Fic: Thicker Than Water 2/?
Title: Thicker Than Water 2/?
Author: dragon_fall
Fandoms: Supernatural/True Blood
Rating: R
Warnings: none yet
Summary: Sometimes he wondered if he’d played the fool around his brother too much and Sam was starting to believe the act.
Author's Note: Takes place after Lucifer Rising and at the beginning of True Blood Season 2. Since I started writing this months ago it is AU in the True Blood universe, but pieces from this season will be working themselves in.
“Dude, what’s with the cock blocking?”
Dean glared at his brother.
“We’re not staying here, Dean,” Sam said, before starting in on a speech about how they needed to find Lucifer. Dean stopped listening. How Sam thought he could forget about that was anyone’s guess. Sometimes he wondered if he’d played the fool around his brother too much and Sam was starting to believe the act. Besides, when he got on his “you have to stop it” kick he sounded too much like the angels for Dean’s comfort.
“Have you heard a word I said?”
“Yeah, yeah, I have,” Dean muttered. “Reminds me of how you were when you had a hardon for finding Lilith.”
Sam leaned back, but Dean continued before he could reply. “Listen, I know you feel guilty, I know you wanna find a way to fix it, but we are not ready to go trailing after a fallen angel, even if we knew where to start looking.” They’d waited for weeks for a sign: nuclear explosion, seas boiling, something to signal that Lucifer was making his move, but there was nothing. It was as quiet as it had been a year ago right after the Devil’s Gate opened.
“You’re sure you haven’t heard from the angels?” Sam’s eyes were narrowed. “No dreams… signs… nothing?”
“No.” Dean took a drink. “Nothing from Zachariah, or…or Cas.”
Sam backed down. They hadn’t heard from the angel since the night he set Lucifer free. They’d gone to Chuck's, but the house had been completely destroyed, burned in a fire so hot the ground had melted into dark, shining glass. “He’s still alive, Dean.” The words sounded empty, even to him.
“Yeah.” His expression cleared. “In the meantime, the world’s ending… and personally I’d like to have as much sex as possible before it finally goes.” He took a huge bite out of his burger.
“The angels have to be planning something,” San worried a French fry. “They said they needed you.”
“Yeah, to fight Lucifer. Lucifer, Sam. The same Lucifer the douches let out in the first place. That’s about as heavy duty as it gets.” He dropped the burger. “What I don’t understand is if they were so dead set on this why they decided I was the one who had to climb in the ring. I’m not super powered, and I’m sure as hell not an angel. Don’t even qualify to be a vessel.”
“There must be a reason.”
Dean gave a half shake and picked up his burger. “Can we not talk about this right now, please?”
Sam shrugged and the two ate in silence.
Jesse Spence slammed out of his car, duffle bag in hand. Fuck Sarah, anyway, he thought as he marched to his apartment. If she wanted it to be over, then it was over. She was a pudgy bottle blond from Shreveport, and it wasn’t like there weren’t more fish in the sea.
“Shit,” he muttered as he dropped his keys, promising himself to fix the light by his door. The landlord should have fixed it weeks ago, but Jesse had learned the hard way that the old woman didn’t do a single goddamned thing more than she had to.
The wind picked up as he straightened, swinging the streetlight before the whole thing blew out in a shower of sparks. He flinched and turned. The hanging light was in the middle of the street, sparking everywhere. Great, now he'd have to call the city on top of everything else. The news said it was supposed to be clear, but it looked like clouds were rolling in.
Jesse was fitting the key in the lock when something crashed into him from behind.
"All right, all right!" Sarah Josh yelled as she rolled out of bed, but the hammering continued. It was after two, she had work in four hours, and whoever was at the door was going to get both of those facts screamed at them. "Damn it," she grumbled as she kicked a side table. "Who is it?"
"It's me."
Sarah twitched the blinds aside. Jesse was outside, bouncing from foot to foot. "It's two in the god-damned morning," she called through the door. "What do you want?"
"Sarah… look, I'm sorry, all right?"
"Sorry don't cut it, asshole." She looked outside again. He was leaning against the front door now, and she had an idea what brought on this sudden regret. "You're drunk, Jesse. Go sleep it off somewhere else."
"I'm not drunk, baby." He paused. "Will you let me in? I feel stupid arguin' through a door like this."
The blonde bit her lip. She should let him stay outside until he got tired and left, but she wanted to get this over with as quick as possible. There was no telling how long he'd stay making an ass of himself otherwise. "Ten minutes, Jesse," she told him as she unlocked the door. "I gotta work in the morning."
Jesse squeezed through the door once the chain was off. "Thanks," he said once she closed the door behind him. "That makes this so much easier."
She leaned her forehead against the cool wood of the door. "Listen Jesse, just say what you're-"
She was cut off by the vase next to the door connecting with her head.
"Yeah. We'll be there. Tonight at eleven." Dean flipped his phone shut and sat down on the bed. "Finally."
Sam tried not to wince as the bed springs protested Dean's weight. The Motor Inn wasn't as bad as some of the places they'd had to hold up in. It was clean, the sheets had been washed sometime in the previous week, and the neighbors weren't the rent by the hour variety. For that alone he could deal with squeaky springs.
"So, we on or what?" he asked as he closed his laptop.
"Tonight." Dean leaned back, balancing his fists on his forehead. "Eleven o'clock, three miles west of Highway 167."
Sam half turned in his chair. "Okay, now that you've talked to whoever it is, will you tell me what we're doing down here?"
Dean sighed and sat up. "We're meeting someone who can tell us where Cas is."
"What, an angel?" Sam perked up.
"No." Dean's expression was cagey.
The younger Winchester rolled his eyes. There was only one reason he could think of for Dean to drag them to Louisiana. "You're gonna ask some hoodoo woman to find Castiel for us? Dean-"
"I know Sam," Dean cut him off. "Voodoo's only a little less skeevy than witchcraft, but it's all we got. Bobby couldn't find anything when he did his mojo." Not necessarily. The pointer couldn't decide where it wanted to stop when they tried. All four times. "This lady's our best bet. Besides, she owes me, and you know how they feel about debts."
Sam blinked. "Okay, so this isn't quite as crazy as it sounds. But what makes you think she can help? If the angels have Cas stashed somewhere, how'll she be able to find him?"
Dean's expression turned solemn. "This is the end of the line, Sam. I've tried summoning spells, ouija boards, Anna. Hell, I even tried to get Zachariah to tell me something." He'd spent over three hours outside Bobby's screaming for the angels before giving up. After five nights it was clear that they weren’t planning on telling him dick. "If she can't help, then I don't know what else to do."
Sam didn't say anything, just watched as Dean started pacing. He'd asked Dean before if he was just fooling himself, what made him think Castiel had been able to survive an archangel. Dean just rubbed his shoulder and said he'd know if the angel was dead.
The thought should have been comforting, but it wasn't.
Wake up.
Jimmy Novak opened his eyes, and slammed them shut again. The sun was directly overhead, pouring into his eyes and adding to the headache making his temples pound. Gingerly, he sat up. He hurt…everywhere; his skin felt tight, his lungs were burning, and his mouth felt like someone had shoved dirty socks in it and left them there for hours.
We need to move.
“Who…” He raised a hand to his head. The last thing he remembered was the warehouse…begging Castiel to take him instead of Claire…
I am here…
“Castiel?” Jimmy glanced around and climbed to his feet, groaning at the movement pulled his muscles. It felt like he’d been beaten, even the soles of his feet hurt. He was in the middle of an unpaved crossroads, scrub brush lining the narrow lanes. There were no markers, no traffic sounds. Not even insects.
We must hurry, James, Castiel’s voice seemed to come from all around him. We have little time.
“Hurry where?” He checked his pockets. His wallet was where it had been for over a year, and a glance revealed that it still held his credit cards and the sixty dollars he’d taken out on his way home.
We must find Sam and Dean.
Jimmy turned a tight circle. “Where are you?” he asked, looking to the sky.
Inside you.
James Novak looked down at himself. He was wearing the same clothes he’d worn since giving his body to the angel. “You’re what?”
“Inside you, James.”
James spun around, and kept spinning, his legs turning to liquid. He could make out the blurred shape of a man as he stumbled, landing hard on one knee.
“Careful there.” Hands gripped him, lifted him to his feet. “I understand this can be quiet disorienting.”
Zachariah.
Jimmy tried to make sense of the images cascading through his mind. Whoever this creature was, Castiel was wary of him. "Who are you?" he asked, looking up into the blurred face.
"I'm surprised Castiel isn't screaming at you to run away by down," the voice said cheerily. "He can't be happy to see me."
As he spoke Jimmy's vision cleared. The man holding him up was older and wearing a tailored business suit, with pale blue eyes that were examining him almost clinically.
Castiel grappled with James, taking control and shoving the human as far down as he could. When James was completely submerged he spoke. “What have you done, Zachariah?”
The angel’s head tilted for a second, eyes narrowed in speculation, then amusement. “Dean Winchester really did rub off on you, didn’t he, Castiel?” He loosened his grip and circled the angel slowly. “We were wondering how far down the corruption had spread, whether it was at the surface or went down to the foundations." He shook his head with a sigh. "Looks like our attempts at helping you were for not.”
“You tortured me.” He felt…strange… to admit that. Even at the time he hadn’t seen it as torture. They were trying, in their misguided way, to help him.
Zachariah waved a hand, a smile stretching his features. “Tomato, tamato… that’s not what’s important here.”
“Why am I still alive?” He hadn’t planned on living past his encounter with Zubiel… had fully intended to die there, with the knowledge that he’d done all he could. Hoped he could have brought Dean enough time to save his brother, the world, from the machinations of angels.
“Seeing as the grand finale’s about to begin we can't afford to lose another soldier.” The angel gave him a once over, the plastered-on smile fading. “Even one that’s forgotten his place. My superiors wanted to end you, Castiel, but I convinced them to let you live. For the time being.”
Large hands cupped his shoulders and he flinched. He was aware of the pressure of them in a way he hadn’t been before, the strength that could crush him before he could respond. Castiel frowned, reached out with his senses.
And felt nothing.
He could feel the sun as it poured down, baking his vessel in his too-heavy clothes. He could feel the wind, smell dry grass and old wood, but he wasn’t aware. There was no wonder, no awe in his surroundings. The subtle sway of energies that connected all living things was gone. In its place was a terrible quiet that made something hot and spiked bloom in his chest. The thrum of life, the pulse of mortality was absent. He turned to Zachariah, eyes wide. “What have you done?”
The hands were lifted from his shoulders. “Consider this being grounded. Since the traditional punishments didn’t make an impression we got creative.” He walked away. “You were willing to give up everything to help these meat sacs, so we thought we’d give you a chance to experience them first hand. Maybe then you'll appreciate what we're trying to do for them.”
Castiel stared at the angel before gathering himself. He could run, he wouldn’t get far, but he could get to Dean, let the man know he was still alive. He pushed, felt the ether part.
Then nothing.
He should have been standing wherever Dean was, but he wasn’t. He was still standing in the middle of a crossroads, moisture pooling between his vessel’s shoulder blades. He tried again, this time pushing at the vessel. It wasn’t right to leave James to deal with Zachariah, but he had no choice. He whispered an apology before flowing outward, up, and hitting a wall. He was trapped; trapped inside his vessel, unable to escape. The spiked heat in his chest spread, flowing into his stomach and reaching into his throat, he tried to draw in breath, but couldn’t.
“You feel that, Castiel?” Zachariah was staring at him. “I believe human’s call it panic.”
You have to calm down, James’s voice filtered through the haze. You keep this up we’ll pass out!
"It breaks my heart to see you like this," Zachariah said from above him. "You used to be one of our best; followed orders without question, believed in the Word. Now look at you. This is what humanity has brought you to, brother."
Castiel could feel himself fading as Zachariah spoke. His vision was blurring at the edges, his lungs burned. He was dying, he knew it.
Jimmy didn't know what he did; he just knew that if he didn't do something they'd pass out. It felt like he'd reached out and grabbed a white-hot anvil with both hands. Then he was in control again, forcing lungs too long without air to expand.
"Hmmm…"
He looked up. Zachariah was staring down at him, eyes clouded with curiosity.
"Where are we?" he managed to croak.
"Oh… nowhere special," the angel waved a hand. "Just a place where you'll both be out of the way for a while. Consider this a vacation from your duties as a vessel." He looked at his watch. "Well, that's all the time I have right now. We'll be back to pick you up when he's learned his lesson."
When the angel vanished Jimmy said the only thing he could think of.
"Fuck."
________________________________________________________________________
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Author: dragon_fall
Fandoms: Supernatural/True Blood
Rating: R
Warnings: none yet
Summary: Sometimes he wondered if he’d played the fool around his brother too much and Sam was starting to believe the act.
Author's Note: Takes place after Lucifer Rising and at the beginning of True Blood Season 2. Since I started writing this months ago it is AU in the True Blood universe, but pieces from this season will be working themselves in.
“Dude, what’s with the cock blocking?”
Dean glared at his brother.
“We’re not staying here, Dean,” Sam said, before starting in on a speech about how they needed to find Lucifer. Dean stopped listening. How Sam thought he could forget about that was anyone’s guess. Sometimes he wondered if he’d played the fool around his brother too much and Sam was starting to believe the act. Besides, when he got on his “you have to stop it” kick he sounded too much like the angels for Dean’s comfort.
“Have you heard a word I said?”
“Yeah, yeah, I have,” Dean muttered. “Reminds me of how you were when you had a hardon for finding Lilith.”
Sam leaned back, but Dean continued before he could reply. “Listen, I know you feel guilty, I know you wanna find a way to fix it, but we are not ready to go trailing after a fallen angel, even if we knew where to start looking.” They’d waited for weeks for a sign: nuclear explosion, seas boiling, something to signal that Lucifer was making his move, but there was nothing. It was as quiet as it had been a year ago right after the Devil’s Gate opened.
“You’re sure you haven’t heard from the angels?” Sam’s eyes were narrowed. “No dreams… signs… nothing?”
“No.” Dean took a drink. “Nothing from Zachariah, or…or Cas.”
Sam backed down. They hadn’t heard from the angel since the night he set Lucifer free. They’d gone to Chuck's, but the house had been completely destroyed, burned in a fire so hot the ground had melted into dark, shining glass. “He’s still alive, Dean.” The words sounded empty, even to him.
“Yeah.” His expression cleared. “In the meantime, the world’s ending… and personally I’d like to have as much sex as possible before it finally goes.” He took a huge bite out of his burger.
“The angels have to be planning something,” San worried a French fry. “They said they needed you.”
“Yeah, to fight Lucifer. Lucifer, Sam. The same Lucifer the douches let out in the first place. That’s about as heavy duty as it gets.” He dropped the burger. “What I don’t understand is if they were so dead set on this why they decided I was the one who had to climb in the ring. I’m not super powered, and I’m sure as hell not an angel. Don’t even qualify to be a vessel.”
“There must be a reason.”
Dean gave a half shake and picked up his burger. “Can we not talk about this right now, please?”
Sam shrugged and the two ate in silence.
Jesse Spence slammed out of his car, duffle bag in hand. Fuck Sarah, anyway, he thought as he marched to his apartment. If she wanted it to be over, then it was over. She was a pudgy bottle blond from Shreveport, and it wasn’t like there weren’t more fish in the sea.
“Shit,” he muttered as he dropped his keys, promising himself to fix the light by his door. The landlord should have fixed it weeks ago, but Jesse had learned the hard way that the old woman didn’t do a single goddamned thing more than she had to.
The wind picked up as he straightened, swinging the streetlight before the whole thing blew out in a shower of sparks. He flinched and turned. The hanging light was in the middle of the street, sparking everywhere. Great, now he'd have to call the city on top of everything else. The news said it was supposed to be clear, but it looked like clouds were rolling in.
Jesse was fitting the key in the lock when something crashed into him from behind.
"All right, all right!" Sarah Josh yelled as she rolled out of bed, but the hammering continued. It was after two, she had work in four hours, and whoever was at the door was going to get both of those facts screamed at them. "Damn it," she grumbled as she kicked a side table. "Who is it?"
"It's me."
Sarah twitched the blinds aside. Jesse was outside, bouncing from foot to foot. "It's two in the god-damned morning," she called through the door. "What do you want?"
"Sarah… look, I'm sorry, all right?"
"Sorry don't cut it, asshole." She looked outside again. He was leaning against the front door now, and she had an idea what brought on this sudden regret. "You're drunk, Jesse. Go sleep it off somewhere else."
"I'm not drunk, baby." He paused. "Will you let me in? I feel stupid arguin' through a door like this."
The blonde bit her lip. She should let him stay outside until he got tired and left, but she wanted to get this over with as quick as possible. There was no telling how long he'd stay making an ass of himself otherwise. "Ten minutes, Jesse," she told him as she unlocked the door. "I gotta work in the morning."
Jesse squeezed through the door once the chain was off. "Thanks," he said once she closed the door behind him. "That makes this so much easier."
She leaned her forehead against the cool wood of the door. "Listen Jesse, just say what you're-"
She was cut off by the vase next to the door connecting with her head.
"Yeah. We'll be there. Tonight at eleven." Dean flipped his phone shut and sat down on the bed. "Finally."
Sam tried not to wince as the bed springs protested Dean's weight. The Motor Inn wasn't as bad as some of the places they'd had to hold up in. It was clean, the sheets had been washed sometime in the previous week, and the neighbors weren't the rent by the hour variety. For that alone he could deal with squeaky springs.
"So, we on or what?" he asked as he closed his laptop.
"Tonight." Dean leaned back, balancing his fists on his forehead. "Eleven o'clock, three miles west of Highway 167."
Sam half turned in his chair. "Okay, now that you've talked to whoever it is, will you tell me what we're doing down here?"
Dean sighed and sat up. "We're meeting someone who can tell us where Cas is."
"What, an angel?" Sam perked up.
"No." Dean's expression was cagey.
The younger Winchester rolled his eyes. There was only one reason he could think of for Dean to drag them to Louisiana. "You're gonna ask some hoodoo woman to find Castiel for us? Dean-"
"I know Sam," Dean cut him off. "Voodoo's only a little less skeevy than witchcraft, but it's all we got. Bobby couldn't find anything when he did his mojo." Not necessarily. The pointer couldn't decide where it wanted to stop when they tried. All four times. "This lady's our best bet. Besides, she owes me, and you know how they feel about debts."
Sam blinked. "Okay, so this isn't quite as crazy as it sounds. But what makes you think she can help? If the angels have Cas stashed somewhere, how'll she be able to find him?"
Dean's expression turned solemn. "This is the end of the line, Sam. I've tried summoning spells, ouija boards, Anna. Hell, I even tried to get Zachariah to tell me something." He'd spent over three hours outside Bobby's screaming for the angels before giving up. After five nights it was clear that they weren’t planning on telling him dick. "If she can't help, then I don't know what else to do."
Sam didn't say anything, just watched as Dean started pacing. He'd asked Dean before if he was just fooling himself, what made him think Castiel had been able to survive an archangel. Dean just rubbed his shoulder and said he'd know if the angel was dead.
The thought should have been comforting, but it wasn't.
Wake up.
Jimmy Novak opened his eyes, and slammed them shut again. The sun was directly overhead, pouring into his eyes and adding to the headache making his temples pound. Gingerly, he sat up. He hurt…everywhere; his skin felt tight, his lungs were burning, and his mouth felt like someone had shoved dirty socks in it and left them there for hours.
We need to move.
“Who…” He raised a hand to his head. The last thing he remembered was the warehouse…begging Castiel to take him instead of Claire…
I am here…
“Castiel?” Jimmy glanced around and climbed to his feet, groaning at the movement pulled his muscles. It felt like he’d been beaten, even the soles of his feet hurt. He was in the middle of an unpaved crossroads, scrub brush lining the narrow lanes. There were no markers, no traffic sounds. Not even insects.
We must hurry, James, Castiel’s voice seemed to come from all around him. We have little time.
“Hurry where?” He checked his pockets. His wallet was where it had been for over a year, and a glance revealed that it still held his credit cards and the sixty dollars he’d taken out on his way home.
We must find Sam and Dean.
Jimmy turned a tight circle. “Where are you?” he asked, looking to the sky.
Inside you.
James Novak looked down at himself. He was wearing the same clothes he’d worn since giving his body to the angel. “You’re what?”
“Inside you, James.”
James spun around, and kept spinning, his legs turning to liquid. He could make out the blurred shape of a man as he stumbled, landing hard on one knee.
“Careful there.” Hands gripped him, lifted him to his feet. “I understand this can be quiet disorienting.”
Zachariah.
Jimmy tried to make sense of the images cascading through his mind. Whoever this creature was, Castiel was wary of him. "Who are you?" he asked, looking up into the blurred face.
"I'm surprised Castiel isn't screaming at you to run away by down," the voice said cheerily. "He can't be happy to see me."
As he spoke Jimmy's vision cleared. The man holding him up was older and wearing a tailored business suit, with pale blue eyes that were examining him almost clinically.
Castiel grappled with James, taking control and shoving the human as far down as he could. When James was completely submerged he spoke. “What have you done, Zachariah?”
The angel’s head tilted for a second, eyes narrowed in speculation, then amusement. “Dean Winchester really did rub off on you, didn’t he, Castiel?” He loosened his grip and circled the angel slowly. “We were wondering how far down the corruption had spread, whether it was at the surface or went down to the foundations." He shook his head with a sigh. "Looks like our attempts at helping you were for not.”
“You tortured me.” He felt…strange… to admit that. Even at the time he hadn’t seen it as torture. They were trying, in their misguided way, to help him.
Zachariah waved a hand, a smile stretching his features. “Tomato, tamato… that’s not what’s important here.”
“Why am I still alive?” He hadn’t planned on living past his encounter with Zubiel… had fully intended to die there, with the knowledge that he’d done all he could. Hoped he could have brought Dean enough time to save his brother, the world, from the machinations of angels.
“Seeing as the grand finale’s about to begin we can't afford to lose another soldier.” The angel gave him a once over, the plastered-on smile fading. “Even one that’s forgotten his place. My superiors wanted to end you, Castiel, but I convinced them to let you live. For the time being.”
Large hands cupped his shoulders and he flinched. He was aware of the pressure of them in a way he hadn’t been before, the strength that could crush him before he could respond. Castiel frowned, reached out with his senses.
And felt nothing.
He could feel the sun as it poured down, baking his vessel in his too-heavy clothes. He could feel the wind, smell dry grass and old wood, but he wasn’t aware. There was no wonder, no awe in his surroundings. The subtle sway of energies that connected all living things was gone. In its place was a terrible quiet that made something hot and spiked bloom in his chest. The thrum of life, the pulse of mortality was absent. He turned to Zachariah, eyes wide. “What have you done?”
The hands were lifted from his shoulders. “Consider this being grounded. Since the traditional punishments didn’t make an impression we got creative.” He walked away. “You were willing to give up everything to help these meat sacs, so we thought we’d give you a chance to experience them first hand. Maybe then you'll appreciate what we're trying to do for them.”
Castiel stared at the angel before gathering himself. He could run, he wouldn’t get far, but he could get to Dean, let the man know he was still alive. He pushed, felt the ether part.
Then nothing.
He should have been standing wherever Dean was, but he wasn’t. He was still standing in the middle of a crossroads, moisture pooling between his vessel’s shoulder blades. He tried again, this time pushing at the vessel. It wasn’t right to leave James to deal with Zachariah, but he had no choice. He whispered an apology before flowing outward, up, and hitting a wall. He was trapped; trapped inside his vessel, unable to escape. The spiked heat in his chest spread, flowing into his stomach and reaching into his throat, he tried to draw in breath, but couldn’t.
“You feel that, Castiel?” Zachariah was staring at him. “I believe human’s call it panic.”
You have to calm down, James’s voice filtered through the haze. You keep this up we’ll pass out!
"It breaks my heart to see you like this," Zachariah said from above him. "You used to be one of our best; followed orders without question, believed in the Word. Now look at you. This is what humanity has brought you to, brother."
Castiel could feel himself fading as Zachariah spoke. His vision was blurring at the edges, his lungs burned. He was dying, he knew it.
Jimmy didn't know what he did; he just knew that if he didn't do something they'd pass out. It felt like he'd reached out and grabbed a white-hot anvil with both hands. Then he was in control again, forcing lungs too long without air to expand.
"Hmmm…"
He looked up. Zachariah was staring down at him, eyes clouded with curiosity.
"Where are we?" he managed to croak.
"Oh… nowhere special," the angel waved a hand. "Just a place where you'll both be out of the way for a while. Consider this a vacation from your duties as a vessel." He looked at his watch. "Well, that's all the time I have right now. We'll be back to pick you up when he's learned his lesson."
When the angel vanished Jimmy said the only thing he could think of.
"Fuck."
________________________________________________________________________
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed ^_^
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