Chapter Text
July 2001
Sam Winchester is very confused. The evening has already started more... supernatural than he expected.
First, dad managed to smell that Sam was lying, and knew where to find the application for Stanford. Thankfully, Sam has already managed to send it, but John went so angry his arms stretched out like a monster.
And then, even more unexpected, while John was half-roaring something about Sam needing to become one with the hunt, about something else (and Sam felt so bad at that point, like John had knew all along that Sam feels there’s something wrong with himself) having left themselves inside of Sam, Dean shot their dad, before grabbing Sam and fleeing.
The fact that Dean, dad’s little soldier, saved Sam from their father is unexpected, even if Sam was so relieved he actually cried about it, and Dean didn’t complain about his brother acting like a girl, but made sure Sam knew his highest priority was to protect his brother over hunting what killed their mom like d- like John does.
The fact that Dean apparently KNEW, or at least suspected something like that could (or would) happen, is another thing. Dean refused to explain more when Sam attempted to confront him about it, as he said he had someone he had to contact he never told John and Bobby about.
Which is another thing. Because Sam is standing next to the telephone booth as Dean pulled out a business card about a company Sam has never heard of, something about Fairchill, Fairchild?
Dean just commented that he kept the card in his pockets for so long, always letting it on his person as he changed pants or jacket, that their dad only smelled Dean’s odor on it as his senses increased.
When Sam expressed confusion at their father being shot as he turned and Dean then staking John, Dean commented they would need to be a specific type of monster to kill what their dad is turning into, but the people he knew might be able to lead them away from it.
Hearing Dean refer to their father as an “it”, Dean not thinking he could be able to kill whatever John is turning into, scared Dean. Their diverging opinions on hunting (or did they diverge so much? With everything that happened tonight, Sam is unsure of everything he ever thought he knew) had caused a rift between them, but Dean is still, to an extent, the all-protective figure in Sam’s life.
If Dean says other Hunters might be a problem, and it’s better they get away from it all for a bit, then Sam trusts him.
Still, doesn’t mean he isn’t driven by the urge to Know what is going on, so, as Dean finally gets someone, he is happy to eavesdrop.
“Hey, hello, I want to contact... Castiel Fairchild?” Dean seems a bit unsure.
Sam’s older brother then remembers something. “I was told- I mean, he told me to mention the Falling Titan? I’m- Ah, Castiel isn’t there today? It’s-”
Sam is wondering where the hell did Dean meet this Castiel fellow, and how the hell does Dean know someone who seems to be the owner of a big business enough to have secret codes and to trust him to save them from their monster-mutating father. Trying to look at what the card says, but there only seems to be a painting of the sky from what Sam can see between his brother’s fingers.
“His sibl-” Dean half-shouts, taking Sam by surprise “Please, don’t tell me I have to ask Zachariah…” Dean grumbles. “You-” Dean makes a half-scream of annoyance. “If it’s this asshole, he’s gonna show up JUST to watch us get eaten, damn it! The leather jacket-enjoyer Winchester seems almost ready to slam the phone down.
Sam is confused, and they are in dangers, and he NEEDS information: “Dea, seriously, what is-”
Dean shushes his brother with a finger, seeming to wait for an answer. Seeing that the line is occupied, Dean hesitates, before searching for words (Sam is good at reading Dean’s face, those are two distinct faces). Finally, his big brother, his protector, says: “There was this.. hunt, me and dad had years ago. Never got anything else like it. Sure, the witches summoning undead were weird, but the thing is, some- Hello?”
Dean looks shocked: “How do you know my-” The person on the phone responds. Sam stretches his ear openly, and Dean gives him the stink-eyes, but Sam is only sure the person on the other end of the phone is female, and Castiel is mentioned.
Dean blushes, before putting on his bravado and stating, half-seductively: “Oh. I didn’t think I had left such a good impression.”
Okay, who the hell did Dean seduce this time? Sam thought they weren’t supposed to go see other Hunters?
Dean must get a rebuttal given his face. He sighs and bluntly admits to the lady, which is so unlike Dean to admit he needs help: “Our father- I’m with my brother- he. He turned into something, and we need help. Castiel told me to contact him if I needed an out. I’m giving my place for Sam-”
Sam Winchester doesn’t even remember moving into the booth, grabbing the phone away from his brother. He is shouting before his brain can catch up with his actions: “NO WAY AM I LEAVING MY BROTHER IN HERE! WE’RE IN-” Sam doesn’t know how he remembers so perfectly the street name and in which no-end town they are, but he is so glad he does “-AND WE ARE GOING TOGETHER, WHOEVER YOU ARE!!”
There is a horrifying howl that detracts Dean from trying to get the phone back, and the Winchester brothers turn with horror to see something that looks like John Winchester, but stretched beyond human. His nails have become razor-sharp claws, his joints twisted in a way that indicate he could be able to run on all fours, and likely climb walls more easily than a normal human. His eyes shine in the dark, reflecting the lights of the rare street light. John is breathing heavily, but doesn’t seem tired in the slightest and Sam wonders if his sense of smell has now improved, and if it’s the same for his hearing.
The woman on the receiving end speaks in almost-whispers: “Well, don’t worry, Sam Winchester. I’m here in an instant.” before shutting down the call.
Sam and Dean have been hunting monsters for too long for them to think they have a chance of running away from whatever their father has become (Sam always felt like their father was stronger and faster than them and holding impossible standards. If he was slowly turning into something else, and the transformation is now accelerating now that Sam pissed him off, it will be worse), but they also know being inside of the phone booth is a death sentence.
Dean grabbed some guns and pocket change before they left, and he shoots what remains of their dad before it gets too close while Sam lets the phone drop and grabs another gun as they escape.
Of course, it is pretty futile, and Sam is sad that this is why Dean will die, protecting him because Sam wanted a better life for himself. He has the dark thought that he is causing the death of everyone he cares about. But at least, Sam will die with Dean, so it won’t happen again. Dean has been the rock of Sam’s world since birth, and they will leave existence together even if they entered it with four years of difference.
Suddenly, a woman with long red hair in an open green jacket revealing a white buttoned shirt appears next to Sam and Dean and says: “Oh dear, daddy dearest went quite overboard in accepting the hunt, didn’t he? Impressive neither of you are more marked after years.”
Her voice is still strangely even and barely above a whisper, and Sam gets the feeling that she is bordering on bored by what’s happening.
She grabs the brother and-
They are in the starry sky, without up, or down. Dean, who never enjoyed planes, is Screaming, while Sam is panicking over trying to figure out what is going on and how they could-
They are now in an office, with large windows allowing a perfect view of the city and the large half-starry sky.
“Welcome to Chicago, boys.” The red-heard says as she goes to sit at a large desk. There are chairs for visitors too. Sam notices that the desk is oddly put so that both Anna and the guests are next to the glass window. Given the sky motif the whole place as and what she just did, it doesn’t seem innocent. “My name is Anna Milton-Fairchild. I must say,” She looks Dean over with interest. “Castiel met you when you were but a teenager, but meeting you when you are hopefully an adult, I’m enjoying the view.”
Dean gives his winning smile, or well, attempts it, but he is remaining crouching on the floor, letting his hands roam over the solid surface, and the fear that hasn’t left him turns his face into a grimace. Sam himself feels slight vertigo as he aims his gun at “Anna”, ignoring his brother’s feeble protests:
“Who the HELL are you, and what is going on?!?” Sam puts on as much authority as he can. He hasn’t reached his brother’s height even if he has hopes, but he is still bigger than the lady, and if she needs to touch them, she just puts herself at a disadvantage.
A MUCH stronger case of vertigo hits Sam, while she just smiles.
As soon as Sam drops to his knees, Anna looks to Dean, who is raising up with difficulty to stand in front of his brother protectively.
Anna raises a brow and slightly tilts her head. “Castiel had never seen your brother. My, my, Dean Winchester. Such skills to hide the Fears from him over many years.”
Sam is so confused, and has almost tears in his eyes. “What is-What.”
Dean spares a glance in front of the new danger to check that his brother isn’t about to fall any more. “As I was saying, Sam. Folks like her or Cas don’t react to bullets. They're air-related creatures. Would have gone through them.”
Anna tsk. “Castiel could do that, but we all have our skills and angles. So what, are we all just monsters to you? You’re an Hunter alright, Dean Winchester. Certainly more caring than most, but still.”
Dean looks at her with anger. “Yeah, yeah. Castiel mentioned you guys worked for the Fallen Titan or whatever, and that Dad was- is- a servant of the God of Hunting or whatever.”
“Oh. OH. Oh my.” Anna puts her hand in front of her mouth delicately like a proper lady. “Humm, I have never met a Hunter from up close, besides earlier on with your father, and you are just marked, while your brother -Sam is it?- is apparently destined to another Power.”
Dean is clearly itching to pull his own gun. “Okay, no, seriously, lady. I think you need to share with the rest of the class. What are you talking about? What do you mean Sam is about to turn into a creature like dad.”
Sam is touched that Dean’s first instinct is to check what could happen to Sam, but Sam is worried about the implication Dean might have the same fate as John.
“You mind if I leave a message for Castiel that you are here? You’re his responsibility, even if you look adorable. As I said earlier, Dean, my brother never cares much, that he still mentions you sometimes is the only reason you still live.”
At the silence, she pulls off a phone and sends a quick message while muttering, which, given the fact that she apparently always speak at the same level, means the Winchester brothers can still hear her: “Of course, I know those Earth freaks are always going fuck-nowhere to drink mud and eart literal dirt, and the Lukases and Haans are making it a family affair, while the Lightless Flame and the Forver Blind have their cults, well organized. I must admit, I never cared enough about the Chase to ponder about the organization of Hunters society. Oh well, it makes sense that people who spend so much time running after their own Patron’s creatures are in the dark, if not literally.” She laughs at that.
Sam and Dean are standing, if maybe not as solid as they would like.
“So what,” Sam says “Monsters are related to- wait, What do you mean, Hunters are working for a demon lord!!?”
The Fairchild woman waves her hand to show the chairs, but as the Winchester brothers prefer to stand, she sights.
“The Dread Powers are manifestations of the primal fears that everyone feels to an extent.” She starts. “They create every monster and supernatural event that exists so that the pain and fear of people satiate their hunger.” Her smile widens, and Sam is not sure if they should trust the words of a fanatic. But, certainly, she knows more than they do.
“I myself, as is every Fairchild, am a servant of the Falling Titan, also known as Vertigo, the Vast, the Void. It is the fear of falling, of infinity, of spaces that are too large. You, and your dad especially, are doing the work of the Hunt, The Chase.”
Dean interrupts her: “How the hell could us and dad be working for a fear monster god when we hunt monsters? That makes no sense, we protect people. We save them, not kill them.”
The smile on Anna’s face is mean. “Oh, Dean. It’s not because they are themselves killing people that vampires and werewolves and witches don’t feel fear. Your God- you don’t really think of him that way, do you? And while most Hunters are claimed by the Hunt, neither of you are its things just yet. So... Your Fear is about feeling hunter, pursued. Violence and War are the domain of The Slaughter. The Hunt, from what I understand, I am admittedly, not the most aware, but the ones that might know more are not good to hang out with, anyway” she rambles like she has all her time “The Hunt is about the pursuit, and the feeling of suddenly being prey when you were the predator. A monster makes better prey than a normal human.”
Sam has a revelation: “Like people who state that lions and bears and rhinos and gorillas and elephants and humans make for better prey than cows or fishes because they can fight back.”
Anna Looks at him with a hint of interest. “Well, you do understand it better than I. Hummm, I thought the lack of Hunt energy on you was because you didn’t know. But no, you and Dean were following dad around, didn’t you? I wonder why your father was taken but not you two. Castiel thought it was because you don’t have a thing you pursue with reckless abandon, but I do wonder if the protection of your brother shouldn’t be enough. Well, being a servant of the embodiment of the sense of insignificance of humanity means it’s hard to care about most things, you know?” She shrugs.
Not wanting her to go completely bored, just in case she decides they should be thrown to her “God”, Sam asks: “So, there is the fear of falling, of being hunted, of violence- there is Death too, as a separate entity?”
She nods. “Ah. Yes. The End. Terminus. The Coming End That Waits For All And Cannot Be Ignored.” She shakes her head, likely at the pompous nature of the last title. “It doesn’t have as many monsters or Avatars- that is the term used to refer to the people empowered by a Fear- as most of them, but that’s because every person who doesn’t get taken, be it as a victim or an avatar, by the other Fears is its to own.”
“Cheerful” Dean snarks. “Can’t believe many want to work for the embodiment of the fear of Death either, even if I suppose the ability to raise zombies or kill anyone with a touch would get many witches excited.”
Anna seems amused. “True. Well, I have heard rumors that most Avatars it has, it picked at random, rather than individuals that either deeply feared it or were drawn to it like the rest of the Fears. I myself became a Avatar of the Vast because-”
She stops herself.
“The people who would know more about the Fears would likely be the servants of the Beholding. The Eye. Ceaseless Watcher.”
Sam snorts: “What? There is a monster about the fear of knowing stuff?”
She gives him a glare, before becoming pensive. “The Fear of someone watching you at all times. Of learning horrifying truths or things you didn’t want to know. Of someone standing as you suffer and not doing anything. Of reckless search for knowledge. I wonder if you could be one of its. There is a group called “The Usher foundation” that I think are connected to it, but the sister foundation known as The Magnus Institute in London is older and more steeped in the Beholding.”
Sam shuts up fast at that.
Anna smiles even wider (right, Fear God Religious Servant). “There is also the Mother-of-puppets. The Web. The Spider. The fear of being manipulated and having no control over your actions.” Sam and Dean winces, Sam especially, over the control freak tendencies of their father. Of Sam sometimes feeling like his body isn’t normal. “I see you have some feelings about it. Thankfully not to the point of meeting one its creature, I hope. Once the Web wants you to do something, it is generally wise to just go along. What happens if you try to get out of your strings is... Unpleasant.”
Dean speaks up: “You mentioned the Earth earlier on. That’s the fear of being buried alive and closed spaces, I suppose? The opposite of your god.”
Anna gets straight-up murderous and stands up. “Yes. The Forever Buried. The Choke. The Pit. The Center. Too-Close-I cannot-Breathe. So many names for such a small thing. It is insignificant.” She spits.
Sam and Dean exchange a glance. Dean’s eyebrows are raised in a “Can you believe this?” kind of way. Sam doesn’t share his brother’s surface amusement.
Anna slams her hand against her desk: “And those idiots are trying to summon their feeble god. They seem to be planning it somewhere in North America. We will stop them, for the Titan.”
Dean and Sam are alert, now. “They want to invoke the very concept of being buried alive in the world?” Sam asks with horror. “Is there anything we can do to help, we are monster hunters, even if not Hunters” Dean gives a look of surprise at Sam. Sure, Sam wanted to live a normal life, but if there is something attempting to destroy humanity, Sam is morally obligated to help, and it’s not like he can go to School and become a lawyer if everyone is stuck in dirt “we might go in search of something specific, we need to stop them. Wait.” Sam takes a step back.
“Do you want to summon your Fear God?” He Knows exactly what she meant by the fear of learning horrible things. Everything they already learned tonight is tearing apart every certitude Sam ever had, and he is likely about to learn of so many dangers that threaten every human on Earth (the planet).
There is the incongruous sound of wings, and a male voice resonates behind Sam: “What is going on, Dean?” It’s not easy to position himself to be able to look at both threats without looking like he is fleeing, but Sam is not trusting anyone here, even if Dean apparently trusts one of the Fairchild.
The newcomer is a man almost as tall as Dean, wearing a brown overcoat over a suit with a vivid blue tie. His face looks to be struggling at expression, but his vacant eyes are boring a hole in Dean while his head is tilted like a confused bird.
Dean gets in the newcomer’s space without any fear, at least. “Your sister told us that there are Fear monsters around and that some people are trying to summon being buried alive. So we NEED to know, are you guys trying to summon emptiness? Answer me!!!”
So this must be Castiel.
The man doesn’t seem to care about the outburst. Anna did point out they are servants of the fear of being insignificant, and Dean mentioned bullets going through Castiel. An angry Winchester must be pretty uninteresting for winds taking on human shape.
The gravely voice is so even, Sam couldn’t tell you if the man(?) is trying to be cordial, threatening, factual or is just bored. “It is something we will do again. Eventually. During the Victorian era, the man currently going by Simon Fairchild attempted a summoning ritual involving mankind’s fear of the ocean. It failed. Simon had overestimated how much people cared. As there is nothing currently that would cause massive amounts of fear related to the Void, servants of the Falling Titan are waiting for the exploration of space to advance enough for people to be affected by the irrelevance of Earth in the cosmos.”
Dean blinks. “He is still alive after, what, 150 years?” He turns towards Sam to be sure his numbers are good. Sam nods and answers: “Servants of the fears are immortals. Even former humans, they fully fit what a Hunter would call a monster, don’t they.”
Castiel looks at Sam for a second before turning back to Dean. There is a slight raise of a corner of his mouth. “He is older than that. He was born somewhere in the 1500s. Anna over here is 236 and was born when America was still a British colony, while I am still young for an Avatar, born in 1915 as Jimmy Novak. Fairchild is a name that the one you will hear of as Simon took from one of his victims, a con artist, during the early 1930s. Most Avatars of the Vast have joined the family one way or another for simplicity and unity purpose, even if there are some that are keeping their names for now, like Michael Crew in Europe.”
Sam is always hunting for knowledge, and Dean is a hound whenever he detects something that would endanger his family, so it is unsurprising that, while Castiel’s claim indicate that the summoning of the Vast Entity isn’t soon, they are not exactly relieved at the idea that it is still a possibility, and also that every other Fear Entity is likely having servants aiming to bring them into the world from wherever they are supposed to be.
Dean moves his head so fast between the two “siblings” Sam isn’t surprised if he gets Vertigo once more.
“And the other entities? Gonna do something about them? What about the Hunt? If Hunters are serving it, what kind of rituals would it need, and how could we stop it?”
Anna glances at him, and Dean falls. Before Sam can grab his brother, Castiel is already steadying him, and glaring at the Milton woman.
Anna simply says, boredom definitively present in her. “Well, Castiel, I saved him.” She does smile a bit. “I am glad that someone gets you to show emotions,” The slight shadow of a smile? Sam is wondering just HOW detached Castiel must be for it to be noticeable “but take care of these two Hunters now, Cass.”
Sam grabs his brother rather than Castiel, and tells the avatar: “He is scared of flight, be quick.” Castiel makes a strange face at that. He looks to be torn between hunger (they FEED on it, don’t they? Just like their unholy god), remorse and confusion.
This time, Sam is expecting the empty starry sky. He holds tight at his brother, and can feel the sobs of panic. Looking at the man transporting them both, Sam notices the determination on the creature’s face, and also notices that there are wings spreading out of Castiel’s back, made of the darkness of space, with rainbow elements. It honestly looks like Castiel is one of these deep sea creatures.
Dean doesn’t notice, because his mouth is opening in a whine, and both Sam and Castiel grab him tighter in a meaningless attempt at grounding him.
Finally, they arrive in front of a home with large windows. Castiel doesn’t let go of Dean. Neither does Sam. Even as he is letting bile into their shoes, they are here for Sam’s brother.
Finally, when Dean has somewhat recovered, Castiel lets them inside, uncaring of the vomit they are putting everywhere. The house is clean. It's even, pretty empty and minimalist.
Sam asks: “Where are we?” Castiel answers, not letting his gaze away from Dean with some level of worry. “Flagstaff, Arizona. First International Dark Sky Community. Location of the Lowell Observatory and the US Naval Observatory. I picked it for the sky somewhere in the 1960’s, and had quite a few renovations since then, to better appreciate the sky. I also raise bees in the garden. The rest of the family either doesn’t know or doesn’t enjoy it, but maybe you would enjoy it more, if neither of you are Avatars.”
Sam helps his brother sit on a glass chair near the door. Trying to distract the eldest Winchester from what they just did, Sam asks: “Is there a fear related to bugs? Anna hasn’t been the most clear. Once she explained the existence of the fear beings, she had already started to get distracted.”
Castiel doesn’t seem very interested in explaining himself to Sam, but, as he looks at Dean’s look of interest, he lets out an inaudible sigh and explains.
Well, Sam is seeing how it is.
“The Corruption. Quite a versatile Fear. It covers decay, disease, bugs and also toxic relationships.” After an instant, he tilts his head again in that bird-like way. Sam has the thought that, whatever happened to Castiel to become a servant of the fear of infinity, he is a LOT deeper into it than Anna is, even if she is older.
Castiel asks a question, for once: “Which Dread powers have Anna mentioned?”
Dean speaks up: “Your Void. Hunt. The Eye thingie. The Web. Buried. Something about War?” Sam adds: “That’s violence. There’s also Terminus, AKA Death. And now you mentioned Corruption. That’s nine.”
Castiel humms. “There is also the Lonely. Fear of being alone, of being Forsaken. There is an actual family connected by blood, the Lukases. We sometimes work together. I think there actually IS a thing we are doing with their economical empire about sending people into the empty void darkness of space. Quite a few years before launch still. Won’t be enough for a ritual.” He adds as an afterthought, like it doesn’t quite matter. Sam gulps.
Castiel makes a little movement of the head, but Sam can’t tell what it means. “For this one, we are also working with a company held by servants of the Dark. Mr. Pitch, they sometimes call it.” Castiel raises an eyebrow, like maybe Sam and Dean have an explanation for this behavior. “In any case, this is set in the UK. I do not have food. My apologies. It is unnecessary for me.”
“I’m not feeling hungry yet.” Dean responds with obvious confusion at the non-sequitur, but Castiel tilts his head and squints.
Castiel thinks for a bit. “There is also the Spiral. The fear of going insane. Never met a servant of it. They do sound dreadful.” His tone of voice is one of mild annoyance.
“Desolation, also known as the Lightless Flame. They like to destroy things. Even if violent deaths are normally feeding the Slaughter, they seem to be quite sadistic. We met while me and other Avatars of the Titan were destroying a stronghold of the Fire, Dean.” He smiles like Dean is about to compliment him.
When Dean waves his hand around and says “That’s good. You do realize you are ALSO something I should be hunting, right?” Castiel looks constipated. Sam adds: “He hasn’t fully recovered, and he REALLY doesn’t like high spaces. It’s not you, Cas. It’s your fear.” Because if Castiel looks so visibly put out, he must be devastated inside, with his emotional issues.
Sam’s words catch up to his brain, and he realizes he made it worse. Castiel looks down at his feet, and Sam wonders if the idea of hurting Dean might genuinely be all that was needed for getting a man who might have served the Void for at least half a century to feel bad.
What the fuck happened on these hunt to turn Castiel into a fricking puppy whenever Dean is concerned.
Dean gives his best charming smile, a bit marred by the vomit around his mouth. “Hey, it’s okay, Cas. As Sam said, I do like you.”
Castiel beams with joy and there is the smell of Ozone in the air, which immediately gets Dean’s panic rising.
“Oh god, I am sorry, Dean. I am sorry, I’m sorry.” The avatar says while getting his powers back in control. “Hum. There is also the Stranger. Everything that makes you feel like something is wrong but you cannot put your finger on it. The fear of the unknown. And those are the Fourteen Fears.”
“I only have thirteen.” Dean points out. Castiel thinks it through and opens his eyes wide. “Right. The youngest Fear. First appeared in the industrial age. The Flesh. It is related to human only being meat. I think some of the creatures you Hunt are more about it than they are the Hunt. Wendigos in the North, notably. It’s also about muscles and skin being twisted in many shapes.”
Sam hums as he rubs circles on his brother’s back. “Some of these seem to almost overlap. Stranger and Spiral both rely on your perception of reality to be warped, no?”
Castiel shrugs. “I suppose. I do not care much.” He hesitates, before getting a glass that he fills with tap water. “Do you think whatever creature Anna saved you from will be after you? She was not very clear.”
Dean and Sam exchange a glance. Dean finally speaks up after taking a sip and spitting more bile right afterwards. Castiel looks completely uncaring about the state of his house.
“Our dad finally got claimed by the Hunt. I didn't really understand all these years ago, but over the years, I saw how he was slowly eaten by the need to find who or what killed our mom. And tonight, when Sam- When he found that Sam didn’t want to continue in the search, he went crazy and wanted to mark him. You think he will hunt after us now?”
Castiel clearly hesitates. “I do not think he will change his Hunt.” And he puts strong emphasis on the word. “The Hunt is all about pushing people into their obsession. It does not have to be a physical thing either, from what I hear. If you say he is obsessed with finding and killing what killed your mother. By the way, I did try to search for some elements on Mary Winchester, born Campbell’s death. Did you know your family on the mother's side is one of the main representatives of the Hunt in North America?”
Sam’s blood turns cold. Dean lets out a whine that could be a “what?”
Castiel’s expression is solemn. “The Campbells are a long lineage of servants of the Hunt, like the Lukases are servants of the Lonely. There is a family of Flesh worshippers too, I think I’ve heard. The Fairchilds are NOT a true family, but we are a community.”
“There IS a community of Hunters, and no one ever mentioned our mom.” Dean points out. “Are Hunters you know aware of the Fears?” Castiel points out. Dean swears.
“So what could kill her?” Sam asks with worry. Castiel lowers his head. “From what I gathered, she left the Hunt in hopes of getting a quote-on-quote” he actually makes the finger quotes “normal life. It does rarely happen, an Avatar leaving the life behind. It even more rarely goes well for them.”
Dean stands up. “So WHAT?! Mom wanted out, so the Hunt sent something to kill her so that dad would join instead??”
Castiel answers, more calmly than either Sam or, evidently, Dean wants. “Actually, the flames and the fact that I can faintly feel a Mark on Sam, it seems that an agent of the Desolation was the one to kill your mother. I am sorry, but I have no other answers for you.”
Dean stomps to clean his face at the sink. Sam wants to ask what being “marked” means, but is scared of answers.
Instead, he decides to ask for more information about the fears. “So, Anna and, I presume, you are trying to find information on the upcoming Buried ritual. You are waiting for the space age to try a new ritual. Any idea for the other fears?”
Castiel thinks about it a bit. “The Slaughter attempted it somewhere during World War 2. Had they waited for the Nuclear bombings, they might have succeeded, actually. But if a ritual fails, most of the fear accumulated over centuries is destroyed, along with most monsters and artifacts related to the Fear, along with quite a few of the Avatars. We were actually lucky a Hunter had sabotaged Simon Fairchild’s ritual in the 1850s, and possibly the fact that he picked the wrong aspect of Fear. Otherwise, there would have been a lot more damage done to servants of the Vast. Even still, our lord is a being that doesn’t care about Earth anyway. Only the Lonely might be less helpful to its servant, explaining why Lukases are filling quite a large part of the former Avatars ranks.”
“So, not a lot of space-aligned monsters?” Dean raises an eyebrow. “It fits. I had never seen or even heard of something like you or Anna before or since we met.”
Sam comments: “So, with the cold war being over, and only a few skirmishes and- okay. There are probably things happening in the world that cause fear of violence. But nothing that could help servants and avatars of the Slaughter to refill the fear-meter” Dean snorts at the idea of a fear meter “so they are out of the running for now. Any other ritual that failed recently?”
Castiel does seem to have some idea of what is going on, even despite the admitted apathy of Vast avatars. Probably that, with so many potential people working for it, they do keep track of what is happening, supernatural world-wise. “The End and the Web are both known to never attempt rituals. If death entered our world, everyone would die, and it would lose its food source. And as mentioned, it pick Avatars at random, with questionable amount of knowledge ANY of them could gain.”
Seems like he has some interest in stopping the others. Sam thinks they can use that and his unexplainable interest in Dean to get his help. Oh. Wow. that is manipulative. “And the Web?”
“Castiel makes a face. “No one knows what it does at any given time, or why. I don't think even its servants understand the scope of its plans. But I presume that, like the Coming End, the Spider would run contrary to its own... existence, if EVERYTHING was manipulation and control.”
“So,” Dean counts on his fingers. “War cannot do anything yet. Same with Space. Death and Spider aren’t interested. It still leaves us with 10 rituals. You think the Buried will act in the US?”
“It has been trying since the 1930s dust storms of the “Black Sunday”, we believe. But nothing yet indicates a large congregation of its servants. There is an element we are missing, one that its servants are waiting for before enacting the ritual.”
Dean doesn’t seem very reassured. “And the rest.”
Castiel sighs. “You two could become agents of the Beholding, with how many questions you ask. Which reminds me, with the rise in surveillance, maybe its servant will try something in the coming years? Jonah Magnus attempted the last ritual of the Eye in the 1860s, if I remember correctly. It failed, and he then created the Magnus Institute, London. A collection of paranormal experience and artifacts. Both the Lukas and the Fairchild are currently sponsors, so we will KNOW when the current leader of the institute tries something. As their rituals rely on Watching, they must make something that involves helpless spectators.”
Dean looks uncertain, but Sam nods. “I imagine the Buried would involve an earthquake somehow. True, this would be detected. But the Desolation?”
Castiel hesitates. “They have their messiah.” He finally drops. “In the UK. Seems the attempt failed, if her being sent to a servant of the Web means anything. Last time anyone outside of the cult heard of her, she was attempting to live a normal life away from the Lightless Flame.”
Sam wonders if what happened to him was related. The idea that he CAN leave the world of monsters is still a siren call, but he isn’t sure if he could do that just yet with those recent revelations.
“Any other Ritual you know won’t happen soon?” Dean interrupts.
Castiel seems quite disappointed the answer is “No.” He then adds: “I do not have a single idea of where to start with the Corruption, Meat, that’s another word for the Flesh,” Dean makes a “Ah” shape with his mouth “The Stranger have been trying for years. I do not know what is stopping them. Rumor has it the Slaughter stopped the last, but there should have been enough time for the Stranger to regain its strength. The Spiral is the Fear of untruth and confusion. Maybe they do not want to have a ritual just like The End or the Web, but I am even less sure.”
“A ritual based on the Fear of the Dark…” Dean ponders. “Might need to keep an eye on that cult. Though, if they are attempting to work with you and the lonely, probably that neither are close.”
Castiel tilts his head backward to look through his window. “Maybe for the Dark. In any case, The Dark and The Eye have a bitter rivalry, just like Earth and The Vast. I would trust servants of the beholding to learn about it and try to stop it, somehow.”
“Hell yeah.” Dean says while taking off his outer layer and leaving it in the sink.
“So, Sammy.” Sam scoffs at the nickname. “What have we got yet?”
Sam think it over.
“So, in order:
-Cannot accomplish a ritual yet: The Vast. The Slaughter.
-Won’t accomplish a ritual: The End. The Web. Maybe the Spiral.
-Incoming rituals, but have another Fear working against them: The Eye and The Dark against one another, the Buried is looked over by the Vast. The Buried definitively needs something more.
-Might try a ritual, but is stopped for now: The Stranger.
-Complete Unknown: The Corruption. The Flesh. The Lonely.
Anything else? We still have Hunt, oh wait.
The Desolation is also incoming, but there seems to be a snag. If they fail in the upcoming years, it means we are good about them.” He proposes to do a fist bump with Dean, but his brother doesn’t seem to be into it, even if that is the thing that caused their mom’s death.
Dean says: “So, there is the Hunt, which WE should know more about than Castiel, but we’ve got nothing. Just great.”
Sam looks at Castiel with sympathy at the obvious wince. “To his credit, I am not sure what a ritual related to the Hunt would be either. Like, if the fear of being hunted is what powers it, every serial killer, every monster, every time where someone didn’t want to get caught by someone or being caught doing something would have worked towards empowering it. Wait.”
Sam is a bit awkward at being looked at by both his brother and the kinda-monster (not kinda. Castiel is maybe nice, but he FEEDS ON PEOPLE’S FEAR. It’s like Amy. A monster who does the thing they do because it’s their nature, and not because they are evil.) with such intensity.
“Being called violently means it’s a Slaughter thing, right?” Castiel looks certain. “Yes. That is confirmed. The Hunt only feeds on the chase. The kill itself doesn’t matter.”
Dean mutters: “Does explain how Monster hunters can serve it. The vampires and werewolves and ghosts and witches scared of us going after them every living moment will be more nourishing than people being scared for only a few minutes or hours before being killed.”
Sam shushes his older brother. “Dean, they can sometimes keep a victim alive for weeks. Also, the fact that they are sentient isn’t enough for you to see them as deserving of sympathy, but it doesn’t matter as long as they feel fear. They count as people.”
Dean rolls his eyes with gusto. “So, what does that mean, anyway.”
Sam drops the bombshell: “The ritual of the Hunt is impossible to accomplish because ending it would mean it failed. The Hunt is the power of always looking for the next thing and being trapped in a never-ending loop of short-lived satisfaction. It’s like the End and the Web. It can’t be sent into our world because it would be contrary to what it feeds on.”
Dean looks at him with morbid interest. Castiel might be more uncertain. Hard to tell. But the avatar does say: “Their ritual is called the Everchase, according to the rare theoretician of the Fears. I always thought it was just called that way because it sounded appropriate, but. Hummm... I wonder if it means the ritual was started at some point but so long ago people have forgotten they are doing it, that some kind of monster, or, sadly, the Hunters, are committing the steps and keeping the ritual alive by their hunts, without any end in sight.”
Dean sadly admits: “A hunter generally dies before their 30s, or ends up in an asylum, having lost everything they cared about, including their mission. Could be that, yes. Hunters are the ones keeping the other rituals from succeeding, which is their own ritual, impossible to accomplish because there will always be something else.”
After a few moments of silence, Castiel says: “Tomorrow, I will buy you food, clothes and housing so that you can live where you want.”
Sam and Dean react with shock. “No fucking way we accept!” Dean claims. Sam can’t think of the idea of having an actual permanent home. It was part of his dream of living a normal life, but getting it thanks to a servant of the Vast feels wrong.
“Dean,” Castiel comments like they are the dumb ones “I have a lot more money than I know what to do with, and your father will know where you live.”
Sam and Dean don’t have a proper home. It’s always been temporary houses if not (more likely) hotel rooms since they were children and their mom died.
“Come on,” Dean says instead, “we aren’t worth your time either. Sure, you have who knows how much riches, but we always were raised to only take what was strictly necessary. Don’t buy us clothes, or dear lord, a house.”
“But I want to, and you need to keep the money you have to buy new weapons. I wouldn't know where you Hunters get those.” Castiel doesn’t really seem to understand what the problem is.
Sam remembers wearing second-hand clothes from Dean, that Dean already got from a bin. They have eaten so much cheap pasta. Dean straight-up gambled to try to get enough money to buy Sam a birthday gift when they were minors. Sure, they are now both adults who can have jobs, but Dean has no formal education, and Sam doesn’t want his brother to HHunt if he could turn him into something like John.
“No need to buy us a new house. We can just live at your place.” Sam says instead, to Dean's complete surprise. Of course, it’s not great for Sam either. He wanted to study in California, living in Texas means he needs to find another school. But as Dean pointed out, they know to sacrifice meaningless dreams. “I saw that there were a lot of rooms upstairs. Unless the fact that we live here is a problem. But you aren’t affiliated to the Lonely. I promise we won’t crowd your space.”
Sam tries to give puppy eyes. Castiel seems completely unfazed. Dean, meanwhile, seems to have figured the same as Sam that living with Castiel means they will owe less money to the guy later on, ironically enough. Also, he is a good source of information on Avatars. And friendly to Dean, for whatever reason. They can use this. Like the women ready to help a little when they were younger and Dean used his little brother for pity points. Shameful? Probably. Necessary? Yes.
“Yeah, that sounds fine.” Dean says with tiredness. He smiles at Castiel, a bit seductively, like when Dean thinks he can sell himself as an escort to make some money. (He promised Sam he wouldn't sell his body, but Sam isn’t an idiot. There’s been times where he was out for the night.) “Please, Cas. I know it’s a lot to ask.”
“Well, if you prefer.” Castiel folds immediately. Damn. Now, Sam will need to make sure this over 80 monster doesn’t actually touch Dean, but even Dean seems confused by how much Castiel is ready to do what Dean wants. “Maybe we shall see tomorrow. You two must be tired, if you aren’t Avatars. I must have a bed somewhere…”
There is a bed, covered in dust. Apparently, Avatars don’t really sleep either.
As soon as they have their room, they ask Castiel if he has a washing machine. When he responds positively, they ask him to leave them alone as they take off the last of their dirty clothes. Sam makes sure it’s not Dean who slightly opens the door to drop the pants and shirts outside, just in case. Castiel doesn’t seem to be waiting to take a peak.
Instead, he calmly asks Sam: “Is it okay that you share the same bed?” Sam winces. “When Hunting, we generally took the cheapest room possible. Until I hit puberty, Dean and I always shared a bed. We still sometimes do. Your bed is VERY large, it will be fine.”
Castiel scrunches his nose at that. “This seems… inelegant. And pretty bad for your two who don’t have the blessing of The Hunt.”
Sam refrains from shouting at Castiel that not every group of Avatar has unimaginable wealth like the Fairchilds. It hit a lot closer to the problems Sam had with the way John raised them than he would prefer. Learning his father wasn’t even needing to eat or sleep because of his transformation doesn’t ease the hurt. At all. But Sam isn’t sure if it makes it worse. It hurts, just in a different way.
Instead, he sighs, and admits: “Hunters don’t have permanent homes. Money goes into buying bullets. And silver objects to melt. In salt to banish ghosts. The only thing we will miss from our life with John was the car.” Sam knows how deeply Dean cares about the Impala. Sam does too, no matter what he pretends.
Before closing the door, Sam tells the semi-horrified Avatar (Hah. A being as old as WWI is more scared by the fact that the Hunters were running from social services just like they run after demons than by the Hunters themselves), in a semi-joking tone: “Didn’t you hear, Hunters are always moving. Earth Avatars find a nice hole, Vast avatars go to town with observatories or build towers in the middle of Skyscrappers, Eye Avatars have their little Institutes of knowledge, and Hunters can only build metaphorical homes in packs. Good night, Castiel!”
Sam closes the door and leans against it, crying silently about the loss of the life he had until now, even if he did not like it. His brother hugs him and leads him to the bed. There are no curtains or anything to block the skyview, Vast Avatar house, so the brothers can see one another, their head peaking out of the covers. The bed is rigid.
“Just like one of the many motels we lived in, hey, Sammy.” Dean tries to joke.”Just with a servant of the fear of open spaces and the sky rather than a manager who doesn’t know what goes bump in the night.”
Sam tries to smile: “Maybe this will help you get over your fear of planes. You must be the first person Castiel felt bad for scaring.”
Dean shoves his head against the pillow so that Sam doesn’t see his face.
Finally, he declares: “I’m sorry, Sam. For everything.”
Sam tells him: “Don’t be. You didn’t have any more control on this than I did. Focus more on the face that we’re alive thanks to Castiel. Maybe you’ll get a formal education too. We’ll get one of the Winchester uninterrupted planning sessions tomorrow. Just... not about hunting monsters, for once.”
The “Oh yeah?” His brother gives him is muffled.
“Hum-hum.” Sam nuzzles closer for comfort. Smelling his brother is bed is always Sam’s biggest indicator of safety. “We’re gonna have to find a way for Castiel to not spend money on us.”
That has the intended effect. Dean gives a mock slap and tells him to go to sleep.
In his nightmare, Sam is Watching as his mother burns.