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To talk to him in person, you'll need to be in Cadens or go to his domain, a snowy mountain fortress. Yard is open; doors are locked. If he isn't around, leave a delivery with the white wolf.
To talk to him in person, you'll need to be in Cadens or go to his domain, a snowy mountain fortress. Yard is open; doors are locked. If he isn't around, leave a delivery with the white wolf.
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God made like an assload of angels, hundreds, but the only ones that matter right now are the oldest. Archangels. Four of them. Some of the strongest entities in the universe. Strong enough to level the planet if they wanted to. The second angel God made... ( Vague gesture with his glass. Geralt can probably connect that dot, but he'll do it anyway. ) Lucifer.
( Hence the cliff's notes on Christianity. )
For the first time in the history of- well, history, an angel rebelled against God. Totally flipped him the finger, said screw this, screw humans, not happening, those things suck and anyone who's on board with them can eat my ass. Shockingly, this did not go over great with big guy upstairs. God created Hell, and threw Lucifer into a cage in the deepest pits of it. Hell basically became the punishment dimension. Good people die, they go to Heaven, hang out with angels, have eternal peace and paradise, eat orgies and candy bars, whatever. Murderers, rapists, dictators, dudes who wear jeggings? They wind up in Hell. To really paint you a picture of how bad this dude is, he's basically the father of all demons. Bad guy goes to hell, Lucifer screws with their soul until it breaks, turns black, loses all semblance of humanity, becomes twisted, pure evil, and next thing you know, the first demon is born.
( Because at least they're both in relative agreement that demons are Bad and generally a Big Deal. )
I told you I screwed up somebody's apocalypse. It was Lucifer's. He's here. The good news is angels, especially archangels, need specific human vessels to use all their power. The one Lucifer's wearing isn't his, so he's not at full strength, but even without it... what he's capable of with just a fraction of his juice...
( He shakes his head slowly.
Leaves that ominous sentiment hanging for Geralt's imagination to fill in the blanks. )
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It isn't that he fails to understand it. In the strictest sense, he does understand. Dean's hardly a master poet, but the story is not especially complex. It holds the familiar beats of any story. What is baffling to him is that Dean seems to wholeheartedly believe this is, what. Actually how their world came to being? That people are weighed and judged by these creatures based on their misdeeds? Perhaps the smallest grain of truth lies somewhere in there, in that—
Demons do prey on the desperate, do they not? He thinks of Voleth Meir, of the man Nadine calls Flagg. He's not so certain it's truly to do with the measure of one's heart. Maybe all it is, is that those who commit certain acts, for certain reasons, are most likely to have fallen prey to these demons at some point. Seems easy to do, when demons run amok in a world that according to Dean barely believes in them. Between this thing Dean calls god and Lucifer—to him, it all sounds like people being stolen by otherworldly beings, perhaps when they're at their weakest. On the cusp of death, for one.
A long stretch of silence passes. Geralt is aware that, at the crux of the matter, Dean is trying to tell him that a powerful demon has made its way into this sphere and that it may become a problem. He's aware that what's foremost on his mind is not the point. But it lingers. ]
So this god is the reason demons even exist in your sphere. When he chose to trap his creation in another world. [ He peers carefully at Dean. Finds another piece slotting into place. ] I know Castiel laid siege to this realm. I saw it, when we crossed paths. Is that what he was preventing? You, from becoming a demon?
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No. ( A beat wherein he visibly reconsiders, sways, and relents: ) Yeah, kind of, technically.
( The point of this wasn't really about circling back to his whole deal — not that he's got a problem talking about it. His two percent of reticence mostly comes down to the fact that it adds more complications on top of a concept that's already probably pretty weird for Geralt to wrap his head around.
At the end of the day, it's context. Useful, valid context that might help Geralt understand Lucifer's whole motivation a little better.
A little reluctant elaboration's probably warranted. )
Cas- yeah, I was... I was pretty friggin' near to the outs by the time Cas showed up. I wasn't... ( He falters, then powers on. ) I was close, but that's not why he did his whole rescue mission.
( Which, yeah, okay, he knows the follow-up question is well why then, jackass? He sighs. )
I'm a vessel. Cas got sent down to yank me out, so I could do my wifely duties and let an archangel wear me like a skin suit. Not- not Lucifer. The one that was supposed to fight him. Michael. That was gonna be the apocalypse. The two of them, duking it out on Earth, tearing the planet apart in the process.
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But when the threat is personal, it's different. It means something else to him, when there is a someone to protect.
He sets his glass on the table. Yeah. That's what Castiel had implied. ] An instrument of absolution.
[ Somehow, that aspect is easier to swallow. He's been through the same, with Ciri. (Is still going through the same.) Things, people, that want to use another for their own ends—that isn't new. Though he has to ask what it is Dean possesses that makes him the vessel. Or is it just prophecy, written, that no one's ever questioned?
He pauses. ] What are you afraid he'll do?
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Okay, Hemmingway, sure.
( If that's what you wanna call it. No need to get all flowery.
(Sorry, Cas.)
That next question's the real one, ain't it? Well, there's the technically correct answer first: )
Aside from whatever the hell he wants? People, humans, they're like roaches to him. I think he'll step on whoever gets in his way. Hell, I think he'll step on them for fun.
( Geralt may not care about vague conflict or war, about abstract people that may or may not exist on the opposite side of the continent, but Dean does.
It's just... selfishly, what he cares about more is answer number two. Confession, admission: )
And I think he's gonna look for the first opportunity to go after people I give a crap about. Cas. You.
( Shut up, don't make a big deal out of it.
Admission number three, the one he feels preemptively guilty for: )
People you care about.
( Ciri — because he knows it'll trickle up. Screw with Ciri to screw with Geralt to screw with Dean. Poison his friendships. Ruin whatever he can, because he can.
He levels Geralt with a serious look, solemn. Intent. )
Listen... now might be a good time to put some distance. Before he has a chance to figure out you exist.
( Get out while you still can. He has to put that out there. Has to make the suggestion. Has to, because it's right, and fair, and smart, and his conscience won't let him get by without doing it. )
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But Dean, he understands. ]
Let me worry about them. [ He is not dismissing the concern. It's there. It's there, like every other danger that's faced Ciri from the moment he found her. Before, even. He'll protect her all the same. If it isn't a Lucifer, there will be something else. Besides, Ciri is a force of her own. As long as her secret is safe—
Perhaps in the future, he will consider different. He doesn't know. Geralt's learned to shift with the wind. He's not one to lay plans that span great lengths. But for now, he sees no reason to make any decisions in haste. He does not especially prefer to hide away.
And he does not add that them currently includes Dean. ]
Where is he?
[ The territory matters. He has people in each. ]
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He's not as sorry about that as he should be.
Let me worry about them.
Dean's look lingers for another couple of heartbeats, weighted, assessing. At length, he slowly nods. It's not that he's necessarily lumping himself in with them, but it's the rest of the implication that really hits him: that Geralt's making the choice to stick around despite knowing it could bring him and his into some serious shit.
When people look at Dean, when they get to know him, when they get a glimpse of all the bullshit he's involved in — and they still choose to stay?
He takes that more personally than any normal person should. It matters more than it should. Too much, way too much, but that's Dean Winchester. Unhealthy in his loyalty, and when circumstances align in the right (or wrong) ways, too easily attached to people.
Like hell he's gonna friggin say that, though, he knows he's pathetic and deliberately plugs his mental ears about the whole thing, la la la shut up I don't have emotions go screw yourself. Focus on the monster issue. )
Thorne.
( Lucifer's manipulative, he can lie, but Dean's fairly confident that was true. )
He doesn't know where I am, but it won't take him long to figure it out.
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He's hardly free from threats of his own, either. Between the secrets he's guarding for Ciri, his link to Yennefer and the Queen, what he does—Jaskier has already paid the price for it, more than once. So have his brothers. In the end, he senses Dean would not abandon him, if he were to tell him all that there is to know about Cirilla. The thousands of bodies that have been left in her path. Could he be wrong? Maybe. He doesn't think he is.
So. That's all there is to it.
His gaze lingers on Dean for a moment. In a similar fashion, though, he lets most of his thoughts go unsaid. Only a flicker across his expression suggests there is more going on when Dean says Thorne. A demon, in Thorne. Specifically where Yennefer is residing. That's...
He wants to believe she knows better now. But there were a lot of things he wanted to believe about Yennefer, and many of them he has realized he's wrong. ]
Thorne's magic has contained those of a similar kind before, and the castle walls have many eyes. He may not have as much free rein there. [ Now and then, Geralt does, in fact, feel it's unfortunate Thorne is no longer prone to locking away their so-called mistakes in the dungeon. Would be useful, in cases like these. ] What name would he go by, were he to hide his true nature?
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Cas swallowed down all the souls of Purgatory, tried to play God, culled heaven and set Leviathans loose on the world. Dean started the apocalypse. Sam released Satan. Everybody gets a mulligan.
He presses his lips flat. Shakes his head. )
I don't know that the eyes in the walls are gonna matter. I really don't wanna know what he's capable of if he starts poking around the singularity. ( Angels might garner a different reaction than the rest of them have so far, who the hell knows. ) As for names... you're right, dollars to donuts he's not gonna go with the usual array. Half the universes here — Sam's, Julie's, practically anyone from any variation of Earth, their religion's the same as mine. They'd recognize it in a heartbeat, and he knows that.
( What in the hell would he go by if not Lucifer, though? )
Nick, maybe? Other than that, could be anything. I might be able to spot it if it's obvious enough, but definitely won't be something you'd recognize, I can just about guarantee that.
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[ All right. No particular identity to recognize that Dean can say for certain. Not ideal, but it'll do. The only thing to weigh is how much he wants to say, and to whom. Stephen may be the most sensible, given the man has been given the only device capable of monitoring the Singularity, and already has the context of this whole...explanation from his own world—one that, as Dean states, shares the same theology. ]
I have someone in Thorne I can talk to. Ask him to keep watch, as best he can. You can trust him.
[ It's not quite a question, but that he's saying it aloud at all implies that one is there: whether or not Dean even wants word of this going beyond their conversation. Whatever is going on, it seems Lucifer has a personal interest in Dean and his friend both. If Dean thinks it better to leave matters be for now, he will. ]
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Geralt's one thing, Dean's confident in him. Some rando guy, on the other hand? )
Look- no offense... I trust you. But if your guy goes kicking around a hornet's nest... We don't need to give him a reason to give up on pretense and go ham. Anonymity's probably one of the only things keeping him on a leash right now.
( If they out Lucifer to the whole damn world, he's not gonna have any reason to play nice anymore. That's the last thing they want.
This ain't a no, he's just got his reservations here. )
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[ Stephen strikes him as a practical man; he trusts him, in large part because Sam does, but he can acknowledge that when it comes down to it, he doesn't know Stephen well enough to say what might happen should their agendas not align. Hasn't happened between them. They aren't on those terms yet, where Geralt would be willing to take responsibility on the man's behalf.
He leaves it at that. Beyond a warning, there isn't much else to do. In a sense, his concerns settle closer to home: Dean himself. Physically, with the miles separating them, he imagines Lucifer can do little. And Dean did not tell him he has someone in Thorne already to speak to nor ask for who Geralt means, which suggests his ties to those who live in the castle are minimal.
But he's seen enough of Dean's past to understand there are more ways than one to bleed. ]
Has he been coming here to look for you?
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But at the end of the day, Dean still doesn't know him. Maybe it wouldn't make a difference. )
Just once.
( He sighs, reaching down to grab a bar rag. He uses it to scrub away Lucifer's mark with a note of finality — an unnecessary action when he could probably just will it away, but he can't shake the itch to do something physical about it. If Geralt weren't here, he might even bust out a sander. Wear the wood down. Fill it up. Polish it smooth.
This is better than nothing. )
He might be back. Might not. If he shows up when the gang's all here, he'd probably learn to stay scarce. Dude's dangerous and full of himself, but I doubt he'd try to tangle with a whole bar full of hunters at once. Not until he gets his bearings, anyway.
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It says enough, that Dean seems to feel a tavern full of hunters might be enough to keep Lucifer away, or at least make him hesitate. That's worth noting. Father of demons or not, he still has a things he's cautious of. Some time, he might ask Dean exactly what it all means, between fighting the devil and winning and fucking up the end of days (or one of them, apparently), but.
A conversation for later. ]
Let's hope it doesn't come to that.
[ He'd rather not cast that wager. Even in the Horizon, matters can grow more complicated than...petty vandalism. Which seems to be a thing that demons in Dean's world do. He doesn't add anything else. Just thinks, in the meantime, he might ride by the Roadhouse a bit more often. ]
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( It's an unhappy mutter, punctuated by Dean gently tossing the rag into the small bar sink.
If it does come to that, he gets the feeling Geralt wouldn't sit on the sidelines. He gets the feeling he'd have a partner on the field. That doesn't solve anything, he knows it wouldn't be enough to win a real fight, but it's enough for him — or it's at least enough to leave him feeling about two percent less crappy than he did before this conversation.
Which he doesn't say, not in so many words. Instead, what Geralt gets is a solemn, weighted: )
Thanks. I know you got a million better places to be right now, tackling scorpions or getting frisky with Sam out there in the middle of nowhere, so... Thank you.
( For showing up when he asked. For listening to his novella and taking it seriously. For sticking around.
He's never been one to shy away from expressing gratitude, least of all for stuff like this. )
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He gets it. It's difficult to explain—how it happens, when you learn from early on that you can rely on very few, when it isn't exactly a source of disappointment or a case of mistrust. It just is. People protect their own. And it takes a lot before it ever sinks in that maybe, for once, you happen to count as part of that.
There's a nod, the only acknowledgement of the depth of what Dean's saying, before Geralt makes a vague dismissive sound. ]
His turn on watch, anyhow. He can converse with the scorpions. [ Though it's true he shouldn't leave Sam alone too long. They're further out than usual, and Sam's not as familiar with the landscape.
Dean gets a hand on the shoulder as Geralt rises from his seat. ] If you've plans to wrestle a devil some time, do tell. I'll place a wager.
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But it's just that: a moment, one that doesn't linger. One that transitions easily and habitually into obligatory humor. Serious to sarcastic in one swift maneuver, as is the Winchester way. )
Yeah, okay. Shut up and get out of my bar.
( Like he's even remotely annoyed by that exchange. Like he'd ever actually kick Geralt — or anybody he legitimately likes — out of the place he innately wants to populate with them.
Geralt does have work to do. There's nothing else to be done now aside from that warning, and the informational broadcast surrounding it.
They're good.
When Geralt leaves, Dean does bust out some sandpaper to take to the space where not even a hint of the mark exists anymore. For posterity. )