Whiskey in the Jar

“I think I’ve wandered into the wrong movie. There I was expecting the Exorcist and I’ve ended up in the bloody Borne Identity,” Richard grumbled as he helped the limping Rome down the street. Then an irritating thought occurred to him.

“Shit. We still haven’t got the lobster. Now what?” There was a pause as they hurried and hobbled along. “And, NO, we are not using the sniper.” Rome looked horrified at the idea.

“Of course we’re not!” He tried to pull himself up straight as he said it, to give emphasis to his words. Instead he just winced.

“We’ll think of something. Once we’ve made sure Lenna’s ok. If the Red Caps have attacked…” Richard let the sentence trail off, that would be a tidy outcome. If they got their in time. Sure, Richard didn’t exactly trust Rome’s visions, but so far they hadn’t been wrong. As far as he knew.

Although it had been a few moments, it seemed like an age before they returned to the alley. Only to be greeted by the cackling forms of the two Red Caps. It took Richard a second to realise that the strange lump that one of them was standing over was actually a huddled Lenna. From this angle, he had no way of tell if she was even still alive.

Rigby had hidden himself in the shadows as soon as Burke and Hare had arrived--he sure as bloody hell wasn't going to get himself killed for some human whelp!

He had watched as they tossed her into the alleyway walls like a hound's chewtoy, trying to dredge up any sympathy or caring about her plight, and coming up empty.

Then the other young things showed up, their hearts swelling with love and compassion and other disgusting human emotions like complete-lack-of-self-preservation, and en masse threw themselves into harm's way to defend their fallen comrade.

Rigby thought it was stupid.

And, he figured, that was probably why his Lady had dumped him, why he had got kicked out of the Otherworld, and why he was never, ever, ever, going to be allowed back.

So it was with a dejected spirit and the lack of anything else better to do that Rigby approached the bonfire. The girl had dropped the book finally, so he took it up and opened it to the correct page. He propped it open and began to chant. Then Rigby took the silver knife, which burned a bit, and cut both wrists. Because if he couldn't go home, he sure as hell wasn't sticking around here.

As Rigby bled, there was a bright light, and a woosh!, and Burke was gone.

As he began to feel faint, there was another bright flash, and a woosh!, and Hare was gone.

He kept bleeding, hoping against hope that the next woosh! would send him home, too.

"Rigby!" someone shouted, and suddenly someone was holding him, pulling him away from the bowl, and wrapping his wrists to stop the bleeding that wasn't going to stop. Why did they care? Seriously, why? It made no sense.

"It's too late," he told them, but they wouldn't listen. The spell fire flickered out, and it was dark and cold, and Rigby was alone.

There was silence for some time.

Then there was another bright flash of light. Rigby didn't want to look up until he heard the others gasping, and he smelled--he smelled home, he smelled her perfume--and the light lingered, and when he looked up, there she was:

"My Lady," he whispered.

"Rigby," she said. Her voice was sing-song chanting and musical, and it echoed. Behind her was the lush sparkling green of his home. It ached to see.

"I miss you," he said.

"Then come back with me, Rigby. I forgive you."

Rigby scrunched up his brow. "But I didn't even--"

"I know. But you tried." Then she touched his brow, and he was healed. He felt whole again, he felt himself again, his old power returning. He blinked a bit, in shock, and then he sat up with a delighted cry and gave a whoop. Leaping to his feet he kissed his lady, and turned back to his friends--

Erm, the humans. The four humans (plus one? A prisoner?).

"T'anks--" he said, halting, "for everythin'."

His Lady now smiled and spoke to them: "You may keep the book. I hope it will help you," she said, handing it to the small dark-haired girl. Then his Lady looked up, as if startled by a noise, a sight, or a thought.

"You are in danger," she said, thinking aloud, as was her way, and pursed her lips. Then, taking a deep breath, she blew her breath across them, which shone and tinkled like starbeams. "You must go now. I give you my blessing. You will all leave the city safely if you go now, but I cannot protect you further. Thank you for what you did: but go, now."

The humans didn't need to be told twice, and they quickly shuffled off down the alleyway. The blonde boy stopped, though, and turned to face them: "How can you possibly protect us?" he said.

His Lady only smiled, so Rigby supplied the answer. "Because," he said, "Lady Luck smiles on ye. Now go."

And with that, arm in arm, Rigby and his Lady returned home.

He supposed he should be thankful that Holyfield didn’t just shoot him himself. Between missing his shot, chucking his favorite rifle off the roof, and then getting held hostage by some tiny little blonde woman, Alex’s day had gone from merely annoying to bad to worse. In fact, if Holyfield didn’t shoot him later for basically single-handedly causing their four targets, every single one of them, to escape, he’d be lucky.

And of course, they couldn’t just leave him and walk off, because they wouldn’t get ten feet before every SWORD agent in the near vicinity either shot or tackled or otherwise subdued them. So he was dragged along for the fun, cursing every time he tripped over something in the dark. He was kind of wondering if they had some other reason for not letting him go as soon as they were away, but they weren’t explaining, and he sure wasn’t asking- the less he spoke with them, the better. His earpiece was still working, he could tell by the tell-tale buzz of background electricity static, and he didn’t want anyone to accuse him of working with the enemy. So rather than his usual stream of smartass remarks, he kept quiet.

He was mildly surprised when they mentioned what’d apparently been meant to be some sort of sacrifice, and for a split second, worried that someone in the group might argue for using him- he’d shot one of them, after all. It was Remington, ironically, who seemed the most aghast at the very mention that they might have used him. As fantastic as it was that he wasn’t going to be sacrificed, from a strategic standpoint, Alex was seriously beginning to doubt that guy’s good sense…

After they were done doing their… whatever the heck they’d just done, and people had both appeared and disappeared- not even normal-looking people, mind you, but Fair Folk, in the middle of Boston, the blonde nicked Alex’s handcuffs and handcuffed him to a nearby fire escape. And then then they left. They just wandered off, probably to their car, which he never saw nor heard. So apparently someone on that team had some common sense.

Alex stood there, awkwardly unable to sit, and looked around for something to pick the handcuffs. There was, of course, nothing.

“Command?” he asked, finally, a little hesitantly. There was radio silence for a minute.

“Oh, so they didn’t shoot you?” Holyfield’s voice replied, not sounding even a little bit pleasantly surprised. Oh, okay, so he was really pissed off.

“…No, no they didn’t,” Alex replied.

“So get your ass back here in the next ten minutes, and I might not have the others hunt you next time they’re training,” Holyfield growled.

“Well, command, that’d be pretty damn hard to do,” Alex replied, riled by Holyfield’s tone, “Seeing as they’ve handcuffed me to a fire escape.”

“So pick the lock and then get your ass back here,” Holyfield said. Alex detected a definite hint of amusement in that voice.

“Seriously? When have I ever been able to pick these damn things? Never. And I’m always telling you they’re stupid for me to carry around, because it’s not like I’m ever going to use them, and they’re ugly and they get in my way when I’m trying to sit still and do my job. But noooo, you just insist,” Alex replied. Again there was silence.

“Might take us awhile to find you, Colt, everyone here is a bit busy,” Holyfield responded, and he was definitely laughing. “But we’ll probably be able to get you uncuffed by… oh, morning, at the very latest.” Alex scowled. There were enough of them to send one or two after him and bring him back, but he recognized a punishment when it came up and kicked him in the face. Or left him standing in the cold handcuffed to a fire escape, more accurately. With a very put-upon sigh, Alex shifted until he was at least leaning comfortably against the wall and settled in to wait. And wait. And probably wait some more.

They made it to Georgie's aunt and uncle's house with surprisingly little trouble. Not wanting to push their luck, they literally grabbed their stuff and headed for the door.

"Just where do you think you are going?" came the sound of Uncle Lewis behind them. They turned, guiltily--all of them, including Richard. "What on earth happened to you?" he asked, seeing the blood on their hands and clothes.

"Um," Rome began. "You remember those FBI agents who came to the door earlier this evening, Mr. Gilmore? Yeah, well, when they show up here in about fifteen minutes, we'd appreciate it if you continued to pretend you haven't seen us," he said, and turned again towards the door. "Thanks for having us, you have a lovely house," he babbled as he limped down the front steps.

"Hold it right there," Uncle Lewis demanded loudly. "I haven't been up all night making phone calls and doing research just to have you run off like this. Your 'friends' were most certainly not FBI," he said, and produced a folder full of printed papers and notes written on yellow legal paper. Rome stopped, marveling for a minute before he realized Oh, right, hunter family + lawyer = no information is safe from this guy. "I thought you may not have time, and Georgie should probably refrain from calling this number for a few months, so I prepared as much information as I could find," he said.

Lenna limped forward and cautiously took the dossier, mumbling a small, "Thank you."

"Two more things. Helen insisted on packing you a picnic basket, which is just there," he pointed to a huge basket standing on the floor in the foyer, which Richard picked up with a nod. "Second, Mr. Remington, a package arrived for you by courier just after one." He nodded at the table by the door, on which stood a nondescript-looking package tied with twine and addressed to him at this address.

Which was all kinds of wrong, even before Rome noticed that the address was scribbled in his brother's handwriting. "Uh," he said.

"I was not aware that it was your birthday today. Many happy returns," Uncle Lewis said before turning to Georgie, whispering something in her ear and embracing her tightly, planting a kiss on her head.

"Rome?" Lenna said, hobbling up to him and taking his hand. "Rome, what is that? Are you okay? Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?"

"Um." Rome snatched up the package, as if he could ignore it only if it was tucked safely under his jacket. He would deal with it later. "Nothing. I'm okay. I just forgot, is all. Let's get going, huh, chica?" he said, squeezing her not-too-tightly and guiding her toward the door.

"Be careful," Uncle Lewis called after them.

"Thanks, Mr. Gilmore," he said. Not 'We will' or even 'We'll try.' Nodding at the older man, arm in arm with Lenna, Rome hobbled back down the steps to the car.

"I'm driving," Rome said, throwing his bags into the trunk.

"Rome, that's stupid, you've been shot," Richard pointed out.

"Oh, gee, thanks, man, I'd forgotten. It's also my left leg, the car's an automatic, we need to get the hell out of town and I have a lead foot and don't sleep, so I'm driving," he growled and slid himself into the driver's seat.

Lenna didn’t like the idea of Rome driving, well because he was shot and might be bleeding on the seats. Lenna let Georgie sit on the backseat, that why she could lie down and sleep. The box of books she had gotten from Helen -a few of her father’s books and her mother’s journal- was at her feet. Georgie curled up and slept on the backseat, while Lenna was holding the journal of her mother tight. It wouldn’t have been her mom’s journal if there wouldn’t be lots of drawings in it. It wasn’t like her dad full of things they hunted a useful hunter guide, it was full of story of her children, well mainly of Lenna. Nick was standing very well on his own two feet, always had but Lenna was another story. Lenna was clumsy, loved the outdoors but never managed to come home without a new scratch, bruise or worse. It was a wonder that she never came home with broken bones. Lenna needed someone to watch her, not because she wasn’t able to, it was more that she had her nose always in a book, or in the clouds. But all this was not what froze Lenna. It was the fact that Lorelai had noted how much Lenna missed her friend Dordie, Lorelai thought it was adorable cute that her daughter was not able to say the letter G. A week after the Fees had visited the Gilmore's Lenna and Georgie had spoken over the phone and her daughter had sung for Georgie, a song she had heard this morning on the radio.

“Knowin’ you the way I do, I only wanna be with you and I will do to the ends of the earth, 'cause darlin, to me that's what you're worth. Where you lead I will follow. Anywhere that you tell me to. If you need - If you need me to be with you. I will follow where you lead... If you're out on the road feelin' lonely and so cold. All you have to do is call my name and I'll be there on the next train. Where you lead I will follow. Anywhere that you tell me to If you need - If you need me to be with you, I will follow where you lead. I always wanted a real home, with flowers on the windowsill, but if you wanna live in New York City, Honey, you know I will. I never thought I could det satisafaction from just one man. But if anyone can keep me happy You're the one who can... Where you lead I will follow, anywhere that you tell me to, if you need - If you need me to be with you. I will follow where you lead... Oh baby, ohh, I'm donna follow where you lead. I'm donna follow where you lead....”

Lenna remember singing this song any time she felt lonely. All those little puzzling things she did her entire live she had no explanation for it. Why she turned around when she saw a girl with long straight blond hair. Why she said she knew Wendy for real. Why she never bothered to find a best friend, she truly believed she had already one. The feeling that she had lost something, someone, but she never knew who it was. All those years she spend with her mom she was worried that Lorelai thought of her daughter as weird, but now she found out that she wanted to tell her so often that Lenna was right. There are monsters in this world, but she never wanted to take the childhood from her daughter. Nick knew about their parent’s night job, but he said that he will not follow into the family business, he wanted to be normal and his parents accepted this decision. Lorelai knew that Lenna would have joined them. Neither Lorelai nor Christopher wanted their daughter -that was still so young- to be involved into their hunts. Each time Lorelai had to lie to Lenna and told her all the monsters and things that happened were just her imagination, she wrote an apology in her journal. Lenna had her mom’s entire life, every thought and hope for her daughter was in this book. And the last entry was from the night of her death. Saying that even though Lenna had shouted at Lorelai at the phone and told her that she hates them and hopes they never come back, Lorelai knew that it was Lenna’s way of saying you hurt me very much and I need time to heal. Since Lenna lost Georgie she was terrified of the feeling being left by people.

...My little fairy I hope you will find your way, I have the horrible feeling that something bad is going to happen and I can’t be there for you anymore. No matter if you way will have a normal life or if you will follow your dad and my footsteps and become a hunter, I will always love you and are proud of you!”

Lenna closed her eyes to stop the tears from pouring out, after a couple of deep breath she whispered. “I think there is somehow a bigger plan for us, all out parents got killed by a demon. I haven’t worked it out yet, but something is not normal here. I think it was the same demon...

Rome wasn’t too happy to think about this, but it seemed to be that they were connected before they knew it.

It was the first Lenna spoke in hours, and her voice still sounded cracked but at least she was speaking. And she hadn’t even told them yet that her parents were hunters. She was not yet ready to share this information. Lenna turned around to Georgie. She didn’t need to explain to her best friend what she felt or thought. Georgie looked at her and even though she knew that Lenna was not yet ready to talk about the journals contains, she smiled. “No matter what the big plan is, together we will get through it. Where you lead I will follow.”

They would deal with all or well some of those elephants in the room later not right now.

Lenna smiled breifly before she whined. “This holidays sucked we didn’t even have time to see a Red Sox game.”

FINIS
Thanks to all those who participated in or read Whiskey in the Jar!

Stay tuned for the next webisode of Supernatural: Reanimated Calm before the Storm