Chapter 7: The Apostle of Tarsus

Words: 5,197

Months did pass, about two, in fact. Tress and I lived in bliss, going out on dates, attending church, making love, just getting to know each other better. We went bowling and played board games a lot. I couldn't resist breaking the rules of the games on purpose, knowing it would make her angry, and then laughing at her as she fumed at me. It was so cute how competitive she could be over something so silly.

And there was the dancing. Tress loved to go dancing. We'd hit up a rock n' roll club every weekend and she and I would let loose out there with all the other couples. Not me so much; I'm not much of a dancer - I'd just kind of move to the music while she went crazy all over me, tossing her hair around and climbing me like a tree. I loved that part. I loved watching her, so sexy with her hips swaying and her arms around my neck. When Tress let go and lost herself in the music, there was nothing like watching her body move.

Often, I thought of hunting, and of Dean, and I'd ask Castiel questions that always received the same elusive answers.

"Cas, when can Paul come home?"

"Soon, Sam. Soon. It's not safe yet."

And then, "Cas, when can we bring Dean here?"

"Soon, Sam. Soon. The time isn't quite right."

Then came the day that was the worst, and one of the best, of my life. The day when all of Castiel's betrayals came to light.

Tress had been acting squirrely all morning, grinning and giggling whenever she'd look at me like she had a secret. I gave her a kiss and we both went to work, but I didn't see her for the rest of the day.

When I came over that night, the atmosphere had become vastly different.

Tress had given me a key about two months before. I let myself in, and couldn't have been more stunned by what I saw.

Religious statues overcame every inch of the living room. Figurines of the Virgin Mary, Jesus, and angels occupied any bit of free space on each end table, and had been lined up between the door and the rest of the apartment, forming some sort of tiny wall of protection. That was an amazing sight in and of itself, but then there were the crosses to contend with. Crucifixes and crosses of many types and sizes had been hung on every wall of the living room from floor to ceiling as if the place had been transformed into a hunter's ultimate ward against evil. Except Tress was no hunter.

Like all this wasn't perplexing enough, Father Calero sat in the arm chair, facing the front door. His face was stern and ready.

"What's going on?" I asked, indicating the state of the room. "Where's Tress?"

That's when I realized I could hear her breathing, quick with fear. She was sitting behind the arm chair. Hiding. My first thought was that something had happened with the demons. Had they tried to hurt her? Had they done something to Paul?

"Sam, would you show me your left shoulder, please?"

I couldn't have been more confused by that request. "You want to see my shoulder?"

Father Calero just nodded.

"Why?"

"Do it!" Tress snapped from behind the chair.

I leaned over a bit, trying to see her. "Tress, what's going on?"

Sighing, Father Calero sat forward and said, "Sam, do you have a birthmark on your left shoulder?"

As can be expected, I had no idea why he wanted to know a thing like that, but I answered his question anyway in hopes it would shed some light on why he and Tress were behaving as they were. "Yes. A little one. It's sort of in the shape of South America."

Tress let out a small whimper. "I told you."

Lowering his head, Father Calero sighed again, and stood up. "That's all the proof I need, then. Theresa, come out from behind the chair. You'll be okay. You must be strong and face your adversary."

Adversary? "What are you talking about, Father Calero?" The way they were acting, it was making me uncomfortable. "Would you mind telling me what's going on?"

Tress stood and came out from behind the chair. She clutched a crucifix to her chest. The look on her face... I'll never forget it. She was terrified. Wide-eyed, panting in fear, shaking... and she wasn't reacting that way to Father Calero. I couldn't deny by the way she looked at my face that Tress was afraid of me.

Taking her arm to reassure her, Father Calero began to explain. "A few months ago, I started reading a series of articles written in a religious journal by a man named Finlay Keel."

Keel? Could he be a relative of Alva's?

"This man had translated some controversial and unaccepted manuscripts that were thought by some to be extra books of the Bible. They were in Aramaic, a language that not many people on Earth know - the language of Jesus's time. His theories are wild and not accepted by many, and at first, I thought they were a little out there too.

"That was until I met you."

Oh, no... it began to dawn on me just what this may be about.

Father Calero continued, with Tress half hiding herself behind him. "These articles detailed a possible end of the world. That it would all come down to a fight between the archangel Michael and the fallen angel Lucifer that would end the lives of at least half the world's population. But it seems that angels cannot walk the Earth without taking a human vessel. Someone has to act as Michael's vessel, and..."

"...And someone has to act as Lucifer's," I finished for him, my face falling. There was no hiding it; they already knew.

Nodding, Father Calero said, "The article described what these vessels were supposed to look like. The vessel of Michael fits your brother's description perfectly, but you already know that, don't you?"

Now I nodded, looking at Tress sadly.

"You showed Theresa a picture of him, so she confirmed it for me. I suppose it won't be a surprise to you to know that the description of Lucifer's vessel fits you perfectly, will it?"

I shook my head.

"You may have noticed that I reacted to you a bit strangely back when you came into my office to ask for the rosary, all those months ago."

"I had noticed that."

"Yes, well, that's because I had been reading those articles, and they said that the vessel of Lucifer would bear the initials S.W., with the name of a weapon. Like the Winchester gun. They described the birthmark and where it would be located. They also said something that didn't make any sense to me until you mentioned your nickname for Theresa. One article said, 'He will call his woman by a lock of hair.' And you call her Tress."

My mind screamed at me to defend myself, to assure them that just because I was Lucifer's vessel, it didn't mean that I was evil. But the look on Tress's face, how terrified she was of me... it was still throwing me for a loop. She, being brought up in the Catholic church, and the man she loves turns out to be the instrument of her religion's main embodiment of evil. What would happen to us after this?

Because I remained silent, Father Calero went on speaking. "Still, Finlay Keel's theories seemed outlandish because he said that these vessels hadn't even been born yet, that they would be born in 1979 and 1983. He explained that they would be carried through time on multiple occasions by a rebel angel. When I told Theresa that, she knew exactly who this rebel angel might be."

At this point, Tress spoke up, although her voice still shook. "I got a key to your room at The Millstone and we waited there for him. Your friend in the trench coat?"

I covered my face with my hand. "Oh, no..."

"One of the articles had a diagram of a sigil that would send an angel back to Heaven, at least temporarily. It explained how to use it. So we drew it on the back of the door and when he came in, I put my hand on the sigil, just like the article said," Tress explained. She held up her hand to demonstrate, and then I could see the Band-Aid on her finger from where she'd cut herself to draw the symbol in blood. "I didn't think it would really work. It's crazy, to think some guy in a trench coat could be a rebel angel who carries men through time." She laughed, sounding a little hysterical. "But it did work! He turned to look at us and screamed before he disappeared in a brilliant flash of light. He really disappeared! He truly was an angel!"

"And that convinced us," Father Calero finished. "That convinced us that you really were the vessel of Lucifer."

Tress spoke directly to me for the first time, instead of just talking in my general direction like she had been. "I found your notes. The ones you wrote on the paper taped to the wall."

Again, I covered my face with my hand.

"Just what does all that mean, Sam? 'Theresa dies, early 1978.' Were you planning something? Did you romance me just to..."

Finally, I spoke up. "No, Tress, I swear, I didn't come here to hurt you. I came here to save you. You were supposed to die from this brain tumor, but the rosary helped save your life."

"What does my brain tumor have to do with me dying in 1978?"

I just gaped at that question. It made no sense.

She continued. "And how did you know about...?" Tress put a hand to her stomach. "You are from the future, aren't you? Oh my God, how can this be real?"

Father Calero put a protective hand on her arm and ushered her behind him again. "I didn't fully believe those articles until we saw your friend disappear. And now we know who you really are."

"But that's not me," I tried to explain. "I would never say yes to Lucifer, not ever. I can't help that I'm supposed to be his vessel; it doesn't mean that I'm a bad person. It tortures me to even think of doing any of the things that Lucifer would want to do to the world, to fight my own brother to the death... I could never do it, I swear." I tried to catch Theresa's eye. "Tress, you know me. You love me, and I love you. You know I could never hurt you."

"Be strong, Theresa. Lucifer is a master manipulator," Father Calero warned.

"I'm not Lucifer!" I cried.

Tress put her hand on Father Calero's arm now, letting him know that she was strong and could speak for herself. "Sam, I'm sorry, but I can't take that chance. You're the vessel of Lucifer. I have to go this alone from now on."

Shaking my head, I groaned, "No..."

She shook her head too. "I can't, Sam, I just can't. I'm sorry, but... you can't be allowed to help me raise our baby."

Our... I almost couldn't form words after hearing that. "Our baby?"

Tress nodded. "Sam, I've been to the doctor. I found out today that I'm two months pregnant."

My mind reeled, and I began to pace the carpet in front of the door with my hands in my hair. She was pregnant with our baby.

"That's why I went to see Father Calero, to get him to bless our child. And he started telling me about his concerns for me and you, and... Sam, I promise you our child will be raised in the church to try to save his or her soul. But you can't be a part of it."

I nearly exploded. "You can't keep me out of my own child's life! Please, don't do this to me!"

Tress burst into tears. "How can I trust you after finding out a thing like this? Do you have any idea what this means?" I took a few steps toward her, and Father Calero put himself solidly between us, a warning hand held out. We began to circle the room like fighters in a boxing ring. "How do I know Satan isn't already in there?" She sobbed mournfully. "Sam, what did you put in me? I saw Rosemary's Baby!"

I couldn't help it, I laughed at the absurdity of what she'd just said. It made them both jump. "What do I have to do? Do I have to touch one of these crosses?" Going to the nearest wall, I put my hand on a crucifix and held it for what seemed like a sufficient amount of time, then took it off the wall and pressed it to my face. "See? It doesn't burn me. No Lucifer, just Sam in here."

A ray of hope appeared on Tress's face, but she still shook her head. "No, I can't allow myself to be swayed by your tricks. 'Even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light.'"

"Tress, look at me. Can't you see how happy we would be together? You, me, and our baby. Please don't take that away from us." I must've looked like a little lost puppy at that moment, having no idea if such a face would gain back her trust or just make her more suspicious of my motives. "I wasn't trying to put some kind of Satanic monster baby inside you. I just assumed you were on birth control."

Rolling her eyes, Tress replied, "Sam, I'm Catholic."

I almost couldn't help but laugh at that - it was kind of funny - but I held it back. "I should have thought of that. But I didn't, and it just happened, and here we are. Please don't run from me. I want to be a father to our child."

She just kept shaking her head. "I should have known there was something wrong here. It was all too good to be true. You were too perfect. You were everything I wanted in a man. Cute, kind, sweet, and the sex was so good..."

"...The sex was that good?" I asked before I could stop myself.

Tress shouted back, "You were just temptation! And now look where we are!"

"Tress, please..."

Without acknowledging my pleas, she said, "If the baby is a girl, I'll name it after the mother of Jesus, and if the baby is a boy, I'll name it after the apostle of Tarsus. This baby may be your child, but we can save it yet."

At this point, I broke. I started to rush at her, intending to take her in my arms and beg her not to leave me, but she held up the crucifix in her hand at arm's length and brandished it like a weapon, like the mere sight of it was supposed to make me shrivel up and scream in pain. "'Be on your guard! Your enemy the devil is like a roaring lion! He prowls around looking for someone to chew up and swallow. Stand up to him! Stand firm in what you believe!'" Tress cried.

Her religious fervor almost scared me, but I had to remember how she'd been raised and who I now was to her. The crucifix could not hurt me, though, so I grabbed her arm and wrenched it out of the way, taking her in my arms and trying to kiss her. Tress, of course, cried out in fear and struggled with me. Father Calero wanted to intervene, but he simply wasn't as strong as me; his attempts to make me let go of her did little to dislodge Tress from my embrace.

"Tress, can't you see it's me?" I kissed her cheeks, her lips, her chin, with no response but frightened struggles. "You know me, you love me, just use your empathy to feel what's in my heart. I want us to get married and raise our child together. Please, Tress, I can't help what I am. I would never say yes to Lucifer, not ever. Please trust me again!"

In retrospect, I think it may've been a mistake to bring up the empathy; I knew it wasn't a subject Tress was comfortable talking about, it was more just something she did and didn't acknowledge out loud. She let out a scream so full of terror that I let go of her immediately. It tore me up to hear her scream like that over me touching her. I was trying to woo Tress back into my arms, but she could only look at it as restraint.

Tress ran from me then, into the kitchen, where she took a butcher knife out of the block. With Father Calero and I watching in horror, she held the knife up in front of her and aimed it at her stomach, threatening to stab herself. "If you come any closer, I'll kill this baby right here and now! Don't think I won't do it!"

Even Father Calero tried to talk her out of it. "No, Theresa, that's not the way. Put the knife down."

"I'll put the knife down as soon as he leaves," Tress declared.

Stunned, I took a step toward her, and she brought the knife a few inches closer to her body, giving me an intense look that told me that she meant it. "Tress, I..."

"Just go," she commanded.

Every part of my being told me to stay and fight, but I knew that I couldn't. Tress meant what she said. I don't pretend to fully understand her fear and her beliefs, but then again, I know what's in my heart regarding being Lucifer's vessel. I've had to live with it for months. Tress had only known about it for a few hours. So I backed out of the kitchen, still trying to convince her to change her mind.

"I'm going to leave for now, but this isn't over, Tress. I'm sorry, I know you're scared, but you can't deny you still love me. You know deep down that I'm not a bad person. Please, just take a little time to think this over."

I had reached the front door. Father Calero opened it for me. "Don't worry about her, Sam. We will take care of Theresa." He shoved me out into the hall. "Go back to your own time. You're not welcome here anymore." And he slammed the door in my face.

I stood outside the door for a few minutes, stunned, unable to move, just listening to Tress cry inside the apartment while Father Calero tried to comfort her. A desperate, weak little voice inside me insisted that Father Calero was one of them, that he was possessed by one of the demons, and they were working to eradicate me from Tress's life so they could get at Paul... but a stronger voice said no. You know what's really going on here, that voice said. Do the work, stupid.

Voices began to play themselves back in my head. Things I had heard over the course of the last few months. They told me that something was wrong here. Something didn't fit.

Tress's comment that The Eagles showed a lot of promise. Bo, telling me I was younger than I looked. The fact that Tress had heard of the Exorcist book, but had no knowledge of the movie's existence. The suspicions that little Alva had thrown into the mix, and even the boy's current age. Do the math, Sam. Do the math. All of it had me rushing outside to find the latest newspaper.

It wasn't the weekend, so the paper wasn't that thick, but it still felt like a weight in my hands as I examined it closely. June 28, 1978, it said just under the name of the paper.

I looked up at the billboard for Animal House across the street from Tress's building. Coming December 1978, National Lampoon's Animal House.

Somehow, at that moment, it dislodged a memory that hadn't come to me before, a memory of Dean once saying that he wished he could have seen Animal House when it first came out...

...in the summer of 1978.

There was a rushing of wind beside me, of angel's wings coming to rest. I didn't have to look to know it was Castiel. "You know what happened?"

He sighed in regret. "Yes, Sam, I know. I'm sorry."

I looked at the newspaper again. "Something isn't right about all this. You might as well come clean. What's going on here, Castiel?"

For a moment, he said nothing. Then he sighed once more. "It's all come to a head, so I might as well tell you." Castiel waved his hand before my eyes and said something in Enochian, just as he had before he brought me here. I looked at the newspaper again. What I saw made me sit down hard on the bench behind me.

The date on the paper had changed.

It now said October 26.

1972.

In stunned silence, I looked up at the billboard. It had also changed.

Coming December 1972, The Poseidon Adventure.

Somehow, I found my voice. "You've been playing me this whole time. You didn't take me back to 1978 to save Tress's life."

Castiel agreed with me. "No, I didn't."

"You brought me back to 1972 so I could meet her and..." Tress's words ran through my mind again. "The mother of Jesus is Mary, and the apostle of Tarsus is..."

Castiel nodded. "Saint Paul."

I closed my eyes, letting it all wash over me. "Holy... shit. I've been so blind. All those people, never asking a thing about Paul, and you give me some bullshit explanation and I just swallow it. People weren't asking about Paul not because of some angel mojo you performed on them, but because it's 1972 and he hasn't been born yet. He doesn't even exist until 1973."

Nodding again, Castiel said, "Yes. You're right, Sam."

"There never were any demons. Paul isn't in hiding and no one made Tress sick. She just got cancer and that's all."

"Yes," Castiel confirmed.

I kept on talking. "The baby Tress is carrying is Paul Callan."

The angel repeated, "Yes."

"Then... I... am Paul Callan's father."

The blood beat so loudly in my ears that I almost couldn't hear Castiel's response. "Yes," he said.

Yes. "Oh, my God." I dropped the newspaper and put my head in my hands. This truth, it was more than overwhelming. "Paul said his mother died in 1978. Then, Tress got cancer twice, didn't she? First, in 1972, and then it reoccurred in 1978. The second time killed her."

"Yes, Sam." He just stood there, responding so coolly as if he hadn't just pulled the biggest sham on me that changed my life forever. "You've figured it all out."

"Why?" I asked. My voice shook with emotion. "Why did you do this to me? You did some angel trick to my eyes so I wouldn't see evidence of the true date. You lied to get me here. You lied about everything." Standing up, I faced Castiel, barely resisting the urge to hit him. "Why?"

"I did not lie about everything." Even with my tall frame looming over him, Cas did not seem intimidated. "It is as I told you. Paul Callan is one of the most important vessels that ever lived. He must be born. Only the unique combination of Lucifer's vessel and this woman can create that kind of vessel in this time period. It must be now. Nothing could be allowed to interfere, Sam. Not foreknowledge, not emotion, nothing. You couldn't know."

"What kind of vessel is he, Castiel? After all the lies you've told me, you owe me at least one truth."

With a curt nod, he said, "I suppose I do. Sam, he is the vessel of one of the Seraphim. Do you know what that is?"

"It's some kind of angel."

"Not just some kind of angel. The highest order of angel. They are so bright, not even I can look upon them. The task of guarding God's throne has been entrusted to them. Their might is strong and their vengeance absolute. If Michael fails to take Lucifer down, only a Seraph can defeat him.

"Seraphim normally do not walk the Earth. A vessel with the strength to contain a serpent of fire is excessively rare, the rarest of all vessels. This is why it was so important that Paul Callan be born. I'm sorry that I had to deceive you, but nothing could be allowed to keep the union of Sam Winchester and Theresa Callan from happening."

I just shook my head. "Why Tress? Is she some kind of vessel too?"

"No."

"Then how could she be the mother of a vessel like that?"

"Sam, you might as well ask why the Virgin Mary?" Castiel replied, shrugging. "We don't always understand how the formula works. It just does."

"So, now what? I've played my part, and now I'm just supposed to leave Tress and my son and go back to 2010?"

"Precisely," answered Castiel, and reached for my forehead.

"No!" I cried, smacking away his hand. "I'm not going to just be a sperm donor and leave my child to grow up without a father!"

"Theresa doesn't want to see you anymore. She will pass away in 1978 and Paul Callan will be raised by the church. That is as it is."

"No!" I yelled again. People passing us on the street turned to look. "If that's what is supposed to happen, then I'll change it. We'll go get Dean and we'll both talk to Tress and get her to change her mind. He's the vessel of Michael the archangel. Both Tress and Father Calero will listen to him."

Castiel just shook his head. "Paul Callan grows up without his parents. That is as it is, and that's how it will stay. We're not taking any more chances with fate."

"Castiel!" I grabbed him by the lapels of his trench coat and yanked him forward.

"Hey there now!" A passing policeman crossed the street, rushing toward us. "What's the trouble?"

He stole my attention for a moment as I turned my head to look at him. When I turned back, Castiel touched the space between my eyes.

A split second later, we were back in the spare room at Sodalitas Quaerito, back in 2010. I took a moment to look around and then I shook Castiel in my hands, furious. "Goddamn it, no! You take me back! Take me back to 1972!"

Blood ran from his nose. The trip, as it often was, had been too much for the angel. Castiel was passing out in my grasp.

But I was too angry to stop. I shook his limp body and continued to yell at him. At some point, furious tears sprang from my eyes, and that was how everyone found us when they came running in.

My brother looked at me and then at Castiel and said, "Sam, what the hell is going on?"

Dean was a sight for sore eyes. As far as I was concerned, I hadn't seen him in months. "Dean! Tell him he has to take me back!" I sobbed. I shook Castiel again. "Make him take me back!"

"Take you back? Take you back where?"

"To 1972!" I cried. I was near hysterics; my ability to be coherent had temporarily left me.

"Sam, Cas isn't in any shape to take anybody anywhere. Come on, let them take him somewhere where he can rest up. Mr. Keel?"

Alva and Evelyn gathered Cas up as best they could and dragged him from the room.

That's when I caught sight of Paul. The adult version of my son. I couldn't help it, I moved toward him, but he backed away, startled by how I was looking at him. Dean told me later that I had a wild, hysterical look in my eyes. No wonder I scared him. "Paul? Hey Paul. Don't be afraid."

"What's going on?" he asked. "What did you do to Castiel?"

"Nothing, he..." How could I explain it? "Cas will be fine. Paul, I want to talk to you about your father. I know a little something about him."

Paul squinted at me suspiciously. "What? How could you know anything about my father?"

"Because... I just do. Paul, your father didn't leave you because he didn't care about you and your mother. No, he loved you both very much. Maybe your father wanted to be there to watch you grow up, but he was forced to leave. Isn't it possible that he was actually a very good man, a misunderstood man, caught up in something he couldn't control? Isn't that possible?"

It wasn't working, of course; the look on Paul's face spoke of nothing but offense. "Where do you get off saying anything about my father? He was a no-good bastard who left my mother and broke her heart, and then left me to rot in an orphanage my whole life. You don't know anything about him!"

Shaking my head, I babbled, "Did you ever think that your father couldn't be there for you because he hadn't even been born yet?" And then I collapsed to my knees, laughing hysterically. It was ludicrous, wasn't it? Here I was, faced with my son, and he was older than I was.

Paul, bewildered, just glared at me like I was insane.

Dean knelt down next to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Paul, I don't know what's going on, but I'll talk to my brother and find out, okay? Why don't you leave us alone?"

Nodding, Paul took one last gawking look at the crazy man puddled on the floor and left the room.

Dean turned to me. "Sam, come on." He took out a flask. "You drink from this, okay? After the performance you just put on, I'm sure you could use a belt of whiskey."

I didn't take the flask. Instead, I nearly tackled him in a hug, not only because I'd missed him, but because I needed the comfort of family. "Dean, he took me away from them," I babbled and sobbed. "He just took me away."

He couldn't have an idea in hell what I was talking about, but Dean hugged me anyway, patting my back. "It's okay, Sammy. Whatever's happened, it's okay. We'll sort it out."

I don't know how long we knelt on the floor like that, me having my little breakdown, but eventually the tears subsided and I was able to get control of myself. And I told Dean everything.

SEQUEL COMING SOON!