Supernatural: War of the Sons (27 page)

Julia shot Dean a cold look, but he soldiered on.

“It doesn’t give you a special destiny. It gives you attachment issues and a manageable drinking problem.”

Frustrated, Walter tried another tack. “This is bigger than all of us. We have to at least let the others weigh in.”

“Others?”

“The rest of the hunters, at our headquarters.”

Dean’s confused look drew suspicion from Walter.

“You weren’t kidding about doing things your own way. Never heard of a hunter that didn’t report in at least once in a great while.”

“We’ve never been to... ‘headquarters.’ And we don’t plan on going now.”

“I can’t let you walk off with the scroll, Dean.”

“And I can’t let you kill those people!”

Walter looked Dean in the eye and said with calm authority, “Hand back the scroll, or things are going to get ugly.”

From beneath the table, Dean heard the unmistakable click of a revolver’s hammer pulling back.

He had no choice but to comply.

Sam kicked at the dirt of the parking lot, watching the dust fly up into gloomy clouds that reflected his mood perfectly. He could hear Dean inside, talking to Walter and Julia, but didn’t want to be anywhere near that conversation. The idea that Sam’s death could halt the Apocalypse in its tracks wasn’t a new one—in fact, he himself had thought of it almost immediately after learning that he was Lucifer’s chosen vessel. To have it be Abaddon’s promised solution, however, was devastating. Sam had long ago given up on any hope of a normal life, but giving up on life entirely, along with all of those unknowing souls? He remembered what he had read about Abaddon back in New York.
I should have known this would turn out badly, I should have warned Dean.
He had wanted to find another way so badly that he had allowed them to walk into this trap.

When Dean exited the motel room and ambled toward him, Sam made a concerted effort to reign in his emotions.

“Sammy...”

“You don’t have to say it. You’re going to figure something out, we’ll stop them from committing mass murder, I know.”

“No, just... I’m sorry. I know how much was riding on that being the thing to get us out of this mess. And now, it just gets messier.”

Sam nodded toward the motel. “Where’d you leave things?”

“At gunpoint. Walter’s convinced this is his destiny, like he’s the Luke Skywalker of the Apocalypse, and that list is going to bring down the Emperor.”

“Well, it would,” Sam offered. “I mean, the plan would work, right? Cut off the angels from their vessels, they can’t fight the final battle—even using backups.”

“You’re not actually thinking about this, are you?” Dean asked, his brow furrowing.

“I’m... I don’t know. What I do know is that if it came down to it, we’d both...”

“We’d do what we had to do,” Dean said. “Hell, we’ve both died before. But we’re not there yet. And this isn’t just
our
lives we’re talking about, it’s 2,000 people, probably mostly children. People that have no part in this besides drawing the short straw, genetically speaking.”

Sam nodded his agreement, but his heart wasn’t in it. Part of him had always wished for an easy way out, and sudden lack-of-existence would certainly do the trick. He tried to change the subject.

“What are they going to think when they get to the end of the list, and there we are?”

“Let’s not even go there,” Dean replied. “What I don’t get is why Abaddon would send us here in the first place. Says he wants to defeat the Devil and go on sipping pina coladas for the rest of eternity on Earth. But think about it, if we destroy all the vessels, that means his, too.”

“So he’d be stuck in Hell.”

“And he said that he wanted Lucifer to be destroyed entirely, but this would just keep him locked up,” Dean added.

“With Abaddon stuck guarding him,” Sam continued.

Both of them paused to reflect on the pretzel that was temporal mechanics. Then Sam chimed back in. “He must not have known exactly what was on the scroll...”

“Or he’s just another angel douche, playing us for fools,” Dean said bitterly.

“Where does that leave us?”

“Screwed, as usual,” Dean said.

“What if... what if we’re the ones who destroy it?” Sam ventured.

“Back up.”

“In 2010, history records that the last page is missing or destroyed. What if
we’re
the ones who destroy it? To stop Walter from fulfilling his... destiny, or whatever.”

“Then we’re going to have to fight our way past Walter to get it,” Dean answered. “He’s not going to let that thing out of his sight again, not after we got the slip on him the last time.”

Sam looked at Dean seriously. “Could you do it?”

“Kill Walter?” The words rolled a little too effortlessly off Dean’s tongue.

Outwardly, it seemed as though the notion didn’t faze Dean, but Sam knew it did. Dean would never admit to having a soft spot, but right now, it was the exact size and shape of Julia. In fact, it was a novelty for Sam to be on the other side of their usual dynamic—instead of being the lovestruck kid brother falling for the wrong woman, he was the protective one waiting for the right time to intervene. After what had happened with Ruby, Sam doubted if he’d ever again be able to have a healthy relationship with a woman.
Not that it matters, since I’ll probably be dead soon. God, that wasn’t morbid at all.

Dean stared back at the motel room.

“No. Probably couldn’t,” he conceded.

“Guess we need another plan,” Sam said, relieved by his brother’s candid response.

“Yeah.” Dean kicked at the dirt, billowing it into a gloomy cloud, matching the one Sam had made earlier. “I think I’ve got one.”

Later that evening, Dean went looking for Julia. He found her scrubbing the bands of her car’s CB radio, listening for any hint of voices in the static. Before alerting her to his presence, he took the opportunity to watch her with her guard down. He imagined that she carried herself differently when she thought no one was watching—that he could see the ‘real’ Julia underneath the layers of defenses.

“I know you’re watching me, Dean, and it’s creepy.”

Guess that theory’s shot
.

“I came to see if we could mend some fences,” Dean said.

“Nothing to mend. You made it pretty clear what your intentions are regarding the scroll.”

“And now we share the biggest secret that anybody’s ever kept. The key to stopping the Devil. And that means we’re going to have to work on our trust issues.”

Wearily she looked at Dean. “I don’t have the energy to get into all of our issues.”

“The way I see it, I have no choice but to trust you.”

“Why’s that?” she asked.

“Because without your help, I’m not going to be able to stop your dad from murdering a lot of innocent people. And the only way I’ll be able to convince you to help me is to tell you the complete God’s honest truth, and that means trusting you not to flip out when you hear it.”

“I’m a big girl.”

Dean sized her up. “Not that big.”

“My dad has been working toward this his whole life. What makes you think I can convince him of anything?”

“You’re his daughter. That’s how daughters work. Look at Paris Hilton, she runs around showing off her hoo-ha and her dad just keeps refilling her checking account.”

“Who?”

“Right. See, that’s the problem. Different frames of reference.”

“Get to the point, Dean.”

“Fine. You and I are both hunters. We both have missions to complete, it’s just that... mine has taken me a little farther from home.”

“How far?”

“Fifty-six years.”

Dean could see that Julia was trying to process the information, but she gave no indication as to whether she believed it was true or not.

“Let me go back to the beginning,” Dean said.

“That would be helpful.”

“With a father like yours, you must know the story of Lucifer and Michael. Lucifer loves God more than anything else, but can’t stand his creations. Us. He doesn’t think we deserve to live in Paradise. He rebels, and big brother Michael has to put him down. Sweet family story.”

With a flick of her wrist, Julia turned off the buzzing CB radio, focusing her attention on Dean.

“Lucifer spends all his time in the pit gearing up for the rematch. But, it’s not that simple. First, he has to be let out. Second, the rematch has to take place on Earth, so he has to find the perfect meatsuit to jump into, and Michael has to find his. And here’s the kicker, their vessels... have to be brothers. ‘So it is in Heaven, so shall it be on Earth.’”

Realization began to dawn on Julia’s face. Dean hurried to finish before the inevitable questions started.

“A battle for the fate of Earth, fought by two of the names on that list in there. And it’s true, if all those bloodlines were cut, the angels would be all dressed up with no place to go. But Walter’s wrong about one thing. They’re not strangers.”

“You...”

“... and Sam. Hounded by this crap since birth. And fifty-five years from now, Lucifer will be freed. The Apocalypse will start. And we’ll find a way to stop it.
Without
killing hundreds of people.”

Julia turned away, pushed one step too far.

“So, let me get this straight, you’re a time-traveling angel-vessel from the future.”

“I’m
the
angel vessel. Michael’s.”

“And Sam... is Lucifer.”

“His vessel. Yes. But angels, even fallen ones, aren’t like demons—they need permission to come in. And Sam won’t give it.”

“If you really believe that, you wouldn’t be so desperate to find another way to stop him.”

“I trust my little brother.”

“You don’t trust anyone, Dean. Even now, you’re thinking of ways to take back everything you just said.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because that’s what I’d be doing. This line of work isn’t designed to let people make friends. Even if they’re family.”

“Well, Sam’s all I’ve got,” Dean said. “And if you think I’m going to let Walter murder him...”

“If your story’s true, you’ve seen the start of the Apocalypse. And as a hunter, you’re not willing to do whatever it takes to stop it?”

“There’s another way. We’ll find it.”

“We go out every day and put our lives on the line for other people. This is the single biggest evil sonofabitch there ever will be, and that’s not big enough for you to lay down in front of?”

“Hunters don’t lay down. If I’m going down, I’m going down swinging.”

Julia’s mouth curled into a half-smile. “Okay.” She turned away from him. “Right answer. But... what makes you think there’s another way? Chances like this don’t come twice...”

As earnest as he’d ever been, Dean moved to look her right in the eye.

“I have to believe that there is. Your dad... he
wants
his destiny. Sammy and me, we don’t. Most days, I wake up and feel like running. But this is what we’re saddled with, so we’re going to find our way out from under it. But fifty-six years from now. Not today. Not like this.”

“You said you’d put your trust in me, but you’re asking me to put a hell of a lot of trust in you. I’m supposed to trust my grandchildren’s lives to you being able to punt your way out of this.”

“I thought you didn’t want the picket fence.”

“I want it, Dean, I’m just smart enough to know I’ll never get it,” she said sadly.

Dean was entirely spent. There was nothing else he could say to her that hadn’t already been said, so he went back to the beginning.

“Talk to Walter.”

She nodded, but didn’t say a word. Her facial expression was unreadable.

“We save people. We don’t murder them.”

“Let me sleep on that,” she said as she walked away.

* * *

It was late, and Dean forced himself to go to bed. There was nothing for him to do besides wait, putting him in an uncomfortably passive position. As a hunter, his tactic had always been to keep moving, to keep testing every option until he found a solution, but that rarely involved letting a woman ‘sleep on’ the most important decision of her life.

Sam was already asleep in his bed. Instinctively wary, Dean locked the door to their room and checked the windows were sealed. He trusted Julia; he had to. But now she knew that, in theory at least, Sam’s death could save the world from the Apocalypse, it didn’t hurt to take some precautions.

Despite all of the thoughts swirling in his head, the comfortable mattress and backlog of sleep deprivation quickly took its toll, and he fell asleep with his shotgun beside him.

When Dean awoke, the sun was shining brightly in through the motel window.
It’s got to be least 10 a.m.
, he realized.

Swinging out from under the covers, Dean noticed the empty bed next to his. He had a moment of panic—where was Sam? But he pushed it aside,
Sam always wakes up early. He’s probably grabbing some coffee
. Stepping outside, he felt the cool morning breeze on his skin. It would have been refreshing, if he wasn’t in such a hurry to hear what Julia had to say.

Stopping outside her door, he raised his hand to knock, then thought better of it.
Serious morning breath. Should have brushed before I came over
. He and Julia obviously had no future together—since her future was in the distant past—but that didn’t mean Dean had given up entirely.

As he turned back toward his room, Julia’s door swung open.

“Dean,” Sam said, framed in the open doorway, a broken look on his face. “We have a problem. They’re gone, and they took the scroll.”