Ferro Comitante

There’s been a change of things--Dean’s now over here.

#I'VE MOVED OVER HERE

Wulfstan let out a laugh, something that apparently hadn’t changed over time. It was still warm, lips lifting in a smile and showing his pointed teeth.

“I’ve seen weirder. I’ve seen fae cursed to sneeze up fully buttered and toasted slices of bread, that was weird.”

There was a strange sense of trust, Wulfstan was comfortable around this man and he motioned towards the kitchen.

“Want a drink? I can’t do much else in this place…” He looked around the cavernous room, along the bookshelves. “And you look like you need a drink.”

At least his laugh was familiar. Even with a jostling beard, it was still Heracles.

“I can always use a drink.” Dean stood, motioning for Wulfstan to take the lead. “As painful as sneezing toast sounds, this is still... I don’t know man, just strange. And I’m used to some pretty weird shit.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck as he followed Wulfstan. “Like, I can understand you. But I’m not like, speaking your language, but I am speaking your language. What the fuck.”

Ugh. She would’ve preferred the laundry. Lore had never been her strong suit, and half of those frigging books weren’t even in English. Rachel wasn’t particularly good at foreign languages either. There was a reason she mostly just shot people.

“They’re not welcome here,” she said, and it would’ve sounded like sass except she was deadly serious. “This land belongs to old gods, and they don’t take kindly to strangers. In fact, you might wanna tone it down a bit.” She shot him a look that said she could feel the power he was emanating. “It’s Navajo land. Spider Woman runs the show here, and her security is top notch.

“I got a special pass, which given by the fact we’re not cinders right now, I guess is still in effect. Angels or not, Alpha teams still work for the Council, and there’s no way they’ll start beef with a sovereign entity. Besides,” she said, and her mouth curved into a sardonic smile, “they’ll need time to draw up my arrest warrant.”

Dean snorted. He’d seen what angels were capable of--sure, most of them respected the old gods roaming around Earth, but they made their alliance clear--they had one Father, and He had gifted His angels with more juice than all the gods combined. Lucifer had been a pretty damn good example of that. “I’ve seen what angels can do to gods. It ain’t pretty. Let’s just... hurry up to a house.”

In the midst of his anger, though, Dean felt a stab of pity. Rachel was giving up a lot--granted, with people who practically hated her existence--to help keep him safe. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he pressed a kiss into her temple. “You’re better off without those dicks.”

They kept walking towards--whoa, wait, backtrack-- “Wait, what? Spider Woman? Like...?” He held up his hand in Spiderman fashion, making a little sound as he fake-shot his webbing at invisible buildings.

I didn't MEAN to get you into a mess, I was trying to keep you out of one. Ever stop to think for a minute that the Council lied to me--hid what the Alpha teams were? You're pissed, I get it, and I'm not asking you not to be. But you're not the only one that was hung out to dry here. I'm just asking for us to be on the same team.

I’m not saying we’re not, Rache. I’m just--

I know you were scared, I know they lied to you. I get that. But I went against my gut instinct and I’m kinda pissed about that too. I hold on to things, and I’m gonna hold onto this for a bit longer too.

-pouts- I'm doing all the stup--good, useful reading. Which, by the way, I had to buy three dictionaries for. How else can I get you to forgive me?

Read faster.

Honest, Rache, I’m just gonna be pissed for a while. My ass gets in this danger all the time--I know how to handle it, sure, but that doesn’t mean I like to.

You’ve got a lot of learning to do. This isn’t just kids going darkside and having to deal with that shit--this is major league, city-wide destruction. We gotta out-nuke nukes.

Are you gonna hold that over my head for forever?

Do angels exist?

-dramatically lays on-

I still haven’t forgiven you for making me leave the bunker, only to be chased by angels.

So go lay dramatically on the sofa.

His lips parted as he saw the blackened eyes, his gut twisting in mild alarm before settling.

“Demon.” Wulfstan nodded, “That was part of the question, I suppose. I meant… I’m very close with a select few people from what Lydia tells me…. I have to ask,” He pointed at Dean, “How do you suddenly know my language?”

#[ what do you imagine old norse to be for speed dial ]#[ 'ah yes ur my second fastest carrier pigeon' ]#heraclesstvalentine

“Uh, not really sure?” Dean rubbed at his head. To him, everything still sounded like--like English? It made sense still, but his tongue wasn’t moving in the right way for the words he was saying, and he could tell Hera’s lips weren’t moving in the right way for what he was saying. It was like his life was suddenly a dubbed Norse foreign film.

Weird.

“We’re close--I mean, I like to think we’re close. You’re number two on my emergency contacts list--and also, coincidentally, number two on my speed-dial. Dude this is really fucking weird.”

She dropped her head. He had every right to be pissed as hell at her. If she’d just taken a moment to think–or, you know, to trust him and his instincts. Why hadn’t she just trusted him?

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” she said quietly, and she sounded so very small. “I was just so scared that they’d find you. That’s all I was thinking about, and I just…” There was no explanation that could make this right. She was totally in the wrong here and there was no saving it.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I’ll–I swear I will do your laundry for like, a year, or whatever you want, I’ll make it up. I’ll like, not sass you for a month. That’s how sorry I am.”

Dean’s jaw tightened and he heaved a sigh, but there wasn’t much comfort he could offer. Did he feel a little bad telling Rachel off for her poor decision making? Yeah--but he wasn’t going to apologize. If they’d stayed at the bunker, this wouldn’t be a problem. He should’ve argued more, should’ve made them stay--but instead, they were going to have a lovely time at an ex’s house that Dean was going to have to angel-proof on the fly.

“Look, I get it. And you didn’t know what they were, and your heart was in the right place. But if we get out of this alive, you’re not doing laundry or shit--you’re reading everything the bunker has on angels. Which is a solid three months worth of reading, at least.”

He passed a weary hand over his face, looking around them nervously. “I’m getting a bad feeling. No one’s coming yet but... this can’t be good. They’re never this quiet...”

Rachel blinked for a moment. That was… remarkably more chill than she’d expected. Which meant the situation with the Alpha team was worse than realized, which meant this was rapidly becoming the biggest SNAFU in a life filled with pretty impressive SNAFUs.

“Okay, okay.” She exhaled a breath and concentrated on that house, held it like a fixed point in her mind. The line twisted, gaining a different texture, although she wasn’t sure if Dean could tell–it was more of a feeling than something you could see. A little while later and something tugged behind her navel. That’s our stop.

She hesitantly took Dean’s hand and stepped to the side, her circle pushing against the rubbery edge of the line until they popped out into a quiet desert under a sky so black it was almost unreal.

“This way,” she said quietly, walking from memory toward a small pile of stones. “It’s gonna be about a mile. Closest I could get us.”

An awkward silence followed, and Rachel shoved her hands in her pockets. “So, um… how bad did I screw up?”

He’s not sure what exactly’s happening--Dean still wasn’t used to his demonic magic, wasn’t used to the Mark of Cain, and he still wasn’t sure of how to explain what he saw when he saw it. But something happened, and when they were alive later, he’d ask more questions and think about it. Right now, all his senses were on red alert.

Stepping out onto the desert, Dean’s magic immediately flared to suppress their presence--it’s not hidden, per se--but it is harder to find. they’d have to be close to find them and need to look harder to sense them--but in return, Dean would be able to sense them too.

“Royally. Rache, this is real bad.” He ran a hand through his hair as he walked beside her. “You ever read the bible? Like, not for religion, but just--you know the stories, right? Plagues of Egypt, Sodom and Gomorrah, that kind of shit? Angels did that. Like, actually did it. We’re speaking God’s warriors doing whatever they think’s right--regardless of if it’s actually right or not. These guys could easily kill us in seconds. The bunker though--that was warded against angels. Completely. Hell, even if one had managed to get in, there were tons of expulsion sigils around. We could’ve stayed there for years.”

“Oh! Good!” He pulled lightly at his beard, stroking it in thought, “I… have lots of friends… Good.”

His cheeks pinkened, then he looked apologetic, lips twisting ans nose scrunching, “I… not hvat - what - you expect… sorry.”

He still fidgeted the same, the wolf cloak was heavy on him, but it he felt naked without it… still… He pulled it off, draping it on the back of the chair, seeming much smaller now.

“Um… same… same friend as Paxton? How…” He made a noise of frustration, then waved it off, “Forget it. Not important.”

#heraclesstvalentine #[ lazy mun is lazy ]#[ just pretend it's old norse lol ]

“Yeah, Hera--sorry, Wulfstan, you got tons. Real friendly kinda guy. People like you a lot.” Dean rolled his shoulder in a shrug. Hera was one of the better people Dean knew, and one of the few people who had the luxury of friends and family.

“Don’t worry about it, big guy. You and I--we’ve seen each other worse off.” Or at least, Hera had seen him worse off. Dean was a little lacking in the support position, but he could make up for it now.

Same friend? Did he mean demon? At the thought, his eyes flicked black. Damn things--still couldn’t quite control them. But when he opened his mouth to reply, English wasn’t quite what came out. <<”I’m a demon--is that what you’re asking?”>>

“I mean… I felt the power.” She sounded both confused and a little ashamed, like she’d missed a question on a big important test. She nodded and exhaled a long breath. Safe. When she thought of safe, she thought of home, and that was exactly where she didn’t want to go. But she also thought of the desert, a small house full of brightly colored art, the smell of sage, and a kind smile.

“Okay, okay. I’ve got a place we can go, and then we can talk angel whatever, because frankly right now if I don’t concentrate we’re gonna end up on friggin’ Mars. But you cannot freak out, okay?” She hesitated, unsure of how he would react. “The place we’re going… I got some history there.”

Later he might regret being so harsh, but with angels on their tails, there wasn’t really time to be gentle or nice about it. They had to leave, had to go fast, before the dicks-with-wings caught up with them. Dean shook his head. “Dude, I don’t care if this is your ex-boyfriend or fiancee or what. So long as it’s safe, I couldn’t care less.”

And he really didn’t--it was more important right now to get out of their line of sight than it was to bicker about pasts. It wasn’t just his own safety, but that of Rachel as well--she was completely unprepared for an angelic encounter. “Just be quick about it and lead the way.”

“Keep hearing that. Hvat is… con?” He held his hands up, accent thick, “Norse. See? Wulfstan. Who… uh…” He motioned to Dean, tipping his head,”Who you?”

“Wulfstan. Right. I’ll... try to remember that.” He rubbed at the back of his head. “A con’s like--well it’s short for ‘convention.’ Means, uh... large gathering of people that all... really like something? They get really excited and they dress up as some of the things they like and nerd out.”

Slouching in the chair, Dean smiled a little. “I’m Dean--Dean Winchester. You’re a good friend of mine.” Minus the sex. Or plus the sex. Either way, that wasn’t getting brought up right now.

The man was sitting at the desk, looking somewhat dizzy after spinning in the chair far too much.

His hair and beard are long, his clothes cleaned and polished chainmail, leather armor, boots, and the wolf cloak with lovely clean fur.

“Ja?” He lifted his head, smiling in greeting, “I am Wulfstan… eh… Heracles. Can I help?”

Dean paused, blinking at the... viking?

“There some sort of con I don’t know about? Or is this just some sort of... yeah, I got nothing.”

Plopping into the seat opposite of Heracles, he squinted and stared at the other. No glasses. A lot more beard. Way, way longer hair. But underneath all that--and the armor--he could still see Hera’s soft, bright eyes.

heraclesstvalentine

Dean puffed out a breath as he exited the elevator, rubbing his jaw. The wards tickled against his senses, lightly brushing against overly sensitive skin, but let him by without fanfare.

He wandered down the aisles at his leisure until getting within earshot of Heracles’ desk. “Hera? Are you decent?”