The Chemical Wedding

Summary: Cristina Rosenkreuz thought she was just an average, unextraordinary girl from Massachusetts; that is, she did until a messenger from Heaven showed up at her apartment with some life changing news. Soon, Cristina finds herself caught up with two hunters and a fallen angel as they're on the run from the forces of Heaven and Hell alike, racing against time to gatecrash the wedding that could bring about the end of humanity.

Note for reader: If you want Sam, Dean and Cas, you can skip the prologue, although reading it will help you understand things later in the story. Cas appears at the end of chapter one, and Sam and Dean appear in chapter two.

A/N: Somebody really needs to tie my muse to a tree and gag her so she can stop giving me new fanfic ideas and running away with them before I've finished the dozen ones I already have on the go. So, apologies that this is yet another new story and not an update on my existing ones. Sunday is also my two year anniversary of being on this site, so I have a goal of reaching a total of 350K words before then. As of commencing this chapter, I have approximately 4000 words to go.

This story is really loosely based off of an esoteric text from the seventeenth century called "The Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz" and some of the works of the Elizabethan alchemist Dr John Dee, who was the first person to write down records in Enochian. Since the writers of Supernatural have been playing round with Biblical mythology since season four, I thought this was something that fits right in with that. Timeline-wise, this is sort of vaguely later season-eight but with Cas' storyline with the angels taking a different direction, or it could be a sort of season nine. There's also gonna be Destiel in later chapters, assuming that isn't canon already by the in-universe time I imagine this story happening.

Also note, Strasbourg in 1464 was a German city, not French (although Germany as we know it today didn't exist yet).

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, and I don't own any of the plot points that originally came from the texts previously mentioned.

Prologue

Strasbourg, Germany
1464

A quill dipped into ink for the final time, before being set to a page to finish the last words that were to be recorded in the leather-bound book. It scratched out a few characters in elaborate, flowing script, before being set aside to rest by a tallow candle that was almost burned out. It was fortunate that the scribe had completed his work before its light finally died.

A brief moment passed in which the ink was allowed to dry, before the volume was closed swiftly and a leather cord knotted around it to fasten it shut. The cover was plain leather - the expense of having it etched or stamped had been too much for the owner to afford – but having a bound notebook at all showed that the contents were clearly important enough to be recorded on a more robust medium than loose-leaf paper.

Rising from the chair by his desk, the writer picked up the book and crossed the small room to the narrow bed situated against one wall. He knelt down beside it, and brushed away a few of the reeds covering the floor to reveal the wooden boards underneath. The room he was renting was on the second floor, and the sounds of exuberant and likely drink-fuelled revelry drifted up from the room below, but they were faint enough to be ignored. The man was grateful for that. Although he had now completed his work, he still would not respond favourably to being disturbed.

Reaching into the space under the bed, the man hooked his fingers into an uneven crevice in the floorboards and pulled upwards, dislodging the plank of wood from its place. A hand descended into the space beneath and a moment later reappeared, clutching a wooden box. The man pulled it towards him before producing a key that had been suspended from a length of twine that hung around his neck, hidden beneath his shirt. Beside the twine hung a far more expensive looking chain, suspended from which was a locket containing a lock of hair belonging to his daughter. It had been many years since he'd seen her, but the man hoped that now his work was complete he would soon be able to be with her again.

He opened the box and placed the book inside – there was no delicate velvet lining or silk cloth to wrap it in, but merely having the book encased in a block of oak provided some extra level of security.

Locking the box once again, he placed it back in the hollow space beneath the bed, his fingers tangling with cobwebs as he lowered it in. It was only a temporary hiding place, but until he moved on to another town once again, then this was the safest place to keep the book hidden. Replacing the floorboards and the reeds, the man then backed away from the bed and straightened up, feeling a sense of satisfaction that his work was now complete. For five years he had worked on creating an accurate and faithful account of what had happened to him that Easter in 1459, and now that important task in his life was done.

His sense of contentment, however, was short lived, as he heard a cold voice speak from behind him. "Herr Rosenkreutz, I presume?"

A chill ran down his spine. He was certain there had been no sound of footsteps in the corridor outside, nor of the door opening. Indeed, it had been locked. That could only mean that whoever this visitor was, he had arrived by unnatural means.

Rosenkreutz turned round slowly, his eyes falling on the form of a man of around forty years of age, dressed in a brown overcoat and riding boots. The newcomer had brown hair with a short, greying beard, and his hard grey eyes had fixed on the younger man before him with a disturbing intensity. Rosenkreutz swallowed, before responding as confidently as he could manage. "I am afraid you are mistaken, sir, I am not he. May I inquire as to who you may be, and how you gained access to my room?"

The man only smirked at the implied challenge in Rosenkreutz' words. "No, there is no mistake. You are indeed the gentleman I am looking for, and you have something I wish to acquire. I think you know to what I refer."

Rosenkreutz licked his dry lips, trying to hide his fear and regretting deeply that he should be discovered now, when at last his work was done. "I am afraid your meaning escapes me. I do not know…"

He had neither the time nor the courage to finish that sentence, as the grey eyed stranger stepped forward threateningly, blinking his eyes. As he opened them again, Rosenkreutz saw to his horror that the pupils and irises had turned to white. He tried to back away, but with the backs of his knees against the bed, he could only stand and watch as the stranger approached.

"Do not insult me," the white eyed man snarled, leaning in closer and baring his teeth. "I know that you are in possession of knowledge imparted to you by angels, and that in these past years you have worked to create written records of all you know. Now I wish for you to tell me where these records are."

Although he was trembling, Rosenkreutz stared at the man – nay, demon – defiantly. "I will not…"

The demon merely looked irritated, and raised his right hand before clenching a fist. The motion stopped Rosenkreutz mid-sentence, as he suddenly found he was unable to speak, or even breathe. "And if you refuse, I will ask you to speak this knowledge to me first hand. Then I will inscribe a record of it for myself, in your blood."

He then waved his fist, and by some unnatural force, Rosenkreutz felt himself be pulled upwards and flung bodily across the room, before colliding with the stone wall and falling roughly to the floor. As he impacted with the floorboards, the already dying candle went out. Now he was alone in the darkness with an agent of Hell.

Bruised and sore, he slowly picked himself up. He was scared, but could draw a small degree of comfort from the fact that the demon clearly did not know where the book was. The secrets contained in its pages must remain hidden. That was all that mattered. Rosenkreutz was quickly beginning to fear that his life would be the price of keeping those secrets, but in Heaven's grand plan, that was of little consequence.

"So, I will ask this only once again," the demon said, advancing towards the younger man and raising his hand, which caused Rosenkreutz to be forced backwards and pinned against the wall. "Where is it?"

He was met with only a silent glare of defiance.

"Very well," the demon said, slowly cocking his head. He made no further movement, but Rosenkreutz began to feel a prickling sensation behind his eyes. Something began to burn in the back of his throat, a weight pressed down on his chest. At first it was merely uncomfortable, but as the feelings intensified he cried out in pain, tasting blood in his mouth.

"Where is the book?" the demon demanded, but a moment later Rosenkreutz saw through pained and bloodshot eyes a sight he had not seen for years. An intense white light began to fill the room, flooding in from some unknown source but expanding to fill every inch of space. Rosenkreutz knew enough to look away and close his eyes before it reached its full intensity.

The demonic force assaulting him suddenly ceased, and Rosenkreutz crumpled to the floor. There was the sound of something crashing and breaking around him, as whatever had just arrived in the room attacked the demon. Once the light had dimmed, Rozenkreutz dared try to crack open his eyelids again. Through half-open eyes he saw the dark shapes of wings flickering in the shadows. An angel had come.

"You will not find it, Mammon," a female voice declared, as the demon rose to his feet from where he'd been flung into the fireplace. Rosenkreutz was still too dazed to see clearly, but he was able to make out as slender, blonde haired form in a pale blue dress facing off against the white-eyed man. In her hand she gripped a long silver blade, that Rosenkreutz was able to remember and recognise from his experiences five years ago: an angel blade.

The demon laughed. "Maybe, Lydia, but I have freed many demons from Hell to search for it. You are the only angel to walk on Earth in over a thousand years. Do you think you can stop us all?"

She lunged for him with the blade, but not before he'd brought up his right hand in a slashing motion through the air. The act had not been intended to harm her, but instead, with a sudden shock, Rosenkreutz felt something smooth and cold slice across his neck. Pain burned into his throat and something wet spilled out over his skin. It was with a despairing ache that he realised he would never in fact see his daughter again. Air ceased to flow into his lungs, and with a faint gurgle, his body quickly became still and his eyes unseeing.

The angel roared in anger, trying to finish her attack as she realised what the demon had done. However, he evaded the strike, throwing himself sideways to fall through the room's only window. The body began to fall towards the ground, but as it did so, the man's mouth opened and black smoke began to stream urgently out. The white eyes darkened once again into grey, but remained dull and glassy as the body hit the floor.

Lydia stood by the window looking down at the corpse, preparing to spread her wings to give chase. However, the smoke had already dissipated, vanishing beneath the dark cloak of night. There would be no hope of catching him, and so she turned her attention back to the room and to the body of Christian Rosenkreutz, lying cold on the floor by the desk. It wasn't within her powers to resurrect him, although there were others in Heaven who could have, but she knew that wasn't necessary. His work was now done and his memoirs completed, and he would be rewarded in Heaven.

The angel crossed over to the bed, staring down as if looking straight through it to where the book was hidden. She knew she could move it and find some other hiding place, but that was exactly what Mammon would expect if he thought the book had indeed been here to start with. Second-guessing was a game she knew how to play. Instead, she merely lifted her left hand to stretch out her fingers in the space above the bed. A light glowed briefly from her palm and then was extinguished, but Enochian cloaking symbols had now been carved into the underside of the floorboards where the book was hidden. That would be the only security measure necessary.

Well, that and to take the key from around Rosenkreutz' neck. That item, unlike the book, was one that it would be possible to hide in Heaven.

Moments later, she disappeared with a flutter of wings, leaving behind no trace as the people downstairs quickly came to find the cause of the disturbance. The box was never unearthed by demons. It remained hidden between the first and second floors of the inn, gathering dust and cobwebs, until at last it was discovered, over a century later, by a young theologian with the name Johannes Valentinus Andreae.