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luckyspike · 5 years

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Adventures in America, Ch. 9 - Jackson County, Missouri

In which we learn about Rachael and Noel

Adam and Lucky bond over mutual interests that aren’t weather

And Aziraphale and Crowley share a soft moment at the edge of a corn field

Read the previous chapters here (not on AO3 yet!): ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch 6 | ch 7 | ch 8

or just check out my fanfiction tag

The next day brought a trip to the great state of Missouri, and more tornadoes. Bigger, this time, longer-lived. Adam and Lucky watched with great enthusiasm as the powerlines flashed when the tornado tore through them, and then with dread as they watched the biggest tornado of the day lift a barn entirely up off the ground and hurl it, in pieces, hundreds of yards to either side. When the danger had passed, Rachael drove the truck toward the property, the students taking in the destruction as they drove past the bits of barn on the way up the farm road. Noel and Rachael led the way to the farmhouse, where they knocked on the door and checked on the homeowner and were assured that it was just hay in the barn, thanks for checking but we’re fine, appreciate the stop.

“It should be a compulsory part of storm chasing,” Noel told the boys solemnly as they piled back into the truck. “Lots of chasers do it, and that’s great, but I’ve seen vans and trucks blow past a trashed building just to keep following the storm.” He shook his head. “No excuse for that, not really.”

There wasn’t as much lightning with that system, so Rachael didn’t bother throwing the probes out. After they checked on the farm house, they drove after the storm for a little while longer, but it fell apart near the capitol, and they called it a night. Noel was driving by then, and when the group decided a diner sounded just perfect for a quick bite before bed, he somehow managed to navigate to a greasy spoon on the side of the road that promised some of the best burgers in the midwest. Adam wasn’t typically a fan of burgers, but when faced with a claim like that, he felt it was fairly mandatory to at least give them a try.

They chatted idly about the storms of the day while the waited, Adam nursing a Pepsi and Lucky working on a black-and-white milkshake. “So what are we thinking about tomorrow?” Noel asked, over the rim of his coffee cup.

Rachael had the laptop out, and she didn’t look particularly happy. “Not … not looking good. Not for the next few days, as much as I can estimate.” She sighed. “I can look again in the morning, for sure, but if there’s anything, it’s going to be little, and it’ll be all the way up in South Dakota, probably.”

Noel winced. “Worth the drive?”

“Well … I mean, I’ll check tomorrow, but if you want my money on it … no. Sorry. There’s a few little system set-ups in the works, but nothing I can forsee producing anything worthwhile. Probably a bust day.”

Lucky and Adam exchanged a look. “So what do we do on bust days?” Adam asked, over the slurping of the milkshake. Although this was supposed to be an educational trip, he was sort of desperately hoping the answer wasn’t going to be studying. Certainly, if he was in America, there would be something to do besides sit around and study.

“Well, Noel has some textbooks in the truck that you two can share, and -” Rachael caught their expressions and stopped to laugh. “Nah, just kidding. I mean, you can if you want to, but doesn’t sound very fun, does it?” They shook their heads slowly. “Noel and I have a lot of photos and video to edit, so we’re gonna be pretty tied up with that most of the day, but since we won’t be traveling anywhere, might make sense for us to head back to Kansas City tonight and stay there, and you guys can explore around tomorrow if you want. There’s museums and stuff there, and it’s not even a two-hour drive, so not too bad to head to tonight.”

Lucky nodded. “Kansas City’s good with me. I’ve never been there.”

“I have once,” Adam said, as the waitress set his food down in front of him. Regardless of the quality of the burger, it was certainly one of the biggest burgers he’d ever seen. Next to him, Lucky made a confused noise that reminded him, a little, of Crowley, and made something that felt a little like homesickness twist in his gut, although that might have just been hunger at the sight of the burger and fries. “Nah, just kidding.” He picked up a fry and smirked at the other boy. “I’m game though.”

“I was so confused for a minute.” The waitress set down Lucky’s meal: an enormous plate of fried chicken. “Oh man, oh yes.”

“You really gonna eat all that?”

“Or die trying.”

Noel sighed wistfully. “I wish I could still eat like that without needing a handful of antacids afterwards.” He’d ordered a BLT for himself, and Rachael had chosen a tuna melt.

“You can have a piece if you want?” Lucky pushed the drumstick close to Noel, who shook his head. “Sure?”

“Enjoy it for me. Much as I’d like it, I’d prefer to sleep tonight.”

They ate in silence for a while. Adam considered his burger. It was certainly good, but was it one of the best? He chewed each bite thoughtfully, and tried to balance the juiciness of the meat with the sharpness of the cheese and the varied tastes - sweet, acid, umami - of the condiments. About a quarter of the way through, he settled on the conclusion that it maybe wasn’t the best he’d ever had, but it certainly was in the top five. He set it down to take a photo of it for the group, which he would include with the tornado pictures when he sent them later.

“You guys still have to show me your pictures,” Rachael said, the sight of Adam’s phone jogging her memory. “Lucky, you took a million yesterday and today - I heard your camera. Any favorites?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed his mouthful of chicken. “I’ll show you when I’m not greasy.”

“Deal.” She cocked her head, a loose lock of dark hair falling across her nose. She blew it out of the way. “How about you, Adam?”

He thought about all the photos and videos he’d taken, and considered. “I think some are pretty good,” he concluded. “My friends back home loved some of the ones from yesterday, but I think that was more because of the tornado and not as much the quality of the photography. I’ll show you when I’m done.”

“That’s fair.” She nudged Noel. “I know you have some great pictures, I heard your camera going off all day like it was going out of style.”

Noel replied, and Adam ate quietly as they bantered back and forth. He grinned a little too, around bites of burger, because for two research partners, Noel and Rachael were really very funny together. He wondered if they were more than research partners, but neither had ever said, and while he wouldn’t have thought twice about asking when he was eleven, at eighteen he liked to think he had picked up enough social graces through the years to know better than to come out with a question like that*. Besides, neither wore a ring, and neither had made any kind of overt romantic gesture toward the other, which led Adam to believe that if they were more than research partners, they probably didn’t like to discuss it with customers.

[*And if anything, Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship had taught him that an obvious friendship and incredible chemistry didn’t always infer a relationship that any involved parties would be willing to talk about for any length of time without blushing, or turning into a gigantic serpent and escaping through a window. Although Adam also knew the latter was significantly less likely within the general population.]

“So where are you guys from?” Lucky asked, and Adam startled out of his reverie. “I mean, I read your bios online, but like - Noel, you’re from around this part of the country, aren’t you?”

“Not quite - I’m from Montana.” Noel’s expression changed when he mentioned that state, settled into something calm and peaceful. “Big Sky country. Not too many tornadoes up that way, though, but the winter storms can be something up in the mountains. That’s home base for me, when it’s not chasing season.”

“So you like snow and stuff?”

“Oh, yeah! Cross-country skiing, trapping, fishing.” He laughed. “Growing up out there, just me and my mom, it was a little wild. She’s kind of a frontier-woman type, so we grew or hunted a lot of our own food.” He shrugged. “Not that I don’t love it, obviously, nothing better than being out in nature if you ask me, but I do like being able to run to the store when I’m out of peanut butter. College domesticated me, I guess.”

“Education’ll do that,” Rachael agreed, laughing. “One minute you’re Grizzly Adams, the next you’re eating Top Ramen and yelling at the weather channel in an air-conditioned dorm because it’s kind of hot outside.”

Noel acted affronted at that. “My dorm didn’t have air conditioning, excuse you.”

“Oh, so sorry, my mistake.” Lucky and Adam were laughing, which Adam rather suspected was the intended outcome of the little show the two scientists were putting on. “Was it actually a constructed building or did you fashion your own dorm out of hewn logs?”

Noel shook his head. “They wouldn’t let me build a log cabin on campus, can you believe?” He nodded her way. “Anyway, that’s me, what about you? Where you from? The public wants to know.”

“Florida.” Rachael sighed. “Sorry to say, I am Florida Woman.” Lucky and Adam laughed again. “Fighting alligators, selling fake Superbowl tickets, finding manatees in the swimming pool … Yes, all my doing.”

Lucky looked somewhat worried, and Adam paused. “Wait, really?”

“No.” She scoffed. “Well, okay, one time a manatee did get into our pool, but that was one time. During a hurricane.” She waved a hand. “Storm surge, you know how it is. Anyway, I did not grow up on the wild plains of America - I grew up like a normal American kid in a kind-of-nice trailer park on the Gulf coast, and was already completely civilized by the time I arrived at college.”

Adam nodded. “Did you guys meet in college, or … ?” he trailed off, letting the question hang. Rachael’s mouth dropped open.

“Adam, how old do you think I am?”

Adam winced. “Sorry, I just -” but she was laughing anyway, and he relaxed and broke into a grin. “Sorry.”

“Kidding, kidding. No, we didn’t meet in college. Well,” she amended, “I was in college. He was working for OSU at the time, I think?” Noel nodded in confirmation. “Anyway, I was working with OSU’s lightning research team and he was helping with the mesonet, so that’s where we met. Then a few years later, when I was looking to do more lightning research for my PhD, he had started storm chasing, and he actually hired me on.” She shrugged. “Free research opportunities for me, and another driver for him.”

“Plus I can pay her in Dunkin coffee, which is a lot less than what the other candidates I interviewed wanted,” he joked. She made a face at him. “Alright, and money, yes. Even benefits, eventually.”

Rachael pushed her plate away, the tuna melt long gone and the fries all but eaten. She rested her face in her hands. “Yeah, that was a bigger adventure than storm chasing was that year, I think. God, getting him to do literally any amount of official paperwork is actually painful.”

“Which is why I gave her a raise and expanded her duties to include the business operations.” He snorted. “Worked out great for me - I just keep the truck and the equipment running, and don’t get us killed, she finds the storms and does taxes.”

Lucky frowned then, and Adam could almost hear what the other boy was thinking. He watched Lucky chew a french fry thoughtfully, swallow, and then open his mouth. Rachael, grinning like a shark, headed him off before he could get a word out. “If you’re about to ask if we are anything more than business partners, the answer is no. Everyone thinks so, though.” She sighed. “Alas, I’m married to a lovely woman who holds down the fort in Florida, and Noel here is married to Montana, I think.”

“Yeah, okay.” He shrugged. “Fair enough.”

“And you both just really like weather?” Adam asked, also choosing to push his plate away, although the handful of fries left were practically calling to him. “S’how you got into storm chasing?”

“I mean, I grew up in lightning country, so I guess it just carried on from there. I always liked it, wanted to know how it worked.” Rachael shrugged. “You?”

“I like road trips and tornadoes,” Noel answered, simply. “I went to college with a plan to get a business degree or something, but I actually went chasing for the first time after my freshman year, kind of fell into it, and switched my major to geology after that.”

Adam sat back. “Wicked.”

The waitress came back with the bill, and they all threw down a little cash, before wandering back out to the truck. Behind the storm, the sky was clear and dark, a few stars winking over the light pollution. Noel looked up as they crossed the parking lot and sighed. “You know that’s the thing about Montana. It really does have a sky you don’t get anywhere else. Figuratively speaking.”

“My Dad took me out to Colorado once,” Lucky said, conversationally. “We were out at some base in the middle of nowhere. The stars were insane - you could see the milky way and everything. Back home, there’s so much light pollution you’re lucky if you see enough stars to count on two hands.” He sighed, wistful. “Sometimes I think I might move out this way after school. I’m sick of DC, anyway.”

“Can’t imagine it’s a quiet place to live,” Rachael said sympathetically. “And if you’re looking to study meteorology it’s nice to have it closer to your backyard, so to speak. ‘Course, if you stay in Washington, maybe you could lobby against climate change.” Lucky made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, and stuck out his tongue. “Or not. Just a thought.”

“No way. I’m over it. The whole DC rat-race.” He waved his arms, and then hauled the door to the back seat of the truck open. “Forget it.” Once in the truck, he looked across the back seat to Adam, who was fiddling with his seatbelt in the dark. “What about you, Adam? You think you wanna stay in England?”

“Oh, yeah,” Adam replied, without ever even having to think about it. He had, after all, made up his mind about that ages ago. “I like to travel and everything, though, so it’d be cool to find some job where you get to travel a bit. But yeah, Tadfield’ll always be home for sure.”

“That’s cool.” He rubbed his hands on his thighs, wiping the last remnants of chicken grease off on his shorts. “Is it a big place?”

Adam shook his head. “Oh, no. Few hundred people at the outside. But it’s close to Oxford, and not all that far from London, so it’s kind of the best of both worlds, I guess.” He looked out of the window, and tried to ignore the feeling of homesickness then - definitely not hunger anymore, no way it could be after that burger.

There was quiet for a minute, and then, gently, Rachael said, “Have you ever been away from home this long before?”

“No,” he answered, automatically, and then he flinched, glad for the darkness and the fact that his face was turned away from Lucky. He wasn’t ashamed that he hadn’t traveled for six weeks before, not at all, but he didn’t want the other guy to think he was some homesick little kid. “No,” he decided, going on as if he was bored with the subject, “but I’ve gone away for a couple weeks before, on holiday.”

“Six weeks is a long time,” Rachael answered, tone neutral. “I guess if we’re not going to be chasing tomorrow you’ll have time to call England at a reasonable hour, though, so there’s something, right?” She cracked the laptop open and smiled in the soft glow of the screen. “Silver lining in every cloud, right?”

“You see clouds?” Lucky leaned around the seat a little to get a better look.

“Not a one.”

When they arrived in Kansas City, the sun had long-since set, and the lights of the city illuminated the sky with a soft glow. They found a hotel on the outskirts of the city, cheap and clean, and parted ways to crash for the evening. Adam was looking forward to a quick shower and the soft embrace of a hotel mattress, but as he started to unpack for the night it appeared Lucky had other plans.

“So what do you think we should do tomorrow?”

“Huh? Oh. I dunno. What do you want to do?”

Lucky thought it over. “Dunno. We could just wander around the city, I guess. Oh, there’s an amusement park. You like rollercoasters?”

“They’re cool.” Adam shrugged. “Any museums or anything? Or like, barbecue?”

“Oh, a barbecue tour. Might be cool.” He tapped at his phone for a while, and scratched his beard thoughtfully. “What about this haunted building walking tour?”

“Oh yeah? Sounds awesome, actually. I’d be up for it.”

Lucky put his head to the side. “Yeah, I guess the Mormons were big around here for awhile? Oh, man, if we had a car we could take a day trip to the Garden of Eden, apparently.”

That drew a laugh out of Adam. “The Garden of Eden?” he asked, incredulous. “In driving distance? What is it, like a religious amusement park or something?”

“No, no, some people believe that the Garden of Eden was here in Missouri.” He giggled. “I always heard Eden was in the middle east or whatever. Like Mesopotamia area. Guess it could have been in Missouri though. Why not? No one really knows.”

Adam laughed. “I dunno, maybe someone does.”

“What, you know some immortals?” Lucky grinned. “Or what, wizards? Is Hogwarts real? I mean, I did move away when I was eleven, I could have missed my Hogwarts letter.”

“Never been to Hogwarts, nah. But you never know.” He shrugged. “All kinds of scholars figure it’s in the middle east. Maybe one of ‘em has an inside line, you know?”

“To who? God?”

Adam smirked. “You never know. Anyway, I’m gonna grab a shower. I’m in for the ghost tour thing tomorrow, though - sounds awesome.”

“You think they’re real?” The question stopped Adam halfway to the bathroom. “Ghosts, that is.”

Adam considered it. He could be honest**, of course, but then would Lucky think he was weird? But then the other boy had been the one to bring up the ghosts up in the first place. He chewed it over for a second, and then shrugged again. “Yeah.”

[** Not completely honest. There were things that he would always leave out. Being the actual Antichrist, for one.]

“Same.” He frowned. “I mean, I’ve never seen one, but there’s so many people that believe they exist, and that they’ve seen them, there has to be something to it, right?”

“Well …” Adam chewed his lip, and then, after a second, smiled. “Alright, maybe, yeah, but to play devil’s advocate for a minute, what if it’s not ghosts at all, but a totally natural phenomenon? Infrasound, or something?”

Lucky cocked his head. “Huh? What’s that?”

Adam looked to the shower, and then tossed his pajamas into the bathroom, haphazard on the tile floor, before he turned back around and headed to sit on his bed, legs crossed and leaned back, across from Lucky. He raised an eyebrow. “Infrasound. Supposedly can make people see and hear and thing all kinds of stuff. Hallucinations and everything.”

“I’ve never heard of it.” Lucky tossed his phone aside and fixed Adam with his full attention. “It can make people see ghosts?”

Adam grinned, wide and wicked. “You ever heard of the incident at Dyatlov Pass?”

“No. Is it weird?” Adam nodded. “Cool?” Another nod. “Mysterious?” A very affirmative nod. “Dude, tell me everything.”

Adam did. The pajamas sat, forgotten, on the bathroom floor, until the early hours of the morning, while the boys chattered on.

“Independence, Missouri.” The 4-Runner’s brakes didn’t dare squeak as it pulled to a stop. The engine hushed and shut off, and Crowley and Aziraphale sat for a long minute, staring out of the dark windshield to a field lit only by the car’s headlights. They didn’t need them, so Crowley shut them off too. “City of Zion,” Aziraphale observed, dryly. “Site of the Garden of Eden, they say.”

“I don’t remember all the corn,” Crowley said. Aziraphale didn’t respond, instead opening his door and stepping out of the car, into the humid night air. Above, the stars that managed to shine in spite of the light pollution glimmered weakly through the gaps in the clouds.

Aziraphale surveyed the field below them, and when he spoke again, it was in a language so long-dead that Crowley had to scramble to figure out what he was saying, at first. But it surprised him, eventually, how easily it came back, how it rolled off his tongue when he replied, like it had never died, never been shattered to the four corners when the Tower fell.

“It’s funny, how they think, don’t you think?” The angel chuckled a little. “Wonder what our lives would have been like if it had really been here, don’t you?”

Crowley was silent for a second, and then Aziraphale looked over, surprised, as a skinny elbow dug into his ribs. “Maybe I’d have been a corn snake.”

“Crowley,” he admonished, while the demon burst out into laughter. “You’re speaking a dead language that’s not been heard in thousands of years, and you make a pun? Have some respect.”

“I never will.” He ran his hands through his hair, still snickering. “If the Garden was actually in Missouri …” He sighed. “Well, for one, we’d have different accents.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” He left the demon to his own devices for a minute, giggling and making terrible puns in a tongue long-forgotten, and instead looked over the cornfield, flat and stretched out across the plains. On the other side, he could just hear the sound of running water.

“Oy, angel.” Startled, Azirpahale looked to Crowley, wide-eyed. The other was watching him, and because his sunglasses were perched on his head, sending Crowley’s mess of red hair in all sorts of directions, Aziraphale could see his eyes properly. He looked amused, most of all, but somewhere in there he was watching Aziraphale carefully. Thoughtful. “What’re you thinking about?”

“The Garden. The real Garden.” He looked around, the creatures of the night crying and squeaking and chirping all around. “Do you think, Crowley, that if it had been here - really, in real life - things would have gone the same?”

Crowley puffed out a breath, thoughtful. “Deep, angel. S’a big question. You’re giving everything a whole new beginning, for a start. It’s all so big, an’ ineffable, hard to know, isn’t it?”

“The ineffable plan might have stayed the same.”

Crowley shifted uncomfortably. “It … would be different though, wouldn’t it? It’d have to be. The Garden is in a whole different place.”

“Not necessarily. What happened in the Garden probably didn’t happen just because the Garden was where it was. It happened because of the plan -”

“Oh, sod the plan,” Crowley said with a disgusted noise. “It happened because Eve wanted to know what else was out there, and Adam agreed with her. And She made it easy for them to find out, in a way.” He pointed upwards, to where the moon was trying to peek through the wispy layer of clouds left behind from the day’s storms. “Could have always put it up there.” He snorted. “She never had a plan, she just set the pieces out and let them fall where they did.”

Aziraphale scowled in the way he always did when his disagreed, and disapproved, but he didn’t say anything about it. It was an argument they had had time and time again - Aziraphale arguing that the plan is ineffable and therefore extant but not anything either he or Crowley would ever be able to understand, and Crowley arguing that there was no plan to begin with, and She was ad-libbing and rolling with the hits as they came - and he didn’t feel like having it tonight. Instead, he re-set his expression to a more neutral, thoughtful one, and slid his hand into Crowley’s. The demon, wordlessly, squeezed it. “What about us?”

Crowley looked surprised. “What about us?” He shifted nervously onto his heels, and then laced his fingers through Aziraphale’s, the better to keep his balance.

“Would we have turned out the same, do you think?”

“I …” Crowley trailed off. He thought. Aziraphale let him, and stood beside him in companionable silence, trying to corral his own ideas about that question into something he might be able to elucidate. “Depends,” Crowley decided, eventually. “I’d have still done the bit at the start of it all, but after that …” He fixed Azirpahale with a curious expression. “Would you have still given away your sword?”

It was a question Aziraphale hadn’t expected, only because the answer to it was so obvious. He blinked. “Of course.”

The demon nodded, satisfied. “Then angel, I would have followed you to the ends of the Earth to find out what you were going to do next, no matter where we started.” He squeezed Aziraphale’s hand. “So we’d probably have ended up just the same.”

The thought of it made the angel smile, and he stepped closer to Crowley, standing close enough that their shoulders bumped and settled together, close and familiar and soft in spite of Crowley’s bony joints. “With different accents.”

“Well, yeah. With different accents. Naturally.”

Now with Chapter 10!

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #adam young #warlock dowling #crowley #aziraphale #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much #the one where they go to america

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stusbunker · 5 years

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Known: Crowley and the Queen

A Supernatural Dark Fan-fiction

Featuring: Dean Winchester x Female OC, Dean x Demon!Reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: Flashbacks ahead, note the dates! I try not to repeat information you already know, but please ask if something doesn’t make sense! xoxo Stu

Warnings: Demons, pain, blood, show level violence, angst, arson, possession, Trails!Sam, Slow Burn. Each Chapter will have its own warnings, because I am generous like that.

Earth Date: May 1, 2013

Location: US Hwy 56 just South of Dodge City

The scene at the diner was something Chloe couldn’t drive away from fast enough. The bodies littered among the debris as if there was an explosion, all slumped on the floor, thrown from their booths or stools. There had been no bomb, no gas leak, no grease fire. It was arson and it was covering something much darker than her seasoned hunter’s eyes could see. Unable to find all the pieces to put the puzzle together, instead it crumbled apart with each connection. There had been sulfur and before the security tapes were fried, a man grabbed a waitress’s face and her eyes melted with his touch.

The Fire Marshal was certain it had been tampered with, that it was a trick of reflection and camera flares. CC allowed the bewildered investigators to have their elaborate hoax of technological malfunction, because if they knew that Angels had massacred a restaurant full of people, they would be no better off. And those people wouldn’t be any less dead. There were only two hunters that she knew ran with an Angel, though she hadn’t heard much about him since Dean had gotten out of Purgatory. Calling a friend with news like this usually required liquid courage, plus the bullshit detector of face-to-face conversation would do to ease her growing concerns. That was why she was driving East; she was going to see what the Winchesters knew about what could bring both Angels and Demons to another godforsaken Biggersons’.

At least that was the motivation she had accepted from your silent nudging.

No one was home, the obviousness hitting you like a ton of bricks, made from disappointment and uncertainty. You were so close to seeing Dean again and then it was like you were trapped in a dream. What were you going to do with her now? Since she first expelled you, you strained to stay quiet, while watching and waiting. Only every so often you would send her a message or prompt her to act. The pull to drive East, the quick jump to the Winchesters when Angels were involved in the destruction; all just teensy suggestions on your part. You didn’t want to scare her, and you certainly did not want to draw attention to her from her fellow hunters. Possession was like torture: you just had to keep at it until you found all the chinks in the armor. Along that vein, you let Chloe work herself out of the predicament as you quietly continued to establish yourself in the back of her mind.

Chloe tapped at the sealed door with the steel toe of her work boot in mild annoyance. She knew hunters and those with a home base generally were gone only as long as they had to be. She could lurk in town, wait out the infamous black Chevy or she could try to get a straight answer from them over the phone. They were all liars at the end of the day, and though she had been through enough with Sam and Dean to trust them both with her back on a case, she doubted they would sell out their Angel buddy, if he was even involved.

In a stubborn fit, she stomped back to the cab of her pick up and made herself as comfortable as possible. Her dreams were broken memories and loops of unsuccessful hunts. She secretly kept score of her kills, assists and rescues. Some people had titles and some people saved diligently for the future. Chloe Collins viewed success on the backs of dead monsters, souls put to rest and exorcised demons. She may not be as famous as those boys of John’s or as resourceful as Bobby Singer had been, but she was a damn professional. You got a sour taste in your mouth when you realized how she would handle it once she found you out. You stopped yourself from spiraling in empathy, the taciturn emotion had you dulled as day broke.

Just after sunrise a jolting bang on the old rusted hood woke Chloe with a start. Knife raised like a slasher movie villain, she waved Dean off as he perched against his forearms on the cold metal window frame.

“What brings you around these parts?” He lifted his scarred chin to speak through the crack in the window.

“Don’t you ever sleep? Give a girl some beauty rest before you start grilling her, Winchester.” Chloe yawned into her wrist, if looks could kill Dean would have needed another resurrection.

Dean. It was really him, just beyond the slab of metal and plate of glass. He watched her amused with a glint in his green eyes. They were so bright, something about natural light and the surrounding foliage hit you unexpectedly. For all the beauty of the Earth, an old melody chimed in your thoughts as you saw him, your final torture, for the first time in true flesh and blood.

“Come on, Cease, you’re camped outside my front door, you’ll give a guy a complex if you don’t fess up.”

“God forbid, but this isn’t about you and your precious ego, Dean.” She huffed, scooting down the bench seat and out of the driver’s side door. Dean chivalrously held it open as she stretched, he tried not to notice as her shirts rode up to show a sliver of her thick waist. “So, that kid you’re looking for? Who else is on his trail because a whole Biggersons got roasted and I’d bet my granddaddy’s blade that it was Angels.”

Dean squinted at her now, “You were in Sante Fe? Yesterday?”

“Not a bad drive this time of year.” She noticed how he hadn’t invited her in and how he seemed to be blocking her from the door, intentionally or not it was a tell. You hated to admit it, but she was right to question his actions.

Dean nodded, still wary. “Well, sorry to disappoint, but that wasn’t us. Sammy and I just got back from the Two Rivers Casino, North end of Colorado.” He was giving her his best schmooze face, and CC was not enough of a morning person to play nice. “And thanks for keeping an eye out, but don’t worry about Kevin, we got him back.”

CC watched him carefully, “Oh, sure, I’m going to buy you were off on a boys’ gambling weekend with your lost prophet when we got Angels killing some two-dozen people?” She kept her tone level or tried to. Dean didn’t flinch, but he lowered his voice.

“Look, CC, I’m up to my eyeballs in otherworldly crap. Once Sammy figures out his next hurtle, thanks to Kevin he’s got somewhere to start, I’ll worry about Angels. Right now: I’m at my limit worrying about slamming the doors of Hell.”

Your heart raced, or Chloe’s raced for you. It felt like a silent jab at your presence. You didn’t know where to nudge her next. Luckily for you, her instincts were good, allowing you to sit back, and try to keep up with their dynamic.

“How’s Tweedle Dumb handling it?” She asked, the shift in conversation loosened his mask and you saw him, the real him. Vulnerable and battled-hardened, it had only been a few Earth years, had he really lived so much?

“You ever gonna stop with the nicknames? He was just a kid,” Dean’s face cracked into a reminiscent smile.

“Shit, what did that make us then?! Nah, it’s good to remind you boys where you stand,” Chloe teased back, resting her shoulder against the bed of her truck. They both felt the impasse, a few lingering glances shared between them before she decided to be the one to move it along. “Who’d’ve figured things would have gotten to such a scale back then?”

Dean huffed, an almost chuckle as he nodded. “You miss the old days?”

“Yeah, maybe, sometimes. I mean, there’s people we lost, and they should be remembered. But I guess, there wasn’t much else to miss?” She scrunched her face in a playful grimace. “If I get hung up on what ifs, then I’d just be working myself into a corner.” Chloe yawned again, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders. “Look, I’ma head out, y’all are busy and I need something to kill after yesterday.”

You saw it then, the nervous energy that had been holding Dean together, lighten ever so slightly along his shoulders and jaw. He didn’t want her hanging around, despite the momentary waxing nostalgic. You hoped you could search through her memories later and find just how those nicknames started. They had a past, nothing as absurd or tragic as yours and Dean’s, but something that needed to be understood all the same. If you were to stick around, if she was as receptive as you needed her to be.

CC tipped her head, her messy bun lolling off the top of her head, giving Dean a squint, which led to a wink. “Well, if you need some Wings bent or some back up, you know my number.”

“That I do. Thanks for checking in,” Dean held out one of his arms for a quick one-armed hug. She was on the taller side, chin resting on his shoulder with minimal tip toes, the closeness of their bodies was dizzying. You hadn’t experienced physical affection in decades. Dean smelled like old leather with a perplexing layer of musty books over a rich, if faded spiced cologne. And before you could truly appreciate it, the hug ended. Chloe opened the ornery door of her battered truck to climb into her next endeavor.

“Nice ride, how long have you had her?” Dean asked, admiring the old bruiser of a truck.

Chloe rolled her eyes, “A few months. Beats the alternative.”

“That it does. Take care.” Dean patted the door and CC replied with a genuine smile. She turned in a wide arch, headed back on to the service road that led away from the Bunker and into Lebanon. Every part of you wanted her to turn around, to hug him again, to throw herself at his feet. Anything but this parting akin to a limb being severed, something that you had experienced enough to pinpoint with absolute certainty the relative emotional to physical trauma. He could have said no, could have sent her packing, but he also could have said yes.

But there was no justification for any of those daydreams. The Winchesters and the prophet, Kevin Tran, were working to lockdown Hell. Crowley had lost his shiny bargaining chip turned fount of information. Any demon with an ounce of loyalty would return immediately to their post and seek an audience with the King. Unfortunately, the only being you held dearer than demonkind was slowly disappearing behind Chloe’s battered fender. What the fuck did that make you?

Dean was going to kill Cas. Then Naomi and Cas again for good measure. If Chloe had pieced together what happened in Sante Fe, then other hunters would too. He didn’t know if they could link the carnage back to Castiel specifically, but his involvement was damning enough. Why was he so hard to steer true? Dean didn’t know if he was more angry or disappointed. It smarted when Cas left him and took the Angel Tablet along. After that betrayal and now another thirty dead people; Dean didn’t know what to do with the Angel anymore.

He loved the guy, but could he trust him again?

Earth Date: December 4, 1929

Location: Hell, Accounting and Acquisitions Department

He felt her eyes on him as she sauntered through the row of desks, pencil pushers along one edge and fast-talking used car salesman along the opposite. She was unimpressed with his promotion, second in command of the department. Abaddon was an ancient demon part of a regime that had seen its time come and go and was impossibly able to cling to power. While Crowley was a new upstart, barely a demon two centuries. He thought she was an entitled, outdated snob, she found him a trashy bamboozler. It was hatred at first sight.

He had brought in half a year’s worth of deals in a month, the human world falling into financial crisis had the more pragmatic people turning to the Crossroads instead of taking a walk out of their office building windows. With unrest across Europe after the Great War, her side of the coin remained just as dazzling. Hell was fully invested in the 20th Century, it was just a matter of what kind of power men craved, political or financial. Abaddon liked to watch humanity squirm, while Crowley stole their souls and their wives’ knickers and they thanked him for it.

She left the office floor without a word to the young salesman or his superior. He wouldn’t see her again until sometime later after he had cleaned up quite nicely.

Earth Date: May 6, 2013

Location: One of Crowley’s Mansions, Somewhere along the East Coast, USA

Crowley sat at his desk with the seventh book in the Supernatural series, finding that he hadn’t moved since picking up the fifth novelization of the thorns-in-his-side’s conquests. He detested that he was so easily lost in the stories, the voices ringing out in immature familiarity as Dean and Sam searched for their wayward father. If Crowley wasn’t at risk of being put out of business by the dynamic duo, he might have been routing for them. Past them, at least. Now he was just casually making a kill order with the names of the Winchesters’ tiny victories neatly in line for the slaughter.

Because if anything could get those flannel clad codependents in line it was an existential crisis over a cleared or potentially negatively balanced moral scale. Damsels in distress, were just a means to an end in this carefully crafted scenario. Always two steps ahead with innumerable pokers in the fire, Crowley relished his new game. But it wasn’t a game it was hostage negotiation, a potential all-out war on the Winchesters if they followed through. That was a rather unlikely if.

Earth Date: May 14, 2013

Location: Hell, Welcome and Reception Platform

Abaddon was expecting a search and seizure, she got a genial smirk and a wave through by the guard. It had been only fifty-five years and somehow everything had changed. The meatsuit drew more attention than her presence and she quickly grew more disgusted the further she stepped into the executive level of Hell. Crowley, unsurprisingly, was not in his office or on his thrown. He seemed to keep a varying schedule between Earth-side operations and below ground bureaucracy.

“Color me not surprised,” she retorted to his secretary. “Playing with Hunters like they were his toy soldiers.”

It was time to redecorate and redistribute their focus. It was time for Hell to be Evil again.

Earth Date: May 15, 2013

Location: Ashland, OH

Chloe yawned into the back of her wrist, the streetlights glaring against the quiet street as she hurried back to her truck. The vamps’ nest had been cleared out in a hurry, one or more of them had gotten her scent and either skipped town or were stalking her this very second. She made a beeline for the rear of the vehicle, making a cursory perimeter before yanking the creaky door open. Nothing lurking behind her tires or in the bed, as she pulled herself into the driver’s seat a shooting star burst through the sky.

Chloe closed her eyes and made a wish, something both whimsical and pathetic: ‘Please don’t let this be my last wish, may I have the time to make it to better things.’ The truck bed shifted with a sudden, if graceful, distribution of weight. An unnerving chill ran up the length of Chloe’s spine as she started the engine. She adjusted the mirror, purposely giving the vampire a flash of her steely eyes. She gunned it, letting the tires scream against the county road, the creature’s strength protecting it from the kickback as she slammed on her brakes.

You snarled against the predator’s confidence, it bared its teeth in the moonlight, seen through the angled reflection via Chloe’s eyes. She slammed the shifting arm on the steering column, flying into reverse Chloe whipped the truck into a Y turn, throwing the vampire’s center of gravity off before flying back toward its nest. One more reckless shift and grinding of brakes and the vampire flew out of the bed. Chloe’s smugness was well earned, she reversed for the coup de gras, smearing the vampire against the crumbling pavement. As she took up her machete once more, severing what was left of the monster from its remaining skull, its dark blood streaked across her boots and hubcap. A shimmering in the gruesome liquid caught her eye and she looked up to a harrowing sky. Thousands of shooting stars were crashing to Earth as an ominous pit opened in your collective stomach.

She had gotten her wish, it wouldn’t be her last, and you knew that taking it as a positive was not necessarily a rational way to spin this outcome.

Location: South Western New York

Dean barreled down the backroads with Sam in the backseat, the falling Angels an afterthought as he pushed Baby to her limit. Sam. Please, God no, not now, not like this. ‘Damnit why did you leave him alone with Crowley for so long Dean?!’ His father’s voice still echoed through his thoughts, when he messed up. When he put Sammy in danger, John always resurfaced. Dean inhaled a forced breath and blinked, letting his foot up lightly as they flew over an abandoned railroad crossing.

The tighter he held on to the steering wheel, the quieter Sam became.

Sam?

“Sammy?!”

tags: @dontshootmespence @mrswhozeewhatsis @smi727 @sassykayla255 @dxr-supernatural-fanfic @supernaturalboi @dumbthotticus @eve05glee @veroinnumera @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @forgettingthoughts @shokushuhime-stuff @fanfictionrecommendations-com @soullesscollection-world @igotdressedthroughthemess

Next Chapter: Friends in a Fix

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cherokeegal1975 · 5 years

Text

Eden Symbiotic Ch. 1

The arrival of the explorers July 26, 2625 I was sweeping off my porch when we heard engine noise in the sky. I assumed it was just one of the few old jets that some of the rich people liked to fly for fun and ignored it. Instead I listened absently to the ssst-ssst-ssst of my broom as it brushed the smooth stones of my porch. It was an ordinary morning for us, as most mornings go. Wake up, get dressed, feed the animals, make breakfast, eat and then do the rest of the morning chores around the house. Soon after that’s done, we would go to our work shop in Mostly Human Town where we make arts and crafts for a living. My husband and I co-own a small but profitable family business selling various handcrafts. We do our part by making carvings, ceramic sculptures, pottery, baskets, jewelry and paintings in colored pencil. My children, grandchildren, and any other blood kin or even any of my in-laws who happen to be talented in profitable skills such as cooking, management, arts and crafts can also find employment at our shop. For those who have no useful talents, there are employment opportunities for dealers, janitors, waitresses, cashiers, table bussers, and stock people who are also needed. So no one in my family is left out when they need to seek employment with us. Many of my kin folk do not work directly in the shop itself. Instead, they make or grow their products at home and deliver them to the store and later receive a commission when their items have been sold. This morning I wanted to finish off a ceramic sculpture of a wyvern. I had just finished firing it yesterday and now I needed to sand it down and paint it. I thought I would like to paint it gold with copper tips on its feathers. I am sure that it would fetch a good profit; the statue was beautiful even unpainted as it is now. The noise of the engines was steadily getting louder, and I could now hear it echoing off of the mountains. We lived away from the cities to avoid the crowding, the noise pollution, and the ugly scenery. Now this unpleasant roar from the sky was disrupting the peace of our forest lands. Louder and louder it came. My beloved symbiote, Beauty, thought the old jet would fly over us and shake the very foundations of our cabin. I also sensed her hope that the persons flying that thing were being careful. The People of the Third Clan and the People of the Fourth Clan lived in Paradise Valley as we did. They were winged humanoids that frequented the skies here. Also there were dragons and shape shifters that soared in the same heavens as this bothersome jet. I was sure the noise would give them enough warning to get away in time. Yet, I did agree with Beauty that it wouldn’t hurt for them to be extra careful while flying that dratted machine so low. And still the engine’s roar grew louder. By now it was beginning to vibrate the windows of our house. My husband came out and joined us on the small porch and looked up through the lodge pole pines to see if he could spot the source of the awful racket. “I think that jet is flying too low, he could hit someone,” he commented with his voice full of concern as he continued to stare up through the trees. Beauty could hear him thinking about the people that couldn't teleport, for they would be the ones likely not able to move fast enough to get out of the speeding jet’s way. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the ever increasing racket. “And he has to know this is a no fly zone! Why is that ass breaking the safety law? ” “I'm worried about that too,” I replied as I raised my own voice above the steadily growing roar. We spoke to each other in a mix of English and Cherokee. Having grown up in bilingual homes, we tended to speak both languages at random, sticking mostly to Cherokee when we were by ourselves and then switching back to English when we were in the company of others outside our family. “I’ll warn him off and ask him to go back to where he belongs,” he said as he walked purposefully around me and started off for the clearing that is in front of our house a few yards away. I placed my broom against the side of the house and followed him. As soon as we came out of the trees and entered the clearing, I looked up at the growing con trail coming from the north. It was then I noticed that the jet flying in the bright blue sky that something about its shape didn’t look quite right and I couldn’t figure out why it looked wrong. It was still too far away to make out clearly even to my symbiont enhanced eyes. “It is close isn’t it?” Rising Sun, my husband’s symbiont, thought to us in surprise. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that it was heading straight for us, almost as if it meant to land in our clearing.” “It does look like that,” I agreed as I continued to watch the craft with an odd sense of unease. “We obviously aren’t an airport so he won’t land here. Besides, there’s not enough runway.” That last bit was meant as a joke, all be it a lame one. I sometimes used humor as a way to deal with stress. My husband nodded in agreement. None of us really believed the craft would land here, the old jet planes required a good deal more runway to take off and land. We did use the clearing as our own personal landing field and kept it maintained so the forest would not reclaim it. Our clearing was just big enough to accommodate two large dragons at a time. If that blasted old jet were to land here, it would crash into the trees demolishing our house before coming to rest. We would be fortunate if it didn’t explode as well. No, we had no reason to expect the craft to land here. Louder and closer it came, and amazingly fast! By now I could feel the sound of it vibrating my rib cage; none of us had ever seen an old jet move so quick. In seconds it would zoom over us and out of sight in a blink of an eye, or so we thought. Before Rising Sun could help my husband telepath his warning to be careful of other flyers in the area, it quickly slowed to a stop like a hover craft. Then a moment later it descended, its landing struts extending as it did so. It blasted us with hot wind, dirt and grass kicked up from its thrusters. My husband and I covered our ears with our hands to protect them from the painful roar of its engines, at the same time, Beauty and Rising Sun shielded us via telekinesis from the flying debris. Then the blast stopped and the engine’s roar died down. As we uncovered our ears, we looked at this intruding machine in astonishment. We could now see it was not an old jet plane as we had first thought. Instead, it was a large craft that strongly resembled the space shuttles that we used to hear about on the news on another world and life times ago. Only this one was larger and sleeker in design and all in shining silver. The shuttle craft popped and ticked like an old hot car as the hatch opened up from the underside of its nose. A set of stairs lowered to the ground and landed solidly in place. Then a man in a black military like uniform came into view as he descended the steps. He appeared to be roughly in his late twenties to his early thirties and about five feet nine inches in height. He was a handsome man of Mexican descent, clean shaven, his black hair short and neatly swept back. He was holding up a small device in his right hand as he looked interestedly about, as if the world around him was all new and undiscovered territory. “What the hell?!” my husband swore in stunned amazement. “Is that a Terran?” I asked him in equal astonishment. I thought he must be. It was the only logical conclusion I could come up with. Only and off-worlder would land a shuttle craft in our front yard and act as this man did. The man heard us talking to each other and looked up, finally noticing us watching him. A look of mild surprise crossed his features, then he smiled in greeting, causing his black eyes to twinkle. My husband stepped forward a few paces to greet him, and I followed beside him by his side as he did so. “Hello,” my husband greeted politely in English. “Hello,” the stranger said as he stepped forward to greet us as well with his free left hand extended. “My name is Santiago Gomez. I am a Terran emissary and I and my crew have come to make peaceful contact. Please don’t be afraid, we mean no harm.” “Well, he’s telling the truth about that,” Beauty thought to us privately as she and Rising Sun warily monitored his thoughts. Caution seemed prudent in this strange situation and our symbionts were listening to his mind intently. Thanks to them, he really couldn’t do any harm to us even if he wanted too. “It’s okay,” I said in my most reassuring and friendliest manner. “We are not easily frightened.” Mike and I were doing our best not to look as taken aback by all this as we felt. We hoped that projecting an aura of confidence would be helpful in this unexpected situation. Mike smiled and confidently grasped Santiago’s proffered hand by the wrist in typical Cherokee fashion. He opened his mouth to politely introduce us in turn, but was abruptly distracted by the next person that came out of the shuttle. She was dressed in the same kind of black uniform as Gomez, but that was where her similarity ended. We were hard pressed not to gape rudely at her as she came down the shuttle’s stairs. She was green, and she was also the first alien we had ever met that was not native to this world. She had a graceful sweep of boney ridges on her head. One part of it stared in a single small bump just above her forehead and then it rose to a three inch high crest as it swept back along the middle of her skull then back down into a small bump. Then several small ridges swept back from the sides of her head and gradually up. Both the crest and the ridges met at the back and center line of her head in a small and gracefully up turned point. Her eyes are large and almond shaped a deep blue-green, with no visible irises or pupils. Her ears are elfin and her nose broad and flat with a hint of nostrils on both sides of its base. Her mouth is a horizontal slit that didn’t look at all unattractive with the rest of her features. Her body is proportionally a little longer in the torso that I had ever seen in a humanoid before. Her limbs were long, graceful and well muscled. Beauty and I thought she is a lovely creature to behold. We watched her approach, all of us fascinated to see such a creature and very much impressed by her beauty. She caught sight of us as she came down the stair way and stopped dead in her tracks half way down. She also looked a little surprised, but she also recovered quickly and gave us a polite little bow and said in a friendly and musical voice, “Hello.” “Osiyo-um-hello,” I replied as I remembered to stop gaping rudely at her and almost forgetting to speak English. Then remembering our manners, I added politely, “Why don’t you two and whoever is still in your space ship come in for some coffee?” “Hey, good idea,” my husband agreed with me in Cherokee. Then he switched back to English and said as he too fell back on courtesy as the next and safest course of action to take in this most unlikely and surprising situation, “My wife makes excellent coffee and we are more than happy to share.” Then he added after a moment’s thought, “I know this sounds a bit cliché, but am guessing you want to talk to our leaders? We have a few in-laws that work in the Main Council. We can call them to make the introductions and answer each other’s questions.” Santiago blinked, looking somewhat taken aback by that bit of information. Before he could reply another of his crew came down the steps just behind the green woman. “We have everything ready to be locked up, sir,” said another Terran man in a black uniform as he came into view. This one was a mix of African and Caucasian decent, with medium dark skin, a fine nose and large black eyes. He saw us and stopped dead in his tracks behind the green creature. “Um, hello.” He looked as if he didn’t quite know what to make of us. “Why do they keep reacting to us like that?” I thought to Beauty curiously. “They think that you two are members of a lost colony,” Beauty thought back to me and let Rising Sun listen in too so my husband would know what we were thinking to each other about. She was reading their minds as easily as breathing, “They have encountered them before…hmmm…lost human colonies are quite rare. When they are discovered, most still remember something about their origins, but a few don’t remember anything about where they came from. Often their first contact with such members of colonies that have forgotten is a fight or flight response. Even the lost colonies that have at least some memory of their origins will sometimes have the same reaction. A lot of facts can get twisted up into ugly shapes after a long time apart from the rest of humanity.” “They are surprised that you two are so calm and confident,” Rising Sun added. “Your attitude is totally opposite to what they have learned to expect from members of a lost colony.” “Hey! Why are you blocking the stairwell?” complained a voluptuous blonde woman dressed in a black uniform like the others just a moment after the brief mental conversation we shared. She was fair skinned and had sky-blue eyes that sparked with sharp intelligence. Her features were well made and pretty but not extraordinarily so. She also had an unusually high and mousey voice. “Hello,” my husband and I hailed her in near unison. She saw us and blinked a few times in surprise then said, “Oh! Um-hello.” “Do you like coffee?” I asked as I pointed a thumb in the general direction of our house behind us. “We have a fresh pot. I’m sure we have enough for everyone here.” Then my husband added, “We don’t know how long it will be for the Main Council to show up after we call them. It could be five minutes to and hour. Likely they will just send someone to bring you back the Main Capitol just north-west of here. Until we find out what they intend to do, you might as well come in and make yourselves comfortable. My wife’s name is Molly and mine is Mike Langley.” “Thank you,” Santiago replied looking a bit taken aback. Beauty and Rising Sun sensed that he was surprised by the rapidity of his first meeting with the locals. They expected to take months and even years before they could establish the trust they needed to create the working relationship as they attempted to reintroduce the lost colonists back into mainstream society. Then he remembered to finish the introductions and said to us as he pointed out each of his remaining members, “I am the team leader and anthropologist as well as the lead emissary. This is Zillga of Esha-goh. She’s my second in command and team botanist. Celeste Malone is our pilot and geologist. George Jones is her co-pilot and our team biologist.” “Nice to meet all of you,” I replied with a small and genuinely friendly smile. I noticed that our tactic of falling back on the familiar routine of common courtesy was indeed working. The off-worlders were calming down and becoming more professional in their demeanor and minds. Heck, it was making us feel a little less disoriented. It’s true that we Edens had been hoping, waiting and expecting a visit from Earth for centuries. But never in our much extended lifetime did we expect them to come to land in our front yard and incidentally make us ambassadors of Eden. Beauty and Rising Sun refused to ‘path to them as they continued to observe the unusual events unfolding before us. They were just as surprised as we were and they were also hiding from our visitors because we weren’t supposed to tell about them just yet. As far as the off-worlders were supposed to be concerned, we were just ordinary humans living where no human should be. “Nice to meet you too,” Santiago replied with automatic politeness. Then he said, “If you would lead us back to you house, we would like to take up your offer of coffee and a meeting this Main Council of yours.” “Sure,” I said with a nod and beckoned them all to follow us back into the trees were our home resided. The other three team members finally descended the stairs and joined Santiago on the ground. Santiago then pulled out a small device from his right pants pocket and pointed it at the ship. He pressed a small button on its top with his thumb, the stairway rose back up into the ship’s hatchway and the hatch closed up tight behind it. After he replaced the device back into his pocket, he turned his attention briefly to the larger device he had been holding in his hand. It was the size of a miniature television set, grey in color and had a small key pad as far as I could tell from where Mike and I were standing. I guessed it had a small monitor on the upper portion of it as well. Beauty confirmed that my guess was correct. She was still peeking into his mind without his knowing about it. He punched something in, pointed it this way and that, and looked into the screen as his did so. When he seemed satisfied that the thing was working correctly, he walked towards us so he could follow us back to our house. Beauty and Rising Sun were still keeping an “ear” tuned into the minds of the others and helping us listen in. If any of them thought of doing anything wrong, we would know about it before they would have time to act. We were being polite and cheerful, but underneath that was a cautious reserve, a sort of wait and see attitude. Shifting their own small carrying cases and setting up their own little devices, the other three followed Santiago as we led them out of the clearing. It was then we noted that they did not appear to be armed at all. Beauty informed me that they were, but their weapons were concealed. She also sensed that they had no intention of using their weapons unless they had no other choice. We didn’t like that they were armed, but we decided with a brief wordless thought and a shared glance that we would tolerate the weapons. They were useless to them anyway and we had no plans of provoking them. “We are coming.” thought a familiar mental voice in our minds. “We will meet with them in your home shortly.” Without missing a step or even giving any indication to our guests that the Representative Speaker of the People of the First Clan had just contacted us telepathically, we led them to our cabin door and let them in. “Why did you take so long to tell us that you were aware of them?” I asked her mentally, switching back to Cherokee as I did so. “We were curious to see what they would do when they saw you,” she thought back in Cherokee also. “So the Council voted to watch and judge their reaction to meeting you when it was discovered where they planned to land. Obviously they would not be able to hurt you should they turn out to be hostile, so we permitted them to go where they wanted.” “May we show ourselves to them now Ithe?” asked Rising Sun. Ithe meant ‘mother’ in Cherokee (pronounced “ith-ee”). He was her son after all and like her, he too was telepathic. In fact, that was just about the only way he could communicate with anyone. “Not now, Love,” his mother and Councilor replied mentally. Then she reminded us (unnecessarily, I thought to myself with mild irritation), “You all need to wait until after the Council has spoken to them first. You should know that I will not release any of you from your oaths until then.” “We will keep our promise to you Madame Councilor,” Mike thought back obediently with a wordless question if he was right to be so formal. “Yes, please do call us by our formal titles while they are here,” the Councilor confirmed. “It would help if you could bring a few extra chairs and some refreshments,” I thought to her. “I have just enough coffee in our pot for one cup per off-worlder. Also, I have nothing as far as fast food that will look fancy enough for a formal meeting. The best I can do is sliced fruit, cheese and crackers. I believe some of the formality you want will be destroyed if I serve that and have some of us sitting on the floor.” “There will be no need of that,” the Councilor replied mentally. “We plan to only come long enough to introduce ourselves, answer a few questions, then teleport ourselves and them back to the Capitol.” “I will still need chairs,” I insisted mentally. “I will arrange for some when we get there,” she replied. “Okay, Wado,” I thought back and she broke contact. (‘Wado’ was Cherokee for ‘Thank you.) “Do you think they decided to come here for first contact or for other reasons than she told us?” Mike ‘pathed wonderingly to me in Cherokee with Rising Sun’s help. “They’re coming here is very odd in spite of what she said.” With Beauty’s help I ‘pathed back in the same language, “Well I guess it would be a rude shock to be suddenly teleported elsewhere. Especially when they don’t know such a thing can be done.” By the time they all came into the living room and I shut the door behind them, the telepathic communication between the Councilor and us had ended. The off-worlders were totally unaware we were ‘talking’ to anyone. The explorers looked about with interest at our living room. “Wow,” Santiago commented with obvious appreciation. Zillga’s skin deepened in color to a richer emerald green in reaction to her emotions. As far as I could tell, she looked impressed by our collection and Beauty confirmed my guess. Fascinated and delighted by Zillga’s ability to change color with her mood, I was hard pressed not to stare rudely at her with wide eyes. Mike slightly lifted an eye brow in surprise at the sight of her pretty color shift. Our cabin is of relatively modern build. Meaning the logs on the outside of our house were strictly decorative. Inside the house the walls were just smooth sheet rock that had been painted white. Bare wooden floors were in every room for the sake of convenience. We often had animals and children living with us, and bare floors were easier to maintain than carpets. We had a large living room, large kitchen, three bed rooms and an even more spacious master bedroom for Mike and me. Currently we had no children with us to fill those extra bedrooms. They were all grown up and had children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren of their own, too many for us to even bother to count any more. All twenty-five of our children were still living as well as most of the twelve or fourteen generations after them. Thank God for the Shining Ones and the symbiotic relationship they have with us. When our guests came in the first things they noticed was how familiar things looked to them. Also the surprising collection of various artifacts we had on the shelves lining the wall and the fire place mantel. The shelves were full of paperback books, old magazines, even more stories on audio disks, nick-knacks, small statues, baskets, sea shells, shed dragon scales, a few skulls, teeth, fossils of many kinds, horns, and tusks (the animal parts came from animals that died of natural causes only). Also, bug specimens, and enormous well preserved Galapagos tortoise shell, and lapidary samples of many sizes and kinds (most of fine quality). Whole or only slightly damaged egg shells from various oviparous creatures including our symbiotes’ egg shells they had hatched from so long ago set in with the rest of the hodgepodge. There was also quite a collection of ancient Native American pots, bowls, ladles arrow heads, baskets, wood and bone flutes and ceramic ocarinas. Many of the bare spots on the walls were covered by various paintings, prints, and drawings. All of the originals were done by my husband, myself or by our children or grandchildren. No family pictures though, we never liked them enough to hang them on our walls. There were two plush blue reclining rocker chairs in front of the large bay window that looked out through the trees towards the clearing. A small elegant wooden coffee table with a small and lovely antique Tiffany reading lamp on it stood between the two chairs. Strait across the living room in front of the two chairs was a large entertainment center. It contained a medium large electronic system that worked as a television set, a computer, vid-disk player, and stereo system all in one. The largest component being the monitor, the rest was quite compact and streamlined and extremely easy to use. Most of its functions were voice activated or one could use the touch screen on the monitor. Every available shelf and surface was filled with more books, audio disks, vid-disks, and even a couple of nice house plants. The only other available seating in the living room was a large plump couch that matched the reclining chairs. It was placed to the left of the chair closest to the front door and parallel to the shelf lined wall behind it, several feet away from both the chairs and the wall. In the facing wall across from the couch is a fire place. It contained no fire yet, but we often did light it in the evening for the beautiful light the fire cast. Just to break up the floor space, we had a large oriental rug in the middle of the living room that was otherwise devoid of anything else. True, the carpet was often at risk of being soiled by animal or child traffic when they were in here. But the living room would not look right without it. “You have a little of everything in here,” Zillga commented with pleasure. “What are those teeth from over there?” George asked with interest. “The large ones next to those clear crystals.” “Those crystals look like quartz,” Celeste commented as she noticed the sample on the mantel George had indicated. “They are quite lovely. Where did you get them?” “From a shop a while back,” I replied tactfully while trying to look relaxed. It didn’t occur to us that our living room would give rise to so many awkward questions. If they were observant enough, they would notice much of what we had was Terran in origin. We had promise to tell them nothing, yet our collection told much of our history. George approached the mantel and picked up a fossilized shark tooth the size of his hand. He stared at in wonder. “This is a Melodeon tooth! Where did you get this?” “Bought it in a gem and mineral show some years ago,” Mike answered. “Yeah, like five hundred and a half centuries ago in Tucson, Arizona,” Beauty mentally commented uncomfortably to me in private. “I hope Ithe won’t be upset with us. Our collection is bending our promise to the breaking point.” “Really?” George said as he turned his curious gaze toward us. “How did the dealer get it?” “Likely from another dealer,” I said evasively. We wouldn’t lie to any of them; honor prevented us from doing so. Also, for me there was another reason for sticking to the truth. I am no good at lying, so holding back information is the best I could do. “Why are you being so evasive?” Celeste asked curiously from where she stood next to George. She looked and sounded like the stereotypical dumb blonde, but everything in her demeanor and the way she looked at everything all but screamed of high intelligence. I had never seen someone have that look of excellent smarts dance in one’s eyes so much and I found myself being fascinated by it. “The Main Council bid us not to tell you anything until they got here,” Mike answered. “They are preparing to come here and introduce themselves as we speak.” “And they know you’re here,” I added helpfully. “They’ve been watching you ever since you came into orbit.” “How do you know that?” Santiago asked. He looked as if he suspected we might be lying to him or playing a joke. “Sorry, we can’t tell you that either,” Mike replied apologetically. “The Council will tell you everything when they get here,” I added with mild reassurance. Zillga asked politely, “When will this Main Council of yours arrive?” Before we could answer, there was a loud knock at the door. “About now, I suspect,” I replied as we watched Mike cross the living room and open the door. “Hello?” Mike said to an unfamiliar man holding an electronic clip-board. “Hullo,” he answered in a thick English accent. He wore an expensive three piece suit with highly polished black shoes. He glanced at his electronic clip-board then asked, “Mr. Langley I presume?” “Yes.” “I am Mr. John Stuart,” the black haired, brown eyed man said. “The Main Council sent me ahead. They will be along in a moment. May I come in?” “Yes, of course.” Mike stood aside so Mr. Stuart could enter. Mr. Stuart came in and stood at attention in front of the curio cabinet to the left of the door. Mike, seeing no one outside at present, closed the door behind him and rejoined us. There was a loud, ‘knock-knock-knock!’ Mr. Stuart unnecessarily straitened his black suit coat, opened the door and announced formally, “All rise for the Main Council.” We were already standing, so we waited quietly as the first of the Councilors stepped through our front door. “Councilor Eloyis,” Mr. Stuart introduced formally, “Representative Speaker for the People of the First Clan.” Eloyis, both our kinswoman in Joining and Main Councilor, which is a sort of president here on Eden, is one of the most beautiful creatures in existence. Her body in its true form is humanoid and well proportioned, curved and slender in all the right places. Her unusually large eyes (by human standards anyway) were a solid black, with an Asian slant and almond shaped. The rest of her facial features were fine and very human like. Her silver hair shone beautifully with its own matching halo of bioluminescent light as it cascaded from her head nearly to her feet. Her pure white skin also glowed with its own white light where the thick cloth of her dress didn’t cover her body. Her dress is elegant silver that matched her hair and sensible dress flats also in metallic silver. No jewelry adorned her person. She didn’t need it; jewelry would have only detracted from her beauty instead of enhancing it. She is just that kind of stunning. The off-worlders stood in silent awe as she regally took her place in the nearest rocker recliner. “Councilor Ian Malcolm,” Mr. Stuart announced as the next V.I.P. walked sedately through our front door, “Representative Speaker for the People of the Second Clan.” Ian Malcolm is a middle aged human man. He is a little heavy set, eyes the color of lapis, thinning red hair going grey at the temples, clean shaven, fair skinned and unjoined. He wore a steel grey business suit and black dress shoes that shone like polished obsidian. He crossed the living room and took the other rocker recliner. “Councilor Red Bird, Representative Speaker for the People of the Third Clan,” Mr. Stuart announced. With a brief glance and a polite nod at the door man, Councilor Red Bird took the nearest seat on the couch. Then she waited silently for the ceremony of formal introductions to finish. Red is a Joined One like me, her symbiote’s name is Star Jamison. It’s normally considered rude not to introduce one’s symbiote as if they were nonexistent, but someone must have told Mr. Stuart not to mention the unseen entities just yet. Just looking at Councilor Red Bird, one would not know that she is not human. In fact she is a Harpy, named after the Greek myth they strongly resembled in avian form. Her species talent is the ability to shape shift at will into a human headed, half bird-half humanoid creature. Now she looked completely human except for the ever so faint feather like markings just under her skin, and a short feather tufted tail that stuck out of her slacks. The fine hair-like feathers were colored red like a scarlet macaw’s feathers. She is small boned, with hard wiry muscles and only four feet and five inches tall, emerald eyes and fine reddish brown eyebrows. Her rich red hair is so dark that it is almost brown. She wore her shining locks in an elegant bun. She wore low heeled pumps, black slacks, silk blouse of a rich violet, black dress coat long enough to hide her tail and white pearl ear rings. She smiled kindly at the off-worlders as she took her seat and the next Councilor was announced by John Stuart. “Councilor Silvia Lloyd, Representative Speaker for the People of the Fourth Clan.” Councilor Silvia Lloyd is a beautiful woman to behold. She wore a professional black business suit (the kind with the knee length black skirt), white blouse, nude panty hose, a black low heeled pumps. Her hair is long and golden like honey and held back neatly in place by a fancy hair clasp. She has a face and body that would have easily wound up on a cover of a fashion magazine; if that is, the photographers didn’t mind her being only three feet six inches tall. She is not a midget however, her small stature is normal for her species. What is most remarkable about her appearance is her huge silver multi-spared butterfly like wings. They were held back and open to both display them and enable her to pass through the front door. Her wings are so large that the tops of them nearly touched the top of the door way and she had to keep the bottom parts of her wings partially folded up to keep them from dragging on the ground. As she headed for the middle of the couch, her wings and a hump of muscles that went all the way down her back began to shrink. In seconds, her wings were reduced to four fin-like structures to either side of her back, and the hump of extra muscle mass had been reduced to smaller, more human proportions. She folded what remained of her wings flat as she hopped up onto the couch. Feet hanging inches off of the floor and her back well away from the back of the couch, she still managed to project all the dignity and authority a Council woman should in spite of her child sized appearance. She was young for the position of Main Councilor, only about thirty. Yet she apparently had all the right stuff to make it to such a lofty position in Eden’s government. The off-worlders could not help but gape at Councilor Lloyd’s display of her species talent. For them, she was a legend come to life. How could this be? “Councilor Keto, Representative Speaker for the People of the Fifth Clan,” John Stuart announced as a huge and magnificent lion stepped through the door. Celeste let out a barely stifled, “Eeek!” when she saw him. Santiago quietly demanded of me, “Is this some kind of joke? Why is a lion on the Council? How did it get here for that matter?” “Watch,” I whispered back to him. Then I thought to Keto, “Show off!” Councilor Keto is not a true lion at all. Well, that isn’t quite accurate. He is a cat - sort of. All one had to do to know this is to notice the visibly darker diamond shaped patch of fur on his fore head. Like Red Bird, Mike and I, Keto is Joined. His symbiote’s name is Timothy, son of Governor Amoitoy and Councilor Eloyis. This made him one of our in-laws. Keto had ignored my playful telepathic remark. We were friends, but he is all business today. He paused before the third and final seat on the couch before demonstrating his species talent. His muzzle became shorter and the place where his spine attached to his skull changed so his head could be comfortably held upright. His chest changed from cat to a well muscled humanoid torso. Shoulders, arms and hands metamorphosed from paws and forelegs. Hips flattened out and broadened into human like hips. Male feline genitals became humanoid, he was quite well endowed. His hind legs lengthened and rounded out as the distance between his hind toes and his hocks became smaller. He settled down on his newly formed heels as his tufted tail shrank up and out of the way between his well formed buttocks. The entire transformation took only about five seconds. Stunned, the off-worlders could only stare at him as he took his seat next to Silvia. Mr. Stuart announced the Sixth and final Council member before shutting the door behind them. “Councilor Shardan, Representative Speaker of the People of the Sixth Clan.” Shardan’s name is actually two human names stuck together, a common tradition among the Sirens. Her name came from the two names ‘Shar’ from Sharron and ‘Dan’ from Danny. Shardan had long silver antennae that resembled dense ostrich plumes on top of her head. Or his head if one preferred. For Shardan was both male and female. Though most preferred to be referred to as female, it made things simpler that way. Her antennae shimmered in the indirect sunlight coming through the bay window’s lace curtains. This shimmering effect is caused by the cilia on the hair like fronds of her antennae and moved inward as they waved in the air in their dense multitudes to generate a small air current to bring even the slightest smells to them. She has a rounded, triangular shaped head and strong jaws. Small nostrils were set close to the end of her small blunt ended snout, one on each side. Large dark grey eyes protected by boney eye ridges that were set on either side of her head. In spite of the arrangement, of her eyes, Shardan had stereo vision like predatory birds. Just three finger spaces behind Shardan’s eyes are where the pinky finger thick bases of her antennae were attached. Slightly before and three finger spaces down below her antennae were the small lizard like openings to her ear canals. The Sixth Clanner’s body is well muscled with elements of both male and female. From the waist up, Shardan resembled broad shouldered man. From the waist down, she resembled a woman with well defined hips. Shardan, like most of her kind wore no clothing, so her very human like male sex organs were easily visible while her female sex organs remained hidden just behind them. Her hands and feet had only four digits on each of them and were broad and powerful looking, tipped with shiny black claws. Except for the tips of her dark nipples, the foot pads and the undersides of her fingers and the palms of her hands, Shardan is covered in a sleek horse like fur coat. It shone silver grey as she sat in the rocking chair nearest to the one Ian occupied. As she sat down, she squinted and blinked her eyes a few times before shutting her inner lids. Sixth Clanners had excellent vision, especially at night or in dark places. Though able to see well enough in lighted areas, they were a bit photophobic. The entrance way must have been dark enough for to open her inner lids. Then it became too bright for her by the window. The photosensitive inner lids quickly darkened like prescription sun glasses, making them appear solid black. Mike had Rising Sun teleport the rocking chair from our bedroom when he noticed only five of the six Councilors had places to sit. Shardan had taken her seat with quiet dignity as the off-worlders tried to figure out where the chair had come from. Distracted by her entrance, they had not seen its sudden appearance nor had they noticed the slight breeze from the displaced air when it appeared. Eloyis eyed Mike reproachfully at his and Rising Sun’s nearly breaking their oath of secrecy. Mike just smiled serenely. Eloyis sighed quietly and gave in. With a slight outward breeze of displaced air, six folding chairs appeared in a semicircle in the open space in our living room. “Sa-rrru Cha!” swore Zillga as she paled to a faded yellow green, an expression of what could we could only take as shock and wonderment. The others gasped and stared in confusion and wonder, apparently lost for words unlike Zillga. Mike took the chair next to Shardan’s left, and I sat to Mike’s left. “Do not be afraid,” Keto rumbled in his deep growling voice. “Councilor Eloyis teleported chairs for all of you. Please, be seated.” “It’s okay,” I added encouragingly as I kindly gestured for them to take their seats. The off-worlders looked at each other, and then Santiago shrugged and took the seat next me. Zillga, Celeste and George took the other three chairs. “On behalf of the entire Main Council, welcome to Eden,” Eloyis intoned formally in her lovely alto. She smiled radiantly, quite literally. Her glow momentarily brightened as she smiled, and no, the inside of her mouth doesn’t glow. “Why make first contact here?” I thought to her. I wanted to know if the Council really had any other motives for coming to my house for this historic event. “We decided it was only fair that we hold it here at least in part because we did let them land right in your front yard after all,” Eloyis mentally replied. “Very thoughtful of you,” I thought back appreciatively. “We will answer your questions now,” Eloyis said to the off-worlders. “How did you make these chairs appear?” Santiago asked. “We First Clanners are telekinetic,” Eloyis answered. “That’s quite a talent,” Santiago said, looking impressed. “Do you know who we are already?” George asked. “Yes,” Eloyis answered. “We have been monitoring your activities ever since the Nova was detected by one of our lunar stations.” “We voted to simply to observe you for a time to see what you would do,” Silvia said in her sweet, almost musical voice. “From the moment of our agreement,” Keto rumbled in his rich bass, “the Council has been closely monitoring you telepathically.” “Telepathy?” Santiago said skeptically. “Yes,” Eloyis thought loudly to everyone. We could not help but notice that her mouth was completely shut and not moving when she answered Santiago. There was no doubting that she was thinking at us and not speaking. Unlike the television shows and movies, in real life, people who can telepath don’t make funny expressions and their mental voices sound just like someone speaking. There is no echo or hearing words inside one’s head, one “hears” thoughts with their ears. It is just the way the brain perceives telepathy. The receivers also sense feelings and emotions ‘pathed to them almost as if it were their own. Ian spoke in his unremarkable baritone, “We watched you because you were a potential threat and we needed to know what you intentions were.” Santiago nodded with understanding. He and his companions obviously did not like the First Clanner’s method of spying on his people. Yet they seemed to except their motives were reasonable enough. “Thanks to the First Clanners, we have learned that your intentions are peaceful.” Shardan said in her pleasant and sexually neutral voice. “And we know you only wish to exchange knowledge and trade with us,” Ian added. “We will allow this once it is established that making contact with what you call ‘the known universe’ will cause no great harm to our world,” Red said as she regarded the off-worlders with her emerald eyes. “We are especially wary of off-world humans,” Eloyis said. “Our history is strange and intimately intertwined with Earth’s history. Some of our history is rather unpleasant and frightening. Mostly it’s our power and physical needs that tend to frighten people the most. Many have rejected us before, often violently.” “Like the ability to spy on us telepathically,” Santiago said suggested. “That is one reason,” Eloyis agreed, “though I can promise you that it is not our usual habit to spy on others minds.” “I am glad to hear that,” Santiago replied. “Is it your people that are responsible for the presence of humans on this planet?” Zillga asked. “Or is it the other Clans that are responsible?” “It is we Shining Ones that is responsible for the presence of everything on this planet, including humans,” Eloyis answered. “You mean your people terra formed this planet?” Zillga said with impressed amazement. “Not many races can do that, and rarely can they do it as well as we have seen so far.” “Thank you,” Eloyis said graciously. “You also mentioned something about your physical needs as well as your powers may cause our people to reject Eden,” George said with wary curiosity. “What do you mean by that? How is Earth’s history and Eden’s history connected?” This is a potential can of worms, I thought. Then I prayed that things would be all right. “Amen to that,” Eloyis thought back to me privately. Then out loud she spoke the off-worlders, “Those are some good questions, and it will take time to fully explain.” “We got time,” Celeste piped up. “And nobody’s perfect. I for one am willing to keep an open mind. So I see no reason to fear you.” Eloyis sighed grimly. “You may yet find reason, even though we have no intent in causing you to fear us.” Then she continued, “The beginning of Eden’s history is a strange and tragically violent one…” Eloyis recounted Eden’s history from the passage of the colonial ships to present day Eden. She had always been a good story teller and she was bluntly candid and completely honest in her recount. The off-world visitors were alternatively fascinated and horrified by the violent beginnings of the Shining Ones. Eloyis concluded, “We have not completely discontinued contact from Earth, even though we have all moved away. None had the heart to cut the Second Clanners off completely from their home world. Many had left family and friends behind, especially in the beginning, so small and strictly regulated visits by tourists and journalists are permitted to go to Earth in secret. We are kept informed on the goings on at Earth as a distance.

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cherokeegal1975 · 5 years

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Eden Symbiotic, Ch.1

This book can be bought on Amazon either as a kindle or as a paperback book. Just type in “Eden Symbiotic by Meriah Smith” and it will pop right up.

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