Entre (2/???) Team Heaven
Title: Entre
Author: Nalana/ Nightswhisper
Characters/Pairing(s): Pamela, Castiel, Dean, Sam, Zachariah ((possible future Pamela/Sam, Castiel/Dean))
Rating: chapter- PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers up to end of season 4, speculation only for season 5.
Summary: Caught between the oath she never thought she'd never take and loyalty to the morals of the person she once was, Pamela becomes torn between the internal match between heaven and human once more. Castiel, outcast, is similarly torn between what he used to be and what he is coming. The Winchesters try to steer this crazy ride. And Zachariah has his own game plan. This time, heaven's playing for keeps.
Word Count: 1890
Disclaimer: haven't obtained rights since last night.
A/N: Banner 3 on previous post applies to this chapter
“Calm down, cowboy.” Pamela cautioned, holding up her hand. “I’m not a demon, Dean. Even if I were, that wouldn’t do any good on me. You know that.”
“It would make me feel better. That damn woman went through enough. Get the fuck out of her.” Dean was not convinced. Pamela Barnes had family, leaving them unable to salt and burn her like they normally would have for someone involved in their business.
“You’re dead.” Sam gasped, missing his brother’s own anger before realizing his own. “The dead don’t come back without strings attached.”
Pamela kept her hands up as she stepped closer. She was particularly weary of the fact that she knew Dean still had his gun pointed at her. What she didn’t understand was the fear that was radiating off of Castiel behind them.
“Dean.’ Castiel’s voice broke the tension that was rising. “Put your gun down. She’s no demon. She is the woman she appears to be.”
Pamela raised an eyebrow. That was unexpected. The twisting confusion that surrounded the fallen shouldn’t be lending him to help her. Though his words were anything but certain.
“Cas?” Dean asked in return.
“She’s with them.” There was no ambiguity in the flexible word.
“What?” Sam asked, slightly shell shocked.
“Oh hell.” Dean lowered his gun in exasperation. This was low, even for them.
“Just the oppisite, actually.” Pamela’s shoulders relaxed. “It wasn’t an ideal fix for me either, guys. Where I was.. Never mind. The point is I’m here. And if it’s by those bastard’s then at least they’re giving back a little of what they stole.”
The men exchanged looks, the brother’s thinking the same thing: damn our life is fucked up. Dean was the first to speak.
“Did they send you to give me the ‘join forces’ spiel again? They have to know by now it’s not working.”
“Nope. The cheeky brute actually sent me to help you. Said something about showing you a little leniency.” She shrugged.
“Oh bull.” Dean spat, turning his back to her and clenching his fists. “We don’t want help.”
“Oh because you’re so safe on your own!” Pamela snapped, motioning to them. She could smell the burning on the distinctly. “Want it or not, you owe me this, Winchester!”
“EXCUSE me?” Dean spun around. Sam leapt to keep him from lunging at her.
“I help you get this damn thing and they give me what you three took.” She evened out her voice. “My sight. My life. And excluded form the rest of this little war. That my price, and yes, even I was willing to sell out to them if it meant getting out of that place!” Her own voice broke. She crossed her arms again, suddenly feeling cold.
“Hell?” Sam asked, letting go of his brother. His voice was soft, worried.
“Worse.” She cleared her throat. Silence ensued.
“So look, we can either continue this shouting match or we can help each other out and go our separate ways when this is over.” She reasoned.
“And how are we supposed to-“
“Dean.” Sam scolded. “Lets give her a chance. Cas said she was herself, right? What have we got to lose at this point?”
Dean paused. He looked at his brother, and then at Castiel who was avoiding his gaze, until finally he reached the psychic he had met so long ago. She was standing her ground.
“Fine.” His boots crunched against dirt as he walked directly in front of the woman. “One wrong step, and this deal is off. Got it?
“Yup.”
The young woman behind the clerk’s desk gave Pamela an eye over as she stood behind Sam, measuring her up as the younger Winchester asked for another room at the hotel they had been staying at. They didn’t want to leave suddenly after the fire. It was too suspicious. You had to know when to flee and when to stay, especially in a town that wasn’t used to too many strangers. Pamela smiled as she felt the eyes that ran over her that came through as confusion and skepticism doused through and through with jealousy. There were some perks; it seemed, to being psychic if you were blind.
“It’s okay Hun, I’ll pay.” She said, slipping an arm around Sam’s waist, reveling in the envy that peaked in the younger girl. Sam tensed but started to protest in character. Years of acting training did wonders.
“No, no, this was my surprise to you!” she said with false cheer, though she did note the slight truth in it. She fished her wallet from her pocket to produce the one card in it. Zachariah had assured her she’d have unlimited credit. It was a fringe benefit of sorts.
As they exited the office she made sure to snuggle into the massive man for effect. Normally she’d be cackling internally over the younger girl’s disappointment. She was too distracted by the uncertainty and disgust that was lapping off of Sam. I mean, sure, the last time they had spoken had not been ideal. But shouldn’t she the one feeling repulsed?
When they approached her room door, she slipped in the key and let Sam walk her around the room. When he moved back to the door she managed to get between him and it. HE hesitated. She scowled, her head tilting at him.
“Okay, grumpy. Out with it. Now.”
“Uh…huh?”
“I can understand the brooding silent anger from your brother, but I won’t be having it from you. You have an issue with me, so spit it out so we can get over this now.”
Sam didn’t say anything. HE wasn’t sure how to put it. Sighing he walked to the bed and sat down.
“You know, it IS me, don’t you?” She asked, surprised at her own unbalanced tone. Sighing at the lack of response, she followed his footsteps and sat beside him. “Sam?”
“Yea. Yea, I do.” He cleared his throat. “It’s just…you’ve changed.”
“Dying has that effect on people.” She grinned to hear his snorted laugh.
There was more silence. She didn't want to push him. He had already shown more faith in her then she deserved.
“It’s just…” he paused. “The Pamela I knew wouldn’t sell herself to them just to get something back for herself. You hated us for bringing you into this, and you should. But there has to be something else…isn’t there?”
Pamela stayed quiet. How much was she allowed to tell before they would yank her back up and reprimand her for her mouth? Hopefully she’d be fine.
“The angels are determined to win. If I help them, they promise to give us silly apes a rain check n the whole paradise thing.” She blurted.
“What? Pamela we have to-“
“No. Look, I know this is not a perfect solution Sam, but look at the state of the world. We’re going down sooner or later. If I had my choice it will be later. So what can we do? Maybe we can end this war, but eventually humans will destroy themselves. We should run our course. That’s what they’re offering us, a chance. I say we take it. And if we can find a way to kick their asses in return in that extra time, hell yea, I’m all for it. But until then, we need to do SOMETHING.”
Sam let her words digest. She left him to his thoughts again. She wouldn’t tell him what to do, if he could or could not tell Dean. That was his decision. She just hoped like hell he understood. She could use an ally, even if she was being slightly deceptive.
“Okay.” He said. His town, his presence, was lighter. Relieved. There was still weight. There were still questions, doubt, and guilt. But Pamela let them be for now. One step at a time, she told herself.
“Good.” She patted his knee and stood. “Now at least you should be getting back to that brother of yours or,” she smirked, “He’s going to think that desk girl really does have a reason to be jealous of me.”
She took off her sunglasses revealing the milky white glass beneath, and winked. “Unless you’d rather give them something’ to talk about.” The words made her feel almost like her old self. Sam broke out chuckling.
“Maybe later.” He added through his laughter.
“While you two were out, Cas worked something out for us.” Dean sneered the moment Sam and Pamela came through the door. He still had so many issues with this situation. One, people coming back always meant bad things. Two, she seemed way too cool with all of this for a person who was openly working for the beings that, in a sense, lead to her murder. Three, and the part that was really freaking him out, was his brother jumping to her defense. I mean sure, he knew that Sammy felt a little guilty over the whole situation, but this was a little extreme.
“What did you get?” Pamela asked with interest as she slid into one of the door side chairs she assumed to be there from the make up of her own room.
“To thee who be unaligned, who have strength of soul, body, and mind, prosperous be this wandering soul, a gift to be given when paid its toll.” Castiel spoke.
“Well someone’s not winning the poetry contest.” Dean snickered.
“It was the closest translation int-“ Castiel defended himself.
“You said this was some sort of key?” Sam turned his attention back to the woman in the room. She shrugged.
“Okay, college boy. You know what this means?” Dean asked his brother.
Sam took the paper out of Castiel’s out stretched hand and began thinking out loud. It was speaking of something that could be found that granted good fortune. It seemed to be obtained through some sort of test of character. He paused before bursting out laughing. His brother exchanged a look with the fallen.
“Dean, I think…” he paused to laugh once more. “Prosper…strength, dude…” he broke into unbelieving chuckles again.
“Spit it out, man!”
“ I think we have to find the Holy Grail.”
“…I am not wearing a fedora. Whip, sure but…”
“I’m serious, Dean.” Sam’s face became somber. “Everything we’ve ever chased, every legend has a base. Now this thing, it has more than one form too. The Celts had a cauldron. It’s been known as cornucopia, the horn of plenty. All promised good health, wealth, and land.”
“Except it’s not just about crops these days.” Pamela piped in, tapping her chin.
“Okay so say for just a minute this isn’t just some raving lunatic’s pipe dream. Don’t you have to be like completely spotless to get to it? We all know none of us are passing that requirement.” Dean tried to be a solid voice in this bizarre conversation. Then again, he looked at the company and realized the possibility was no less weird then any of them.
“It says unaligned. Maybe you can’t get to it if you intend to use it for something in particular?” Sam asked more than stated.
“Okay, a lot of good THAT’S going to do this, but I’ll bite. Where would we even start looking?
Castiel was the one to answer.
“We’d start where it was created.”
Author: Nalana/ Nightswhisper
Characters/Pairing(s): Pamela, Castiel, Dean, Sam, Zachariah ((possible future Pamela/Sam, Castiel/Dean))
Rating: chapter- PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers up to end of season 4, speculation only for season 5.
Summary: Caught between the oath she never thought she'd never take and loyalty to the morals of the person she once was, Pamela becomes torn between the internal match between heaven and human once more. Castiel, outcast, is similarly torn between what he used to be and what he is coming. The Winchesters try to steer this crazy ride. And Zachariah has his own game plan. This time, heaven's playing for keeps.
Word Count: 1890
Disclaimer: haven't obtained rights since last night.
A/N: Banner 3 on previous post applies to this chapter
“Calm down, cowboy.” Pamela cautioned, holding up her hand. “I’m not a demon, Dean. Even if I were, that wouldn’t do any good on me. You know that.”
“It would make me feel better. That damn woman went through enough. Get the fuck out of her.” Dean was not convinced. Pamela Barnes had family, leaving them unable to salt and burn her like they normally would have for someone involved in their business.
“You’re dead.” Sam gasped, missing his brother’s own anger before realizing his own. “The dead don’t come back without strings attached.”
Pamela kept her hands up as she stepped closer. She was particularly weary of the fact that she knew Dean still had his gun pointed at her. What she didn’t understand was the fear that was radiating off of Castiel behind them.
“Dean.’ Castiel’s voice broke the tension that was rising. “Put your gun down. She’s no demon. She is the woman she appears to be.”
Pamela raised an eyebrow. That was unexpected. The twisting confusion that surrounded the fallen shouldn’t be lending him to help her. Though his words were anything but certain.
“Cas?” Dean asked in return.
“She’s with them.” There was no ambiguity in the flexible word.
“What?” Sam asked, slightly shell shocked.
“Oh hell.” Dean lowered his gun in exasperation. This was low, even for them.
“Just the oppisite, actually.” Pamela’s shoulders relaxed. “It wasn’t an ideal fix for me either, guys. Where I was.. Never mind. The point is I’m here. And if it’s by those bastard’s then at least they’re giving back a little of what they stole.”
The men exchanged looks, the brother’s thinking the same thing: damn our life is fucked up. Dean was the first to speak.
“Did they send you to give me the ‘join forces’ spiel again? They have to know by now it’s not working.”
“Nope. The cheeky brute actually sent me to help you. Said something about showing you a little leniency.” She shrugged.
“Oh bull.” Dean spat, turning his back to her and clenching his fists. “We don’t want help.”
“Oh because you’re so safe on your own!” Pamela snapped, motioning to them. She could smell the burning on the distinctly. “Want it or not, you owe me this, Winchester!”
“EXCUSE me?” Dean spun around. Sam leapt to keep him from lunging at her.
“I help you get this damn thing and they give me what you three took.” She evened out her voice. “My sight. My life. And excluded form the rest of this little war. That my price, and yes, even I was willing to sell out to them if it meant getting out of that place!” Her own voice broke. She crossed her arms again, suddenly feeling cold.
“Hell?” Sam asked, letting go of his brother. His voice was soft, worried.
“Worse.” She cleared her throat. Silence ensued.
“So look, we can either continue this shouting match or we can help each other out and go our separate ways when this is over.” She reasoned.
“And how are we supposed to-“
“Dean.” Sam scolded. “Lets give her a chance. Cas said she was herself, right? What have we got to lose at this point?”
Dean paused. He looked at his brother, and then at Castiel who was avoiding his gaze, until finally he reached the psychic he had met so long ago. She was standing her ground.
“Fine.” His boots crunched against dirt as he walked directly in front of the woman. “One wrong step, and this deal is off. Got it?
“Yup.”
The young woman behind the clerk’s desk gave Pamela an eye over as she stood behind Sam, measuring her up as the younger Winchester asked for another room at the hotel they had been staying at. They didn’t want to leave suddenly after the fire. It was too suspicious. You had to know when to flee and when to stay, especially in a town that wasn’t used to too many strangers. Pamela smiled as she felt the eyes that ran over her that came through as confusion and skepticism doused through and through with jealousy. There were some perks; it seemed, to being psychic if you were blind.
“It’s okay Hun, I’ll pay.” She said, slipping an arm around Sam’s waist, reveling in the envy that peaked in the younger girl. Sam tensed but started to protest in character. Years of acting training did wonders.
“No, no, this was my surprise to you!” she said with false cheer, though she did note the slight truth in it. She fished her wallet from her pocket to produce the one card in it. Zachariah had assured her she’d have unlimited credit. It was a fringe benefit of sorts.
As they exited the office she made sure to snuggle into the massive man for effect. Normally she’d be cackling internally over the younger girl’s disappointment. She was too distracted by the uncertainty and disgust that was lapping off of Sam. I mean, sure, the last time they had spoken had not been ideal. But shouldn’t she the one feeling repulsed?
When they approached her room door, she slipped in the key and let Sam walk her around the room. When he moved back to the door she managed to get between him and it. HE hesitated. She scowled, her head tilting at him.
“Okay, grumpy. Out with it. Now.”
“Uh…huh?”
“I can understand the brooding silent anger from your brother, but I won’t be having it from you. You have an issue with me, so spit it out so we can get over this now.”
Sam didn’t say anything. HE wasn’t sure how to put it. Sighing he walked to the bed and sat down.
“You know, it IS me, don’t you?” She asked, surprised at her own unbalanced tone. Sighing at the lack of response, she followed his footsteps and sat beside him. “Sam?”
“Yea. Yea, I do.” He cleared his throat. “It’s just…you’ve changed.”
“Dying has that effect on people.” She grinned to hear his snorted laugh.
There was more silence. She didn't want to push him. He had already shown more faith in her then she deserved.
“It’s just…” he paused. “The Pamela I knew wouldn’t sell herself to them just to get something back for herself. You hated us for bringing you into this, and you should. But there has to be something else…isn’t there?”
Pamela stayed quiet. How much was she allowed to tell before they would yank her back up and reprimand her for her mouth? Hopefully she’d be fine.
“The angels are determined to win. If I help them, they promise to give us silly apes a rain check n the whole paradise thing.” She blurted.
“What? Pamela we have to-“
“No. Look, I know this is not a perfect solution Sam, but look at the state of the world. We’re going down sooner or later. If I had my choice it will be later. So what can we do? Maybe we can end this war, but eventually humans will destroy themselves. We should run our course. That’s what they’re offering us, a chance. I say we take it. And if we can find a way to kick their asses in return in that extra time, hell yea, I’m all for it. But until then, we need to do SOMETHING.”
Sam let her words digest. She left him to his thoughts again. She wouldn’t tell him what to do, if he could or could not tell Dean. That was his decision. She just hoped like hell he understood. She could use an ally, even if she was being slightly deceptive.
“Okay.” He said. His town, his presence, was lighter. Relieved. There was still weight. There were still questions, doubt, and guilt. But Pamela let them be for now. One step at a time, she told herself.
“Good.” She patted his knee and stood. “Now at least you should be getting back to that brother of yours or,” she smirked, “He’s going to think that desk girl really does have a reason to be jealous of me.”
She took off her sunglasses revealing the milky white glass beneath, and winked. “Unless you’d rather give them something’ to talk about.” The words made her feel almost like her old self. Sam broke out chuckling.
“Maybe later.” He added through his laughter.
“While you two were out, Cas worked something out for us.” Dean sneered the moment Sam and Pamela came through the door. He still had so many issues with this situation. One, people coming back always meant bad things. Two, she seemed way too cool with all of this for a person who was openly working for the beings that, in a sense, lead to her murder. Three, and the part that was really freaking him out, was his brother jumping to her defense. I mean sure, he knew that Sammy felt a little guilty over the whole situation, but this was a little extreme.
“What did you get?” Pamela asked with interest as she slid into one of the door side chairs she assumed to be there from the make up of her own room.
“To thee who be unaligned, who have strength of soul, body, and mind, prosperous be this wandering soul, a gift to be given when paid its toll.” Castiel spoke.
“Well someone’s not winning the poetry contest.” Dean snickered.
“It was the closest translation int-“ Castiel defended himself.
“You said this was some sort of key?” Sam turned his attention back to the woman in the room. She shrugged.
“Okay, college boy. You know what this means?” Dean asked his brother.
Sam took the paper out of Castiel’s out stretched hand and began thinking out loud. It was speaking of something that could be found that granted good fortune. It seemed to be obtained through some sort of test of character. He paused before bursting out laughing. His brother exchanged a look with the fallen.
“Dean, I think…” he paused to laugh once more. “Prosper…strength, dude…” he broke into unbelieving chuckles again.
“Spit it out, man!”
“ I think we have to find the Holy Grail.”
“…I am not wearing a fedora. Whip, sure but…”
“I’m serious, Dean.” Sam’s face became somber. “Everything we’ve ever chased, every legend has a base. Now this thing, it has more than one form too. The Celts had a cauldron. It’s been known as cornucopia, the horn of plenty. All promised good health, wealth, and land.”
“Except it’s not just about crops these days.” Pamela piped in, tapping her chin.
“Okay so say for just a minute this isn’t just some raving lunatic’s pipe dream. Don’t you have to be like completely spotless to get to it? We all know none of us are passing that requirement.” Dean tried to be a solid voice in this bizarre conversation. Then again, he looked at the company and realized the possibility was no less weird then any of them.
“It says unaligned. Maybe you can’t get to it if you intend to use it for something in particular?” Sam asked more than stated.
“Okay, a lot of good THAT’S going to do this, but I’ll bite. Where would we even start looking?
Castiel was the one to answer.
“We’d start where it was created.”