Season Three

Episode Twenty-One: Heaven and Earth

By irismay42

Part Three

Mount Diablo, CA

It was almost like an explosion.

In reverse.

Sound—the screams of the damned shrieking around their heads, bouncing off the walls, lodging in their ears—and then no sound at all.

Nothing.

Sam couldn’t even hear himself breathing.

And then there was a light so brilliant and so beautiful Sam could hardly bear to look at it.

Screwing up his eyes, he worked his jaw, trying to get his ears to pop even as he attempted to shake Dean’s hand off the back of his neck and raise his head enough to take a look around him.

Dean released his grip a little but didn’t let go, and for that Sam was oddly grateful, the warmth of his brother’s fingers grounding him, reassuring him that he wasn’t dead and this wasn’t some incredibly intense dream. Or vision. Or worse.

The light was like nothing he’d ever seen before, so pure, so perfect it was almost physically painful to look at it.

He blinked hard and it was nearly too much, but slowly, very slowly, the blinding light began to dissipate, retreating back up to the roof of the cave even as the dark shadows struggling to escape the sinkhole were sucked back down beneath the earth where they belonged, the angry tendrils of flame receding with them with a whoosh of oddly muted sound.

Sam blinked again as his attention was drawn up to the ceiling, not entirely sure what he was looking at and unable to tear away his gaze, even to check on the wellbeing of his brother or his friends.

Dean’s grip slackened and gradually fell away from his neck, fingers coming to rest loosely on Sam’s upper arm. And again Sam was grateful. He didn’t need to look at Dean—couldn’t look at Dean—but at least he knew he was okay, that once again they’d survived something they really shouldn’t have survived.

Thanks to this—this light.

This light that was slowly descending toward them.

It had gathered itself into a ball of pure brilliance, too bright to look at, but no longer painful to the eye and Sam couldn’t understand how he hadn’t been blinded by the intensity of the illumination: he was barely even having to squint at it anymore.

He drew in a breath, swallowing hard and suddenly able to hear every sound around him, from the stuttering of his own breathing to the rustle of Dean’s clothing as he pulled himself to his knees by his side.

He wanted to check that Daisy was okay, but somehow he couldn’t; all he could do was watch the light as it gracefully made its descent toward the cave floor, hovering a few feet from the rocky surface before gently touching down.

As it did so, the light receded still further, gradually coalescing into a distinct shape: the shape of a woman.

As her foot gently touched the ground she became silhouetted for an instant, the light seeming to draw itself into her, enfolding itself within her as she stepped delicately toward them.

Sam drew in another breath, unable to completely process what he was seeing.

Slender and graceful, flowing golden locks, smooth pale skin and cobalt eyes….

He knew her.

“Gudrun…”

Even as he said the name, he knew it couldn’t be so.

The Valkyrie shield maiden had died, torn to pieces in a dark, dank cave far beneath the Canadian tundra. Sam knew because Dean had seen it. With his own two eyes. He’d seen the gory destruction wrought by the kikituk upon the young woman’s apparently all-too-human body. His description had been vivid and detailed, guilt that he had survived while she had not causing him to be quiet and withdrawn for some time after her death. That was enough for Sam to know his brother had told him the truth; that the girl had fallen in another dank cave miles and miles away from this one.

And yet here she was, in the flesh, whole and uninjured, alive and smiling at him.

But as she walked there was a stiffness in her bearing, as if it was with difficulty she held herself upright, her features pale, her lips almost the color of her marble skin.

She was whole. But she did not seem complete….

As the sound seemed to rush back into the cavern and the light returned to its former murky dullness, Sam heard the girl’s words, soft and gentle, pleased to see them.

“Sam. Dean. I think perhaps I missed you…”

Sam opened and closed his mouth a few times in dumbstruck shock, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean do the same, his brother’s eyes never leaving Gudrun even as he instinctively reached behind him to help Daisy haul herself to her feet.

“Who…?” Sam heard the young archeologist whisper, and something in him wanted to answer her, but somehow he didn’t seem to have the words to make any sense out of what he was seeing.

Gudrun continued to smile serenely at them as she approached, finally coming to a halt right in front of him, reaching up and pressing a tiny hand gently against his cheek.

She was so cold….

“You—you were—”

“Dead?” the girl supplied helpfully, and Sam nodded mutely, causing her smile to brighten and her startlingly blue eyes to twinkle mischievously. “Now now, Sam, you know better than that.”

“It ripped you apart,” Sam heard Dean insist. “The kikituk. I saw—”

Gudrun patted Sam’s cheek again fondly before turning her attention to Dean.

She approached him soundlessly, merely reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him into a heartfelt embrace.

And Dean let her.

“It wasn’t your fault, Dean,” she whispered into his ear, and Sam saw his brother shift uncomfortably. “You did the best you could.”

Dean didn’t reply at first, but his arm tightened around her waist a little.

“I think I missed you too,” he managed at last, causing Gudrun’s tinkling laugh to further banish the shadows to the far corners of the cave. “But you tell anyone I said that,” Dean added, pulling away slightly, “and I’ll kill you all over again.”

If Sam hadn’t known better, he would have sworn his big brother’s eyes looked a little shinier than usual.

“So—so how are you—how did you…?” Sam wasn’t entirely sure of the correct etiquette for asking someone why they weren’t dead. “How did you get here?”

Gudrun shrugged dismissively, glancing over Dean’s shoulder to where Jon stood watching, a puzzled expression on his face.

“You were in trouble,” the girl said simply, her eyes never straying from Jon’s face, and Sam got the distinct impression the Valkyrie wasn’t talking about either of the Winchesters.

“But the kikituk—”

“Killed my earthly body, yes,” Gudrun agreed, coming back to herself suddenly. She pulled away from Dean a little, her fingers lingering on his arms. “When I’m—” she glanced around herself, “—here, my body is capable of healing itself more rapidly than a human’s. But I’m not indestructible.”

“So—” Sam hazarded, “—the kikituk damaged your body beyond its ability to heal itself?”

Gudrun nodded. “Yes. Physically, I died.”

“But—”

“But my soul, Sam!” Gudrun turned her attention back to the younger Winchester. “My soul is immortal, remember? Sacrifice is the mark of the hero, and when I sacrificed my earthly shell so that you might escape the kikituk, my immortal soul was transported back to Valhalla. There I was able to recuperate, prepare myself for the battle ahead, recover my strength so that I might once again take on the mantle of a human and return to Earth.”

“You don’t look so recuperated,” Dean commented with a pointed frown, and Sam could see he wasn’t the only once concerned by Gudrun’s disturbingly fragile appearance.

The girl’s gaze once again drifted to Jon. “When those we love are in danger,” she said solemnly, “we find reserves of strength and power we never knew we had.” Her eyes slid to Sam, who fidgeted awkwardly, suddenly aware of Dean’s attention flickering in his direction.

“I never knew you cared, sweetheart,” the older brother said, his focus shifting back to Gudrun as he typically attempted to snark his way out of an impending chick-flick moment of epic proportions.

But Dean knew exactly what Gudrun was getting at, Sam was certain of that. Just as Sam’s powers seemed to manifest themselves when those he loved—up to this point, namely Dean—were in danger, so Gudrun had returned to Earth because she sensed Jon was in peril. And from her unhealthy pallor, it appeared she may have returned before she was truly ready.

Of course, Sam reflected, there were far more people in danger here than just Jon Volsung. If Sam was right about what Lucifer and his minions were up to, then the whole world could be in trouble. Trouble with a capital “T” and a side order of demonic apocalypse.

“What is this place?” he asked tentatively, jerking his head in the direction of the murky pit, still steaming and smoking ominously. “I mean, it’s not an accident that you happened to show up here, right? Is it a Hellgate? Is Lucifer trying to build another Hellgate?”

Gudrun didn’t answer, momentarily distracted as Jon began to move toward her, Zach and Maynard in tow.

The little professor was blinking furiously, an unending litany of, “That didn’t happen. It’s not logical. I’m dreaming,” falling from his distraught lips.

Zach appeared no less nervous, pale and more than a little shell-shocked, immediately planting himself at Daisy’s side and quickly reassuring himself that she was unhurt.

Jon, however, seemed mesmerized by the Valkyrie, his eyes never straying from her as he approached.

Gudrun took a shuddering breath before breaking the hesitant eye contact she had established with the big Norwegian and returning her attention to Sam.

“This isn’t a Hellgate,” she pronounced finally, seeming to mentally shake herself out of her reverie.

“Tell that to those demons trying to bust up outta there,” Dean interjected. “If this place didn’t have some kind of devil’s trap mojo goin’ on, we’d be knee deep in Hell’s Least Wanted by now.”

Gudrun nodded. “You’re right,” she said, and Dean blinked at her as if he must have heard her wrong.

“I am?”

“Yes,” Gudrun confirmed. “But it’s not a Hellgate.”

“Then what is it?” Sam asked quizzically, his forehead crinkling in confusion.

“A conduit,” the Valkyrie replied. “The Conduit, actually,” she added.

“Conduit?” Sam echoed. “Between Hell and Earth?”

Dean blinked. “Just like, oh I don’t know, a Hellgate maybe?”

Gudrun shook her head at his sarcasm. “Not exactly,” she explained. “The Conduit has its mid-point here—creating a connection between Hell and Earth, yes. But it also serves as a gateway between Earth and Valhalla.”

Dean blinked again. “Heaven?” he burst out. “You’re telling me this thing—” he looked upward, eyes scanning the ceiling of the cave, “—this thing goes all the way…Up? To—to the Penthouse?”

Gudrun nodded. “Yes. That’s how I came to be here.”

“Wait.” Dean held up a disbelieving hand. “This is—what? A way for you guys to get in and out of the Pearly Gates without Saint Pete giving you a hall pass?”

Gudrun chuckled. “Something like that.”

“But if Earth is the mid-point,” Sam put in suddenly, the full implications of what Gudrun was telling them suddenly starting to burn a hole in his brain. “Then—then this is also a gateway between Hell and—and Heaven?”

Gudrun nodded solemnly. “Yes,” she confirmed. “A gateway that has existed for millennia. But something is wrong. Those demons you saw? They shouldn’t have been able to get this far—nothing is supposed to be able to escape from Hell this way. If I hadn’t opened the Conduit from Above, casting them back down into the Pit, then …” She trailed off, shaking her head. “It can’t happen. It’s not possible…”

“Demons?” Daisy suddenly interrupted. “Those—those things…they were demons?”

Gudrun looked at her quizzically, but didn’t respond.

“You believe in angels, right?” Dean asked the archeologist abruptly.

Daisy glanced around herself, at the bones scattered throughout the cave. “I—guess…”

“Well according to the Bible—” Dean continued, “and that old dead English dude—”

“John Milton,” Sam translated. “Paradise Lost?”

Daisy blinked at him blankly.

“Then demons are supposed to be fallen angels,” Dean concluded, his voice oozing skepticism. “If you believe in that sort of thing.”

“No ‘supposed to be’ about it,” Gudrun interposed. “This Conduit has been sealed for millennia. To keep them out. Ever since the Fall.”

Sam’s gaze snapped to the Valkyrie. “Then…I was right?” He sounded as shocked as Dean had earlier. “This is the actual site of the Fall?”

Gudrun nodded. “It was the greatest battle ever waged in Heaven,” she confirmed. “Here, God’s army held fast against Lucifer and his rebellious hoards, battling them for many days before finally casting them down into the Pit—”

“Through the Conduit?”

Gudrun nodded again. “At that time there was no mountain here, only small islands surrounded by sea, water stretching out from horizon to horizon. As the battle raged Above, those who lost their lives—God’s faithful and the Fallen alike—fell to Earth here. The remains of those who gave their lives to protect their Father’s house sanctified the earth and the water, creating—”

“A sea of holy water,” Sam put in. “Between Heaven and Hell.”

“Yes,” Gudrun confirmed. “But it was more than that. When Lucifer and his army Fell here, the water became as fire, burning away their angelic aspect in preparation for their descent into Hell.”

“The Lake of Fire?” Sam asked. “Like in Revelation?”

“Exactly,” Gudrun agreed. “This is the place where Lucifer and his followers took the form they bear today.”

“Demons.”

“Yes. Once their angelic countenances had been destroyed forever, God finally cast them down into Hell to burn for all eternity. The Conduit was sealed to ensure Lucifer and his minions might never again threaten Heaven or Earth, the remains of those who fell in battle sanctifying the water and the earth for many miles around, creating an invisible barrier that no demon could ever breach.”

“That’s why they couldn’t get out earlier?” Sam asked.

“It’s the last line of defense,” Gudrun confirmed. “Should they ever manage to escape the Pit. The mountain was raised to obscure the entrance to the Conduit from curious men, the bones left scattered around the entrance not only as a further ring of protection from anything that might find a way to escape Hell, but also to deter those humans living nearby from venturing in further. Superstition can be a powerful ally. Any man coming across the remains would think twice before attempting to gain entry to the mountain.”

“And this seal,” Sam asked. “It’s held since then?”

“It has,” Gudrun confirmed. “The hosts of Hell have never breached its threshold.” She glanced behind her to the still-smoldering sinkhole. “But Lucifer is mobilizing his troops. He has other Hellgates—that’s how he came to be walking the Earth once more—but he has nothing like this. The loss of the Gate in Leicester dealt him a bitter blow, and the other Gates for the most part have resisted his attempts to open them, except at certain times of the year or when certain complex rituals are performed. If he is to raise his entire army from Hell, then he must find an alternative, more convenient escape route, one that he may access at any time and in greater numbers.”

“And this is it?” Dean put in, gesturing to the rocky chasm behind them. “This Conduit?”

Gudrun nodded. “Yes,” she confirmed. “The Conduit is far superior to any Hellgate he might succeed in opening.”

Dean frowned. “Why? It’s still just another doorway between Hell and Earth, right?”

“No,” Gudrun insisted. “It’s so much more than that. Certainly, if Lucifer can open the Conduit he can create another way out of the Pit and bring forth more of his underlings to subjugate Mankind—”

“That’s not bad enough for you?” Dean asked.

Gudrun sighed. “Dean,” she said. “If Lucifer opens this Conduit, not only will he have created a demonic escape route from Hell to Earth—”

Sam blanched. “But he’ll also have created a route from Hell to Heaven.” He blinked wide eyes at Gudrun, his face paling considerably as the ramifications of his words slowly sank in.

Dean’s mouth fell open, but for once no words tumbled out. “No, wait a second,” he managed at last, gaze bobbing between the Valkyrie and his brother. “You mean—you think that—you can’t mean…?”

Sam swallowed hard. “Lucifer’s planning an assault on Heaven?” He finished Dean’s thought for him, looking to Gudrun for confirmation that he was wrong, that this couldn’t be Lucifer’s ultimate gameplan.

But no such confirmation was forthcoming.

The Valkyrie merely shrugged. “I don’t know whether Lucifer has the temerity to attempt a full-frontal assault on Heaven,” she said. “But he is proud and willful, and his stated aim and that of the Fallen has always been that they will one day return to their Heavenly home and reclaim their angelic heritage. If Lucifer can find a way back then there is a chance he might find allies there—allies who could turn the tide of battle in his favor.” She glanced first at Sam and then at Dean, holding each of their gazes in turn. “We can’t let that happen,” she insisted. “It could be the end. It could be the end of everything. Lucifer could control everything.”

This was big. This was too big. Heaven, Hell, demons and angels? What chance did any of them stand if they got themselves in the middle of something this cosmic?

Dean took a step forward, chin raised defiantly. “What can we do?” he asked calmly. “How do we stop this Satanic asswipe?”

Gudrun sighed heavily, running a tired hand across her pale forehead. “I’m not sure,” she admitted at length. “All I know is that the Conduit must remain sealed. Everything depends on it. Everything.”

“How do we do that?” Sam asked tentatively. “There has to be a way, right? If the seal has held this long? There have been earthquakes here before—”

“Not on this scale.” Maynard was suddenly standing at Sam’s elbow, his face almost as pale as Gudrun’s, but a faint spark of acceptance lurking in his bright eyes. “If these—these demons are intent on destabilizing the fault line in order to break this—this seal of yours, then I would say they are going the right way about it.”

Jon took a step toward them, nodding his agreement. “They’ve already managed to raise the water temperature for a hundred miles around,” he said. “The lake of holy water has been boiled away. It’s only a matter of time until the tremors dislodge the bones and the sanctified earth. Then what would happen to the seal?”

“It will break,” Gudrun admitted. “The Conduit will be open and Lucifer and his hoards will have free rein on Earth and—and direct access to Heaven.”

“The end of the world,” Jon muttered. “The Apocalypse.”

Gudrun began to nod, a frown suddenly creasing her brow as her eyes rolled back in her head and she stumbled as if she was about to pass out.

Sam, Dean and Jon all lurched forward, Jon reaching the Valkyrie first, catching hold of her and keeping her on her feet, pulling her to his side and holding her there.

Gudrun laughed weakly, eyes turning up to gaze into Jon’s. “Opening the Conduit,” she said softly, “requires a great deal of energy. Perhaps I just need to rest. Coming here—driving back the demons—perhaps it was a little ambitious for my first day back in human form.”

Jon continued to hold the girl upright, his mouth a tight line as he considered her. “You do not look well,” he told her. “Perhaps you should return to the place from where you came—”

Gudrun shook her head vehemently. “No,” she said. “My place is here, by your side.” She stopped suddenly, biting her lip before adding, “By all of your sides.”

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance before Dean suddenly said, “Hey Frodo, you got the little lady?”

Jon nodded at him, and Sam quirked an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“I got an idea,” Dean informed him. “Jon, stay and look after Miss Indestructible here will ya? Me ’n Sammy gotta go check something out.”

“We do?” Sam asked skeptically.

Dean elbowed him meaningfully in the ribs. “Sure we do, Sasquatch. “C’mon. We got a world to save and an Apocalypse to avert. Again.”

* * * *

Jon Volsung was not a shy man.

He had no trouble attracting women, was never timid in their company, and never struggled to string a coherent sentence together whilst in their presence, particularly when one of them was swooning in his arms.

Which was why, as he watched the Winchester boys head off to explore the cavern, he was somewhat at a loss as to why he had absolutely no idea what to say to the young woman he was currently holding upright, the one with the cobalt blue eyes who was gazing up at him as if he were the only man on the planet.

He glanced once again in the direction Dean and Sam were heading, almost tempted to ask if they needed any help, before Gudrun suddenly whispered, “I think maybe I need to sit down.”

Jon’s attention skidded back to the young woman, suddenly aware of the unnatural size of his tongue in his mouth and the way his palms were sweating even as he encircled the Valkyrie in his muscular arms.

“Uh…yes. Of course. You should. Sit down. You should definitely sit down.”

He guided the girl to a large flat rock jutting up from the uneven floor, easing her down gently before hesitantly perching next to her. To his surprise, she leaned into him, continuing to gaze up into his eyes while he fumbled with his hands, wondering whether to release his hold on her now that she was sitting and didn’t look as if she was in imminent danger of faceplanting on the cavern floor.

He moved his arm slightly, as if to withdraw the limb from its current position wrapped around her shoulders, but she caught his fingers, keeping him exactly where he was as she tentatively rested her head against his shoulder.

He coughed awkwardly, eyes once again searching out the Winchesters, who had disappeared from sight, while Maynard, Zach and Daisy were caught up in examining one of the disinterred skeletons near the rim of the sinkhole.

“You feel better?” he managed to ask, his knee beginning to bounce nervously until Gudrun placed her hand on it, stilling his involuntary movement with a soft smile.

“Yes,” she told him, snuggling further into him until he could feel her heart beating against his chest. “I feel much better now,” she added, averting her eyes for a second, but not removing her hand from its resting place on Jon’s knee.

Jon held completely still, the warmth of the girl’s fingers at once comforting and terrifying. “I—I am very pleased to see you again,” he said lamely, immediately rolling his eyes at himself and shaking his head.

“I’m pleased to be seen,” Gudrun replied with a chuckle.

“And I’m glad you’re not—”

“Dead?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m very glad you’re not dead.”

Jon turned away slightly, but could still feel her warm breath on his cheek and his neck, his heartbeat quickening in time with hers.

“Then we’re agreed,” Gudrun said, a teasing lilt to her voice. “We’re both happy I’m not dead.”

Jon laughed at that, his gaze returning to her pale face, which slowly seemed to be regaining a little color. “I—I don’t—” he began, sighing before scratching at his chin with his free hand and trying again. “I still don’t really know what happened in Canada,” he managed. “The Winchesters…they told me little, and I’m not sure even they knew exactly what was going on, why Lucifer held me prisoner or why—why you gave your life to save me.”

“Sacrifice,” Gudrun reiterated. “It’s sometimes necessary when those we love are in danger.”

Jon averted his gaze again, nodding slightly. “I understand that,” he said quietly. “Now. At the time, when Dean described to us what had happened to you, what that monster had done… Back then, I didn’t even know who you were. And—and I did not understand how you seemed to know me…”

Gudrun placed a soft hand against his cheek, turning his face in her direction once more.

“And now?” she asked carefully. “What do you understand now? Do you…” She paused for a heartbeat before continuing. “What do you remember now?”

Jon glanced down at his left hand, the one resting on his knee next to Gudrun’s. The one where he still felt the ghostly echo of a wedding ring that he had never worn. “You called me ‘Helgi,’” he pointed out tentatively.

“Yes,” Gudrun said, blinking a little too quickly as her eyes began to glisten. “He—he was someone very important to me.”

Jon nodded thoughtfully. “The trap. In Canada. The place where Lucifer imprisoned me.” He took a breath. “It wasn’t set for me, was it? I was just the bait. For you. He knew you would come for me.”

Gudrun looked away. “Yes,” she admitted quietly. “I believe so. Lucifer and I—had crossed paths. In New Jersey. I… I ‘removed’ a handful of his troops from the battlefield. He was most displeased.”

“I can imagine,” Jon agreed. “He wished to kill you? Or—or remove you from this mortal world?”

Gudrun looked up at him, a hint of surprise ghosting across her features. “What do you know about me?” she asked.

“Only what the Winchesters have told me,” Jon informed her. “That you are what they call a ‘Reaper.’ That you convey the souls of the dead to Valhalla. That you have great healing powers and healed Sam’s hand after he was tortured by one who had escaped from the Underworld.” He took another breath. “That you had lived for many hundreds of years. And that they had believed you immortal.”

“Until I ‘died,’” Gudrun interjected. “Yes. All of that is true.” She paused. “Does that disturb you?”

Jon shrugged. “Much that I have learned since meeting the Winchesters has disturbed me,” he told her. “I have adapted my world view accordingly.”

Gudrun laughed softly, tracing her fingers down his cheekbone and along his jaw. “That happens to many who cross paths with the Winchesters,” she told him. “They are never the same again.”

Jon withdrew his arm from about Gudrun’s shoulders, taking both her hands in his own and placing them against his rapidly-beating heart. “As I have not been since meeting you,” he told her solemnly, swallowing hard.

Gudrun blinked again, exhaling a shuddering breath.

“In the cave, back in Canada,” Jon continued, determinedly holding the young woman’s shimmering gaze. “I heard you… as that monster killed you. You cried out in my own tongue. ‘Helgi. Jeg vil elske deg til evig tid, og når tiden ikke er mer, vil jeg fortsatt elske deg, til universets slutt og videre. Jeg er din for alltid.’” He lowered his gaze again, translating the words but unable to look at her as he did so. “I will love you forever, and when time is no more, I will still love you, to the universe’s end and beyond. I am yours forever.” He shifted awkwardly, staring determinedly at his naked ring finger. “Why would you say that to me?” he asked. “Why would you say such a thing to a stranger? Unless...unless we—”

“Unless we had met before?” Gudrun once more turned his face toward her, running her thumb soothingly along his cheekbone. “Helgi...” she whispered softly, gazing up into his eyes.

Jon lowered his face toward her, his forehead resting gently against hers.

“Helgi,” she whispered again. “It’s been so long…”

“You knew me before,” he breathed slowly. “Before I became Jon Volsung. ‘In another life,’ that’s what you said to me. En annen liv. That’s when you knew me. In another life. When I was—when I was—”

“Helgi,” Gudrun confirmed. “My husband.”

Jon took a breath, nodding slowly. “I had thought I was going mad,” he told her slowly. “Remembering things that had not happened to me.” He pulled away slightly, looking deep into her eyes. “Remembering you.”

Gudrun nodded. “I couldn’t tell you. I had to let you remember in your own time. It—it would have been too much.”

Jon ran hesitant fingers through her hair and she closed her eyes, her cheeks taking on a rosy hue even as his fingertips grazed her skin. “I don’t remember everything,” he said softly. “It started with a wedding ring… A cabin in the woods. Snow on your eyelashes…” He trailed off, and before he could utter another word Gudrun had turned her face up towards his, her lips gently brushing his own.

“Helgi…” she sighed. “I missed you so much.”

He held her for a second, returning her caress uncertainly before pulling away ever-so-slightly, still only a hair’s breadth between them. “Who was I?” he asked her. “How did I come to be here?”

Gudrun took a deep breath, briefly closing her eyes as if composing herself for the story she knew must be told.

Jon took a breath too, unsure he wanted to hear it.

“When you died…” the Valkyrie began carefully. “When you were human…and…and my husband…” She swallowed, eyes downcast as her fingers laced with his, her thumb gently stroking his empty ring finger. “If I could have died with you, I would have done.” She blinked up at him, eyes sparkling with gathering moisture. “I could not let you go, would not let you ago, and eventually my tears woke you from your grave, raising you up so that you might accompany me to Valhalla as Einherjar, one of Odin’s army of the dead.”

Jon inclined his head slightly, a puzzled expression etched into his forehead. “I remember nothing of that,” he admitted, his brow scrunching further. “Only—only what happened before. When I was human.”

“That’s understandable,” Gudrun assured him. “You’re human now—it’s only logical that your human memories should resurface first.”

Jon’s frown deepened. “Then—when I died—I became no longer human?”

“You became—” Gudrun paused, obviously considering how to phrase her response, “—more than human. The Einherjar were chosen by Odin himself, warriors who fell in battle, trained in the Afterlife to stand with him at Ragnarok and defeat the enemies of the gods and the forces of Hell.”

“The Apocalypse?”

Gudrun nodded slightly. “When the armies of the Underworld began to rise once more and Lucifer again walked the Earth, a number of the Einherjar were reborn as men to continue the battle here, as an advance guard of sorts: a last line of defense before Lucifer laid this world to waste and took the battle to Valhalla. You, Helgi—you were chosen for this honor. To protect the humans inhabiting this world, to fight the armies of Darkness.”

“That place,” Jon said. “Those markings on the catacombs in Canada. The Winchesters said demons could not escape—”

Gudrun squeezed his hand. “You’re not a demon, Helgi. The devil’s trap imprisons many other supernatural beings, not all of whom are evil.”

“It works on you?”

“Yes,” Gudrun admitted. “That is why neither of us would have been able to escape from that place had the Winchesters not destroyed the markings. Einherjar are just as susceptible to the magic of a devil’s trap as a demon—or a Valkyrie.”

She squeezed his hand again, looking up at him with sparkling eyes.

“I have something that belongs to you,” she told him. “Something you will need in the coming battle.”

She stood stiffly, Jon rising to his feet with her, supporting her gently swaying frame as she tried to regain her balance on weakened legs.

“You need more rest—” he began to protest, but Gudrun waved off his ministrations with a dismissive smile.

“The End of Days waits for no one, Helgi,” she told him. “I will rest when you and the rest of this world are safe from Lucifer and his hoards.”

Carefully, she drew back the long animal skin coat she wore, revealing a flash of silver at her belt.

“This was yours when you lived, my love,” she told him, reaching into her coat and producing a gleaming silver sword, the hilt plain but decorated with runes and other markings while the blade itself was a lethal sweep of finely polished metal. She held it out towards him reverently, one hand supporting the hilt, the other the blade. “It was yours when you were Einherjar.” She bowed her head slightly, like a servant presenting a weapon to her king, and Jon hesitated, his fingers reaching toward the sword with an inexplicable familiarity.

Gudrun raised her eyes to his once more, nodding slightly as she continued to hold the blade out to him. “You will need this in the coming battle against Lucifer and his army. Take it, my lord.” Her gaze faltered. “My love.”

Once again she bowed her head, and this time Jon’s fingers closed around the hilt and the blade, lifting the sword out of her hands and hefting it experimentally.

The hilt felt strong and solid in his hand, fitting the shape of his fist as if it had always belonged there. As if it had been forged just for him. His fingers tingled in the same way he thought he had imagined they had the first time he touched Gudrun, when he caught her before she could collapse to the cavern floor.

He remembered this.

He remembered her.

“I thought—” he began, eyes tracking the glittering blade as it swooped through the air in front of him. “I thought I was having visions, hallucinations.” He lowered the sword, again meeting Gudrun’s gaze. “Ever since your ‘death’ in Canada I—I kept experiencing flashes of—of something—memories—that I knew could not be mine. A different time, a different place. Battles I never fought. Homes I never lived in. A wife I—a wife I never had and a life I never led. I thought I was going mad. I thought Lucifer or one of his minions had done something to me while I was their prisoner, put thoughts into my head to distract me. Living a life with you, fighting by your side.” He paused, looking away again. “Loving you. I—I even recalled my own death. On a frozen battlefield somewhere I couldn’t identify, lying there, waiting for—something. Someone. Waiting for you. You led me away to Valhalla. I saw your face as clearly as I see it now. You were the one who transported my soul to the Afterlife.”

Gudrun was nodding, a single crystalline tear tracking down her cheek.

Jon reached out to her, wiping away the moisture with his thumb, his large hand gently cupping her face. “I heard you crying,” he told her. “I felt your tears raining down upon me.”

Gudrun drew in a shaky breath. “I couldn’t see you in the ground, my love,” she told him. “I couldn’t carry on without you by my side. I never stopped loving you, never. Even death could not separate us. When Odin chose you as Einherjar, it was the happiest I had been since I lost you. But even that was temporary. I begged and pleaded even though I knew it was a great honor that had been bestowed upon you when you were chosen for this dangerous mission—to be once again reborn as a mortal. To protect the human race from the armies of Hell. Still—” her eyes drifted away to the middle distance. “You had been taken from me a second time and I descended into a dark, dark place, a place where all I desired was revenge upon the evil that walked this Earth, the evil that had necessitated your being ripped once again from my side.”

Jon brushed another tear from her cheek, bending slightly so their foreheads touched once more.

“I was forbidden to follow you here,” Gudrun continued, seeming to take comfort in his proximity, the warmth of his skin and his breath on her cheek. “But just being here—inhabiting the same plane of existence as you—brought me some measure of comfort in my loneliness.” She blinked hard. “As did reaping the souls of evil men, removing them from this world and dispatching them to Hell.”

“That is why the Winchesters refer to you as a Reaper?”

“Yes,” Gudrun confirmed. “I became an instrument of vengeance, eaten up by loneliness, anger and despair. Until I met them. Until they showed me that this was not my purpose, that I could use my powers for good in the fight against the seemingly unstoppable forces of evil spreading like a cancer throughout this world.” She paused, pulling away a little and looking up at him, nothing less than blind adoration in her eyes. “Helgi, this is why I am here. I am sure of it. Now that you know the truth—you know who you were, who you are, who you should be—then I too can be who I was supposed to be. Yours, my love. I am no longer forbidden to be with you.” She placed her hand once again against the side of his face. “We can resume our fight side by side,” she told him. “As we were meant to be.”

Jon took a long breath, eyes averted to the rocky ground on which they stood. He moved back slightly, Gudrun’s hand slipping from his cheek. “This is—this is a lot for me—to—to—” He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair as with his other hand he raised the glittering silver sword and examined it thoughtfully.

“Helgi—Jon.” Gudrun rested her fingers against his arm, stilling his jerky movements. “It’s understandable that you should be—troubled. Destiny is not something that can easily be outrun or ignored.” She laughed hollowly. “Just ask Sam and Dean Winchester. This is a heavy weight that has been placed upon your shoulders.”

“Up until a few months ago I was just a marine biologist,” Jon pointed out with a shrug. “Now you tell me I am a reincarnated Norse warrior who may be the key to saving mankind from evil? ‘Troubled’ does not really begin to cover it.”

“I know this is a heavy burden,” Gudrun sympathized. She caught his chin with her fingers, once again raising his gaze to hers. “But we will carry it together. You are not alone. I came back for you—to protect you. To help you. I—I love you, Helgi! Time, death, nothing will ever change that! Heaven, Hell, I won’t let anything come between us again, not ever. You’re my everything! I love you more than life! What good is immortality if I can’t be with the one person I love more than anything else? The one person I love beyond time and death?”

Jon squared his shoulders and raised his chin a little, reaffirming his grip on the sword. “Who am I to argue with Destiny?” he asked, a tiny smile flickering at the corners of his mouth. “If this is what the world requires of me—if this is what you require of me—then we will face what Destiny has planned for us. Together. If you will help me protect this world from the armies of Lucifer, then somehow I will help you find a way to seal the Conduit and protect Valhalla from the Underworld.”

Gudrun’s face brightened, the fingers of one hand entwining in the hair at the nape of his neck. “It sounds simple when you say it like that,” she told him, gently leaning her head against his shoulder.

Jon nodded, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her closer. “It is simple,” he told her, kissing her gently, that strange tingle spreading from his lips to the tips of his fingers and the ends of his hair. “Now that we have each other.”

* * * *

“Look at it, Sammy!”

Dean sighed pointedly as Sam stared at the cave wall with a blank expression on his face.

Finally the younger brother shrugged his shoulders in defeat. “It’s a wall, Dean,” he replied. “Just like the last three walls you showed to me!”

Dean shook his head. “Y’know, for someone with a brain the size of a planet, you can be really dumb sometimes, little bro!” he told his brother irritably.

When Sam continued to gaze at him as if he still didn’t have the first clue what the hell he was talking about, Dean grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him so that he was facing the wall, seized his hand and slapped it flat against the rocky surface.

“Feel that.”

Sam grimaced at him. “Okay, so it’s a wall made of rock,” he snapped, snatching back his hand and jerking away from his brother. “Kinda what you’d expect to find in a cave…”

Dean rolled his eyes, rapidly losing his patience. “Sulfur, Sam,” he said, enunciating his words carefully as if he was talking to a four-year-old; pretty much the way four-year-old Sammy used to talk to eight-year-old Dean now he came to think about it. Sammy was so gonna be payback’s bitch.

“We’re standing next to a Conduit to Hell, Dean. There’s pretty much gonna be sulfur all over the place…”

Dean bit off the urge to retort, “I’m not an idiot!”, instead pointing once more to the cave wall. “Sulfur and saltpeter, Sam!”

Sam blinked at him.

“See this is what happens when you spend your entire childhood in the library instead of blowin’ stuff up with your big brother.”

Sam raised an eyebrow.

Dean huffed. “Remember that summer we spent with Caleb, Einstein?” he prodded. “Y’know, when he showed us how to make gunpowder…?”

Sam blinked at him. Looked at the wall. Looked back at Dean. Blinked again. “You wanna make gunpowder?” he burst out at length. “Here? Now? Seriously?”

“Unless you got some C4 in that duffel I don’t know about.”

“But… but…” Sam opened and closed his mouth a few times like a demented goldfish before managing to splutter, “But why?”

Dean rolled his eyes again. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Dean, I doubt the little bit of gunpowder you might be able to MacGyver outta whatever you can scrounge up in this place would be enough to close the Conduit—”

“No,” Dean agreed. “But it might be enough to hold off anything dark and nasty trying to crawl on out of Hell while we figure out a more permanent solution! I’m just lookin’ to buy us some time here!”

“Until what?” Sam said. “Until Gudrun recharges her batteries? Even she doesn’t know how to close the Conduit!”

“I know that, Sam,” Dean huffed. “But while we’re waiting for you and Gudrun and all your big-brained Stanford buddies to think of a way to save the world, this is the best my meager intellect can come up with, okay?”

Dean drew a breath and so did Sam, both suddenly unable to make eye contact with the other.

Sam scratched the back of his neck absently. “You know you’re one of the smartest people I know, right?” he said quietly.

Dean looked at him, for a second unable to see the olive branch for the trees. “Yeah, me ’n Paris Hilton,” he shot back tightly.

“Dean.”

“What?”

Sam took a slow breath. “Look, just because you didn’t go to Stanford doesn’t mean I think you’re stupid, okay?” When Dean didn’t reply, Sam added, “Okay?” a little more forcefully.

“Okay,” Dean conceded grudgingly.

“It’s just—”

“Here it comes.”

“Dean, I’m just not sure the whole gunpowder thing is gonna work, that’s all.”

“Why not?” Dean demanded. “’Cause one of your Stanford buddies didn’t think of it?”

“’Cause contrary to what you might think I did actually pay attention when Caleb was teaching us how to make the stuff.” Sam sighed, raking a weary hand through his hair. “You see any trees around here? Huh? Charcoal? Where are you planning on getting your organic component?”

Dean thought about that, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. “I’ll think of something,” he insisted, casting his gaze around the cave thoughtfully. “There’s got to be something we can use…”

“Winchesters!”

Dean and Sam both spun at the hail, Jon and Gudrun approaching them at an unusually slow pace, the shield maiden leaning heavily on the biologist’s arm, his free hand clutching an impressive-looking silver sword.

Dean raised an eyebrow in approval. “Like the silverware, Frodo!” he burst out, stepping toward the Norwegian in the hope of getting a closer look.

Jon drew the blade away slightly, merely shrugging at the almost affronted look that subsequently appeared on Dean’s face. “It was a gift,” he told the brothers. “From my wife.”

Dean glanced over at Sam uncertainly before turning his attention back to Volsung. “You—uh—get hitched while we were off over here trying to stop the world ending?” he asked casually.

Gudrun was gazing up at the Norwegian like he was Brad Pitt, George Clooney and that dead guy out of Grey’s Anatomy all rolled into one. Gently, he cupped her face in one large hand before grazing her lips with a chaste kiss.

Dean blinked.

“Okay, back up,” he insisted, taking a step toward the couple. “I think I missed a chick flick moment somewhere.”

Gudrun finally turned her gaze away from Jon, her cheeks coloring as she smiled a little abashedly. “It’s a long story,” she told the brothers shortly. “And as you pointed out, the world may be about to end.”

“You knew each other didn’t you?” Sam put in suddenly. “Before? Helgi Sigmundarson… or—or Volsung…? That’s why you called him by that name back in Canada?”

Gudrun nodded slightly in confirmation. “He was my husband.”

“A mortal man who died in battle and was transported to Valhalla to become Einherjar, right?”

Gudrun seemed somewhat taken aback. “You know this?”

“Honey, have you even met my brother?” Dean asked sardonically. “Research Geekboy of the Year 2009!”

Sam grimaced and elbowed Dean in the ribs, causing the older brother to grunt in surprise.

“Well your research is correct,” Gudrun said. “Helgi was chosen to be reborn as a mortal in order to help fight the forces of Lucifer,” she explained. “That’s why he’s here. And that’s partly why Lucifer captured him. But also to get to me. I told you I came back to help those I loved—” she turned her gaze back to Volsung, “—those I have loved… Well that was the truth. Even death couldn’t keep us apart.”

Dean made a retching sound and this time Sam elbowed him a little harder.

Gudrun’s smile widened. “Pretend all you want, Dean Winchester, I know you’re just an old romantic at heart.”

Dean grimaced at her. “Less of the ‘old’ there, Mrs. Methuselah,” he snapped, trying but failing to keep the affronted glare on his face for very long. “So that’s what kept Jon in the devil’s trap?” he asked suddenly. “’Cause he’s one o’ these Ein—Ein—er—stein things?”

“Einherjar,” Sam and Gudrun corrected him simultaneously.

“What I said.”

“Yes,” Gudrun concluded. “Helgi—Jon—is human, but he retains some of the essence of the Einherjar. The devil’s trap does not differentiate between a demon and certain other supernatural beings.”

Sam nodded. “And you came back from Valhalla because you sensed he was in danger?”

Gudrun looked slightly embarrassed. “And because of the Conduit—”

“But you came back for him first?” Dean put in. “Just like in Canada. That’s why you sacrificed yourself? To save him?”

Gudrun smiled lopsidedly. “Aww, I’m sorry, sweetie. Did I hurt your feelings?” she cooed, her smile widening mischievously. When Dean scowled at her, she continued, “I didn’t particularly want to see you and Sam being skewered by a Kikituk either, Dean.”

Dean straightened, grinning broadly. “I knew you loved me really, princess,” he told her.

“Uh-huh,” Gudrun agreed less than enthusiastically. “I never could resist a man with dirty hands.”

Dean glanced down at his fingers, which were covered in a mixture of sulfur and saltpeter, which he’d been scraping off the walls experimentally. “Oh, this?” he said, shrugging. “Sorry, I left my manicurist in my other jacket.”

“What are you doing exactly?”

“Trying to save our asses,” Dean replied, as if that should be obvious.

“Oohkay,” Gudrun said. “Uh—how exactly?”

“He wants to make gunpowder,” Sam explained for his brother, his skepticism clear in the tone of his voice. “But there’s nothing organic here for us to add to the mix, and there’s no way we could make enough to collapse the Conduit—”

“No,” Gudrun agreed somewhat distractedly, suddenly catching hold of Dean’s hands and examining them thoughtfully. “No, you couldn’t…”

Dean raised an eyebrow at her. “I know you missed me, honey, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you hold my hand…”

“Shut up for a second,” Gudrun snapped at him. “I’m thinking.”

“This could take a while then.”

“I said shut up!” Gudrun repeated exasperatedly, only half listening to Dean as she scanned the floor of the cave thoughtfully. Suddenly she looked up at him, an excited glint in her eye as she squeezed his hands. “Use the earth from around the angel remains,” she instructed him.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “The—uh—why?”

“When the remains of those who fell decomposed—”

Sam nodded suddenly. “Organic component.”

“Exactly.”

Dean frowned. “Wait. You’re saying we should use decomposed angels to make gunpowder?”

“What’s left of them in the earth, yes,” Gudrun agreed.

“That’ll work?” Dean queried, squirming a little uncomfortably. “It seems a little bit—I dunno—disrespectful maybe?”

Gudrun patted his hand. “Trust me, Dean, those who gave their lives to protect Heaven and Earth will not mind.”

Dean nodded uncertainly. “Yeah, I guess…” he began, his eyes suddenly tracking over Gudrun’s shoulder to where Jon had turned away slightly and seemed to be stumbling toward the Conduit.

“Hey Frodo!” Dean called to him, causing Gudrun to turn back in the direction of her former husband.

“Jon, what’s wrong?” Gudrun asked, pulling away from Dean and heading uncertainly after Jon. She swayed a little on her feet without anyone to anchor her, and Dean quickly caught her arm, steadying her as Sam made to follow Jon.

“Jon, are you okay?” Sam asked, coming up on the big Norwegian’s shoulder.

Volsung frowned, his hand raised before him, the sword seeming to tremble in his grasp. “It’s…” he trailed off, seeming as if he wanted to explain, but unable to find the words. “The sword,” he tried again. “It feels like… It feels like it wants me to go this way…”

Sam glanced over his shoulder at Dean, who was still hanging on to Gudrun. “The sword wants you to go that way?” Sam clarified, following in the biologist’s footsteps.

Jon nodded. “Yes,” he confirmed. “It’s almost like—like it’s pulling me…somewhere. Like—like a magnet or…something.” He stretched out his arm, the tip of the blade vibrating visibly.

Sam followed him, Dean and Gudrun close behind, as he made his way toward the edge of the pit.

Daisy, Zach and Maynard looked up as he approached, Zach rising to his feet and taking a hesitant step toward him. “Hey, you okay man?” he asked. “Jon?”

Volsung didn’t appear to have heard him, still apparently following the pull of the sword closer and closer to the edge of the Conduit.

“Wait, Jon, not so close!” Gudrun called after him

“This happen often?” Dean asked the Valkyrie. “I mean, his sword kinda trying to get him to throw himself through a doorway to Hell?”

Gudrun glanced at him dismissively before trying to pull away from him to get to Jon.

“Hold on there, sister—”

Suddenly Gudrun shoved Dean away with a strength he would not have thought she possessed in her current weakened state, dashing past Sam and Zach until she neared Jon’s position.

“Helgi, stop!” she insisted. “Jon!”

Jon continued forward apparently oblivious to her cries, the tip of the sword seeming to drag him right toward the precipice of the pit.

“Jon!” Gudrun cried again. “Jon, stop!”

And this time he did, so suddenly he teetered right on the brink of the abyss, the sword raised high above his head and a somewhat befuddled expression on his handsome face.

“Here,” he announced at length, the tip of the sword abruptly plunging into the earth at his feet, as if of its own volition.

Sam, Gudrun, Dean and Zach all converged on his position, Sam catching hold of his arm and pulling him away from the edge of the Conduit while Dean squinted at the soft earth around the blade.

“What is that?” he asked a little uncertainly.

The muted light revealed little but damp ground, still slightly warm from the several hundred gallons of holy water that had recently been boiled away from on top of it.

Jon followed Dean’s gaze downward, frowning as his eyes lit on the object Dean was pointing at, something half-buried in the dirt just to the left of where the sword had embedded itself in the ground. It appeared to be of a dull gray color, a stick, or a stalk or… something.

He knelt to examine the area, an inquisitive frown etched into his forehead as he pushed at the warm earth with his fingertips, gently digging away the dirt from around the object.

“What is it?” Gudrun echoed Dean’s question as Jon continued his excavation of the object.

“It’s—” Jon began, brushing away the last of the earth and holding the object up in front of his face, his eyebrows raised a little in mild surprise. “It’s a feather.”

Somehow Dean managed to whistle sarcastically. “Gee, a feather huh?” he said, shaking his head. “I can barely contain my excitement. That sword of yours is a real find, Frodo.”

“Maybe it’s not just a feather…” Gudrun muttered, gingerly approaching Jon’s position and gazing at the object in his hand.

As far as Dean could tell, it looked like any other feather, maybe ten inches in length, the vanes a weird shade of gray that was almost a non-color. The barbs were slightly darker toward the shaft and almost white at the tips, while the shaft itself was the same mundane gray color, becoming darker toward the calamus.

Jon ran his finger over the hollow tip, his skin coming away stained with a dark flakey substance that Dean almost thought looked like dried blood.

Jon rose to his feet as Gudrun continued to gaze at the feather, and as she drew closer, one finger extended toward the fragile object, Dean swore the thing started to glow.

Gudrun withdrew her finger abruptly, obviously having thought she’d seen the same thing Dean had.

“What the hell…?” Dean murmured, coming up on Gudrun’s shoulder and squinting at the feather.

“I think—” Jon turned to face Dean, the feather now laid out across his palm. “I think perhaps this was meant for you and your brother.”

Jon held the feather out towards Dean, his head bowed almost reverently, and Dean took an involuntary step back, shaking his head slightly.

“I don’t think—why would…?” Dean stammered as he backed away. “I don’t understand…”

Gudrun caught hold of his hand, turning it palm upwards and stretching it out toward Jon. Dean didn’t resist, but he wasn’t particularly happy about the manhandling either.

“I told Sam some time ago,” Gudrun began, “that everyone has a purpose. I think maybe this might have been one of Jon’s. To bring this feather to you and your brother.”

Dean blinked at her. “That’s a pretty crappy purpose, honey,” he pointed out, shaking his head in mild disbelief. “It’s just a feather…”

“Dean!” Gudrun nudged him with her shoulder. “Remember where we’re standing! Remember what lies all around us. You really think this is just a feather?”

Dean wasn’t sure he knew the answer to that one. He was having a hard enough time wrapping his brain around angel bones, but angel feathers too?

“Here.”

Jon had caught hold of his wrist and was pressing the feather into the palm of his hand before he knew what was happening, and Dean’s skin began to tingle where the wispy object touched his flesh.

“Take good care of this, Dean Winchester,” Volsung instructed him. “I think perhaps it might come in useful someday.”

Dean wanted to reiterate the fact that this was a feather and what the hell was he supposed to do with a feather other than maybe stuff a non-existent cushion on his non-existent couch in his non-existent house with it?

But instead he decided to keep his mouth shut for once, taking a closer look at the thing as he raised it up to eye level. Gently, he ran the tip of his finger over the hollow point, but no remnants of any suspicious substances stained his skin as they had Jon’s, and the feather certainly didn’t glow as he thought it had when it had almost come into contact with Gudrun. Maybe he’d just imagined the whole thing.

He didn’t get to ponder any further on the matter, however, as a distant rumbling suddenly started to emanate from the general direction of the Conduit.

“Not again!” Daisy burst out. “This is getting really annoying!”

As the ground beneath their feet began to vibrate, Dean stowed the feather inside his jacket, catching hold of Gudrun while Sam endeavored to pull Jon away from the opening to the abyss.

“I think we need to go,” Sam informed them calmly, the distant rumbling becoming a little more insistent—and a little more rhythmic, as if someone was hammering against the underside of the opening from Hell with a battering ram.

“I think maybe that’s the understatement of the century,” Dean returned, beginning to tug insistently on Gudrun’s arm.

“Wait—Jon!”

“He’s right behind us,” Dean assured her, pushing the Valkyrie in front of him, back towards the entrance to the cave, Zach, Daisy and Maynard all scrambling in the same direction.

Despite his reassurances, Dean glanced over his shoulder all the same, intent on ensuring Sam and Jon were actually following them, just in time to see a jet of flame shoot up out of the pit, backlighting his brother and the Norwegian in such a way as to make them appear as if they were momentarily on fire.

“Sam!” he yelled out, caught between getting Gudrun and the civilians to safety and heading back for his brother.

“We’re okay,” Sam cried back, Dean figuring he probably regretted that reassurance when the ground shuddered right out from beneath his feet and he and Volsung were flung to their knees.

“Sammy!”

Another jet of flame shot up out of the pit. Then another. And another. Huge fountains of fire interlacing with each other as they licked hungrily at the ceiling of the cave.

Sam looked up at his brother, waving him away. “Dean, get Gudrun out of here!” he insisted. “We’re right behind you!”

With that, an explosion shook the entire cavern, rock blasting upwards from an area barely ten feet from where Sam was kneeling, stone and earth raining back down on him and Jon as a pillar of fire shot up from the new hole in the rocky cave floor.

“Holy crap!” Dean cried out. “What the hell…?”

“Probably,” Gudrun agreed. “They’re coming through!”

Dean turned to her as the ground juddered once more beneath their feet and another jet of fire burst through the cave floor shooting rock, earth and angelic remains up into the air before raining them back down onto the humans currently attempting to scramble to safety.

“But the Conduit—” Dean tried to protest, somehow managing to keep himself and the Valkyrie on their feet despite the ground trying very hard to slide right out from under them.

“Whatever they’re using to blast through isn’t just confining itself to the Conduit!” Gudrun yelled at him, the noise of each successive blast of exploding rock almost drowning her out completely. “They’re going to take out this whole mountain if they have to!”

“Well that’s just super!” Dean spat, once again glancing behind him to ensure Sam had managed to get to his feet and was following. “You couldn’t have warned us earlier?”

“I’m not psychic, Dean!” Gudrun returned testily. “You want me to get you next week’s winning Lotto numbers while I’m at it?”

Dean scowled at her. “As a matter of fact I would!” he replied. “You may as well make yourself useful. I mean, what good’s a friggin’ Reaper if you can’t warn us when we’re about to get reaped?”

“You’re not getting reaped, Dean!” Gudrun assured him. “Not on my watch.”

Suddenly reversing their positions, the shield maiden made a grab for Dean’s arm, beginning to drag him toward the cave opening despite his protests.

“We have to go!” Gudrun reminded him. “Look at this place!”

“The remains,” Sam pointed out breathlessly, as he and Jon were flung in Dean and Gudrun’s general direction by another fountain of flame breaking ground behind them, covering them with a mixture of earth, rock and soot. “The pattern’s being obliterated!”

The circle of angel bones was being decimated by the eruptions shooting up out of the earth, the remains tossed up into the air by each successive jet of fire, pieces raining back down onto the ground all around them.

Before Sam could say anything more, a loud crack resounded around the cave, a chasm suddenly yawning open from one side of the ring to the other, bisecting the Conduit and breaking the circle completely.

“They’re destroying the devil’s trap!” Gudrun yelled. “First the lake of holy water, now the bone circle; soon there’ll be nothing to keep the demons trapped in Hell!”

“Except us!” Jon insisted, attempting to rise to his feet, the shining sword held aloft above his head. “We’re the last line of defense!”

“Jeez, give him a sword and he thinks he’s Zorro,” Dean muttered, as the ground lurched beneath him, throwing them once again to their knees as more rocks rained down onto their heads.

The chasm across the center of the cave widened with another ear-shattering crack, and an ominous crimson light emanated from deep within its depths, bathing the walls in scarlet and black until the whole cave seemed to be filled with blood and fire.

As rocks exploded from within the Conduit and tendrils of flame reached up to claw at the ceiling, the sound of screaming once again filled the cave, whipping around them and bouncing off the walls, the sound of a million souls venting their anguish borne on the hot winds escaping Hell and spiraling up out of the abyss.

The entire mountain appeared to be shaking itself apart above them, great slabs of rock breaking free of the burning ceiling and crashing to the ground all around them.

“I suggest a tactical retreat!” Maynard suddenly bellowed from up ahead. “Quickly, while we still can!

Dean followed the direction of the Professor’s stumbling run, his eyes lighting on the tiny sliver of light still visible at the cave’s entrance.

Rock was falling all around them, one large, jagged chunk breaking loose from the ceiling and landing with a crash only a few feet away from the opening, smashing into a hundred pieces and partially blocking their exit.

“We can’t stop a demonic invasion if we’re dead!” Dean pointed out, managing to pull himself and Gudrun to their feet. “We’ve got to get out of here while there’s still an out to get to!”

Gudrun frowned at him for a second. “That—almost made sense,” she replied, grudgingly allowing Dean to begin pulling her toward the exit.

“Maybe all this falling rock will block up the Conduit?” Sam asked hopefully, catching hold of Dean’s arm as the older brother stumbled, the ground continuing to slip-slide beneath them as it tried to shake itself apart.

Gudrun shook her head. “Maybe,” she echoed uncertainly, casting her eyes back in the direction of the Conduit and sucking in a sharp intake of breath.

Dean followed her gaze, squinting in the crimson half-light as shadows began once again to emerge from the Conduit.

“They’re coming,” Gudrun breathed, she and Dean taking a step backwards, even as Dean’s eyes tried to tell him something his brain didn’t seem to want to acknowledge.

“They’re different,” Sam noted. “Not just shadows anymore…”

Dean drew in a breath.

There were hundreds of them, like cockroaches crawling up out of the Gateway to Hell, evil-looking creatures, blacker than shadows, red eyes gleaming in the darkness as they crawled up out of the Pit on their bellies, black leathery wings slowly unfurling on their shoulders as long claws cut into the earth.

“Demons,” Dean breathed softly.

“Corporeal demons,” Sam amended, his hand still clutching at Dean’s arm as they began a slow backward retreat.

Jon stood before them, sword raised. “Go now!” he cried. “I’ll hold them off!”

“Wait!” Gudrun yelled. “Jon, no!”

But Volsung wasn’t listening, despite the incessant juddering of the ground somehow managing to make a charge back down toward the Conduit, the sword flashing brightly above his head, seemingly the only light in the entire cavern.

“Helgi!” Gudrun screamed, and it was all Dean and Sam could do to keep her from running after him, each grabbing an arm and attempting to drag the girl to safety. “Helgi!”

The ground chose that moment to lurch violently sideways, Dean, Sam and Gudrun all thrown together in a heap on the floor as a deafening roar was followed by a rumble and a crash the likes of which Dean had never heard before.

“No!” he heard Daisy screaming. “No, this shouldn’t be happening!”

He shot a glance in the direction of the young archeologist, who was kneeling on the floor, Maynard and Zach struggling to their feet on either side of her.

For a brief second her eyes glittered in the daylight streaming in through the cave entrance, before all light was suddenly extinguished, swallowed up by shadows until her face was bathed only in crimson.

Dean cast his gaze beyond her to the cave entrance, where rock continued to crash down from the ceiling, completely blocking the exit.

“Crap.”

“We’re trapped!” Zach yelled, stating the obvious as blind terror filled his dark eyes.

“Sam!” Dean yelled. “I think we might be in trouble here!”

“Uh—” Sam managed to return. “I think you might be right.”

He was staring at the Conduit, the color draining from his face, and Dean followed his gaze almost reluctantly, not sure he wanted to see what his brother was looking at in the encroaching darkness.

Volsung was no longer visible, the Einherjar having disappeared beneath a writhing sea of black and red. Instead, demonic eyes, tiny pinpricks of blood-red in the utter darkness, were advancing toward them to the incessant accompaniment of twisted screams and leathery wings beating against the hot Hellish air belching up out of the Conduit.

Hell was rising. And they had nowhere to go but Down.

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The Winchester Chronicles