SPN: Into the Light: The Leader (4/4) [MA - NSFW]

[lt_indigo]

Fandom: Supernatural Title: Into the Light: The Leader Part 3b: Pestilence (part 2) Author: lt_indigo Pairing(s): Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Cas, Bobby/Karen Warning(s): Explicit sexual content. Canon-typical violence & gore. Word count: 8,419 this part Written for: sabrielbigbang 2015-16
Back to Part 1

Back to Part 3a

They grabbed breakfast from a McDonald’s drive-thru early in the morning and headed back out on the road before seven. The angels headed back to California, and promised to meet them there later on. As they headed into Manti-La Sal National Forest, Sam realised that Dean was shifting surreptitiously in his seat, trying to find a comfortable spot. It looked like Cas had made good on his promise last night, and Sam knew that feeling well; in fact, he loved that feeling, but it wasn’t fun when facing a twelve hour drive. Some vindictive part of Sam thought it served Dean right for being so adamant about driving to California when they could have flown there in a second, with the car in tow. He thought about offering to drive, but he wasn’t sure how Dean would take that. Dean was funny about things that might, to some, make him seem less than masculine. Sam thought it was bullshit, personally; he had never once questioned his masculinity in time he had been with Gabriel. So he held his tongue until they stopped ‘for coffee’ only an hour later. As Dean headed into the Gas n Sip, walking gingerly, Sam located the lidocaine cream he kept in his duffel for just such emergencies. He threw it unceremoniously at Dean as the store clerk was pouring the coffee. Dean caught it easily, training kicking in, and looked at the label with a frown. Sam jerked his head in the direction of the bathrooms and Dean headed off.

They drank their coffees at the side of the car, slouching against it. Sam had insisted that he wanted to take in the scenery before they hit the desert, but they both knew it was to save Dean’s ass while the lidocaine was taking effect. And by the end of the cup, Dean was looking much more like himself and was in the driver’s seat, bitching at Sam to hurry his sorry ass up so they could get back on the road. Sam smiled to himself as he crushed his cup and tossed it into the trash.

It was an easier journey to their next stop, with Dean cheerfully singing along to his cassettes. Sam continued to look for other leads, but he was convinced that they were on the right track now, and it was just a matter of time before they tracked Pestilence down in Niland and put the brakes on this whole Apocalypse thing once and for all.

“Why all these days between outbreaks?” he mused aloud eventually, as they turned south on the I-15, looking at the dates. This had actually been going since the day Lucifer broke free back in April but, as just about everyone had noted, it was so low-key it hadn’t caught anyone’s attention as being supernatural, and no-one had thought much of it except the CDC. It was the time scale that was bothering Sam: why not just a day or so? What was Pestilence doing in the days (and in a couple of cases, a week or more) where he wasn’t causing minor mayhem?

Dean shrugged, eyes still on the road. “That’s bugging me: this guy’s slippery. He’s been under the radar for ages; could have been up to anything. Ask him when we find him: the other two loved showing off.”

“Death didn’t,” Sam pointed out. “He was… he helped us.”

“Yeah, and Gabriel said Death was weird.”

That was true, actually, which was odd in itself because Death had been almost normal compared to the other two, who had revelled gleefully in their games. Maybe that was why Gabriel considered Death weird. Although, by staying so far under the radar, it was looking like Pestilence was more like Death than his other two brothers, which didn’t inspire confidence in Sam that this would be an easy job. He should have known when Death made it too easy for them.

“You’re overthinking it, man,” Dean said, breaking into his thoughts. “We’ll nail the sucker, just like War and Famine, and be eating Karen’s cooking again before we know it. Then we can work out what else he’s been up to, but I’d put a hundred on his spells breaking, just like War’s and Famine’s, as soon as we gank the sucker.”

Dean was probably right - the Horsemen’s magic, whatever it was, had worn off immediately after they were defeated. Whatever else Pestilence was up to would blow over. Probably. But… it wasn’t just influence with him, was it? He was unleashing actual diseases that scientists were able to diagnose and test. This was a real thing. What if he had a massive stockpile of Croatoan virus sitting somewhere, just ready to go?

They were over the border into Nevada by the time they stopped to eat. The diner in Mesquite was cosy and the waitress flirted with them both. A few months back, Dean would have flirted back without hesitation; now he barely even noticed her attention. His attention was on his phone, texting Cas and telling him they were okay, where they were, and other stuff Sam probably didn’t want to know about. But the food was pretty good - not a patch on Karen’s, but they had definitely been in worse diners - and the coffee considerably better than most, to the point Sam went back out to the car and got her to fill the thermos for the last leg of their trip.

Sam offered to drive, and Dean surprised him by saying yes. Maybe that was because he was uncomfortable again, but he didn't seem as bad as before.

Sam hated desert diving; it was all boring, flat and arid landscapes with the only features being the occasional cactus or a sign marking the miles left to Las Vegas. It gave him too long to dwell on whatever Pestilence was up to, which wasn't really a good thing.

For his part, Dean dozed off just past Vegas. That was deeply annoying that Dean could do that - that Dean's mind was so calm that he could turn off so easily. So Sam called Cas, because Cas would take his concerns seriously.

"I agree that it seems likely that Pestilence will have been doing other things, but do you believe that we will not find him here in Niland?"

"No," Sam said quickly. "I definitely think he'll show sometime soon. I just want to know what he's up to in the meantime. I mean, it can't be good."

"Hey! You talking to Cas and not me?"

There were sounds of a scuffle in the background, like Cas was trying to grab the phone back from Gabriel. And it wasn't as if Gabriel sounded genuinely hurt.

"You keep saying he's the strategist," Sam said, trying his best to be annoyed with Gabriel for interrupting them and making a nuisance of himself, but he couldn't. Just the sound of Gabriel's voice reminded him of how warm and loved he had felt last night, and it brought a smile to his face.

"Why? What are you strategising?" Gabriel was grinning, Sam could tell. "Are you asking for pointers in a prank war against Dean, because you're asking the wrong angel."

"Gabriel, you know very well we were discussing Pestilence." Cas was muffled, but his pissy tone came through perfectly.

"Jeez, Cas, have I taught you nothing? Humour, bro. Lightens the mood, boosts morale."

"It will not turn out to be so humorous if Sam is correct," Cas pointed out. "Please return my phone and allow us to conclude our conversation. If Sam wishes to speak with you afterwards, I am sure he is capable of calling you."

"Touchy. Fine. Sammy, be quick about being boring with Cas, will you? I'm bored, Pestilence ain't here, and Cas scowls every time I so much as look at the paedo teacher who needs his dick removing and his hard drive sending to the local cops."

"Can't you keep Cas happy and just send the hard drive?" Sam suggested, and wondered when exactly he had stopped being bothered by Gabriel's more Pagan tendencies. He knew he probably should be worried about Gabriel’s desire to maim someone, but couldn’t find it within himself to summon up the appropriate disdain.

"Fiiiiiine," Gabriel said with a long-suffering sigh. "Here, talk to Cas while I arrange for someone to find this creep's laptop. I'll call you when he's in jail."

"Thank you. Hello Sam."

"Hey Cas."

There was the sound of displaced air in the background, suggesting that Gabriel was off playing at being Loki for a while.

"Would you suggest that we look elsewhere for Pestilence in the meantime?"

"Nah. I'm sure it can wait." Gabriel had kind of put his mind at rest a little - if he had time to be off handing a creep his just desserts, then they had time to sort this mess out. "What are you up to down there?"

"We have been posing as the CDC, as you suggested, checking the local hospital and clinics, making sure they are prepared should the disease strike the town."

"How's that going?"

"The doctors seem remarkably surprised that we are being so proactive," Cas said dryly. "I get the feeling that your previous government was not particularly proficient in prophylaxis"

Sam choked and worked his head around that before snorting. "Not that word, Cas: that doesn't mean that any more."

"The doctors have used it in exactly that context," Cas replied, sounding confused.

"Doctors, maybe," Sam allowed, grinning now, "but Joe Regulars only know that it means contraception."

"Oh. I see. Should we continue? Gabriel is supplying them with antiviral drugs. The doctors seem pleased."

"Yeah, I'm sure they are. Yeah, go right ahead. It pays to be prepared, especially if Pestilence is expecting us to be waiting for him - the flu strain might not be as mild this time."

"That is the conclusion we reached too," Cas said. "Gabriel would rather have provided a vaccine, but he feared questions would be asked about its provenance."

"Yeah, they would." Sam sighed: he wished that Gabriel could have done what he wanted, but he knew that the antivirals were a better choice right now. "Thanks for this - it's so much more than we could have done on our own."

"I am glad to help, Sam, but I will be relieved when you arrive - you and Dean are better at human interaction than I am. Gabriel keeps telling people I have transferred recently from the labs"

Sam laughed, then felt bad and tried to smother it. It was a brilliant excuse, really, and would only ever work for CDC pretexts. He remembered Dean telling him about the disaster that had been Cas' first outing as an FBI agent, which made a lot of sense given Cas' lack of understanding of basic human interaction. At least Cas was aware of his limitations, and it was as well that Dean didn't care.

"Sounds like there'll be nothing to do except get swine flu by the time we get there," he replied, still chuckling.

"Gabriel would not allow that."

"No, but it would be a great clue that Pestilence was in town."

“It is still not a preferable solution.”

“Agreed. Anyway, we’ll see you in a few hours: we’re just outside Needles, near the Arizona border, so we’re about three hours away.”

“I look forward to it. Gabriel has found some rooms that he deems to be satisfactory in Brawley, twenty miles south of Niland. I will text you the address.”

“Great. We’ll go straight there, since it’ll be too late to work by the time we arrive. See you soon.”

“Farewell, Sam.”

The line cut off, but that was okay - Sam had gotten a ‘goodbye’, which was more than Cas used to do. He negotiated the split in the road between the I-40 and Highway 95, by which time Cas had managed get the address to him. Sam pulled over so that he could look it up on the maps application on his phone, and actually found a better route to take than the one they had planned - rather than having to zig-zag to get to the ambitiously named Salton Sea, he could turn south off the I-10 almost as soon as he joined it, and take CA-78 directly to Brawley. It would probably shave half an hour off the journey time.

The road was deserted and he decided to take a leak before heading to Brawley. Dean picked that moment to stir, and open the door to see what was going on.

“Sam? Dude, seriously?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t have to pee,” Sam said without turning. “We’ve been on the road three hours.”

Dean said nothing, and got out when Sam got back in. Sam smiled smugly as Dean relieved himself before coming round to Sam’s door. Sam sighed and slid over to where Dean had been sleeping, relinquishing the driver’s seat to Dean once more. He shared the update on their destination with Dean once they were back on the move. He thought it might make Dean antsy, to be losing a whole extra day rather than pretending to be federal agents at weird times of the night and drawing attention to themselves by keeping such peculiar hours. It wasn’t like they were pretexting as FBI on this one, after all. But Dean actually seemed eager to reach the motel or, more likely, eager to see Cas again. With Dean’s generally heavy foot spurred on further by his enthusiasm they made it to Brawley in just over two hours and Sam navigated them to the motel using his phone’s map function.

It was impressive, the hotel Gabriel had booked them into. No crummy motel this time; they had a proper hotel with stars and room service and little chocolates on the pillows (or, Gabriel assured him there had been chocolates on the pillows earlier in the day). Sam resisted the urge to sink onto the hugely inviting (and just huge) bed with its fluffy white comforter, but didn’t resist Gabriel’s embrace. Even with the interlude last night, Sam had spent two solid days on the road, and it was surprisingly tiring and all he really wanted to do was curl up with Gabriel against his back, holding him tightly, but it was too early and he was kind of hungry and he could have a nap for an hour or so, couldn’t he?

“Of course you can,” Gabriel said gently. “Come on, kid: you’re no good to me sleepy. We’ve got a reservation at seven, so there’s loads of time for you to rest.”

Sam nodded sleepily and let Gabriel pull him towards the bed. Gabriel turned him and sat him down, undressed him with sure, gentle hands, then guided him under the covers. Within moments, he was cocooned in fluffy down and smooth cotton and had a toasty angel pressing a line of warmth along his back.

.oOo.

Sam felt refreshed when Gabriel woke him an hour later, and he dressed in his FBI slacks (which he was sure had been el-cheapo Target pants when he had last seen them) and his favourite blue shirt, the one he was pretty sure he had left behind in Sioux Falls (or wherever Gabriel’s interdimensional apartment actually was). It was definitely worth it for the whistle of approval he got from Gabriel.

They joined Dean and Cas in the lobby- Dean scrubbed up in a dark green shirt, and Cas had ditched the tie for a vest that really emphasised his slim figure. Sam suspected Gabriel’s hand in both outfits.

Gabriel flew them all to the restaurant, which turned out to be a pretty nice steakhouse. Dean looked impressed as he took in the menu. Cas looked baffled, probably because he had never had such a staggering array of sides and sauces to smother on his meat, and that was more than likely down to his propensity to eat takeout burgers as his sole source of protein when they were away from Bobby’s place. Somewhat predictably he copied Dean when it came to placing their orders, but less predictably, Dean chose something he thought Cas would enjoy rather than Sam knew he would usually pick for himself: Dean would never pick to have peppercorn sauce, or mushrooms. Gabriel, on the other hand, went completely to town and ordered every side on the menu - far more than they would probably manage - just so that Cas would be able to try a little of everything.

Even Dean ended up trying some of the vegetables that arrived, and was really bad at hiding just how much he enjoyed the creamed cabbage (which Cas also enjoyed, judging by the sheer volume of it he consumed). Sam had ordered a salad with his steak, but ended up indulging in some of the fries and potatoes Gabriel had ordered too, as well as stealing some of the cabbage while Cas wasn’t looking.

Sam wasn’t the least bit surprised to find that the place also did great desserts, given that Gabriel had organised it. In capitulation, he ordered a piece of strawberry cheesecake that turned out to be delicious. Cas and Dean both had apple pie, and Gabriel ordered the sickliest looking piece of chocolate cake Sam had ever seen. He looked completely sinful eating it, sliding each morsel from the fork slowly, licking crumbs with a flick of pink tongue that was sending Sam’s pulse racing and his pants were starting to feel tight. He just hoped his loose button-down would cover anything when he stood up. And there was a gleam in Gabriel’s eyes, a certain fluffing of his feathers that told Sam the angel knew damn well what he was doing, and was enjoying every second of torturing Sam.

He was so very, very glad when they decided not to hang around after the meal, just to head back to their respective rooms and get ‘a good night’s sleep’ before embarking on locating Pestilence the next day.

Gabriel smirked openly the second they were back at the hotel, landing in their room in the blink of an eye. “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Anyone would think you liked what you saw back there.”

Gabriel had him pinned to the wall, a hand firmly cupping his balls, palm pressed against his dick. He let out a little moan.

“Look at you, big boy: all hard for me before I even touched you. I bet you were imagining yourself in the fork’s place earlier, weren’t you?”

Sam gulped. “Yes,” he admitted shakily.

“Talk to me, Sammy: what do you want from me?”

What didn’t he want? Gabriel’s show had been so graphic back at the restaurant that pretty much anything would do right now. But… that clever tongue…

“Suck me. Please?”

Gabriel looked amused at the effort that took. “Your wish is my command,” he purred.

.oOo.

The breakfast laid on by the hotel was kind of disappointing, if truth be told: Sam found himself unexpectedly homesick for Karen’s cooking. It was funny how much someone could become part of your life in such a short time, but that was exactly what had happened with Karen. He was keen to get back to Sioux Falls sooner rather than later. Of course, getting back to Bobby’s would mean that Pestilence was no longer a threat to anyone, which could be any day now. There had been no more than two weeks between each outbreak, and the one in Ocotillo had been four days ago now, so it really was soon. Pestilence would have to show within the next week or so, if Sam’s theory was right. Of course, within a week, Dean would be climbing the walls and insisting that Sam was wrong, so they potentially had that to look forward to too.

They got on the road early and hit the clinics of Niland, ‘just checking in’. From what Sam could see, Gabriel had flirted with everyone in the two days he had been here, and was now getting either amused smiles or outright giggling from the receptionists as he leaned on their counters. Cas looked as awkward as Sam had expected, but he made it work for him; he looked exasperated with Gabriel, like he disapproved of his overly friendly ways, even as he was coolly analysing about a thousand probabilities from the facts and figures they had. He had a folio file. Gabriel was that into this, Cas had a folio file he could make notes in. Sam and Dean got introduced too, as new faces they might see around the area. The clinics here were relaxed and friendly, and clearly happy that the CDC were there. Sam suspected that it might be a different story in somewhere like Ocotillo.

Dean floated the suggestion that maybe they should widen their search to the surrounding towns, so they ended up heading thirty minutes up to the north end of the Salton Sea, to a town appropriately named North Shore. On the way, they stopped at the side of the road, where it ran closest to the lake, for a magically-produced lunch. As they finished up, Sam’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the display before picking up.

“Bobby? You okay?”

“It’s Karen. I think I might have something for you.”

“About Pestilence?” He would take any lead they could get on the slippery little bastard.

“No.” She sounded a little hesitant. “No, your spell so you can see your angel’s wings. I’m… I’m texting you something. I can do that while I’m talking to you, can’t I?”

Sam gave a little chuckle. “Yeah, you can. You can switch me onto speaker, or I’ll hang on. You okay doing that?”

The line gained that tell-tale echo that told Sam it was now on speaker, so Karen must have figured that out at least. “Yes, I think so. At least the key layout hasn’t changed in the last thirty years.”

Sam could feel himself smiling fondly. “You just missed multi-tap texting, and predictive text. That just used the ten number keys. Bobby replaced his phone a few weeks back.”

He could hear her tapping away at Bobby’s cell. “So much has changed since I died. I mean, where even are you?”

“We’re, uh, sitting at the side of Highway 111, just outside of Bertram, grabbing a bite.” He rubbed at the back of his neck somewhat sheepishly as he realised how that must sound to Karen, who hadn’t even seen a cordless phone before unceremoniously finding herself in 2010. “Yeah, I guess cell technology must seem pretty amazing. We’ve kind of got used to it. You managing okay?”

“Oh, sure.” She sounded a little frustrated, which made Sam think that maybe she wasn’t doing as well as she made out. “I’m getting the hang of it. See?”

His phone chirped, and he switched it to speaker while he read the message. He swallowed a couple of times, his mouth suddenly dry, and held it out to Gabriel.

“Well blow me down and call me Larry!” Gabriel exclaimed, his wings doing funny things behind his back; kind of half-fluffed up, but twitching between tight and nervous and loose and excited. “Karen, honey, where did you find this?”

“She didn’t,” Bobby growled, butting in, and Sam couldn’t work out whether he was annoyed or proud. “She pieced it together from the notes you left about the original spell, and the blood thing, and a few other spells.”

Okay, mostly proud then, with maybe a hint of worry.

“Why? It look legit to you?”

“It looks great! You’ve got a flair for this, sugar pie. What do you make of it, Cassie? You’re better at spellwork than me: I just reshape reality.”

He handed the phone over and Cas squinted at the screen. “Yes,” he said slowly. “I believe this would work. Does it have to be injected under the skin, or will simple absorption suffice?”

There was some hesitation at the other end. “It would probably be stronger and more permanent if it was injected,” Karen said finally, “but even if it was painted on in a carrier - like a henna tattoo - it would still work for a few weeks, and be strong enough for Sam to see solid images. Dean too, if you and he want to.”

Sam looked over to Dean: his expression had that frozen quality that Sam knew from long experience meant he really, really wanted it, but was too afraid to ask. Probably because he didn’t feel like he deserved it, no matter what Cas said on the matter, no matter how consistently or enthusiastically Cas showed Dean that he was loved no matter what he thought about himself.

Cas was giving Dean a truly exasperated look; the one he had practically trademarked by now, the ‘you are an idiot but I adore you anyway’ look. Cas would do the spell for Dean, whether Dean objected or not.

“Karen, honey, do you want us to wait until we get back before we do this? See if your baby works?”

There was a soft laugh at the other end of the phone. “Oh, heck no; I wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of sending it if I wanted that. And it’s not like I can see for myself if it works, now, can I? You boys go right ahead.”

Sam adored Karen even more for that. Not for the first time in the last couple of weeks, he wondered what kind of person Bobby had been before she died, before he had found out the truth about their world. And he wondered what kind of hunter Karen was going to become, because if she was writing her own spells there was only really two ways for her to go, and ‘witch’ was not acceptable. Sam thought she might be a bit like him - more ‘shades of grey’ than ‘black and white’, simply because she had so much kindness in her heart she was never going to be able to kill something just because it was a vampire or a kitsune, or like that Jesse kid: Jesse and Lenore and Amy were all good people, just not quite human and that wasn’t their fault.

“We’ll let you know, then,” Gabriel said with a broad smile that touched his eyes. “Bobby, you look after that treasure you have there.”

“Yeah, I will.” Bobby’s usual gruffness was tempered by a soft note in his voice. Maybe it was a bit of that young man Bobby had been shining through, or maybe it was just that old man Bobby still couldn’t quite believe his luck. Whatever it was, it was nice to hear.

“Thanks, Karen,” Sam said to the phone.

“Yes, thank you.” Cas was still so formal, but there was something soft in his face that Sam wished Karen could see.

Dean blinked. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

There was another laugh. “Just let me know what happens. Good luck.”

The phone went dark in Castiel’s hand, leaving them in thoughtful quiet for a few moments.

“Well,” Gabriel said, cheerfully and briskly breaking their silence, “looks like we’ve got some other things to find. Cas, you and Dean want to take the spell ingredients?”

Cas looked immediately uncomfortable. “I would find it easier on my own.”

It looked like it pained him to admit that, and Sam wondered what was going on with Cas all of a sudden: he was seeming less and less sure of his abilities, looking to Gabriel for reassurance a lot more. Now he really thought about it, Cas had been splitting book stacks back when they were clearing the desk at Bobby’s when he should have been able to lift the whole lot in one go, and Cas was noticeably slower than Gabriel to arrive lately. Okay, so theoretically, Gabriel was supposed to be the fastest angel anyway, but there had never really been a difference that Sam could see in their flight speed. Now, though… And he didn’t want to take a passenger any more? There was only one conclusion Sam could reach - that Cas was getting to the end of his grace. And Sam should feel bad for Cas, because it must be terrifying for him, but it meant that he and Dean would get to share their lives together whereas Gabriel was going to be left alone when Sam died, and that was a thought that Sam never really liked having.

On the other hand, Dean looked alarmed and wounded. He didn’t even like flying, but to have Cas refuse to take him rather than offering was odd. Surely Dean would reach the same conclusion as Sam? He wasn’t stupid, after all. Cas leaned over and kissed Dean before disappearing.

Dean’s shoulders slumped, looking resigned. “He’s getting worse, isn’t he?”

Gabriel nodded, looking at the rug; the faint, sleek outlines of his wings were pulled tightly against his back. “Yeah. I’m doing what I can, but…”

“How long?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Hard to say. Weeks, maybe, if he doesn’t do anything stupid, if he keeps eating and sleeping.” He did look up at that point, his eyes dark, conflicted and looking right at Dean. “I’m counting on you to make sure he looks after that vessel of his, Dean.”

Dean gave a solemn nod. Gabriel normally irritated the hell out of Dean, but on this they seemed to be in complete understanding. Given that it was about Cas’ continued health, that was hardly a surprise.

.oOo.

North Shore was just down the road from Indio, one of the cities that had already been hit. The doctors there were a little more frazzled, even though they hadn’t had a reported case yet. Sam was almost glad of that, because dealing with stressed people demanded more concentration which prevented Sam from being too distracted by the idea that by tonight he might be able to see Gabriel’s wings properly and permanently instead of the temporary and washed-out vision he got from contact with Gabriel’s blood.

Between them, they got some more of Gabriel’s antivirals for the hospital, just in case they were wrong, just in case the infection spread beyond Indio. The doctors seemed grateful for that at least. Cards and drugs were left behind, and they headed to each town around the northern shore, stopping off at clinics and dropping off more of Gabriel’s magical flu pills, a new crate of which appeared next to him in the back seat every time they stopped.

They hit Brawley last, before heading back to the hotel where Cas was waiting for them with his haul. He was dutifully crushing the lapis lazuli when they walked his and Dean’s room (with his bare hands, which put paid to fears Dean and Gabriel had been expressing earlier), ready to start mixing.

He had pulled the table out from the wall into the middle of the room, where they could all gather round, and on it were laid the spell ingredients: lilies and daisies for purity, Heaven, and love; the lapis lazuli also representing Heaven and Revelation (the angelic kind rather than the prophecies of the Apocalypse), and was apparently a common ingredient in spells designed to manifest the truth (according to Cas); angelica root to add strength to both the spell and to Sam and Dean (Gabriel snorted at it and rolled his eyes, then said it was also supposed to ward off pestilence); holy water and holy oil; crushed henna leaves to act as a carrier, as Karen had suggested; and two empty bowls.

“Karen has suggested that the spell should be personalised,” Cas said. “Dean’s spell should be made with my blood and feather; Sam’s with yours, Gabriel.”

Dean hadn’t actually seen the ingredients list before, and rolled his eyes. “Blood, man? Really? What is it with spells and blood?”

“Power,” Gabriel said, his expression cheerful enough, but Sam could see something dark behind his eyes and in the tightness of his wings. “There’s a lot of power in blood. I’d have thought Sam’s whole demon blood thing would have taught you that. And the Pagans’ blood sacrifices.”

Dean shuddered, and Cas looked hurt. Sam could understand why: it looked like Dean didn’t want this.”

“Dean, we’ve done spells with blood before. The spell last time had Gabriel’s blood in it. We know it works, and it’s safe.”

There was a sigh. “Yeah, I know,” Dean growled. “But… how much would it take? I mean, there was a fuck-ton in the spell last time. I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Gabriel gave a snort of laughter. “I was planning on throwing it all over you last time,” he said gleefully. “There needed to be a lot, and even then it was only about half a pint. This is going to be a tiny little temporary tattoo. It won’t be any more than you’ve used in your own spells.”

“Okay.” Dean stepped up to the table, right next to Cas, and draped his arm around Cas’ waist. “Let’s do this.”

The first thing they needed to do was to complete their components list - the spell called for the ashes of an angel feather instead of a whole feather like Gabriel had used last time (apparently their power infuses into the spell), except that angel feathers don’t really burn except in holy fire. Sam volunteered to do that, since the fire wouldn’t do the same kind of damage to him as it would to Cas or Gabriel. They set up a tiny dish filled with holy oil, Cas plucked a feather from Gabriel’s right wing (Gabriel cringed and squirmed and was a complete baby about it, but then again, that feather root was a hell of a lot thicker than a hair, and was that a spot of blood on it?), and Sam held the golden plume out over the flame while the angels cringed away until it caught. Once alight, he dropped it into one of the two silver bowls Cas had put out for the spell. They repeated it with one of Cas’ silver feathers (Cas was more stoic through the plucking process), and once the feathers burned out, they ground the ash together with the lapis, the plants, and each angel added a few drops of his blood simply by touching his palm to the side of the bowl. Then the henna and holy water were added to turn it into a paste, which Gabriel then transferred into tiny little bags that apparently were commonly used for piping henna.

“Come on, Sammy; let’s get you inked up, see if this takes.”

He grabbed Sam and they were suddenly in their own room.

“Strip off, kid: I know exactly where this is going.”

Sam reached for the button on his slacks without thinking. As soon as his brain clicked in he paused, with his pants halfway off. “You aren’t painting that stuff on my dick, are you?”

Gabriel grinned. “Nah. Nice thought though: very possessive, very Pagan. I was thinking just here.”

He trailed his fingers across a particularly sensitive spot just inside the valley of Sam’s right hip.

“That means only I get to see it, and it’s right on that spot that makes you squirm.”

Sam chuckled and reclined on the bed, tugging his shirt up to expose the hip Gabriel was intent on tattooing. The henna was surprisingly cold when it went on, and Sam had to try not to squirm; he didn’t want to ruin Gabriel’s handiwork, particularly since he was so steady-handed. After a couple of minutes, the cold faded and it started to get warmer and hotter. Sam grit his teeth; he had endured much worse during his life. When Gabriel placed one final line, the symbol flashed once with a bright white light that looked an awful lot like grace, and the symbol burned like fire, like it was embedding itself into the very core of his being.

“Huh. Didn’t expect that,” Gabriel commented, touching Sam’s skin just to the side of the tattoo reverently. “You okay there, Sambo?”

“Sure,” Sam ground out.

“Sam?” Gabriel sounded concerned now, and there was a cool hand cupping his cheek. “Sammy, open your eyes, cupcake.”

Sam did, blinking rapidly. Gabriel’s worried face hovered about a foot from his own, framed by the most magnificent golden wings; so solid and real-looking that Sam felt he should be able to reach out and touch the sleek, shining feathers. He unclenched a hand from where it had been fisted in the sheets and reached up, over Gabriel’s shoulder, fingers curling back at the very last moment, uncertain, unsure if he was allowed, of how Gabriel would react if they were corporeal enough to touch now, of how disappointed he would be if they still weren’t there.

Gabriel turned his head, leaning into the touch like it had always been meant for his face. His eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment before he spoke.

“Go ahead, kid. I want to know too.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Sam reached out once more. His eyes widened as his fingertips brushed up against the cool, smooth surface of the feathers. Real, tangible feathers.

“Holy crap.”

“Don’t do much of that,” Gabriel replied, grinning like the maniac he was. “Talk to Cas.”

“Smart ass,” Sam said fondly, stroking carefully across the stiff but silken feathers.

“Always. They won’t break, you know.”

“It’s kind of unreal.”

“Well, yeah,” Gabriel pointed out. “They’re not exactly on the same dimension as us. Doesn’t mean they’re not real to me, though.”

“They’re the most real thing about you, Gabriel. That’s why I wanted to do this in the first place.”

He slid his fingers experimentally under a row of feathers and cool silk suddenly became hot and fuzzy, and Gabriel’s eyes fluttered closed. His wing pushed forward, shoving Sam’s hand further under the feathers, into what must be down and that heat that always radiated from Gabriel’s skin like there he was a little furnace. But as he stroked carefully along the row (and they were in rows; all the feathers lay neatly in row after row of shining gold perfection), he met not only skin but something less tangible too, with a familiar tingle to it.

“Grace?”

Gabriel snorted. “What else did you expect, Sam?”

He honestly didn’t know how to answer that. He had half-expected the wings to just be like extensions of Gabriel’s vessel; be all human(ish) and touchable and warm like Gabriel was. Gabriel didn’t feel particularly special - different, inhuman - until they were making love. He hadn’t, for some reason, expected to be able to touch Gabriel’s grace so easily. But he should have done, he realised: this was what Cas and Gabriel did all the time, something previously outside of his and Dean’s ability to see. Gabriel had even shown him a shadow of them doing just that, back when they were hunting Famine.

Gabriel flopped himself down on the bed and spread his wing over Sam protectively. “That stuff’s got to stay on your skin as long as possible, so what do you say we order the biggest pizza in the state and put on a movie or three?”

Sam groaned. They had all been so desperate to get the spell done that Sam hadn’t really thought about the logistics of painting a dye like henna onto the skin: of course it would take time to settle and take properly. It wasn’t going into his body like a tattoo did; this was just being absorbed by his skin. At least it wasn’t burning any more.

“Sure,” he agreed readily. “What were you thinking?”

.oOo.

Gabriel liked Disney movies. Of course he did: they were nice and simple - bad guys were bad, good guys were good, and the bad guys always got what was coming to them. And Sam had to admit that he was actually enjoying the plots and the cheery songs too. He wasn’t so sure about the cheerful, helpful genie - that seemed to be misleading kids whereas it would be good to teach them that the djinn were to be avoided at all costs - but he really did like the twist in the plot of Beauty and the Beast - that not everything was black and white; that the Beast could change, given the chance, and be kind and gentle, whereas the town’s hero was actually twisted and evil inside.

“Dean never finds out we watched these,” Sam commented as Belle and the Beast waltzed around the ballroom.

“Are you kidding? One: I value his pranking potential too much to lose what little respect he has for me; two: Cas is making him watch the Star Wars movies.”

“Dean loves Star Wars.”

“Phantom Menace?”

Sam laughed. Because no, Dean hated the ‘travesty’ that was The Phantom Menace. And Attack of the Clones. And Revenge of the Sith only had a few scenes that redeemed it.

“Cas insists that he wants to see the story from the beginning, not halfway through.”

“Oh, poor Dean.”

“Wait until Cas starts banging on about religious parallels, and Obi-Wan representing Michael, and the little turd being Lucifer.”

“Isn’t Anakin more like Jesus?”

“Seriously? The life you live and that’s what you’re getting? He’s more like that cambion kid you met. Bible-Jesus never went bad like Anakin.”

“Jesse didn’t go bad either. He’s a good kid.”

Gabriel shrugged. “We’ll see. He’s doing okay so far, but who knows what’ll happen when he’s all grown up and marrying Natalie Portman.”

Sam side-eyed him. “I’d say that’s doubtful, but with him? Maybe he could marry Natalie Portman. You could, if you wanted.”

Gabriel looked wounded, but his covert feathers (the little sleek ones at the tops of his wings) were all fluffed up in amusement. “What are you saying, Sammy? Do you not want me? Or do you want to be Natalie Portman?”

Sam sat up and looked down at the reclined archangel. “Hell no. You’re not pulling that trick again.”

.oOo.

Gabriel improved on the buffet breakfast vastly, and by the time Dean and Cas wandered in, Sam was munching happily through some lovely lean bacon and fluffy eggs that weren’t so overdone they were solidified and had their water seeping pathetically from them. Sam was pleasantly surprised to see that he could also see Cas’ wings clearly, although something told him he probably wouldn’t be able to - and definitely shouldn’t - touch them. Dean had said a long time ago they were silver, and the feather Sam had burned yesterday certainly confirmed that, but that one feather hadn’t done justice to the full effect: where Gabriel’s wings shone like sunlight, Cas’ were more like moonlight, cool and gentle and absolutely suited him and his vessel down to the ground. They weren’t in as good condition as Gabriel’s, probably because of the issue of him Falling, but each feather was groomed immaculately. In that respect, they were actually looking better than Gabriel’s, and Sam wondered if Dean had something to do with that: he was better at looking after people than Sam was; better at just doing things because they needed doing. Sam hadn’t even realised that Gabriel was looking scruffy until he had Cas as a comparison.

The plan for the day had been to hit all the towns along the south shore of the lake after checking in at Niland, but they never got any further than Niland itself. When they reached the clinic, Gabriel tensed immediately and his wings pulled in so tightly they actually disappeared into his vessel.

“That’s weird,” Dean commented, eyeing Gabriel’s suddenly bare back. “I mean, that can’t be comfortable.”

“Of course it’s not, genius,” Gabriel snapped.

“You can bicker later,” Cas pointed out testily. “We have a job to do here.”

Ten words from Castiel, and they were both focussed back on the presence that was making Cas’ feathers stand on end like he had been hit by lightning. His hand was twitching like he wanted to have his blade in it, but he hadn’t drawn it just yet. That was probably a good thing since it was likely there would be civilians at the clinic, even this early in the morning. Going in with guns blazing (so to speak) was the best way to cause a panic.

Stepping in, the receptionist, Suzie, caught their eyes almost right away.

“Hey, looks like you were right,” she said, keeping her voice discrete. “We might have our first case: he’s in with the doc right now. Just as well you got us all that Tamiflu, right?”

Sam glanced at the others, and could see they were all on the same wavelength as him: he would put money on the ‘first case’ - Niland’s patient zero - being Pestilence himself.

“You’ve been taking it, right, Suze?” Gabriel asked, keeping his voice light but there was a definite undertone of concern there.

Suzie shrugged. “I know you said to, but I didn’t want to waste it in case we didn’t see it for weeks.”

Gabriel sighed and wagged a finger at her. “You’re going to start now though, aren’t you?”

She gave him a shy, chastised little smile. “Course. I’m guessing you want to see the patient? He’s in with Roger, in room two.”

Dean was off down the corridor before anyone else could stop him. He burst into the consulting room without even knocking, startling the doctor.

“What the…?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” the patient, who appeared to be a man in his fifties but Sam had absolutely no doubt was anything but. Even his skin was crawling in the man’s presence; he felt dirty, and that he would never be clean again no matter how much he scrubbed himself in the shower. Sam couldn’t imagine how he felt to the angels.

“I’ve been expecting these gentlemen,” Pestilence purred. “Sam and Dean Winchester. You took your time tracking me down. And you’ve brought some friends too.”

Sam’s skin was burning. Sweat beaded from every pore. He coughed and blood splashed across his palm, shockingly bright against pale, clammy skin. At Sam’s side, Dean groaned: he looked as bad as Sam felt. Maybe they both needed a good lie down and some of Dean’s tomato and rice soup? That… that sounded good. The world span and Sam sat down heavily on the floor. Somewhere, the doctor slumped over his desk.

He quirked his head at Cas and Gabriel, as if trying to work them out. “A Pagan and an angel Fallen so far anything I could do would pale in comparison? I mean…”

He was on his feet and, through blurry eyes, Sam could see him stroking a hand down Castiel’s face.

“…you’re barely even an angel any more.”

Cas doubled over in pain, coughing wetly. Gabriel moved to help, but he wasn’t as quick as usual, hampered by his disguise: without the full power of his grace, he seemed to be weakening under Pestilence’s influence - his vessel looked pale and sweaty just like the rest of them. Fortunately for them, Cas was still more than fast enough: he grabbed Pestilence as he fell, pulling his hand to the floor.

“I’m angel enough for this,” Cas spat as he forced his angel blade through the bones in Pestilence’s hand, severing multiple fingers including the all-important ring.

Pestilence howled in pain as Cas scrabbled for the ring, his fingers slipping in the blood. Gabriel grabbed the Horseman and as his vision cleared up, Sam could see him grinning that feral smile of the Pagan god. It was so odd to see it again, jarring with the wings that were unfurling at his back once more.

“That’s my family you’re messing with,” Gabriel hissed, the air crackling around him.

“Gabriel?”

“That’s my name, kid.” Gabriel sounded livid. “And I think you’ve killed quite enough people.”

Pestilence cackled, suddenly and unexpectedly. “Oh, not nearly enough yet. You might have stopped me here, but…”

With a snap of Gabriel’s fingers, Pestilence exploded into a red splatter that made Cas flinch away visibly. The resulting mess on the walls reminded Sam vividly of the aftermath they had discovered at Chuck’s place right after Lucifer had risen, right after Raphael had smote Cas. No wonder Cas had reacted to feeling (Sam assumed) the same power being used, even if it was directed at someone else.

“Awesome, Cas!” Dean crowed, stumbling to his feet. “That was completely awesome.”

Cas melted into Dean’s hug without a word, clung to him tightly, his wings coming round to envelop Dean. Dean frowned at Sam momentarily over Cas’ shoulders at the uncommon display of affection; the uncharacteristic need for support. Sam glanced around the room at Gabriel’s new decorating job, then deliberately back to Cas. Thankfully, Dean seemed to get the message.

Gabriel did too, his expression darkening as he realised suddenly just exactly how Castiel had died all those months ago. He knew that it had happened, but obviously not the specifics. He gave a very deliberate and controlled wave of his hand, and suddenly the mess was gone: the consulting room looked just as it had when they had first entered, only a couple of minutes beforehand, except for Doctor Bartlett - Roger - who was still unconscious over his desk.

“I’m keeping him that way for now,” Gabriel said tersely. “Fewer memories to alter later on. I hate messing with memories: reminds me of the Mystery Spot. Come on, let’s get going. I think we’re done here.”

.oOo.

It seemed almost anticlimactic in a way: it had been over so quickly that Sam had barely even processed they had succeeded. They had all four rings. It took seeing them all together on the table Cas had been mixing their henna spells on only last night for it to start to sink in; Dean producing War’s, Famine’s, and Death’s from the inside pocket of his jacket, and Cas placing Pestilence’s alongside them.

Gabriel rearranged them swiftly: War’s plain gold one in the middle and the other three surrounding it with their stones facing inwards. One nudge of Death’s, and the outer three gravitated towards War’s as if drawn together by magnets, locking together in a triangular configuration.

“Holy crap,” Dean breathed.

Sam looked up from the rings. Because this was only half the battle, really, and he suspected it was the easier half.

“So, what now? How do we get Lucifer back through the door?”

to be continued in Into the Light: The Vision