Chapter 11
The group is silent, the tension palpable as they all consider the conversation that is still hanging heavily over them.
“So you’re suggesting we march into Hell?” Tony breaks the silence, his voice loud in the deafening quiet.
“Not quite Hell. A, uh…a devil’s gate.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, a gate. That sounds so much better. And Hell would be what is behind this gate, am I correct?”
“….Yes.”
“Fantastic. Fan-fucking-tastic.” Steve frowns at Tony and he rolls his eyes. “Right, language. Like you don’t say fuck.” He sighs, then looks at the map of Central Park, the red darkening as time passes. “Why aren’t they leaving the gate? I thought you said this place was swarming?”
“It is,” Sam says as he walks over to the map, “with demons that were already topside. The gate isn’t open yet. Once the gate is open, thousands of them will pour out. This gate is easily five times bigger than the one we dealt with. If this gate opens…” He trails off at the thought, his gaze shifting to Dean.
“If this gate opens, Thanos and Crowley both get what they want. Problem is, we know Thanos will double cross Crowley. He’ll wait until he has the army he wants, an army that won’t die, he’ll get the stones, and, then, he’ll destroy everything Crowley thinks he has. There is no happy ending if that gate opens. We can’t let him do it.”
“How do we play a part in this? You’ve already said nothing can kill demons except for the knife.” Steve’s eyes are locked on the map, his brows furrowed as he contemplates what the Winchesters are telling them.
“It’s not the only thing. We have a gun, made by Samuel Colt. It fires specially made bullets, and we just happen to have the spell that creates more. I think we can get a little creative.”
“You think…you think? Have you ever used this spell on something other than bullets?” Tony shakes his head, “There is too much left to chance. You’re telling me that you’re just going to wing this?”
Dean shrugs, “That’s kind of how our lives work. We wing things using the knowledge that we already have. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. What we’ve always had on our side is smarts, and combine that with you guys…I think we’ve got a hell of a team.”
“Dean’s right. Our job is never black and white, and, though there are some set rules, generally speaking, we have to work with what we’ve got. We might not have time on our side, but what we do have is our knowledge and your technology. We already spooked Crowley with the Devil’s trap, he has no idea what we’re capable of. I’ve got a couple of ideas that I think will work, and we’ve got just enough time to test the theory. But we need all of you.”
Steve stands up, his arms crossed as he looks at the rest of the Avengers, “You really think your plan is going to work?”
Sam shrugs, “I honestly don’t know. I’m pretty confident, yea.”
Steve looks at Bucky, who nods silently. Steve acknowledges the movement and allows his arms to drop as he looks back at Sam, “We’ve done worse with less knowledge. Whatever you need, let us know.”
“Same here. Clint and I have done some questionable shit. Count me in.”
“Hell, if she’s in, I’m in. I gotta say, this sounds pretty freaking stupid, but then again, most of what we do kind of is, so…count me in.”
“Where Cap goes, I go. I figure you’ll need some wings in this operation, anyway.”
“Asgard is in safe hands for the time being, so I believe I can lend a hand. I am curious to see how this turns out. I am pretty fond of Midgard, after all. You have my hammer.”
“That leaves me and the green guy, I guess.” Tony sighs, shaking his head, “Fine. I’m in. This is incredibly insane, and I can’t see how it’s going to end well, but sure. Into Hell we go. Bruce?”
“I don’t see that I really have a choice in the matter. Let’s do it.”
Dean claps his hands, “Alright, there’s some good news. Sammy, it’s your turn. We’ve got work to do.”
“I’m going to need everyone’s weapons and ammunition. Tony, I also need access to your computer system.”
“Sure thing, Sasquatch.”
“Great, you two nerd out with that. Now, the rest of you…how do you feel about tattoos?”
“Do you really think this is going to work?”
Sam looks up to see Clint watching him coat the tips of his silver arrows with the holy oil, sage, and myrrh that Dean had retrieved from the Impala. “Honestly, I don’t know. It works with silver bullets, so in theory, it should work on these arrows. Then again, the bullets work in tandem with the Colt so…”
“So it’s possible that the arrows won’t work because the bow isn’t made the same way as the Colt.”
“Exactly.” Sam lays down the last arrow and wipes his hands off on his jeans. “I guess we’re about to find out.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, “Signum est imitandum. Signum est imitandum.” The arrow tips glow briefly, and when Sam opens his eyes, he sees the same etchings along their edges. “Well, that part at least worked.” He glances over and his gaze lands on Clint’s bow. “You’re probably not going to like this.”
“Like what?”
“I need to carve something into your bow.”
“Oh, hell no! No one touches my bow.”
“I don’t want to, but it’s going to double our chances that these arrows even work.”
“It’s not just that. You can’t just carve into it, it’s tough as hell. You aren’t going to cut into it like you’re whittling a piece of wood.”
“He won’t have to.” They both turn to see Tony, grimacing as he flexes his arm while he walks towards him.
“What’s wrong with your arm?”
“Same thing that’s going to be wrong with yours. Head to the upstairs conference room, you’ve got some ink to get.”
“You’ve got a tattoo parlor in here?” Sam looks at Tony, mildly impressed.
“I called some people. It’s under the table, but I’m not really supposed to have an unlicensed tattoo parlor in an office building, so let’s keep it on the DL, huh?”
“Why are we getting ink?”
“Anti-possession tattoos. If we’re going to be fighting demons, we need to make sure we’re all clean. Trust me, being possessed is no fun.” Sam looks up from Clint’s bow and at Tony, “Why won’t I have to carve it?”
“I can use a laser to etch whatever you want into their weapons, it’s easier and faster. The only thing you’ll have issue with is Cap’s shield. Vibranium is the strongest metal on the planet, and I don’t have the power to even scratch it.”
“We could ask T’Challa,” Nat suggests as she crosses the room and sits next to Sam.
Tony shakes his head, “He’s got enough to worry about right now. I don’t want to involve Wakanda until we absolutely have to.”
“Tony, I think this might be that moment,” Natasha raises an eyebrow, “I can’t really think of a better…or worse…one.”
“I’ll think about it. In the meantime, we’ll come up with something for Cap.” Tony stares at Nat for a moment, and then smirks, “Where’s your ink?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“That was the answer I was expecting. Hand me that bow, would ya? And, show me what you want carved into it.”
Sam finishes up the sketch he was working on and hands it to Tony, “It needs to say that exactly, and that symbol has to be accurate, too, or it won’t work.”
“What does non timebo mala mean?”
“I will fear no evil.”
Tony scoffs, “Maybe you won’t. Alright, let me see what I can do.” He walks off, leaving Sam and Nat alone.
“So, you’ve been doing this since you were a kid?”
Sam nods, “Yea, pretty much. I went to college for awhile, but some things happened, and I came back. This life doesn’t really let you go that easily.”
“I understand that.” She falls silent, her eyes on her hands. “Children should never have to be soldiers, regardless of what war you’re fighting.”
“No, they shouldn’t.” Sam looks at Nat, her head down, and realizes they’re more alike than he would have thought. “Luckily, some of us turn out okay, despite what we’ve seen, or done.”
She looks up at him and smiles, “Not everyone gets to save the world, huh?”
He shakes his head, “Nope.” He can’t help but notice how green her eyes are in this light, a shifting shade of emerald that contrasts brilliantly against her red hair. He clears his throat, “I can work on your gun, now. This probably sounds like a dumb question, but do you happen to use silver bullets?”
She laughs, “No, not quite that fancy.”
He smiles in return, “I figured. I can take care of that, we’ve got some stuff in the trunk. If you could get everyone else as they come back so we can have everything lined up, I would appreciate it. I’ll be right back.”
“Sure thing, Sammy.”
Sam opens his mouth to correct her, then shakes his head instead. He turns to walk away and then looks back over his shoulder, “Where is that tattoo, anyway?”
Nat grins, “Maybe you’ll find out when this is all said and done.” She winks, and watches as Sam chuckles and walks out of the room.
Dean walks into lounge to find Nat sitting alone. “Where’s Sam?”
“He said he was going to the car to get some stuff to make bullets.”
“How long ago was that?”
“I don’t know…twenty minutes or so. Why?”
“I have the keys, he couldn’t have gotten it. He’s not been back?”
She shakes her head, “No, everyone’s been in the upstairs conference room. I’ve been on my own.”
“Shit.” He fumbles his phone from his pocket and hits speed dial, frowning as the phone rings and rings. He hangs up and jams the phone back in his jeans. “He’s not answering.”
“What’s wrong?” Tony appears, Clint’s bow in hand.
“Sam’s gone.”
“What do you mean, ‘He’s gone’? I just left him here.” He lays the bow down. “How can he be gone?”
“He went to get stuff to make bullets and now he’s not answering his phone.”
“I’m going to go look for him. You guys stay here in case he comes back. I’ll check the Impala, maybe I did leave it unlocked.” Dean leaves before anyone can respond, skipping the elevator and taking the stairs down to the parking garage. “Sammy!” he calls out, his voice echoing through the mostly empty space. “Where the hell did you go?” He slows to a stop at the Impala and sighs; there is no sign that Sam has been here. He pulls his phone out and calls him again, jumping slightly when he hears it ringing nearby. He follows the sound, walking around the Impala and kneeling down by the front bumper. Sam’s phone is vibrating loudly against the concrete, Dean’s face and number flashing dully behind the shattered screen. Dean hangs up his phone and picks up Sam’s, looking around.
“Sam, what the hell happened?”