The Wheels On The Bus Chapter Four

The Empty just has so much potential as a character okay and ahhhhhh

iv. 

Jack opens his eyes. 

It's dark around him. Very dark that he doesn't know how he's looking at things, really, because there is still a yawning space in front of him, and he can tell that this yawning space stretches on and on. He can see his hands when he holds them out in front of him, like there's still light around him, but when he looks about, there's nothing. 

He stands. The blackness underneath him ripples. 

“Are you going to tell me what you're doing here?”

Jack turns around. He smiles, inclining his head downward as a greeting. “Hello.”

The Empty, wearing his face, doesn't look as pleased as him. 

“You know I don't like being woken up, Jack,” it says. 

“Weren't you already awake?” he asks. “I thought you haven't been able to sleep since I resurrected Cas.”

“You and your brood have a knack for trouble,” it says. “Talk, before I drown you.”

“I need your help,” Jack says. 

It raises an eyebrow. “I gave you a body, wasn't that enough?”

“You told me to fix things, and I think I might have an idea on how,” he says. “But I need your help.”

“I don't think I'm going to like this, so I'm going to preemptively say no. Goodbye, Jack.” 

“If we don't fix the rifts, then the whole universe is going to collapse,” Jack says. The Empty, having already started to turn away, pauses. “You're part of this universe, aren't you?”

“I am a foundational aspect of it, yes,” it says. “But that is exactly why I have to protect my domain. This universe is already collapsing. Take another pillar away and something will break.”

“Can’t you exist without what’s in The Empty?” Jack asks. “And also, isn’t that kind of defeating the point of being an Empty?”

“You realize being a smartass is going to get you kicked out of here faster?”

Jack grins. He shouldn’t be, but he does it anyway. 

“Explain it to me,” Jack says.

“I don’t have to.”

“Please?”

“Why must you Winchesters always stick your noses into things they don’t belong in,” The Empty says, “You are already in the land of the living. That should be enough. You do not fix something from your end by tearing up another place entirely.”

“We need the angels to balance out Heaven,” Jack says. “It’s fading. And it’s not tearing this place up, it’s just setting the balance right, because Heaven was always supposed to be there, right?”

The Empty turns around to face him, raising an eyebrow. It’s listening. Jack plows on.

“Heaven and Hell are just two of the things that hold up the universe. We’re not destroying this void, we’re just setting the balance right. If we do that, wouldn’t that theoretically strengthen the universe a little?” Jack asks.

The Empty clicks its tongue. “You would strengthen it on one end, but not the other. The defect is not on Heaven’s part - even if it is, in fact, waning in strength. The defect is the connection between Earth and Hell. Fix that.”

“Nothing’s wrong with fixing Heaven along the way,” Jack says.

“Then fix that too, but without my help.”

“Why?” Jack asks. “You want me to fix the universe, but you won’t give up the grace here, even if it will help. That doesn’t make much sense, doesn’t it?”

“Everything has its own time, Jack,” The Empty says, almost sighing. “Everything has to be in someplace when it needs to be, to begin when it needs to, and to end when it needs to. It is the natural order of things. Straying from this causes problems.”

Jack pauses. “Like the universe collapsing in on itself?”

“It’s a cyclical argument,” The Empty says. “If you want, imagine the universe as a big machine - ”

“The boys and I talked about it. The whole ‘universe runs by everything that makes it up’ conversation, I mean,” Jack says. 

“Miraculous of your family to have more brain cells than I expected.”

“It’s just the one, we toss it around,” Jack says. “And we had Michael and Belphegor, really, they know all about this.”

The Empty gives him a curious look. “I...see,” it says. Then, “Jack, have you been working with Sam and Dean?”

“No,” Jack says. “Not lately.”

It sighs. “Do you know that the most effective way - ”

“Is to work with them because the universe will always drop the answers in their laps? Yes, I do,” he says. “But we’re trying to avoid Chuck from finding out that we’re trying to stop him.”

“...who?”

Just to be safe, Jack mouths, ‘God’. The Empty presses its fingers into a steeple, raises it up to its face - right in front of its nose - and takes a deep breath. 

“Of course. Alright. Nice. Very cool,” it says, “Explain to me what you and your friends are trying to achieve, please, and whether or not the idiocy is worth it.”

“We’re going to try to drop hints so that the Winchesters know what we’re dealing with, so that their natural plot convenience - ”

The Empty snorts.

“ - will work out a solution. Hopefully, anyway -  don’t snort.”

“I’m just appreciative of the fact that I’m not the only one suffering through this whole shitshow. I’ve had a lot to catch up with ever since I’ve woken up. Continue.”

“While that’s going on, we’re gonna try to deal with the mess that’s going on with the ghosts and the demons loose,” Jack says. “We might not have enough hunters.”

“But angels might do the trick?”

“Yes,” Jack says. “And we’re gonna try to rally the demons too, in case that falls through, and in case you don’t agree. But we’re not sure if we’re going to have much luck with that.”

The Empty nods. “Mm. Me neither.”

“Yeah.” Jack shifts, awkward. “So?”

“So, what?”

“Will you help?”

“No.”

“What? Why?”

“There is a balance to be kept, Jack.” The Empty suddenly lifts a cane that Jack’s sure hadn’t been in its hand before. It taps the end of it to the space where its feet are resting, and the blackness underneath it ripples. “All these angels’ deaths are within the bounds of the universe’s structural integrity. If they were not, it would have caved in on itself by now.”

Jack splutters. “So - so what, Heaven’s really just supposed to be near death or something?”

“Yes, if you haven’t heard, it’s the concept of actions having consequences,” The Empty says. “The universe honors that.”

“But - ” Jack grapples for something. Anything. 

Fate exists, that much is true, at least in the form of Chuck writing out his horrible stories and having them happen. It’s the script. It’s the play that’s set in front of them, and if they deviate from the script then the guys behind the scenes are going to try to set them back on track as much as they can. Jack only has a bigger semblance of freedom because the spotlight isn’t on him. He’s not a main character. He’s just a side tool.

“But aren’t they just side characters?” he asks. The Empty tilts its head. “Aren’t they just there to be in the background, like, less important than Sam and Dean? There has to be a way to bring them back without complications.”

The Empty is silent for a moment. It looks down, tapping the cane down with a click again. “I see,” it says. Jack frowns, and then suddenly The Empty isn’t in front of him anymore.

“Let me explain something, Jack,” it says. Jack whirls around to see that it’s behind him now, walking away, cane clicking on the water with an echo and a ripple. It stops walking. Then it lifts the cane and tilts it forward so that its hand slides down to the cane’s other end. Very slowly, it touches the handle - it looks like a carving of two beings, one in silver, the other in black, both intertwined - onto the black surface.

The floor lights up, starting from the point of contact and spreading out. Jack takes a step back in surprise, and he stares as he looks down at the faint lights underneath him. They look like stars. 

Angels, he realizes. And demons. Latent energy, Michael had said. They’re all energy, in this place.

“This universe is a farce and a playhouse,” The Empty says. “But it is still a universe, and it has rules.”

It turns to him. It’s still wearing his face, but the expression on it is blank, in a way he’s never seen himself do in a mirror before. Belphegor always looks carefully bored, very thinly guarded so no one ever really knows what he’s thinking, even if everyone knows he’s just acting. Jack wears his emotions on his sleeve. The Empty looks like a parent explaining something incredibly unfortunate to its child.

Oh. 

It looks like how people who can’t do anything look like, Jack realizes.

“A universe is made up of several things. One, a substance to compose it. Two, a force to keep it evolving. Three, a sink to accept the evolution,” it says, and then pauses. “In simple terms, it needs whatever is going to make up everything in it, whatever is going to keep it moving and living and changing so that it can even be a universe, and the result of this living and changing.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“Do you know how the universe was created?”

Jack thinks through everything he’s read. “Yes.”

“Before that, there was wind and chaos,” The Empty says. “And water.”

Jack looks down. His footsteps cause tiny ripples on where he’s standing. Oh. Oh. 

“The state of nothing,” The Empty says. “And then from the nothing came the something. Humans called it the Big Bang, I believe, and from it came everything in existence.”

A substance to compose it. Stardust. Atoms. The same things breaking and forming over and over and over again. Jack remembers reading about it in the bunker library. 

“Things were formed from it, shaped and guided and created,” The Empty says. “But a self-regulating universe has to have something that keeps it moving. Things aren’t supposed to stay stagnant, otherwise, what you’ll have is just an empty dollhouse. Wouldn’t be self-regulating otherwise. It doesn’t have to be one thing either. This universe has plenty of things that keeps it moving.” The Empty points down to the water. “Heaven. Hell. Chaos. Free will.”

Jack looks up.

“But therein lies the catch,” The Empty says. “Because this universe is still a story, as you say, so that factors in it too, and how can all these things exist while still being controlled? When it’s paradoxical?”

“Free will,” Jack mumbles. “The play is just scenarios laid in front of people and free will is how they choose their paths.”

“It’s like a game.” The Empty nods. “But a game has rules and a universe has rules to follow. Rules of logic. Rules of structural integrity. If a body fails, whatever it used to be dies. And if it dies, then it goes to where its energy is going to be kept and recycled and continue to fuel the universe, thus feeding the neverending machine.” 

“The sink,” Jack says. “The result.”

“Exactly. You can hardly do something and not expect consequences,” The Empty says. “These places, these sinks, they have governing bodies to keep them in line, even if they may not always be very obvious. Purgatory, for example. Monsters are kept in line by creating this free-for-all environment. If they get bored, well, one way or another, predator or prey will fall on their path.”

Jack nods, letting the information sink in.

“Hell is Hell, Heaven is Heaven,” The Empty says. It casts its eyes down again. For a moment, Jack sees its eyes change. They look like black holes. Not the usual ink dark of demon eyes. Like black holes. Like nothing could ever get away from them. “The Empty is me. This is my responsibility. This is under my accountability. If I don’t play my role in this universe - ”

“It’ll collapse.”

“Why do you think Heaven is in the shape that it is?” The Empty asks. “It takes one thing. One decision. One tiny thing that ricochets and suddenly everything is spiralling out of control. Heaven was supposed to be a pillar of this universe, but angels like Castiel and Gabriel and Balthazar and Anael existed, and then everything went to shit. And they couldn’t fall back on the safety net of them being important to the universe because of free will.”

“Consequence.”

“We’d be living like animals without it.” The Empty shrugs. “To my knowledge, everyone on your side of existence already does.”

“Then why did you throw Castiel down?” Jack asks. “Why throw me down?”

“A calculated risk,” The Empty says. “And your dad was annoying the shit out of me.”

Jack snorts this time.

“You were a special case. I exist in this universe as well. I would like to keep on doing so,” it says. “And so you were thrown down, the most powerful weapon this universe has.”

Jack raises an eyebrow. “I’m what?”

“You’re the only living nephilim on Earth,” The Empty says. “If there was another one matching your abilities, I wouldn’t have bothered with you.”

“Wow. I thought I was special.”

The Empty laughs. Maybe Jack’s been hanging out too much with Belphegor and Adam. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, boy, you were the most convenient thing within reach,” it says. It sobers up a minute later. “If I give you all the angels, then you could wreak havoc all over creation. There’s a reason why most of them are dead. Infighting. War. Generally being pompous asses, I’m also told, not to mention tight sticklers to their Father’s plan. Don’t want to see how that goes down for you.”

Jack winces. It’s right. If they resurrect the angels, many of them might side with Chuck instead. 

But. 

“But we have Michael,” he says. “He used to lead Heaven.”

“You have a broken archangel who’s only really half an archangel at the moment,” The Empty says. “Castiel used to lead a garrison. Where’s his authority now?”

Jack shuts his mouth. 

“These are not things you can simply do on a whim, Jack Kline.” The Empty sighs again. “You risk plenty of things with every action you take. The universe is not in a good place to regulate itself right now, you cannot trust it to keep on doing things for the sake of itself when it can barely stand on its own two feet.” The Empty pauses. “Not to mention...Chuck...will likely notice the surge of angels suddenly returning.”

Something goes off in Jack’s brain. Something very loud and very bright, and sounds suspiciously like an oven going ding! but that might be because that’s the sound effect they use for lightbulb moments in the cartoons he and Belphegor watch when they’re bored.

The universe can barely stand on its own two feet. If they resurrect the angels, they can give it a bit more strength and time, but they just have to make sure to be able to wrangle and convince the feathered bastards to actually help. They need a lot more insurance than just Michael. And they need to find a way to make sure Chuck doesn’t notice. 

He doesn’t have a game plan right now, but. 

But he has this. 

He looks up at The Empty with a slight amount of awe. It gives him a wry smile that’s barely there for the smallest of seconds.

“Good luck with your world-saving, Jack Kline,” The Empty says. It taps its cane on the floor. The lights go out. “Hopefully you’ll come up with something much better soon.”

Sneaky bastard. Jack grins.

“I’ll try,” he says. He starts to close his eyes, intent on focusing on yanking himself out of the place, but then snaps them back open. “Hey.”

“Yes?”

“If Sam and Dean ask you to help, would you say yes?”

The Empty laughs again, like it’s the funniest thing it’s heard in years. It likely is. “I’m not an idiot, Jack,” it says, but that wry smile is back again. “But if the universe just happens to want to survive that bad, who am I to say no, right? Humans are the ones who are supposed to have free will. Everything else is arguable, but the concrete pillars of the universe? Doubtful.”

“Oh god, you’re a bastard like the rest of us.”

“Shoo on before you’re late to kindergarten,” it says. “Get off my lawn.”

Jack laughs. “See you around then, old thing.”

And then he wakes up.