[DCBB]: That One Last Tender Place (part 1)
“Read ‘em and weep, bitches,” Deanna said, throwing her hand of cards down with a triumphant smirk on her face.
“A straight?” Chuck said, and Risa gave a huff of laughter at his despairing look. He dropped his cards and leaned his head back against the wall. “Damn. What good is it being a prophet if I can’t even win at poker?”
Becky gave him a look, eyebrow raised. “You don’t even get visions anymore. You’re just a sore loser.”
“Another hand?” Jeremy, their regular poker dealer, asked, collecting their cards and shuffling.
Deanna shrugged. “Sure, I could go a few more rounds.” Cas scooted backwards, across the wooden floor of the cabin and into the vee of Deanna’s spread legs, her back to Deanna’s front, and handed her the tiny bottle of sparkly green polish. Deanna laughed a little. “Okay, yeah, fine, I’ll paint your nails,” she said, “but you’re going to have to play this hand for me.”
“Hey, that’s not fair,” Chuck started to protest. Deanna reached around Cas’ waist, Cas pulling her feet in closer so that Deanna could get to them easily. Deanna dabbed a bit of the nail polish onto Cas’ right big toe while Jeremy dealt their hands. Cas waited until all the cards had been dealt before picking up her hand; Deanna was usually the opposite when she played, grabbing each card as it came to her.
Becky shoved at Chuck with her shoulder, glaring before she turned a huge grin on Cas and Deanna. Deanna managed to hold down her momentary urge to pull away from Cas now that Becky had turned her attention to them. It was strange for the two of them to indulge in a public display of affection, but it was stranger still that she did, in fact, enjoy it. Lighten up, Winchester, Risa had told her not too long ago, and fuck it, Deanna really ought to listen.
As Cas studied the cards carefully, her poker face perfect, Deanna looked at the hand Cas had drawn: ace of hearts, king of diamonds, queen of clubs, and the five and seven of spades.
“Get rid of those two,” Deanna murmured, pointing at the five and seven.
“I do know how to play poker,” Cas retorted, but she discarded the ones Deanna had indicated anyway, drawing an ace and four of diamonds. Deanna resumed her work on Cas’ toenails, clipped to the quick thanks to some of the supplies they'd traded with Jo and Anna’s camp last month, which had included small luxuries like nail clippers.
“All right, I fold,” Jeremy said. “Anyone else?” Becky set her cards down, as did Chuck. “Okay, let’s see what you’ve got.”
“I have a pair of kings,” Cas said, laying them out in front of her. “Risa?”
Risa’s face was impassive-and then she showed her hand, a grin breaking out. “Three of a kind.”
-
Several hands and a pedicure later, Risa and Cas were tied for the overall winner, but it was late enough by now that they all decided to leave it at that for now. They were all tired, and they had an early morning tomorrow anyway.
“I’ll do clean up,” Deanna offered as they began to get up from the table. Becky was leaning on Risa and Chuck, barely able to stand on her feet. Despite being here for so long, she still hadn't adjusted to the reduction in their sleeping schedules, but apparently some things were hard to get used to, no matter how long it had been.
Deanna caught Cas’ gaze, grinning a little so Cas would know to wait up for her. Jeremy and the others said their goodnights and retreated to their own cabins while Cas lingered for a moment before she, too, left Deanna alone.
The broom was in the corner by the cabinet where they stored what remained of Bobby's liquor. The door was half-opened, left like that when Chuck had come back bearing gifts-which had been two bottles of whiskey in each hand-and they had drank every last drop. But now Deanna could see one hidden in the back, a dusty old bottle of Johnny Walker Blue. She wondered if Bobby had been saving it for Rufus, and nostalgia clenched at her heart, followed sharp by a wave of anger. Her parents, Pamela, Ellen, Bobby-they hadn’t fucking deserved it. No one fucking deserved it, but at least with them she could have done something.
She took the bottle out from the cabinet, popped open the cork, and poured herself a glass before refilling her empty flask. Once the bottle was back where it belonged, and she’d stolen a quick sip-the shit had a kick like nobody’s business, damn-she picked up the broom and started sweeping, losing herself in the monotony of the motions.
“Hello, Deanna.”
The voice was achingly familiar, as was the-the visage he’d chosen. It still felt like a kick to the stomach, though, seeing that easy, innocent smile. When she’d known him, John Winchester had never looked like that. Even when they weren't out on a hunt he'd always seemed haunted by ghosts. She remembered when Cas had sent her back in time, though; remembered how John had grinned as if he didn’t have a care in the world. The way Michael wore it looked wrong, like an Ingres painting trying to masquerade as a Picasso. Was he trying to appeal to the side of her that was still Daddy’s little soldier? Fuck that.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“You already know,” Michael said, sitting down on the table nearby. He smiled again, sending a shudder through her.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Michael poured himself a glass of the whisky. “You and I both know that's not quite true. I've been waiting a long time for this conversation; I think it’s one we should have had a long time ago.”
“What do you want from me?” she asked, though she already knew the answer. Her hand trembled as she squeezed the broom tightly in her grip.
“I want you to understand,” he said, taking a drink. He looked at the glass with an amused expression.
“Understand what? That you and all the other angels are dicks? Zachariah made me choke on my own lungs to get me to say yes to you. Not a pleasant experience.”
“Really, though, Deanna,” he said, as if she hadn’t spoken, “what good can possibly come from this...constant refusal to acknowledge that this is how it was always supposed to be? Free will...it's just an illusion. You have a difficult time enough as it is trusting your own decisions, after all. It’s because you have nothing to believe in."
“Yeah, you ‘find my lack of faith disturbing,’ is that it, Vader?”
His small smile didn’t look right; it gave her an uncomfortable itch in the middle of her back, right along her spine. “Humans. You’re all so...stubborn. It amazes me, your complete refusal to do what is asked of you. To go against God’s will. I had thought that you, of all people, Deanna, would be able to see my position.”
“And why the hell should I believe you?” she asked, and took a long drink. “I’ve never been on real good terms with the man upstairs anyway.” Jury was still out on if he even existed, but she wasn’t going to tell Michael that. “Everything you’re telling me just sounds like complete bullshit. I’ve made it this far without your ‘help.’ Score for free will, right there. So I’ll say it again. Fuck. Off.”
“We could fix all of this, you know.” Michael stared at his glass with vague curiosity. “We would be unstoppable. It’s what we’re meant for, you and I. You’re only hurting humanity’s chances of survival by putting off the inevitable. Unlike my brothers, you see, I don't want to hurt you, or any other humans. You are my Father's creations, after all.”
“I think I’ll decide what the right thing is for myself, thanks. Because you know what? We’ve helped save people. Innocent lives. A bunch of them probably wouldn’t be alive if not for us-which is more than you bastards can say, considering you haven’t done a damn thing to help anyone but yourselves. And if I did say yes and you and Lucifer had your little showdown, you’d torch half the planet.”
Michael shrugged. “It’s ultimately up to you to say yes. And you will say yes to me. I can already promise you that. But I won’t force you against your will like Zachariah might have.” He fixed his gaze on her now. Deanna felt trapped under his scrutiny, like a bacteria under a microscope. “I want you to make the right decision. I trust you to.”
Then he was gone, and the air rushed back into her lungs.
-
Cas was already in bed when Deanna finished up, mouth sour from Michael’s visit, stomach numb from the scotch. Deanna wasn’t surprised to see her taking a long drag on the joint she rolled up from thin paper scavenged from who knew where.
“Well, you sure took your time,” said Cas. She exhaled slowly, and Deanna coughed on the smoke. She hated the bitter-sweet smell of pot.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Deanna tugged off her boots, then walked over to the bed, nearly tripping over Cas’ shoes, the older pair with the frayed up laces that had the leather peeling back from the soles. “It’s a fucking mess in here, you know that, right?”
Cas just rolled her eyes and pulled the blankets back for her. “I don’t see you doing anything about it either,” she said without heat. Her short dark hair flopped over to one side as she tilted her head up to look at Deanna.
Deanna grunted and collapsed onto the mattress. “I don’t wanna move for at least twenty-four hours,” she said, her words slurring together. “I’m tired. I think I could sleep for days.” But she couldn’t because Jo and Anna had missed their weekly communications, and that probably meant that their radio was busted up again, or maybe there was no one left to send a message out. They should send someone to check up on them, but they also needed those extra bodies for a supply run. There still wasn't enough medication for the doctor to treat the handful of new arrivals that had shown up last week, bringing a bad cough with them. And they were running out of food and clean drinking water, running out of what remaining scraps of civilization they had left.
She jerked when Cas tapped her lightly on the cheek. “Would that make you Sleeping Beauty then?”
“What?” Deanna said, scrunching up her face and her eyes, looking up at Cas in spite of the bright light filtering in through the windows.
Cas just tilts her head. “You seem a little-”
“What, tense?”
“Distant,” Cas said, “but if you prefer tense.”
Deanna sat up, forced herself to take a slow, deep breath to force her nerves to calm, to untangle themselves. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Want something to take the edge off?”
Deanna held her breath, head still buzzing and her fingers numb from the alcohol earlier. From Bobby’s alcohol, Rufus’s alcohol. “Sure, what the hell.” She held out her hand to Cas, hoping that Cas would know what she needed, because fuck if Deanna knew herself.
“Pick your poison,” Cas said, after reaching over to the small pill bottle on the end table nearby, and she held the bottle out in one hand with her joint in the other.
Deanna wondered what was in the bottle, almost asked but bit the words down. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Instead, she took the joint from Cas’s fingers, put her lips where Cas’s lips had been, over the light imprint of gloss-Cas had found somewhere a while back. She’d complained how sticky and tacky it was from age, but that hadn’t stopped her from smearing it all over her lips.
The smoke burned when Deanna dragged it down, but she didn’t cough this time, didn’t even blink. Didn’t take her gaze away from Cas’s face as she began to roll a new joint for herself.
“I’m tired,” she said again. “All this shit we've got to take care of, with the new folks, and the supply run tomorrow, and not hearing from Anna and Jo in like, a fucking week, and then-”
“Nope, none of that,” Cas said, her hand firm on Deanna’s chin as she pulled her close for a quick, fierce kiss. “You’ve been dwelling on all of that for much too long today. Rule number four-don’t bring your work to bed.”
A small grin crossed Deanna’s lips. “Fine, you win.”
“Oh, so our fearless leader has conceded victory to me? And what is it exactly that I’ve won?”
“Can’t you guess?”
“Of course, but it certainly takes the fun out of it.” Cas plucked the joint from Deanna’s fingers, taking another quick drag before she carefully snuffed the embers out against the floor. She set the rest of the half-smoked joint aside for a later time.
After all, who knew when they’d find another batch of pot, and Chuck had already told Cas no when she had suggest they grow their own. They needed that ground for growing vegetables, he’d said, and Deanna had agreed.
She’d had to sleep in Risa’s cabin for a week after that.
Cas’ hand skimmed down Deanna’s side to rest low against her thigh holster, fingers playing under the straps as she leaned down to bite gently at Deanna’s lower lip. Deanna rolled onto her back, and Cas swung her leg over Deanna’s hips to straddle her waist.
Deanna snaked her hand through Cas’ hair, tugging her in close and running her hands down Cas’ back and moving them under Cas’ shirt to catch the hem and drag it up. Cas bent her head to help Deanna pull it off the rest of the way, and then sat back near Deanna’s thighs so they could get rid of Deanna’s shirt as well.
With fumbling fingers, they managed to get each other’s jeans down, but Deanna was too impatient when she saw that Cas wasn’t even wearing panties, and she started fucking up into Cas with her fingers, their pants still slung low along their hips. Cas gave a low, breathless laugh; she liked it hard, liked it fast.
“C’mon,” Cas groaned, arching her hips up so Deanna could reach up into her at a better angle and crook her fingers and make her squirm in just that right way against Deanna; her breath hitching in her throat, thighs shivering all around her as Deanna rubbed circles against Cas’ clit, her head tilted back, exposing that delicious red flush which was already spreading down her neck and across her breasts.
“Harder,” Cas gasped out, because she knew Deanna could, knew that she could pinch and pull at her clit and and her lips until there was nothing but the sweet thrum of white fire all along her nerves, and the two of them in this single moment, together.
They were done, quick, soon, and brutal, leaving them both panting, and Deanna could barely talk with her throat so dry from the sounds Cas had coaxed out of her. Loved the sounds that she had managed to pull from Cas’ own mouth, too.
But she guessed angels of the Lord, even slowly falling ones, weren’t as affected by a good fuck as regular humans were because suddenly Cas murmured, “I can’t hear them very much anymore, you know.”
Deanna’s stomach tightened again, not like before when threads of pleasure spun her tight and wanting, so she said just to buy some time, “Who?”
“The angels.”
Deanna wondered if she should ask for that joint, if that would distract Cas enough so that she wouldn’t ever mention it again. She was afraid of what she might end up saying if they did.
“They’ve gone quiet,” Cas said, finally looking over at her, dark hair caught in the sweat on her cheeks, shielding her pretty blue eyes. “Even though I’ve been losing my powers over the past few years, I’ve always been able to hear them in the back of my head, like this-quiet whisper or something. Now it’s just a few words here and there. Fewer every day.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Deanna forced herself to say. “It’s not like you guys got along anyway right? Besides your brother’s such a dick, worse than you ever were, you know. ‘Cause hey, at least you never wanted Michael to wear me to Prom Night at Apocalypse High.” She punched Cas softly on the arm, but even though Cas was right right there next to her physically, close enough Deanna could feel the huff of her breath along her arm, it was like she wasn’t really there, like her gaze was looking past Deanna-through Deanna-to stare at someone else.
“A bag of dicks,” Cas said. “That’s what Gabriel said.” She rolled over away from Deanna, and Deanna followed her, tried to wrap an arm across her waist, but Cas jerked at the touch. “They’re still my brothers.” Then she pretended to snore, and there was nothing Deanna could really do with that.
And if a little while later, Deanna reached over and finished the last of the Walker Blue to get herself to sleep, well. Not like it was much different than most nights.
-
Deanna woke up feeling like she had been run over by a truck. The hangover had left her spinning and spinning without a tether to hold her down to earth.
“You look like you had a party without me last night,” Cas said, her voice low and soft.
“Fuck off,” Deanna mumbled into the pillow. Cas laughed as she crawled into bed and under the blankets next to her.
“Sorry. Not nearly as good or as interesting without you.” Cas’ tone was teasing but fond. She ran her fingers through Deanna’s long, dark hair. It was nice and comfortable. Deanna didn’t want to get up, even felt herself drifting back to sleep a little. Cas certainly seemed wide awake, though.
Deanna wanted to tell her that she could have joined in-they could have made it a thing, some kind of daily ritual where they drank their daddy issues away-if Cas hadn’t been such a baby by pretending to fall asleep. But she didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to start a fight. Her head and her heart were too heavy for it today. Instead, she said, “Sleep well? Heard you snoring. Thought you were gonna keep me up all night, too.”
“Angels don’t sleep,” Cas reminded her.
Deanna’s throat hurt, so she just nodded, short and bitter. Wondered why Cas was so unconcerned with the lie that she wasn’t even bothering to cover it up, to play along. Remembered that time she told Cas that when humans wanted something-really, really wanted something-they lied. She wondered what Cas would think of that now.
Cas shoved at her-playfully, Deanna thought. But maybe it wasn’t.
“But really, Cas, you’re practically human now,” she said. “You’ve got to at least try to sleep.” Cas only gave a little “hmmm” of acknowledgement. “Well, like I said. I wasn’t tired. I’ll be okay.”
They lay in bed for a little while, the cool crisp morning air coming in through the half-opened windows. Deanna could smell the wood smoke from the breakfast crew starting their cooking for the day.
“Would it make me a terrible leader if we just let Risa run the mission today and we stayed home and had sex all morning?” she mumbled into Cas’ neck. Cas’ laugh was low and quiet, and it made Deanna want to move in closer and chase after the sound, because it lacked the usual bitterness Deanna heard far too often from her.
“It would make you incredibly irresponsible, but I have no problem with that.” Cas’ hand idly stroked along Deanna’s hip. “Though I think I can hear-”
As if on cue, there was Risa shouting as she banged her fist on the wood of the door. “Come on, Winchester, we’ve got a run to make!”
Deanna groaned. “Does she have to be so loud?”
“It’s the little things in life that make us all less miserable,” Cas said, with far too much cheer in her tone, “and hers is treating you like a brat sister, apparently. Come on.” She tugged on the back of Deanna’s shirt. “We’d better get moving. Otherwise I’ll probably have to see to it that we do spend all day in this bed.”
“Again, remind me why that’s a bad thing?” Deanna asked, though she did-slowly-drag herself from the bed, pulling up her pants as she did so, making sure her gun holster was buckled tight along her thigh before hunting down where she’d kicked off her boots last night.
“How would you ever protect your reputation then, oh, fearless leader?” Cas gave her a sly grin. “People would talk. Not saving people or hunting things, not the family business anymore, oh, no. Can’t be having that, now, can we?”
Deanna rolled her eyes and pulled on her jeans before she tossed Cas’ pants at her.
-
As they approached the trucks, Deanna groaned when she saw Chuck standing nearby with his usual clipboard and worried expression.
“Look, Chuck-” she started, wanting to make this conversation short and to the point, but apparently Chuck was having none of it.
“I’m not asking for a miracle, I promise,” Chuck said, “but here’s a list that I broke down by priority. The ‘A’ stuff list are things we can’t go without.” He handed over the top sheet of paper from his clipboard. Deanna noticed that he had toilet paper at the very top of the list. Personally, she figured that food was more important, but whatever. Different priorities. “‘B’ stuff is pretty important, but isn’t slipping into the dire need zone just yet. And the ‘C’ stuff is mostly personal requests, things that would be nice but probably aren’t too feasible, you know-someone was wanting to see if we could find some bubblegum, or like, more playing cards or paperback novels. That kind of stuff.”
“Thanks,” she said, giving him a half-grin and a hard slap on the shoulder. She pretended not to see him wince on impact. “I like this better than what you did before.”
“What, hand us a list of shit and say ‘here, grab this, that’d be great, don’t forget food and toilet paper’?” Cas interjected, coming up behind them like the creeper she still managed to be, even without her angel mojo. Chuck flinched visibly; Deanna managed to check her own tiny jump in time. Years of dealing with Cas and her disturbing ability to show up at the most inopportune times had given her lots of practice.
“Yeah, uh...something like that.” Chuck shook his head. “Anyway, the trucks are all ready, and it’s only like, a three hour trip total, so what time should we...?”
Deanna checked her watch. “It’s nine right now, so let’s say...we should get there by eleven at the latest, and maybe about, what-four, five hours total for scout and recon and loading trucks? Plus return trip...I’d say seven, give or take half an hour.”
“So do you want two hours for a safe zone?” Chuck asked.
“Yeah, that sounds about right. You know the drill-if we’re not back, put it on lockdown, quarantine procedures, all that jazz.”
Chuck put a hand to his forehead. “Got it. Um, two-two hours...fuck.”
“What’s up with you today?” Deanna asked as Cas climbed into the truck.
He grimaced. “No idea. I’m getting those headaches again-like, I-am-the-prophet-Chuck kind of headaches. Haven’t had one of those in a long time.”
“Wait, so you’re having visions again? Have you seen anything specific?”
“No, nothing like that. Not yet, anyway,” Chuck said. “But, well, I hate to be cliché about it, but I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
Deanna pursed her lips “Well, all right then, Obi-Wan, but you tell me if you start getting any more ‘bad feelings’.” She did the air quotes at him. “God forbid we walk into a trap or anything.”
Chuck gave her a weird look, a nervous laugh that came out a little bit breathless. “Um, yeah, sure, you got it. But uh, you know, I only get these headaches when it comes to you, or-or, um...”
The sudden, sharp look she gave him caused his stammered words to drift into silence. “If you see anything, vision-wise, you let me know,” she said. “As soon as you know anything, okay?”
“You got it.” He paused. “So um...be safe.” Chuck gave her a last nervous look before he walked back off toward the center of camp. Deanna hauled herself up and into the front seat of the lead truck where Cas was already waiting in the passenger seat.
“What was that about?” Cas wanted to know as Deanna turned the keys in the ignition.
“Nothing."
-
“Okay, people, listen up. Split off in pairs, check your lists, and find as many items as you can, grab as much as you can carry.” There were ten people who had volunteered for this trip, so five groups of two, she counted mentally. “Each list has a mix of high, medium, and low priority stuff, so get the things at the top first.”
Risa checked the piece of paper and added, “Those plastic containers might be a bit clunky, but if you leave them out by the doors we could probably use them to carry the toilet paper and the smaller stuff so we can consolidate.”
Deanna nodded. “Alright, people, let’s move.”
Cas turned to her as the others dispersed. “I’m guessing you put yourself in charge of the pharmacy, hmm?”
“Obviously.”
“What, you think I’m gonna-”
“You’re in charge of the heavy shit,” Deanna interrupted. “Anything on here that’s bulky or too hard for a one-person job, that’s all you. Put what’s left of your super-strength to good use and all that.”
“You got it, fearless leader.” Cas, the sneaky bastard, managed to smack Deanna on the ass before she wandered off, moving too quickly for retaliation.
-
An hour or so later, Deanna hopped out from behind the pharmacy counter, her bag full to bursting with prescriptions and over the counter meds alike. She wasn’t expecting to almost run into Cas standing alone in the middle of the makeup aisle. She ran her fingers along the crooked, dusty shelves, and Deanna could see that her nail polish was already starting to chip.
“What are you doing here, Cas?”
“Don’t worry,” Cas said, not bothering to look at her, “I found everything else on my list. It’s over there.” She pointed to a small pile of soaps and detergents.
Deanna watched as Cas picked up a tube of bright pink lipstick and studied it carefully. Not that Deanna actually had ever bothered with the crap, but when she had...she looked around, spotting the one color she recognized from when she and Sam had needed an extra girly disguise.
“You know,” Cas said absently, “before the world went to hell-literally-I was quite interested in how humans had become so destructive towards themselves and this whole planet. The cosmetics industry alone...” She tapped the tube against her other hand. “I mean, how important is lipstick to you, Deanna?”
Deanna furrowed her brow. “Not all that damn important.” She dropped the tube she’d been holding like she’d been burned. “What’s it to you?” She swallowed hard, how she’d hide out in the bathroom, some dirty little secret tube of lipstick in hand. How sometimes, as she dabbed at the excess, she’d imagine Cas discovering her, Cas seeing the hot flush down her neck; thought of how Cas would say she looked ridiculous, that she got the color all wrong, because Deanna knew fuck-all about that. How Cas would say, let me have some of that, and instead of taking the tube from her hand she would bring their mouths together for a kiss.
Cas probably didn’t know about this-Cas couldn’t read minds, not anymore-and only knew that her long hair was her one indulgence, because if Samson could do it then so could Deanna. She never wore dresses or skirts or heels or any of that sparkly glittery crap, either, except for that one time when Rhonda the head cheerleader had dared her to, and only then so she could get a good lay.
“Just curious. What about this?”
Deanna flinched when Cas held up a vial of sparkly purple nail polish, a glittery blue one in her other hand. “You used the last of mine yesterday.”
“Yeah, because you asked me to.”
“You could have had some if you asked nicely,” Cas told her. “Do you want something different? Green to match your eyes?” She sidled in closer, breath hot against Deanna’s ear. “I read somewhere that when you die, you come back different, like with greener eyes or as some far off star shining right out of them.” She pulled back, her lips parted but it wasn’t a smile. “I assure you, I took no liberties with the shade of your eyes when I remade you-” and her hand brushed against the scarred print on Deanna’s shoulder.
Deanna took a step back, Cas suddenly too tall beside her even though her vessel-her body now, Deanna guessed-had always been a little shorter. The proximity of Cas’ body to her own made it hard to focus, to breathe. Cas had become almost as big of a weak spot to her as Sam had been.
Then, Cas held up the polish once more. “This might make the illusion of greener eyes, though. Depending on the light. What do you think?”
“I think you can bring whatever girly shit you want, but don’t expect me to paint your toes again. You can get Becky to do it.”
You don't get pretty, glittery shit on your hands, Deanna thought as Cas found a cheap plastic makeup bag covered with a fine layer of dust, which she brushed off and proceeded to fill with a dull rainbow of eye shadows, lipsticks, and mascaras. You just get dried blood under your nails.
-
"We need to talk" were the first words out of Chuck's mouth when they returned to camp. Both Deanna and Cas followed him, Risa taking over with the unloading, as he led them into the “HQ cabin,” as Becky had named it.
"I had a vision while you guys were gone," he said. "It's Sam. She's in Detroit. I think." "You think?" Deanna echoed. Cas sent a sharp look in her direction.
"It's not like there was a big sign posted up!" Chuck said defensively. "That's just the vibe I got from it, okay? You told me you wanted me to let you know if I saw anything, and I did."
Deanna took a few long, shuddering breaths. Cas sat down and lit her cigarette, blowing smoke rings in her face.
She looked away from Cas. “I’m going up there. If I can-”
Cas scoffed, flicking ash from her cigarette towards Deanna. “What the hell are you thinking? Did the Croats manage to knock loose what sense you still had left?”
Of course Cas would protest. Would say they had to consider tactics or right timing or verify the information because if the angels really were gone, then they weren’t even speaking to Cas, one of the host, so why the hell would a prophet-former prophet, now just regular Chuck Shurley-who was just another goddamn human, know what was going on? Deanna could already hear him saying that it could be a trap, that they had to make sure, that they had to be smart about this. She knew the arguments before he even said them, though; one cannot simply walk into Mordor, after all. “Jo and Anna’s camp is on the other side of the Kansas City quarantine-it’s the way to Detroit. We can kill two birds with one stone, and I know they’d both come. They’d help us out. We’re family.”
Cas narrowed her eyes. “And what are you going to promise to get any of them to agree to waltzing right into a hot zone like Detroit?”
Deanna looked up from the maps she had been refolding, holding Cas’s eyes unblinking and stone cold. “I won’t need to promise them anything, Cas, because unlike your pals up in Heaven, we don’t leave our people behind.”
“Chuck, you’re going to want to leave now,” Cas said. Chuck bolted out as soon as the words had left her mouth, leaving the makeshift door of the cabin swinging in his wake.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do, Cas? Just leave my sister out there? If I have a chance to get her back, get her on our side, I’m gonna take it.”
“Why the hell are you even considering this?” Cas asked.
Deanna glared. “This could be important. Chuck hasn’t had a vision in years, and for one to happen now-”
“So what, you’re just gonna waltz on up to Croatoan ground zero and expect to find Sam?” Cas snorted. “Yeah, that sounds like a great idea. If you’re feeling that suicidal why not call up Michael and see if he wants to take a ride?”
“How the hell could you even say something like that?” she asked. “This isn’t about me. This is about Sam. This is about stopping that stupid bitch from possibly saying yes to Lucifer! You know how she is, Cas-she’s probably got some fool idea in her head about doing something for the greater good, paving her own way to hell with her ‘good intentions.’” She dumped plastic bottles of holy oil and holy water into the duffle. The wooden rosaries tapped against the insides of the water bottles as they settled.
“I wouldn’t seriously suggest it because I know you wouldn’t seriously consider it.”
“Hey,” Deanna said, “I’m not the one who was saying all the angels had gone. Makes it kind of hard to say yes when there’s no one around to say yes to. But geez, thanks for having so much faith in me, Cas.” She rolled her eyes. “You know, at least I’m here now instead of off in my own little world most of the time. At least I’m going to do something instead of sitting around with my thumb up my ass, waiting for something good to happen. You’re just high as a fucking kite.”
“At least I can keep my head on straight and trust when people are telling me I’ve gone over the line.”
“Right, trust,” Deanna said with a derisive snort. She crossed her arms in front of her. “Because I get so much of that from you these days.”
Cas got to her feet. “Don’t you even start.” Her voice was low. She walked forward, breaking the barrier of personal space, just like always, and brought her hand up to land a solid blow against Deanna’s jaw. Deanna reeled back, caught off-guard.
“What the fuck was that?” she demanded, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and glaring at Cas. She looked down and saw blood smeared there along the edge of her thumb; when she ran her tongue along the rows of teeth, she could taste it there, too. Good.
“You’re an asshole,” Cas said.
Deanna snorted. “Tell me something I don’t know.” She shoved the table out of the way before she pulled back and landed a solid punch against Cas’s temple. Cas stumbled back, heel of her palm cradling the pain. “You got enough humanity in there so that it hurts like a bitch?” Deanna asked. “Or are you gonna smoke those last two joints and pretend you aren’t getting closer to finally being human? Gonna fly off, or have you finally you lost your pretty little wings?”
“You’re a fucking idiot,” Cas said, panting slightly. Her blue eyes “I do have faith in you, Deanna. But I am not going to stand here and let you go off the rails like this.” She gave Deanna a look. “Dumbass.”
“Yeah, well-”
“-but fine. We’ll go.”
-
Deanna missed the days where she could put in a mix tape, and Back in Black would play full throttle from the Impala’s speakers, amped up and crystal clear thanks to the work she’d put into them over the years. Croats’ brains might have been rotted to the core but their ears worked just fine.
Cas, of course, had lit up a joint the second she’d swung herself into the seat. Had rolled the window down and stuck her leg out in the wind, eyes half-closed and her lips half-parted like she was kissing the smoke that drifted between them. They talked a little, but it was the kind of conversation where neither party was all that invested in what the other was saying. Just talking to hear another person’s voice, really.
She laughed with relief when the jeep guttered up the last steep hill that barricaded the shallow valley where Anna and Jo had made their camp. There were people sitting on logs, whittling out arrows, pounding the small scraggly pieces of grain they had managed to grow into flour.
They were still here. They were still alive. She breathed a sigh of relief.
By the time they made their way into the main area of the camp, Anna and Jo were already waiting for them. “What the hell happened to keeping in touch, you bitches?” Deanna asked, pulling them into a big bear hug. Her hands clung to their shirts, to their shoulder blades, grounding herself in the knowledge that they were still okay. Still alive.
“Our radio broke again,” Anna said, voice muffled against Deanna’s neck. “We were gonna come see you if we hadn’t gotten it fixed by tomorrow.”
Jo pulled away, giving Deanna a friendly smack on the arm, her grin perky, just as it had been when she was a kid and Ellen was still alive. “You miss us or something?”
“Only every damn day,” Deanna said, feeling a little bit more like her old self. Shooting the shit between the four of them was easy, familiar territory. Almost like there wasn’t an apocalypse looming over their heads.
“You came to check up on us,” Anna said. “That’s so sweet.”
Cas’s laugh sounded sharp and brittle to Deanna’s ears. “That’s not the only reason.” She drags deep on the last remaining stub of her joint. “It’s not just angels that come around when they want someone to say yes.” The smile she graced Deanna with was sweet and poisonous before she exchanged a look with Anna.
Deanna knew they’d say yes. Sam was family. Always would be, and there wasn’t a damn thing that could change that and, even though they’d been on total radio silence and hadn’t heard from one another in years, that didn’t make it stop being so.
Before noon, they were already in their trucks and jeeps, a ragged black parade marching its way to Detroit.
As the caravan of trucks rolled to a stop, Anna and Jo’s Jeep pulled up beside them. Deanna took a deep breath, staring down at the steering wheel so she wouldn’t have to look at the city skyline. It had been a long drive, almost fourteen hours, and the sun had only started to rise an hour or two ago.
“You ready for this?” Cas asked quietly, sounding more like her old, more angelic self. One hand rested on her knee, her cigarette in the other, though she had apparently let it burn out a few minutes ago.
“No.”
There was a knock at the driver-side window; Jo waved at them and Deanna rolled the window down. “You two planning on getting out of the car anytime soon or do I have to drag your asses out of there?”
Anna stood not too far off, nearer where they had parked their own vehicle. Her hands flew over the guns they had stored in the back, loading them with ammunition and performing last-minute checks to ensure they were all in working order. Anna’s grace had depleted far more quickly than Cas’ had, but Deanna had the suspicion that she’d done something to make it happen that way. Even when they’d first met, Anna had seemed a lot happier as a human than an angel.
“Yeah, yeah, keep your panties on, Jo,” Deanna said, opening the door and getting out somewhat sluggishly. Despite their plan to switch off drivers and drive through the night, she still was gonna need some of that nasty insta-coffee that seemed to be in abundance even in the middle of an apocalypse. “We’re coming.”
( part 2)