The Angels' way - A Supernatural Story

63

Maeve stands before room 312, rooted to the spot despite her racing heart. She longs for the courage to raise her hand, to clench her fist, to knock on the door, and turn the handle. Behind her, Dean pretends not to notice her hesitation, keeping himself busy by checking his phone for an imaginary message, a subtle attempt to give her space.

"Dean," a voice calls from behind her.

He turns, lowers his guard, and smiles as he embraces his friend, a genuine relief washing over him at their reunion after a few days apart. Maeve, however, doesn't need to turn around to know who is standing behind her. She can feel that familiar, radiant warmth against her back.

"Come on," Castiel says softly. "Let's leave them to talk for a bit."

In the next instant, Maeve's father takes Dean by the shoulder, and the two disappear, leaving her alone with her thoughts. This time, she can't retreat. With a surge of determination, she knocks on the door, anxiety coursing through her veins. Footsteps approach from within.

"Dean," she hears Sam's muffled voice through the walls. "Did you forget your key again? Honestly, you... oh."

Then he sees her. The sight of Maeve standing there-exhausted, eyes heavy from a sleepless night, her arms and face smeared with dirt, animal blood, and adorned with various voodoo tattoos-takes his breath away. She braces for anything: a shout, a rejection, a slamming door. Instead, Sam steps forward and envelops her in a tight embrace, the warmth of his arms wrapping around her like a protective cocoon, his hands threading through her messy curls.

"Oh, Maeve," he breathes against her ear.

Relief washes over him. Yes, that's it. He's grateful to see her on the doorstep, dirty and frazzled as she is, feeling the weight of her anxiety settle deep within him. He holds her close, unwilling to let go; not ever.

"I'm sorry for leaving," she finally murmurs, her head resting against his chest.

"It's okay. You're here, and you're safe. That's all that matters. I love you, Maeve."

"I love you too, Sam Winchester."

As they pull away, he searches her face, studying the symbols etched on her skin, trying to decipher what has transpired during their time apart.

"Did Reine's ritual go as planned?" he asks, concern etched in his features.

"I... yes. Yes, it went as planned."

"Good."

Sam gazes at her, tilting his head slightly, a smile breaking through the tension. Behind him, Bunny sleeps soundly, his paws covering his eyes as if sensing the weight of the moment. Maeve knows these upcoming moments will be challenging, and as if reading her thoughts, Sam's smile fades, seriousness settling in.

"And now?"

"Now," she replies with a deep sigh, "I need to ask for your help. Your help, all three of you."

With a determined nod, Maeve calls for her father. Seconds later, Castiel and Dean materialize in the room, ready to do whatever it takes. Maeve takes a seat on Dean's bed, while Sam sits on his own, Bunny nestled in his basket, the atmosphere thick with anticipation.

After recounting her journey-from the day she left the lake house to their reunion here-Maeve lays bare the events of the past few weeks, relieved that no one overreacted upon learning of Hermogenes' death in the Maldives. She shares what Reine revealed that night, her exhaustion palpable.

"Reine thinks she has found a way to help me," she concludes. "To bring back the missing part of me; my divine essence. My angelic grace. At least, that's what she believes."

"Is she sure about the outcome?" Dean asks, his concern evident.

"No," Maeve replies, her voice steady. "She's never performed the ritual before; in fact, no one alive has ever done it, so its true effects are uncertain. And... that's not all."

Castiel leans forward, brows knitted together; Dean rolls his eyes, unphased by the news; Sam attempts a reassuring smile, wanting to be the source of strength in the room.

"Reine was very clear: I'm going to suffer tremendously. Physically, psychologically-the ritual will hurt and weaken me. That's why I needed to undergo her purification ritual first, to ensure my body could withstand it. That's why I'll need your help... if you agree to give it."

"Of course," Dean replies without hesitation.

"Without question," Sam adds, determination shining in his eyes. "Yes."

"Maeve..."

A heavy silence falls as Maeve turns to her father. Castiel's serious expression makes her heart sink, but he steps closer, gently cupping her cheek and taking her hands in his. Gradually, his somber demeanor shifts to one of reassurance.

"You are my daughter, and I... I will do whatever it takes. I will stay with you, always; I promised you that. So if this ritual is truly what you want, then yes. I will follow you. We will all do it."

Maeve smiles, a warmth blooming within her. She doesn't know what the future holds or if the Laveau family's voodoo ritual will succeed; after all, that's rarely the case. But in this moment, surrounded by her family, she feels an unwavering sense of strength. Ready for whatever lies ahead, she nods, gratitude shining in her eyes. She pulls her hair back into a bun, auburn curls cascading down her neck.

"In that case," she says, sitting up straighter, "we have work to do."