With The Elect
And this snippet is for bloodyfire. Her thread is right this way. If you're participating, please let me know over here.
Spoilers for all of Season Four, just to be on the safe side.
A/N: I found the title in my copy of the English translation of the Dead Sea Scrolls in the Book of War. The fragment: "...because of They name and...Michael, G[abrie]l, [Sariel and Raphael]...with the elect of..." Yes, that is how big a geek I am.
With The Elect
The stranger looked down at his own chest, the knife buried up to the hilt. He sneered at it. "Careful. You could put my eye out with that thing."
"Who are you?"
"I'm the one who grabbed your sorry ass and hauled it out of first circle of Hell, you ungrateful little shit." Lightning struck inside the bomb shelter, silhouetting the stranger with weird white light. The flourescent lights exploded, glass raining down. And behind his leather jacket, two blood red wings spanned the walls. "I'm a fucking Angel of the Lord. But you can call me Dean."
"Oh my God."
Rolling his eyes, Dean pulled the knife out of his chest. It made some crunching, sucking noises, but there was no blood. "Didja get this in a kid's meal? I've been stabbed worse with those little minty toothpicks."
"Please don't hurt me." He knelt and covered his face.
"And what the hell kind of a name is 'Cash' anyway? Did your mom want a rodeo clown or a porn star?"
"I have been unworthy in thought and deed." Cash prostrated himself on the floor. "I have been base and untrue."
"Alright, alright. Knock it off."
"I have sinned. I have sinned against my Father."
"Look, Cash, maybe I overdid it with the wings."
"Forgive me my trespasses, as I forgive those--"
"Cash!" Dean yelled, making the hunter jump. "Enough already. Jesus."
"Is he coming, too?" His voice shook.
"No. Jesus isn't coming. Jesus isn't--look, sit down. I thought you needed the hard sell."
Cash equivocated.
"I said sit down!"
Cash sat.
"Listen."
"Yes, My Lord?"
"No, no. I'm not God. I'm Dean. Call me Dean."
"Okay. Dean."
"Good. That's good." Dean sat down next to him on the concrete. "Where are your pals?"
"Pals?"
"Your posse, partners, known associates. You know, hunting buddies."
"I hunt alone."
"Seriously?" Dean raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "That's just sad, Cash."
"Working alone allows me to focus on the task at hand."
"Yeah. Right. Okay, look, you got a car?"
"Yes."
"What kind?"
"A '71 Barracuda."
"Well alright then!" Dean clapped him on the back. "Good for you. He is well pleased with you."
"God cares about what I drive?"
"Yes, yes he does. And I want you to write this down. God wants you to buy American."
Cash reached for his notepad. Dean sighed, but waited until he was done. "Anything else?"
"Light beer is for pussies."
"Okay. Got it."
"Excellent. Now. Let's go find Sam."
"Sam. My--Sam Winchester."
"Oh. Uh..."
"What?"
"I don't know how to say this."
"Try moving your lips."
"He, uh, he's...I don't know how he did it. But he turned himself into a demon."
Dean sighed. "Well. All the more reason. Gird up your loins, Betty. It's road tripping time."
Cash opened his mouth to reply, to object, but was unable to do so. Not through any divine intervention, he was just tongue tied. An awkward silence filled the shelter.
"Cash, I hate to break it to you, but you've been chosen."
"For what?"
"The Price Is Right. What do you think, dipshit? You just made Varsity. You're on God's traveling team now, son."
"Why me?"
"Why you? Why you?" Dean rolled his eyes and stood. "We don't have time for existential navel-gazing, dude. Nut up. We have to get moving. Now."
"Okay." Cash stood up, fumbled through the pockets of his trench coat for the car keys. "Can I ask...what's the rush?"
"Let's just say this isn't exactly angel-approved. Don't worry, we're still on God's side, though."
"Wait. What?"
"It's not like it's the first time an angel pulled a Fort Sumter. Fork 'em over."
"Huh?"
"The car keys, Cash, the car keys. I'm driving."
No spoilers beyond 5.02, please! I haven't even seen the previews.
Spoilers for all of Season Four, just to be on the safe side.
A/N: I found the title in my copy of the English translation of the Dead Sea Scrolls in the Book of War. The fragment: "...because of They name and...Michael, G[abrie]l, [Sariel and Raphael]...with the elect of..." Yes, that is how big a geek I am.
With The Elect
The stranger looked down at his own chest, the knife buried up to the hilt. He sneered at it. "Careful. You could put my eye out with that thing."
"Who are you?"
"I'm the one who grabbed your sorry ass and hauled it out of first circle of Hell, you ungrateful little shit." Lightning struck inside the bomb shelter, silhouetting the stranger with weird white light. The flourescent lights exploded, glass raining down. And behind his leather jacket, two blood red wings spanned the walls. "I'm a fucking Angel of the Lord. But you can call me Dean."
"Oh my God."
Rolling his eyes, Dean pulled the knife out of his chest. It made some crunching, sucking noises, but there was no blood. "Didja get this in a kid's meal? I've been stabbed worse with those little minty toothpicks."
"Please don't hurt me." He knelt and covered his face.
"And what the hell kind of a name is 'Cash' anyway? Did your mom want a rodeo clown or a porn star?"
"I have been unworthy in thought and deed." Cash prostrated himself on the floor. "I have been base and untrue."
"Alright, alright. Knock it off."
"I have sinned. I have sinned against my Father."
"Look, Cash, maybe I overdid it with the wings."
"Forgive me my trespasses, as I forgive those--"
"Cash!" Dean yelled, making the hunter jump. "Enough already. Jesus."
"Is he coming, too?" His voice shook.
"No. Jesus isn't coming. Jesus isn't--look, sit down. I thought you needed the hard sell."
Cash equivocated.
"I said sit down!"
Cash sat.
"Listen."
"Yes, My Lord?"
"No, no. I'm not God. I'm Dean. Call me Dean."
"Okay. Dean."
"Good. That's good." Dean sat down next to him on the concrete. "Where are your pals?"
"Pals?"
"Your posse, partners, known associates. You know, hunting buddies."
"I hunt alone."
"Seriously?" Dean raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "That's just sad, Cash."
"Working alone allows me to focus on the task at hand."
"Yeah. Right. Okay, look, you got a car?"
"Yes."
"What kind?"
"A '71 Barracuda."
"Well alright then!" Dean clapped him on the back. "Good for you. He is well pleased with you."
"God cares about what I drive?"
"Yes, yes he does. And I want you to write this down. God wants you to buy American."
Cash reached for his notepad. Dean sighed, but waited until he was done. "Anything else?"
"Light beer is for pussies."
"Okay. Got it."
"Excellent. Now. Let's go find Sam."
"Sam. My--Sam Winchester."
"Oh. Uh..."
"What?"
"I don't know how to say this."
"Try moving your lips."
"He, uh, he's...I don't know how he did it. But he turned himself into a demon."
Dean sighed. "Well. All the more reason. Gird up your loins, Betty. It's road tripping time."
Cash opened his mouth to reply, to object, but was unable to do so. Not through any divine intervention, he was just tongue tied. An awkward silence filled the shelter.
"Cash, I hate to break it to you, but you've been chosen."
"For what?"
"The Price Is Right. What do you think, dipshit? You just made Varsity. You're on God's traveling team now, son."
"Why me?"
"Why you? Why you?" Dean rolled his eyes and stood. "We don't have time for existential navel-gazing, dude. Nut up. We have to get moving. Now."
"Okay." Cash stood up, fumbled through the pockets of his trench coat for the car keys. "Can I ask...what's the rush?"
"Let's just say this isn't exactly angel-approved. Don't worry, we're still on God's side, though."
"Wait. What?"
"It's not like it's the first time an angel pulled a Fort Sumter. Fork 'em over."
"Huh?"
"The car keys, Cash, the car keys. I'm driving."
No spoilers beyond 5.02, please! I haven't even seen the previews.