“With or Without You” PART 3

*** D *** “Good job, dear Eldon,” said Eve, patting the young man’s cheek as she watched fall to the ground from the second story of Styne Manor. She had returned to the form of the -haired girl who’s body had been sacrificed to summon her. “I couldn’t finish him off,” Eldon said after checking through the rifle’s scope. Eve headed back down to the basement. “A wound like that? He will die – slowly. Our enemies will be occupied and suffering in the meantime. I will inform your father you did quite well indeed.” At the far end of the lower level, opposite from where Dean and the golem had broken out of the house, was the main operating theater. As Eve entered, Jacob Styne, the eldest son, was lying on the table. A pretty young woman in an old- fashioned nurse’s outfit stood near Jacob’s feet with tools ready on the surgeon table. Hunched over his left arm, Cyrus was applying a stitch with shaking hands while Monroe watched. “Easy… easy,” said Monroe. “Make sure the stitch is straight. The thread must be respected, or the spell is lost.” Cyrus swallowed his nervousness and nodded. Eve thought it was novel to be around someone less afraid of her than a mere human, but all of the sons had refused a request or two of hers, but they had never refused Monroe. The Thule that would sometimes visit the manor showed her the proper respect. She wondered if they could behold her true power, or if it was because she had killed one of them for attempting a spell on her. It was delightful when he came back to life twelve hours later, and the other times as she spent the next two days killing him over and over in creative ways. When she finally grew bored, she let him leave with a stern warning. “Done!” Cyrus sighed in relief as he stepped back. Jacob sat up on the table and admired his new left arm. The stitch had been applied just below the elbow so that now his forearm and hand looked like they were covered in blue henna tattoos. “How does it feel?” asked Eve. Jacob flexed his fingers and said, “Good. Better than new.” Eve grabbed the back of the nurse and shoved her closer. “Do give it a try.” Jacob stretched out his arm and the tattoos on it began to glow. Blue light erupted from his palm and surrounded his hand before he placed it on the nurse’s forehead. She struggled for a second, then her eyes flashed blue a moment before they rolled back, and she collapsed on the floor. “I’d call that a success,” said Eve. “I’ll find some volunteers to use the rest of the djinn’s parts on,” said Monroe before picking up a clipboard and making notes on it. “Might take the right arm myself. It would be helpful to have anesthetic ready at hand.” “Eldon has pleased me, Monroe dear. He should get something… special.” Monroe looked up from the clipboard. “Really? What did you have in mind?” “You have no idea the things I will bring you,” said Eve as her eyes became unfocused. “There is a kitsune nearby who has been… too considerate of man. His claws will look good on Eldon.”

Elsewhere in Shreveport, Louisiana, a black, ’67 Chevy Impala roared down the highway. “I think you can slow down! They’re not following us,” said Claire. Jo glanced at the rearview mirror. “Are you sure? That actually makes me more nervous.” Anna was leaning over the seat, coaching the golem on holding her jacket against Dean’s bullet wound while Professor Brunswick shed any extra clothing he had to convert into bandages. “I need my kit – where’s my kit?” she asked. “We need to get him to a hospital,” said Jo. “In a town controlled by the Stynes? Why don’t we just drive back to the manor and ask them for a band-aid?” “I doubt we can fix it in a motel room!” snapped Jo. Anna plopped back down in her seat and buckled in. “The further away we are, the safer the hospital. But the longer we drive, the less they can do for him,” she said, with eyes closed, rubbing her forehead in thought. “Don’t you dare make a deal for him,” said Jo. “He’ll never forgive you.” “After we closed up Hell, any demons left topside won’t come near us,” Anna replied. “Can’t you like, heal him yourself? Or ask another angel?” asked Claire. “I don’t have any grace,” said Anna, “and we locked up Heaven too – the angels are even less willing to talk to us.” “That leaves magic, science, or time travel,” said Jo. “So unless you know any witches or mad scientists, we need to pick an ER.” “Just… just take us to the motel.” “I have been,” said Jo as she pulled the car into the parking lot. “What’s the plan?” asked Claire. “Everybody out,” ordered Anna. “Leave the keys and my husband.” As everyone climbed out of the Impala, Anna opened the glovebox and grabbed the spring assisted pocketknife stashed in there. They watched as she moved to the back seat and used the knife to cut open Dean’s shirt. She drew the blade across her left palm, then used the fingers on her other hand to draw a sigil on Dean’s chest using her blood. “Isn’t he bleeding enough for the both of you?” asked Jo. “That sigil staves off reapers, unless you draw it with the blood of the dead or dying,” Anna said as she used the knife to cut off the hem of her shirt, then used that to start wrapping her cut, “then it does the opposite. Professor Brunswick, thank you for the help. You’re free to do whatever. Claire, get the kids and go straight back to the bunker. Wait for us there. Jo, you and Charlie are free as well, though I’d appreciate you giving my children a ride home.” And with that, Anna climbed into the driver’s seat and fired up the car. “Wait! Hold on, he’s my brother!” Jo shouted in protest. “Anna, I thought… together,” said Claire. Anna rolled down the window. “I’m sorry, but this is something I must do alone and time is short. Please, if you want to prove you’re family, get my son and daughter to safety.” She threw the car in reverse and turned the car around before pealing out of the parking lot, the golem waving goodbye.

*** S *** Rowena sat in a dark room, a single pixie floating over her head providing the only light. She was tied to the desk and chair with the gossamer chains of fairyland. Near her right hand, a quill plucked from a [fairy bird] sat in a well of kraken ink. She had to be careful, it was calling to her. Moments where she would drift off, Rowena would awaken to find her hand closer to the quill. Puck emerged from the darkness, carrying an open cardboard box. “Well, Rowena, have you an answer for us today?” “Go to hell,” she said through gritted teeth. “Soon, my lovely. Soon,” Puck said as he picked up a sheet of parchment and looked it over. “Oh this is promising.” Rowena looked down and screamed. The desk was blanketed with papers, each sheet covered in her handwriting. There were even sheets that had fallen to the floor, but when she had written any of it, she could not remember. “Oberon told us to take so many because he hoped we might find someone with a tenth of your talent, Rowena. How pleased he was to find you returned to us.” “What’s in the box?” Rowena asked, curious now what new torture would be delivered. “Don’t worry, this is for your roommate,” Puck said with that smile of his that sent shivers down her spine. “You just keep working on how to blow everything up.” With that, he continued to the other side of the room. Rowena saw the brief outline of a door in the pixie light as Puck opened it, then he vanished. She looked back down at the desk. It was empty save for the quill and ink. She fought to avoid thinking about what he said. How could one blow up the universe? Could it be done? Magic could do anything. Couldn’t it? The harder she tried not to think about it, the less she noticed the feeling of the quill in her hand.

The room beside Rowena was light with a single lightbulb dangling from a wire. Below it, a man sat tied to a chair in the middle of a circle with an ornate seven- pointed star inside it that had been drawn on the floor. Behind the chair, outside the circle, was a plain wooden table. When Puck came into the room, the man looked up, his eyes solid red and demanded, “Release me!” “Release you? After all the trouble we went through to catch you?” Puck laughed as he placed the box he was carrying onto the table. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.” “I hoped I was messing with a demon. A human soul that had once been condemned to Hell,” said Puck as he took a compact boom box out of the box and set it on the table. “A crossroads dealer to be precise.” “Then if you want something from me, you’ll have to make a deal.” “Unfortunately I have no soul to offer. That’s one of the reasons we take humans, you know? We cannot invent things like they can,” Puck said as he held up a CD to the light. A shimmer passed over his fingers and washed over the disc. “We can perfect what they’ve made, though. Improve them,” he said as he opened the lid on the boom box and placed the CD inside. “Make them better.” He closed the lid and held his hand over the electronic device. It rattled and shook on the table until Puck stepped away. He took a folding chair that was leaning against a wall and sat down in it in front of the demon, just outside the circle. “No deal? No talk,” said the demon. “You will tell me what I need to know.” The demon leaned forward and smiled. “You can’t do worse than .” Puck pulled out of his jacket a journal with a green cover and flipped it open. “Yes, according to this, demons are made when a soul literally has its humanity tortured out of it.” He smiled and said, “So we’ll have to use something… less traditional.” Puck snapped his fingers. Behind the demon, the boom box activated, and began to play the opening chords to Shark. The crossroads demon strained against his bonds. “All you have to do to make the music stop,” said Puck, “is tell me where I can find a gate to Hell.”

“Gals? Sam is turning blue,” said Victor. “They didn’t go over this in first aid,” said Donna. “We’re miles from the nearest hospital,” noted Jody. “The book!” exclaimed Alex. She opened it to the table of contents she and Sam had scribbled on a piece of notebook paper. She found the chapter she wanted and flipped to one of the many colored tabs she and Sam had put in to make the book easier to navigate. Everyone waited with bated breath as she frantically flipped through the pages. “Here!” she exclaimed, holding the book up. “A healing spell!” “What do you need for it?” Alex looked over the instructions. “I can make do with what we have on hand.” Her face grew pale. “What is it?” asked Jody. “The spell works by moving the injury onto someone else. One of us would give our healthy bones to Sam while taking his broken ones – metaphorically.” “No,” Sam probably would have shouted but it took all of his effort to gasp the word out in a whisper. “I’ll do it,” said Alex. “No!” protested Jody. “We need you to read the book.” “I can,” volunteered Eileen. “What if we all did?” asked Victor. Everybody looked at him with confusion. “If someone else takes his injuries, we’re just trading one life for another. What if instead we spread it out between the five of us? One fifth of Sam’s injuries shouldn’t kill us.” “Can you do that?” asked Jody. Alex looked again at the spell. “I don’t see why not.” Under Alex’s instructions the group worked quickly to gather what she needed. Once it was all gathered and lying beside her, Alex took a pocket knife, covered it with reagents and muttered the words as best she could figure out their pronunciations. A brief blue glow passed over the knife blade which Alex took to be a good sign. “He’s unconscious,” said Victor. “We have seconds before he’s going to start suffering irreparable brain damage.” “Going as fast as I can,” said Alex as she lifted up Sam’s arm. With the enchanted knife, she cut his palm and let his blood flow into a red solo cup they had found. “Bandage that,” she said once she thought they had enough. Eileen took Sam’s hand and began wrapping it while Alex added the next components to the cup. Alex waved her hand over it three times, speaking the magical words as she did so, then took a sip. “Everyone drink,” she ordered. Eileen, kneeling to Alex’s right, took the cup and sipped from it as she had seen Alex. It went around in this manner, with Victor being the last to drink from it. As soon as he did, Alex held her hands over Sam’s body and shouted the final part of the spell as loud as she could. A blue light washed over . His twisted arm and shattered legs straightened as the light passed over them. It then exploded from his body and struck the others kneeling beside him, knocking them all back as they all cried out in pain. Sam opened his eyes and sat upright, gasping mouthfuls of air like a drowning man. “Even one fifth of your pain hurts like hell,” groaned Victor, clutching his side. Sam looked around at the abandoned town then his friends who had just saved his life. “I have an idea.”

*** *** Jack Kline was meditating with his legs crossed on the library table in the Men of Letters bunker. They had cleaned the table off, moving the lamp, returning the books and throwing out the leftover beer bottles so that Jack could sit in the center of his home. Not that the library was the center of the bunker, but it was the center of Jack’s memories. It wasn’t going well. No matter how hard he tried, all he could think about was the impending battle, the approaching conflict, the final showdown between him and— “I give up, Jack.” Jack opened his eyes. Standing there in the bunker war room facing him, was Chuck – his left eye pure darkness, his right eye pure light. “Where did you hide them?” asked Chuck as his eyes returned to their usual blue. Jack looked down at the table. He ran his fingers over the initials that had been carved there: SW, DW, and MW. “Congratulations are in order,” said Chuck, walking forward. “It’s not easy to win hide-and-seek against the all-seeing. So where did you hide them? Where are Sam and Dean Winchester?” “They are where you can’t hurt them,” said as he stepped into Chuck’s path from behind the pillar he had been hiding. “Ah Castiel! My favorite complication. All the problems you’ve caused my stories, and yet I could never bring myself to be rid of you. You’re just… too much fun.” The angel blade dropped from Castiel’s coat sleeve into his waiting hand. He brought up, a quick, straight blow into Chuck’s chest. The blade shattered as it struck Chuck’s t-shirt, failing to even cut the ratty cloth. “Defiant unto the end,” Chuck said with a smile. “Don’t you know, Castiel, that neither of them will ever love you as much as you love them?” He reached up and touched Castiel’s cheek as he said, “The angel taught free will by man. Only to learn the most painful feature of it: rejection.” “The feelings don’t matter,” said the angel. “I cannot abandon them. But you? You don’t have to do this, Chuck.” “Oh Castiel,” Chuck said as he clasped Cas’ shoulder, “every story is only as good as its villain.”

*** D *** The door to the bunker opened with a loud squeak and Claire raced to the war room with a shotgun in hand to greet whomever was coming in. “Hey, did I miss anything?” Dean asked as he stepped inside and spread his arms. “You’re alive!” Claire cheered. Dean was barely able to make it down the stairs before she had thrown her arms around his chest and squeezed with all her might. “I won’t be if you don’t let me breathe,” he gasped. Claire released him and took a step back, her apology drowned out by the scream and bundle of energy that shot into the room and leapt at Dean with arms wide open. “Hey there, buddy,” he said, catching his son and lifting him up so the tyke could wrap his tiny arms around Dean’s neck. “They didn’t give you too much trouble, did they?” Jo, who had come into the room carrying Samantha, shook her head. “They were little angels,” she said with a wink. Anna, keeping her head down, brushed by Dean and quickly headed towards the bunker kitchen, saying nothing. “What’s wrong with mommy?” asked John. “Was that an insensitive pun?” asked Jo. “She’s had a very long drive and is tired,” Dean answered as he sat the boy onto the war room’s central table. “Give me a minute to talk to her, ok?” Jo and Claire agreed. Anna’s back was to the kitchen door, but Dean could hear the force of her chopping from there. He knocked twice on the door frame and called her name. She sniffed and wiped at her cheeks. “Can this wait until after dinner?” “No.” Anna slammed down her knife and whirled around, revealing her red, swollen eyes. “Fine. Get it out then. Yell. Shout. Call me whatever. Let’s hear it.” Dean reached up and gently wiped a tear off her cheek. “The only one here mad at you, is you.” Anna put her hand over her mouth and began trembling. “You did what you had to. I’m the last person who is in any position to judge you for that.” Anna shut her eyes and Dean pulled her into his arms. The floodgates broke and she began sobbing into his chest, her hands clutching at his jacket. “Why don’t you hate me? I’m the worst mother ever.” Dean kissed the top of her head. “Why don’t you hate me? There’s a lot of awful stuff I’ve done.” Finished sobbing, Anna pulled back. “Because you keep fighting to make sure everyone’s safe, Dean Winchester.” “And you, have the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met.” Anna smiled. “You’re exhausted. Go get some rest, I’ll take care of dinner.” “You sure?” “Yeah I just spent the day lounging about, bleeding all over the place. You’ve been driving almost a full day.” Anna took off her apron and put it on Dean who resumed chopping the vegetables. Before she went to their room, Anna hugged Dean from behind and whispered, “Until everyone comes home.” “Until everyone comes home,” he repeated.

*** S *** The front door of Rivergrove’s city hall opened and Donna entered with Eileen, both of them dragging overflowing grocery carts with them. “Dinner time!” shouted Donna. “Bring us something good?” asked Victor as he and Sam walked over to help the ladies. “You betcha!” said Donna. “Loads of steak and fresh lobster.” When Victor started digging through the carts, Donna playfully slapped the back of his head. “I’m joshin’ you, silly! Where would we cook them anyway? In the breakroom microwave? This is survival time. We be eatin’ like lumberjacks,” she said, holding up a can of Dinty Moore beef stew. Eileen noticed Sam’s downcast expression and tapped him on the shoulder. “How bad is it?” she asked vocally as well as in sign language. Sam let out a deep sigh. While the two ladies had been on a supply run through any grocery store or mini-mart they could find in the area, Sam and Victor had gathered the bodies they could find, their identifications, and then cataloged them. Beside the computer he had commandeered, there was a stack of drivers’ licenses he had just finished cross-checking against the town census. “At least four adults,” said Sam, “and twenty-three children.” Donna’s and Victor’s smiles vanished. Eileen covered her mouth in horror. “Any children at all?” she asked verbally and with sign language again. Sam shook his head. “We haven’t found any body under seventeen years old. And twenty-three are just the children we know should be here and can’t be found. We suspect—” Sam pointed to another desk where piles of cell phones and wallets waited to be examined for pictures connecting one person to another, “—that there might be even more missing.” “The fairies took them all?” asked Donna. “It would be consistent with their lore,” noted Victor. “And what demons do to kids tends to… leave signs,” said Sam. “I’m less upset now that Alex used my truck to hit one of them,” said Donna. A light chuckle rippled through the group when the front doors opened again, this time admitting Jody and Alex. Everyone turned to them. Alex was practically giddy as she hugged the old spellbook against her chest and said, “We did it!” Sam took a step forward. “You did?” Alex nodded. “We found where the fairies invaded the town. And we can use the book to go the other way.”

The group broke into a flurry of activity. A wagon and backpacks were prepared and stuffed with supplies while guns, ammo, and knives of iron and silver variety were gathered up. “You made the right call, Sam,” Victor said between the two of them. “It was a lucky guess that Rowena’s journal would even have the spell we needed.” “You’ve got good instincts. It makes you a fine agent. I’m glad you joined the Bureau.” “Sounds like you’re getting all mushy on me Agent Henricksen.” “I’ve put in the cover, taking some time off for this trip. You know what to do if I… get delayed.” “Don’t think you can hang out over there and I’ll do all your paperwork,” Sam said with a playful punch to Victor’s shoulder. “You boys need time for your chick-flick or can we get this show on the road?” Donna asked as she walked over to them. “Last chance to back out,” said Victor as he zipped up his FBI duffle bag. “Now agent Vic, you should know that every midwestern girl dreams of a trip to fairyland,” Donna said with a wink, resting her shotgun on her shoulder. “More of us should go,” said Sam. Victor shook his head. “We all know you’re the brains of this partnership while I’m the looks. Donna and I need you over here, saving the world, so all those kids we save have some place to come back to.” “You sure I shouldn’t go?” Alex asked as she packed some brown paper bags labeled with spell components. She held up some sheets of paper and said, “I wrote down the spell, but I don’t know how well you can do it.” “If we can’t, you bring us back on your own in a week,” said Donna. “Or if you all fail, open the door and get as many people to evacuate to fairyworld as possible,” said Victor. “We’ll stop this by the time you get back,” Jody said with a smile. “You two just concentrate on getting those kids.” Donna nodded and gave everyone a hug while Victor shook their hands. “Until everyone comes home,” he said. Sam nodded as Alex led everyone out of city hall towards the way to fairland. “Until everyone comes home,” he muttered to himself.

*** “Jack, listen closely,” Sam said as he finished reloading his shotgun. “These things always nest on the first floor of the house and keep their victims on the upper levels. While Dean and I are distracting them, we need you to go upstairs and get the people out.” Jack looked down at the curved knife he had been given. Sam said it was an old favorite of his. “I don’t—” “Hey,” Sam interrupted, placing his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “First rule of the family business, ok? ‘Saving people.’ You can do this. No matter what you face in there, push forward and keep pushing forward until you get those people out.” “Get everyone home,” said Dean. “What about you and Dean?” “We’ll fight as long as you need. Though if everyone’s safe, we would appreciate you letting us know so then we can really cut loose.”

Castiel was gone. Chuck blinked and turned to Jack. “You sent him away.” The author’s gaze became unfocused as Jack slid down from the table. “To Aldrich, Missouri. That’s… not where Sam and Dean are.” “Leave him out of this. It’s between you and me,” said Jack. “Fine. Tell me where Sam and Dean are.” Jack shook his head no. “Guess I’ll take it out of you the hard way, then,” Chuck said as he raised his hand. Jack flinched and stumbled back against the table as he gritted his teeth. The entire room started to shake as Chuck’s eyes narrowed. One glowed white as the other became pitch black. Jack doubled over again, but he put his hand on the table and held himself up. “Well. Someone’s been eating their Wheaties. – Wait didn’t I write that line before?” Jack, clutching his stomach, looked down and realized he had put his hand on the table’s initial carvings. He pushed himself up and turned to face the enemy. “I’ll never tell you.” “Never, is a very long time,” Chuck said before he snapped his finger. This time Jack did hit the floor, falling to his knees as he screamed in agony.

*** D *** “Thanks, Asa, that’s a big help. I recommend laying low and keeping your ears open unless you want to hunker down here with us,” Dean said into his cell phone. “A Canadian branch? I like the sound of that. Good luck and stay safe.” He hung up the call and turned to Anna who was hunched over the world map in the bunker’s war room. “I heard,” she said as she moved a disc into position. “So the Stynes are now operating in Canada too.” “Dean, I gotta be honest here, man. I don’t know how many more we can squeeze into the bunker here,” said Garth who was standing beside Dean across from Anna. “The priority right now is to get everyone safe. Then we hit the Stynes back.” Glancing across the table, Dean saw his wife’s expression. “What?” Anna sighed. “The Stynes have the advantage here. The longer we wait, the more resources they gather.” “We’re gathering resources too,” said Dean. “Not as fast as them. They have the funds and infrastructure to out spend us. On top of every monster at Eve’s disposal, the ones she can create, and whatever the Thule are up to…” “What are you saying?” asked Garth. “The longer we wait, the faster we lose the war.” Dean regarded his wife. “I’m not looking forward to this any more than you,” said Anna. “It’s your call, general,” said Dean. “What’s our move?” “Draw them out into a battle on a field of our choosing,” she answered. Any other enemy would be a fool to accept.” “But Eve and Monroe both are highly arrogant,” said Dean. “Where do you have in mind?” “Kansas City, Missouri.”

*** S *** The point of light was zooming towards Sam he was barely able to bring up his tennis racket and send it careening into a concrete wall. A couple of shotgun blasts behind him set his ear to ringing. “Did you get it?” he shouted. “No!” Jody replied as she ejected an empty shell. “Those gnomes are a pain in the ass to hit.” “See anybody else?” he asked. “No.” Eileen entered the room shouting, “All clear!” Same here, Sam signed back at her. “How’s it look?” Alex, who the question was directed to, was pressing against a large set of double doors. “Clear?” “That doesn’t sound very confident,” said Jody. Alex sighed and spun around. “There’s something mystical on the door. And the walls. But I can’t tell that it’s like… any kind of trap. Or much of anything about it.” “Maybe it’s not to keep us out,” said Sam as he guided her away. “Maybe it’s to keep something in.” Raising his leg, Sam kicked the doors as hard as he could. Beyond them was a bare room, completely empty save for a single chair sitting in the middle of it with a man chained to it. A single lightbulb dangled over the man’s head. He looked up as the four of them entered. “Who are you?” asked Sam. “Gadreel,” replied the man in a rough voice. “What are you?” asked Jody. “I am an angel of the Lord.” “Prove it,” said Alex. The man’s eyes turned blue as the light in the room began flickering. On the wall behind him, they watched the shadowy outlines of wings rise as if from his shoulders. “Wow, a real angel,” said Eileen. Sam signaled to the other to check the room while he checked the prisoner’s shackles. “How did a bunch of fairies get a hold of an angel?” “Many eons ago I made a mistake and was imprisoned,” Gadreel said with great sadness. “They found my cage dragged me from it for interrogation.” Sam realized that he could easily pick the locks holding Gadreel in place but held off on it. “What did they want to know.” “Where the door is for Heaven.” “Gadreel, you want a chance at redemption?” asked Sam. “More than anything.”

*** The right hook caught Jack on the chin and sent him sprawling onto the mat. He took a moment to rub his jaw and blink the stars out of his eyes. They were in the bunker’s gym where Dean had set up a crude boxing ring in the form of a large square floor mat. “Come on, Jack. Get back up,” said Dean, hitting his boxing gloves together. Jack pushed himself back to his feet, adjusting his padded headgear. “I don’t understand the point of this exercise.” “It’s practice for when the real fight comes,” Dean said as he tossed a jab that Jack dodged. “You need to know your limits,” he said as he threw a flurry of hooks that Jack had to use his own gloves to block. “How to think fast.” Jack hopped away from another attack. “And most importantly—” Dean lunged and drove an uppercut into Jack’s gut. The kid doubled over and dropped to one knee. “You got to learn how to push past the pain. To not give up. Got that, Jack? Keep fighting. Until your very last breath, you always keep fighting.”

Jack’s eyes flashed gold and he straightened, grabbing the underside edge of the table to steady himself. “If you want to hurt me, you’ll have to get your hands dirty.” Chuck cracked his knuckles. “Been a long time since I’ve done that. But if you insist.” He strode towards Jack, raised his fist, and Jack grabbed the black scythe that had been taped to the underside of the table. He lunged forward, swinging the blade towards his enemy’s heart. Chuck looked down. He had teleported a foot away as Jack attacked, but there was a diagonal cut across his chest. Light and shadow seeped out of the wound, until Chuck placed his hand over it and healed himself. “Really?” he asked as he did this. “You tried to lure me into a trap of my own overconfidence to hit me with a killing blow when I least expected it?” Jack stood up, tightening his grip on the scythe. Chuck began clapping. “Honest applause for you, Jack. That was always my favorite trope the Winchesters used to achieve victory. Looks like you learned well from them after all. But this is the final showdown. That’s a little… too anticlimactic.” He held out his right hand and a golden dagger with a twisting blade appeared in it. “What do you say? An old-fashioned duel where I kill you with your father’s sword?” The weapon in his hand vanished and was replaced with a dark, twisted weapon carved from an animal’s bones. “Or the weapon of your adopted father, the First Blade? Is that enough poetic irony? Oh who am I kidding.” The First Blade vanished from his hand and a silver cylinder replaced it. Chuck pressed a button on the side of it, and a red beam of light grew forth. “I’ve always wanted a fight with lightsabers. Though this is the wrong color…” Chuck turned his other hand as if he was adjusting an invisible dial, and the color of the light changed through all the colors of the rainbow, until it was a pale teal. “There. Just like the original title.” Chuck lunged, bringing the lightsaber down with such speed that Jack was barely able to raise the scythe in time to block. Jack turned the attack aside and countered, forcing Chuck to parry. His riposte was flawless, and Jack had to turn his weapon, locking the lightsaber into the scythe’s crook. Both fighters struggled to pull their weapon away, but neither would give. Chuck switched off his weapon’s blade and took a step back. “Go on,” he said. “Scythes make for poor dramatic clashes.” Without taking his eyes off Chuck, Jack straightened up. With his other hand, he slowly passed it over the blade, grunting periodically as he reshaped the scythe into a black, curved, katanna. Chuck laughed. “I see Sam shared with you his appreciation of Kurisawa films,” he said before lunging forward with an overhead strike, the lightsaber igniting. Jack brought his own blade up and blocked the attack. He pushed Chuck back and lunged with a cross body strike. Chuck spun out of the way of the blow and countered towards Jack’s left shoulder, which he parried just in time. The two traded attacks a couple more times. “The Force is strong with you, young Skywalker – but you are not a Jedi yet,” said Chuck with an unnaturally deep voice. “You’re not my father,” said Jack, swinging wide. “No, I’m technically your grandfather,” Chuck replied as the blades hit each other again. “And if you tell me where Sam and Dean are, we can do all sort of family bonding activities.” “They’re safe – from you,” Jack answered as he charged forward.

*** D *** A soft ding announced the arrival of the elevator and the shiny. Robert Styne, who was heading towards his office, stopped to see who was coming to their office. The gold-colored doors parted to reveal a woman with blood-red hair dressed in army- colored pants and jacket. “Can I help you, miss?” Her eyes narrowed. Before he realized it, Anna Winchester withdrew her gun and shot him between the eyes. “Secure the building!” she shouted to the people that began pouring out of the elevator behind her. “Bring everyone you find to me – alive.” “Why did you shoot him?” asked a nervous voice. “I can sense when someone is lying,” said Anna. “And there was nothing human left inside that man. Now how about we find a place to work, Charlie?” she said, putting her hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “I’m glad you came along. It’s going to make things a lot easier.” They found a conference room where one wall was a row of windows overlooking Kansas City while TVs hung on the others. Charlie went to work giving orders to the other hunters who were able to follow her technical instructions, while Anna oversaw the securing of the building and judging who inside was a truly innocent civilian, and who had been a party to the Stynes’ machinations. The last janitor in the building was being let outside with instructions to go home when she heard Charlie’s voice in her ear bud. Anna gave some final instructions to the ground level crew and headed back to the top floor. “I’m impressed, Charlie,” the former angel said as she entered the conference room. Three more tech-savvy hunters were seated around the table, manning the impromptu rig they had constructed. “All channels ready to go. We’re also tapped into the police feed, emergency channels, local news channels, and regional social media,” Charlie explained, pointing at the TVs which all filled with multiple boxes of streaming information. Anna sent out a mass text, letting everyone know it was time to get online. She waited until Charlie nodded then began to speak, “This is General Anna to all troops. Team leaders please give me a report and confirm signals.” “Alpha team, in position.” Anna couldn’t help but notice Charlie’s face brighten as she heard Jo’s voice. “Beta team, moving into position,” said Aaron Bass, the sound of his golem grumbling in the background. “Gamma team, ready in position,” said Garth. “Delta team, bored but in position.” This time, Anna couldn’t help but smile as she heard Dean’s voice. She waited until the remaining four teams reported in, then continued her speech. “We have successfully taken over Styne tower and converted it into our base of operations. That should get Monroe’s attention and they’ll make a move on our position soon. All teams stay alert and report anything suspicious. We’re still not sure what role Eve is going to play.” “Delta here. We’ve got a sizeable group moving in tandem towards your building. Could be workers – could be worse. Checking it out.” To Anna’s right, the TV on the opposite side of the room from where Charlie was sitting had displayed a street map of this area of Kansas City. Red dots with a Greek letter next to them had been placed on the map indicating where Anna had instructed the teams to take up position. While the channel was quiet, she moved closer to the screen, her eyes focusing on the dot marked a little triangle. The sound of gunfire, screams, and falling bodies rang out over the radio. After too many long, tense seconds, Dean’s voice came through saying, “We have a bunch of undead monsters here. Repeat – undead monsters.” “What was that?” Garth asked, giving voice to the confusion rippling over the communications. “The Thule! They’re apparently using their necromancy to bring back vampires and werewolves and worse. They have an army of monster-zombies!” “Can they be stopped?” asked Anna. Everyone waited with bated breath. “Head trauma and damage to the limbs slow them down!” reported Dean. “They seem to be flammable too. Set them on fire.” “I think we have some,” reported Jo. “Got a few over here,” said Garth. “No sign of an actual Thule, yet,” replied Aaron. Anna looked again at the map which Charlie was filling in with the reports from the teams. Anna had spread her forces in concentric circular patterns around the building. She hoped their coverage of the city blocks would catch the direction of the Styne attack. But if every team was reporting contact, that meant they were surrounded.

*** S *** “All the fairies wanted to know is how to get into Heaven?” asked Sam. Gadreel nodded. “They asked me where and how to find the doorway to Heaven.” Sam paced around Jody’s living room where they had brought the captured angel back to. Behind him on the wall was the world map he had worked with to develop, each location of a fairy/demonic conflict marked. He felt like they were on the verge of discovering Oberon’s plan, but it remained just out of reach. “Why would fairies want to go to Heaven?” asked Jody. She was sitting on the couch beside the chair Gadreel was sitting in. The angel shrugged. “I do not know. If they invaded, it would violate the treaty.” Sam stopped pacing. “Treaty?” “From long before the Garden,” answered Gadreel. “We promised to leave each other alone.” “Heaven can reach Fairyland?” asked Sam. “It is a super-positional spiritual realm. We can reach anywhere.” “Do any of the fairies go to Heaven?” asked Jody. Gadreel shook his head. “Of course not. They lack souls.” “Let’s say that we blew up the universe,” said Sam. “How?” asked Gadreel. “That’s not important right now.” “But without God, it’s impossible. Even all the archangels working together couldn’t do it.” “Pretend we did,” Sam snapped more forcefully than he intended. “What happens next? Is Heaven destroyed?” “No. All souls would go to their proper eternal abides.” “Does it end the treaty with Fairyland?” “It would not.” Sam began pacing again as he ran his finger through his long hair. “Why do they care? What do they want from Heaven?” “Did they ask about help in fighting the demons?” asked Jody. Gadreel shook his head no. “Would Hell be destroyed along with the universe?” asked Sam. Gadreel shook his head no. Sam sighed and collapsed onto the other end of the couch. “Tell us again what they asked you.” “‘Where is the door to Heaven?’” Sam and Jody both let out sighs. “I wish we knew what they were asking Crowley’s demons.” “They value secrecy,” said Sam. “Alex was reading Rowena’s journal. Seems she’s the first human to escape their grasp. When she came back here, she taught humanity the fae tricks and weaknesses like iron and true names.” “So why him?” asked Jody, pointing at Gadreel. “Why is he still alive if they value secrecy.” “Angels are not so easily slain,” he answered. “Puck might have had the strength, but you rescued me before he could return.” Sam narrowed his eyes. “Return from what?” “He said he would test my answer.” “Have they already invaded Heaven?” asked Jody. “Even in my cage I could hear the angels’ choir. Fairies have not set foot in our territory.” Sam leaned forward. “This time, when you tell us what the fairies asked you, I want you to repeat their questions, exactly.” “I did. ‘Where is the door to Heaven?’” “Those exact words?” Gadreel nodded. “What are you getting at, Sam?” “What if… what if it’s not getting into Heaven that’s the fairies’ goal? What if it was the actual door?” Jody and Gadreel stared at him. “What’s the use of a door if you’re not going through it?” asked Jody. “Gadreel, is the answer to the question a specific place?” “No,” the angel answered. “The door to Heaven can be opened almost anywhere if you know how.” “Do the fairies know how?” “Of course. I told them. Like you said, what use is it?” Sam slapped the map on the wall. “Say you pointed the doors to Heaven and Hell at each other. What would happen?” Gadreel grew pale. “It would be catastrophic. A collision of souls and opposing realms. Like smashing matter and antimatter together only infinitely worse. There’s a reason we always settle our conflicts on Earth.” “So let’s assume that’s their goal in blowing everything up,” said Sam. “How do we stop them?”

*** Jack was moping in the library when Sam walked in and handed him a bottle of beer. “Uh… Sam, I’m not exactly twenty-one.” Sam shrugged as he twisted off the top of his own drink. “Extenuating circumstances. It’s not every day you lose your grace.” “Or your brother,” Jack said as he opened his bottle with more effort than he expected. Sam’s somber face darkened. “Yeah. We’ll get him back. Dean will never stop fighting, so we owe it to him to do the same.” Jack stared at his own hands. They seemed so fragile now. Mortal. “How? How can we beat someone so powerful?” Sam chuckled and shrugged. “Story of our lives, Jack. Dean and me… we’ve always been powerless. But we kept winning.” “How do you keep doing it?” Sam took a long draught from his beer. “We use it. Your enemy’s arrogance is their weakness. Play into it – let them believe they’ve beaten you. Use their aggression to draw the enemy to where you want them. Roll with the hits into the trap you’ve made. In their overconfidence, they’ll give you an opening.”

Jack struck as hard and fast as he could, pushing Chuck backwards out of the library and into the war room. None of his strikes were even close to hitting his foe, but the writer was retreating from him. Chuck took another step back and bumped into the world map table that sat in the center of the room. It knocked him off balance for just a second and that was all Jack needed. The lightsaber had moved down as Chuck reflexively tried to catch himself. His right shoulder was exposed, and Jack’s weapon was already raised. The Nephilim swung his sword’s black blade down, towards Chuck’s neck. The blade bit into the table, cutting halfway through the metal before catching. Chuck had just vanished a split second before the deathblow. “It’s been fun, kid,” said a voice behind Jack and to his right. Jack teleported ten feet backwards right before the lightsaber would have cut him in half. His left shoulder blade even tingled from where the burning weapon had brushed his skin. Jack was right in his guess. Chuck had just teleported himself to right behind Jack and now Jack had teleported to just behind Chuck. Jack attacked with a horizontal swipe, but Chuck vanished again. Jack didn’t hesitate and teleported himself to a few feet beyond where he assumed Chuck now was. He wasn’t far off, appearing on Chuck’s left as the lightsaber passed through the air where Jack had been standing. Through the bunker they dueled in this manner, each teleporting to behind or beside the other in rapid succession, their strikes passing harmlessly through empty air. Down the halls they moved in the blinks of an eye, passing briefly through the kitchen and throwing knives and cookware at each other’s vanishing form before moving onward. Their weapons cut in the old wooden doors and gouged the marble walls as no weapon or person ever remained long enough to be hit by the other. Their duel grew faster and faster until no one could be sure who was attacking any more as the rapid teleportation began to look like two blinking lights dancing around each other. They had reached the motor pool when Chuck held up his hand and yelled, “Whoa! Stop!” Jack paused, his attack swing heading towards Chuck’s right arm. “If we’re not careful, we’ll damage the car,” Chuck said, pointing to the black, ’67 Chevy Impala that he was standing beside. Had he teleported away; Jack’s attack would have put his sword into the car’s trunk. The Nephilim nodded and the two strolled over to the garage’s wide open center driving lane. “Did I ever tell you the story about how special that car is?” asked Chuck as he shook his arms and legs before resuming his fencing stance. “Really? I have a story about how special it is too,” Jack said as he titled his head side to side, cracks echoing from his stiff neck muscles before resuming his own dueling stance. Pain exploded in Jack’s chest and his vision went white for a moment. He looked down to see a glowing teal lightsaber poking through his left lung. “Is it related to where Sam and Dean are?” asked Chuck, his voice coming from all sides. The Chuck in front of Jack faded away and he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t feel bad, kid. It was a good fight. Worthy of epics and songs.” Chuck pushed a button on the hilt of his weapon, and Jack screamed as pure agony struck every fiber of his being, dropping him to his knees as he dropped his sword. “You know this won’t kill you, right, Jack? You’re too juiced up for this to be fatal. So don’t think you just need to hold out until death claims you.” Again waves of agony washed over Jack. “Tell me where Sam and Dean are!” Raising a shaking hand, Jack pointed at the Impala. The lightsaber switched off as Chuck moved to get a closer look at the car. When he turned back to Jack, his eyes were pure white and black again. “What do you mean? They’re not in the trunk, disguised as the army men, or placed in any of the myriad of higher and lower dimensions the car occupies.” After a couple of ragged breaths, Jack was able to smile. “Did you know, I spent a year in one of your other dimensions?” Chuck’s eyes changed back to their regular blue as they became unfocused. “Oh right. The ‘world without Winchester.’” “I learned a lot during that year.”

*** D *** There was a lull in the fighting when Dean heard his phone going off. Switching off his radio, Dean moved to a quiet corner of the parking garage and said, “Must be bad if you’re using a private line, babe.” He could feel the hesitation and pain in Anna’s voice before she spoke, “Dean… We know where Eve is.” There was a long pause as she struggled to say, “And I need her to blink.” She didn’t have to say more, they had been together too long. He was the one she trusted most to understand her command and be flexible enough to accomplish it no matter the obstacles. He knew what the strain in her voice meant: she wanted anyone else to do this but had no one else she could trust to understand and carry it out. “No worries. I got this,” Dean said with his usual air of bravado. “I love you.” “I know,” she replied. The fighting had subsided for the moment and the hunters on Dean’s team were leaning or sitting around the parking garage, enjoying the breather. He unholstered his sawed-off double-barrel, the first gun he had made and shot, and loaded it with two shells filled with phoenix ash. “Hey, O’Malley!” Dean shouted as he headed to his car, checking the address Anna had texted him. The younger hunter jogged up to him as Dean got into the Impala. “We going somewhere?” he asked. Dean rolled down the window and handed his radio to O’Malley as he said, “Just me. I got to make a milk run for the misses. You’re in charge, Nick.” “Until you get back?” Dean turned the key and let the roar of his trusty car wash over him. “Yeah. Until I get back.” The gazes of the other hunters were somber as Dean pulled his car to the garage exit until O’Malley started shouting encouragement. The other hunters began shouting and cheering Dean as he pulled away. They probably would have followed him if he asked. It was ultimately his call how many of them to bring. But Dean couldn’t bear to put any more of them as risk than they already had. Besides the more soldiers Anna had at her disposal, the better her plans would work. No, it was up to him alone to make a distraction Eve couldn’t ignore. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a wallet sized photo of him and Anna holding John and Samantha. Leaning forward, he wedged it into the dashboard. “Ready for one last ride, baby?” he asked, squeezing the wheel as if to hug the vehicle. “No wait. Something’s missing…” Dean muttered to himself. He looked around the car until he spotted the box of cassette tapes that had ridden with the car as long as he had been alive. Without looking, he reached in and pulled one out at random and slid it into the tape deck. ‘RISE UP – GATHER ROUND – ROCK THIS PLACE – TO THE GROUND’ belted the recorded singer. Dean smiled. “That’s more like it,” he said. “Now let’s kick it in the ass.” Dean said as he stomped on the gas.

*** S *** Sam stepped back to admire his handiwork. All over the black, ’67 Impala were glyphs and markings scrawled with a white marker. Across its hood, along its trunk, and on both sides on all the doors, it was covered in the symbols Gadreel and Alex had shown him. “Do you see it?” asked Gadreel. Sam looked through his binoculars. The field had been the host of countless battles over so many centuries it was said the bones of fallen warriors made its bedrock. Now demons clashed with fairies as spells flew hither and yon, tearing up the landscape and mystical weapons collided with thunderous fury. In the middle of it all, Puck stood next to a towering white wall, drawing shapes into the ground with his shillelagh. Circled about ten yards radius from him looked like warding against the demons with another circle beyond that of dozens of fair folk keeping the enemy from breaking the perimeter. “I do,” said Sam. “How long until he finishes?” “If that is a true Bael arch, we have maybe eight to ten minutes to properly open it,” Gadreel answered. “You should have brought your friends.” Sam shook his head as he went to the trunk. “No, they have their tasks. They don’t need to be put in danger like this.” The angel held up a silver blade – his sword – and said, “Thank you for the chance to fight with you, Sam Winchester.” Sam grabbed the last weapon he could hold and slammed the trunk closed. “We could all use a second chance now and then,” he said as he dumped all the guns and knives into the Impala’s front seat. He then climbed in behind the wheel and began checking the weapons’ ammo and cocking them as he arranged the arsenal on the seat beside him. “Ready for battle?” Gadreel asked once Sam had finished preparing his dozen weapons. “No,” Sam replied, surprising even himself. It wasn’t quite right. Leaning over, he opened the glovebox and a cigar box tumbled out into the floorboard. Sam chuckled. His mom and later himself had used that old thing to keep fake IDs in. He hadn’t used any of them for years since joining the FBI. Picking up the box, he was surprised to see that it hadn’t just held IDs, but a cassette tape and small photo had been in there too. Sam picked up the photo and turned it over. A young Mary Winchester smiled back at him, holding a newborn baby. Next to her was a beaming man that Sam realized must have been John, and he was holding for the camera a young boy only a couple of years old. “All this time, Mom, and you never showed me Dad or Dean,” muttered Sam to himself. Leaning forward, Sam stuck the picture into the dashboard and started the Impala’s engine. “You are ready now?” Gadreel asked again. Sam looked at the cassette that had fallen out of the box then slid it into the tape deck and hit play. ‘GOING DOWN, PARTY TIME – MY FRIENDS ARE GONNA BE THERE TOO’ belted the recorded singer. Sam smiled. “Let’s kick it in the ass,” he said as he cranked up the volume. Gadreel spread his shadowy wings and dove into the vicious melee as Sam put the car into gear and stomped on the gas.

*** “One thing I learned, is that worlds are bound together by the people and objects both have in common,” said Jack. The room trembled, only this wasn’t a normal earthquake, it was as if reality itself was shaking. “Two worlds – split with nothing in common? You can control where they intersect,” Jack said before snapping his fingers. On both sides of the Impala, the air itself split apart into two long golden strands. Chuck turned and was captivated by the sight. Through both doorways he saw the worlds stretching forth. Dozens upon thousands of unheard stories stretching forth from them. They were filled with characters he hadn’t written about in years and new ones filled with rich potential. So enthralled was Chuck, that he didn’t notice Dean emerging from the portal on his right, nor Sam on his left. The brothers, barreling forward, tackled Chuck. As he was knocked backwards, Jack grabbed his sword, and brought it up. Chuck Shurley looked down at the black, curved blade sticking out of his chest. “How very… thematic,” he said with a wry smile. “You should be proud. You taught him well,” he said to his favorite two brothers. Then Chuck closed his eyes and died. “Sam?” “Dean?” Both of them stood up and embraced each other even as everything around them began trembling. “Did we do it? Did we win?” asked Dean. “Jack! Are you ok?” asked Sam. “Doesn’t matter right now,” Jack answered as he snapped his fingers. Castiel appeared beside them. “I take it by the unraveling of reality that you were victorious, Jack?” The young man nodded. “So that’s it? Everything dies?” asked Sam. “Without a God to maintain everything…” said Castile shrugging. “Thank you, fathers, for everything,” said Jack as he knelt down beside Chuck’s body and pulled out the sword. Bright, pure white light spilled out from wound. “Whoa, Jack, what are you doing?” demanded Dean. “The family business. Saving people just like you taught me. I’m saving – everyone.” Jack placed his hand over the wound and the light from the body poured into him. From every pore it shone, until erupting from his mouth and eyes as the Nephilim absorbed everything he could. The light grew brighter and brighter until all three of them had to look away. The rumbling stopped. They opened their eyes to see that Chuck, Jack, and Death’s scythe were all gone. “We’re still alive,” said Dean. “Yes. Jack has assumed the role of god to keep the world spinning,” Castiel answered. “You would not believe what happened to me,” Sam and Dean said simultaneously. “So, where were you?” they again said in unison. “Apologies, that was… my idea,” said Cas. “Yours?” Sam asked. “I thought that if you were separated, it would make it harder for Chuck to find you. It was my hope it would distract him long enough for us to train. It was Jack’s idea to make the other worlds for the two of you to live in while we prepared.” “I need a drink,” said Dean. Sam and Castiel went back to the library, straightening up the bunker from the consequences of the battle as they went. Dean cleaned up the kitchen before retrieving three beers from the fridge and bringing them to the library to hand out. “Does anyone know a toast?” Sam asked as he twisted off the bottle cap. “Hold that thought,” said Dean. He stood up and pulled out a pocketknife. Leaning over the library table, Dean proceeded to carve the initials ‘J’ and ‘K’ next to his, Sam’s, and Mary’s initials. When he was finished, he stood up to admire his handiwork, saying, “He was a Winchester, through and through.” Dean flipped his knife around and held it out for Castiel. “So are you.” The angel gave a look of confusion. “Your initials, Cas. Add them to the table,” explained Dean. Taking the knife, Castiel leaned over and carved a ‘C’ close to the ‘JK’ along with a strange collection of squiggles and lines. “What’s that next to the C?” asked Sam. “That is the Enochian letter for my last name,” answered Castiel. Dean chuckled. “All this time, I never knew you had a last name.” “You never asked.” “So, a toast!” exclaimed Dean. He froze. “He’s not dead, right?” “He’s undoubtedly very busy,” said Cas. “I got it,” Sam said as he raised his bottle into the air. “Jack! If you can hear us… just, , our adoptive son.” Castiel smiled and lifted his bottle into the air as well. “We are proud of a job well done.” Dean lifted his bottle and said, “When we lay our weary heads to rest, we won’t cry no more.” The three of them clinked their bottles together and took a drink. “So what was your world like, Sammy?” Sam shrugged. “I worked for the FBI.” Dean almost spit up his beer. “Really?” “Really. Still hunted monsters, but I had my law degree. What about you?” Dean looked around the room. “Just took care of the bunker. With a wife. Couple of kids named John and Samantha.” “Really?” “Well… she did have your hair.”

*** THE SUPERNATURAL *** In a place beyond, Jack sat in a reclining seat, watching Sam, Dean, and Castiel talking and drinking. In the seat beside him, Chuck slurped loudly from an oversized cup before grabbing a handful of popcorn out of the gigantic tub on his lap and stuffing it in his mouth. To Jack’s left and beyond Chuck, more theater seats identical to the ones they sat in stretched to an infinity beyond where he could see. Jack turned his gaze back to the scene before him and watched Dean run off to get more beers while Sam and Castiel talked and laughed. The scene faded to black. Chuck put his cup in the drink holder and handed Jack the bucket of popcorn. Standing up, the author began applauding loudly, cheering, even sticking his fingers in his mouth to whistle loudly. Jack found the button and pushed it to move his chair into an upright position, feeling very confused. “Well done,” said Chuck. “Well done. Maybe a bit melodramatic in a few places, but you really nailed the important stuff. Here, you’ve earned these,” he said tossing something at Jack. The young man caught it. It was three interlocking key rings with seven gold and silver keys on them. From one keyring dangled a flat image of a planet with rings. On the second keyring was a flattened image of a tree. On the third keyring dangled the flattened image of a quill and ink bottle. “What are these?” “Why, the keys to your little multiverse,” said Chuck. “You’re in charge of it now. Though I wouldn’t worry, Amara belongs to that collection, so she’ll be around if you need help. Good luck being god.” “What?” Chuck pointed up and the scene they had just been watching appeared. It began rewinding until it reached the moment Jack had stabbed Chuck. “You beat me. You won.” The image moved forward to the moment of Jack absorbing Chuck’s power. “Like you said here, you get to be god now.” “But… you’re alive.” “That’s not what matters,” sighed Chuck as he flopped back down into his seat. “Don’t you get it, Jack?” The kid shook his head. “Your challenge. The trials! They were never about killing me. I was just playing the role of a villain to give it all… an epic finale! No hard feelings, ok?” “Then… what was it about?” “The stories! You proved your worth when you took my originals and built something new out of them.” “That was just to hide Sam and Dean from you.” Chuck laughed. “That doesn’t matter. You created! You didn’t destroy it all to try and stop me. You built up. Made new. “The stories, Jack, they never end. They’re never over. Not as long as you remember them and keep them going. However you want to tell them is up to you. You can take Sam and Dean to the ends of their lives, to the afterlife itself. Or you make them immortal forever. You can tell tales about their descendants in the future. Or tell of their ancestors in the past. Make spinoffs involving their friends. Make spinoffs with their enemies. Invent new friends for them like a surly Brit and an alien in a blue box. Put them in new settings. Make copies of the boys and keep going with both of those spinoffs you made. Whatever inspires you, Jack, what matters is that you create.” “Why?” Chuck stood up and spread his arms. “Because! This!” He spun around to emphasize the overwhelming void before them. “Because this is the alternative!” Jack stood, and for the first time began to take in the true scale of the infinity that surrounded them. “Take it all away – the universe, life, souls, and all the stories that grow from those things, Nothing is all you have. Emptiness. The vast abyss.” Chuck smiled and clasped Jack’s shoulder. “But if we all create, every one of us… If I inspire you and you inspire another who inspires another then another and another… “together, we can fill infinity.” “That’s what it’s all about?” asked Jack. “Were you expecting the hokey pokey?” Chuck replied as he began walking away. Jack raised his hand to wave goodbye. “Will I ever see you again?” “Not for a while,” he heard Chuck shout. “I have this new story idea about superheroes I’m anxious to try. All this, I leave to you. Get creative.” Jack looked down at the keys he had been given. It was a lot to take in. But he was eager for the challenge.

THE END

Dedicated To: Alice Jester, WFB admin Special Thanks: Eric Kirpke

For all the fans.