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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.

Date: 2023-02-02 11:11 pm (UTC)
totalitarstupetballs: by Lizzie @ helpersofindie (tumblr) (020)
From: [personal profile] totalitarstupetballs
Waverly presses certainty into her smile. "I'm sure."

She nods to the Blacksmith. "Go ahead."

Date: 2023-02-02 11:18 pm (UTC)
totalitarstupetballs: by Lizzie @ helpersofindie (tumblr) (021)
From: [personal profile] 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.

Date: 2023-02-02 11:25 pm (UTC)
totalitarstupetballs: by Lizzie @ helpersofindie (tumblr) (019)
From: [personal profile] 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?"

Date: 2023-02-02 11:35 pm (UTC)
totalitarstupetballs: by Lizzie @ helpersofindie (tumblr) (021)
From: [personal profile] 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.
Edited Date: 2023-02-02 11:38 pm (UTC)

Date: 2023-02-02 11:43 pm (UTC)
totalitarstupetballs: by Lizzie @ helpersofindie (tumblr) (021)
From: [personal profile] 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."

Date: 2023-02-02 11:55 pm (UTC)
totalitarstupetballs: by Lizzie @ helpersofindie (tumblr) (021)
From: [personal profile] 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?"

Date: 2023-02-03 03:17 am (UTC)
totalitarstupetballs: by Lizzie @ helpersofindie (tumblr) (021)
From: [personal profile] 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."

Date: 2023-02-03 01:36 pm (UTC)
totalitarstupetballs: by Lizzie @ helpersofindie (tumblr) (021)
From: [personal profile] 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."

Date: 2023-02-03 01:59 pm (UTC)
totalitarstupetballs: by Lizzie @ helpersofindie (tumblr) (021)
From: [personal profile] 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."

Date: 2023-02-03 02:11 pm (UTC)
totalitarstupetballs: by Lizzie @ helpersofindie (tumblr) (020)
From: [personal profile] 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."

Date: 2023-02-03 02:20 pm (UTC)
totalitarstupetballs: by Lizzie @ helpersofindie (tumblr) (021)
From: [personal profile] 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?"

Date: 2023-02-03 02:53 pm (UTC)
totalitarstupetballs: by Lizzie @ helpersofindie (tumblr) (021)
From: [personal profile] 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."

Date: 2023-02-03 03:00 pm (UTC)
totalitarstupetballs: by Lizzie @ helpersofindie (tumblr) (020)
From: [personal profile] 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."

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Sam Winchester

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