anntarot - fic - The Holy Elephant Job (Part One)
Title: The Holy Elephant Gun Job, Part One
Author: fleurlb
Giftee: anntarot
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Nate, Sophie, Parker, Hardison, Eliot, Dean and Sam Winchester, and Castiel
Word Count: 9,000
Spoilers: For Leverage - entire second season. For Supernatural - through 5.10
Warnings: Not really.
Disclaimer: I own nothing here and am just doing this for fun.
Summary: Castiel’s last-ditch effort to save the world from the apocalypse is going to require some extra help.
Notes: This is an unbeta’d pinch hit that was written in two days, so all errors are my own. Hope you enjoyed it, anntarot. (Also, I 'stalked' your LJ and surmised that you probably watched SPN....really hoping that's true. :))
Sam, Dean, and Castiel had been holed up at Bobby’s for two weeks, scouring his books and racking their brains to think of a Plan B now that the Colt had failed them. As each book yielded nothing and their plans became increasingly half-baked, even Castiel started to slump at the kitchen table, the fight and hope draining out of him. In all his years of existence, he’d never felt so bleak and helpless, and he was starting to understand the allure of alcohol.
“How about that holy salad dressing? We get Lucifer to meet us somewhere, trick him into walking into the trap, light it on fire....” Dean paused to make a whooshing sound, gesturing with his hands to show flames licking the air.
“Dean, if it were really that simple,” replied Sam, a note of frustration in his voice. Bobby, passed out on the couch, didn’t reply at all.
Castiel considered the plan, running it through to its logical conclusion, studying it carefully for flaws. “The oil wouldn’t last forever. Even if we replenished it frequently, there would be risks. Lucifer would be able to talk, to persuade, to do his worst on whomever was left behind to tend to the fire....No, that is not a good plan.”
“We could wear earplugs,” said Dean, grasping at straws. He took a long pull of his beer, looking at Castiel with wide, pleading eyes.
“I don’t think you understand, Dean. Lucifer is incredibly powerful, incredibly persuasive. It’s too much of a risk, especially, well, especially considering that Sam is his vessel.”
Sam sighed and ducked his head, suddenly pretending extreme interest in an ancient Babylonian text. Castiel looked at him, nearly through him, for a moment and then looked away. Dean continued to drink his beer, idly peeling at the label between sips, and time relentlessly spun forward, ticking away in the stuffy farmhouse.
Slowly recognizing the cramping and discomfort of sitting for too long, Castiel stood up and rested his hands on the back of the wooden kitchen chair. He bowed his head, the way he used to in the old days, when he still believed that prayer was a powerful weapon. A pang of something he couldn’t identify, a bitter yet tender sensation nudged at his heart. Weapon... there was that story.
Without lifting his head, he began to speak. “There is one possibility. A special weapon: powerful and holy, built for taking down large threats from a distance.”
“A special weapon that’s absolutely suits our needs... And you just ‘remembered’?” asked Sam, rolling the last word in sarcastic disbelief.
“No, I didn’t just remember. I’d discounted the possibility because obtaining and using the weapon will most likely prove to be impossible,” replied Castiel, again fixing Sam with a sharp look.
“A holy elephant gun, I like it. What are we waiting for?” asked Dean, standing up and rubbing his hands together. He was smiling for the first time in days and Castiel could feel the hope, misplaced yet intoxicating, bubbling out of him.
Castiel held up a hand, wishing, not for the first time, that he still had his full complement of angel powers. “Dean, it’s not going to be that easy. My recollection is that the weapon is disassembled and stored in three incredibly difficult to reach locations. I’ll need to consult to someone to confirm the hiding places. And we’ll need a plan.”
“So go consult. We’ll wait right here,” replied Dean. He covered the distance to the ancient refrigerator in two long strides and took out a couple of beers. Castiel watched him set one in front of Sam, and he was momentarily transfixed by the condensation.
“Cas? You still with us?” asked Sam.
Castiel looked up and blinked. “I’d have thought that was obvious.”
“You were going to consult?” said Dean.
“Yes, but first. While I’m gone, you both need to think about the plan.”
“I thought the plan was that we break into these three locations, grab the pieces, assemble the holy elephant gun and gank Lucifer’s slimy ass,” said Dean, flipping around a chair and then sitting on it backwards.
“In theory, yes. But in practice, it’s not going to be that easy. We’re going to need help, people who are able-bodied, strong-willed, devious, capable, but still with good intentions and pure hearts. With Jo and Ellen gone, we’re going to need to find someone who can fill that role. Or, several someones.”
Sam and Dean shared a look that Castiel couldn’t quite interpret, but he knew that there was some sadness and regret there. He also knew that the recriminations and second-guessing would start soon, so, without a word, he turned and left.
--//--
For three days, Sam and Dean tossed around names with Bobby. They thought of every hunter they’d ever known, but each one was discounted for various reasons. Mostly, a lot of hunters wanted Sam dead, so even if they’d be perfect for the job, they couldn’t be trusted.
“Guys, I think it’s time we thought outside of the box,” said Sam, flipping a Nerf football over to Dean.
Dean caught it and rolled it around in his hands as he thought. “Sorry, all the non-hunters I know are beautiful girls, who have many charms, but being able to pull of something like this would not be one of them. Bobby?”
“I still think Rufus would help,” he replied, his mouth pressed into a thin, stubborn line.
“Help us, Sammy-wan, you’re our only hope,” said Dean, rifling the football back to Sam. He grinned when his brother was too slow and it nailed him right between the eyes.
“I’ve thought of everyone I know,” replied Sam, rubbing his forehead.
“C’mon, Sammy. You’re the only one of us who’s had a life outside of hunting. You must remember someone from Stanford who might fit the bill,” said Dean.
Sam closed his eyes, scrunching them tightly as he thought. Dean could picture the mental Rolodex spinning in the kid’s brain. His freakishly large and overdeveloped brain, which fit perfectly inside that freakishly large and overdeveloped head. He was just about to roll out the perfect crack about Sam’s head when he saw all the muscles relax in Sam’s face, like he’d just been hit by divine inspiration.
“You got something?” asked Dean cautiously.
“Yeah, I kinda do. This is totally random, but I took an investigations and criminology class and one of the guys who talked to us was this insurance investigator.”
“I hate those guys,” interjected Bobby. “They’re all a buncha officious weenies, you ask me.”
“Yeah, but there was something different about this guy. Nate....Nate Ford, I think was his name. And he talked about pulling cons on criminals to get stolen goods back.”
“Nathan Ford?” asked Bobby, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his baseball cap.
“Yeah, you know him?”
Bobby wheeled away from the desk over to the sofa, where a pile of newspapers sat. He rummaged through them before he came up with what he was looking for. He handed it to Dean, who quickly skimmed the article, giving the highlights as he read.
“Nathan Ford.....released from prison after turning state’s evidence against a corrupt mayor and international gun runner.”
“Great, he’s a thief,” said Bobby, rolling his eyes.
“Well, now, that doesn’t necessarily disqualify him,” said Dean absentmindedly as he continued to read. “Now, this is interesting. Says here that he’s been accused by Interpol of being some half-cocked modern day Robin Hood, stealing from the rich to give to the poor. And that he works with a team of shady and highly skilled thieves and grifters.”
“Okay, well, when I knew him, he was just an insurance investigator, but you could sense something off him. A sort of relentlessness and a keen sense of justice or something.”
“Nice, and did you read his tea leaves too, Kreskin?” asked Dean.
Sam rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Dean. We’re desperate here and you know it.”
Dean dropped the newspaper with a shrug. “Sure, all great plans are hatched out of desperation. Let me call Cas and see what’s going on, then we’ll go find this guy and his band of merry men.”
--//--
The Leverage team was in Nate’s apartment going over the briefing for their next case, and Parker was bored. You could only take down so many crooked titans of industry before they all started to blur together. She’d spent the last fifteen minutes fidgeting on the couch next to Hardison, mostly because she liked it when he reached out and stilled her legs.
In between fidgeting, Parker wished for an interruption, like the smoke alarm or a phone call, to put an end to the briefing. Not for the first time, she wished that she had supernatural powers, which in her opinion were the ultimate Get Out of Jail Free card.
When the knock came on the door, three insistent raps, Parker nearly believed that she’d caused it. She looked up in surprise, watching Nate and Eliot share a mistrustful look.
“Hardison, I thought you set up the security so no one but us could get to the apartments,” said Eliot, his tone accusatory.
“I did. The door locks need a key and a keycard, both of which are unpickable and unhackable,” replied Hardison, frowning. He tapped away at his wireless keyboard and the pictures from the briefing disappeared off the monitors.
Parker nodded and watched him pull up the security camera feed. “I designed the locks and I’ve never been able to pick them. Not even once.”
“And I designed the keycard system. It’s not hackable,” insisted Hardison. He flipped through the security footage from all the cameras, reversing the last five minutes on each of them. Then he checked the footage from the camera right outside Nate’s door. It showed three men waiting.
“So what are you saying? That these guys just beamed in here?” asked Eliot, his voice laced with a ridiculing and disbelieving tone.
“Pretty much,” said Hardison, gesturing helplessly at the rest of the camera feeds.
Parker felt a little thrill at the idea of strange men beaming themselves into Nate’s hallway. This was exciting. Much better than hearing about how a shady property developer had ripped off mothers and orphans or whatever.
“Any of you know these guys?” asked Nate as Hardison zoomed in on their faces and upper bodies.
“No, although I wouldn’t mind knowing the tall one,” said Sophie. Parker had noticed that ever since Nate had come back from prison, the grifter had taken to subtly and not-so-subtly poking Nate with words. It had been interesting to watch for the first couple of weeks, but now it was starting to get boring.
Nate ignored her, the way he always did, and looked at Hardison and Parker, who both shook their heads. “Eliot?”
“The one in the leather jacket looks familiar, but I’d have to hear him talk to be sure.”
Just then, the respectable looking one in the slightly rumpled trenchcoat knocked again. Nate and Eliot shared another look and Parker jumped up, headed for the door, but Eliot caught her.
“What are you doing?” he hissed.
She shrugged. “Just trying to speed things up.”
“Well don’t,” said Eliot as he let her go and made a show of straightening his shirt. “Nate, answer the door. I’ll be right behind you. Parker, sit on the couch and don’t move.”
Parker pretended to go to the couch, but only as long as Eliot was watching her. She knew that as soon as Nate’s hand hit the door knob, Eliot’s attention would be on the door and she’d be free to do as she pleased.
She watched as Nate pulled open the door.
“Mr. Ford, sorry to bother you. I know this is really random, but you lectured my criminology class at Stanford a few years ago and we could really use your help,” said the tall one.
“Well, then you should make an appointment. I’m busy today,” said Nate as he started to close the door.
“Mr. Ford, please, just let us explain. I’m Sam Winchester, this is my brother Dean, and this is Castiel.”
“An angel of the Lord,” said Parker in a hushed tone, slipping past Nate and Eliot. She pulled the door open wide and tried not too look too awestruck. “Come in.”
Parker watched the three men file past, then she skipped over to the couch, grinning victoriously at Hardison. “I told you they were real.”
“They’re just books,” insisted Hardison, pressing his hands to his temples like he was trying to keep his head from exploding. “There must be an explanation. Like they’re actors that you paid.”
“Parker, you want to tell me what’s going on here?” asked Nate in his best I’m-annoyed-because-I-don’t-know-something tone.
Parker gestured the guests over to toward the video monitors and motioned for them to sit down. When Sam saw Hardison, he pulled up short, the color draining from his face.
“You look like you just saw a ghost,” said Sophie sympathetically.
Sam gave a cross between a head shake and shrug, then swallowed hard. “Hey, man, you don’t have a brother, like a twin brother?”
“Nah, bunch of foster brothers and sisters, that’s it,” said Hardison.
Relieved, Sam sat down next to Hardison. Dean, slid smoothly down onto the arm of Sophie’s chair. “How you doing?” he asked, looking down at her with a crooked, slow-burning grin.
“I knew it,” muttered Eliot, crossing his arms and glaring at Dean.
“I’m sorry, do you two know each other?” asked Sam, pointing between the glowering Eliot and the grinning Dean, who only just managed to tear his eyes away from Sophie.
“Huh? No. Never seen the guy before,” said Dean.
“Let me refresh your memory. 1994. A rough Bosnian neighborhood in Chicago.”
“Oh,” said Dean, his grin slipping as recognition dawned in his eyes.
“Yeah, oh,” said Eliot, his glare strong enough that it should have burned a hole right through Dean.
“Look, man, I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. I guess you just look different with all that hair. Like the difference between a Buddhist monk and a werewolf, really.”
Parker giggled as Eliot flushed and then advanced on Dean. “You used me as bait for that Kudlak guy.”
Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t a guy, but thank you for playing.” His insouciant charm was interrupted by Eliot’s grabbing him by the jacket and hauling him out of the chair.
Nate stopped things far too quickly, in Parker’s opinion, by stepping between the men and pushing them apart. Parker was disappointed; after reading all about Dean’s and Sam’s fighting skills, she’d always wondered if they’d be able to best Eliot.
“Now, can someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?” asked Nate.
Sam stood up timidly and partially raised his hand, like he was waiting for the teacher to call on him. “Yes, I can. Dean and I, we need your help. It’s a long story and you’re just going to have to trust us.”
“Nu-huh, no way,” said Eliot, shaking his head. “I vote no, Nate. This guy here has a nasty habit of leaving people in the wind to fight guys that seem damn near unstoppable.”
“A. The undead usually are damn near unstoppable, B. I didn’t leave you hanging, I was right there. And C. You’re still here, so I don’t see what the big deal is,” said Dean.
Eliot opened his mouth to argue, but Nate silenced him with a raised hand. “Sam, you need to tell us more than that. The whole story. And then we’ll decide.”
Parker couldn’t take all of this dancing around and posturing. An exciting case had just fallen into their laps and Nate wanted to have a full, boring briefing. The man could suck the fun right out of a room.
“Sam and Dean, brothers who fight against evil in all its forms. They’re helped by Castiel, an angel of the Lord,” said Parker, gesturing to the man who really did look like God’s accountant. “For a few years, Sam and Dean were just your average hunters, taking down vampires and werewolves, but there was always a bigger plan for them. Partly because a yellow-eyed demon gave Sam demon blood when he was a baby and partly because this is just their destiny.”
Parker paused for a breath and Sophie coughed. “Parker, I know you live in a different world, but I thought you still knew the difference between reality and pretend.”
“She does,” said Castiel, looking at Sophie with keen yet strangely flat eyes. His tone was exactly as Parker had always imagined: the voice of reason.
“Can I continue?” asked Parker impatiently.
Nate nodded, dumbstruck and Parker got back to work. “So, everything was more or less fine, but then Dean went to hell, where he broke after 30 hell years. Castiel fought his way into heaven with a legion of angels to free Dean, because, hello? Destiny.
“Anyway, Dean’s time in hell started a series of events that allowed a demon named Lillith to break the 66 seals required to free Lucifer. Actually, Sam killed Lillith, which broke the final seal, but I don’t blame him because he was just doing what he thought was right. And the angels could’ve stopped things so, I guess it was just supposed to happen this way. Anyway, Lucifer busts out, that starts the Apocalypse and now Dean and Sam are trying to stop it, with Castiel’s help.”
Parker shrugged. “I think that’s mostly everything. Yeah, I left out some details, but I think I hit the important stuff.”
Dean and Sam stared at Parker, identical fish-out-of-water expressions on their faces.
“How did you know all that?” asked Castiel, cooly appraising Parker.
“Yeah, how did you know all that?” asked Sam. “The books stopped being published ages ago.”
“Oh, I had help.” Parker smiled over at Hardison, who hung his head.
“Girl’s just a crazed fan,” mumbled Hardison.
“You hacked into the author’s computer?” asked Nate.
“Wow. You must really be into her, although, dude, I can totally see why,” said Dean as Sam elbowed him in the ribs.
Castiel stood up and raised his hands, like he trying to quiet a room of unruly schoolchildren. “All right, now we all know everything, can we please get down to why we came here. Your group is supposed to be the best there is and we need the best right now.”
“What do you need?” asked Nate, leaning back in his chair, with his arms stretched wide, an invitation to Castiel to continue.
“There’s a special weapon, which is stored in three separate locations. We need your team’s help to obtain the pieces.”
“No way. I don’t like guns. And how do we know how you’re going to use this weapon,” said Eliot, folding his arms and shaking his head.
“It’s not a gun, exactly,” said Castiel.
“Then why’ve we been calling it the holy elephant gun for the last three weeks?” asked Dean, annoyed.
“Eliot, you can trust us. You and the rest of humanity have no other choice, really,” said Castiel, stepping into the hitter’s space. Parker held her breath as Cas stared into his eyes. She watched as Eliot relaxed by degree, finally shaking his head, a little stunned. He let his arms drop to his sides.
“That’s really what could happen?” asked Eliot.
“What? What could happen?” asked Sophie, slightly alarmed.
Castiel ignored her. “I tell the truth, always. So you know how serious I am when I tell you that this is not going to be your usual assignment. It’s going to be dangerous and difficult and some, if not all, of you could die. But truly, we could not do this without your help.”
Parker’s eyes flashed at the challenge and she grinned slyly. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go steal ourselves a holy elephant gun.”
--//--
Parker stood on the top of El Capitan with Castiel, Eliot, and the Winchesters. It was the middle of the night, but the full moon provided enough shimmery silver light to illuminate the details of the stark landscape and cast dark shadows behind them. The plan was for Parker and Castiel to rappel down to a secret cave while Eliot and the Winchesters minded their ropes. The rest of the team was back in the van, running interference with the Park Service.
She handed the angel a harness and stifled a giggle when he looked confused.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” he asked.
“You wear it,” said Parker, gesturing to her own harness, which was nearly impossible to see against her black clothes. “And just a tip, for any future thieving you want to do, wearing black helps.”
“These are my clothes. Why would I wear anything else?” asked Castiel as he tried to fumble his way into the harness.
“That’s going to go a lot better if you take the coat off, sparky,” said Parker.
Dean laughed. “Cas is never without his coat. It’s part of his angelic uniform.”
“It’s what my vessel was wearing,” said Castiel, struggling not to fall over as he stepped into the awkward harness.
Parker impatiently puffed out a breath that mussed her bangs, then stepped up to the angel. Without a word, she pushed away his clumsy hands and expertly pulled the harness up. She made sure it was seated properly and tightened the buckle nearest to his crouch, perhaps forgetting to be gentle, given the way Castiel gasped.
Eliot and Sam winced in sympathy while Dean laughed and slapped Castiel on the back. “Now you know what it’s like to be human.”
“Sorry about that,” said Parker, trying to be more gentle. Her hands were light, pushing the coat off of him nearly before he could register what she was doing. Within seconds, the harness was around his torso and shoulders, buckled and secure.
“I never heard of an angel who couldn’t fly,” said Parker. “Is there something wrong with you?”
“He lost his connection with heaven, and some of his powers, when he decided to help us,” explained Sam.
“What was that like?” asked Parker, not able to imagine willingly giving up supernatural powers.
Castiel opened his mouth to answer, but Eliot, in full grumpy splendor interrupted him. “Are we going to go over the finer points of angels all night or are you two actually going to go steal whatever that thing is so we can get out of here?”
“Thank you,” said Sam, who also looked uncomfortable although Parker couldn’t understand why. The only one who was relaxed, beside her, was Dean.
“We’re going, we’re going,” mumbled Parker, stepping up to the edge. She closed her eyes and took a second to savor the wind in her face. “Ready?” she asked, as she impulsively grabbed Castiel’s hand and jumped, pulling him with her before he even had a chance to respond.
The wind whooshed around them as they dropped, the line playing out to exactly the length Castiel had specified: 490 meters, which was 1,607.6115 feet.
“Parker, I don’t think that’s how rappelling is supposed to work,” said Castiel as they dangled in the air.
“It’s how I do it,” she said with a mischievous grin, which slowly gave way to disappointment as she studied the sheer rock face of the cliff. “Now where’s this cave?”
“Do you have a knife?”
Parker blinked for a second, then reached into her boot and pulled out a small pocket knife. She watched in silent fascination as Castiel opened the knife, cut his arm, and began to fingerpaint symbols onto the granite. When he was done, he handed the knife back, then pressed his thumb into one of the symbols.
For several long seconds, nothing happened. Just as Parker was about ready to say something, the rocks seemed to rearrange themselves as a small gap appeared in the cliff face. The gap widened slowly, by degrees, until finally a rounded cave mouth was clearly visible.
Castiel stepped onto the opening of the cave and took another step forward. Parker shook herself out of her stupor and grabbed his arm. She shook her head, motioning him to stay still.
“Eliot,” she said, hoping that the magical cave wouldn’t interfere with their comms.
“Parker, is everything okay?” Eliot’s voice in her ear was reassuring.
“Yeah, it’s fine. You guys are going to have to play out the ropes some. Castiel just opened up a cave and I don’t know how far we’re need to go in.”
“You have five thousand feet of rope, so you’re not going to be able to go much further than 3000 feet or so.”
“3392.3885,” replied Parker and Castiel in unison, which caused Dean to chuckle, the noise reverberating in Parker’s ear.
“You two are a match made in heaven,” said Dean.
Parker frowned and looked at Castiel. “I’ve never even been to heaven.”
“These days, you’re not missing much,” replied Castiel absently as he scanned the walls of the cave. Even though no moonlight reached the cave, it was magically bright inside, as if they were outside for a gentle summer sunrise.
“What are we looking for?” asked Parker, eager to help.
“I’ll know it when I see it,” said Castiel, running his hands over the rock wall.
Parker sighed, annoyed that he wouldn’t share more information with her than that. She thought working with these guys would be more fun than working with Nate, but except for the jump off El Capitan, it was looking like she was gravely mistaken.
Sighing, Parker dropped onto a small boulder in the middle of the cave. She rested her elbows on her knees and then placed her chin on her fists, watching Castiel methodically search the cave. When that got boring, she stretched out on the ground and looked up at the ceiling.
“That looks like a window,” she said, marveling at a glassy-looking disc in the middle of the cave’s ceiling. “Like a little porthole on a ship.”
“Where?” Castiel looked up and slowly began scanning the ceiling.
“Cold,” said Parker.
“We’ll be done in a minute.”
“No, you’re cold.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not as warm as I am with my jacket on, but I’m not cold.”
“No, you’re looking in the wrong place.... haven’t you ever played the Hot/Cold game before.”
Castiel shook his head and Parker started to explain how it worked, since she and Hardison had whiled away many boring afternoons in the van with the game, but the hacker interrupted.
“Uh, Parker, as amusing as you find that game, you two need to wrap it up. We can’t keep the park rangers from their rounds forever, you know.”
Parker sighed as she picked herself up off the floor and stretched. A slight pout crossed her lips as she pointed out the glass. “No one ever lets me have any fun.”
Castiel walked over and looked up, nodding slightly to himself. He reached up and the disc dropped from the ceiling into his outstretched hand.
“I thought you lost your powers,” said Parker, a little awestruck.
“Not all, just some,” replied Castiel as Parker followed him back to the mouth of the cave. They stepped out into the air, dangling for a few minutes while Castiel made the cave disappear.
“How do we get down? Or do we go up?” asked Castiel.
Parker smiled. “Down is better. Eliot, go.”
She barely had time to enjoy the surprise in the angel’s eyes as they fell through the crisp night air. Okay, maybe every once in a while she was allowed to have a tiny bit of fun.
--//--
Go to Part Two