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Watching a stage performance of my life has got to be one of the most fucked up things I’ve ever seen…and I’ve seen fucked up.
Gotta admit though, those girls put on a good show. Even if they did believe Chuck’s crap gospels over my very accurate, rapidly delivered timeline of events following my up close and personal introduction to Hell Hounds (aka Carver Edlund’s last book). Not that I wanted Chuck to be back in the publishing game, but c’mon. Knight of Hell? I don’t care who you are. That’s awesome.
I mean, ok, evil.
But still awesome.
Still, the girls had rocked the music choices, and they built a replica of Baby! I could appreciate that. Cardboard and duct tape didn’t live up to the sexy gleam and thunder of the real deal but gotta respect the nod.
My fondness for those theater nerds grew as I watched them still performing. Still completing their vision, even after being scared out of their minds, facing a freaking goddess and never missing a step. Bobby would be proud. Hell, he’d be tapping his toes to the beat.
Solving a case, ganking a goddess and getting a round of applause for it? Not a bad day’s work. It was nice to be back in the game. Making a difference. Doing something.
Which brought me right back to reality. I sighed.
“I guess we can go back to staring at motel room walls,” I said.
I tried to make my voice as neutral as possible. Sammy didn’t need my attitude. He was trying to do what he thought was right, just like always, and I had certainly spent my time AWOL recently.
Of course, it was one of the only times I had ever spent AWOL if you don’t count Hell and Purgatory, which I don’t. Everyone deserves a little R&R. Even if it includes black eyes and hustling pool with the King of Hell.
Better excuse than finding a dog anyway.
“You know what, Dean? You were right staying cooped up isn’t us. We need—“
Before the real Sam could finish saying whatever it that he thought we needed, his words were echoed by the imposter across the stage, wearing hair that was remarkably accurate and a smirk that was not.
“We need to be back on the road, Dean. Doing what we do best.”
Damn straight, girl.
“What is that?” asked Sam.
“It’s the…uh…BM scene,” I said.
“Bowel movement scene?” Sam frowned in confusion.
“Shh! No…just listen,” I urged, my eyes trained on the girls in front of me.
“You’re right, Sammy. Out on the road, just the two of us,” agreed my female doppelganger.
“The two of us against the world,” said fake Sam.
“What she said.” Sam agreed, and I glanced up in surprise.
We had been round this argument time and time again. I didn’t know what changed Sam’s mind, but maybe something about seeing our life laid bare had brought us both back to our base. Home. Family. Hunting things. Saving people. The family business. Everything we had fought for and against, wrapped up in a message that inspired a group of teenage girls to put on fake beards and write songs about our fucked-up childhood.
I hated those Supernatural books. Hated that people were entertained by the most painful parts of my life. The Hell, both figurative and literal that I had been through. And I hadn’t been kidding when I threatened Chuck. If he managed to publish again I was going to knock his fucking head off those scrawny shoulders.
But there was something…something I couldn’t put words to, in the reaction of those who read those stupid books. Who were inspired, who still, despite Chuck spilling both the good and bad in vibrant black and white, saw us as something worthwhile. Something that…I would never admit this…gave them hope. How that could be true when I felt like I was bumbling from one mistake to the next, I didn’t know. I couldn’t understand what people saw.
Didn’t they see in those words that we had caused so many of the problems we just barely managed to stop. Things that we very nearly didn’t stop? How many people needlessly died? Did the ones we save outnumber the ones we killed?
My thoughts were spiraling down, and I had been down this path before. It ended with a bottle of whiskey and a quick fuck in some cheesy motel, but before I could descend completely, the familiar yet softly altered sound of Kansas began on stage.
“Carry on my wayward son, there’ll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don’t you cry no more. Once I rose above the noise and confusion. Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion. I was soaring ever higher.”
I had heard the song a thousand times. What kind of classic rock fan didn’t, after all? “Carry On Wayward Son” was a fucking classic.
But seeing those girls, dressed as us, dressed as ones we’d loved and sometimes lost, and hearing those words now. They had all new meaning.
We had lost so much and God knows I had spent so much time just…just fucking tired.
We lost Mom, then Dad; we lost our only home when Bobby’s house burned; we lost friends, we lost souls and life and will and hope, and yet we still managed to carry on. How we had done that I didn’t know.
My eyes pricked with unshed tears. Sam was here, and we were better than we had been in years. He had fought hard for me when I was lost at Crowley’s side. Redemption for purgatory maybe or running off to Stanford, not that I blamed him for that anymore.
I had Cas, who had fought just as hard. I tried not to think about what Cas had lost on my behalf. I had caused an angel to fall. How is that something you live with? But still, I was grateful he had my back. He wasn’t perfect either, but no one in our dysfunctional family was. I had Charlie who was the little sister I never had. Despite everything we had lost we still had…something.
“Who’s that?” asked Sam.
“Oh, that’s Adam. John Winchester’s other kid. He’s still trapped in the cage. In hell. With Lucifer.” The perky stage director said, completely matter of fact, and my stomach turned.
Sam and I exchanged guilt soaked glances, but the girls were still singing, and I pushed that thought away. The song suddenly seemed vitally important. Like it had answers, promises of hope. After you lose everything a promise of hope is something you cling to whenever you see it.
“Masquerading as a man with a reason. My charade is the event of the season. And if I claim to be a wise man. It surely means I don’t know.
The tears fell despite my best efforts. Why had they chosen this song? Did they really see us in the words? How did they know us better than we knew ourselves?
“Carry on my wayward son, there’ll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don’t you cry no more. Carry on.”
The song ended. The applause started, and my spiraled descent was stopped dead in its tracks. We had a job to do, but it would end. Some day. And how many people knew, with absolute certainty that their family and friends were in Heaven? That they were safe, happy and that they’d see them again. Not many, that was for sure. Someday I’d get the rest I so desperately needed. Until then…we had work to do.
We said our goodbyes and slipped off into the night, sliding into Baby like coming home. On a whim I pulled the prop amulet—what had they called it? Oh yeah, the Samulet. Heh.—and hung it from the rear view mirror. I glanced at Sammy, saw him smile.
Just another thing we had lost. But I remembered that Christmas so long ago. Just the two of us, and Sammy giving me the amulet with such love. Yeah, it had been meant for Dad, who was once again, not around, but Sam had insisted that it was mine. That I was the one there for him. I didn’t need the symbol to know. But that cheap prop, crafted with love, brought me back to that Christmas, that despite everything else had been filled with love.
Sam and I against the world. Then and now. I could live with that.
“So…Adam…” said Sam after we had been driving in near silence.
“Yeah,” I laughed awkwardly.
“I haven’t thought of him in years,” said Sam, his voice slow and embarrassed. “Like at all. Don’t you think that’s strange? It’s not like we didn’t know what happened to him.”
I had mixed feelings about Adam.
The childish part of me was still pissed that Dad had apparently been more of a father to him than he had to us. Dad had never taken me to a ballgame for my birthday. Hell, he’d never even remembered my birthday. The only time in my life I had been to a ballgame was at Bobby’s side. Yet another secret to keep from Dad when we were supposed to be training. God, I missed that crotchety bastard.
“It’s not like we even knew him. I mean, he was a ghoul the whole time we met the first time, and then when we saw him again, it wasn’t him either, it was Michael in a meat suit.”
Despite my words and something that definitely wasn’t jealousy, I could feel the guilt rising again. Ah guilt, my old friend. We saved strangers all the time, and whether we knew him or not Adam had been our brother. Another Winchester, and we left him in the cage with that psychopath angel. Not only that, but Sam hadn’t been the only one who hadn’t thought of him in years. He had literally never crossed my mind. That was…strange. Wasn’t it?
“Yeah…but Dean, I know what being locked in the cage was like. I—“
“Sam,” I interrupted. “We’re not talking about that. It’s over. You’re better and thinking about it only makes it worse. There’s no point.”
“Yeah but—“
“Sam, c’mon man. Yeah, ok, we hadn’t thought of him, but hell man, we can’t save everyone. We know that. And playing with the cage? That’s not something we can risk. That fucker is back where he belongs, and if we try to tamper with it…No, Sam. We’re not thinking about this.”
“But Cas got me out,” Sam argued.
“Yeah, and don’t you remember what you were like? And you were in there a lot less than Adam. It’s been five years here. Time runs different in Hell,” I said, remembering my forty-year stint.
“I know. It just doesn’t feel right. How could we not even think of him? I mean, not once?” Sam shook his head and leaned against the passenger window, light reflecting off the rain drops that sped across the glass.
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I did what I always did. Turned the radio up and kept driving.
Five years and never thinking of the guy once must have built up, because now it’s all we thought about. I wasn’t convinced there was any way to get Adam out of the cage, or if there was, that we would even want to. Guilt however was a good motivator for Sam, and he wasn’t letting this go.
“That is a very bad idea, Sam,” said Cas, leaning back against the wall. The 70s wallpaper of the cheap motel in contrast to the tan trench coat the angel always wore.
“I’m not saying we have to do anything really, but can’t we look into it?” pleaded Sam.
I knew it was his own experience in the cage that was driving this. But didn’t he remember what it was like after? Without Death Sam would never have recovered at all. And if he hadn’t…Hell, I didn’t even want to think about the thoughts I had while listening to screams from Bobby’s panic room. It was a plan I never wanted to consider again.
“Sam,” said Cas firmly. “Lucifer and Michael are both in the cage, and that’s exactly where we need them to be. Risking that for what is undoubtedly a shred of a soul is not a viable option.”
“Is he definitely in there?” I asked. “Do we even know that?”
Cas frowned. Sam gave me his own puzzled look.
“What do you mean?” asked Sam.
“Well, I mean.” I gestured to Cas. “Jimmy isn’t in there anymore right?”
“No, he went to Heaven when my vessel exploded,” said Cas. His gravelly voice undisturbed by the memory of his explosion into bits of gore. Weirdo.
“So, do we know that Adam is still in there with Michael?” I asked. Man, it would be so much easier if he wasn’t.
“Nothing happened to the vessel before we went in. I was still in there with Lucifer. I don’t see why there would be any difference,” said Sam, shaking his head.
“But we don’t know for sure,” I pressed.
“We don’t. Though I would agree with Sam. It’s unlikely that he is gone. The cage is meant for this express purpose, there’s no reason Adam’s soul would no longer be there, even if it has been ripped to unrecognizable shreds,” said Cas.
Sam flinched.
“Great bed side manner as always, Cas,” I said.
“We are not near a bed,” said Cas frowning.
“Will you just check?” I asked.
“I will do my best,” said Cas sighing. He turned to leave the room. “But, I would urge you to let this go, Sam. No good can come of it.”
Even though I agreed with Cas, I threw myself into research with Sam. If there was any way to get a soul out of the cage without opening it, we’d try to find it. Any way that didn’t require angel mojo that is. We searched for hours. And hours.
And hours.
I set my beer down on the bedside table and threw myself onto the bed. Sam was crashed at the table with a book under his drooling face, and I was taking a much needed break. Something crinkled under my back, and I pulled a candy bar wrapper out from under me.
God, motels are gross. It wasn’t my wrapper, and there’s no way Sam ate two thousand calories of caramel and chocolate.
Whatever.
I opened my laptop and searched for my favorite porn. What I needed now was some stress relief. After finding a promising one I settled in to let my brain go blissfully blank of all things Hell.
“What the Hell?!” I jumped.
My promising porn had rapidly gone downhill with the appearance of a pornstache wearing guy that looked way too much like a certain dick angel I knew. A certain dick angel who had died helping us, so maybe I should cut him some slack. Still, not what I wanted in my porn. I closed the laptop and turned on the TV, lowering the volume so as not to wake Sammy.
At some point I must have fallen asleep, because the next time I woke Sam was shaking my shoulder.
“Dean! I think I found something!”
“Wha??” I mumbled, my brain not quite running on full speed yet.
“I found something. Check this out,” said Sam, dragging me to the table.
“Sam?” I asked, stumbling my way out of bed. I looked once more because I wasn’t sure my eyes were seeing what my sluggish brain was telling them they were seeing. Deciding both my brain and eyes were probably right I asked, “Why is there a lollipop on your butt?”
“What?” He turned to look over his shoulder. I grabbed the stick and pulled the red lollipop off his jeans. It came off reluctantly. “Oh, gross! Don’t leave that stuff laying around.”
“Dude, have you ever in your life seen me eating a lollipop? It’s not mine,” I snapped.
“Motels are gross,” grumbled Sam.
I chucked the lollipop in the garbage and sat down in the chair next to Sam, so I could see the page he was looking at on his laptop.
“Look right here. I found a spell to summon a specific soul. It’s not like we’re going to get him out alive, and I’m not sure if it will break through the cage, but if we can free his soul then he’ll be free of Lucifer and Michael. We could get him to heaven. It’s worth a shot.”
“Maybe,” I said.
I knew enough about seals and cages to know nothing was every this easy. Things that you wouldn’t think would make a difference could end up making a very big difference after all.
“What do you mean ‘maybe?’” asked Sam incredulously. “This is it. It can’t hurt anyway, and the spell is easy.”
“Nothing is ever easy,” I said still reading through the page.
“Just because Dad—“
“Don’t go there, Sam. That’s not what this is!” I snapped, suddenly angry.
Yeah, ok. I had daddy issues, just give me a stripper name right now. Yeah, I was jealous Adam didn’t have to be daddy’s little soldier, but for Sam to think I would sentence someone to eternal torture with Lucifer for that? Fuck him. He should know better.
“Then why not?” demanded Sam. “It can’t hurt. And we have to try. Five years, Dean! And we’ve done nothing. I can’t live with that on my conscience. It’s not like I don’t know what it’s like in there.”
“We can’t risk another apocalypse for one soul, no matter who it is,” I snapped.
“How can you not be with me on this? You were in Hell for forty years. Don’t you remember what that was like? Or is all of that different ever since—”
Sam cut off, a shocked look on his face. He knew as well as I did that he just went way too far.
“Ever since what?” I demanded, my voice hard as steel.
“Nothing, nevermind.”
I glared, breathing hard, trying to rein in my temper. I didn’t want to fight, and hell, I didn’t want to leave the kid down there either. He had no doubt been tricked to say yes to Michael, and he didn’t deserve what had happened as a result. But we couldn’t save everyone.
“Well, let’s just cut this tension with a knife shall we?” snarked a familiar voice that absolutely did not belong in our motel room.
“I thought you were supposed to be dead,” I said, because suddenly the candy wrapper, rogue lollipop and guest star in last night’s porn all made sense.
“Rumors of my death have been grossly exaggerated,” said Gabriel, with a waggle of an eyebrow. “Watcha reading, Samsquatch.” It wasn’t a question.
“Something you could hopefully help us with?” Sam asked warily.
Why after all our experience with dick angels, Sam still was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt, I had no idea. Cas was the only one I trusted, and I was just as happy to leave it at that.
“No can do Sammy-boy,” said Gabriel. “You need to leave that cage alone.”
“But our brother—“ Sam tried to explain.
“Our brother is in the cage with Lucifer,” mimicked Gabriel in a high-pitched voice. “We have to save him, blah blah blah. How many freaking times do we have to go through this?!” Gabriel threw his hands into the air in exasperation.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, wondering if I still had that holy oil in the trunk. “We’ve never had this conversation.”
“Oh, I beg to differ, Dean-o,” said Gabriel, stalking closer to me. “There was that time right after Sammy got his soul back, and then again after that hunt at the Angel’s stadium. Then there was that time after you saw that Percy Jackson movie, and again when they made a sequel. You have no idea what I had to go through to make sure they never make another one of those movies. What was it this time? Find a picture? See a family with three kids? Did that kid make another movie? What the hell brought this stupid mission on this time?!”
“What are you talking about?” I repeated.
I would certainly remember if we had seen Gabriel at any of those times, and we hadn’t thought about Adam since he fell into the cage. Yeah, I still felt guilty about that, but we certainly hadn’t tried to do anything about it before now.
“Did you really think you would forget about an innocent soul in the cage for five years,” said Gabriel, making air quotes with his fingers. “Especially another Winchester?”
“What are you saying?” asked Sam.
“I’m saying, round and round we go, Samuel Jackson,” said Gabriel.
I stared at the archangel trying to process what he was suggesting.
There was a knock at the door, and before Sam rose to answer, Gabriel waved a hand, and the door flung open to reveal our favorite trench coat wearing angel standing, hand still raised. His hand fell, and he walked into the room as if in a trance. I had rarely seen Cas so shocked.
“Brother,” he said.
“Hey, Cassie,” said Gabriel. “Surprise.”
“I thought—“ Cas said, before stopping and shaking his head. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You too, baby bro,” said Gabriel warmly.
Well, that was unexpected.
I had seen the trickster snarky, flirtatious, comedic and downright scarily angry, but warm and loving? I didn’t think he had in it him. And before I could even process that thought, Cas was wrapping Gabriel in a hug.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Gabriel. “I missed you too.”
“What did you find out?” I asked Cas, trying to get us back on familiar ground. Had Cas seriously hugged the guy who had killed me literally hundreds of times?
“Oh, um, yes,” said Cas. “I was able to make contact with a friend in Heaven. It appears you have nothing to worry about. Adam’s soul is actually in heaven. He’s not in the cage.”
“As I say every time we do this dance,” said Gabriel.
Cas frowned and cocked his head to the side.
“If we’ve had this conversation before, why don’t we remember it?” I asked.
“Because Dean-o,” said Gabriel. “You never believe me.”
“Why would I believe anything you say? You killed me hundreds of times. You stuck us in TV hell! Why would I listen to anything you say!”
“Because I came around all right? I helped you in the end. I tried to kill my brother for you, something you would never do by the way, no matter how bad things get, everyone else be damned.” Gabriel shrugged. “Besides, I apologized for killing you, and you’re totally fine, not even a little dead.”
“Then why don’t we remember that we’ve talked about this?” asked Sam, much calmer than I was.
“Because, Samantha, every time we do this I wipe your memory of all things Adam,” said Gabriel. “Can’t let you two picking at that wall. No matter how we do this, I always end up trapped in a ring of holy oil, and you two go full speed ahead into the abyss. It’s better for everyone involved, if no one remembers. I am trying to remain incognito after all.”
“You fucked with our brains?” I demanded.
The archangel shook out his sleeves and held up his hands. “Yup, let’s do it again.”
“Wait,” said Cas, as both Sam and I backed against the wall, not that distance would stop anything Gabriel wanted to do.
Gabriel looked at Cas, raising his eyebrow in question.
“There’s no need now,” said Cas. “Why make them forget? They believe me.” Cas looked at me for confirmation. Yeah, of course I would believe Cas, and it certainly made life easier if it was true.
“How did his soul get to Heaven?” asked Sam, apparently not quite ready to let this go.
“His vessel was destroyed shortly after the fall before the cage locked,” explained Gabriel. “You were Lucifer’s true vessel, which is why you stayed, and if Dean had said oui to Mikey, he’d still be in the cage too. But Adam? Nah, he was capable of being the vessel, but he wasn’t the one big bro needed. The strain was too much. Pop goes the vessel, out comes the soul.”
“Are you sure he’s not in the cage, Cas?” asked Sam.
“What am I chopped liver?” asked Gabriel. “Tell you what. I can see drastic measures are necessary this time. As much as I love reliving this day over and over again…”
“Yeah, reliving a day over and over again, that must suck,” said Sam, bitterly.
“Oh, let bygones be bygones Sampster,” said Gabriel. “It’s not healthy to hold a grudge. As I was saying, as much as I love reliving this day, it’s time for this conversation to end.”
Before I could object, or do anything useful Gabriel snapped his fingers, and the motel was gone.
I shook my head in momentary confusion. I was in a living room I had never been in. A Christmas tree decorated in colored lights, festive ornaments and a star brightly lit on top. Presents were under the tree and a fire crackled merrily in the fireplace. I caught sight of a teenager with bright green eyes and freckles across his nose, before I startled, realizing I was looking into a mirror.
I looked down, and I was thinner, probably shorter though that was hard to tell. My hands were scar free and unlined. I looked back up into the mirror.
“Son of a bitch,” I said, and the mirror mimicked me.
I looked around again and recognized Sam as a ten-year-old in Christmas pajamas. There was another boy around the same age I had never seen. I knew immediately that it was Adam, which was impossible because he was much younger than Sam even if it was possible for us to be kids again. Stanger things had happened, after all.
“This isn’t real,” I said, my voice missing the depth I was used to.
“It’s as real as anything in Heaven,” said Gabriel at my side.
“Where’s Cas?” I asked.
“Not here,” answered Gabriel. “Jeesh, your angel is fine. Possessive much?”
“I’m not—“ I stopped, arguing would do nothing, and it wasn’t really the point now anyway. “Where are we? What’s happening?”
“It’s called closure, Dean-o,” said Gabriel. “You’re in Adam’s heaven. I altered it a bit to make this reunion. Think of it as a good-will gesture. You know, for killing you all those times.”
“And wiping our memory, and putting us in TV shows,” I prompted.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Gabriel said. “All that stuff.”
I frowned, watching Sam and Adam talking.
“Jeez, Dean,” said Gabriel after a moment of silence. “This is a peace offering. Enjoy your Christmas. We can’t stay here for long. There’s a reason I became Loki after all. Heaven ain’t home to me, and I’m risking way more than you’re worth being here.”
“I—“
I was about to object. I was about to argue and demand our return to reality, but I looked around the room again seeing a Christmas we had never had. Smelling the scent of dinner and cookies, peppermint and wood smoke…and home. A home that never existed, but home none-the-less.
I walked forward like I was in a trance and sat down next to my two brothers. Two brothers. Holy shit.
We talked and played games and opened presents in a way that should have been weird given our actual age, but didn’t seem it. I caught the voices of adults who never appeared from the kitchen. My dad’s voice. My mom’s laugh. Ellen’s declaration of something, and Bobby’s gruff tones.
I couldn’t understand what they were saying, and I never saw them, but I knew they were there, in the comforting way a child hears the sounds of their parents talking downstairs while they fall asleep. Another thing I hadn’t experienced myself, but felt familiar anyway.
After far too short a time Gabriel re-appeared, and I knew our time was over. Sam and I stood, and Adam rose with us. We hugged and it felt…normal.
“You’re not going to let us remember this either, are you?” I asked.
“Sorry, Dean-o,” said Gabriel. “Better for everyone if you don’t. You’ll feel it though. I’ll make sure of that.”
Gabriel raised his hand to snap.
“Wait,” I said, grabbing his hand before letting go when he raised an eyebrow in a very smitey way. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” said Gabriel.
I took one last look around the room. One last look at tinsel and lights. One last listen to the sounds of Christmas carols and Bobby’s voice. One last look at the little brother I never knew.
And then Gabriel snapped his fingers.
“In the heat of the moment”
Sam slammed the alarm clock silent with an aggression, that in my opinion was seriously unwarranted.
“Dude, I will never understand your hatred of that song. It’s Asia!” I said bouncing out of bed. Damn, I felt good. I couldn’t remember feeling this good in a long freaking time.
“Shut up,” said Sam, but despite his manhandling of the alarm clock, he smiled. We grinned at each other feeling giddy and happy and down right at peace. Whatever it was, I wasn’t going to complain.
“C’mon, Cas’s going to be waiting. He’s got a case for us,” I said, before slapping my brother on the back and popping a lollipop into my mouth. It reminded me of home…for some very weird reason.