The Apocalypse is Not a Buddy Show, 4/?
Title: The Apocalypse is Not a Buddy Show, 4/?
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: reading_is_in
Characters: Castiel, Dean, Anna
Genre: Drama, Humour
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All recognized characters from ‘Supernatural’ are property of Eric Kripke/CW. This fan fiction is not for profit.
Summary: Just because you're fallen, doesn't mean you can't fight demon crime. Set late Season 4: Spoilers up to 5.02.
A/N: As I understand, the Meatpacking District of NY has in fact undergone a renaissance in recent years, becoming something of a cultural hub. For purposes of this story, we must pretend it is still mostly warehouses and holds a dubious reputation, with no offence to any denizens intended!
“It is not regulatory,” Cas said uneasily.
“But….?” Dean was sitting on the end of his bunk, tugging a boot on. Castiel had woken him almost as soon as the vision had ended. Dean had agreed quickly this time, obviously convinced that Castiel’s information was reliable.
“We could still be a ‘dynamic duo’” Castiel quoted. Dean winced and repeated,
“But….?”
“I think we ought to secure backup.”
“From who?” Dean looked incredulous.
“Ruby…”
“Oh no,” Dean stood up and started throwing things into his backpack, not looking at Castiel: “Stop thinking about that right now.”
“She was of invaluable assistance last time!” Castiel objected, “And there are three of them! There are but two of us!”
“Three once we find Sammy.”
Castiel was silent.
“Don’t even go there,” Dean said.
“Go where?”
“Where you’re thinking.”
“We are going to the Meatpacking District,” Castiel reminded him.
“Yes Cas. Get in the car.”
* * *
“It is suitable vehicle,” Cas said approvingly.
“She,” Dean corrected from the driver’s seat. “A good car is like a beautiful woman.”
“In what way?”
“Well….well, ‘cause she’s sexy, and powerful, I guess. It’s a figure of speech.”
“A metaphor,” Castiel nodded sagely. “She does possess a certain…attraction.”
“Damn right,” Dean smiled a little, pleased despite himself: he’d always been a sucker for compliments. He watched from the corner of his eye as Castiel touched the dashboard, ran his fingers over the inside passenger door, curious and naively appreciative. The Impala’s engine, still tamped down, rumbled approval. Sam never really noticed the car: not for what she was. To Sam, she was a tool, same as a gun or knife was a tool, and of course he’d kept in condition while Dean was - away -, because it would be stupid not to maintain your tools. But he didn’t talk to her, didn’t listen to her: another thing he had in common with Dad. Maybe someday he’d take Cas to a classic car rally.
Where the hell had that come from?
Half of his mind was preoccupied with getting to Sam, and he pushed forwards as much as traffic permitted. But he wasn’t - panicked, as he’d have been in the old days. Like the time Sam had vanished for a week, after Dad, and he’d been crazy with worry, imagining all kinds of worst case scenarios...that was before he’d seen his brother’s mental exorcism, before Sam had killed Alistair, before Ruby. Yeah, he still had his duties, and he was still - anxious. But he’d harbored the image of Sam as dependent and needing his protection at all times way beyond its reality, and the last months had shattered that.
Castiel glanced around uneasily as they entered the Meatpacking District. It was made up mostly of warehouses, and the dull weather made the hulking brick and wood structures look menacing and shadowy. The sidewalks were cracked in places, ancient dark stains spreading down to the gutters, and lorries were parked intermittently in the process of unloading. Graffiti decorated the garage doors: mostly unoriginal FUCK-U’s and advertisements for sex, plus an incongruous SINNER REPENT and an impressive portrait. Cas’s eyes widened at the sight of a whole side of beef, swinging from a hook in the back of an open lorry.
“Where do you think burgers come from?” Dean told him.
Castiel gulped and nodded. The delivery guy caught them looking and gave them a You-Got-A-Problem expression. Castiel dropped his gaze.
“That is the place,” the ex-angel pointed towards an abandoned-looking warehouse on the corner of two adjacent streets.
“Okay,” Dean started looking for somewhere relatively inconspicuous he could leave the Impala. He’d actually considered taking a bus, for the first time in over ten years, but he could feel his girl giving him offended vibes even as he made to walk past her. Well, he considered resignedly, today, he could actually use the excuse to punch somebody in the face.
“What is our plan?” Castiel asked, as they pulled into the sidestreet.
“The same plan as we always have, Cas,” Dean said wearily. “Go in, win or lose, get Sammy or die tryin’. Still got your gun?”
“Yes. I feel we neglect strategy.”
“Suggestions?”
Castiel thought. “Most such structures have inbuilt sprinkler systems for use in case of fire. If we could locate the water supply, I could attempt to sanctify it. We could assault the enemy with holy water. Though of course, it is uncertain what affect that would….have….”
“ - on Sammy.” Dean finished for him, and resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. Christ, he was tired of this. Who’d have thought thatwould ever wind up as a consideration? “No, we can’t. I’m not going to chance burning the kid’s skin off, whatever he…” Did. Is. Has Done.
“That leaves us with only the stealth approach utilized last time. It did work fairly effectively, despite gaining aid from an unexpected quarter.” Was Castiel reprimanding him for not inviting the uber bitch?
“Okay, whatever. Loaded up?”
“The gun has sufficient salt reserves.”
“Then let’s move.”
Castiel nodded and undid his seatbelt. Dean’s mouth quirked. He and Sammy never bothered with those, and it touched him, somehow, how Castiel was trying to be careful with his new mortal getup. He locked the Impala and patted her for good luck before heading out to the warehouse.
* * *
Anna’s information was correct: there were three demons. One of them was possessing a child, which made Castiel feel vaguely sick, a decidedly mortal reaction. They had Samuel Winchester tied to a chair, not that he seemed to be resisting - he had evidently been subdued by violence, as a purpling bruise down the side of his face indicated. Castiel felt empathy. He understood pain now. The corners of Samuel’s mouth dripped with blood - not his own, Castiel assumed. He did not understand. Sam was tied to the chair, but if the demons were forcing him to drink their blood, oughtn’t he be strong enough to free himself? And the demon standing over Sam - one possessing the body of an old man - was doing no violence. He was - talking - just talking. With his new limitations, Castiel could not make it out the words. And Sam appeared to be listening, though his eyes remained half-closed and his head tilted back. There was something in his attitude of - reception.
Beside Castiel, Dean cursed quietly. There just one accessible window. They would not be able to attack from opposite sides, reducing their chances of success.
“This isn’t fair,” Dean whispered harshly. “This is some reverse Clockwork Orange shit. You sons of bitches never gave him a chance.”
“Us?” Castiel asked.
“Heaven!”
“I am not of heaven anymore,” Castiel reminded him sadly.
“Right,” Dean blinked, looked vaguely apologetic. “Sorry.”
“That is alright,” Castiel said, before realizing. “I am glad to be on this mission.”
Before he could properly assimilate that, Dean lifted his gun and said,
“Ready.”
Part Five
A/N 2: *Special Geek Bonus Note!* According to my *ahem* research, lap belts became compulsory in US cars in 1963. Shoulder belts became compulsory for front seats in 1968, so the chances are a 67 would have them fitted. As far as I’ve noticed, S and D never wear seatbelts of any kind, which means that they are breaking the law again. Very naughty.
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: reading_is_in
Characters: Castiel, Dean, Anna
Genre: Drama, Humour
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All recognized characters from ‘Supernatural’ are property of Eric Kripke/CW. This fan fiction is not for profit.
Summary: Just because you're fallen, doesn't mean you can't fight demon crime. Set late Season 4: Spoilers up to 5.02.
A/N: As I understand, the Meatpacking District of NY has in fact undergone a renaissance in recent years, becoming something of a cultural hub. For purposes of this story, we must pretend it is still mostly warehouses and holds a dubious reputation, with no offence to any denizens intended!
“It is not regulatory,” Cas said uneasily.
“But….?” Dean was sitting on the end of his bunk, tugging a boot on. Castiel had woken him almost as soon as the vision had ended. Dean had agreed quickly this time, obviously convinced that Castiel’s information was reliable.
“We could still be a ‘dynamic duo’” Castiel quoted. Dean winced and repeated,
“But….?”
“I think we ought to secure backup.”
“From who?” Dean looked incredulous.
“Ruby…”
“Oh no,” Dean stood up and started throwing things into his backpack, not looking at Castiel: “Stop thinking about that right now.”
“She was of invaluable assistance last time!” Castiel objected, “And there are three of them! There are but two of us!”
“Three once we find Sammy.”
Castiel was silent.
“Don’t even go there,” Dean said.
“Go where?”
“Where you’re thinking.”
“We are going to the Meatpacking District,” Castiel reminded him.
“Yes Cas. Get in the car.”
* * *
“It is suitable vehicle,” Cas said approvingly.
“She,” Dean corrected from the driver’s seat. “A good car is like a beautiful woman.”
“In what way?”
“Well….well, ‘cause she’s sexy, and powerful, I guess. It’s a figure of speech.”
“A metaphor,” Castiel nodded sagely. “She does possess a certain…attraction.”
“Damn right,” Dean smiled a little, pleased despite himself: he’d always been a sucker for compliments. He watched from the corner of his eye as Castiel touched the dashboard, ran his fingers over the inside passenger door, curious and naively appreciative. The Impala’s engine, still tamped down, rumbled approval. Sam never really noticed the car: not for what she was. To Sam, she was a tool, same as a gun or knife was a tool, and of course he’d kept in condition while Dean was - away -, because it would be stupid not to maintain your tools. But he didn’t talk to her, didn’t listen to her: another thing he had in common with Dad. Maybe someday he’d take Cas to a classic car rally.
Where the hell had that come from?
Half of his mind was preoccupied with getting to Sam, and he pushed forwards as much as traffic permitted. But he wasn’t - panicked, as he’d have been in the old days. Like the time Sam had vanished for a week, after Dad, and he’d been crazy with worry, imagining all kinds of worst case scenarios...that was before he’d seen his brother’s mental exorcism, before Sam had killed Alistair, before Ruby. Yeah, he still had his duties, and he was still - anxious. But he’d harbored the image of Sam as dependent and needing his protection at all times way beyond its reality, and the last months had shattered that.
Castiel glanced around uneasily as they entered the Meatpacking District. It was made up mostly of warehouses, and the dull weather made the hulking brick and wood structures look menacing and shadowy. The sidewalks were cracked in places, ancient dark stains spreading down to the gutters, and lorries were parked intermittently in the process of unloading. Graffiti decorated the garage doors: mostly unoriginal FUCK-U’s and advertisements for sex, plus an incongruous SINNER REPENT and an impressive portrait. Cas’s eyes widened at the sight of a whole side of beef, swinging from a hook in the back of an open lorry.
“Where do you think burgers come from?” Dean told him.
Castiel gulped and nodded. The delivery guy caught them looking and gave them a You-Got-A-Problem expression. Castiel dropped his gaze.
“That is the place,” the ex-angel pointed towards an abandoned-looking warehouse on the corner of two adjacent streets.
“Okay,” Dean started looking for somewhere relatively inconspicuous he could leave the Impala. He’d actually considered taking a bus, for the first time in over ten years, but he could feel his girl giving him offended vibes even as he made to walk past her. Well, he considered resignedly, today, he could actually use the excuse to punch somebody in the face.
“What is our plan?” Castiel asked, as they pulled into the sidestreet.
“The same plan as we always have, Cas,” Dean said wearily. “Go in, win or lose, get Sammy or die tryin’. Still got your gun?”
“Yes. I feel we neglect strategy.”
“Suggestions?”
Castiel thought. “Most such structures have inbuilt sprinkler systems for use in case of fire. If we could locate the water supply, I could attempt to sanctify it. We could assault the enemy with holy water. Though of course, it is uncertain what affect that would….have….”
“ - on Sammy.” Dean finished for him, and resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. Christ, he was tired of this. Who’d have thought thatwould ever wind up as a consideration? “No, we can’t. I’m not going to chance burning the kid’s skin off, whatever he…” Did. Is. Has Done.
“That leaves us with only the stealth approach utilized last time. It did work fairly effectively, despite gaining aid from an unexpected quarter.” Was Castiel reprimanding him for not inviting the uber bitch?
“Okay, whatever. Loaded up?”
“The gun has sufficient salt reserves.”
“Then let’s move.”
Castiel nodded and undid his seatbelt. Dean’s mouth quirked. He and Sammy never bothered with those, and it touched him, somehow, how Castiel was trying to be careful with his new mortal getup. He locked the Impala and patted her for good luck before heading out to the warehouse.
* * *
Anna’s information was correct: there were three demons. One of them was possessing a child, which made Castiel feel vaguely sick, a decidedly mortal reaction. They had Samuel Winchester tied to a chair, not that he seemed to be resisting - he had evidently been subdued by violence, as a purpling bruise down the side of his face indicated. Castiel felt empathy. He understood pain now. The corners of Samuel’s mouth dripped with blood - not his own, Castiel assumed. He did not understand. Sam was tied to the chair, but if the demons were forcing him to drink their blood, oughtn’t he be strong enough to free himself? And the demon standing over Sam - one possessing the body of an old man - was doing no violence. He was - talking - just talking. With his new limitations, Castiel could not make it out the words. And Sam appeared to be listening, though his eyes remained half-closed and his head tilted back. There was something in his attitude of - reception.
Beside Castiel, Dean cursed quietly. There just one accessible window. They would not be able to attack from opposite sides, reducing their chances of success.
“This isn’t fair,” Dean whispered harshly. “This is some reverse Clockwork Orange shit. You sons of bitches never gave him a chance.”
“Us?” Castiel asked.
“Heaven!”
“I am not of heaven anymore,” Castiel reminded him sadly.
“Right,” Dean blinked, looked vaguely apologetic. “Sorry.”
“That is alright,” Castiel said, before realizing. “I am glad to be on this mission.”
Before he could properly assimilate that, Dean lifted his gun and said,
“Ready.”
Part Five
A/N 2: *Special Geek Bonus Note!* According to my *ahem* research, lap belts became compulsory in US cars in 1963. Shoulder belts became compulsory for front seats in 1968, so the chances are a 67 would have them fitted. As far as I’ve noticed, S and D never wear seatbelts of any kind, which means that they are breaking the law again. Very naughty.