[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]

"So far being the important part there," Sam says, as bracing and supportive as he can. He scans the horizon ahead and eyes the building. "Is that your place?"

[totalitarstupetballs]

"It's the Blacksmith's."

She pulls the truck to a halt a fair distance from the building, which looks like a house and shop pushed together, the yard filled with metal detritus. There's a no trespassing sign that she chooses to ignore, unbuckling herself and reaching for the skull and wine. "Let's go see what she has to say."

[gavemea_45]

"You weren't kidding about her being a loner," Dean observes. Sam slides out and shuts the passenger side door, then joins him in walking around to Waverly's side.

[totalitarstupetballs]

"Nope."

She clutches the bottle in one hand and the box in the other and starts crunching across the snow, headed toward the barn that seems to function as a workshop. As she comes nearer, the door slides open, and a dark-haired woman with an exasperated expression steps out. "You did see the "No Tresspassing" sign, didn't you?" she calls, annoyed.

"Uh – " Waverly swallows and finds her courage. "I was wondering... I need to talk with you."

The Blacksmith looks her over. "And you think an eight dollar bottle of pinot's going to make me listen?"

[gavemea_45]

"Told you we should have brought whiskey," Dean mutters. Sam resists the urge to elbow him and steps forward to Waverly's side.

"Not 'make,'" he says, with a warm, easy smile. "More as a friendly gesture."

[totalitarstupetballs]

"Uh-huh." The Blacksmith glances over Sam and Dean, sizing them up. Although she's a woman alone out here by the woods with no company but the lonely prairie, she doesn't seem afraid or worried, only annoyed. "I know she's an Earp. Second one I've seen today."

With a tip of her head toward Waverly. "Who are you?"

[gavemea_45]

"Not an Earp. I'm Sam," he says. "My brother and I are friends of Wynonna's, and Waverly too. From down south."

It's not too much of a stretch, all things considered.

[totalitarstupetballs]

The Blacksmith narrows her eyes at him, but Waverly jumps in before she can say anything else. "Please," she says. "My favorite uncle in the world just left me this."

She tips the box so the woman can see the skull inside. The Blacksmith steps forward, glance dropping to the skull, and sighs. "Curtis McCready," she says. "I shoulda known."

She turns and strides back into the workshop, gesturing for them to follow. "Hurry up."

[gavemea_45]

He trades a swift look with Dean. "Looks like she definitely knows something," he murmurs, as they move to follow Waverly inside.

[totalitarstupetballs]

The Blacksmith jerks her chin at a table, over which hangs a series of antique cattle prods. "Take off your coat," she tells Waverly. Inside, the shop is almost uncomfortably warm from the fire blazing off to one side, so Waverly does as she's asked, watching as the Blacksmith goes to stoke the flames with a poker, muttering to herself as she does.

"Come here," she says, finally, and motions for Waverly to kneel near the fire. "Set that skull here."

Here being a small table made of hammers, their heads pointed inward. Waverly sets the skull atop the metal circle they make, and, at the Blacksmith's gesture, puts her hand on top of the skull.

[gavemea_45]

“Uh,” Dean starts. Sam’s right there with him. “What’s that for?”

[totalitarstupetballs]

"The Keeper of the Bones must be bound to the skull," the Blacksmith says, stirring coals with the poker. When she stops, she leaves the iron there to slowly turn crimson with heat. "I did the same ceremony for her uncle."

[gavemea_45]

“What does it mean to be Keeper of the Bones?” Sam presses.

[totalitarstupetballs]

"She is charged with protecting the skull," the Blacksmith says, stooping as she does to collect some scrapings of ash from the fireside. "Do you want to ask questions, or will you let me work?"

[gavemea_45]

“Will it hurt her?” He’s not sure he trusts the witch, and he can already see Wynonna’s reaction. “Waverly, are you sure about this?”

[totalitarstupetballs]

In answer, the Blacksmith looks at Waverly. "Your boyfriend seems like the over-protective type."

"Not my boyfriend," Waverly tells her, then gives Sam a comforting smile. "It's okay, Sam. If Uncle Curtis was bound like this, it couldn't be all that bad, right?"

[gavemea_45]

It hadn’t helped him, seeing as he’s dead, Sam knows, but from what Wynonna said it wasn’t the cause of his death either. “If you’re sure.”

[totalitarstupetballs]

Waverly presses certainty into her smile. "I'm sure."

She nods to the Blacksmith. "Go ahead."

[gavemea_45]

He still doesn’t like it, but it’s her choice. Sam takes a step back, next to Dean, and watches the Blacksmith closely.

[totalitarstupetballs]

The Blacksmith nods, then takes up a pinch of the soot she'd gathered. Leaning over, she begins sprinkling it gently over the hand Waverly has on the skull. "I ask the Earth to give up this ash," she says. Recites, really, her voice careful and gentle as though she were in prayer.

When a small pile of ash has collected on Waverly's hand, the Blacksmith bends closer. "I ask the air – "

She cups her hands around the space where Waverly's hand and the skull sit, then blows gently, scattering the ash off Waverly's skin with a slight tickling sensation. " – to silence its name." The Blacksmith turns, cupping her fingers into a bowl of water, and drizzles it over both hand and skull. "I ask the water to cleanse this girl."

Waverly breathes, keeping her hand steady, making faces but not moving an inch.

[gavemea_45]

Earth, air, water—-

Sam narrows his eyes and watches the witch closely.

[totalitarstupetballs]

The Blacksmith reaches for the poker she'd left sitting in the coals, and Waverly tenses, wincing, but doesn't lift her hand. "I ask the fire – "

Gentle heat over her knuckles. When she cracks an eye, she sees the Blacksmith waving the poker over the back of her hand, not close enough to burn. "To loosen its hold."

Finished, she sets the poker back with a clang, then bends over skull and hand once more. "Free from the tethers, purified by the elements, Waverly Earp, you are now open to receive this fragment of man into your life. Do you accept?"

Waverly, eyes closed, nods. "I do," she says, firmly, then blinks her eyes open in consternation. "Wait," she whispers. "Did I just marry a skull?"

[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?”