Story: Duckpocalypse Now: (Supernatural/Darkwing Duck): (10/10)
Title: Duckpocalypse Now
Author:
patriciatepes
Artist:
twisted_slinky
Fandom: Supernatural/Darkwing Duck
Chapter: Prev | Next
Rating/Contents: PG-13
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Darkwing, Gosalyn, Launchpad, Morgana, with a special guest star later!
Warnings: Um… cartoonish violence, spoilers for previous Buffy/Darkwing xover, The Building Blocks of Good and Evil, light swearing
Summary: Set after The Building Blocks of Good and Evil (an interlude story). SPN S6. While on an ordinary hunt, Sam and Dean find themselves pulled into an unusual circumstance. They arrive in St. Canard and meet Darkwing and co. just in time for the main event: another attempt at an apocalypse.
Disclaimer: I don't own Darkwing Duck, Supernatural, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or any related characters. DW belongs to Disney, SPN belongs to Kripke, and Buffy belongs to Whedon. For fun only.
Author's Notes: *laughs evilly* I am the chosen one! I, alone, have the power to take this plot seriously! *laughs evilly a bit more* Okay, but seriously, this is set in the same universe as The Building Blocks of Good and Evil, and it's set in between that story and its yet-to-be-written sequel, Devil You Don't Know. Although this is technically a three-way crossover between Darkwing Duck, Supernatural, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, it is mostly between Darkwing Duck and Supernatural. Anything you don't know about what happened in Building Blocks will be revealed here. You won't need to read the other story, and you won't really need to know too much about the Buffy universe. I'll reveal everything you need to know. (So it's spoilry for that other story, if you're interested in it.) That being said, enjoy!
Chapter Ten: In Which Witches are a Precious Commodity
"O-kay," Darkwing drawled. His eyes were glued on the giant, painted version of his girlfriend, as were Dean's and Gosalyn's.
After a moment and nothing else following this initial statement-and not to mention just idly standing while there were cops, buildings, and cars getting crushed by the giant witch-Gosalyn finally shot her father an irritated look.
"What? What do we do?" she demanded.
Across the way, standing now firmly on the ground, Splatter Phoenix was still cackling madly. Only now she was adding various monstrous "abstract" creatures to the fray. As soon as they were painted, they sprang to life, roaring if they had an orifice that could make noise, and rushing in behind the painted witch to cause as much added destruction as possible. They varied in size and color, but not in ferocity. Gosalyn yanked at her pigtails.
"Dad! We've got to do something!"
Darkwing was casting his gaze about, and Dean recognized that look. He was looking somewhere-anywhere-for a plan. Finally, however, after glancing a block or so behind them, Darkwing snapped his fingers.
"Got it! Dean, Gos, you two need to get Splatter's brush away from her and trap her. I'll deal with this Fake Morgana. Then, we get to that Hellmouth."
"Uhh, any specifics on that, Talking Hero Duck?" Dean asked.
"You two do your part any way you can. As for me… I think I've found my weapon," he said, jerking a thumb backwards.
Gosalyn's and Dean's followed the motion, landing on a closed shop front that announced itself as Suzy's Art Supplies. The two nodded.
"We're on it," Gosalyn said, already heading for Splatter Phoenix.
Dean nodded, starting off after the duckling, before Darkwing called him to a stop.
"Dean! Um, keep an eye on her, will ya?" he asked.
"Of course," Dean answered, turning to find the redhead engaged in a battle with a squat orange square about her height. She splattered it easily as Dean jogged to catch up. He glanced behind just in time to see Darkwing running and whistling, trying and succeeding to get Giant Paint Morg's attention. The huge painting was already following him away from the cops, and Dean had to duck a blow from a blob of purple paint that was only a bit taller than he was. He followed it up with a strong right hook, his fist going right through the paint. He grimaced, but moved on, careful to keep his eyes on the bright hair bobbing in front of him.
He knew he wouldn't have the time to punch-out every single crazy paint monster that made its way toward him. So, he ducked, dodged, and weaved like he was playing some kind of game, eyes locked on Gosalyn. For her part, the duckling was tearing through these things like they were nothing. Maybe there was something to this slayer thing after all.
Splatter was noticing them coming closer, and her paintings were growing in volume… but not in anything else. If anything, due to the frequency of their creation, they were getting smaller and weaker. The last couple Dean encountered he had simply been able to squish like the earlier ink golems.
Gosalyn reached Splatter Phoenix first, and the villainess stopped the girl's incoming blow by painting a metal bar between the two of them, just large enough to catch Gosalyn's fist. She cried out, rubbing her hand, and Phoenix was already moving toward her, paint brush ready to dish out something else. Gosalyn rolled out from underneath her looming figure, kicking out at her feet. Splatter started to fall, just catching herself. Whirling, she was getting ready to fire back at Gosalyn…
But was met with Dean's waiting fist. An actual cuckoo noise sounded as Splatter Phoenix crumpled to the ground, her paintbrush rolling from her grip. Gosalyn snatched it up quickly, using it to paint an iron-barred cage around the paint-crazed villain. When she was done, she looked at Dean, eyes wide.
"What?" he asked.
"You actually hit her," she said.
Dean stared at her, confused, when it finally clicked. Finally, he shrugged.
"I'm not normally in the habit of hitting women, kid, but sometimes it's eat or be eaten, got me?"
She nodded, an odd look passing over her eyes. It didn't seem to be disgust, but Dean couldn't really put a name to it. For some reason, that look in her green eyes seemed to put a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. A sound like glass and brick crashing drew both of their attentions.
Giant Paint Morg-and Darkwing, they collectively assumed-had finally reached the art supply store. Gone was the mysterious look from Gosalyn's eyes, replaced with a look that Dean was more than familiar with-concern for a loved one.
"Let's go!" she shouted, not bothering to see if Dean followed after her-which he did.
With the paintbrush out of commission, thus stopping the flow of new creatures, the cops were starting to bounce back, and the crowd of abstracts was thinning, making the run around the corner to the store easier than it would have been a few moments ago.
Giant Paint Morg had torn the roof clean off, and was now glaring down inside of the store. Her red-dress covered lower half covered the conventional entrance, and Dean had to pull Gosalyn to a stop several feet from the store. She glared up at the hunter.
"Dad's in there!" she protested.
"He had a plan, Gos. We don't, though. We can't just hope that we can duck and weave around her. Once she spotted us, she'd squish us like bugs," Dean reasoned.
A roar-this time of agony, instead of rage-came from the paint giant. Gosalyn and Dean turned, watching as it appeared that the painting's lower half was melting away. Gosalyn joyfully punched at the air.
"Dad found turpentine!" she cried out.
A small wave of paint was washing toward them, and Dean picked up Gosalyn, trying to keep her from touching the stuff. Maybe he needed to follow his own advice in the matter, but the forming ink river would have knocked the girl off her webbed feet, he was sure. After all, he had told Darkwing he would keep an eye on her.
Screaming in agony, the two watched as the giant painting continued to melt down into nothingness, clawing fruitlessly at the night sky. It took much less time than Dean would have guessed before finally the tips of her white paint fingers dissolved away, followed by cheers from the crowd behind them.
Victorious, and tugging his purple fedora down over his head, Darkwing emerged from the storefront.
"Let's go get Morg," he said.
With that, they found the Ratcatcher in the chaos-miraculously unharmed-and made their way to St. Canard P. S. 4.
"It used to be my school," Gosalyn noted as they pulled up in front of a pretty standard, single-level school-creepy because it was shut down, being that it was the middle of the night.
"Used to?" Dean asked, dismounting the bike.
Gosalyn hopped down after him. "Dad transferred me after Buffy left."
"Well, would you leave your kid in a school with a Hellmouth under it?" the hero asked indignantly.
In the distance, coming from the other direction, Dean saw the unmistakable, giant-in-his-own-way form of his brother, trailed by Launchpad, heading toward them. The elder Winchester shrugged.
"Can't say as I blame you there," he said, when Sam and Launchpad finally met with them.
"I grabbed anything I thought could be useful," Sam said, holding up a sack full of items that rustled and clinked together as he did so.
"I have no idea on how to use any of those," Darkwing said.
"I-" Gosalyn began, but her father cut her off, "Neither does she. Don't let her fool you."
"Cas and Globe Willow are in here too," Sam said.
"They went ahead to do the spell to end Sam and Dean home," Launchpad put in. "Morg's orders."
"It was a good plan, until…" Darkwing noted.
"Speaking of, do we have one of those?" Gosalyn asked.
"Not that I've heard," Dean answered.
Darkwing's eyes narrowed on the school's entrance. "We do this quietly. What we lack in arms, we'll make up with stealth and the element of surprise."
The rest nodded. Sam laid the bag of borrowed magical items on the seat of the Ratcatcher, seeing as it was useless without someone-Morgana or even Willow-to instruct them on how to use it all properly. After that, the group followed Darkwing's lead, moving quietly across the lush lawn of the school and through the already open double doors at the entrance.
Their shoes squeaked, but not too loudly, on the polished floors as they moved through the halls, pass rows of lockers and closed, wooden classroom doors. They didn't pause until they reached a door clearly marked "Basement-Employees Only." Three of them huddled on one side of the door, while the other two moved to the other. Darkwing motioned once, yanking open the door and hurrying inside. The other four quickly followed.
It was dark in the stairwell, but not as inky black as Dean had been expecting. A light was glowing in the distance, turning some of the darkness into mere shadows. Chanting in a high, creepy voice was lilting its way down the dark corridor toward the group. A sense of urgency settling in on them, yet their steps slowed. Darkwing had been right, after all. All they had was their stealth, their unexpectedness.
They stopped at the doorway to the room the light was coming from, which, from Dean's quick glance, looked like had exposed ground as flooring with a pit in the center. Gosalyn, Darkwing, and Launchpad huddled to the left of the doors, Sam and Dean to the right. Dean dared another glance, this time seeing the unconscious form of Duckstiel, Morgana, and a flame-less glass globe. Things were not looking good.
"I guess that's Paddywhack now. He sure looks different than the last time we faced him," Launchpad whispered.
"He must be possessing someone," Darkwing answered.
"If he kills Morgana, it's all over. The apocalypse will start," Sam stated.
"That's not going to happen. I'm not losing anyone else," Darkwing answered, not without a hint of determination.
"So… how do we kill him?" Dean asked.
Certainly not in answer to his question, Dean-along with the others-were suddenly compelled forward until they were completely in the open-lined up, left to right as Darkwing, Launchpad, Gosalyn, Dean, and then Sam-and then rooted to the spot. Dean tried to reach forward, as if he could snatch Paddywhack before he turned to see them, but he soon found that his arms were frozen in place too.
"Winchesters, Winchesters, Winchesters," Paddywhack said, turning to glare them down with acid green eyes. "Always trying to ruin my fun aren't you?"
"Guess we have different definitions there, buddy," Dean quipped.
"I tried to be a part of your world's apocalypse. Tried to be there when Yellow Eyes succeeded. When Lucifer rose. But was I?"
He paused, just long enough to make everyone uncomfortable, before he finally screeched, "No! No, I wasn't there, because of you!"
"Well, to keep you updated, we stopped it and popped Lucifer back into his box. Oh, and Yellow Eyes? Totally killed him," Dean said.
"Oh, I'm aware," Paddywhack snarled. "You are still not grasping this point though, Dean-o. I was having fun. And you, and widdle Sammy here, ruined it! So, naturally, I thought, why not have an apocalypse in a different dimension and just extend an invitation? So, now you and your little hero friends will have front row seats to the best-and last-show this world has ever seen!"
With that, he turned away, continuing his chant. Now, though, a small dagger had appeared. Dean could see Darkwing struggling as Paddywhack was leaning over Morgana.
"You won't get away with this, you demented demon!" Darkwing said.
The demon ignored the caped crusader, instead slicing delicate cuts into Morgana's arms and stomach, through her dress. On his left, Gosalyn let out a small gasp.
"I know this. Dawn, Buffy's sister, had this done to her when a goddess was trying to open up a Hell dimension," Gosalyn explained.
Dean continued to struggle, a kind of PTSD washing over him as he remembered seeing Lilith die, helping Sam kill Ruby, and watching as the cage began to open. He cast his gaze about, trying to think of something, anything, that could get them out of this mess. Immediately, his eyes fell on Cas's slumbering form. He could vaguely make out some shapes drawn on his coat that seemed to be Enochian. Well, that explained why Cas was still out of commission.
"Um, Gos, sweetie, what was the endgame of that goddess's spell?" Darkwing asked.
"They had to bleed Dawn dry to open a portal. And the portal would only stop when the blood did," the duckling explained.
"Hoo boy," Launchpad groaned.
On his other side, Sam was muttering something under his breath, and it sounded like the exorcism spell. Paddywhack stopped his own chanting, sighing.
"Oh, Sammy, that old hat?" he said, snapping his fingers.
Sam went silent, and Dean looked desperately to his brother. He looked fine, but as soon as he started to try and talk, it was like he couldn't get his tongue to move. This was beginning to look really bad.
As Paddywhack continued to chant over the bleeding Morgana, a hellish roar, followed by a deep red light began to leak through the pit that contained the Hellmouth. Darkwing, his hand inching slowly, so slowly, toward his cape, gulped.
"That… does not… sound good," he muttered.
"Cas is our only chance to kill this guy," Dean whispered at Gosalyn. "We don't have any weapon between us capable of it. If we get free, you need to get over there and get those symbols off him."
It was an important task, and one that Dean hoped would keep the duckling relatively safe. After all, one way or another, this was about to get ugly. Gosalyn nodded in response. At the far end of the line, Darkwing's hand was getting closer and closer, unbeknownst to Paddywhack, who chanted away, unconcerned. Within agonizing minutes, Dean saw what Darkwing was reaching for-his gas gun. He steeled himself, as did Sam, knowing they were about to get their only chance of stopping this.
Darkwing finally reached his goal, pulling his gas gun free. Then, rather unceremoniously, he lobbed it at the demon. But it did the trick. As soon as it struck Paddywhack in the head, he lost his concentration and the group was free to move. Everyone went into action. Dean, Sam, and Darkwing descended upon the demon, throwing blow after blow at him, anything to keep him off his game. Gosalyn ducked around the fight, rushing to Castiel just as Dean had asked her. And Launchpad jumped behind the fight, grabbing up the glass globe and Morgana's now groaning form and dragging them both to a safe distance.
Gosalyn's frantic wiping at the marks on Castiel's coat was just barely audible over the sound of the blows being landed on Paddywhack's form, relentlessly, driving him backward, toward the now abundant hellish red light spilling up from the Hellmouth. And then, like the proverbial lightbulb, it hit Dean.
They did have a way to end this without a weapon. Together, he, Sam, and Darkwing continued their push until Paddywhack's heels were on the edge of the opening cage. The demon threw his arms out, swinging and twirling them wildly. With a leap into the air, Darkwing landed the last blow right in the center of his chest, shoving him over… and into Beelzebub's cage.
He screeched all the way down, until that noise was drowned out by growling and a deep laugh. To the groups right, Gosalyn gave a small cry as Castiel's eyes flew open. She must have destroyed enough of the symbol. He stood, making his way past the duckling and to the group.
"The cage is still open!" Sam shouted over the torrent of sounds coming the cage.
"No," Castiel said, moving past them to Morgana's still sleeping form. "It's not open fully until no more blood flows."
"How do we fix that?" Darkwing yelled, tugging his hat.
"That solution is the easiest," Castiel said, reaching down and placing two fingers on Morgana's forehead.
Right before their eyes, the cuts healed. A roar of "No!" sounded from within the cage as the light spilling from it vanished. For a moment, all was still. Then, groaning, Morgana opened her eyes. She glanced around at the group, obviously confused.
"What did I miss?"
#
An hour later, a different spell was set up at the lip of the Hellmouth. Morgana, after just a moment of resting, had been able to summon back Willow-in flame form-and she and Gosalyn had explained what had happened while Sam had gone and collected the bag of magical supplies from the Ratcatcher. As luck would have it, he had gathered everything-and then some-to recreate the spell necessary to send him and Dean home. So, the group had sat and stood around while Willow and Castiel worked the spell. Finally, though, an hour later, Flame-Willow proudly announced, "It's done."
Dean and Sam moved toward Castiel, who was moments away from absorbing all the power of the Hellmouth all to spend it in a flash to send them home. Darkwing and his group stood together.
"Good luck," the masked duck said.
"Thanks…. Darkwing," Dean said.
The hero beamed at him.
"Also, you know… Gosalyn is quite capable. Maybe you shouldn't be so hard on her? She did, after all, survive an attempted apocalypse," Dean added.
Gosalyn smiled at Dean, then directed a clear "told you so" look at her father, who sighed.
"I'll try and keep that in mind," the hero said.
Morgana stepped forward, pressing a piece of paper into Sam's hand.
"It's the spell for something we call The Black Room," she explained. "If you ever need to talk to me or to Willow, you can use it."
"Thanks," Same said, securing it in a pocket of his jacket. "I'm sure we'll be using it soon enough."
"It's time," Castiel said.
The boys nodded, and a few last minute hasty good-byes were said as Castiel turned to the Hellmouth. He took in a deep breath, bringing with it a glowing light that entered his vessel. Then, turning, he placed a hand on each Winchester.
It happened in just a flash, a burst of energy, and a blink. One moment, they were in St. Canard in the basement of a school, and in the next, they were in Bobby's scrapyard, and the sun was beginning to rise.
"You did it!" Sam said, clapping the angel-now back in his human vessel-on the back.
He nodded, and together, the three of them entered the house through the back door. Then ended up in the kitchen, where Bobby stood with his back to the boys, yelling into a phone.
"I don't give a damn! I want to know where they're at, now!" he said, turning.
He nearly dropped the phone. But, after a moment, the old hunter recovered, saying into the receiver, "You know what? Never mind. They're right friggin' here!"
He slammed the phone down on its cradle, crossing the small space between him and the boys, shoving a finger in their faces.
"Where in the hell have you three idijits been? You've been missing for damn near twenty-four hours!"
"We've gone longer without contact," Sam said.
Bobby fixed him with a glare that kept him from making any other remarks.
"We had an agreed check in, and you two missed it! Where were you?"
Sam, Dean, and Castiel exchanged a quick glance. Finally, Dean shrugged.
"Okay. Here it goes."
And he told Bobby the truth. The whole, crazy truth. Parallel dimension, talking ducks, slayers, another apocalypse, the whole thing. Finally, at the end, there was a moment of silence. Then, Bobby nodded once.
"I've only got one question for you after that," he said.
"Okay," Sam said.
"How exactly did you get the angel to drop acid?"
fin
Author:
patriciatepes
Artist:
twisted_slinky
Fandom: Supernatural/Darkwing Duck
Chapter: Prev | Next
Rating/Contents: PG-13
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Darkwing, Gosalyn, Launchpad, Morgana, with a special guest star later!
Warnings: Um… cartoonish violence, spoilers for previous Buffy/Darkwing xover, The Building Blocks of Good and Evil, light swearing
Summary: Set after The Building Blocks of Good and Evil (an interlude story). SPN S6. While on an ordinary hunt, Sam and Dean find themselves pulled into an unusual circumstance. They arrive in St. Canard and meet Darkwing and co. just in time for the main event: another attempt at an apocalypse.
Disclaimer: I don't own Darkwing Duck, Supernatural, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or any related characters. DW belongs to Disney, SPN belongs to Kripke, and Buffy belongs to Whedon. For fun only.
Author's Notes: *laughs evilly* I am the chosen one! I, alone, have the power to take this plot seriously! *laughs evilly a bit more* Okay, but seriously, this is set in the same universe as The Building Blocks of Good and Evil, and it's set in between that story and its yet-to-be-written sequel, Devil You Don't Know. Although this is technically a three-way crossover between Darkwing Duck, Supernatural, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, it is mostly between Darkwing Duck and Supernatural. Anything you don't know about what happened in Building Blocks will be revealed here. You won't need to read the other story, and you won't really need to know too much about the Buffy universe. I'll reveal everything you need to know. (So it's spoilry for that other story, if you're interested in it.) That being said, enjoy!
Chapter Ten: In Which Witches are a Precious Commodity
"O-kay," Darkwing drawled. His eyes were glued on the giant, painted version of his girlfriend, as were Dean's and Gosalyn's.
After a moment and nothing else following this initial statement-and not to mention just idly standing while there were cops, buildings, and cars getting crushed by the giant witch-Gosalyn finally shot her father an irritated look.
"What? What do we do?" she demanded.
Across the way, standing now firmly on the ground, Splatter Phoenix was still cackling madly. Only now she was adding various monstrous "abstract" creatures to the fray. As soon as they were painted, they sprang to life, roaring if they had an orifice that could make noise, and rushing in behind the painted witch to cause as much added destruction as possible. They varied in size and color, but not in ferocity. Gosalyn yanked at her pigtails.
"Dad! We've got to do something!"
Darkwing was casting his gaze about, and Dean recognized that look. He was looking somewhere-anywhere-for a plan. Finally, however, after glancing a block or so behind them, Darkwing snapped his fingers.
"Got it! Dean, Gos, you two need to get Splatter's brush away from her and trap her. I'll deal with this Fake Morgana. Then, we get to that Hellmouth."
"Uhh, any specifics on that, Talking Hero Duck?" Dean asked.
"You two do your part any way you can. As for me… I think I've found my weapon," he said, jerking a thumb backwards.
Gosalyn's and Dean's followed the motion, landing on a closed shop front that announced itself as Suzy's Art Supplies. The two nodded.
"We're on it," Gosalyn said, already heading for Splatter Phoenix.
Dean nodded, starting off after the duckling, before Darkwing called him to a stop.
"Dean! Um, keep an eye on her, will ya?" he asked.
"Of course," Dean answered, turning to find the redhead engaged in a battle with a squat orange square about her height. She splattered it easily as Dean jogged to catch up. He glanced behind just in time to see Darkwing running and whistling, trying and succeeding to get Giant Paint Morg's attention. The huge painting was already following him away from the cops, and Dean had to duck a blow from a blob of purple paint that was only a bit taller than he was. He followed it up with a strong right hook, his fist going right through the paint. He grimaced, but moved on, careful to keep his eyes on the bright hair bobbing in front of him.
He knew he wouldn't have the time to punch-out every single crazy paint monster that made its way toward him. So, he ducked, dodged, and weaved like he was playing some kind of game, eyes locked on Gosalyn. For her part, the duckling was tearing through these things like they were nothing. Maybe there was something to this slayer thing after all.
Splatter was noticing them coming closer, and her paintings were growing in volume… but not in anything else. If anything, due to the frequency of their creation, they were getting smaller and weaker. The last couple Dean encountered he had simply been able to squish like the earlier ink golems.
Gosalyn reached Splatter Phoenix first, and the villainess stopped the girl's incoming blow by painting a metal bar between the two of them, just large enough to catch Gosalyn's fist. She cried out, rubbing her hand, and Phoenix was already moving toward her, paint brush ready to dish out something else. Gosalyn rolled out from underneath her looming figure, kicking out at her feet. Splatter started to fall, just catching herself. Whirling, she was getting ready to fire back at Gosalyn…
But was met with Dean's waiting fist. An actual cuckoo noise sounded as Splatter Phoenix crumpled to the ground, her paintbrush rolling from her grip. Gosalyn snatched it up quickly, using it to paint an iron-barred cage around the paint-crazed villain. When she was done, she looked at Dean, eyes wide.
"What?" he asked.
"You actually hit her," she said.
Dean stared at her, confused, when it finally clicked. Finally, he shrugged.
"I'm not normally in the habit of hitting women, kid, but sometimes it's eat or be eaten, got me?"
She nodded, an odd look passing over her eyes. It didn't seem to be disgust, but Dean couldn't really put a name to it. For some reason, that look in her green eyes seemed to put a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. A sound like glass and brick crashing drew both of their attentions.
Giant Paint Morg-and Darkwing, they collectively assumed-had finally reached the art supply store. Gone was the mysterious look from Gosalyn's eyes, replaced with a look that Dean was more than familiar with-concern for a loved one.
"Let's go!" she shouted, not bothering to see if Dean followed after her-which he did.
With the paintbrush out of commission, thus stopping the flow of new creatures, the cops were starting to bounce back, and the crowd of abstracts was thinning, making the run around the corner to the store easier than it would have been a few moments ago.
Giant Paint Morg had torn the roof clean off, and was now glaring down inside of the store. Her red-dress covered lower half covered the conventional entrance, and Dean had to pull Gosalyn to a stop several feet from the store. She glared up at the hunter.
"Dad's in there!" she protested.
"He had a plan, Gos. We don't, though. We can't just hope that we can duck and weave around her. Once she spotted us, she'd squish us like bugs," Dean reasoned.
A roar-this time of agony, instead of rage-came from the paint giant. Gosalyn and Dean turned, watching as it appeared that the painting's lower half was melting away. Gosalyn joyfully punched at the air.
"Dad found turpentine!" she cried out.
A small wave of paint was washing toward them, and Dean picked up Gosalyn, trying to keep her from touching the stuff. Maybe he needed to follow his own advice in the matter, but the forming ink river would have knocked the girl off her webbed feet, he was sure. After all, he had told Darkwing he would keep an eye on her.
Screaming in agony, the two watched as the giant painting continued to melt down into nothingness, clawing fruitlessly at the night sky. It took much less time than Dean would have guessed before finally the tips of her white paint fingers dissolved away, followed by cheers from the crowd behind them.
Victorious, and tugging his purple fedora down over his head, Darkwing emerged from the storefront.
"Let's go get Morg," he said.
With that, they found the Ratcatcher in the chaos-miraculously unharmed-and made their way to St. Canard P. S. 4.
"It used to be my school," Gosalyn noted as they pulled up in front of a pretty standard, single-level school-creepy because it was shut down, being that it was the middle of the night.
"Used to?" Dean asked, dismounting the bike.
Gosalyn hopped down after him. "Dad transferred me after Buffy left."
"Well, would you leave your kid in a school with a Hellmouth under it?" the hero asked indignantly.
In the distance, coming from the other direction, Dean saw the unmistakable, giant-in-his-own-way form of his brother, trailed by Launchpad, heading toward them. The elder Winchester shrugged.
"Can't say as I blame you there," he said, when Sam and Launchpad finally met with them.
"I grabbed anything I thought could be useful," Sam said, holding up a sack full of items that rustled and clinked together as he did so.
"I have no idea on how to use any of those," Darkwing said.
"I-" Gosalyn began, but her father cut her off, "Neither does she. Don't let her fool you."
"Cas and Globe Willow are in here too," Sam said.
"They went ahead to do the spell to end Sam and Dean home," Launchpad put in. "Morg's orders."
"It was a good plan, until…" Darkwing noted.
"Speaking of, do we have one of those?" Gosalyn asked.
"Not that I've heard," Dean answered.
Darkwing's eyes narrowed on the school's entrance. "We do this quietly. What we lack in arms, we'll make up with stealth and the element of surprise."
The rest nodded. Sam laid the bag of borrowed magical items on the seat of the Ratcatcher, seeing as it was useless without someone-Morgana or even Willow-to instruct them on how to use it all properly. After that, the group followed Darkwing's lead, moving quietly across the lush lawn of the school and through the already open double doors at the entrance.
Their shoes squeaked, but not too loudly, on the polished floors as they moved through the halls, pass rows of lockers and closed, wooden classroom doors. They didn't pause until they reached a door clearly marked "Basement-Employees Only." Three of them huddled on one side of the door, while the other two moved to the other. Darkwing motioned once, yanking open the door and hurrying inside. The other four quickly followed.
It was dark in the stairwell, but not as inky black as Dean had been expecting. A light was glowing in the distance, turning some of the darkness into mere shadows. Chanting in a high, creepy voice was lilting its way down the dark corridor toward the group. A sense of urgency settling in on them, yet their steps slowed. Darkwing had been right, after all. All they had was their stealth, their unexpectedness.
They stopped at the doorway to the room the light was coming from, which, from Dean's quick glance, looked like had exposed ground as flooring with a pit in the center. Gosalyn, Darkwing, and Launchpad huddled to the left of the doors, Sam and Dean to the right. Dean dared another glance, this time seeing the unconscious form of Duckstiel, Morgana, and a flame-less glass globe. Things were not looking good.
"I guess that's Paddywhack now. He sure looks different than the last time we faced him," Launchpad whispered.
"He must be possessing someone," Darkwing answered.
"If he kills Morgana, it's all over. The apocalypse will start," Sam stated.
"That's not going to happen. I'm not losing anyone else," Darkwing answered, not without a hint of determination.
"So… how do we kill him?" Dean asked.
Certainly not in answer to his question, Dean-along with the others-were suddenly compelled forward until they were completely in the open-lined up, left to right as Darkwing, Launchpad, Gosalyn, Dean, and then Sam-and then rooted to the spot. Dean tried to reach forward, as if he could snatch Paddywhack before he turned to see them, but he soon found that his arms were frozen in place too.
"Winchesters, Winchesters, Winchesters," Paddywhack said, turning to glare them down with acid green eyes. "Always trying to ruin my fun aren't you?"
"Guess we have different definitions there, buddy," Dean quipped.
"I tried to be a part of your world's apocalypse. Tried to be there when Yellow Eyes succeeded. When Lucifer rose. But was I?"
He paused, just long enough to make everyone uncomfortable, before he finally screeched, "No! No, I wasn't there, because of you!"
"Well, to keep you updated, we stopped it and popped Lucifer back into his box. Oh, and Yellow Eyes? Totally killed him," Dean said.
"Oh, I'm aware," Paddywhack snarled. "You are still not grasping this point though, Dean-o. I was having fun. And you, and widdle Sammy here, ruined it! So, naturally, I thought, why not have an apocalypse in a different dimension and just extend an invitation? So, now you and your little hero friends will have front row seats to the best-and last-show this world has ever seen!"
With that, he turned away, continuing his chant. Now, though, a small dagger had appeared. Dean could see Darkwing struggling as Paddywhack was leaning over Morgana.
"You won't get away with this, you demented demon!" Darkwing said.
The demon ignored the caped crusader, instead slicing delicate cuts into Morgana's arms and stomach, through her dress. On his left, Gosalyn let out a small gasp.
"I know this. Dawn, Buffy's sister, had this done to her when a goddess was trying to open up a Hell dimension," Gosalyn explained.
Dean continued to struggle, a kind of PTSD washing over him as he remembered seeing Lilith die, helping Sam kill Ruby, and watching as the cage began to open. He cast his gaze about, trying to think of something, anything, that could get them out of this mess. Immediately, his eyes fell on Cas's slumbering form. He could vaguely make out some shapes drawn on his coat that seemed to be Enochian. Well, that explained why Cas was still out of commission.
"Um, Gos, sweetie, what was the endgame of that goddess's spell?" Darkwing asked.
"They had to bleed Dawn dry to open a portal. And the portal would only stop when the blood did," the duckling explained.
"Hoo boy," Launchpad groaned.
On his other side, Sam was muttering something under his breath, and it sounded like the exorcism spell. Paddywhack stopped his own chanting, sighing.
"Oh, Sammy, that old hat?" he said, snapping his fingers.
Sam went silent, and Dean looked desperately to his brother. He looked fine, but as soon as he started to try and talk, it was like he couldn't get his tongue to move. This was beginning to look really bad.
As Paddywhack continued to chant over the bleeding Morgana, a hellish roar, followed by a deep red light began to leak through the pit that contained the Hellmouth. Darkwing, his hand inching slowly, so slowly, toward his cape, gulped.
"That… does not… sound good," he muttered.
"Cas is our only chance to kill this guy," Dean whispered at Gosalyn. "We don't have any weapon between us capable of it. If we get free, you need to get over there and get those symbols off him."
It was an important task, and one that Dean hoped would keep the duckling relatively safe. After all, one way or another, this was about to get ugly. Gosalyn nodded in response. At the far end of the line, Darkwing's hand was getting closer and closer, unbeknownst to Paddywhack, who chanted away, unconcerned. Within agonizing minutes, Dean saw what Darkwing was reaching for-his gas gun. He steeled himself, as did Sam, knowing they were about to get their only chance of stopping this.
Darkwing finally reached his goal, pulling his gas gun free. Then, rather unceremoniously, he lobbed it at the demon. But it did the trick. As soon as it struck Paddywhack in the head, he lost his concentration and the group was free to move. Everyone went into action. Dean, Sam, and Darkwing descended upon the demon, throwing blow after blow at him, anything to keep him off his game. Gosalyn ducked around the fight, rushing to Castiel just as Dean had asked her. And Launchpad jumped behind the fight, grabbing up the glass globe and Morgana's now groaning form and dragging them both to a safe distance.
Gosalyn's frantic wiping at the marks on Castiel's coat was just barely audible over the sound of the blows being landed on Paddywhack's form, relentlessly, driving him backward, toward the now abundant hellish red light spilling up from the Hellmouth. And then, like the proverbial lightbulb, it hit Dean.
They did have a way to end this without a weapon. Together, he, Sam, and Darkwing continued their push until Paddywhack's heels were on the edge of the opening cage. The demon threw his arms out, swinging and twirling them wildly. With a leap into the air, Darkwing landed the last blow right in the center of his chest, shoving him over… and into Beelzebub's cage.
He screeched all the way down, until that noise was drowned out by growling and a deep laugh. To the groups right, Gosalyn gave a small cry as Castiel's eyes flew open. She must have destroyed enough of the symbol. He stood, making his way past the duckling and to the group.
"The cage is still open!" Sam shouted over the torrent of sounds coming the cage.
"No," Castiel said, moving past them to Morgana's still sleeping form. "It's not open fully until no more blood flows."
"How do we fix that?" Darkwing yelled, tugging his hat.
"That solution is the easiest," Castiel said, reaching down and placing two fingers on Morgana's forehead.
Right before their eyes, the cuts healed. A roar of "No!" sounded from within the cage as the light spilling from it vanished. For a moment, all was still. Then, groaning, Morgana opened her eyes. She glanced around at the group, obviously confused.
"What did I miss?"
#
An hour later, a different spell was set up at the lip of the Hellmouth. Morgana, after just a moment of resting, had been able to summon back Willow-in flame form-and she and Gosalyn had explained what had happened while Sam had gone and collected the bag of magical supplies from the Ratcatcher. As luck would have it, he had gathered everything-and then some-to recreate the spell necessary to send him and Dean home. So, the group had sat and stood around while Willow and Castiel worked the spell. Finally, though, an hour later, Flame-Willow proudly announced, "It's done."
Dean and Sam moved toward Castiel, who was moments away from absorbing all the power of the Hellmouth all to spend it in a flash to send them home. Darkwing and his group stood together.
"Good luck," the masked duck said.
"Thanks…. Darkwing," Dean said.
The hero beamed at him.
"Also, you know… Gosalyn is quite capable. Maybe you shouldn't be so hard on her? She did, after all, survive an attempted apocalypse," Dean added.
Gosalyn smiled at Dean, then directed a clear "told you so" look at her father, who sighed.
"I'll try and keep that in mind," the hero said.
Morgana stepped forward, pressing a piece of paper into Sam's hand.
"It's the spell for something we call The Black Room," she explained. "If you ever need to talk to me or to Willow, you can use it."
"Thanks," Same said, securing it in a pocket of his jacket. "I'm sure we'll be using it soon enough."
"It's time," Castiel said.
The boys nodded, and a few last minute hasty good-byes were said as Castiel turned to the Hellmouth. He took in a deep breath, bringing with it a glowing light that entered his vessel. Then, turning, he placed a hand on each Winchester.
It happened in just a flash, a burst of energy, and a blink. One moment, they were in St. Canard in the basement of a school, and in the next, they were in Bobby's scrapyard, and the sun was beginning to rise.
"You did it!" Sam said, clapping the angel-now back in his human vessel-on the back.
He nodded, and together, the three of them entered the house through the back door. Then ended up in the kitchen, where Bobby stood with his back to the boys, yelling into a phone.
"I don't give a damn! I want to know where they're at, now!" he said, turning.
He nearly dropped the phone. But, after a moment, the old hunter recovered, saying into the receiver, "You know what? Never mind. They're right friggin' here!"
He slammed the phone down on its cradle, crossing the small space between him and the boys, shoving a finger in their faces.
"Where in the hell have you three idijits been? You've been missing for damn near twenty-four hours!"
"We've gone longer without contact," Sam said.
Bobby fixed him with a glare that kept him from making any other remarks.
"We had an agreed check in, and you two missed it! Where were you?"
Sam, Dean, and Castiel exchanged a quick glance. Finally, Dean shrugged.
"Okay. Here it goes."
And he told Bobby the truth. The whole, crazy truth. Parallel dimension, talking ducks, slayers, another apocalypse, the whole thing. Finally, at the end, there was a moment of silence. Then, Bobby nodded once.
"I've only got one question for you after that," he said.
"Okay," Sam said.
"How exactly did you get the angel to drop acid?"
fin