Title: Nothing and Everything

Chapter 14

~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen took another step back from him. She had limited space to maneuver. Floorboards from above littered the earthen ground and behind her were jagged pieces of rusty metal, traps of some kind. “What do you want,” she repeated.

“At first, I wanted to tease you. You laughed at my jokes and I’m all about brunettes with a sense of humor. Something Sam and I share, I think.”

“You and Sam are nothing alike.”

He bristled a little at that, his stare going even colder than it already was. “Meeting a woman who knows what I am and still laughs? Doesn’t happen often. Most women who know the truth don’t dare laugh. It’s the fearless ones who do and that’s a mating call of sorts to my kind. You got my attention, but I determined I had time before I needed to buckle down and really woo you from Sam.” He circled her, pausing behind her to lean close to her ear. “I could, you know.”

She jerked away, stumbling a bit on the boards.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve swept a girl off her feet and stolen her from a human male.”

Gwen rolled her eyes a little. He definitely had pride to think he could take her from Sam. “Quite an ego you’ve got there.”

“Don’t we all? I followed you, went into your house, and picked up those pages, discovering who you really are.” His chuckle was hard and angry. “Fate has a sense of humor. You’re the daughter of the man who stole a piece of my power, a breath of my magic.”

A piece of his power? She frowned at the idea. How was it even possible to do that? “That’s not possible,” she said slowly, pondering it, uncertain that it wasn’t possible. To take a piece of a creature’s power meant that that power could be taken away. If the power could be taken away, the creature could be negated as a threat. Did it just apply to him, or did it apply to all creatures that used powers like he did?

“You live in a world of monsters, demons, angels, and magic, and don’t believe it’s possible for someone to steal some of my magic? I assure you it is possible. Not many people over centuries have ever figured out how to do it though. I’ve managed to keep the information hidden for the most part. Take a few arcane rituals and spells, mix them up together and…voilá . Your daddy put together quite a powerful stew. He’d figured out just what he needed from all of them.” He tapped a finger to his temple. “Smart man. Too smart for his own good. Resourceful rat.”

“Why would he do that?” She crossed her arms. “Why would he even care to trap some of your magic?”

“Let me start with the fundamentals. You won’t hear this lesson again, so pay attention, darling. Pretend I’m like an orange. Rind is my body as a whole, pith is my magic, pulp is my blood and insides, and juice my very powerful DNA. My magic surrounds me, it’s a part of me, and I breathe magic with every breath, inhaling a mix of oxygen and my own magic and exhaling carbon dioxide and magic. It’s integral to how I work with the world, connecting me to it. Following me so far?”

“Yes.” It made sense so far.

“Aaron played a little trick on me, said his spell, incapacitated me. That’s what his spell did. It incapacitated me so he could do his bit of surgery on me, like…anesthetic. It numbed, temporarily took away my ability to move and work my magic. While he was slicing open my rind to steal some pith,” he held up one arm and indicated a long thin scar along his forearm, “he said in a solicitous manner that he hated to harm me, had the utmost respect for me as a creature, but he was desperate. He needed a bit of my magic to trick a scheming woman so her plans fell apart and his child was saved.”

Gwen’s mouth felt dry. He’d done that in an attempt to save her? That meant he’d known about Mia at some point. When? When had he realized the truth about her? How long had Aaron known his wife was evil?

He pointed at her. “You, as it turns out. He was confident it’d be a few days at most. He’d release my magic so it’d influence matters opposite of how they would likely go and it’d return to me naturally a few days after that. That’s how it works, you see. My magic returns into me, recycles inside me.”

If he was angry, going on about it coming back, then it must not have been returned to him. It was still out there. “You never got it back,” she guessed.

“He lied to me. To me.” Rage burned hot in his eyes, his hands clenching into tight fists. “Bound it up in a wooden and silver box lined with lead and left me with a hole inside.” One hand reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, flipping it at her.

She caught it, opened it. It was a detailed drawing of a box that was so real it looked like a photograph. “It doesn’t seem to have affected your powers.” Gwen folded the paper back up.

“But I feel the hole of that missing piece every day, like a hand that’s been chopped off. Phantom pain that’s very real. Just because I’ve gotten used to not having it doesn’t mean I don’t want it back if I can get it.”

She supposed she could understand that. “How long have you been following me?”

One brow raised. “You mean before or after your angel friend tried to alter my memories? Her little erasing memories trick doesn’t work for long on my kind. We’re made to alter reality, so it’s hard for ours to be altered successfully even by angels.” He stepped close, hand raising and fingers trailing lightly down the left side of her face. “Here’s what I’m going to do. I’ve had fun the past couple days, so I’m feeling generous here. You have six months to return my magic to me from wherever daddy put it. You can bring it to me in Las Vegas -- the same hotel Dean and Jo stayed at -- or you can use it and let it slide back to me. Keep in mind if you do use it? It’ll take a couple days to find me, so mind your timeline. Six months, darling.”

She didn’t move, felt pinned by his gaze. “Then what?” Tension tightened the muscles along her shoulders.

“Then I come for you and I will find you. That angel can’t keep me from you forever.”

Come for her? She didn’t like the sound of that. “What if I can’t find it?”

His other hand raised so he was cupping her face. “Then we’ll see if you can tell the difference between me and lover-boy.” His thumbs caressed gently. “Six months is plenty of time to perfect my impression. I’m almost there already. You’ll bear my child, Gwen, then I’ll take it with me and leave you to feel the loss and know that eventually any one of my kind you hunt could be your own child.” A small smile turned his lips. “Perhaps Sam will wait for you.”

“Twisted, psychotic --” She tried to pull away, shoving at him, but his hands tightened on her, fingers digging in. He was as unmovable as a rooted tree before her.

“It’s fitting don’t you think? I’ll take a piece of you, ultimately a piece of your father, to replace what he took. You’ll pay for his sin.” Now he released her, hands held out to his sides as he stepped back. “Better find that box, don’t you think? Time’s a-wastin’.”

“And if I do find the box and return the piece to you?”

He appeared to consider the question, though she suspected he didn’t need tot hink about it. “I’ll forget all of you. You and Sam, Dean and Jo, the child Jack, and any children any of you ever have. I’ll forget any of us ever met and give you a wide berth. The slate will be wiped clean between me and your family. How is that for incentive?”

“I don’t know where to look,” she protested. “I didn’t even know about the properties until a couple months ago. How am I supposed to find this box when I’ve no idea where it could be?”

“Not my problem. Happy hunting, darling.” He blew her a kiss. “I look forward to getting to know you really well in a few months.”

He was gone then and she was standing in the stinking damp basement area right below the ruined floor she’d fallen through. Her stomach growled and she felt faintly lightheaded and thirsty. How long had it been? Hours? Days? On the floor not far from her feet, she saw her gun and phone. The phone was still smashed, but the gun appeared to be in working order when she checked it over.

Time passed. Gwen felt like she was going to pass out, the lightheadedness increasing as her hunger increased. How was she going to get out of here and what on earth was she going to do about his ultimatum?

A light appeared above her and grew, bright and hurting her eyes, Sam’s voice calling out. He was there at the edge of the hole, getting onto his hands and knees. “Dean! She’s here! I see her!”

It looked like Sam, sounded like Sam, but was it? Gwen hated the suspicion that this was one more trick and braced herself for disappointment. The Trickster had given her that challenge, yet there was no guarantee he’d let her go without a last illusion to ram home how close he was coming to having his Sam impression down pat.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean was worried about having Jack there. Abigael stood with a hand on the edge of the portable crib, looking at Dean. He was asleep, as close to the crib as he could be without falling between it and the bed. One hand was against the mesh of the side. The bed covers were a tangle at his legs. Most of the covers were wrapped around Jo, who’d been restless for a few hours before her body and mind finally rested.

She didn’t often enter their home or the place Jack was, only doing so when she sensed him in distress for some reason. Thus far, his distress had only been natural things: hunger, fatigue, or a need for a clean diaper. This entering of their common space was not because of Jack. Circling above, watching over the town, she’d felt a pull to come down and stand guard over all of them for awhile. She’d felt a need to be close to them and wondered if Castiel had ever felt that. Had he ever stopped by to guard over them as they slept?

Poor Dean. So worried about Jack, about Jo and Sam, and about Gwen. He’d been doing a very good impression of a man just there as potential back-up, but really he was scared to death that he’d made the wrong decision and brought his son into danger. He was terrified that something was going to go wrong and he wouldn’t be able to stop it from happening. This was quite a moment of personal growth for him. He’d gone against his instincts because he’d understood that the circumstances surrounding Gwen’s disappearance meant he could be needed. He’d brought his son and was doing everything possible to protect him while he waited.

Abigael was proud of him and knew Castiel was going to be as well. She almost wished she was allowed to tell Dean that she was there, that nothing that wasn’t already in Jack’s future would harm him, and ease Dean’s mind on the matter. She couldn’t however. It was against the rules they’d been given and she’d be disciplined severely if she broke that rule.

She also couldn’t tell them that Gwen was right there and they were right about the Trickster. That he’d recovered so quickly from her memory wipe bothered her, yet she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. He lived and breathed misdirection and altered reality. It only made sense that any changes made to him wouldn’t stick. Sam had reached the conclusion that it was the Trickster quickly and she decided he must have had fears to that end on his mind since the Trickster’s full interest in Gwen had been realized.

Poor Sam. She turned her attention to him now. He couldn’t sleep with Gwen gone and he was getting irritable and hard to work with. He and Jo had been sniping at each other. They assumed it was the Trickster, but it wasn’t. He wasn’t bothering with them. It was their own worries and fears affecting them. The Trickster was only interested in Gwen at present.

Abigael stepped to the table and watched Sam. He was going over the notes and floor plan, searching for something they’d missed. His hair was messed up from running his hands through it over and over and there were smudges of dark shadows beneath his eyes. The strain of neglecting sleep showed plain on his face. Strange how in moments like this she could clearly see the physical resemblance between Sam and Dean.

Sam was having a tough time with Gwen lately. One worry would be negated and another would crop up right on the heels of it. He was either going to persevere and push through this rocky time or retreat and sacrifice his own happiness and Gwen’s. She wondered if he was strong enough yet in that area to choose the former instead of the latter. Sam Winchester had sacrificed too much already in his young life and been burned too often in this area.

“You can’t help her unless you rest, Sam,” she whispered, but not so that he’d hear her. “You know that. Rest. At least a couple hours.” Abigael stretched out a hand, sliding her fingers in a slow, gentle caress across his forehead and inducing sleep. She laid his head on the table and arranged him in a semi-comfortable position.

If needed later, she could use logic in her defense for interference. Humans suffering from a lack of rest often displayed impaired judgment. With Jack present, Sam could be a potential danger in his current state. He wouldn’t, but the logic was in her favor. Castiel would give her a stern stare that had the slightest bit of approval in his eyes and let her go without reproach.

She did a final check of the immediate area, gave Jack a fond kiss on the forehead goodbye, and retreated to watch over her charge and the town from above.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean was awake before anyone else, getting his shower out of the way, then Jack’s feeding. He got Jack dressed and, with a glance at Jo (still unconscious in bed and snoring, though she’d deny it later) and Sam (sprawled at the table drooling on the floor plan of the compound), began putting Jack’s coat on him. “Let’s go get mommy a nice big coffee and something girly for uncle Sammy.”

Jack smiled and blew spit bubbles.

When they got back, Jo was sitting up in bed, staring at the wall in the way she did when she was still mostly asleep. She yawned, sniffed, and began trying to unwind herself of the sheets and blankets twisted around her. “I smell coffee.”

“I brought you coffee.” He set down the four cup container, realizing suddenly that he’d bought four cups instead of three. Dean laid Jack in the crib and lifted the fourth cup. Throw it out or quickly drink it? Gwen usually took her coffee like Dean did. He decided to drink it and took the lid off.

Jo stumbled to the table and sat heavily in the chair across from Sam. “Don’t feel weird about that. I bought two cups that morning before you and Sam got here.”

Jack let out a pained screech and upon checking his diaper, Dean discovered Jack had a rather soggy bottom. “You know, you can keep some of your breakfast in for more than twenty minutes. You don’t have to pee it out immediately.”

“Huh?” Jo pried the lid off her coffee and sniffed it appreciatively. “Mmm. Caramel and vanilla. Dean, you spoil me.”

“Whenever I can,” he replied, “on Ellen and Bobby’s orders.”

“Shouldn’t you wake Sam up?”

He finished changing Jack, much to Jack’s disappointment. He wasn’t happy to have a diaper back on, his delighted smile at having a naked butt replaced with a frown the second Dean fastened the diaper. Dean decided Jack was going to be trouble when he got older. He seemed to prefer being naked. “Let him sleep a little longer. He needs the rest.” He clipped a pacifier to Jack’s shirt and maneuvered it into his mouth, then turned and looked at Jo. Her hair was tangled, her eyes were still half closed, and she’d put on Dean’s robe instead of her own, but she was gorgeous. How could she look so beautiful the second she woke?

“How is he still asleep after that screech,” she mused.

“Exhaustion.”

“Mmm.” She took a long drink of coffee. “I suppose I should get in the shower.”

“You’re staying here today.” He’d thought long and hard about this and would argue with her if needed.

She didn’t argue with the order, nodding and even appearing thoughtful. “You might see something we missed.”

“Jo?”

“Hmm?” She looked up at him.

Dean moved to the table. “No argument?”

“No. I can’t go through that building one more time. I can tell you how many paces into each room and everything, but it’s too depressing. She disappeared right behind me. In a single second. There was nothing I could do.”

“He’s not behaving like himself, you know. The Trickster. Where’s the lesson here?”

“Maybe for Sam to learn to let go?”

He pondered that idea and dismissed it. “I don’t think so. It happened with you here, not Sam. He waited until it was just you two. That indicates to me that he thought Sam or I would get in the way before he could snatch her. I don’t think he’s teaching or tricking anyone but Gwen.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“He separated her from you, isolated her, and hasn’t done anything to you. Looks like he even saved you from being hurt. We know he’s sweet on her, yet angry about something Aaron did. I know you and Sam are afraid he’s hurt her, but I don’t think so.” Dean shook his head. “I think he took her for a reason and he’ll either return her or let her leave when that reason is done.”

“What reason could he possibly have?”

Sam jerked, made a snorting noise, and turned his head on the table before sighing and going back to sleep.

“Don’t know. We’re going to open up the windows, pull down the lower boards, open that wide side door, and let some light in. Electricity should be on by noon. I talked to the town yesterday and they agreed to turn it on for a few days for us. We’ll be able to see, which should help. Might even find the entrance into the basement. My money is that it’s under the cars or the wagon you mentioned.”

“Keep me informed?”

“Of course. I also initiated proceedings with some pretty young naïve thing to get account information. Played the stressed, grieving relative having to deal with a large estate card. Should know later today where the money is coming from and if not, I’ll go in tonight and get it.”

“You’ve been busy, Dean.”

“A little. You and Sam were busy elsewhere. Besides, we need to know this stuff anyway.”

He woke Sam and by ten, they were hard at work out at the property. He went in slowly, like he hadn’t been listening to Jo and Sam, scrutinizing everything while Sam worked on the windows.

Dean stepped carefully to the hole in the main floor, shining the light down and panning it back and forth. Jo and Sam were right. All that he saw down there were floorboards, dirt, and pieces of rusty metal. Carefully, he changed positions, moving opposite where he’d been and crouching down. No blood, no body, no nothing. That certainly pointed to their conclusion. Next, he went to the two cars and the wagon at the end of the room, laying down and peering beneath them.

There. Under the wagon. That was a handle. That was also a large, heavy wagon in the way. Difficult for them to move even with two of them. It could be done, he thought, but they’d be hurting later. Might be easier to chop it to pieces. Maybe later. He also found a long ladder that Sam and Jo had forgotten to mention. Maybe they’d do the upper windows too, really let the light inside.

He toured the apartment part of the compound, finding it depressingly like the compound he’d become familiar with in 2011. There had been attempts to make it family friendly, like the mural on the bedroom wall, but for the most part, it was depressing. He tried to imagine children growing up here and couldn’t. Dean much preferred their own set-up and the cheery colors Jo had chosen for the nursery.

When he’d seen everything there was to see, he went to help Sam. They’d get the boards down, then try the power and if it was on and bulbs still worked, they’d begin tearing the inside of the building apart looking for her, one section at a time.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam felt better than he’d expected for only a couple hours of sleep. Pulling boards from the windows was an activity that made him feel like he was at least doing something to help Gwen. Dean came around the corner of the building and Sam paused. “Find anything?”

“The trapdoor to the basement, but we’ll need to move the wagon to open it.”

“Think they were trying to protect something down there?”

Dean snorted. “At this point? I think they just did it out of orneriness. Make things harder for anyone coming in being nosy. Found a ladder, too. Why didn’t you two tell me there was a ladder?”

He thought about it and couldn’t remember there being one, but maybe he’d missed seeing it. “I don’t remember a ladder. Where is it?” He dropped one board to the ground.

“Behind the cars and wagon against the wall.”

“Huh.”

“Huh?”

“Oh,” he reached up with the hammer for the next board, “I just don’t remember seeing a ladder the past couple days, though I didn’t look back there for more than a minute and only with a flashlight. Guess I might’ve missed it.”

With Dean’s help, the task went faster and soon, all of the lower windows were free of boards and they’d cleared enough snow to open the double doors on the long side of the building. Sam strode through them and to the hole in the floor. “She’s down there, Dean. I know she is.”

“Yeah, well, help me with this wagon and we’ll go down and take a better look.”

He moved to help him, giving the hole a last glance.

It was strange how Gwen appeared. She hadn’t been there and then she was, blinking at the light and holding a hand up partially over her eyes. “Dean! She’s here! I see her!” Relief flooded through his body.

“You hallucinating now, Sammy?” Dean stepped closer, expression shifting into concern when he saw her. “Son of a bitch. You’re right.” He carefully knelt on the other side of the hole. “Gwen? You hear us okay? You hurt?”

She was behaving strangely, not reaching up for their help. Instead, she stared at them with suspicion. “I hear you and I’m not hurt. I thought I had a concussion at first, but I don’t think I do.”

Sam stretched out carefully at the edge of the ruined floor. “Give me your hands. I’ll pull you up.”

The words that came out of her mouth weren’t anything near what he expected.

“What would you do if I was pregnant, Sam?”

What kind of a question was that? He glanced at Dean, who gave him a perplexed shrug. “Um…you want to talk about this now? Can’t it wait? Because I’m thinking this isn’t really the time --”

“Answer the question.”

He licked his lips, thinking in furious circles about how he really felt on the issue right now, wanting to give her as honest an answer as possible in as short a time as possible. He could feel the floorboards beneath him beginning to sag more than they were. “Well, used to be I’d take you and leave, start over somewhere with new identities.”

Her head tilted to one side, like she was listening carefully to everything about his answer, from the words themselves, to his voice. “And now?”

“I’m not sure. Dean and Jo didn’t do that. I don’t know what I’d do. Why?”

“Do you want a baby?”

He froze, eyes going wide. Hell no he didn’t want a baby. No way he was ready for that. Sam took a deep breath and blew it out. “No. Not…God, Gwen. Not right now. You know I’m not ready for that. I might never be.”

Her expression shifted to relief and her shoulders sagged. Her eyes closed a moment before she opened them and stretched her hands up to him so he could pull her up. “Get me out of here, Sam.”

He couldn’t quite reach her though. “Damn it. Dean --”

Dean snapped his fingers. “Ladder.”

“You read my mind.”

They lowered the ladder down to her. It was just long enough.

When she was up, and they were all away from the ruined center section of floor, Dean stared hard at her. “What the hell happened to you down there?”

“Don’t ask.” She was shivering a little, whether from cold or emotion Sam wasn’t sure. Maybe both.

“You know I gotta.”

“Where’s Jo? Is she okay?”

“She’s back at the motel with Jack,” Sam told her, rubbing a hand along her back.

“Tell,” Dean prodded.

Gwen glanced back at the hole in the floor and shuddered. “Can I have a shower, a change of clothes, and a hot meal first? I’ve no idea when the last time I actually ate was. I’m sort of lightheaded right now.”

“We can arrange that.” Sam gave Dean a discouraging glance. “Talk as you eat.”

“As we all eat,” Dean added. “Hold on. Sam, let’s get the ladder up. We’ll need it later.”

The ladder was gone and from the rafters came the sound of wings flapping. Sam stared up there. “You son of a bitch! Come down and face me! You want her you have to go through me!”

Gwen touched his chest with a hand. “Sam, can we just go? Please?”

She was exhausted, he could see it, and whatever the creature had done had put a suspicion of him there in her eyes. He hated seeing that spark of doubt and with a last glance upwards, Sam nodded. “Okay. I’ll track him down later.” It was a promise.

“Oh, I know you will. You definitely will.”

Her tone held a certainty and Sam knew he wasn’t going to like whatever she was going to say later. They stepped out of the long doors, Dean sliding them closed behind them.

“How long was I gone,” Gwen asked as they walked down the driveway.

“Four days.” Sam helped her over the fence. “You were missing for four days. Today would’ve been the fifth.”

Dean headed straight for the nearest fast food place, buying Gwen a meal deal and handing it across the seat to her. She had it gone before they’d reached their motel.

Jo grabbed Gwen to her in a long hug when they came through the door. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

“Not my fault.”

“Still. No more disappearing.”

“I’ll do my best.” Gwen went into the bathroom to take her shower and just as she was shutting the door, Sam stopped her.

He glanced over his shoulder at Dean and Jo before leaning down to her. “Do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Sing while you’re in there so I know you’re still here?” His request might seem silly to some, but he needed to hear her voice and sometimes she sang in the shower anyway.

She didn’t hesitate, nodding. “Any requests?”

“No, just…keep singing for me.”

Her hand raised, fingers smoothing along his cheek and jaw. “Only for you, Sam.” Lowering her hand, she eased the door shut. After a minute, the shower started and Gwen began to sing.

He dragged a chair to the door and sat, watching Dean and Jo clean up the room a little and listening to Gwen’s soft singing in the shower. She alive and well it seemed, but the Trickster was going to be in a world of hurt when Sam finally got hold of him.