[AU] two worlds, a lot of demons, and a new set of problems

[gavemea_45]

It's still hard to believe it's over; that the yellow-eyed demonic bastard they'd spent their whole lives hunting is finally dead.

Sam figures it'll sink in eventually. Given everything else -- right now he's still pretty numb.

He's also desperately tired, but that doesn't matter. There's something he needs to do, and he can't afford to delay.

He waits until they've settled in for the night, and then waits still longer. Once Dean's been asleep for half an hour, Sam picks up his messenger bag -- already stuffed with books and his computer -- and heads straight for the bar.

He orders black coffee and snags a table with a good view of both doors and the stairs, then pulls out the first of the old texts and starts to search through it.

There's work to do.

Comments

[gavemea_45]

“I freaking hope not,” Dean mutters. “That’s gonna be awkward as hell.”

Sam stares at him. “Dude.”

“What? You know I’m right.”

[totalitarstupetballs]

"You are connected," the Blacksmith whispers, her hands floating over Waverly's smudged knuckles. "You are as one. The Keeper of the Bones, and the Stone Witch's Son."

Something goes strange with the last words: suddenly, her voice is too low, too echoing, layered as though several dozen other voices are speaking along with her. Or through her. The Blacksmith gasps and pulls her hands away as though she'd been burned. Waverly, not understanding but acting purely on reflex, does the same, then looks towards the woman, concerned.

What she sees doesn't give her much comfort. The Blacksmith's face is drawn; her hands are up as if to protect herself. "What have I done?" she whispers, horrified.

No. Not horrified. Terrified.

[gavemea_45]

“Waverly?” Dean’s voice is sharp, and his gaze is level on the blacksmith. “You okay?”

Sam stares at the woman. “What do you mean, the Stone Witch’s son?”

[totalitarstupetballs]

"I'm okay," she reports, though her voice is shaky. The Blacksmith shakes her head at Sam's question, though it seems to be more a denial of what just happened than an argument for him. "When I bonded Curtis to the skull, I didn't know whose it was," she says, harsh and rough. With a lurch to her stomach, Waverly realizes the woman is panicking. "It never told me."

"What?" Waverly begins, but the Blacksmith interrupts her. "She's going to be coming for me. I need protection."

Getting up, she moves distractedly around the workshop, looking for something she can't seem to locate. "I need to find some salt."

[gavemea_45]

“Sam?” Dean snaps. Automatically, Sam digs in his pockets. It’s not the full kit, but it’s something.

“Here.” He tosses the little bag to the blacksmith. “How long do we have before she gets here?”

[totalitarstupetballs]

The Blacksmith catches the bag by reflex, staring at them with the dark, hunted eyes of a prey animal. "We?" she says. "No. You have to go."

Waverly half-turns, sliding a glance askance at the skull. "Who's coming? Am I in danger?"

The Blacksmith turns toward her, coming closer. "Of course you are!" she says, half sharp, half reverent. "This is what it means to be blessed."

She reaches for, but doesn't touch the skull, pulling her hands away at the last moment as distress crawls across her face. "You poor sweet girl. What was Curtis thinking?"

[gavemea_45]

“Okay. Crazy chick is crazy,” Dean concludes. “You better not send this witch after her, you hearing me?”

Wynonna is going to kill them both, Sam thinks. “How much danger?” he demands. “Is she drawing threats to her now?”

[totalitarstupetballs]

"I'll do my best to hold her off," the Blacksmith says, but there's something unsettled and grim in her tone. She turns her hunted, frightened glance on Sam. "She'll come for me first. You have to go."

Waverly gets up, grabbing the skull and setting it back in its box. "Come on," she tosses at the brothers over her shoulder, before giving the Blacksmith an apologetic glance. "I'm sorry."

[gavemea_45]

Dean draws his gun and leads the way out into the open air and the cold. Sam stays by Waverly, prepared to guard their backs.

"We need to get to somewhere we can secure," he mutters.

[totalitarstupetballs]

The way Dean moves out ahead of them, scanning the landscape as he goes, shoulders up and ready for a fight, reminds her more of Dolls than anything else. Waverly clutches the box with the skull and only realizes once they get to the truck that she'd forgotten the bottle of wine.

"I'll take you back to Shorty's," she says, shaking her head to clear it. "To get you back through the door. I'm sorry for getting you involved."

[gavemea_45]

"Don't apologize," Sam tells her. "It's okay. And we're not going through the door until we know you're safe. Or else you're coming with us."

[totalitarstupetballs]

"I'll be fine," she says, hoping it's true. "Who knows how long Uncle Curtis had this thing?"

She opens the truck door and gestures them inside. "And I have Wynonna."

[gavemea_45]

"Good question," Dean says. "Any idea how long he had it? Who's the Stone Witch?"

"Nothing against Wynonna," Sam points out, "But leaving you alone and unprotected until she gets back... let's just say that doesn't sound like a good plan."

[totalitarstupetballs]

Once they're in the truck, Waverly starts the engine and spins the wheel, pointing them back toward town. "Not sure," she admits. "But based on the Blacksmith's reaction, I'm guessing no one good."

[gavemea_45]

Either Wynonna hasn't had a chance to talk to her sister about it, or she's keeping secrets, or the weird time glitches from the bar are in force. Sam promises himself he'll talk to Wynonna as soon as possible, and just nods.

"Generally speaking the kind of witch who goes by a title like that isn't anyone you want to know," he says. "At least where we're from. How much salt do you have at Shorty's?"

[totalitarstupetballs]

"Plenty," Waverly promises. "Table salt and road salt, both."

She glances in the rearview, worried, as they leave the Blacksmith's shop behind. "Guys, do you think she'll be okay?"

[gavemea_45]

Sam trades a look with Dean, who looks grimly back at him. "Depends on how fast she gets the salt set up," is Dean's opinion. "Seems clear we wouldn't be doin' her any favors by sticking around, though."

[totalitarstupetballs]

"I guess."

She sounds unconvinced, but grips the wheel a little more firmly and accelerates the old truck towards town. "But we can make Shorty's pretty safe. And I can hole up at the homestead later."

[gavemea_45]

Sam eyes the skull in its box, then glances back at Waverly. "Sure you don't want to burn that thing?"

[totalitarstupetballs]

"Somehow I think it's even more important I keep it safe, now," she says, almost apologetically.

He's just trying to protect her. "At least until I know more."

[gavemea_45]

"Okay," Sam says, a little dubiously. Her world, her rules. He catches Dean's slight shrug and is pretty sure he knows what his brother's thinking.

"We'll help you get the bar set up with salt lines, though. At the very least."

[totalitarstupetballs]

Waverly smiles at him, trying to put as much comfort into it as she can. "Thanks."

There's still a smudge of ash on the back of her hand. She rubs it on her jeans, trying to clean it off. "Sounds like all this is old hat to you two."

[gavemea_45]

"Pretty much," Dean tells her. "All part of the family business, right Sammy?"

"Right," Sam murmurs. "It can take some getting used to, I know."

[totalitarstupetballs]

"No, it's...

She pauses, trying to figure out how to put what she's feeling into words. "It's nice. I told you about the curse and neither of you called me crazy. They locked Wynonna away for talking about it."

[gavemea_45]

"Civilians'll do that," Dean says. "We're hunters. It's different."

Sam glances at him and then back at Waverly. "Yeah. I mean, it sounds like there's not a lot of people around here who are willing to accept the truth. Most people don't want to, if they don't have to, and will come up with all kinds of reasons and excuses to explain stuff that doesn't make sense to them," he says, gently. "For us ... I guess it'd be a little like if you'd gotten involved with Black Badge from the beginning. Only, you know, unofficial."

He glances back at Dean. "Supernatural FBI. Like the X-Files, only hunter-style. So it seems."

Dean stares at him, gobsmacked. "No shit?"