Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction / Fan Fiction ❯ In Omnia Paratus ❯ Conversations ( Chapter 9 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

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“You sure you're okay?” Dean asked off-handedly as he climbed back into his own bed on the floor.

Sam was still sitting up in his bed—the real bed—though he looked pale, exhausted and about to drop, and at Dean's question he started violently and nearly fell to the floor. “What?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I asked if you were sure you're okay.”

“Oh…” Sam said, and then fell silent again.

After waiting for a while for some kind of actual answer, Dean asked, “Well, are you?”

Sam pulled himself out of his reverie again. “Am I what?”

“Okay! Are you okay!” Dean snapped in annoyance, tired of letting Sam see his worry.

But it didn't matter, because Sam didn't seem to be noticing anything at the moment. He just answered slowly, “I'm not sure…things just seem…weird right now.”

“Well, yeah. `cause they are weird. This whole freakin' thing is weird. If it wasn't we wouldn't be here.” And I'm not sure we should be here in the first place…

The last thought must have shown on his face, because Sam asked suddenly, “Dean, you're not mad at me for dragging you here, are you?”

Dean groaned and turned over on his side to face his brother. “Aw, man, we don't have to have a talk now, do we?”

Sam just looked at him without the slightest change in expression. “Are you?”

“Apparently we do,” Dean griped.

“Would you just answer my question, Dean?”

Dean sighed. Sam obviously wasn't planning to give him a choice. “Well, I'll admit that I don't really get any of this. I mean, sure, weird things happened in Japan, but weird things happen to us all the time, Sam. Your whole shining deal, for instance. Why're you freaking out about this?”

“Because my `shining deal' has never had the potential to get someone killed.”

“It happened once. What's to say it's gonna happen again?”

“It will, Dean,” Sam said, with an absolute certainty that left no room for argument. “I know it will. And…and it's not over, either.”

“What're you talking about?”

Sam sighed and rubbed his forehead, then reached for the duffel bag on the floor next to his bed. He took out a bottle of pills that Dean recognized as headache meds and swallowed two of them dry. “The visions, and now this new hyper speed thing—it's only the beginning. There's more on the way.”

“Oh, come on, don't tell me that. Are you serious?”

“No, Dean, it's a joke I made up because I'm obviously feeling really funny tonight.”

“Sarcasm doesn't become you, Sammy. Okay, so there's more coming. Like what?”

Sam shrugged. “I dunno. It's a mystery to me, too.”

“So…how do you know it's true at all?” Dean asked skeptically.

“I…well, I get the feeling that someone told me…but I haven't got a clue who it could have been. I know it was in my dream, but…I can't remember.”

Dean groaned and knocked his head against the wall. “I…” Thud. “Am…” Thud. “So…” Thud. “Sick…” Thud. “Of this!” Thud, thud, thud. “This is the second time you've woken up without remembering stuff that could be really important, Sam!”

“You think I don't realize that?” Sam said, his voice tight from trying not to yell. “Do you have any idea how much I hate knowing this stuff but not knowing how I know it or what the hell I'm supposed to do about it? I mean, I still don't understand these visions or why I have them and now something else has come along and…I just don't know how much longer I can deal with all this! I mean, why do you think I wanted to come here, Dean?” And then Sam's voice went quiet again. “I thought…I wanted to figure out the why.”

Dean wasn't prepared for the sadness he felt when he heard all of this, and he couldn't for the life of him understand the emotion. Sam hadn't said anything he didn't already know, deep down, but hearing the actual words was…different. “Sam…” But the words he wanted to say just wouldn't come—they never did. Finally, he sighed and said, “Look, get some sleep, dude. Maybe it'll be easier to get answers in the morning.”

“Yeah…yeah, maybe you're right,” Sam said, reaching over to turn off the lamp. Dean heard him slide under the covers, and then silence fell.

Dean was nearly asleep when suddenly Sam's voice floated through the dark. “Dean?”

“Yeah, Sam?” Dean replied, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“Do you think we should call Dad?”

There was a very long, tense silence, and then Dean spoke, though more to himself than to Sam. “…I don't think so.”

The bed creaked as Sam turned over, and Dean could tell that his brother was watching him. “Really?” Sam asked, sounding surprised.

Dean shrugged even though Sam probably couldn't see him. “Well, what's the point? We don't actually know anything.” He heard Sam draw in a breath and, knowing he was about to argue, hurried on before Sam started it. “I mean, we've got your gut and a couple of demons and a Slayer and a bunch of weirdos, and we know there's something going on, but without the facts and the research to back it up, to Dad, we have next to nothing.”

“What about that Hellmouth thing?” Sam asked, though he sounded a little uncertain, and Dean could understand why.

“Well, how do we know that thing even exists? I mean, the people here seem to think it's real enough, but I've never heard of it, and neither has Dad. And if Dad has never heard of it…” He let the words trail away, but the rest of his sentence was clear enough. If Dad hasn't heard of it, it can't be real…right?

“Yeah, maybe,” Sam said, but doubt tinged his voice. “But wouldn't Dad want to know about this Slayer business?”

“Yeah, he would, but at this point we don't know anything about her, either. I don't even know what a Slayer is. I mean, Kurama said she fights demons, like we do, but what does that actually mean? Who is she? And what do all those people have to do with it? And another thing—if she fights demons, why did she invite Hiei and Kurama to stay in her house?!”

Sam groaned in frustration. “I am so tired of nothing making sense in our lives.”

“Yeah, I know. I'm beginning to get why you're so crabby all the time.”

“Bite me. So…what about Kurama and Hiei? And Yusuke and Yukina and Kuwabara and Genkai? Should we let Dad know about them?”

Now, that was a harder question to answer. Because unlike everything else in this mess, they knew some things about Hiei and Kurama and the others in Japan, like that Sam's visions had sent the two of them to meet Hiei, and that Yusuke had an actual job fighting evil, and that there actually was such a thing as healing magic, because Yukina had used it. Oh, and that at least three of the group were demons.

And what about that, anyway? Because according to everything the Winchesters had ever been taught, demons were evil. Plain and simple evil. Wrong. Meant to be killed on sight. Demons didn't go undercover or walk around among humans without trying to maim or kill anyone. Hell, if Yusuke was to be believed, Hiei and Kurama and Yukina were friends with humans, which was absolutely unheard of according to everything Dean had ever read, thought, or experienced in his entire life.

And then there was the fact that Yukina—who had to be a demon, since her brother was one—had healing powers. Demons weren't supposed to have any actual helpful powers. And she was so nice, too. And if that wasn't enough, she was beautiful.

It all added up to one thing: if Yusuke had been telling the truth about all this, then that meant that everything Dean thought he knew was being called into question.

He almost wished that they could all just try to kill he and Sam in their sleep. That, at least, would make sense.

“I have no idea, Sam,” Dean said, by way of answering the original question.

A soft snore was the only reply.

“…Sam?”

XXX

Even while this conversation was going on, two of its subjects were holding their own conference, outside on the Summers porch. Hiei was pacing, his steps quick and agitated, while Kurama sat on the porch swing and watched him with a mix of amusement and concern.

“Are you all right, koi?”

Hiei didn't pause in his relentless, repetitive, back-and-forth movement as he glanced at Kurama and said, “What?”

“Well, you've barely said two words in the last half-hour,” Kurama explained patiently. When Hiei simply kept pacing without a word, Kurama sighed and, on Hiei's next lap, he grabbed the small demon by the arm and pulled him down onto the swing. From there, he forcibly turned Hiei around and said, “Talk to me, Hiei. What's the matter?”

Hiei leaned his head back against the wooden slats that made up the back of the swing and sighed. “You know very well, Kurama…or you should,” he snapped.

Kurama, being one of the only people who really knew Hiei, took no offense at the tone. He simply smiled and said gently, “It's what Dean said, isn't it? About who killed his and Sam's mother?”

Hiei wanted to lie. Kurama could see that plainly. But he must have known that it was useless, because he just nodded.

“Why?”

Hiei looked up at that, fixing Kurama with an incredulous stare. “Why, what?” he asked intelligently.

“Why are you worried about it?”

“You can't be serious!”

“Well, it must be possible, since I'm being serious right now,” Kurama pointed out calmly. “Now, tell me what, exactly occurred to you while Dean was talking that you never thought of before now.”

“You know what it was, Kurama,” Hiei said sulkily. When Kurama just kept looking at him, Hiei gritted his teeth and said, “Fine, you…you psychologist.” He spat out the word as if it was meant to be the most grievous of insults, and Kurama barely managed to keep a straight face. “I think the one who killed the humans may have been my father.”

“And what makes you think this?”

“Because,” Hiei said, in a patient voice that clearly stated his desire to rip Kurama's throat out, and said that he would have done exactly that by now were it not for the fact that he was completely in love with the guy. “They were killed by a fire demon. A homicidal fire demon. For no reason.”

“Oh, and of course it's a fact that you and your father are the only fire demons in existence,” Kurama said, in tones that suggested a conversation about the weather, and not evil, murderous demons.

“Well, that's possible, isn't it?” Hiei asked, a little angrily. “I mean, I'm the only one of my kind I've ever met—”

Kurama smiled at that. “Hiei, koi, you are the only one of your kind.”

“Okay, bad example, but the point is, who's to say there aren't any other fire demons? I never even met my father.”

“Then how do you know he'd even think of doing something like that?” Kurama asked, though he was fairly certain he already knew the answer.

“Kurama, you know what I was like before we met. Everyone does. The killing and destroying…darkness like that doesn't come out of nowhere. I am Koorime [1] on my mother's side, it's true, but the Koorime don't have that kind of darkness. They're a cold people—most of them—but they don't hate the way I did. So if I didn't get it from my mother, where did it come from?”

The question was rhetorical, but Kurama answered it anyway. “Maybe from the fact that you were literally thrown off a cliff when you were less than a week old, by your own people, and grew up completely alone?”

“Not completely. I had the thieves who picked me up at the bottom.”

“Who also abandoned you, just when you could actually feel the loss.”

“Your parents didn't exactly take care of you, either!”

“Or maybe,” Kurama went on without so much as an attempt at a reply, “it came from the fact that since before you even learned to hold a sword, almost everyone you meet has wanted your head on a silver platter just because of what you are.”

“Kurama—”

“Or maybe it came from—”

“Kurama, stop trying to make excuses for me…to my face! I know how I was, okay? And frankly, I don't know that I would have been any different under different circumstances. And none of this is even the point, anyway. The point is, my own father could have been the one that killed those two people! And if—”

“So what?”

Hiei stopped mid-sentence, and was unable to keep his mouth entirely closed. “…What did you say?”

“I said `so what?'” Kurama repeated calmly. “As in, even if it was him, what does it matter?” At Hiei's dubious expression, Kurama sighed, and it was in far gentler tones that he continued. “Look, Hiei. I know you. In fact, I can say with complete confidence that I know you better than anyone. So believe me when I say that you are not a killer. You're chosen not to be. And whoever your father was—is—whatever—that will not change, because this is who you really are…this amazing person who is sitting next to me, on this porch, twenty feet from the humans he used to love to kill. You've changed…for good and always.”

“But—” Hiei said, and now his voice took on a sort of plea. “But how do you know that it's for always? It would be so easy—so easy—to just go back to Makai…back to what I know…back to where there are no rules, no laws. So easy…”

“Yes, it would be easy,” Kurama agreed. “And you'd hate it. You'd hate leaving this place. And I don't think you could leave me or the others.”

And with that, they had moved on to lighter talk.

“Well, I couldn't leave you, maybe, but I could leave them, that's for sure,” Hiei retorted, referring to the others back in Japan. “It's not like they're my friends. Besides, I'm not some human who couldn't deal with the separation.”

“The important thing is, you believe that.”

“Kurama! It's true!”

“Whatever you say, Hiei.”

“Do you want me to burn the garden when we finally get back to your place?”

“You wouldn't.”

“The important thing is, you believe that.”

“Hiei! You seriously would not!”

“Whatever you say, Kurama.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Now, Kurama, you know there's only one way to shut me up when I—mmph.”

And after that, there was silence for quite a while.

After all, Kurama had always proven rather adept at shutting Hiei up.

XXX

“So what do you make of all this, Giles?”

Giles winced at the question. He had been dreading it since their long, circular discussion began. He had tried to avoid it and give himself some time to think by standing in the corner away from the group, but alas, it wasn't to be.

So, sighing, the watcher/retired librarian stepped forward, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his shirt as he did.

“Oh, he's cleaning his glasses,” Tara said, sounding mildly alarmed.

“He's been thinking hard,” Dawn added.

“So what'd you come up with, G-man?” Xander asked.

Giles didn't even bother addressing the subject of the name. His mind was simply far too busy. “Well, the fact is, I know a great deal of…nothing. I know nothing.”

A long, shocked silence followed this assessment, and Giles fidgeted.

“Oh, my God…” Xander breathed.

“Did everyone else just hear that?” Willow asked.

“Giles is the stupid one here?” That, of course, was Anya.

“Well, this is a very confusing turn of events!” Giles said defensively. “It's not like we're just dealing with your everyday evil. I'm not sure hoe to deal with this sort of thing.”

“Yeah, I know,” Willow said thoughtfully. “I mean, we've worked with non-humans before—Spike, and Angel, and Clem…even Cordy, now, sort of. But what about Dean and Sam?”

“Demon hunters,” Xander said. “Guys who choose to hunt demons. I'm sorry, but doesn't that seem a little crazy to you?”

“After what they've been through?” Tara replied.

“Well, yeah, but people are killed all the time, and as far as I know, no one's ever gone bibbledy over it and started hunting the supernatural,” Willow said. “But I guess their father just…saw the truth, maybe. And did what he thought was right.”

“Which is rather unusual,” Giles admitted. “For anyone to even think that demons could exist, much less accept the idea and then do something about it…I think I might like to meet this man sometime. To know what drove him to throw himself into this life…and dragging his two sons into that kind of danger…”

“I feel so sorry for them,” Dawn said sadly. “To be forced into it, ya know? I mean, I guess even Buffy could have turned the whole Slayer thing down, but it's…different for them. I mean, how do you defend yourself when the term `family loyalty' is thrown around?”

“Must have helped that they were five years and six months old when it started,” Xander said. “When you're that little you listen to your parents. Period.” And now he sounded angry. “Y'know, Giles, I'd like to meet this guy, too…I'd like to strangle him for taking advantage of his own kids like that.”

“Still, I wouldn't mention that to them,” Giles said. “They don't seem to hold it against him. In fact, they seem to be more loyal to him than average sons, if anything.”

“Well, one of them, anyway,” Willow said, for some reason sounding amused. “But that Sam…from the sound of it, he's quite the rebel.”

“Maybe that was true before, but…revenge is like testosterone—a great equalizer that usually accomplishes nothing but to make oneself an idiot. And it appears to have driven him back to his family and the life he hates. I just hope he can handle his anger. Because he does have a lot of it—even if he doesn't know it—and that could be dangerous.”

“Oh, I don't think he's dangerous, exactly,” Willow protested. “In fact, he seems really nice. Quiet, but nice. And it couldn't hurt to have others on our side, you know.”

“And they are very good-looking,” Anya added. At their incredulous looks, she added, “Oh, like all of you haven't thought so at least once. Except Giles. Giles wouldn't notice.”

While everyone was busy laughing at the expense of poor Giles—who, after all, had absolutely no defense against a bunch of twenty-year-olds—the Watcher himself suddenly looked over at Buffy, who was sitting at the kitchen table with her chin propped in one hand, staring off into space.

“Are you all right, Buffy?” Giles asked with concern, and the others quieted to listen.

Buffy started slightly and turned to him. “Sorry, what?”

“You've just been very quiet,” Giles said patiently. “Are you okay?”

“Oh. Yeah, I'm fine. I was just…thinking. About Sam and his…visions.” She looked up at him. “Do you think he really does have them?”

Giles sat down in the chair next to hers. “Well, I can't really think of any other explanation. You say you had the same dream. And you know that it was a prophecy dream, yes?”

Buffy nodded reluctantly. “I'm sure it was. It was so real. But Giles, I have no idea what Sam was talking about when he mentioned that dying guy. I didn't talk to anyone in that dream. And I don't think it was just because Sam woke me up too soon.”

“What do you mean?” Giles asked.

“I'm not sure, but…I have a feeling that he plays a big part in this—bigger than we know. Maybe bigger than he knows. And…” She sighed. “And I'm worried, Giles. About…whatever is coming. We don't even know what it is, much less how to fight it! How do we even know it exists?”

“Oh, it exists. Whatever `it' is. Of that much we can be fairly certain. Kurama, Hiei, Sam, and Dean all showing up at the same time…you having another prophecy dream…Sam having the same dream…visions…none of these are mere coincidences. They're signs…all pointing to the same thing—evil.”

“Yeah, that's great and all, but can somebody shed some light on what we're going to do now?!” Anya asked impatiently. “Besides sitting around and asking impossible questions?”

“Yes, I will,” Giles snapped. He lost patience with Anya rather easily. “We're all going to go to bed now. It's almost two in the morning. We've all been up half the night and none of us are thinking very clearly. Tomorrow, Willow, you will call Angel in L.A. and you will explain the situation. If he offers to come, accept the offer and tell him to bring Cordelia. If he doesn't, tell him we need Cordelia to come, anyway. Once that is taken care of, we will begin researching. Are you quite satisfied now?”

“Yes,” Anya said cheerily. “Good plan, Giles!”

XXX

Los Angeles, California

Cordelia “Cordy” Chase wasn't exactly in the best of moods. First, she hadn't spent the night sleeping, like a normal person would have. Instead, she'd woken up time after time, drenched in sweat, after being plagued with nightmares that she couldn't remember upon awakening. Then, when her alarm rang, she managed to knock it off her nightstand and break it. Then she had discovered that she was completely out of coffee, not to mention anything remotely resembling a breakfast food.

All of this added up to one thing: a tired, hungry, crabby Cordelia.

And to make matters worse…

XXX

“Cordelia. We've got trouble.”

Cordelia sighed and dropped her purse on the counter. “Great. `Cause that's exactly what I wanted to hear first thing this morning.”

Angel smiled, and Cordelia found herself smiling back, though her voice was still sarcastically irritated as she continued. “Fine, what now? Another toilet demon?”

Angel shook his head. “Hellmouth.”

That was really all that was required for Cordelia to toss aside her mood. “What happened? Is everyone—”

“They're all fine,” Angel assured her quickly. “Things are…confusing…over there, but no one's hurt.”

Cordelia nodded, satisfied. “Where are Fred and Gunn and Wes?”

If Angel was surprised by the supposed randomness of the question, he, of course, hid it. “Fred and Gunn are out being in love, and Wes went…somewhere. And Lorne's at some bar or another, doing karaoke, in case you were wondering.”

“Oh. Okay. So tell me what's going on.”

“Well, I wasn't able to get much detail out of Willow when she called—she seemed a little scattered—but apparently there are four new people staying at Buffy's. One of them showed up at U.C. Sunnydale and met Willow and Tara and they became friends. And then the guy's boyfriend—”

“Right on.”

“—Showed up with two other guys, Sam and Dean Winchester—brothers—and—this is where things got a little scrambled—apparently, Sam and Dean hunt demons, and Kurama and Hiei, the other two, are demons. And they're all staying at Buffy's house, so she can keep an eye on them, since they know she's the Slayer and all. And then, last night, Sam, the younger brother, had a nightmare. Not so unusual, but apparently this Sam is some sort of Seer whose visions come through dreams.”

“Angel, you're making no sense.”

“I'm making as much sense as Willow did. Anyway, the nightmare Sam had last night was one of those nightmares, and the long and short of it is that there's something dark coming to California, and they need you in Sunnydale like yesterday.”

“Why me?” Cordelia asked, a little suspicious.

“I have no idea. Probably because you're a psychic. But either way, they need you there, so…”

“I'll go. Of course I'll go. But I'd really like to know what's going on.”

Angel nodded. “So would I. Which is why I'm going with you.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. I offered and she accepted in about half a second. Which kinda worries me, come to think of it. You don't mind, do you?”

Cordelia smiled. “Why would I mind? You're my friend, Angel. And if things get bad…well, you're good with bad.”

“Very true. But I think the others should stay here. We can't all stay with Buffy and someone has to hold down the fort here.”

“Right. We leaving tonight?”

“Well, I obviously can't go out right now, so yes, tonight.”

XXX

Sunnydale, California

Sam woke feeling like he hadn't gotten any sleep at all, and first thought was that he was getting sick of that feeling. But he knew that there was no way he was going back to sleep, so with a sigh he threw aside the covers and got out of bed.

Dean was still sprawled out on the floor, sound asleep, and Sam felt a twinge of envy as he threw on some clothes, then crouched and shook his brother awake.

Dean groaned and slapped halfheartedly at him, mumbling incoherently.

“Hey. Hey, wake up for a sec.”

“Wh…wha' time is it?” Dean slurred.

“Almost seven.”

“…`M gonna kill you.”

“Yeah, that's great. Listen, I'm gonna go down and see if anyone's up. Do you want me to come get you later?”

“Death. And it's gonna be painful.”

“Dean.”

“Whatever. Just go away.”

“Okay, okay, I'll be back up in a couple hours.”

Dean snored in reply.

XXX

Sam hadn't really expected anyone to be awake yet—he himself was an early riser, but he had come to realize that he was one in about a million—so he was sort of surprised to hear, upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, faint noises coming from the kitchen.

He found Tara, Willow and Giles in the kitchen. Giles was sitting t the table with a cup of coffee in one hand, reading a newspaper, and Willow and Tara were busy rummaging in the refrigerator.

“Ha! I knew there had to be some!” Tara said triumphantly just as Sam came in. She turned around and set the carton of orange juice she held on the counter, and saw Sam. “Oh, good morning!” she said brightly.

“Hi,” Sam replied.

“You're up early,” Giles commented, looking up from his paper for a moment.

“Yeah, I noticed. So are you.”

Willow shrugged. “Giles always gets up early, and I don't think Tara and I ever went to sleep—” Willow grunted a little when Tara elbowed her in the ribs. “We were, uh, tslking all night. About…stuff. Um…where's Dean?”

Sam was only too happy to ignore the implications of what Willow had just said, and he answered the question a little too quickly. “He's still asleep. I'm gonna wake him in a couple hours.”

“Want something to eat?” Tara asked.

“No, thanks. But…is there coffee left?” Sam asked, a bit reluctantly. He always felt so awkward asking for other peoples' food and drink, but he had gotten so little sleep in the months since Jessica's death that he was pretty sure coffee was the only thing that could keep him from crashing nowadays.

Tara, however, just seemed happy that he actually wanted something. “Giles took the rest of the pot, but I can make fresh. We're a very coffee-oriented bunch around here—it's all the night hours. Did you sleep okay?” she asked as se went over and started up the coffee maker. I mean, after…uh…”

“After I had a total freak-out and woke up the entire house? I slept fine,” Sam said, smiling to lighten his words. “I'm sorry about that, by the way.”

“Yeah, you said so last night. Don't worry about it. It was pretty important info you gave us.”

As if on cue, Giles suddenly folded his newspaper and laid it down on the table. “Speaking of which, Willow, you called Angel, didn't you?”

“Got off the phone about fifteen minutes ago. They're driving out tonight.”

“Who's Angel?” Sam asked, sitting down across from Giles.

“He's an…associate…of ours. Lives in L.A.,” Willow answered.

“Oh. So that's why…”

“We all spazzed last night, yeah. And anyway, we really need him and his—well, his boss, I guess you could say, though it's kinda impossible to tell—here. So we called `em, and they're coming in tonight.”

Sam took the cup Tara handed him and drank gratefully, feeling the caffeine begin to wake him almost immediately. “And if you don't mind my asking, why exactly did you ask them to come here?”

“Because Cordelia—that's the other one who's coming—has visions like you do.”

Willow said it casually, without even turning from the cereal she was pouring for herself, as if this news wouldn't even remotely affect anyone, but Sam's eyes nearly popped out of his head and he suddenly felt like he was about to fall out of his chair. He swallowed a huge swig of coffee, nearly burning his throat black, and began to hack up a lung.

“WHAT?!”

XXX

“So…explain all this to me one more time.”

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. “I think she made things as clear as possible the last time, Dean.”

“Maybe in your world, but in reality I need one hell of a reason to work with a vampire. Especially since I still don't believe they exist,” Dean said stubbornly.

Sam sighed heavily and said to the room at large, “God, what an obstinate son of a—”

“You really don't want to finish that sentence, Sammy. I can still beat you black and blue without breaking a sweat.”

So, rather than continue trying to reason with his brother—a futile effort by all accounts—Sam turned instead to Buffy, Dawn, Giles, Anya, Xander, Tara and Willow, all of whom were now packed into the kitchen. The only ones missing were Hiei and Kurama, who had been nowhere in sight at all this morning—which was undoubtedly contributing to Dean's black mood. The elder Winchester reacted to nerves this way—and the ominous absence of two potential enemies was extremely unnerving, to be sure.

But even so, that was really no reason to act like such a mule.

“I'm sorry about him,” Sam said to the group. He was trying to show no outward signs of the unsettled feeling in his stomach, which had, admittedly, been there since he himself had first heard the things his brother was still demanding answers to.

“Don't worry about it,” Giles replied. “Dean, we understand that you're worried about this, but so far we've given you no reason not to trust us. Now, as we said before, Angel is a vampire, but he is not evil. He has a soul, and so he cares, and remains on our side. He also has strength of body and of mind, making him invaluable to us, especially since we know nothing here. So he is coming and you can either work with him and keep your comments to yourself or you can leave. But I doubt your brother will want to go with you, should you choose the latter.”

By the time he finished speaking, his voice was rather wintry, Dean appeared to have shrunk, and Sam was having some difficulty holding his laughter in. Not that much difficulty, though, because despite his age and his English-ness, this guy Giles was scary, and no denying it. And there was no doubt that he meant what he said.

Dean still looked stormy for a moment, but then his face cleared. “Y'know, you sounded uncomfortably like my dad just now.”

“Well, that's one way to get through to him,” Sam said. Probably the only way…

“Shut up, Sam!” Dean snapped. “Okay, fine, you win. Now, about this Cordelia chick…”

“I swear to God, Dean, if you ask what she looks like…”

“Well, that's important!”

“To you, maybe! But we're not here to get you a hookup, and I—”

“Oh, relax, Samantha,” Dean snapped. “I wasn't going to ask what she looks like, anyway.”

“…Oh.”

“Yeah. `Oh.' What I was going to ask was what you think she could do to help.”

Buffy fielded that one. “Well, first of all, she has visions, too. So she could very well have seen what we saw, Sam. And secondly—well…” She stopped, and looked as if she was trying to figure out how to put her next thought into words.

“You think it would help if I could talk to someone like me,” Sam supplied.

“Exactly.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. Are you people insinuating that he can't just talk to, oh, I dunno, his brother?” Dean cut in.

“Oh, of course not, Dean,” Tara said quickly. “That's what family's for, after all. But the fact is, no one can really understand how Sam feels unless they've been there. And we just think it might…help. That's all, okay?”

“Thank you,” Sam said, before Dean could reply.

Tara smiled at him, and for some reason Dean looked annoyed. “Whatever. So did you four—” He looked from Tara, to Willow, to Giles, and finally to Sam. “—Decide what to do next?”

Sam smiled. “Oh, we get to do your favorite part now, Dean.”

Dean groaned. “Oh, no…”

XXX

“We really should get back, love.”

Hiei gave a theatrical groan. “But I don't want to!”

Kurama laughed musically and stepped sideways so that he could wrap his arms around Hiei from behind. “You make it seem as if I'm taking you to be tortured. They're not that bad, Hiei.”

Hiei leaned back against his lover and sighed. “I'm not saying they are. But there are so many of them. It's so crowded at that house. You know I can't stand crowds. And besides, you're so shy that more of this—” He was, of course, referring to their current positioning. “—Is out of the question once we're around people again.”

Kurama smiled and leaned over to kiss the little demon. “Oh, I do love you, Hiei.”

“Well, yeah. Why wouldn't you?”

“You know, you're getting more like Yusuke every day.”

“Oh, don't tell me that, fox.”

Kurama chuckled, but then he came back to the subject as a dog might return to a very juicy bone. “We need to get back, Hiei.”

“Why?”

“Because we've been circling this town for hours. They'll all be up by now, and wondering where we are. They'll be suspicious.”

“Oh, who cares what they think? They'll never really trust us, anyway,” Hiei said, all humor now gone from his voice, because in truth, though he could pretend not to care what anyone thought, it irked him that no matter what he did, it was likely that no one would ever look past his blood.

If Kurama heard the concealed sadness, he overlooked it. “That isn't true. We could win them over. But you're right that they don't trust us right now, and why should they? We haven't done anything for them yet. But pulling a Houdini—”

“A what?”

“Houdini was a magician famous for his disappearing acts. And us pulling a Houdini and dropping out of sight when their very intentions are to keep us in sight---it won't help. And I know you hate being around them, but don't worry, I'm sure we can escape later.”

Hiei sighed. “Fine, let's go. But you'll pay later.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Pervert.”

“Delinquent.”

“You know it.”

Their banter continued for the entire ten minutes it took them to walk back to the Summers home—despite the fact that they'd been out and about before dawn, they hadn't actually ended up far from the house. But the moment they entered through the back door—which was where everyone had been told to go for the duration of their stay—the humor faded.

“Where've you been?” Dean demanded the moment they stepped into the kitchen.

Something in his tone made Kurama look at him quickly, and he saw that Dean looked…distinctly unhappy.

Hmm…wonder what caused that?

“None of your business,” Hiei snapped. Kurama knew with one glance that Hiei, too, had noticed the elder Winchester's mood, and was determined to match him glare for glare, sarcastic comment for sarcastic comment.

“Um, we were just walking,” Kurama explained, shooting Hiei a warning look.

“Well, didn't anyone ever tell you that humans don't just wander off without telling their hosts?”

Kurama bristled at the implied insult, but he remained calm as he went over to pour himself some coffee—after a nod from Buffy, of course. “Why so charming this morning?” he asked as he sipped, making his voice light and free of the indignation he was feeling.

“Why the hell do you care?”

“Dean, for the love of—” Sam began to say. Then he cut himself off and turned to Kurama. “Ignore him,” he said calmly, and Kurama felt his estimation of the young man suddenly go up. “He's just crabby because we're about to start on his least favorite thing in the world.”

XXX

“Research. I hate research.”

Sam smiled. “Oh, take heart, brother mine.”

Dean scowled at that. “Brother mine?! You've been reading Mercedes Lackey again!”

“Well…yeah.”

“Well if you're gonna let that crazy chick pollute your mind, I can't stop you, but I'm begging you, never call me that again.”

Sam just laughed and ran to catch up with the rest of the rather large group heading down the sidewalk ahead of them. Dean picked up the pace, too, and tried to conceal his irritation.

He knew it was wrong of him to be so annoyed at Sam's sudden cheer. In fact, it was nothing short of horrible. Sam had been far too unhappy, for far too long, and the fact that he was smiling and joking now certainly should have made Dean glad. And he was, really. He was glad that Sam had finally found someone like himself. But along with that happiness was a feeling of inferiority that Dean was totally unaccustomed to…

“Here we are,” Willow sang.

Dean shook himself out of his preoccupation and saw that they were standing in front of an entirely inconspicuous little shop in the middle of a strip of inconspicuous little shops. The sign over the door read The Magic Box, and Dean smirked. A magic shop. Ha.

“Welcome to The Magic Box, owned by Watcher Rupert Giles, house of the widest selection of occult books on the West Coast, and unofficial Scooby Gang Headquarters,” Willow chirped, opening the door with a flourish.

Once inside, Dean had to admit that the place was pretty cool. It wasn't very large, but it was absolutely crammed with undeniably weird stuff. Glass jars lined some of the shelves, all labeled in neat, small handwriting. Where there weren't jars, there were small, similarly labeled books, packages, and a few books. The whole place smelled of a combination of wood, paper, and…something all together unidentifiable, but it was reminiscent of some kind of spice. Not a bad scent, actually.

Then Dean noticed the weapons, Sam saw the ladder leading up to an entire wall lined floor to ceiling with books, and the brothers were immediately headed in opposite directions.

All thoughts of research vanished from Dean's mind as he approached the glass weapon cases that, pushed together, served the double purpose of a counter. He began to walk slowly along the length of the counter, staring reverently at the weapons.

They were amazing. Beautiful craftsmanship, perfectly sized, all extremely well-made and not one speck of dust on any of them. They were obviously well-cared for, and probably extremely valuable. Axes, machetes, crossbows, swords, daggers, knives, even couple Ninja stars.

Well, one thing was certain, anyway. Every single thing in these cases, down to that one little black-and-silver switchblade, was way beyond Winchester budget.

Then Dean noticed a sign propped up in one of the cases. Not For Sale—Display Only.

Or…any price range, apparently.

“Come on, Dean, the sooner we get started the sooner you can be done.”

Dean sighed sadly, and turned away from the weapons…toward the books.

This sucks.

XXX

Dean repeated the phrase in his head about thirty times in the next hour, as he pored over volumes of occult books. They were all well-kept up, like the weapons, but Dean doubted that there was anything in this place that was originally published after 1066. They were all extremely long and complicated, with tiny words printed on yellowing paper and sketched pictures only—no photos. And it didn't help that some passages were written entirely in foreign languages. The Latin Dean could read easily enough, being fluent in the language, but some pages were written in dialects that didn't even exist anymore.

Dean wished for the thousandth time that he could just use Sam's laptop, but Sam had left it in his bag back at the house. And the thing was useless, anyway—Sam had spent their time in Japan and all this morning looking for anything that could have been any help at all, and come up with nothing.

This really sucked, and Dean didn't care how many times he said it.

XXX

Sam was one happy repressed demon-hunter. There were books everywhere. And they were awesome books, too—old and thick and just fascinating.

And the sheer amount of information in them—it was more than even John Winchester had ever managed to scrounge up. Sam was entirely convinced that he would be happy just sitting here looking stuff up forever, and forgetting everything else.

Sam's thoughts turned suddenly to the information he'd received that morning. A psychic…someone like me…It seemed unbelievable. He didn't know why he'd always assumed that he was the only one, but he had. It didn't seem to matter now, though—all that mattered was that within the day, Sam would be talking with someone who understood. Someone who knew how it felt to see the future, to see pain and death, to feel the overwhelming fear that came from not knowing why the visions came. Someone who knew what it was like to be cursed.

Giles made an interested sound, and Sam fell back to earth with a thump. “Did you find something?”

Giles looked up from the book he was reading and said, “Oh…well, I'm not sure. It may not be anything pertaining to our current situation—”

“Geez, Giles, dumb it down for us simpletons,” Xander said, smiling.

“—But I may very well have found the demon responsible for killing you mother and Jessica.”

Dean dropped his book immediately and in two seconds he was standing at Giles' side, trying to read over his shoulder. A disappointed look immediately crossed his face. “It's all foreign.”

“Yes. It's Gaelic.”

“And you know Gaelic?” Sam asked, going to join them at the table in the back left corner of the room. Hiei, Kurama, Willow, Tara, Anya, Xander, Dawn and Buffy all stayed where they were, positioned at various spots through the shop, but they were all watching curiously.

“Yes, I'm quite fluent,” Giles replied. “It was part of the training when I became a Watcher.”

“Well, what's it say?” Dean demanded impatiently.

In answer, Giles pointed at the top of the page. “The passage is titled `He Who the Gods Despise.'”

“Huh. Cheery.”

“Very much. The odd thing is, it reads as a kind of prophecy, telling of a woman whose race lives alone on an island of ice in the sky. The people of this land reproduce asexually, and under no circumstances do they interact with males. But the woman in this story broke all of the laws, and left the island one night for no other reason than to see what the rest of the world was like. And while gone, she met a man.”

“Uh-oh,” Tara said.

“That's right. She went with him that night, and was the first of her race to lie with one of the taboo men. Now the story skips ahead to tell of the birth of two children, a girl and…a boy. The girl was exactly as she was supposed to be—an ice maiden, female, with all of the characteristics of the race.

“The boy, however, was…different. He was born of fire and ice, with two opposite elements warring inside him. He wasn't beautiful, either, as all ice children were. In fact, from what this says, his visage was both ugly and terrifying to behold. And he was male…taboo.

“So they quite literally threw him away. They tossed him over the edge of the island in the sky, and he fell a mile to the mainland. And the demon survived, and grew up into a thing of evil, and was forever known only as The Forbidden Child.”

CRASH.

XXX

“Are you sure you're all right, love?” Kurama asked with quiet concern. He and Hiei were back to sitting in front of the second-level bookcases, things finally having died down. Kurama had an open book in his lap, but his attention was focused on his partner for the moment.

Hiei, who was leaning on Kurama's shoulder and ignoring the books, sighed and said, “I told you I'm fine, fox. It wasn't that high. I've fallen a mile before, remember?”

“Yes, but you did land on your head this time,” Kurama pointed out.

Hiei shrugged. “Didn't hurt that bad. I just hope they don't figure out why I fell,” he added, his voice lowered a few notches until only Kurama could hear.

“Oh, I think you're safe enough,” Kurama chuckled. “I'm pretty sure they bought our `Hiei's a klutz sometimes' act. But you may have to fall down more often to lend credit to the story.”

“You're teasing me.”

“It's possible. And I foresee much similar teasing in the future.”

“Die.”

“Oh, you love me.”

“And you bug me. Now read.”

XXX

“Would you stop laughing?”

“I can't!” Dean gasped between bursts of laughter. “It's too funny!”

“It wasn't!” Sam protested, though his mouth kept twitching out of his control. “He could have really gotten hurt…”

Dean just laughed harder. “Oh, God, that was good.”

“He fell on his head, Dean!”

“Stop, stop. You're just making it funnier!”

“You're cruel, Dean.”

Dean just kept laughing.

XXX

It was another two hours before anything else of interest happened. During that time, half the books on the shelves were set aside as useless, Dean fell into a fit of laughter four different times, Willow fell asleep using the giant book she was reading as a pillow, Kurama was called over by Giles to translate several passages written in the Makai language, five or six customers came to the door of the shop and wandered away, disappointed, upon seeing the “closed” sign on the door, and patience was wearing thin.

It was while Xander was out picking up pizzas for lunch—something all of them had actually agreed upon—that someone actually spoke up. It was Kurama, and for some reason he sounded a little uneasy. “Sam, Dean?”

“Huh?” Sam asked, dragging himself out of a near-stupor and focusing bleary eyes on Kurama.

“What was your mother's maiden name?”

Sam just continued to watch him, bemused, and it was Dean who actually answered. “McCall. Mary McCall.”

“And her mother…was she also named Mary?”

“Yeah, I think so. Why?”

“Well, because…this book mentions your grandmother. And her grandmother, and her grandmother, and so on, going back nearly five hundred years.”

“What? What's it say?” Dean asked, sounding bewildered.

“Well, it says that…um…they were also Seers. All of them.”

- - - - - - - - - -

AN: I am so sorry for the long wait! Really! But hey, look at the size of the chapter and…um…don't kill me! It was only two weeks, after all. And I know that none of you out there probably care overmuch about the wait between chapters, anyway, so it's probably just my own guilt talking here, but whatever.

Also, just to forewarn you: I'm not quite sure where the next chapter is going, so be prepared for another wait. But don't worry, I love this story and you can expect the next update in no more that two weeks, probably less.

Please review!!!

- - - - - - - - - - -

“A house without books is like a room without windows.” -Unknown

“We could learn a lot from crayons. Some are sharp, some are pretty, some are dull, some have weird names, and all are different colors. …but they all exist very nicely in the same box.” -Unknown