling charged. But now she knew there were other potential causes.
There were eight bodies in total. Two, including the Senator, were seated in the middle of the scene with their eyes missing. The other six had been dismembered and then reassembled, arranged in peculiar ways. Of the six bodies, three were fresh. They still had soft tissue. Given the blood on scene, it seemed probable they had been murdered on site. The other three bodies were her specialty: bones. She counted three skulls and three pelvic bones. Rib cages and spines had been pulled apart, everything arranged in a tableaux.
“Holy Gormogon,” Dr. Saroyan whispered.
“Yeah,” Booth answered.
“Despite my discomfort with assumptions, I concur that this appears to be a ritual of some kind,” Brennan said. She pushed down the fear, something she'd never felt at a crime scene before and focused on what she could ascertain.
"There’s obviously some significance in the arrangement of the six bodies, they’re facing the four cardinal directions,” Brennan pointed.
“Okay,” Dr. Saroyan said, “let’s get photos of everything. Every single detail."
"Seeley, I want Hodgins swabbing for particulates before we move anything," Dr. Saroyan continued, "I’ll do an initial exam here, but obviously we'll the bodies moved to the Jeffersonian. Dr. Brennan, anything else you need?”
Brennan looked closely at the Senator. She checked the other intact body as well. The eyes weren’t missing, they’d been burned from the sockets.
Burned out eyes.
For the past five weeks she’d spent every spare second researching everything that Dean Winchester had mentioned. And multiple sources on the entities known as "angels" agreed: when “unworthy vessels” looked upon the “true visage of a seraph” their eyes were set ablaze.
“Dr. Brennan? Anything else you want from the scene?”
She looked to Booth but he was examining the skeletal arm that had been attached at the lateral meniscus of one of the fleshy victims.
“Unclear," she answered, "we'll need, we'll need to keep the space pristine. There may be significance to every detail here but we don't know what we're looking at yet. For now, let’s keep entry strictly limited and post someone here until we finalize all analysis, I want everything intact.”
Brennan leaned closer to examine the other body, seated across from the Senator. There were copious amounts of blood on her hands and clothes. Brennan could smell sulfur. Her research on that was clear, sulfur means demons.
“They’re forming a symbol,” Dr. Saroyan said.
“What?” Booth asked.
“Look, the bodies. The way they are arranged. It makes a symbol.”
Brennan followed Dr. Saroyan's gaze. She was right, it was a symbol. It looked familiar, something she'd come across in her recent research, but she couldn't immediately place it.
Uncomfortable with the feeling of uncertainty, she refocused internally. Her normal procedure for a homicide was to determine the identity of the victims and determine cause of death. That she could certainly do. But what was the procedure when the crime scene indicated that heavenly entities had interrupted demonic entities?
"Okay," Booth said, "Sweets is gonna go nuts for this."
“While I concede that Dr. Sweets provides useful context for some homicides, including those involving ritual, I'd like to contact a colleague as well. From Kyoto University," she said as she snapped photographs, "He is very respected in his academic writings on ritualized killings. Well, that’s been his focus the last ten years or so, his prior field of study was pre-agrarian societies north of Hieizan, which was interesting but not exactly groundbreaking. His work in the occult, while sensational, is obviously less objective. Still, its utility in homicide cases can’t be denied. Of course, every anthropologist is trying to assist on criminal investigations now, no doubt in part thanks to the success of our work, but–”
“Bones?” Booth interrupted, “The Kyoto guy?”
“Right, yes, I’d um, I’d like to make a call. His focus is Eastern mysticism and occult practices but he may know someone with similar expertise who could provide some insight, perhaps who can assist Sweets.”
Booth looked at her and titled his head. She took that to mean he suspected she was only being partially honest about her Kyoto contact. But they'd agreed not to discuss these things, and until Booth told her otherwise, she would honor that.
Booth shrugged and said, "Yeah, I'm sure Sweets could use the help."
Twelve hours later, they stood outside the departures gate.
A phone call to Professor Sasaki and a review of her notes had persuaded her that this conversation couldn't wait. She needed to get a message to the Winchesters immediately.
“I don’t like it, you flying off alone,” Booth whispered as he kissed her.
“I know, I know," she tried to phrase her words carefully, "and if you've...decided you'd like to come with me, you can. But the news will be out shortly about the Senator's murder. It will be hard to deny the ritualized nature of the homicide. I'm sure the FBI will place a higher priority on the actual crime scene over a conversation with a civilian.”
Booth looked down and Brennan saw his hand move to the cross he work on a chain around his neck.
“I-, look, are you sure it's safe to meet with this guy? Maybe you can start with a phone call?” Booth asked.
Brennan smiled, “No, I think it's better to discuss this case in person. If he has pertinent insight I'll invite him to return to with me. But, it's good for you to stay. I want you to oversee the transfer of the bodies to my lab. I'll want to start work right away when I’m back.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, as brushed her hair away from her neck then kissed it. “Just be safe, okay? If I don’t hear back from you I’m sending every local cop in the state to his doorstep-I'm not kidding.”
Brennan laughed and kissed him back.
"That seems like an unethical waste of resources and abuse of federal authority. But I've come to understand that you don't mean it literally. I love you too, Booth.”
Sam
Sam’s phone vibrated, “Hi Ruby,” he anwered.
Dean rolled his eyes and turned away.
“Got an early birthday gift for you, Sam,” he could practically hear her smirking, “got a line on a very powerful weapon. Something that could kill Lilith.”
“Seriously?” Sam asked, “Something better than the knife?”
“Way better. Demon urban legend? Lucifer forged a weapon back when he was still doing his heavenly duties. After the fall he used it as a scepter in hell and could wipe out demons by the dozen, just a point-and-POOF type of thing.”
“And what—it’s just been MIA for the last ten thousand years?”
“Pretty much,” she answered, “I still don’t know if it’s true, but I got wind of some frantic digging going on up in Oregon. Allegedly a lost, ancient battle-site. Some fight at the Dawn of Man between angels and demons. Lilith has a team up there now, surveying and digging.”
“Digging? Okay, send me the location and anything else you’ve got. We’re on our way.”
Sam turned to Dean.
“What the hell does she want?”
“She has something for us. Lilith has a crew looking for a legendary weapon. One that can vaporize any demon.”
“Good for Lilith,” Dean said, sitting down and picking up a drink.
“Dean, maybe you didn’t understand me. This weapon could kill Lilith. And it’s way more powerful than the knife, by the sound of it, it could take out hordes of demons.”
Dean didn’t move. Sam could see him trying to tame his anger before answering, and Sam felt his own anger rising.
“So, what’s the plan? Go to, what was it, Oregon? And stake out a demonic archeology site, then swoop in, kill the demons and take off with Lilith’s new toy?”
“Pretty much, yeah,” Sam’s voice was hard and angry.
“Seems like Ruby could do that without us,” Dean stood, “so I’m just wondering why when she says jump you’re so desperate to hop-to?”
“Dean,” Sam’s voice was low but shaking with anger, “the way to stop Lilith, the way to save the seals, is to kill her. I will do whatever I have to to kill her.”
“Yeah,” Dean stepped right into Sam’s space and it took an effort not to shove him, “and you really don’t see the problem with that, do you? A demon is pulling you this way and that and you are all to happy to go along because, hey, you wanted to go there anyway. If you think she's just being helpful, you don't know what they are, not really!”
Sam couldn't hold back his anger, “You don’t wanna talk about hell? Okay, fine! I can’t make you, but you don’t get to hold it over me. I know what demons are, Dean! They killed our mother, our father, my girlfriend--they have tried to manipulate and control me at every point in my life!! I know when I’m being played! I’ve already told you that Ruby saved me when she had no reason to! I’ve worked alongside her, and yeah, I trust her as far as you can trust a demon.”
“You can never trust a demon, Sam! What is not connecting here, man?! Are you really this blind? This set on revenge?"
Just then Dean’s phone rang.
“It’s Bobby,” he said.
Sam took two steps back and tried to physically shake off some of his anger. Bobby's call may have been the only thing that stopped them from coming to blows.
“Yeah, Bobby, got Sam here, too,” Dean answered.
“Hey, Bobby,” Sam added.
“Is there anything you two want to tell me?”
They looked at each other, at a loss.
“Like what?” Dean asked.
“Like how come I got a pretty FBI forensic anthropologist sitting in my kitchen asking me if I know how to get a message to Dean Winchester?”
It was the last thing Sam expected. Dean hadn't told him everything about his conversation with Dr. Brennan, but it didn't seem like the kind of thing she want to follow up on, at least not in a non-arresting way.
“Oh,” Dean said.
“Can she hear us?” Sam asked.
“No, idjit, it's not my first day,” Bobby answered.
“And you made sure she’s not a demon?” Sam asked.
“Can someone start explaining things to me like I’m not an idiot?”
“Temperance Brennan is the bones-scientist-chick, the one who was there when I woke up,” Dean said.
“Yeah, I figured that much out myself, thanks. Why the hell is she in my kitchen?”
“Because last month Dean tied her to a chair, told her monsters and angels were real, and then kissed her,” Sam said.
Dean shot him a look and Sam shrugged. It wasn’t punching him in his sanctimonious face but it did let off some of the steam.
“You ass!” Bobby said.
“Bobby, I didn’t say anything about you or–”
“A hunter friend from Japan gave her my name. She showed up here a five minutes ago and asked if I could help her find you morons. She just left a crime scene of, and I quote 'a homicide that appears to be ritualistic sacrifice possibly preformed by demons, with other supernatural entities interrupting the murders.’"
“Okay,” Dean said, shooting Sam a weary look, “put her on speaker.”
They heard Bobby open his front door and walk back inside.
“You sure about this?” Sam asked, "Could be a trap if the FBI found out about your meeting."
Dean shrugged.
“Hello? Dean Winchester?” the doctor’s voice came through.
“Hey, doc, what’s the haps?” Dean said, and Sam was a little impressed with how casual he sounded.
“Well first of all, I just want to assure you that me reaching out like this is entirely professional, it's nothing personal at all and I have to insist that if we do meet in person again there's no physical intimacy of any kind, agreed?"
"Yeah, uh, sorry about that, but, is there a point to this call? Or are you just stalling until your boyfriend and the rest of the SEAL team can bust through my windows?"
"No, this isn't a-a set up, Booth doesn't even know I'm here. Well, he knows I'm in South Dakota but he thinks I'm speaking to someone with academic credentials relevant to our case. Can I speak freely in front of your colleague?” she asked.
“Yeah, Bobby's a hunter, pretty much seen and heard it all,” Dean said.
“There were angels and demons at my crime scene,” she said flatly.
“What?” Bobby's voice came through.
“You’re sure?” Dean asked, standing up.
“Yes.”
“How can you tell?” Sam asked.
“There were three fresh bodies–recent deaths, probably killed on scene. They had been disarticulated and connected with three sets of skeletal remains in an arrangement of sorts. I've yet to determine the origin of those remains, or even how many individuals they originate from. The way they were arranged, it, it appears to be a symbol. Something I've come across in my recent studies.”
“Okay, I’m with you that it sounds occult-y but where are you seeing angels and demons?”
“Well, there were a further two bodies, who also died at the scene,” Brennan paused a moment. "They didn't seem to be part of the symbol though, they um, they may have been the ones to perform it, given the blood on their clothes and hands. But...I noticed they smelled of sulfur and their eyes...the eyes were burned out of the sockets."
Sam looked at Dean, who had closed his eyes and pushed the phone into his forehead in agitation.
"I’ve read that sulfur means demons, and the eyes–”
“Yeah,” Dean said, “yeah, we’ve uh, we’ve seen it before with angels.”
“Dr. Brennan,” Sam cut in, “where and when did this happen?”
“In DC, last night. And one of the demons...it appears that it was possessing a Senator.”
“Great,” Sam said. They were never going to be able to con their way into a senator’s murder scene.
“Dean," Brennan's voice shook ever so slightly, "when we met before you said that demons are trying to break seals, and unleash…”
“Unleash Satan, yeah,” Dean took another pull from his beer.
“I, I did find a few sources that corroborate that belief. I had accepted this was a legitimate theology of those entities but had rejected that it was actually happening."
"So," Dean said, "you found the lore but hoped it was just a demon Sunday school story?"
"Initially. But a colleague shared some texts with me, Canaanite inscriptions. They were particularly descriptive about some of the seals that keep Lucifer in place. And, what I saw this morning--”
“Wait,” Sam said, “are you saying—”
“I think this ritual, whatever it was, was to break a seal. The bodies formed a symbol, one that was included in the aforementioned texts. And they were facing the cardinal directions. And last night–”
“Was a new moon,” Bobby said.
“An empty sky, yes,” Brennan said. "I don’t know if what the demons tried to do worked or if angels stopped them, or if I’m just having some kind of psychotic break myself, which as the most likely scenario is actually quite comforting...but I thought you should know. Those texts I mentioned, here, I have copies," Sam heard her shuffling paper and handing it off to Bobby, "it says that was one of three seals to be broken, on the hill of the king, before the full moon returns."
"So you think there may be two more seals that could be broken in the next two weeks? In the same area?" Sam asked.
"These texts she's got, definitely talking about breaking seals," Bobby said.
"I am sorry to have shown up at your doorstep like this, Mr. Singer, but Professor Sasaki said that if I was trying to track down a hunter in the United States that Bobby Singer of Sioux Falls was a good place to start.”
“Wait, wait,” Dean said, “why exactly are you calling me, doc?”
“Because, you…do this. You were the one who told me about this, so now you know what I do and you can, I don’t know, stop it.”
Sam sighed, he knew where this was going.
“Lady, in a couple of weeks you’ve apparently become one of the leading experts on broken seals, right behind Bobby there. You got all the power and resources of the FBI and your fancy lab, but you use it to track me down to come solve this problem for you?”
“I’m a scientist, Dean. I've done some research since we spoke and I can understand there are metaphysical and theoretical–”
“It’s not theory! Hell on earth is not a goddamn thought experiment! It’s the goal of hell right now. They want to bring about the apocalypse. So why don’t you go on back to DC, get that boy scout of yours, and actually do something!”
Sam shot Dean an admonishing look.
“Look Dr. Brennan," Sam put on his puppy-dog voice to try to soften Dean's message, "I get that this is all new to you, but Dean’s not wrong. We’re not the Justice League or something. We’re just a couple of guys who know about this stuff. I’m glad you called and we’ll do what we can, but, this is a battle on all fronts. I mean if, if–”
“If you can hear the music, you better start dancing,” Dean cut in, “otherwise, go ahead. Go back to your lab, go back and enjoy the next few months, because that might be all there is.”
Dean’s voice was hard and angry and Sam knew him well enough to hear that it was choked with grief.
“I--the FBI isn't in the business of hunting demons. I can't, I don’t know what to say, I didn't expect that you'd–” Dr. Brennan stammered.
“Go," Dean dismissed her, "go home. Maybe we can stop this thing, maybe not. If a year from now you don’t see a lake of fire out your window then, congratulations, you're probably safe. Until the next apocalypse, anyways. Thanks for the help. Bobby?”
“Yeah?”
“Call us back, we'll be on the road,” Dean hung up.
Sam waited a moment for Dean to collect himself.
“Seriously, dude? A little harsh.”
“Five weeks, Sammy. Five weeks! She's known about demons a month and is already preemptively tracking down seals? That's more than we've be able to do! That lady got her hands on fucking Canaanite writings about the apocalypse, she found Bobby, and now she wants us to, what? Walk into the middle of a viper pit of Feds and government agents? Captain America can't use that book we gave him to help us out and stop a seal or two? Fucking Castiel can't throw us a bone?!”
Dean drained the rest of his beer and grabbed another from the motel fridge.
“Yeah,” Sam wasn’t going to argue. Dean had a point, anyway. “Yeah, I get it. So, what? Forget the seals? Hit Oregon? See if we can track down that weapon?”
“What are you deaf or just stupid? We have to go to DC,” Dean said, “we know demons were there and if the angels haven't stopped them, there might be more damage to be done.”
Sam tried to control his anger, “I get that, I really do, but like you said it’s gonna be wall-to-wall feds. We can’t get near that. You may have scolded her enough to at least try to stop the other seals.”
“Educated amateurs are still amateurs.”
“Fine, but we have a real shot with the weapon. Who knows what we’re walking into in DC.”
“Oh we have a real shot with the weapon? The weapon we never even heard a rumor of before a friendly demon calls you up to fill you in?!" spit was flying everywhere.
Sam grit his teeth and took his lickings. There was no talking to Dean like this, he just had to let Dean rant and rage and wear himself out.
Dean went on, "Located on the opposite side of the country, might I add, from what appears to be a major play? Come on, Sam! And right now there is no weapon! Just a crew of Lilith’s looking for one!”
Dean was right. It’d be one thing if the demons had found something, that might be worth the risk of sacrificing another seal or two, but they couldn’t give away an honest shot at stopping a seal on a rumor and a demon urban legend.
Sam shook his head and walked out the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To get some stuff for DC. Call Bobby back. Maybe he can soften Dr. Brennan up a bit so she'll work with us once we get there,” he shouted back to Dean, slamming the motel door behind him.
The air was cool. Sam watched the sky. The stars in the Sandhills really were breathtaking, it almost made him respect the angels again. That was assuming they had anything to do with creation. Sam let his anger simmer a moment, then released it as best he could. Dean was being a whiny little bitch but he wasn’t wrong. On either account. It did suck that someone like Brennan wanted them to come clean it all up, and it did suck that she was right and they probably should.
“Yeah, Ruby,” he said as she answered his call, “change of plans, Dean and I need to head to DC.”
“What? Why?”
“Looks like some demons just tried to break a seal. Angels may have stopped them but we have to be sure. There are more seals to be broken there, apparently.”
“Well, whoop-de-fucking-do, Sam, demons are out there breaking seals left and right, I’m talking about something that can kill Lilith.”
“Yeah, something legendary that they haven’t found yet.”
“Look, you already know what I think. I think that you’re the only one who can kill Lilith. I think that’s what makes you so special and terrifying to her, and I think we need to keep working on that part–”
“Ruby–”
“And I know, I know you don’t like the how, so I’m trying to offer some other options here, Sam. You don’t want to flex your psychic abilities, you don’t want to juice anymore? Then we gotta find another way. This scepter could be that, if you're willing to trust me a bit here.” She sounded hurt, which surprised Sam.
“Look, Ruby, it’s not that I think…you know that I trust you,” he said.
“You got a funny way of showing it.”
“I do, Ruby, and if there’s another way to stop Lilith, I’d rather that.”
“Then come to Oregon!” she hissed.
“I will, just not tonight. Can you keep an eye on the situation? Let us know if anything changes?”
He heard her sigh and he couldn’t help but think about her. How warm she felt in his arms and how she made him feel. Yeah, her blood made him feel powerful. But having someone who saw that power and helped him carve it out? He’d never had anything like that before. Not his dad, certainly not his brother. Jess loved him but she didn’t know him, not really. Ruby saw the thing that made Sam feel tainted, and she saw how it made him strong.
“Yeah,” her voice softened, “of course.”
Sam hung up and checked his pocket. He still had a small vial of Ruby’s blood. He wasn’t going to take it. He didn’t need it. But it helped to know it was there.