[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]

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?”

[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."