abraxaslogs | Hᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜsᴀɴᴅ ᴍɪʟᴇs ᴀᴡᴀʏ ( ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ )

Jo's answer is an unhelpful shrug, whiskey glass still in one hand as he raises it aloft.

"Do I look like I know jack about squat? I just work here."

Followed by one particularly hefty drink.

Family meeting is a big deal. Family meeting called by Dean, who's usually content to let problems go on until eternity or apocalypse before he opens the table for discussion of them, are a big deal.

The First Blade hits the table, and Cas abruptly stands, chair screeching across the library floor.

"Dean."

Castiel's eyes root into him, narrowing as if trying to read intentions written in tiny script around his irises. The blade changes Dean, twists him, he's had a need for it like an addict. He can't soon forget the urge towards slaughter that overcomes Dean with that blade in his hand, or the coldness when he'd told Sam 'this is a dictatorship'. That thing is an entire tankard of gas on the fire.

"You're not keeping it with you, right?"

Right, Dean? Because we know what a terrible combination the Mark on you, with the First Blade, becomes? Because we are here among many friends who can help you deal with the effects of the mark, and there is not all powerful foe we need to fight, so there's no fucking reason you need a primeval tool of abject evil tucked under your pillow - r i g h t ?

Nothing good comes from that blade. Nothing.

He swallows his drink. Takes his time. Answers on the cusp of a slow exhale into the glass, which he doesn't fully lower from his lips — yep, it's gonna be one of those conversations, the kind he needs a few of these slugged rapid-fire in order to get through.

"Funny story," he says into the cup, his voice reverberating a little. "I don't really have much of a choice about that. It just... shows up on its own."

Annnnd another big drink down the hatch.

Yep. Spontaneous magic summoning in the heat of the moment. Geralt got to see it first-hand. So, that's fun.

Sam very much feels the weight of tension building and while he's long since taken a seat, he's pretty sure any of them could kick the legs of the chair right out from beneath him and his body would still maintain that tight fist of consternation to keep him seated. He glances between the others, expression as passive as he can muster.

"At least this way we know where it is," he points out, although he's not entirely certain it would get very far without finding its way back to his brother.

He focuses on Dean, gesturing. "You knew to bring us together, so let's not rule out your usefulness yet," he says with only a slim amount of perturbance. "Jo could be on to something about the timing. If we can pin that down, it might give us a few clues. And the escalation—" Sam pinches his lips briefly, eyes finding somewhere else to be, particularly elsewhere from Geralt. "That's worth tracking, too, if there's a chance it correlates to current events or even Abraxas-based lore. Are we even sure nothing like this appears here?"

Edited (grammar) 2023-01-04 02:07 (UTC)

Castiel's jaw works, teeth grinding. Of any human Castiel's known, Dean Winchester has an ironclad willpower, but even that has pales in the comparison to the sway the first blade holds. It's all-consuming, absolute. A steady, unstoppable erosion of the soul.

"And when it does appear," He asks, voice a distant thing. "What happens?"

The unspoken question being do you drop it, or do you use it? Their social circle's expanded here, but even so, it'd be difficult to have someone nearby to confiscate the blade any time it popped up. Few things send a chill up Castiel's spine, but the prospect of watching his best friend slowly drown in the Mark's corruption makes not-exactly-his skin crawl. He can't begin to imagine what's going on in Sam's mind.

"If it's combat, or danger, or rage..." He knows this suggestion won't go over well, but Cas still sees it as the easiest way to ensure they don't hit that escalation. "Perhaps it's best you avoid battlefields and conflict for the time being. Until we can... figure this out."

Edited 2023-01-04 02:24 (UTC)

He's more or less on board with what Sam's saying. Nodding absently along, right up until Cas cuts in with avoid battlefields and conflict.

He lowers his glass to shoot the angel an are you out of your mind look.

"You know what I do for a living, right? I'm not sitting it out on the bench, coach. Screw that." He'd lose his mind. Go absolutely stir-crazy, not to mention broke right at the cusp of them trying to move into a place of their own. It's off the table, thanks.

Geralt agreed to attend because Dean asked him. That is the sole reason. He doesn't know anything Dean cannot relay to the others, or that the others can't relay to Dean. His knowledge of the entire myth surrounding the curse is secondhand at best. Missing large pockets of information.

Or. At least, that was the case, before Lucifer pulled him aside.

He arrives late—a short minute or so before Sam's eyes deliberately avoid him. His entrance is not discreet, but nor does he announce himself: just pushes open the door, steps inside, leans back against the wall behind the others. Whether anyone remarks on his punctuality or not, Geralt will keep quiet.

Up until in the midst of the discussion, between the briefest moment of silence, where he says—with all of the fanfare that might come with revealing he bought a loaf of bread for dinner—

"I spoke with Lucifer."

Well, that's one way to earn a spit take. Damn near chokes on his whiskey after that. He has to sit up straight and slowly wipe his mouth off with his hand while his brain does a quick replay.

"I'm sorry, what?" Come on, man. "What's it gonna take to get you to stay away from that son of a bitch? Do you want money? My firstborn child? Seriously, what?"

He's gonna kill you for real sometime. One of these visits ain't gonna end well, and that's one I told you so he's not gonna enjoy.

A beat later the impulse outburst fizzles, and he's back on track enough that it occurs to him to ask, "More importantly, why?"

Edited 2023-01-05 05:36 (UTC)

At least this outburst feels more in line with Dean. It's no surprise he's trying to tell even his powerful ally, one with years of experience — a veteran of his own wars — to be careful handling himself. Some things never change (and for that, Sam can be a little thankful).

"I think it's pretty clear why, not that it matters," Sam says. He doesn't disagree with his brother's concerns, but having met both Lucifer and Geralt, he can say easily that he doesn't expect Geralt to align himself with Lucifer after having heard him defend his proximity to Dean so plainly. Unless, as it is in this case, they both of them have a common goal.

"What did he have to say?" Holding up a hand to halt any potential argument, he adds, "—with a grain of salt," because we all know about the trust issues in the room.

So much in line that Geralt just looks at Dean to wait it out. He does understand. Lucifer did, technically, put an arm through his chest, and he's mostly given up on convincing Dean not to be. Protective. Of him.

That's a brick wall that'll never crumble.

But Geralt's not especially good at doing what people would prefer he do, either.

His gaze shifts briefly to Sam, then back to Dean.

"He asked." Twice, in fact. Once, implicitly, on the ship, which Geralt chose not to accept. This time, he did. "Gave me a truncated lesson in history, then proposed a method to control the mark. I said no. Told him he can help find a way to remove it or fuck off. He agreed. Take that as you will."

It's Lucifer. He isn't suggesting they wait on the devil to come through. It may never happen. Still. Lucifer's reasons for approaching are worth noting.

His older, infamous brother’s name raises hairs on the back of Castiel’s neck, a response that will likely never diminish. Too many horrors witnessed, and an epic holy war tends to leave a mark.

“Nothing Lucifer tells us can be taken at face value.” He steps closer to Geralt, speaking mildly, more informative than suspicious - the Witcher doesn’t have as much experience with the devil as they do. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Geralt to have keen insight for deception, but Lucifer’s talent for manipulation is unparalleled.

“He has nothing but resentment for Dean, and he never offers help without ulterior motive or scheming. We won’t know the cost of his aid until it’s too late.” And it’s generally always catastrophic. His brother holds to a grudge like lifeblood, that should go without saying considering - well, everything. Dean and Sam put him back into the Cage - there’s no reality where Cas would believe he isn’t hellbent on revenge.

“A solution from Lucifer may be just as likely to kill Dean than to heal him.”

The animosity and tension making an awkward air between Sam and Geralt is strange, disconcerting, though not the chief concern here. Even still, he frowns (not that it changes much in Castiel’s default expression), and finds Sam’s eyes with a questioning tilt. The angel settles into a comfortable lean near Geralt against the wall, somewhat pointedly, a trusting proximity. Geralt’s been a good one here, from the very start when Dean needed meditation help and Cas was bleeding out in the street. He understands the wariness, not having witnessed their time here, but Geralt’s a friend.

Edited 2023-01-06 17:37 (UTC)

Watching Castiel posts up near Geralt, Sam meets the angel's stare with nary a blink. Message received, for what it's worth.

He's certainly has quite a lot to say about Lucifer and his involvement but here he keeps his mouth suspiciously shut, a tight line aimed at nothing and no one. He debates his take — certain to be unpopular — and chooses not to share his piece; while he's the first person to admit Lucifer isn't to be trusted, he's still a snake looking to keep his head. (Perhaps it's more worth noting that with nowhere to run, they should all be so wary if nothing's to be done.)

Somehow, Geralt doesn't expect Castiel to send a message, however subtle. He glances at the angel, an unreadable something to his expression before he returns to the topic.

"Sure," is the equally mild answer. They'll cross or burn that bridge should it arise. He promised Lucifer nothing, granted him no information. If Lucifer finds something, they can use it, discard it, investigate it. Doesn't matter. Ultimately, in Geralt's eyes, that is Dean's decision. Dean, who Geralt is well aware does not consider his death a nonviable solution. Nor does Geralt.

Which is neither here nor there at the moment. Castiel is right to question why. Lucifer has got a motive. A plain one. Coincidentally—unbeknownst to Geralt—it's the same view Sam's holding back.

So. Sure. He understands Castiel's point. Lucifer can't give two shits about preserving Dean's life; that's no secret. But.

"But," he continues, "if you're suggesting that's his primary purpose, I'm not so certain. He's afraid. Of the mark, the blade. He believes it renders the bearer immortal."

How much of a revelation this is, Geralt can't say. The story of Cain clearly references that harm can't be wrought unto whoever has the mark without consequence; he assumes everyone in this room must've considered the possibility, however distant. Writings and prophetic literature from centuries ago is one thing, though. Full immortality is another. It doesn't defy what's written, and Alucard confirmed immortality is a common interpretation—but where the original text leaves potential room for death (say, old age or falling off a fucking cliff), Lucifer's statement does not.

Edited 2023-01-07 05:41 (UTC)

Jo doesn't really care about this interchange of charged glances across the other three men at the table. If anything, she regards it cooly because push-to-shove, she'd come down on Sam's side. Not Dean's, or apparently, Cas'. Without much struggle to it, probably. There's a low burning envy in the clarity of Sam's clear-yet-unspoken opinion. The clarity she'd had when she first walked into her bar in the Horizon.

A clarity that makes it feel like she's let the last six months—the previous two, especially since the information about The Mark came out—erode some part of her too much already. Like this coordinated middle, for even just this is much more than should be acceptable.

Immortality seemed a lot more like timeline telephone biblical hyperbole. If all you had to do was have the mark and kill people with it and the blade, there would have been a world of evil out there chomping at the bit for those circumstances forever and ever, amen.

"So." A punctuated note. "He cares because he's afraid Dean will spend this 'potential eternity' trying to kill him?" There's a sharply dismissive edge to it.

Jo still remembers him standing in the bar, goading her on a roulette wheel of insulting topics she continued to smack down while the building flickered between whole and burned down. She has not time for that dick on her own merits and none at all for the figure of him she's been reading about in the stack of books hidden in her bedroom.

There's a clean line of deception, destruction, and dishonesty.

"I don't see how we could actually take anything Lucifer says with the slightest grain of truth. Whatever he says, whatever smallest truth might be in it, he'll warp it to get whatever he wants out of it, and likely whatever extra havoc can be exploited at each step along the way."

One of Sam's least favorite topics here, but he's finding every moment that passes scratches an urge within him, like fingernails inside his skull scraping to get the words out. He shifts uncomfortably, feeling suddenly too large for chairs that once felt perfectly accommodating. He slouches some, finds it doesn't help, but doesn't readjust.

"New world, new set of rules. We've known Lucifer to run scared for less."

Perhaps more notable to Sam is that Lucifer would back down to Geralt. Looking at the man, appreciating his attitude that says nothing is surprising or new, Sam doubts Lucifer's concern over Geralt and yet here they are; either Geralt's more dangerous than suggested or Lucifer's more impotent than he'd like. Maybe both. Regardless, the picture painted between the two of them — a conversation Sam wishes very much to have been a fly on the wall to see — doesn't bode particularly well for what he already knows to be a harrowing situation.

Sam's attention is on Geralt once more. "You declined Lucifer's offer, fine; I'm sure it's the right choice. But what was the method of control he suggested?"

He believes it renders the bearer immortal.

Dean's silence is loud. It radiates off him, this possibility, the implications behind it. He spends a few seconds in stillness, the knuckle of one hand pressing against his lips as he contemplates it.

If Lucifer's right, if he can't die... if the Mark consistently gets stronger, steadily corrupts, makes him worse, and he can't even take himself out of the equation like he'd been planning?

Yeah, that's not a good eventuality. That's a real worst case scenario. Something he's going to have to address sooner rather than later. His eyes flicker from Jo to Cas, from Cas to Sam, and then finally they land and linger on Geralt.

They talked about it once in passing. After this, it's time for a more formal discussion — but somewhere away from the other participants in this conversation, because he imagines it'd go over like a lead friggin balloon.

Eventually, finally, he reels himself back into the present — murmuring softly after Jo's dismissive speculated theory, "Well, at least he's right about one thing."

He would spend his immortality hunting that son of a bitch down. That would be priority numero uno if he ever embraced going off the rails. Either Lucifer would find a way to end him thus solving the problem, or he'd kill Lucifer, which wouldn't really solve anything, but it sure would feel good.

Color him equally curious about Sam's question, though.
What method of control?

Like Castiel, Jo receives a noncommittal half-glance before it returns to Dean. Gauging. He has the knowledge he has. Past that—no clear path exists. He can't blame anyone for their deep mistrust—he would no sooner lend credence to Voleth Meir—and Geralt's hardly about to defend Lucifer. Who both tried to kill Dean and actually killed him.

Then whined at him about some bullshit. Fucked with his wolf. (The list is long.)

But it'd be remiss not to lay out what he's learned. The rest of them can decide or argue amongst themselves what they will or will not believe; it's Dean whose thoughts Geralt grants the most weight, Dean the one who faces becoming something he did not ask to be. Who is responsible for what happens next by his hand. The man deserves to know all there is to know. At least while his mind remains his own.

Before he can continue, the topic shifts. Geralt's gaze is sharp, though it isn't meant for Sam. If there's a point Lucifer crossed from irritating him to pissing him off in that conversation, it would be then.

"It was not an offer." It was a suggestion. "And I will not entertain it."

Insulting at best, demeaning at worst. Still, he looks at Dean—a silent question. Frankly, there's no purpose in giving voice to the notion, being what it is, but he does think Dean has the right to want to hear it.

Does he want to hear it? Probably not. Will he actually follow through with whatever it is? Even more unlikely.

But he probably should, just in case.

It isn't reluctance in his tone, but some fatigued, faintly annoyed distant cousin to it. A flat, unenthusiastic, "What did he say?"

Definitely the sound of a man prepared to immediately disregard whatever the answer is.

Have an equally unenthusiastic sigh. For the first time, he moves forward, palms planted on the table.

"He believes I can leash you to me." Geralt's distaste over the thought is tangible, but underneath it is more, something almost protective when his eyes linger on Dean. "Like a feral hunting hound, pointed towards targets I would consider acceptable, to tame the effects of the curse."

Unspoken, obviously, is that he would not point Dean at Lucifer, though the fact that Lucifer never addressed it is something Geralt has silently noted. Isn't certain what to make of it yet.

Either way, Geralt's choice of I rather than we is deliberate; Lucifer clearly meant he and he alone. The reasons for that, Lucifer did not make a secret. Doesn't matter, either. It isn't a solution, even if he were to want to do it, even if they were to remove Dean or a pile of corpses from the equation. A curse cannot be tamed. Not forever. That's the first mistake anyone ever makes when faced with one.

Edited 2023-01-10 19:41 (UTC)

Cas stiffens next to Geralt, an absolutely fucking not, over my dead energy wave caught in his throat, but Geralt was right in that it's Dean's call, and Dean's alone.

The fidgeting and anxious darting of eyes between Dean and Geralt doesn't do well to hide it, the angel looking like he's ready to crawl out of not-his skin and wave a giant STOP sign between the whole assembled party.

With great effort, he remains silent. Just being the squirmiest angel in existence and staring lasers at Dean.

The face Dean pulls can only be categorized as incredulous disgust. Like a feral hunting hound; the concept that he's an attack dog.

(The problem is that it isn't very far fetched, no pun intended.)

He can practically feel Cas vibrating out of his skin the instant the words are out of Geralt's mouth.

"Relax," comes the firm order lobbed in Castiel's direction, equal parts dismissive and reassuring. "Leashes aren't really my thing. I'm more of a cuffs and blindfolds guy."

No he isn't, but defusing the tension with a little irreverent bullshit is the Dean Winchester way.

And then to Geralt, a mild and completely unnecessary, "No offense. I'm sure you're great with those and all, but I'll leave that to Jaskier."

Sam places his face in his palm. That's right, an actual facepalm. Please, go on.

About what he expected from Dean: plain revulsion, an immediate no. Geralt feels the same; nothing more needs to be added. An insult more than a solution, as he said.

A look greets that remark from Dean. Then he goes on. There's further to cover. Geralt already hasn't the patience for these round-table talks. Four voices chiming in is four too many.

"Supposedly, the mark was created to contain what Lucifer refers to as the Darkness. It belonged to him before he passed it onto Cain. Claims it's holding a cage shut." The Darkness's cage? He assumes. Fuck if he knows. Geralt absorbed a lot of shit in the space of minutes. He doesn't even come from these people's damn sphere. "By his time, the mark was removed, but doing so set the entity loose." A separate problem, if true. "What he does not know is how you came to have the mark again here. Kept hounding me about it."

Geralt has his suspicions, but Lucifer will not be the one he tells. Though he suspects, given time, Lucifer might come to a similar conclusion on his own. He glances at the knife on the table, then back at Dean.

"When you called on that, I could feel it. The magic." His medallion, he can sense it. It's not unlike when Julie summons her serpent or Jaskier grows some berries. "That mark came through the Singularity. Manifested alongside your memories. I'm sure of it. You must be summoning your blade through its magic, too."

Edited 2023-01-10 22:40 (UTC)

It's for the best Geralt plows ahead instead of waiting for the peanut gallery to prompt him for actually useful information. It's the only way to really accomplish a debriefing around these parts. Exposition dumps.

The Darkness puts a furrow in his brow. Set the entity loose deepens it.

What the hell does that even mean? What the hell is the darkness? Jack didn't mention any of that in their admittedly brief, shell-shocked chat in the wagon, or in passing since then.

But it does seem like something worth mentioning.

"That kid that's been hanging around. Jack. We, um-" A pause. He chews his cheek. "Apparently we're raising him, a couple years down the road from the last thing I remember, I don't know, but he uh. He says by the time we pick him up, this thing's gone."

A flex of his forearm, an absent glance at the mark.

"I'm still alive and kicking, and he doesn't remember ever seeing me with the mark. How that stacks up against Singularity magic, or- timelines, or whatever, I don't know, but... Between him and whatever crap Lucifer's spewing, I think that means it's possible, right? That we figure something out, somehow. This thing comes off, and we deal with whatever the darkness is by then, so how bad could it be?"

It's not a fact that's escaped Jo. It's a number that's been sitting in her head since she met Jack before anyone else in this room found him here, too. When it was a jarring—if painfully gut-relieving, knife in the stomach, the air to breathe when you never knew you'd been drowning, relief—that all three of the others in this room would make it to—

"A couple? Try at least—what?—half a decade up to 2020?"

—something that no hunter, except the Winchesters apparently, could have promised to them. Not the not-knowing if it would be the next hunt. Or a year from now. Or two, three, five. It's over a decade from when she died. They're safe for over a decade more from now (to her).

That's not the same, and Jo knows it even as she thinks it.

They're alive. They survive.
That's not the same as safe.

(Hunters are never safe;
it's one of the things they give up.

And it's one of the things the Winchesters have never been beyond that.
If there were even a sliver beyond that truth, her mother wouldn't have...)

Still, it sits with the echo in her head, make it later. Her last words, half joke, and half demand, to him before she died. It's a good deal of later, no matter how complicated the feelings accompanying the mess that wants to push up, weave through, and wrap around it. The ones she unceremoniously shoves back for later, much later, expression mostly unchanged even as it turns appealing. Moving forward to set her arms on the table and lean in toward his direction, only looking at Dean.

"Which means there is an answer. Somewhere. There's something that can be done. To deal with The Mark, the Blade, and whatever the hell this Darkness is. If Jack doesn't know about any of them, and he's been with all of you a good while, then they have to be fixed and behind you somehow at that point. Something can cure it. We just have to find it, or find someway to keep it in check until whenever you do out there."

Edited 2023-01-14 20:01 (UTC)

Hᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜsᴀɴᴅ ᴍɪʟᴇs ᴀᴡᴀʏ ( ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ )

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)