The Angels' way - A Supernatural Story

53

Despite the difficulties, unanswered questions, and gnawing doubts that twist in her gut, Maeve rises from her bed the next day, once again. With a resolute heart, she descends the creaking wooden stairs leading outside the house, determined that today, things will change. She will wear a smile, she will embrace the possibility of new beginnings, and she will accept that her destiny has irrevocably shifted.

As she steps into the soft morning light, her smile is a fragile façade, a delicate mask to hide the turmoil beneath. Maeve joins Castiel and the Winchesters outside, the air thick with unspoken words. Upon seeing her forced cheerfulness, Castiel freezes, a look of concern creeping into his eyes. He isn't ready to face the reality that lies ahead for his daughter. Sam and Dean step back, their expressions a mix of worry and anticipation as they brace for the impending emotional fallout.

"Well," Maeve says, dusting off the hem of her denim shorts, trying to inject confidence into her tone. "I'm ready."

"Hmm..."

"Dad?" she presses, tilting her head, sensing the tension in the air.

With a grimace, Castiel struggles to find the right words. "It's our monthly visit to Heaven," Maeve continues, an edge of hope creeping into her voice. "I haven't forgotten. So... Oh."

Silence hangs between them like a storm cloud. Castiel's thoughts swirl, grappling with the delicate balance of protection and honesty. Finally, he swallows hard, his voice barely above a whisper. "You can't go to Heaven anymore, Maeve. Not without the celestial essence you once had. It could be dangerous. I tried to convince Ezrael to let you go, just this once. But..."

"Sorry," Maeve interrupts, her heart sinking. "I understand."

She steps back, arms hanging limply at her sides, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon where clouds loom ominously. In the depths of her crisis, Maeve yearns for her mother and brother, the voices of reason that could guide her through the darkness. But those voices are gone, leaving only the haunting echoes of loss.

"I'll go see them," Castiel says, desperation tinging his tone. "I'll tell them about you. I promise to bring back news."

"Hm hm," Maeve replies with a half-hearted nod, her forced smile faltering.

What remains for her now? No powers, no access to Heaven, no idea of what the future holds. She feels as if a piece of her soul has been severed, leaving her empty and adrift. Everything that once defined her has vanished, leaving her a mere shadow of the young woman who had embraced her identity as a Nephilim.

Yet beneath the weight of her despair, Maeve clings to the remnants of what she has left: her father, her beloved Sam and Dean, her loyal dog Bunny, and this old house by the lake. Still, the cloak of Hermogenes has drained more than just her powers; it has siphoned away her sense of purpose. Without it, Maeve feels like a ghost haunting her own life.

Seated on the worn wooden bench under the porch, she watches the world unfold with a heavy heart. It's in that stillness, as night begins to creep in, that Maeve makes a decision.

Later that evening, with Sam asleep and Castiel gone to Heaven, Maeve silently slips out of bed. She places a small folded note on her bedside table, its words a mix of hope and farewell. She retrieves a travel bag from the hallway closet-one she had prepared earlier. As she checks its contents-clothes, fake IDs, weapons-she feels a sense of finality wash over her.

The house is eerily quiet as she descends the stairs, her heart pounding in her chest. She hesitates at the door, contemplating whether to take the keys to the Impala. Guilt gnaws at her; she can't simply abandon it without a trace. Instead, she resolves to drive it to the nearest bus station, leaving it in plain sight for Dean to find. Perhaps she could call him, reassure him that she's okay, if only to ease her own conscience.

Lost in her thoughts, she is jolted back to reality by a familiar voice.

"So, you're leaving?"

Turning, Maeve finds Castiel standing there, his expression a mix of concern and resignation. She shrugs, the weight of her decision heavy in the air. After a moment of silence, he steps forward and envelops her in a tight embrace, cherishing this fleeting moment before a long separation.

"Take care of yourself," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "If you need anything, call me. A simple prayer will bring me back to you."

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice trembling.

Their embrace lingers before Castiel vanishes, leaving Maeve alone with her thoughts. She takes a deep breath, her heart racing as she approaches the door. One last glance at the lake house-a bittersweet farewell-and then she slips into Dean's Impala, the engine purring to life without a sound. With the music turned off and the world outside fading away, she drives into the night, leaving the Winchester family enveloped in a heavy silence, unaware of the storm brewing within her.

As she merges onto the road, Maeve's heart feels like a lead weight in her chest. The darkness of uncertainty looms ahead, and though she tries to steel herself against it, the reality of her choice settles over her like a shroud. In leaving, she hopes to find the answers that seem forever out of reach, yet deep down, she fears she may lose herself in the process.