The Wheels On The Bus Chapter 22

Despite their best efforts to make sure that the apocalypse is under wraps, it’s inevitable that their numbers wouldn’t be enough to keep track of everything. Even with Ketch’s contacts, it’s a far cry from the level they ideally want to be performing at. Hell being at their disposal would have been useful, but with Belphegor out for the count, it’s currently not an option.

Thus, they’re left with attempting to do damage control from afar and keeping watch in shifts so someone’s always monitoring social media trends and trawling the sewers of the internet in case some poor rando’s stumbled over something. Thankfully, they’ve got enough bored civilians who’ve volunteered to help with internet watch.

By a stroke of luck (or just their demon’s extreme stubbornness even when semi-comatose), Hell still remains pacified and under control, so Sam gives the go for the civilians to be able to visit their homes again, provided they check in at certain hours. Every civilian is assigned a number, and certain numbers are to call in at certain hours, just to make sure Chuck hasn’t snatched anyone off the street. Volunteers for the kitchen and their little call center are still to show up in the school, just for the safety of the information they’re gathering. School, obviously, is still out, but with the apocalypse looming, no one’s really keen on it anyway. 

Sam gives them one rule for their return to the city: look after each other.

It’s still the first day, but there’s a hopeful air around the school as everyone starts moving out, packing what few belongings they’d taken with them to the school. People are cleaning up as they go, the gym slowly emptying as its residents leave one by one. 

It’s like the whole debacle is over, almost, but everyone knows better than to fall for the illusion. They’re still in the thick of it, and it’s going to take everyone’s help to put an end to it. 

It’s this understanding that finds Jack waking up to a blanket draped over him, a covered plate of food and a glass of orange juice placed on the desk beside Belphegor’s desk. He’d fallen asleep, sometime in the early dawn after the other kids had retired to their rooms, exhausted from hours of swapping stories. His hand is still on Belphegor’s pillow, although he’s no longer touching his temple. His friend is still asleep, thankfully, slowly recovering his strength. 

Jack sits up, rolling his shoulders back and wincing at the burn in his muscles when he does so. His neck hurts, and his arm - which had been outstretched the whole night - feels sore. 

But someone’s been kind enough to leave him some food. That’s nice. 

He makes quick work of his breakfast before checking up on Belphegor again, placing a hand on his forehead to see if his exhaustion has escalated to a fever. It hasn’t, and Jack leaves him with one last pulse of Grace before taking his tray and making his way to the kitchen. The halls are busy, so he has to carefully weave his way around people, muttering, “Excuse me,” the whole time, until he reaches the kitchen. 

“Kline,” one of the cooks says as he steps inside. Jack doesn’t recognize her, but she clearly does. Maybe she’d remembered him from the post-ghost-attack assembly. “How’s the demon?”

“Still out cold,” he says. “But he’s not getting worse.”

“That’s good to hear,” she says. Jack smiles a little. Leave it to people to worry about a demon, of all people. “Do you need seconds?”

“Oh, no thank you, I’m good,” he says. 

She motions to the sink. “Drop those off there, then.”

“Thanks,” he says, and moves to do so.

It’s nice to not have his existence be a secret, he thinks suddenly. It feels a lot like being in apocalypse world again, having friends and people who treated you like an actual person. 

He barely catches himself from spacing out and nods in thanks again as he leaves the room. He’s got to check up on Belphegor yet again, just to make sure his headaches haven’t returned, since they always seemed to come back to him quickly. 

Bel’s still deeply asleep when Jack peeks in, though, so gives himself a few minutes to wander around. He’ll come back in an hour or so to check back in, but he needs to stretch his legs. 

They’re still waiting for any news on the Amara front, so for now, he’s got nothing much to do but wait. If the Shedim find Amara and they can convince her to be on their side, then they’re going to have to tackle their next problem of where the hell they’re going to stage their smackdown with Chuck - if they can even coordinate it and it’s not just going to happen spontaneously, because you never really know with these things - but until then, it’s just nervous waiting. 

He wonders where Michael is right now, if he’s okay. He’s got to be, he’s not the Prince of the Heavenly Hosts for nothing, but Jack can’t help it. He’s still a friend, after all. 

There’s a lot less people in the school gardens, so he makes his way there, basking in the cool morning air. It’s early enough that there’s still dew on the grass, and it’s still a little foggy. He takes a seat on the ground and takes a deep breath, before deciding that’s not enough and just lies down, arms outstretched. 

It feels nice. This feels nice. The world is ending, but this feels relaxing. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Giving into my frog brain’s urge to just lie down and stare at the sky,” Jack says. “Hey, Adam.”

“Hey,” Adam says, taking a seat beside him. “You had any breakfast yet?”

“I did,” he says.

“Good.” Adam nods. “How’s Bel?”

“Still asleep.”

“Even without your help?”

“Yeah.”

“Good for him, then,” he says. “Although we probably won’t get any updates on the Shedim.”

“Maybe he’ll wake up soon,” Jack says. 

Adam’s quiet. 

“Something wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Adam says. “I’ve just got a bad feeling.”

Jack’s learned in the past few years to never ignore bad feelings. He frowns slightly, concerned. “About what?”

“Belphegor passing out,” he says. “Like, yeah, duh, I know that’s not good, but something still feels off.”

Jack hums. Above them, a crow flies by. 

“You wanna go on a walk around town?” Adam asks. “Everyone’s finally allowed to go back, since Hell’s under control now.”

“Oh, that’s why everyone’s busy,” Jack says. “Are we allowed to go out?”

“We don’t have anything else to do,” Adam says. “Well, I still have to help Dean, but it’s still early in the morning. We could use a change in scenery.”

Jack thinks it over for a moment, but Adam’s got a point - as he always does - and now that his friend points it out, it was getting a little stuffy being in the school all the time. He nods, sitting up. 

“Yeah, let’s go,” he says.

Adam’s still in his makeshift pajamas, and Jack’s still in the same clothes he was in yesterday, but they climb over the school fence and make their way into town. 

It’s quiet. 

Not the town, as it’s bustling with people finally making their way back to their houses, but neither of them are saying anything. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s just...quiet. 

Jack realizes then that neither he nor Adam really start the conversation in their friend group. 

“It was always those two, huh,” Adam says, catching onto the same thing Jack’s thinking. “If Michael’s not telling us what not to do, Belphegor’s spouting nonsense.”

“Yeah,” Jack says. “Kinda quiet not having people to react to.”

Adam nods. A weary look passes on his face. He shooes it off silently, even though Jack knows it’s taking a lot out of him to do so. It’s too early in the morning for either of them to act emotionally stable.

All around the streets, there’s ghosts, some in clusters, a few just standing on their own, dotting about the road. The farther away they get from the school, the less crowded it becomes, and Jack lets out a huff, suddenly realizing he’d felt suffocated being surrounded by so many people, alive or not.

All the ghosts are still frozen, staring off into nothing. As Jack passes by a group of them, he swears he can see one of them looking at him at the corner of their eye. 

He hurries his steps a little. 

“At least the kids are having fun,” Adam notes, watching a group of kids trying to take photos with a group of frozen ghosts. One of them snaps the photo on their phone and then beckons the others over to see if the camera had caught the ghost. 

“No way!” one of them says. They’re successful, then.

Jack laughs. 

Both of them continue shambling forward, hands stuffed into their pockets to protect their hands from the morning chill, just watching everyone return to their lives as best as they can. 

“Sam says he’s got people guarding the cemetery,” Adam says. “In case anyone gets any ideas about jumping into Hell.”

“That’s a good idea,” Jack says, watching the group of children from earlier attempt to put a hat on one of the ghosts, and then gasping in awe as the hat stays. 

“At least everyone’s being cooperative,” Adam says. “Or, most of them are, anyway.”

Jack’s been fortunate enough to not have any unpleasant interactions with their more stubborn civilians, but he winces nevertheless. 

The chatter around them continues to grow as the morning rolls on - it’s so mundane, Jack thinks, juxtaposed against the backdrop of the end of the world, that it’s almost surreal. But these are all these people have, and he knows that. Not all of them are Sam and Dean Winchester. Not all of them are heroes. Not all of them are main characters in this universe, they’re just world building fodder. 

He thinks back to what Adam had said, during the ghost attack. They all can’t be Sam and Dean, and while Sam and Dean worry about the end of the world and make main character choices, these people don’t have that luxury or misfortune. They have their own lives, in their own little bubbles, and that’s as far as their influence extends. The universe won’t ever make coincidences for them to ensure its survival, and it won’t cater to them if danger presents itself, because they’re inconsequential to the universe’s structure. 

And that’s - 

“Hey, this might be jinxing it,” Adam says. “But what do you wanna do when this is over?”

Jack makes a face. “That is jinxing it, that’s what everyone in movies says before they die.”

“Shut up, it’s the end of the world, we might all die,” Adam says. “But for real.”

“I mean, what I always do,” Jack says. “I’d just go back to normal life.”

Adam lifts an eyebrow, and the questioning expression on his face reminds Jack so much of Dean that he remembers that they’re half brothers. He forgets sometimes. Adam feels more like his brother than his uncle.

“I mean, if - when we win,” Adam says. “It’s over. The Winchester Gospels are over. There’s no need for all of this anymore.” He motions around him. “Sure, there’s gonna be the usual cause-and-effect of the universe, so monster attacks are still gonna exist, there’s still gonna be ghosts - but, you know.” He shrugs. “Maybe it won’t be as…”

“Extravagant?”

“And flashy,” Adam says. “The story’s over, after all.”

Jack glances at the houses, with people sitting on their porches waiting for other people to open their doors as they fumble with their keys. 

“Maybe,” Jack says. “But it’ll still exist.”

“But you don’t have to subscribe to it, you know,” Adam says. “We’re...part of the Gospels, after all. We were put here by Chuck because of the Winchesters, and it sort of ping pongs back and forth every time he decides on a new plotline or whatever, but if Chuck’s gone, then can’t we just do whatever the fuck we want? No plot to abide by, no surprises, no recurring character thing?”

“The universe can just exist and we can just live in it?”

“Yeah,” Adam says. “Like normal people. In a normal world. Because this is our world’s normal. Hell, maybe everyone else’s normal isn’t normal because this universe was built to be for the Winchesters and the Winchesters’ existence means…”

“The supernatural,” Jack says. “Michael would debate you.”

“Michael’s not here, you have to fill his shoes,” Adam jokes. “And Bel’s.”

Jack sticks out his tongue, maturely. “I don’t wanna, you people talk around in circles a lot.”

“That’s what makes it fun,” Adam says. Both of them come across a bench, so he sits down. Jack takes the space beside him. “Thinking about how fucked up the circumstances of us existing actually are.”

Jack hums, nodding. 

If he can just exist in the universe, no plot to follow, nothing dictating where he’s supposed to come in or what he’s supposed to do or stand for…

“What if we could stay here?” Jack asks.

“In this town?”

“Yeah, people already know what we are, who we are,” Jack says. “They don’t know we’re a show for an audience of one, sure, but they know us. They’re not gonna freak out over us or anything.”

Adam looks around thoughtfully. “A lot of them are friendly.”

“Yeah,” Jack says. “If we could stay here, would you?”

After a while, Adam smiles. “Yeah, probably,” he says. “Why not? Get a job here, go to a local college, finally get a degree here. They already know about the supernatural stuff.”

“No more hiding out a bunker.”

“That would be nice,” Adam says. He pauses. “And now we really do sound like we’re jinxing it.”

Jack laughs, punching his shoulder lightly. 

They look around the town for a little while. The sun is rising, the temperature rising with it, but they’ve got a few minutes before it gets properly hot. 

“Staying here, huh?” someone says, taking a seat beside them. Adam scoots over to make room for them. 

It’s a young woman, hair pulled back in a ponytail, with a pillow in hand. Jack looks behind him. The couple who owns the house is still trying to get their door open, arguing amongst themselves. She’s probably waiting for them to get it over with.

“Keys won’t work?” Adam asks. 

“They’re trying to figure out which one works,” she says, laughing. “My legs were getting tired.”

“You guys need help?” Jack asks.

“They’ll figure it out. No need to trouble yourself.” The woman waves a hand. “What brings you guys here, though, uh…?” She pauses, staring at them. “Milligan and Kline, right?”

“Yeah,” Adam says.

“I’m fine with Jack,” Jack says. “We wanted to stretch our legs.”

“We were getting cabin fever,” Adam says. “Which is stupid in the middle of the apocalypse, but, it happened.”

The woman laughs. “How’s everything back there, by the way?”

“Busy. Everyone’s still moving out,” Adam says. “And we’ve still got a full day of operations ahead of us after.”

“It’ll be a lot quieter,” Jack says. “And a lot less crowded.”

“Yeah, but Sam’s still getting everyone to check in. He worries like that,” Adam says.

“Over everyone?”

“Listen, I may not know him all that well,” Adam says. “But ask Sam Winchester not who he should worry about but if he can worry about them, and the answer is almost always yes.”

“He’s got a big heart,” Jack says. “That’s why he’s really tall, gotta make room for all that heart. He’s like Tarrare, but instead of stomach, it’s 90% heart.”

Adam covers his mouth to stop his laughter, but ends up laughing his head off anyway.

“I’m not surprised, though,” Jack says, even as Adam’s still laughing. “Why not if he can afford to, after all?”

“I guess,” the woman says. “It’s just surprising, I guess.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “Like, earthquakes and hurricanes, it’s always about the concept of the safety of everyone. Sure, people worry, but it’s this vague idea, you know?”

Adam, who’s finally sobered from his mirth, nods. “I get that,” he says. “It’s not bad, it’s just - “

“Kinda distant.”

“Yeah,” Adam says. “I think it’s that. With Sam, I mean, but if the guy can go an extra mile, he’ll do two.” 

“He’s like that,” Jack says, smiling fondly. Sam had been one of the first people to ever even show compassion for him, even when he was still, to everyone else Lucifer’s Son. 

Adam nods. “So if he can get everyone to individually check in so he can make sure they’re all present at the post-apocalypse roll call, the guy damn well will.”

The woman leans back in her seat, looking up at the sky. “That’s a big ask, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Adam says. “Sam does it anyway. Not to say everyone else doesn’t, but he’s just the more empathetic out of all of us, you know?”

“I think it balances out, somewhat,” Jack says. “When Dean’s goal-focused. Sam takes care of everyone while Dean takes care of the problem.”

“Cas is our voice of reason.” Adam snickers. “Because we all know Rowena isn’t.”

Jack laughs along with him. The woman, although not getting the joke, smiles along. 

“Thanks,” the woman says, “For taking care of everyone, I mean. It’s a lot, but you guys are still trying anyway.”

“Everyone’s just getting dragged into something they shouldn’t have been,” Adam says. “Of course we’d help.”

“Yeah, if we can help, why not?” Jack says, grinning. “Learned that from the best, after all.”

“Thank - uhh, fuck that they taught you something worthwhile,” Adam says. Jack shoves his arm lightly again. 

The woman’s smile is warm, fond, like she’s watching old friends instead of strangers. Something about her changes, Jack sees, like a switch getting flipped off, and suddenly he realizes that she doesn’t look like any of their civilians from the school, and she’s not holding a pillow, but a rather expensive-looking handbag. 

No, she stands out even in her simple shirt and pants, like she’s almost high definition against the backdrop of the world. She smiles at him wider, knowing that he’s noticed the sheer power that’s coming off her in waves. 

Adam, beside him, is on high alert, having noticed the same thing. 

“It’s very nice to meet you,” the woman says, “I’ve heard a few invitations from you here and there, but I just had to meet you boys first.” 

She offers them her hand, still smiling brightly. “My name’s Amara.”

-

Michael is exhausted. 

There isn’t a lot that gets him to admit that, but his situation is unprecedented, so it’s really no surprise it’s come to this. 

He looks around his immediate area, checking, just in case his father has followed him here, but he can’t sense him anywhere. 

With a small sigh, he allows himself to sit down, get a moment of rest. It won’t do him any good to burn himself out and get himself cornered because he’s gotten too tired to move. Might as well get his rest on the go, even for just a few minutes. Still, he makes sure to stay alert, listening to his surroundings intently. 

It’s nothing he’s not used to. He used to be a soldier, after all. 

He closes his eyes for a moment. Idly, he wonders how the others are doing. Adam’s no fool - even if Belphegor were to fumble with what to do with the Crook out of any sort of misplaced guilt, Adam would know exactly what Michael would want them to do, which was to continue with their objective. The end of the world is at stake. Him having to run around for a little while isn’t too big a price to pay for that. 

Hopefully they’re doing well. Hopefully they aren’t getting themselves into trouble.

There’s a sharp spike of power to his left, despite there being no noise to indicate anyone getting physically close to him. In the second it takes him to register this, he’s already on his feet, summoning his sword - a long flat golden blade with an ornately decorated hilt, unlike the usual angel blades of his brethren - and whirling around to point it to the throat of whoever’s gotten near him. 

The demon blinks at him.

“Shedim,” he says. 

“Hi,” the demon says. 

“What brings you here?” Michael asks, still not lowering his weapon even when the demon’s stance remains relaxed, and there’s no indication of their infernal energy rearing up for a fight. 

“Missing Persons Search Party,” they say, cracking a grin that almost looks familiar, but just happens to be on the wrong face. “How’ve you been, Mr. Prince of the Heavenly Hosts?”

“Significantly more irritated with you around.”

“Aww, you wound me,” the demon says, dramatically placing their hands over their host’s heart. They pause, eye twitching and a small frown flickering over their expression, but it’s gone in an instant, replaced with a cool flat look of indifference as they straighten and stare up at him. “Belphegor sends his regards.”

“So the idiot did it?”

The demon looks offended, for a reason he can’t pinpoint. “Of course,” they say. “Everyone in the school is safe. We’re looking for the Darkness right now.”

Michael runs the situation in his head. Of course. If they wanted to have enough fighting power against his father, then it would be best to get the Darkness on their side. He’s not sure they can pull it off, but he’s not around to offer his input to them either, so he can’t really do anything. All he can do is keep running  and hope they know what the fuck they’re doing. 

Although - 

“Can you take a message back to Belphegor?” he asks, lowering his weapon.

“Depends on what it is,” the demon says.

“Provided it’s appropriate, you have the ability to, yes?”

“You’re a smartass.”

“Thank you, I’ve been practicing,” he says. 

“Yeah, sure,” the demon says, waving a hand. “What have you got for me, Mike?”

Michael makes sure to keep his voice low as he ventures a step closer, whispering a secret to the demon. The demon, thankfully, doesn’t make any moves to attack him, listening intently instead.

And then he steps back, raising his sword again. 

“You might want to move fast,” he says, grinning. “Because I’ve still got things to do around here.”

“Dramatic bitch,” the demon says, rolling their eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.”

They take a step back, and Michael drives his Grace into his raised sword. 

There’s a flash of bright light.