Beat the Reaper, Chapter 2
Jun. 28th, 2012 01:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: Beat the Reaper, Chapter 2 (of 2)
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Sam, Dean, Death, Castiel
Warnings: Cursing. OFC: she’s not paired with anyone, but if that’s the kind of think you hate, you’ll hate that kind of thing. Also, some pretty dark humor in this one.
Word Count: 10,000 total
Summary: Someone is meddling with the Reapers. Dean gets to check up on a childhood idol to find out why.
Notes: I like SPN's version of Death, so I wrote him a little bit of a backstory. Also, my apologies to the Firesign Theater.
Chapter 2
“I dunno, Dean,” said Sam. “If the old man is anything like his son, we couldn’t get anything out of him! He wouldn’t even admit sulfur smelled like sulfur.”
“I think we’ll be OK,” said Dean.
“You sure about this? Maybe we should just let the reapers handle it from here,” said Sam, eying his brother. “Or do you just want to get your little wind up motorcycle thing autographed?” asked Sam.
“Come on, Sammy! Rebus Knebus! The original. He’s my idol!”
“Judging from his son, he’s also a complete asshat. And that address she gave, it’s a long drive,” sighed Sam as they reached the Impala.
“It’ll be great!” said Dean, hopping in and slamming the door. “The open road! You know, like Easy Rider.”
“That didn’t end well,” said Sam. “And the Impala isn’t a motorcycle!”
“No, it’s not! It’s an automobile!” supplied the rumpled angel who had just appeared in the back seat.
“Very good, Cas,” grumbled Dean.
“Cas!” said Sam, rather more enthusiastically. “To what do we owe this visit?”
“I wanted to know if Dean needed help with the reaper case I gave him.”
“I think we’re OK, Cas. Unless you wanna grab some sandwiches?” said Dean.
“Yeah, actually Cas, we need you to teleport us to Moose Jaw, Montana,” said Sam.
“Sammy!” warned Dean, but it was too late.
The Impala suddenly appeared alongside a country backroad. The passenger door wrenched open, and Sam staggered out, retching.
“Yeah, get far away from the car, Sammy,” advised Dean, watching his brother. “That’s what it did to me the first few times too,” he said, getting out.
Castiel was beside Sam now, holding a platter out to him. “Would you like your sandwiches now or later?” he asked.
“Uhhhh,” moaned Sam, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Later?”
“Cas?” said Dean.
“Yes, Dean?
“No sandwich. Damp towel,” said Dean, pointing at Sam.
“Oh. All right,” said Castiel. He disappeared briefly, and then popped up again, now proffering said object to Sam, who immediately buried his face in it.
“Looks like you’re in luck,” said Dean, consulting his phone. “Knebus’ place is in walking distance from here.” He pointed. “That way.”
“That house?” asked Castiel, who seemed confused. Of course, Castiel often seemed confused.
“Well, according to my GPS,” said Dean.
“There is a dead man who lives there,” said Castiel.
“Wait, he croaked and we missed him! Son of a bitch!” said Dean. “Come on!” he urged, increasing his pace.
They soon made their way to an isolated farm house. It didn’t appear that anyone had bothered to farm there for decades. Dean noticed immediately there was an outbuilding that housed several motorcycles, but all of them looked to be disused as well. After attempting to peek into several heavily curtained windows with no luck, Dean went right up to the front too ring the doorbell. To his surprise, there was noise: slow, shuffling footsteps, and a squeaking, like something mechanical.
After a moment or two, the front door opened, and a very, very bent old man appeared behind the screen door, leaning heavily on a cane. He was wearing an oxygen mask, and dragged behind him an oxygen tank, on a wheeled cart with one squeaking wheel.
“Uh. Mr. Knebus?” asked Dean.
The old man removed the mask. “Yes,” he wheezed.
“Uh. I’m Dean, and this is my brother Sam, and our friend Cas. We’re all big fans, sir. Big, big fans.”
“Fans?” asked the old man.
“Yeah. My dad took me to one of your jumps. It was years ago-?”
“Which one?” asked Knebus Senior.
“Oh, it was over in Swamp Creek!” said Dean, warming to the subject. “You had all these RVs lined up, and I remember they dud a pit of fire!”
“Swamp Creek. The pit of fire,” whispered the old man. “Yes, one of my favorites. One of my best.”
“It was awesome,” said Dean lamely, just realizing that he hadn’t bothered to come up with a better cover story.
“Well. Why don’t you come in for a spell. Don’t get many visitors these days,” wheezed Knebus, opening the screen door. Dean didn’t have to be asked twice. They followed the old man as he shuffled into his house. It was dim inside, as there weren’t many lights on, and all of the windows were blacked out with heavy curtains, but you could still see Knebus’ motorcycle jumping memorabilia spread throughout the small living room.
“We just saw your son,” said Sam, settling himself on a couch. “The other day.”
“Oh,” said Knebus. He shot Sam an inscrutable glance. “We don’t talk. Not any more.”
“Oh. Uh, I’m sorry,” said Sam.
Castiel had remained standing. “Rebus Knebus, you cheated Death,” he said.
“Many a time,” said Knebus, painfully easing himself down in into a chair. “I was the man who defied death!”
“No. You did not meet your maker at the appointed time,” said Castiel, narrowing his eyes at Knebus.”
“Cas,” said Dean.
“Yes, Dean?”
“Maybe it’s time for sandwiches now?” suggested Dean.
The angel’s expression suddenly transformed. He was not there, and then he was again. “Would you like a sandwich?” he asked Knebus, holding out a platter of them to the old stunt rider.
Knebus looked at Sam and Dean, momentarily confused. “Well, don’t mind as I do. I guess. Is this egg salad?”
“Yes, it is particularly satisfying,” said Castiel. “For human food.”
“You’re not from around here, are you, boy?” Knebus asked Castiel as he grabbed the sandwich.
“No,” began Castiel. “I am Castiel-“
“He’s, uh, from North Dakota,” interjected Dean.
“Ahhhh!” said Knebus, nodding sagely.
“Sir,” said Sam, holding his stomach and waving away the sandwich tray. “Can you tell us anything about this book?” he asked, extracting the arcane tome he had stolen from Knebus Jr. from his messenger bag and setting it on the coffee table.
Knebus paused in mid egg-salad-bite. “Oh. You found it. Did he have it?”
“Did who have it?” asked Dean.
“I warned him, I did,” said Knebus, waving his sandwich, egg salad making little splatters around him.
“Warned who?” asked Sam.
“Look at me!” wheezed Knebus, pulling at his cart of oxygen. “I’m well past time to go. But I sent him away. I sent him away, and now I’m a broken down old man, no one to take me home.”
Dean leaned forward, his roast beef sandwich nearly forgotten. “Who did you send away, Mr. Knebus?” he asked quietly.
“He banished his death,” said Castiel, who was standing in judgment with a sandwich platter.
“I did. I did, saints forgive me,” sobbed Knebus, tears now streaming down his lined face.
“Oh, hey, it’s gonna be OK,” said Sam, who didn’t know what else to say, but figured he might try, as Dean was looking terrified at the sudden expression of emotion. Sam felt a tapping on his shoulder, and Castiel handed him over an antique looking lacy handkerchief. Sam offered the handkerchief to Knebus, who blew his nose into it in a very sloppy, noisy way. Knebus handed the damp, snotty handkerchief back to Sam, who, holding it gingerly on one corner, winced and passed it back to Castiel.
“You wanna start from the beginning?” Sam asked.
“I was a small time daredevil. Just did local fairs, that kind of thing,” said Knebus, who seemed terribly out of breath following his outburst, as he occasionally paused to put the mask to his face and suck in oxygen. “I had me a few spills, a few close calls. And then there was one, I was going for a new record. I just jumped over motorcycles at that time. I went off the ramp wrong, landed wrong, everything that could happen. Well, I woke up in the hospital, but just before I went under, I swore I saw him in the crowd.”
“Saw who?” asked Sam.
“The man in black. The one come for me. I knew he was mine, knew he was now looking over my shoulder.”
“So what did you do?” asked Dean, who thought he knew the answer.
“I found this book – that book right there – at a church basement sale. I didn’t believe in witches and spells and the like, but the late wife used to cook, and it seemed a lot like a cookbook.”
“You could read it?” asked Dean.
Knebus actually laughed, a dry death rattle of mirth. “Latin! The nuns woulda pounded me if I wasn’t able to read my Latin. Good Catholic boy. Anyway, it was pretty clear, if you wanted to chase away Death, there were some things to buy and words to say. I had a family to support, remember, a wife and a little boy. I couldn’t let them take me away before my time!”
“It was your time. It was written,” said Castiel.
“Cas,” shushed Dean.
“No man may say when it is his time!” insisted the angel, chomping down on a cheese sandwich. “It is arrogan’!” he smacked.
“Well, I’ve paid my price,” sighed Knebus, holding the mask to his face. “So, I did my piece, and it summoned these three odd fellows. Weird look, like not from around here. Cat eyes, they had. Green cat eyes in the moonlight.”
“What happened to them? Do you know?” asked Sam.
“They ran off. But they got him. I knew they did. Couldn’t feel him looking over my shoulder no more. Never did see my man in black again.”
The men were silent for a moment, the only sound Knebus gasping through the oxygen mask.
“So how did your son find the book?” Sam finally asked.
Knebus sighed deeply. It seemed the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “I warned him. Warned him time and time again. But the boy wanted to be like his old man. Just like his old man. Folly in my bootsteps, I guess.” He looked around the room. “All I know is, the last time he was here, I looked and my book was missing.” He pointed around to a bookshelf: there was a gap between the books.
“So he wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps, no matter what,” mused Sam as the three men and one angel gathered later that night in a motel room.
“Lot of that going around,” mused Dean.
“They have perverted the natural order!” stated Castiel, who had pulled up the rug and was busy painting something on the floor.
“Now, Cas. Remember, I’ve been back and forth a couple times.”
“That was different,” snapped Castiel.
“Leinth said that maybe being uncertain is the natural order nowadays!” said Sam, who was sitting at a table peering into a laptop.
“She’s a reaper,” scoffed Castiel.
“Yeah, I gotta agree with Cas, those guys are creepy,” said Dean, pulling on a beer.
“I don’t know why you guys are prejudiced,” said Sam.
“I’m not prejudiced. I just don’t like ‘em,” said Dean.
“I do not judge. They will be judged by the lord their god.”
“Cas, aren’t you being a little harsh?” asked Sam. “Leinth is trying to follow in her father’s footsteps. I would think of anyone, you two could relate.”
Catiel and Dean glanced at each other.
“Yeah, but they’re creepy footsteps!” said Dean. “Would you wanna be Death?”
“Maybe if my dad was Death. Yeah,” said Sam.
“Ewww,” said Dean.
“I have finished marking the sigils,” said Castiel.
“Oh, great, Cas!” said Sam. “So how long will it take-“
“What the hell? Couldn’t you guys call my cell?” asked Leinth, who had just appeared, sitting cross-legged, in the middle of their motel room. She was dressed not in her reaper suite, but black sweatpants and a t-shirt with a skull and crossbones on it. Her feet were bare, and she had little foam pieces between each toe. In one hand, she held a bottle of black nail polish.
“Oh. Uh. Sorry,” said Sam.
“I was trying to give myself a pedicure,” grumbled Leinth. “You know have some girl time.” She stood up and looked at the floor. “Oh, ya know, one thing I should tell you about me and these devil traps-“ She looked up and scowled. “And what are you supposed to be?” she demanded of Castiel.
“I am Castiel, angel of the lord,” Castiel rumbled, scowling back.
“Is this you guys’ pet angel?” she asked, continuing to lock eyes with Castiel.
“Cas is a friend,” said Sam, who stood up and walked over towards the reaper. “We’re all friends here.”
“I’m not friends with any angel.” Leinth looked over at Sam. “And you shouldn’t be either. They’re only good for scheming!”
“He’s the one who warned us about the demons,” said Dean.
“And we have news,” said Sam.
“What news?” asked Leinth, slamming down the bottle of nail polish on an end table and hopping on one foot to pull the foam bits out of her toes.
“Rebus Senior admitted that he conjured the demons that evidently took out his original reaper,” said Dean. “And that his son recently stole his spell book.”
“This book,” said Sam, patting the spell book.
“Oh, so if you have it,” said Leinth, “that means he can’t get up to more mischief?”
“We don’t know,” admitted Dean.
“It is possible he has committed the spell to memory. Humans can be quite clever that way,” mused Castiel.
“Hey, angel boy, that’s my nail polish,” said Leinth as Castiel curiously examined the bottle.
“Do you drink this substance?” he asked, opening it and taking a sniff.
“I put it on my nails,” Leinth told him. “When I’m not interrupted.”
“Does it ward off demons?” asked Castiel, holding the bottle towards her.
“No. It makes my nails black!” said Leinth, grabbing the bottle.
“I fail to see the point of this exercise,” said Castiel.
“It’s like getting your clothes dry cleaned. Which you also don’t understand,” said Leinth. “Is he Castiel the stupid angel or something?” she asked Sam.
“No, he’s just Cas,” smiled Sam.
“The important thing is,” Dean told her, “Rebus Knebus Jr. has another stunt coming up. So, we think he might conjure some more demons.”
“Who’s assigned to reap him?” Sam asked.
Leinth eyed the Winchester brothers, and then slid a hand into her bra and extracted a cell phone. Dean grinned. Leinth opened an app and thumbed around for a while. “I see it here. I was going to take the assignment myself.”
“You need to let us go with you,” said Dean.
“You want to accompany me?” asked Leinth.
“Yeah. To protect you,” said Sam.
“You guys protect me?” asked Leinth.
“We’re pros at fighting demons, plus we have an angel!” said Dean, indication Castiel.
“You have an angel who eats nail polish,” sighed Leinth glumly.
“You’re a singing reaper,” countered Dean.
Leinth sighed. “OK. OK. Touche. I’ll check with my father.”
“Daddy!”
“Now, Leinth, you should finish your pizza before it gets cold. It’s Chicago style!” said Death, regarding the pouting girl sitting at the dining room table opposite.
Leinth distractedly took out her knife and fork and began to saw a little piece of the pepperoni pie.
“Leinth!” said Death.
“Yes, Daddy?”
“What have a told you?” he asked.
“Oh, sorry!” said Leinth. She put down the knife and fork and instead held up the slice by the crust, being careful to fold it slightly down the middle so it didn’t flop over. She skillfully inserted the end in her mouth and chewed.
“Do you like it?” asked Death. “It’s from my favorite pizza joint!” he told her, obviously relishing the word, “joint.”
“It’s very good, Daddy. Uh, Daddy. Your Winchesters want to go along with me while I reap,” she told her father.
“Well, that should be splendid.”
“Daddy! Those boys pal around with an… an angel!”
“Now, my dear,” said Death.
“But you’re the one who told me angels are only good for scheming! And to stay far away from angel business.”
“Generally, that is a fine rule,” Death told her. “But you are very new in this realm, and I believe it is important that you have experience with all sorts of beings.”
“Even icky ones?”
“Yes, all beings,” smiled Death. “These are things you should know, if you are ever called upon to replace me.”
“Oh, Daddy, no one could ever replace you!”
Death smiled indulgently. “Oh, and kindly tell the Winchesters when you see them, I have some further information regarding the demons we encountered initially.”
“Yes?”
“I could not identify them definitively because they are not from this world.”
“Oh! Really?” said Leinth.
“It is a source of more long term concern. There are firm barriers in place between worlds, as there must be. But they seem to be fraying of late.”
“That sounds worrisome,” said Leinth.
“Unfortunately, much of importance was neglected while I was away. No matter. We shall attend to it in due time. Now, do not let your pizza get cold, child.”
“I still fail to see the point,” said Castiel.
“Well, I guess part of the point is there is no point,” Leinth told him.
“Hrm,” said Castiel.
“Have you heard from Sam and Dean?” Leinth asked the angel.
“No, there are no messages,” said Castiel, looking over at his cell phone.
“You just call on their cell? You don’t have a secret angel way of watching them?”
“Not any more.”
“But you used to?” asked Leinth.
“That is true. I have hidden them away from the angels.”
“Oh,” said Leinth. “You don’t trust angels either?”
“I do not trust certain angels,” said Castiel. “This is a very nice shade of black,” he noted, scrutinizing his toes. “Leinth?” He looked up
Leinth was no longer sitting there.
“Oh. This is not good,” he said.
“This … looks exactly like the other jump,” sniffed Sam. This time, they were all gathered inside a very big circus tent.
“No, this is totally different! This time he goes over the RV’s and past the pit of fire.”
“How is that different from last time?” asked Sam.
“Last time he went through the ring of fire.”
“Yeah, OK. I think I liked the Johnny Cash one better. Anyway, he’s gonna die.”
“If Leinth has her way, yeah,” agreed Dean. He grabbed out is cell phone. “It’s Cas,” he told Sam. “Yeah, Cas! How are- She what? Disappeared? Well, do you know where she went? Well, are you going after her? You WHAT?”
“What?” whispered Sam.
“Cas! I don’t care what Leinth told you. Don’t wait for your damned toenails to dry, go after her now!”
Sam was torn between concern and laughing his fool ass off.
“Leinth disappeared. Come on. I have a notion where she was taken,” said Dean.
“Yeah,” said Sam. He paused a moment before hastening after his older brother, watching Knebus’ team of rescuers, assembling out on the field. He caught the eye of one guy.
Green eyes reflected the light.
And then Sam was running after Dean.
“Huh. So you’re Knebus?” asked Leinth.
“I know who you are,” Knebus told her. “You’re the death of me!”
“Well, no, actually,” explained Leinth. “That’s not the way we do it nowadays.”
“SILENCE!” bellowed Knebus, who flourished his red, white and blue cape for emphasis.
“You know,” said Leinth, pointing at the floor, “there’s something you should know about me and these devil’s traps.”
“I said silence! I must go now! My minions will be here for your soon enough,” Knebus warned.
“You’re going out to try your stunt?” asked Leinth.
“Yes,” said Knebus.
“Well then,” smiled Leinth, leaning forward. “See you soon.”
Knebus cringed. And then he was out the door, Leinth grinning after him.
A few seconds later, Leinth heard the lock rattle.
“Leinth, are you all right?” asked Castiel, who had just appeared at her side.
“Leinth, are you OK?” hollered Dean, who had just broken in.
“Wow, you guys are pretty efficient,” said Leinth.
“We gotta break you out of that trap before showtime,” said Dean, pointing at the arcane marks on the floor.
“Oh, yeah, that’s the thing about me and these traps,” said Leinth. She licked her thumb and then used it to rub out a line. And then she stepped out.
“How did you do that?” asked Castiel.
“I’m only half reaper. So those traps can call me, but they can’t confine me,” explained Leinth. “Now, I’ve got some reaping to do.”
“Before we go,” said Sam, who was puffing behind Dean, “there’s something you guys should know. About Knebus’ team.”
The stunt was, if anything, even more of a spectacular flame out than the last one. Knebus landed head-first in the pit of fire, both setting himself on fire, and quite obviously breaking his neck, among other things.
Two ambulance attendants, who seemed to have appeared right out of the blue, were on the job with a stretcher. Quick as a wink, they scooped up Knebus’ limp body and ran out of the tent with it. They ran into a smaller structure just outside the tent, the members of Knebus’ emergency squad running full stop behind them. When the entire “team” was within, Castiel and Dean dropped the stretcher with a rude thump, and Dean yelled, “Sam!”
Sam, who had been crouching near the door, closed the door and dumped a line of salt over the threshold, effectively cutting it off. Leinth then tossed a fire bucket full of holy water on the demon rescue squad, which resulted in much screaming and hissing.
Castiel tried holding out his hand to exorcise them, but it only seemed to confuse the demons.
“Not working,” he said.
“We’ll have to do this the old fashioned way,” said Leinth, taking out her reaper blade. She slashed a demon’s throat, Sam efficiently clocked one with an iron bar, Dean stuck a knife into another one, and Castiel, not to be outdone, beheaded two at once with a sword.
After a while, there was silence in the little hut, and a pile of demons on the floor, languishing in a pool of sticky black blood.
“Daddy says they’re not of this world,” said Leinth.
“That’s what you said. And they can go back there, as far as I’m concerned,” said Dean.
“Hey!” said Castiel, who had just grabbed a ghost.
“Oh, there you are! You’re not going anywhere!” said Leinth.
“I don’t want to go!” protested the immortal soul of Rebus Knebus, Jr.
“Well, I can leave you, but you’re not going back in that body,” said Leinth, pointing to Knebus’s charred remains on the stretcher.
“I’m the man who cheats death! It’s not my time!” said Knebus.
“It’s your choice,” Leinth told him. “You can go quietly with me now. Or I’ll leave you for these guys to exorcise.”
“Dude,” said Sam. “Just a word of advice? I’d take her. Our stuff?”
“It can get … messy,” warned Dean.
“Screaming,” said Sam.
“Throwing up blood,” said Dean.
“Heads torn off,” said Sam.
“Limbs everywhere,” said Dean.
“Ulp,” said Knebus’ spirit.
“You needed to borrow Sam’s amulet?” asked Dean.
“Yeah,” said Leinth, holding the Enochian sigil in her hand as she and Dean appeared in a quiet suburban house.
“Hey, isn’t this the house where it all started?” asked Dean.
“I have been back here three times this week!” grumbled Leinth, who stalked straight for the nursery. She grabbed the baby and rolled him over on his back. He looked up and gabbled at her. “Lie babies on their backs! Their backs! How can you not know this!” she said.
“Leinth!” warned Dean, who heard the floorboards creaking.
“Good!” said Leinth. She stood by the crib, tapping her toes, until a shadowy figure opened the door and entered the room. Leinth pounced, throwing the amulet over the figure’s head.
“Oh!” gasped the woman, who could now see the reaper.
“Put babies down on their backs! Their backs!” Leinth told her.
Dean, who was still slightly confused, flipped on the lightswitch.
“I don’t know how you can’t-“ raved Leinth. “Oh,” she said.
The woman had a huge shiner, and her lip was split.
“Are you from Social Services?” the woman asked. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know. I just don’t want him to take it out on the little one too. He’s so small,” she said. She was trembling, near tears.
Dean stared at Leinth. Her dark eyes were shining. She had pulled out her blade. “He did that to you?” she whispered.
“Leinth!” said Dean, his hand on a metal crucifix that was standing on a dresser. “Wait. I think I got an idea.” He pulled the reaper aside and whispered in her ear. She nodded.
“OK. Yeah, we’re agents Holland and Dozier from Social Services,” said Dean in his “official” voice. “You got somewhere safe you could take the child for a little while?” he asked.
The bruised woman searched their faces. “My sister? I could go to my sister. For a little while.”
“Good,” said Dean.
Some hours later, in the same house, a man stumbled home. He had been at the bar, once again, and for far too long.
And he was not happy.
“Penny!” he called. “Penny! Where the fuck are you?”
He stumbled into the nursery, confused that his kid didn’t seem to be around either.
He looked up.
The main light blinked, and then the lightbulb exploded.
The man heard the floorboards creek. He turned around.
“I am Castiel, angel of the lord!”
“You think that will convince him?” asked Sam.
“I’ve found Castiel can be very convincing when he wants to be,” laughed Dean, jumping on the hotel room bed. “And if not, he’s got a reaper angry at him.”
“A singing reaper. Who likes babies,” marveled Sam. “Oh, hey, you know that antique store down the block?”
“Yeah.”
Sam tossed Dean a paper bag. “I saw something I thought you might like.”
“What, you’re getting me depression glass now?” joked Dean, crumpling into the paper bag.
Dean gasped.
He withdrew a little red, white and blue action figure, mounted on a motorcycle.
“THIS WAS THE BEST TOY EVER!” said Dean.
“Well, it still works. I tried it. I mean, there’s no box or anything…” said Sam.
“Who needs a box!” said Dean, hopping to the floor and giving Rebus Knebus a crank.
Sam watched as the little action figure hurtled heedlessly along the floor.
“I have returned,” said Castiel, who happened to appear right in the motorcycle’s path. He managed to grab the little figure in his hand. “What is this?” he asked.
“We’re jumping motorcycles, Cas!” said Dean.
“Oh. And what is the point?” asked Castiel, handing the toy back to Dean.
“The point is, there is no point,” laughed Sam.
“Oh. That is not the first time I have heard this,” said Castiel.
In a remote farmhouse in Montana, an old man shuffled into his living room, painfully depositing himself down on the couch. He sighed and gasped for air from his oxygen tank.
“Oh,” he said. “Have you come for me? At last, are you mine?”
“I’ve come for you. Sorry I’m late,” said Leinth.
“That’s all right, dear,” said Rebus Knebus. “I’m ready.”
“Your son is waiting,” said Leinth.
“Oh, is he? Well, that’s good.”
“Come right here,” said Leinth, placing an arm around his shoulders.
“Carry on my wayward son,” she sang. “There’ll be peace when you are done….”
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Sam, Dean, Death, Castiel
Warnings: Cursing. OFC: she’s not paired with anyone, but if that’s the kind of think you hate, you’ll hate that kind of thing. Also, some pretty dark humor in this one.
Word Count: 10,000 total
Summary: Someone is meddling with the Reapers. Dean gets to check up on a childhood idol to find out why.
Notes: I like SPN's version of Death, so I wrote him a little bit of a backstory. Also, my apologies to the Firesign Theater.
Chapter 2
“I dunno, Dean,” said Sam. “If the old man is anything like his son, we couldn’t get anything out of him! He wouldn’t even admit sulfur smelled like sulfur.”
“I think we’ll be OK,” said Dean.
“You sure about this? Maybe we should just let the reapers handle it from here,” said Sam, eying his brother. “Or do you just want to get your little wind up motorcycle thing autographed?” asked Sam.
“Come on, Sammy! Rebus Knebus! The original. He’s my idol!”
“Judging from his son, he’s also a complete asshat. And that address she gave, it’s a long drive,” sighed Sam as they reached the Impala.
“It’ll be great!” said Dean, hopping in and slamming the door. “The open road! You know, like Easy Rider.”
“That didn’t end well,” said Sam. “And the Impala isn’t a motorcycle!”
“No, it’s not! It’s an automobile!” supplied the rumpled angel who had just appeared in the back seat.
“Very good, Cas,” grumbled Dean.
“Cas!” said Sam, rather more enthusiastically. “To what do we owe this visit?”
“I wanted to know if Dean needed help with the reaper case I gave him.”
“I think we’re OK, Cas. Unless you wanna grab some sandwiches?” said Dean.
“Yeah, actually Cas, we need you to teleport us to Moose Jaw, Montana,” said Sam.
“Sammy!” warned Dean, but it was too late.
The Impala suddenly appeared alongside a country backroad. The passenger door wrenched open, and Sam staggered out, retching.
“Yeah, get far away from the car, Sammy,” advised Dean, watching his brother. “That’s what it did to me the first few times too,” he said, getting out.
Castiel was beside Sam now, holding a platter out to him. “Would you like your sandwiches now or later?” he asked.
“Uhhhh,” moaned Sam, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Later?”
“Cas?” said Dean.
“Yes, Dean?
“No sandwich. Damp towel,” said Dean, pointing at Sam.
“Oh. All right,” said Castiel. He disappeared briefly, and then popped up again, now proffering said object to Sam, who immediately buried his face in it.
“Looks like you’re in luck,” said Dean, consulting his phone. “Knebus’ place is in walking distance from here.” He pointed. “That way.”
“That house?” asked Castiel, who seemed confused. Of course, Castiel often seemed confused.
“Well, according to my GPS,” said Dean.
“There is a dead man who lives there,” said Castiel.
“Wait, he croaked and we missed him! Son of a bitch!” said Dean. “Come on!” he urged, increasing his pace.
They soon made their way to an isolated farm house. It didn’t appear that anyone had bothered to farm there for decades. Dean noticed immediately there was an outbuilding that housed several motorcycles, but all of them looked to be disused as well. After attempting to peek into several heavily curtained windows with no luck, Dean went right up to the front too ring the doorbell. To his surprise, there was noise: slow, shuffling footsteps, and a squeaking, like something mechanical.
After a moment or two, the front door opened, and a very, very bent old man appeared behind the screen door, leaning heavily on a cane. He was wearing an oxygen mask, and dragged behind him an oxygen tank, on a wheeled cart with one squeaking wheel.
“Uh. Mr. Knebus?” asked Dean.
The old man removed the mask. “Yes,” he wheezed.
“Uh. I’m Dean, and this is my brother Sam, and our friend Cas. We’re all big fans, sir. Big, big fans.”
“Fans?” asked the old man.
“Yeah. My dad took me to one of your jumps. It was years ago-?”
“Which one?” asked Knebus Senior.
“Oh, it was over in Swamp Creek!” said Dean, warming to the subject. “You had all these RVs lined up, and I remember they dud a pit of fire!”
“Swamp Creek. The pit of fire,” whispered the old man. “Yes, one of my favorites. One of my best.”
“It was awesome,” said Dean lamely, just realizing that he hadn’t bothered to come up with a better cover story.
“Well. Why don’t you come in for a spell. Don’t get many visitors these days,” wheezed Knebus, opening the screen door. Dean didn’t have to be asked twice. They followed the old man as he shuffled into his house. It was dim inside, as there weren’t many lights on, and all of the windows were blacked out with heavy curtains, but you could still see Knebus’ motorcycle jumping memorabilia spread throughout the small living room.
“We just saw your son,” said Sam, settling himself on a couch. “The other day.”
“Oh,” said Knebus. He shot Sam an inscrutable glance. “We don’t talk. Not any more.”
“Oh. Uh, I’m sorry,” said Sam.
Castiel had remained standing. “Rebus Knebus, you cheated Death,” he said.
“Many a time,” said Knebus, painfully easing himself down in into a chair. “I was the man who defied death!”
“No. You did not meet your maker at the appointed time,” said Castiel, narrowing his eyes at Knebus.”
“Cas,” said Dean.
“Yes, Dean?”
“Maybe it’s time for sandwiches now?” suggested Dean.
The angel’s expression suddenly transformed. He was not there, and then he was again. “Would you like a sandwich?” he asked Knebus, holding out a platter of them to the old stunt rider.
Knebus looked at Sam and Dean, momentarily confused. “Well, don’t mind as I do. I guess. Is this egg salad?”
“Yes, it is particularly satisfying,” said Castiel. “For human food.”
“You’re not from around here, are you, boy?” Knebus asked Castiel as he grabbed the sandwich.
“No,” began Castiel. “I am Castiel-“
“He’s, uh, from North Dakota,” interjected Dean.
“Ahhhh!” said Knebus, nodding sagely.
“Sir,” said Sam, holding his stomach and waving away the sandwich tray. “Can you tell us anything about this book?” he asked, extracting the arcane tome he had stolen from Knebus Jr. from his messenger bag and setting it on the coffee table.
Knebus paused in mid egg-salad-bite. “Oh. You found it. Did he have it?”
“Did who have it?” asked Dean.
“I warned him, I did,” said Knebus, waving his sandwich, egg salad making little splatters around him.
“Warned who?” asked Sam.
“Look at me!” wheezed Knebus, pulling at his cart of oxygen. “I’m well past time to go. But I sent him away. I sent him away, and now I’m a broken down old man, no one to take me home.”
Dean leaned forward, his roast beef sandwich nearly forgotten. “Who did you send away, Mr. Knebus?” he asked quietly.
“He banished his death,” said Castiel, who was standing in judgment with a sandwich platter.
“I did. I did, saints forgive me,” sobbed Knebus, tears now streaming down his lined face.
“Oh, hey, it’s gonna be OK,” said Sam, who didn’t know what else to say, but figured he might try, as Dean was looking terrified at the sudden expression of emotion. Sam felt a tapping on his shoulder, and Castiel handed him over an antique looking lacy handkerchief. Sam offered the handkerchief to Knebus, who blew his nose into it in a very sloppy, noisy way. Knebus handed the damp, snotty handkerchief back to Sam, who, holding it gingerly on one corner, winced and passed it back to Castiel.
“You wanna start from the beginning?” Sam asked.
“I was a small time daredevil. Just did local fairs, that kind of thing,” said Knebus, who seemed terribly out of breath following his outburst, as he occasionally paused to put the mask to his face and suck in oxygen. “I had me a few spills, a few close calls. And then there was one, I was going for a new record. I just jumped over motorcycles at that time. I went off the ramp wrong, landed wrong, everything that could happen. Well, I woke up in the hospital, but just before I went under, I swore I saw him in the crowd.”
“Saw who?” asked Sam.
“The man in black. The one come for me. I knew he was mine, knew he was now looking over my shoulder.”
“So what did you do?” asked Dean, who thought he knew the answer.
“I found this book – that book right there – at a church basement sale. I didn’t believe in witches and spells and the like, but the late wife used to cook, and it seemed a lot like a cookbook.”
“You could read it?” asked Dean.
Knebus actually laughed, a dry death rattle of mirth. “Latin! The nuns woulda pounded me if I wasn’t able to read my Latin. Good Catholic boy. Anyway, it was pretty clear, if you wanted to chase away Death, there were some things to buy and words to say. I had a family to support, remember, a wife and a little boy. I couldn’t let them take me away before my time!”
“It was your time. It was written,” said Castiel.
“Cas,” shushed Dean.
“No man may say when it is his time!” insisted the angel, chomping down on a cheese sandwich. “It is arrogan’!” he smacked.
“Well, I’ve paid my price,” sighed Knebus, holding the mask to his face. “So, I did my piece, and it summoned these three odd fellows. Weird look, like not from around here. Cat eyes, they had. Green cat eyes in the moonlight.”
“What happened to them? Do you know?” asked Sam.
“They ran off. But they got him. I knew they did. Couldn’t feel him looking over my shoulder no more. Never did see my man in black again.”
The men were silent for a moment, the only sound Knebus gasping through the oxygen mask.
“So how did your son find the book?” Sam finally asked.
Knebus sighed deeply. It seemed the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “I warned him. Warned him time and time again. But the boy wanted to be like his old man. Just like his old man. Folly in my bootsteps, I guess.” He looked around the room. “All I know is, the last time he was here, I looked and my book was missing.” He pointed around to a bookshelf: there was a gap between the books.
“So he wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps, no matter what,” mused Sam as the three men and one angel gathered later that night in a motel room.
“Lot of that going around,” mused Dean.
“They have perverted the natural order!” stated Castiel, who had pulled up the rug and was busy painting something on the floor.
“Now, Cas. Remember, I’ve been back and forth a couple times.”
“That was different,” snapped Castiel.
“Leinth said that maybe being uncertain is the natural order nowadays!” said Sam, who was sitting at a table peering into a laptop.
“She’s a reaper,” scoffed Castiel.
“Yeah, I gotta agree with Cas, those guys are creepy,” said Dean, pulling on a beer.
“I don’t know why you guys are prejudiced,” said Sam.
“I’m not prejudiced. I just don’t like ‘em,” said Dean.
“I do not judge. They will be judged by the lord their god.”
“Cas, aren’t you being a little harsh?” asked Sam. “Leinth is trying to follow in her father’s footsteps. I would think of anyone, you two could relate.”
Catiel and Dean glanced at each other.
“Yeah, but they’re creepy footsteps!” said Dean. “Would you wanna be Death?”
“Maybe if my dad was Death. Yeah,” said Sam.
“Ewww,” said Dean.
“I have finished marking the sigils,” said Castiel.
“Oh, great, Cas!” said Sam. “So how long will it take-“
“What the hell? Couldn’t you guys call my cell?” asked Leinth, who had just appeared, sitting cross-legged, in the middle of their motel room. She was dressed not in her reaper suite, but black sweatpants and a t-shirt with a skull and crossbones on it. Her feet were bare, and she had little foam pieces between each toe. In one hand, she held a bottle of black nail polish.
“Oh. Uh. Sorry,” said Sam.
“I was trying to give myself a pedicure,” grumbled Leinth. “You know have some girl time.” She stood up and looked at the floor. “Oh, ya know, one thing I should tell you about me and these devil traps-“ She looked up and scowled. “And what are you supposed to be?” she demanded of Castiel.
“I am Castiel, angel of the lord,” Castiel rumbled, scowling back.
“Is this you guys’ pet angel?” she asked, continuing to lock eyes with Castiel.
“Cas is a friend,” said Sam, who stood up and walked over towards the reaper. “We’re all friends here.”
“I’m not friends with any angel.” Leinth looked over at Sam. “And you shouldn’t be either. They’re only good for scheming!”
“He’s the one who warned us about the demons,” said Dean.
“And we have news,” said Sam.
“What news?” asked Leinth, slamming down the bottle of nail polish on an end table and hopping on one foot to pull the foam bits out of her toes.
“Rebus Senior admitted that he conjured the demons that evidently took out his original reaper,” said Dean. “And that his son recently stole his spell book.”
“This book,” said Sam, patting the spell book.
“Oh, so if you have it,” said Leinth, “that means he can’t get up to more mischief?”
“We don’t know,” admitted Dean.
“It is possible he has committed the spell to memory. Humans can be quite clever that way,” mused Castiel.
“Hey, angel boy, that’s my nail polish,” said Leinth as Castiel curiously examined the bottle.
“Do you drink this substance?” he asked, opening it and taking a sniff.
“I put it on my nails,” Leinth told him. “When I’m not interrupted.”
“Does it ward off demons?” asked Castiel, holding the bottle towards her.
“No. It makes my nails black!” said Leinth, grabbing the bottle.
“I fail to see the point of this exercise,” said Castiel.
“It’s like getting your clothes dry cleaned. Which you also don’t understand,” said Leinth. “Is he Castiel the stupid angel or something?” she asked Sam.
“No, he’s just Cas,” smiled Sam.
“The important thing is,” Dean told her, “Rebus Knebus Jr. has another stunt coming up. So, we think he might conjure some more demons.”
“Who’s assigned to reap him?” Sam asked.
Leinth eyed the Winchester brothers, and then slid a hand into her bra and extracted a cell phone. Dean grinned. Leinth opened an app and thumbed around for a while. “I see it here. I was going to take the assignment myself.”
“You need to let us go with you,” said Dean.
“You want to accompany me?” asked Leinth.
“Yeah. To protect you,” said Sam.
“You guys protect me?” asked Leinth.
“We’re pros at fighting demons, plus we have an angel!” said Dean, indication Castiel.
“You have an angel who eats nail polish,” sighed Leinth glumly.
“You’re a singing reaper,” countered Dean.
Leinth sighed. “OK. OK. Touche. I’ll check with my father.”
“Daddy!”
“Now, Leinth, you should finish your pizza before it gets cold. It’s Chicago style!” said Death, regarding the pouting girl sitting at the dining room table opposite.
Leinth distractedly took out her knife and fork and began to saw a little piece of the pepperoni pie.
“Leinth!” said Death.
“Yes, Daddy?”
“What have a told you?” he asked.
“Oh, sorry!” said Leinth. She put down the knife and fork and instead held up the slice by the crust, being careful to fold it slightly down the middle so it didn’t flop over. She skillfully inserted the end in her mouth and chewed.
“Do you like it?” asked Death. “It’s from my favorite pizza joint!” he told her, obviously relishing the word, “joint.”
“It’s very good, Daddy. Uh, Daddy. Your Winchesters want to go along with me while I reap,” she told her father.
“Well, that should be splendid.”
“Daddy! Those boys pal around with an… an angel!”
“Now, my dear,” said Death.
“But you’re the one who told me angels are only good for scheming! And to stay far away from angel business.”
“Generally, that is a fine rule,” Death told her. “But you are very new in this realm, and I believe it is important that you have experience with all sorts of beings.”
“Even icky ones?”
“Yes, all beings,” smiled Death. “These are things you should know, if you are ever called upon to replace me.”
“Oh, Daddy, no one could ever replace you!”
Death smiled indulgently. “Oh, and kindly tell the Winchesters when you see them, I have some further information regarding the demons we encountered initially.”
“Yes?”
“I could not identify them definitively because they are not from this world.”
“Oh! Really?” said Leinth.
“It is a source of more long term concern. There are firm barriers in place between worlds, as there must be. But they seem to be fraying of late.”
“That sounds worrisome,” said Leinth.
“Unfortunately, much of importance was neglected while I was away. No matter. We shall attend to it in due time. Now, do not let your pizza get cold, child.”
“I still fail to see the point,” said Castiel.
“Well, I guess part of the point is there is no point,” Leinth told him.
“Hrm,” said Castiel.
“Have you heard from Sam and Dean?” Leinth asked the angel.
“No, there are no messages,” said Castiel, looking over at his cell phone.
“You just call on their cell? You don’t have a secret angel way of watching them?”
“Not any more.”
“But you used to?” asked Leinth.
“That is true. I have hidden them away from the angels.”
“Oh,” said Leinth. “You don’t trust angels either?”
“I do not trust certain angels,” said Castiel. “This is a very nice shade of black,” he noted, scrutinizing his toes. “Leinth?” He looked up
Leinth was no longer sitting there.
“Oh. This is not good,” he said.
“This … looks exactly like the other jump,” sniffed Sam. This time, they were all gathered inside a very big circus tent.
“No, this is totally different! This time he goes over the RV’s and past the pit of fire.”
“How is that different from last time?” asked Sam.
“Last time he went through the ring of fire.”
“Yeah, OK. I think I liked the Johnny Cash one better. Anyway, he’s gonna die.”
“If Leinth has her way, yeah,” agreed Dean. He grabbed out is cell phone. “It’s Cas,” he told Sam. “Yeah, Cas! How are- She what? Disappeared? Well, do you know where she went? Well, are you going after her? You WHAT?”
“What?” whispered Sam.
“Cas! I don’t care what Leinth told you. Don’t wait for your damned toenails to dry, go after her now!”
Sam was torn between concern and laughing his fool ass off.
“Leinth disappeared. Come on. I have a notion where she was taken,” said Dean.
“Yeah,” said Sam. He paused a moment before hastening after his older brother, watching Knebus’ team of rescuers, assembling out on the field. He caught the eye of one guy.
Green eyes reflected the light.
And then Sam was running after Dean.
“Huh. So you’re Knebus?” asked Leinth.
“I know who you are,” Knebus told her. “You’re the death of me!”
“Well, no, actually,” explained Leinth. “That’s not the way we do it nowadays.”
“SILENCE!” bellowed Knebus, who flourished his red, white and blue cape for emphasis.
“You know,” said Leinth, pointing at the floor, “there’s something you should know about me and these devil’s traps.”
“I said silence! I must go now! My minions will be here for your soon enough,” Knebus warned.
“You’re going out to try your stunt?” asked Leinth.
“Yes,” said Knebus.
“Well then,” smiled Leinth, leaning forward. “See you soon.”
Knebus cringed. And then he was out the door, Leinth grinning after him.
A few seconds later, Leinth heard the lock rattle.
“Leinth, are you all right?” asked Castiel, who had just appeared at her side.
“Leinth, are you OK?” hollered Dean, who had just broken in.
“Wow, you guys are pretty efficient,” said Leinth.
“We gotta break you out of that trap before showtime,” said Dean, pointing at the arcane marks on the floor.
“Oh, yeah, that’s the thing about me and these traps,” said Leinth. She licked her thumb and then used it to rub out a line. And then she stepped out.
“How did you do that?” asked Castiel.
“I’m only half reaper. So those traps can call me, but they can’t confine me,” explained Leinth. “Now, I’ve got some reaping to do.”
“Before we go,” said Sam, who was puffing behind Dean, “there’s something you guys should know. About Knebus’ team.”
The stunt was, if anything, even more of a spectacular flame out than the last one. Knebus landed head-first in the pit of fire, both setting himself on fire, and quite obviously breaking his neck, among other things.
Two ambulance attendants, who seemed to have appeared right out of the blue, were on the job with a stretcher. Quick as a wink, they scooped up Knebus’ limp body and ran out of the tent with it. They ran into a smaller structure just outside the tent, the members of Knebus’ emergency squad running full stop behind them. When the entire “team” was within, Castiel and Dean dropped the stretcher with a rude thump, and Dean yelled, “Sam!”
Sam, who had been crouching near the door, closed the door and dumped a line of salt over the threshold, effectively cutting it off. Leinth then tossed a fire bucket full of holy water on the demon rescue squad, which resulted in much screaming and hissing.
Castiel tried holding out his hand to exorcise them, but it only seemed to confuse the demons.
“Not working,” he said.
“We’ll have to do this the old fashioned way,” said Leinth, taking out her reaper blade. She slashed a demon’s throat, Sam efficiently clocked one with an iron bar, Dean stuck a knife into another one, and Castiel, not to be outdone, beheaded two at once with a sword.
After a while, there was silence in the little hut, and a pile of demons on the floor, languishing in a pool of sticky black blood.
“Daddy says they’re not of this world,” said Leinth.
“That’s what you said. And they can go back there, as far as I’m concerned,” said Dean.
“Hey!” said Castiel, who had just grabbed a ghost.
“Oh, there you are! You’re not going anywhere!” said Leinth.
“I don’t want to go!” protested the immortal soul of Rebus Knebus, Jr.
“Well, I can leave you, but you’re not going back in that body,” said Leinth, pointing to Knebus’s charred remains on the stretcher.
“I’m the man who cheats death! It’s not my time!” said Knebus.
“It’s your choice,” Leinth told him. “You can go quietly with me now. Or I’ll leave you for these guys to exorcise.”
“Dude,” said Sam. “Just a word of advice? I’d take her. Our stuff?”
“It can get … messy,” warned Dean.
“Screaming,” said Sam.
“Throwing up blood,” said Dean.
“Heads torn off,” said Sam.
“Limbs everywhere,” said Dean.
“Ulp,” said Knebus’ spirit.
“You needed to borrow Sam’s amulet?” asked Dean.
“Yeah,” said Leinth, holding the Enochian sigil in her hand as she and Dean appeared in a quiet suburban house.
“Hey, isn’t this the house where it all started?” asked Dean.
“I have been back here three times this week!” grumbled Leinth, who stalked straight for the nursery. She grabbed the baby and rolled him over on his back. He looked up and gabbled at her. “Lie babies on their backs! Their backs! How can you not know this!” she said.
“Leinth!” warned Dean, who heard the floorboards creaking.
“Good!” said Leinth. She stood by the crib, tapping her toes, until a shadowy figure opened the door and entered the room. Leinth pounced, throwing the amulet over the figure’s head.
“Oh!” gasped the woman, who could now see the reaper.
“Put babies down on their backs! Their backs!” Leinth told her.
Dean, who was still slightly confused, flipped on the lightswitch.
“I don’t know how you can’t-“ raved Leinth. “Oh,” she said.
The woman had a huge shiner, and her lip was split.
“Are you from Social Services?” the woman asked. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know. I just don’t want him to take it out on the little one too. He’s so small,” she said. She was trembling, near tears.
Dean stared at Leinth. Her dark eyes were shining. She had pulled out her blade. “He did that to you?” she whispered.
“Leinth!” said Dean, his hand on a metal crucifix that was standing on a dresser. “Wait. I think I got an idea.” He pulled the reaper aside and whispered in her ear. She nodded.
“OK. Yeah, we’re agents Holland and Dozier from Social Services,” said Dean in his “official” voice. “You got somewhere safe you could take the child for a little while?” he asked.
The bruised woman searched their faces. “My sister? I could go to my sister. For a little while.”
“Good,” said Dean.
Some hours later, in the same house, a man stumbled home. He had been at the bar, once again, and for far too long.
And he was not happy.
“Penny!” he called. “Penny! Where the fuck are you?”
He stumbled into the nursery, confused that his kid didn’t seem to be around either.
He looked up.
The main light blinked, and then the lightbulb exploded.
The man heard the floorboards creek. He turned around.
“I am Castiel, angel of the lord!”
“You think that will convince him?” asked Sam.
“I’ve found Castiel can be very convincing when he wants to be,” laughed Dean, jumping on the hotel room bed. “And if not, he’s got a reaper angry at him.”
“A singing reaper. Who likes babies,” marveled Sam. “Oh, hey, you know that antique store down the block?”
“Yeah.”
Sam tossed Dean a paper bag. “I saw something I thought you might like.”
“What, you’re getting me depression glass now?” joked Dean, crumpling into the paper bag.
Dean gasped.
He withdrew a little red, white and blue action figure, mounted on a motorcycle.
“THIS WAS THE BEST TOY EVER!” said Dean.
“Well, it still works. I tried it. I mean, there’s no box or anything…” said Sam.
“Who needs a box!” said Dean, hopping to the floor and giving Rebus Knebus a crank.
Sam watched as the little action figure hurtled heedlessly along the floor.
“I have returned,” said Castiel, who happened to appear right in the motorcycle’s path. He managed to grab the little figure in his hand. “What is this?” he asked.
“We’re jumping motorcycles, Cas!” said Dean.
“Oh. And what is the point?” asked Castiel, handing the toy back to Dean.
“The point is, there is no point,” laughed Sam.
“Oh. That is not the first time I have heard this,” said Castiel.
In a remote farmhouse in Montana, an old man shuffled into his living room, painfully depositing himself down on the couch. He sighed and gasped for air from his oxygen tank.
“Oh,” he said. “Have you come for me? At last, are you mine?”
“I’ve come for you. Sorry I’m late,” said Leinth.
“That’s all right, dear,” said Rebus Knebus. “I’m ready.”
“Your son is waiting,” said Leinth.
“Oh, is he? Well, that’s good.”
“Come right here,” said Leinth, placing an arm around his shoulders.
“Carry on my wayward son,” she sang. “There’ll be peace when you are done….”
