Hunger Pangs (Flight Club, Chapter 7 of 8)
Title: Hunger Pangs (Flight Club, Chapter 7 of 8)
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Cas; Sam, John, Bobby, Gabriel, Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazar, Joshua, Death
Warnings: Cursing.
Word Count: 38,000 total
Summary: John abandons teenaged Sam and Dean in Sioux Falls for the school year, where our young hunters-to-be befriend a strange boy who claims he and his brothers are angels of the Lord. Well, he's got a pretty cool sword anyway. The plot thickens when young Sammy wonders why there are so many restless spooks in the neighborhood, leading the boys to decide that calling out for pizza and Death is a wicked awesome idea. Hijinks ensue.
Notes: This is a high school AU, but since I can never do these things correctly, angels are still angels. (And some of them are still dickbags.)
“What’s going on, Bobby?” asked Dean when he showed up at Singer Salvage.
“Well, your angel’s gonna eat me outta house and home,” said Bobby, standing aside so Dean could enter.
“Hey, Cas,” sighed Dean.
“I like sandwiches!” said Castiel, who was sitting in a chair with an old book, a pad of paper, and a plate of cheese sandwiches all somewhat awkwardly balanced on his lap.
“Huh. Better than you like me?” asked Dean.
“Maybe!” smacked Castiel, who licked his fingers.
“Just don’t spill cheese on my damn angel book,” said Bobby.
“These are very good. Bobby puts them on the grill, and then the cheese melts!”
“You never seem that interested in food, Cas,” said Dean, sitting down on the couch opposite of Cas, and dearly wishing that a gut-load of toasted cheese sandwiches were all he needed to feel content right now.
“Yes. I’m not sure of the reason. I have been insatiably hungry these past few days,” said Castiel, who picked up another sandwich half and took a determined chomp.
“Who knew the way to an angel heart was Wonder bread and Velveeta,” laughed Bobby. “You having any luck with my damn translations, kid?”
“Yes,” said Castiel, gobs of cheese in his cheeks. “I have been meaning to point out something.”
“They got cheese sandwich recipes in there?”
“Oh. No,” said Castiel, rifling curiously through the pages. “Do you recall that Death said there were ways to utilize lost souls for the purposes of generating power?”
“Yeah?” asked Bobby. Dean found he was suddenly wrenched out of his foul mood.
“Do you observe this section?” asked Castiel, who tipped over the book to show a series of purple sticky notes stuck on the pages.
“That’s a lot of pages,” said Bobby.
“Yes. There are several pages of invocations. But they are unusual, in that they call not an individual spirit, but a group.”
“So, basically a whole section of the book is about calling a mass of spirits?” asked Bobby.
“Yes! And then,” said Cas, rudely cramming what was left of his cheese sandwich in his mouth, “th’ spe’ a’ th’ endin’ is fo’-“
“Cas! Swallow and then speak!” ordered Bobby.
Castiel chewed the sandwich and gulped, and then reached over and guzzled some soda straight from a two liter bottle. “Then there is a spell at the end of the section for … here, let me quote….” Cas flipped through the pages. “Here lieth an invocation for to take in the grace of spirits that hath been summoned anon.”
“And grace is magic? Power?” asked Bobby.
Castiel nodded, and grabbed for another sandwich.
“This is Lucifer’s bedtime reading?” asked Dean.
“Worrisome, ain’t it?” said Bobby. “Cas-“
“We should tell my brothers. Yes. Can we make more cheese sandwiches first?” asked Cas, holding up the empty platter.
“Cas, you’re gonna turn into a damn cheese sandwich,” said Bobby, yanking away the plate.
“Hey, maybe we could stop at Clownburger on the way to your place,” suggested Dean. “It’s on the way.”
“Yes, I will have a Clownburger deluxe and Clownfries and a Clownshake....”
Dean swore he head the sounds of Godzilla all the way from the driveway of the Haunted Mansion.
“Hey, Sammy,” he shouted over the din to his brother who, along with Gabriel, was sitting on the floor in front of a giant flatscreen TV, battling radioactive kaiju.
“Let me finish this level!” Sam barked back.
“We're, uh, studying,” laughed Balthazar, who had been reclining on one of the couches. “Would you care to join us in a somewhat quieter room?”
“Is there anything to eat?” mumbled Castiel, who was still jamming a deluxe Clownburger into his mouth. He brushed past, Balthazar and Raphael, who had also come out to greet Dean.
Balthazar waved his hand in the opposite direction, and, with Dean giving a final puzzled glance at Cas, the three walked to a somewhat quieter sitting room.
“I dunno what's up with your brother,” said Dean. “He was eating Bobby out of house and home, and then we had to stop and get takeout on the way here.”
Balthazar collapsed onto a couch, bursting with laughter. “Oh, I know what's up!” he said. Raphael looked puzzled for a moment, and then smiled and nodded.
“What's up?” asked Dean, sitting down opposite of them.
Balthazar leaned forward conspiratorially. “Well, I won't tell him, as I wouldn't want to get his hopes up.”
“Fledging,” said Raphael.
“I'm sure it is,” nodded Balthazar.
“Makes you hungry?” asked Dean.
“Ravenous!” said Balthazar.
“Balthazar and Gabriel fledged at about the same time, and we couldn't keep food in the house,” laughed Raphael.
“You go to the fridge and just devour everything! Down to the ice cube trays! And don't get your hands too near his mouth!” laughed Balthazar.
“Huh,” said Dean, who found his mind drifting to thoughts of whether this marvelous change might also make his friend horny. Of course, those thoughts then turned into other, darker thoughts of his father, and their chilling conversation. Leaving. And taking Sammy.
“Probably good you've come here, if you took him to your house, he'd probably have et poor little Sammy as a snack,” joked Balthazar.
“What?” asked Dean, as he'd been distracted. “Sammy? Oh, yeah, there's actually a reason I'm out here.” But Balthazar and Raphael had begun laughing again, so Dean turned to see his friend lumber into the room carrying a tray of what looked like more or less the contents of the refrigerator.
“Are you gonna share, Cas?” asked Dean.
“No,” said Castiel.
Dean smiled. “I was just gonna tell them what you found about that stolen angel book.”
“Oh, right!” said Castiel, piling several random foodstuffs on a piece of bread. “There was a section on utilizing the power of restless spirits.”
Raphael's expression suddenly changed. “Do you think that is what Lucifer was using the book for?”
“It's a big section,” said Dean.
“And it was marked,” said Cas, pausing a moment from his sandwich construction to pull something out of his pocket and toss it on the table.
Raphael picked it up and frowned.
“It's a condom wrapper!” Castiel supplied knowledgeably, as Raphael cast a glance at Dean.
“You're probably supposed to pretend you don't know that,” laughed Balthazar.
“Flavored,” smiled Dean.
“Strawberry,” chuckled Balthazar.
“Did you tell Bobby you had found this?” asked Dean.
“I did not think it was advisable,” said Castiel. “I think Bobby may have not reacted well to finding such an item in one of his texts.”
“Joking aside,” said Raphael, “we need to bring this to Michael's attention. And probably the sooner the better.”
“Well, can't he just zap over here?” asked Dean.
Balthazar and Raphael exchanged a significant glance, and Balthazar rolled his eyes. “I need a cigarette,” he exclaimed.
“Michael is attending the Republican National Convention. He is a Romney delegate.”
“And he, uh, takes this stuff seriously?” asked Dean.
“He takes this stuff very seriously,” said Balthazar.
“We are quite literally not supposed to call him,” said Raphael.
“Not even on the telephone,” said Balthazar.
“You guys got other ways to call him?” asked Dean. As if in answer, there was suddenly a voice inside his head, speaking a strange language. Dean recognize it: it was Enochian.
“Cassie, that's rude,” chided Balthazar.
“Dean likes when I speak Enochian!” protested Castiel.
“We can speak. And hear. But only in Enochian,” said Raphael.
“That seems perfect,” said Dean.
“It's a bit flawed,” confessed Balthazar. “Some human situations are very difficult to convey in the angelic language. A sandwich, for example!” he said, pointing to the monstrosity that Castiel was assembling. “As angels - real angels - don't eat, they don't have need for many words for foodstuffs.”
“I don't think there's any word for that thing in English,” laughed Dean. “Hey, Cas, you're gonna need another mouth!”
“Why would I need that?” asked Castiel, who did indeed seem flummoxed by the gargantuan sandwich. And then a light bulb appeared to go on in his head. Something flashed, and Cas, still holding his angel sword, crammed a bit of the sandwich that he had just sliced off into his mouth.
Balthazar literally fell off the couch laughing. All Raphael could come up with was a strangled, “I don't think you're supposed to use the angel sword … for that.”
“Hey, could you cut me a piece?” asked Dean. Castiel courteously obliged.
“What happened to the kitchen!” wailed Gabriel, who had just entered, along with Sam. “Were we hit by a plague of locusts. Oh shit! Cas! That's our food.”
“It's delicious!” said Castiel.
“Was one of you guys doing a summoning?” asked Sam.
The room grew quiet.
Sam held up a plastic salad bowl. “I don't wanna be nosy, but I noticed this sitting out in the kitchen sink. It's all charred around the inside, like ours was when we lit up the stuff. You need to use the ceramic bowls for that stuff I guess.”
Sam looked up. Both Dean and Raphael were now standing over him, looking at the bowl.
“Cas. The spells for using the souls?” said Dean. “Did you look through them at all?”
Castiel reluctantly put aside his sandwich and came over to look at the bowl as well. He took it from Sam, and took a long smell.
“Sage,” he said after a pause. He brushed his fingertips along the bowl and watched as he crumbled the ashed. “Wormwood.” He nodded. “Sam is correct. This bowl may have been used for some kind of evocation rite.”
“Cas. You remember when we were chasing the werewolf? The spirits were thick as mosquitos out there. But then they all left?”
“I had thought because you slew the werewolf,” said Castiel.
“But what if that's not what it was?” asked Dean. Castiel was silent. “We heard wings, Cas.”
Raphael scowled and took out his cell phone. He set it to speaker and tossed it on the coffee table.
“Raphael. I've requested that you keep contact to a minimum,” came Michael's chastening voice. There was an echo to his voice, as if Michael too had put his line on speaker. There was a lot of noise in the background: it sounded like either a riot or a really great party.
“Michael. You are gonna find some place quiet. And then you are gonna fucking listen to me.”
“Raph-”
“YOUR BROTHER LUCIFER IS EATING SOULS,” snapped Raphael.
There was a pause, and then the noise suddenly quieted, and when Michael's voice came back, it was close, as if he had turned off his speakerphone. “Wait. I'm gonna go to another room. Wait for me. Wait....”
“I haven't been to a place like this since I can't remember,” laughed Bobby.
Dean smiled and sipped his coffee. The club was small but crowded, mostly with college-aged kids. Up on stage, a girl in a black leotard was doing some kind of confusing dance while a guy picked somewhat clumsily on a guitar.
Dean had entered the club along with Bobby, Cas, Raph and Balthy. But Balthy was immediately swallowed up by a veritably tide of cute young girls, all of whom seemed to know and adore him. He grinned back and gave a mock helpless shrug, and then accompanied them off to a corner of the club, where there's a couple by his side and another, giggling, in his lap.
Poor Raphael had been too nervous to even pretend to sip at the coffee he'd ordered, so he had disappeared in the back, muttering some excuse. So it was just Dean and Bobby and Cas, sitting crowded at a table, Cas craning his neck to look around in wonder, Bobby sitting back and looking like he was having the time of his life.
“You ever hear any of your brother's stuff before?” Bobby asked Cas.
“According to Balthazar, it is quite good.”
“Can't be worse than the current act,” muttered Dean.
“So, I hate to ask now, but you think your brother is gonna take care of the mess with Lucifer?” Bobby asked Castiel.
Castiel was busy signaling to a waitress, who plopped a selection of baked goods in front of him. The ravenous hunger had subsided somewhat, but Dean was still amazed at how much food the guy could put away. “I wish I had a more reassuring answer for you, Bobby,” said Cas, digging into a blueberry scone. “Michael wished to confront Lucifer alone. But I do not believe we will get the answers we seek.”
“Well, at the very least, Lucy knows we got him in our sights. And I got my book where he can't get his grubby hands on it no more,” said Bobby.
“Please reveal no more about the situation of the book,” warned Castiel. “I do not want the knowledge to inadvertently get back to my brother.”
“Ha! Cas, you are one grumpy-ass paranoid kid,” laughed Bobby, clapping the angel on the shoulder. “I would adopt ya as my own, only I could never keep you in grub.”
Castiel actually stopped eating to blink at Bobby. The smile that often almost arrived suddenly flushed over into a real one. And then Bobby himself smiled and looked away. “Go back to your food, idjit,” he said, ruffing Castiel's hair.
“Hey, look, there he is!” said Dean.
The club quieted noticeably as Raphael came to stand at the podium on the small stage. The quiet subdued to absolute silence as Raphael took a glance around the club. His eyes were piercing.
And then he looked down again, and began to read.
The sky broke open
And I saw what you'd done
I saw what you'd left behind
Poisoned ashes
Drained through my hand
The glorious sound of your golden horn
Shrill in the distance
The sky broke open
Thousands wailed at your wake
Crying for you
But you were already gone
Leaving me cursed
And bleeding
“Your brother? Kind of a downer,” Dean whispered to Cas.
Castiel leaned over and put his lips near Dean's ear. “This is actually fairly light. For him.”
“Really? No shit?”
“There are usually far more casualties,” said Cas. They both looked up guiltily as the club erupted into applause and some snapping of fingers. Bobby nudged them, and they started to applaud. Raphael was persuaded to read a few more works, which, as Cas had suggested, became ever more morbid, and which correspondingly received more and more acclaim.
When Raphael finally returned to the table, he had to make his way through several groups of his brand new sycophants. He sat down, looking more than a little stunned. He was soon engulfed in a great bear hug by Balthazar, who had come up behind him.
“An artiste is born!” exclaimed Balthazar.
“I feel … a little shaky,” admitted Raphael.
“Hey, Balthy,” said Dean. He nodded over to the corner where Balthazar had been sitting. “What's up with the harem.”
Balthazar grinned and aimed a little wave at his fans. “As you know,” he said quietly, “we all have our gifts. Raphael here remembers his past lives, Cassie can speak our language, Gabriel is an adept user of magic. And me? I'm hopelessly fabulous!”
Dean slid his eyes over to Cas, to see if it was a joke. Cas shrugged as Bobby laughed his ass off.
“Would you all mind,” asked Raphael, “if we got some air?”
“You sure you don't wanna collect some phone numbers, dude?” asked Dean, noticing all the college girls who were suddenly making eyes at Raphael.
“I'm a little overwhelmed,” said Raphael. “And I'm concerned about Michael's meeting. I don't have any messages,” he said, holding up his cell phone.
“I could use a smoke,” said Balthazar. “Let's step out for some air.”
The alley in back of the club was deserted at this hour.
“I wonder why Michael hasn't called. You suppose I should leave him a message?” asked Raphael. He hit a speed dial button, and then listened to what was apparently an automated message. “It's Raphael. Call us when you can,” he said, shutting off the call. “It's just going to voice mail.”
“Is this like him?” asked Bobby.
“Very. He probably just plain forgot to inform the little folk what was happening,” sighed Balthazar, grabbing his pack of Marlboros. He mouthed a cigarette, and then brought out a match and struck it.
The match flamed. Dean watched as the flame floated downwards when it was released from Balthazar's shaking hand. “Balthy?” asked Dean. The angel's mouth was open, and he was staring.
“Brother!” came Gabriel's voice, and the small angel tumbled out of nowhere, nearly tackling Raphael. “Brother!” repeated Gabriel, now clinging to his elder brother.
“Cas! What the hell...?” asked Dean, turning to his friend. Castiel stood, still as a statue, tears streaming down his eyes.
“Dean. Our brother. Our brother … is dead,” Cas finally gasped.
Dean grabbed Castiel's arm. All of the blood was drained from Cas' face.
“Cas,” said Bobby. “You tell me. You tell me now. Which brother?”
This entry was originally posted at http://tikific.dreamwidth.org/119134.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Cas; Sam, John, Bobby, Gabriel, Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazar, Joshua, Death
Warnings: Cursing.
Word Count: 38,000 total
Summary: John abandons teenaged Sam and Dean in Sioux Falls for the school year, where our young hunters-to-be befriend a strange boy who claims he and his brothers are angels of the Lord. Well, he's got a pretty cool sword anyway. The plot thickens when young Sammy wonders why there are so many restless spooks in the neighborhood, leading the boys to decide that calling out for pizza and Death is a wicked awesome idea. Hijinks ensue.
Notes: This is a high school AU, but since I can never do these things correctly, angels are still angels. (And some of them are still dickbags.)
“What’s going on, Bobby?” asked Dean when he showed up at Singer Salvage.
“Well, your angel’s gonna eat me outta house and home,” said Bobby, standing aside so Dean could enter.
“Hey, Cas,” sighed Dean.
“I like sandwiches!” said Castiel, who was sitting in a chair with an old book, a pad of paper, and a plate of cheese sandwiches all somewhat awkwardly balanced on his lap.
“Huh. Better than you like me?” asked Dean.
“Maybe!” smacked Castiel, who licked his fingers.
“Just don’t spill cheese on my damn angel book,” said Bobby.
“These are very good. Bobby puts them on the grill, and then the cheese melts!”
“You never seem that interested in food, Cas,” said Dean, sitting down on the couch opposite of Cas, and dearly wishing that a gut-load of toasted cheese sandwiches were all he needed to feel content right now.
“Yes. I’m not sure of the reason. I have been insatiably hungry these past few days,” said Castiel, who picked up another sandwich half and took a determined chomp.
“Who knew the way to an angel heart was Wonder bread and Velveeta,” laughed Bobby. “You having any luck with my damn translations, kid?”
“Yes,” said Castiel, gobs of cheese in his cheeks. “I have been meaning to point out something.”
“They got cheese sandwich recipes in there?”
“Oh. No,” said Castiel, rifling curiously through the pages. “Do you recall that Death said there were ways to utilize lost souls for the purposes of generating power?”
“Yeah?” asked Bobby. Dean found he was suddenly wrenched out of his foul mood.
“Do you observe this section?” asked Castiel, who tipped over the book to show a series of purple sticky notes stuck on the pages.
“That’s a lot of pages,” said Bobby.
“Yes. There are several pages of invocations. But they are unusual, in that they call not an individual spirit, but a group.”
“So, basically a whole section of the book is about calling a mass of spirits?” asked Bobby.
“Yes! And then,” said Cas, rudely cramming what was left of his cheese sandwich in his mouth, “th’ spe’ a’ th’ endin’ is fo’-“
“Cas! Swallow and then speak!” ordered Bobby.
Castiel chewed the sandwich and gulped, and then reached over and guzzled some soda straight from a two liter bottle. “Then there is a spell at the end of the section for … here, let me quote….” Cas flipped through the pages. “Here lieth an invocation for to take in the grace of spirits that hath been summoned anon.”
“And grace is magic? Power?” asked Bobby.
Castiel nodded, and grabbed for another sandwich.
“This is Lucifer’s bedtime reading?” asked Dean.
“Worrisome, ain’t it?” said Bobby. “Cas-“
“We should tell my brothers. Yes. Can we make more cheese sandwiches first?” asked Cas, holding up the empty platter.
“Cas, you’re gonna turn into a damn cheese sandwich,” said Bobby, yanking away the plate.
“Hey, maybe we could stop at Clownburger on the way to your place,” suggested Dean. “It’s on the way.”
“Yes, I will have a Clownburger deluxe and Clownfries and a Clownshake....”
Dean swore he head the sounds of Godzilla all the way from the driveway of the Haunted Mansion.
“Hey, Sammy,” he shouted over the din to his brother who, along with Gabriel, was sitting on the floor in front of a giant flatscreen TV, battling radioactive kaiju.
“Let me finish this level!” Sam barked back.
“We're, uh, studying,” laughed Balthazar, who had been reclining on one of the couches. “Would you care to join us in a somewhat quieter room?”
“Is there anything to eat?” mumbled Castiel, who was still jamming a deluxe Clownburger into his mouth. He brushed past, Balthazar and Raphael, who had also come out to greet Dean.
Balthazar waved his hand in the opposite direction, and, with Dean giving a final puzzled glance at Cas, the three walked to a somewhat quieter sitting room.
“I dunno what's up with your brother,” said Dean. “He was eating Bobby out of house and home, and then we had to stop and get takeout on the way here.”
Balthazar collapsed onto a couch, bursting with laughter. “Oh, I know what's up!” he said. Raphael looked puzzled for a moment, and then smiled and nodded.
“What's up?” asked Dean, sitting down opposite of them.
Balthazar leaned forward conspiratorially. “Well, I won't tell him, as I wouldn't want to get his hopes up.”
“Fledging,” said Raphael.
“I'm sure it is,” nodded Balthazar.
“Makes you hungry?” asked Dean.
“Ravenous!” said Balthazar.
“Balthazar and Gabriel fledged at about the same time, and we couldn't keep food in the house,” laughed Raphael.
“You go to the fridge and just devour everything! Down to the ice cube trays! And don't get your hands too near his mouth!” laughed Balthazar.
“Huh,” said Dean, who found his mind drifting to thoughts of whether this marvelous change might also make his friend horny. Of course, those thoughts then turned into other, darker thoughts of his father, and their chilling conversation. Leaving. And taking Sammy.
“Probably good you've come here, if you took him to your house, he'd probably have et poor little Sammy as a snack,” joked Balthazar.
“What?” asked Dean, as he'd been distracted. “Sammy? Oh, yeah, there's actually a reason I'm out here.” But Balthazar and Raphael had begun laughing again, so Dean turned to see his friend lumber into the room carrying a tray of what looked like more or less the contents of the refrigerator.
“Are you gonna share, Cas?” asked Dean.
“No,” said Castiel.
Dean smiled. “I was just gonna tell them what you found about that stolen angel book.”
“Oh, right!” said Castiel, piling several random foodstuffs on a piece of bread. “There was a section on utilizing the power of restless spirits.”
Raphael's expression suddenly changed. “Do you think that is what Lucifer was using the book for?”
“It's a big section,” said Dean.
“And it was marked,” said Cas, pausing a moment from his sandwich construction to pull something out of his pocket and toss it on the table.
Raphael picked it up and frowned.
“It's a condom wrapper!” Castiel supplied knowledgeably, as Raphael cast a glance at Dean.
“You're probably supposed to pretend you don't know that,” laughed Balthazar.
“Flavored,” smiled Dean.
“Strawberry,” chuckled Balthazar.
“Did you tell Bobby you had found this?” asked Dean.
“I did not think it was advisable,” said Castiel. “I think Bobby may have not reacted well to finding such an item in one of his texts.”
“Joking aside,” said Raphael, “we need to bring this to Michael's attention. And probably the sooner the better.”
“Well, can't he just zap over here?” asked Dean.
Balthazar and Raphael exchanged a significant glance, and Balthazar rolled his eyes. “I need a cigarette,” he exclaimed.
“Michael is attending the Republican National Convention. He is a Romney delegate.”
“And he, uh, takes this stuff seriously?” asked Dean.
“He takes this stuff very seriously,” said Balthazar.
“We are quite literally not supposed to call him,” said Raphael.
“Not even on the telephone,” said Balthazar.
“You guys got other ways to call him?” asked Dean. As if in answer, there was suddenly a voice inside his head, speaking a strange language. Dean recognize it: it was Enochian.
“Cassie, that's rude,” chided Balthazar.
“Dean likes when I speak Enochian!” protested Castiel.
“We can speak. And hear. But only in Enochian,” said Raphael.
“That seems perfect,” said Dean.
“It's a bit flawed,” confessed Balthazar. “Some human situations are very difficult to convey in the angelic language. A sandwich, for example!” he said, pointing to the monstrosity that Castiel was assembling. “As angels - real angels - don't eat, they don't have need for many words for foodstuffs.”
“I don't think there's any word for that thing in English,” laughed Dean. “Hey, Cas, you're gonna need another mouth!”
“Why would I need that?” asked Castiel, who did indeed seem flummoxed by the gargantuan sandwich. And then a light bulb appeared to go on in his head. Something flashed, and Cas, still holding his angel sword, crammed a bit of the sandwich that he had just sliced off into his mouth.
Balthazar literally fell off the couch laughing. All Raphael could come up with was a strangled, “I don't think you're supposed to use the angel sword … for that.”
“Hey, could you cut me a piece?” asked Dean. Castiel courteously obliged.
“What happened to the kitchen!” wailed Gabriel, who had just entered, along with Sam. “Were we hit by a plague of locusts. Oh shit! Cas! That's our food.”
“It's delicious!” said Castiel.
“Was one of you guys doing a summoning?” asked Sam.
The room grew quiet.
Sam held up a plastic salad bowl. “I don't wanna be nosy, but I noticed this sitting out in the kitchen sink. It's all charred around the inside, like ours was when we lit up the stuff. You need to use the ceramic bowls for that stuff I guess.”
Sam looked up. Both Dean and Raphael were now standing over him, looking at the bowl.
“Cas. The spells for using the souls?” said Dean. “Did you look through them at all?”
Castiel reluctantly put aside his sandwich and came over to look at the bowl as well. He took it from Sam, and took a long smell.
“Sage,” he said after a pause. He brushed his fingertips along the bowl and watched as he crumbled the ashed. “Wormwood.” He nodded. “Sam is correct. This bowl may have been used for some kind of evocation rite.”
“Cas. You remember when we were chasing the werewolf? The spirits were thick as mosquitos out there. But then they all left?”
“I had thought because you slew the werewolf,” said Castiel.
“But what if that's not what it was?” asked Dean. Castiel was silent. “We heard wings, Cas.”
Raphael scowled and took out his cell phone. He set it to speaker and tossed it on the coffee table.
“Raphael. I've requested that you keep contact to a minimum,” came Michael's chastening voice. There was an echo to his voice, as if Michael too had put his line on speaker. There was a lot of noise in the background: it sounded like either a riot or a really great party.
“Michael. You are gonna find some place quiet. And then you are gonna fucking listen to me.”
“Raph-”
“YOUR BROTHER LUCIFER IS EATING SOULS,” snapped Raphael.
There was a pause, and then the noise suddenly quieted, and when Michael's voice came back, it was close, as if he had turned off his speakerphone. “Wait. I'm gonna go to another room. Wait for me. Wait....”
“I haven't been to a place like this since I can't remember,” laughed Bobby.
Dean smiled and sipped his coffee. The club was small but crowded, mostly with college-aged kids. Up on stage, a girl in a black leotard was doing some kind of confusing dance while a guy picked somewhat clumsily on a guitar.
Dean had entered the club along with Bobby, Cas, Raph and Balthy. But Balthy was immediately swallowed up by a veritably tide of cute young girls, all of whom seemed to know and adore him. He grinned back and gave a mock helpless shrug, and then accompanied them off to a corner of the club, where there's a couple by his side and another, giggling, in his lap.
Poor Raphael had been too nervous to even pretend to sip at the coffee he'd ordered, so he had disappeared in the back, muttering some excuse. So it was just Dean and Bobby and Cas, sitting crowded at a table, Cas craning his neck to look around in wonder, Bobby sitting back and looking like he was having the time of his life.
“You ever hear any of your brother's stuff before?” Bobby asked Cas.
“According to Balthazar, it is quite good.”
“Can't be worse than the current act,” muttered Dean.
“So, I hate to ask now, but you think your brother is gonna take care of the mess with Lucifer?” Bobby asked Castiel.
Castiel was busy signaling to a waitress, who plopped a selection of baked goods in front of him. The ravenous hunger had subsided somewhat, but Dean was still amazed at how much food the guy could put away. “I wish I had a more reassuring answer for you, Bobby,” said Cas, digging into a blueberry scone. “Michael wished to confront Lucifer alone. But I do not believe we will get the answers we seek.”
“Well, at the very least, Lucy knows we got him in our sights. And I got my book where he can't get his grubby hands on it no more,” said Bobby.
“Please reveal no more about the situation of the book,” warned Castiel. “I do not want the knowledge to inadvertently get back to my brother.”
“Ha! Cas, you are one grumpy-ass paranoid kid,” laughed Bobby, clapping the angel on the shoulder. “I would adopt ya as my own, only I could never keep you in grub.”
Castiel actually stopped eating to blink at Bobby. The smile that often almost arrived suddenly flushed over into a real one. And then Bobby himself smiled and looked away. “Go back to your food, idjit,” he said, ruffing Castiel's hair.
“Hey, look, there he is!” said Dean.
The club quieted noticeably as Raphael came to stand at the podium on the small stage. The quiet subdued to absolute silence as Raphael took a glance around the club. His eyes were piercing.
And then he looked down again, and began to read.
The sky broke open
And I saw what you'd done
I saw what you'd left behind
Poisoned ashes
Drained through my hand
The glorious sound of your golden horn
Shrill in the distance
The sky broke open
Thousands wailed at your wake
Crying for you
But you were already gone
Leaving me cursed
And bleeding
“Your brother? Kind of a downer,” Dean whispered to Cas.
Castiel leaned over and put his lips near Dean's ear. “This is actually fairly light. For him.”
“Really? No shit?”
“There are usually far more casualties,” said Cas. They both looked up guiltily as the club erupted into applause and some snapping of fingers. Bobby nudged them, and they started to applaud. Raphael was persuaded to read a few more works, which, as Cas had suggested, became ever more morbid, and which correspondingly received more and more acclaim.
When Raphael finally returned to the table, he had to make his way through several groups of his brand new sycophants. He sat down, looking more than a little stunned. He was soon engulfed in a great bear hug by Balthazar, who had come up behind him.
“An artiste is born!” exclaimed Balthazar.
“I feel … a little shaky,” admitted Raphael.
“Hey, Balthy,” said Dean. He nodded over to the corner where Balthazar had been sitting. “What's up with the harem.”
Balthazar grinned and aimed a little wave at his fans. “As you know,” he said quietly, “we all have our gifts. Raphael here remembers his past lives, Cassie can speak our language, Gabriel is an adept user of magic. And me? I'm hopelessly fabulous!”
Dean slid his eyes over to Cas, to see if it was a joke. Cas shrugged as Bobby laughed his ass off.
“Would you all mind,” asked Raphael, “if we got some air?”
“You sure you don't wanna collect some phone numbers, dude?” asked Dean, noticing all the college girls who were suddenly making eyes at Raphael.
“I'm a little overwhelmed,” said Raphael. “And I'm concerned about Michael's meeting. I don't have any messages,” he said, holding up his cell phone.
“I could use a smoke,” said Balthazar. “Let's step out for some air.”
The alley in back of the club was deserted at this hour.
“I wonder why Michael hasn't called. You suppose I should leave him a message?” asked Raphael. He hit a speed dial button, and then listened to what was apparently an automated message. “It's Raphael. Call us when you can,” he said, shutting off the call. “It's just going to voice mail.”
“Is this like him?” asked Bobby.
“Very. He probably just plain forgot to inform the little folk what was happening,” sighed Balthazar, grabbing his pack of Marlboros. He mouthed a cigarette, and then brought out a match and struck it.
The match flamed. Dean watched as the flame floated downwards when it was released from Balthazar's shaking hand. “Balthy?” asked Dean. The angel's mouth was open, and he was staring.
“Brother!” came Gabriel's voice, and the small angel tumbled out of nowhere, nearly tackling Raphael. “Brother!” repeated Gabriel, now clinging to his elder brother.
“Cas! What the hell...?” asked Dean, turning to his friend. Castiel stood, still as a statue, tears streaming down his eyes.
“Dean. Our brother. Our brother … is dead,” Cas finally gasped.
Dean grabbed Castiel's arm. All of the blood was drained from Cas' face.
“Cas,” said Bobby. “You tell me. You tell me now. Which brother?”
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