Crusade (Perseides, Chapter 7 of 7)
Title: Crusade (Perseides, Chapter 7 of 7)
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Cas; Sam, Bobby, Gabriel, Rufus, Balthazar, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Uriel, Jody Mills, Ruby.
Warnings: Cursing. Sexual situations. Descriptions of violence, especially in later chapters. Some light hints of Sam/Ruby.
Word Count: 45,000 total
Summary: The apocalypse has come. Lucifer and Michael burned down heaven in their madness, and our own world has been rent in two. Much of the United States now roils in a state of constant warfare. When Sam, a fighter pilot working for the Michaelistas, is shot down over enemy lines, Dean, an ex-cop, risks everything to search for him. Both brothers find some help along the way from creatures they never knew existed.
Notes: This is set in a post-apocalyptic AU, but it is NOT the Endverse. The character of Al Swearengen has been shamelessly stolen, with love, from the Deadwood 'verse.
“Make no marks on the wings. I want them.”
“Yes, boss.”
Uriel grinned and greedily fanned out one of Cas' dark wings. “You'll be a lovely prize up on my wall when we're done with you,” he grinned, leering at the angel chained up in front of him. “The big boss made me abandon my lovely little trophy room. Did you see it? But it doesn’t matter. And don’t fret, I'll have only the best people mount them.”
Cas glared.
“Nothing to say, little prince?”
Cas was silent. Uriel punched him in the face, and Cas spat blood. And continued to glare.
“Did you knock the sense out of him?” Uriel asked one of the guards.
“He doesn't scream. He just … stares,” the guard whispered.
“It's kind of freaky, boss,” said another in a hushed voice.
Uriel cuffed both of them on the back of the heads. “Enough. Do your work. Even if he's not using his human voice, Michael will hear. We need the bastard to hear.”
“Will Michael come?” asked a guard.
“When we have a train load of hostages, including his own little brother? What do you think?” grinned Uriel. “Nephilim freaks they may be, but the nostalgic bastard is still protective of them.”
“Michael is nigh.”
“Lucifer!” said Uriel, whirling around at the sound of his leader's voice. He was instantly down on one knee, as were the two demonic guards. Demons were stupid, but not that stupid.
“Oh, Uriel, quit groveling. It's boring,” sighed Lucifer.
Cas stared at his brother. Or rather, his brother's ruined vessel. “Meatsuit” was a vulgar demonic term, but this really did look like a stitched together flesh covering that was bursting at the seams. There were inflamed red patches all over Lucifer’s face, and a reddish fluid dripped down from one ear. The skin that was not mottled with infection was dead pale. His eyes were red-rimmed and completely bloodshot.
Cas reflected that Gabe had always told him Lucifer was the most beautiful of all the angels. As well as their Father's favorite. He wondered, not for the first time, about his Father's mental health.
“Why, hello little brother! My, you aren't looking well,” Lucifer told Cas.
“I am looking better than you,” said Cas.
“Ah, it talks! And we all had come to the conclusion that you were slow,” smiled Lucifer.
“We had come to the conclusion that you are balls out insane,” Cas told him.
“Thank the Lord I didn't give up any grace for a permanent human suit. It obviously makes you simple.”
“What are you gonna do when you burst that zipper, Lucifer?” asked Cas.
“I have a solution, one you and your friends have so graciously brought right to my doorstep!” laughed Lucifer.
“What is that?”
Lucifer sidled close. “Sam Winchester.”
“What?” Cas’ mind reeled.
Lucifer drew back, the better to enjoy the effect. “The future is clear. I will crush Michael, and then take the Winchester boy as my new vessel. And then I will reign for ten thousand years. Too bad you won't be around to see it. But I hear Uriel is going to get those lovely wings nicely mounted when this is all over.”
Uriel grinned and nodded.
“How are you going to defeat Michael, brother?” asked Cas, desperately trying to keep calm.
“Oh, look, he can talk politely,” grinned Lucifer. “Thinking of asking for a reprieve, dear Castiel?”
“You won't get it,” snapped Uriel.
“You know,” said Lucifer, “the reason we originally let you go, you and Gabriel, and nobody sought you out, was that none of us really liked you much. Fledglings are usually at least minimally attractive, in their clumsy way. But you?” Lucifer dramatically rolled his eyes.
“Lucifer. What are you planning for Michael?” Cas pressed.
Lucifer brought his lips to Cas’ ear. Cas cringed. Somehow, it was worse than the beatings. “Trust me,” Lucifer whispered.
“You're going to Bobby's, and no arguments this time,” said Dean.
“And how long am I gonna be safe there? Like Rufus says, No Man's Land is Lucifer's next move!” Sam protested.
They were both sitting on the hood of the Impala, waiting for Gabe. Truth be told, what Dean really wanted to do right now was get in and start driving and never stop. There had to be a safe place, somewhere, anywhere.
“Look, Sammy. Let me take care of one thing at a time, OK?” sighed Dean. “We gotta get you safe, and then we gotta go save Cas from Lucifer.”
“How the hell do you think you're gonna take care of Lucifer?”
“Sammy. OK. I dunno. I'm making this up as I go along. But between you and me? It's been all we can do to keep Gabe from zapping off to help Cas. Which would just get them both killed. If you don't wanna do this for you, at least do this for him.”
Sam leaned back and studied Dean skeptically. “I'm supposed to keep a pissed off angel busy?”
“Yeah. Exactly. Distract an antsy angel.”
“Well, when you put it like that...” sighed Sam.
“Are you ready?” asked Gabriel. He came marching out along with Rufus, Crowley and Crowley’s hulking dogs. Dean wondered if they had just had to talk Gabe out of fleeing again.
“Hey, sure, Gabe,” said Sam, hopping down from the car. “Uh, anything I need to do?”
“Wear a jacket,” snapped Gabe, who was already stripping out of his. He left his shirt and coat in a careless heap on the ground.
“Yeah, I've got a jacket on,” said Sam.
“Then let's go,” said Gabe, who was suddenly, miraculously, winged. And then he had Sam in his arms. And then they were off, speeding incredibly fast, Grim and Barghest rushing off yapping after them.
“He might have recommended some Dramamine,” suggested Crowley, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Idiot dogs!” he called. “You are not going to catch an angel. Oh, why do I bother?”
“Damn, when they fly, those guys don't fuck around,” said Dean.
“The wings work by magic,” said Rufus. “In fact, anatomically, they shouldn't even be able to fly.”
“Another completely useless fact to brighten my life,” grumbled Crowley.
Dean watched them go until they disappeared. Magic wings. He remembered the gruesome trophy room at the death camp, and the weird electrical feeling in the room. “Wait,” said Dean. “Wait. I may have an idea.”
“What kind of idea? Oh, let me guess: reckless and stupid?” asked Crowley, patting his dogs as they rounded back.
“Yes,” said Dean.
“That's my favorite kind!” grinned Rufus. “Spill it, kid.”
“Did you guys ever see an old movie called Beau Geste?” asked Dean.
Crowley and Rufus looked at each other.
They listened.
“Young man, that is thoroughly twisted and macabre!” said Crowley. “And I insist you let me help.”
“The boss wants you to see this,” said a guard. And then Cas was thrown to the ground, his chains looped through silver loops on the bare floor of this balcony overlooking a great courtyard of Lucifer’s palatial headquarters.
Cas could only see through one eye, as the other was swollen nearly shut. As an angel, he always healed quickly. But not that quickly. He didn't try to raise his head. The floor was cool at least.
Since they had stopped beating him he had to assume Lucifer's gambit had worked, and Michael was now approaching. In the gaps between the balusters he could see there was a group of angels chained up in the courtyard below. He wondered who they were, as he couldn't see the faces. Were they his comrades in arms? The vanishing train passengers? Both? Who knew? But that gathering would be as a beacon to Michael: so much angelic magic, concentrated in one place.
He supposed he should probably be more curious than he was about Michael. Like Lucifer, Michael was an older brother, and one he did not remember. But all he felt was emptiness. No wonder Gabe had yanked him out of this life. His brother had been right: Cas had no stomach for it.
He wished, for once, he had listened to his brother. He wished he had listened to Dean. He prayed neither of them would try to come after him. More lives wasted in this madness.
“Cas?”
He heard the sound of the guards footsteps, and heard Balthazar's voice, but could not turn his head far enough to actually look at the other man. “My brother is coming,” Cas said simply.
“Wondered why the buggers had stopped whaling on us,” came the reply. “Can you see what's happening.”
“Don't you feel it?”
The approach of an archangel is not something easily ignored. The ground trembled beneath his feet, though his steps were invisible, even to angels like Cas. Lights around the courtyard sputtered and then shattered. The air hummed with electricity. And then suddenly, he was standing, in the guise of John Winchester, a small, slim figure in the middle of the courtyard.
And then, just as abruptly, Lucifer was there too.
“Michael! How pleasant to see you,” cooed Lucifer. “And so unexpected. Thanks for dropping by.”
“You're looking well, brother,” sneered Michael. “What do you want?”
“No, it's rather, what do you want?” said Lucifer. “As you can see, I have rather a lot of guests today,” he explained, gesturing to the group of angels now huddled on the grounds of the courtyard between the two brothers. “Too many, sadly, for a hospitality even as large as mine. So, unfortunately, we may have to let some of these people go.”
“Then release them.”
Lucifer smiled with great cordiality. “Certainly. One one condition: your life for theirs.”
“Never.”
“Well,” said Lucifer, striking a match, “that's really too bad. Because, you see, I have them all sitting in a big pool of holy oil. You're familiar, I assume, with the effects of holy oil on angels? If not, a little demonstration-”
“No! Lucifer, are you mad?” said Michael.
“I am quite sane. But it comforts me so to hear you worry for my mental health.” He held up the match and watched the tiny flame dance at the tip. “Shame to waste all those lovely wings. Uriel is a big fan, you understand.”
“Lucifer, put down the match,” urged Michael. “We can talk about this.”
“Can we? We've had eons to talk, brother. Things just never seem to get resolved.”
“Lucifer.”
“It's no secret why I crave attention, being brought up in this dysfunctional family. I have a tendency to act out,” tutted Lucifer.
“Lucifer.”
“Antisocial personality disorder. That's what they call it.”
“Lucifer!” bellowed Michael.
And then Michael took a step forward.
“Put down the match,” Michael repeated.
“Anything for you, big brother,” grinned Lucifer, suddenly flicking the match at Michael.
In an instant the ground beneath Michael's feet erupted in bright orange flames. Up overhead, Cas cringed as Michael threw his head back and screamed. The air suddenly stunk with the smell of burning flesh. Michael's entire body glowed orange, and then red, and then the courtyard was bathed in a glow of white light.
And then, Michael was no more. A scorch mark on the ground. A giant crack now ran all the way across the courtyard.
“So long, brother dear,” sighed Lucifer. “Will have to get those tiles fixed,” he added.
“Do you want us to unchain these angels?” asked one of his lieutenants.
“Hrm,” said Lucifer, taking out his matchbook. “Seems a great waste of holy oil.”
Up on the balcony, Balthazar asked, “Oh god, tell me he's not-”
Cas' attention was elsewhere though. “Balthazar,” he whispered. “Do you feel that?”
Balthazar tore his attention from Lucifer and cast out his senses. “Angels,” he said. “A whole bloody lot of them.”
Uriel had rushed down into the courtyard. “Lucifer!” he shouted. Lucifer, still holding the matchbook, listened intently. He seemed to forget about the matches as Uriel whispered in his ear.
“Quickly, everybody!” Lucifer shouted. “Forces are massing to the east! It must be their last stand! It's our chance to crush the Michaelistas once and for all! Rally around now! Come on!”
“Everything set?” asked Dean for the thousandth time. He surveyed the field. It looked like a scarecrow convention, lots of crudely made mannequins standing up everywhere.
“You're lucky we have people who can scrounge,” Rufus told him. They both watched a heavily laden truck pull up.
“Here we go,” said Dean as Crowley jumped out and, together with his two massive dogs, strode forward. “Were you able to convince your people to help?” he asked the demon.
“They were all quite reluctant up to the point when I mentioned kicking Lucifer in the balls, at which point they became, well, if not enthusiasts, at least they evinced cooperation. Oh, and also, you are a lunatic.”
“Thanks, Crowley,” said Dean.
“You think it'll work?” asked Rufus.
“No, not in the least,” smiled Crowley. “But what it will do is annoy the hell out of Lucifer.”
Safe for the moment in No Man’s Land, Sam was awkwardly shaking Bobby Singer's hand. “I thank you for this, Mr. Singer.”
“It's Bobby. And you're brother's a good man,” he said. “Any kin of his is always welcome here.” He turned to Gabe, who had collapsed to a couch, head in hands. “Now, Gabe, I'm gonna fetch you a drink, and you're gonna tell me everything,” he told Gabe.
“There's nothing to tell,” sobbed Gabe. “They're torturing, him, Bobby.”
“They're sending a message,” said Bobby softly, sitting down on a pile of books across from Gabe. “This is how they want you to react.”
“Dean wanted to do a rescue mission,” said Sam lamely. “But, he had no fucking idea. Really.”
“They'll kill him,” whispered Gabe. He reeled as Bobby grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently.
“Gabe, listen to me,” said Bobby. “Those sad fuckers are not killing my boy. Now get your damn angelic head out of your ass, and we figure out a way. And we do it now.”
“Wait, Bobby, I have something,” said Sam.
“Well, spit it out, boy,” said Bobby.
“Bobby. Those symbols all over the wall are warding against everything, right?”
“Yeah.”
“When I was in the POW camp, I saw a guy try and escape. An angel, though I didn’t know it at the time. And it seemed like, well, there wasn’t much left of the poor bastard.”
Bobby nodded. “Kid, I've made a career out of picking up after sad bastards who tried to breach that wall. You think Lucifer would fall for that crap? Is that where you’re headed?” he asked. Sam nodded. “He’s crazy, not stupid.”
“But Bobby, we got the bait,” said Gabe, nodding at Sam, who nodded back.
“What?” asked Bobby. “No! We’re not gonna use you to bait Lucy, son. What if it doesn’t work.”
“Bobby, I’ve been listening to the other angels,” said Gabe. “Lucifer's vessel is busted. He doesn't just want Sam. He needs him. And soon.”
Bobby scowled at them. He put his head in his hands. And then he looked up. “All right. I might have a spell. Crazy damned bastards….”
Cas steeled himself for the pain. He kept his head down on the table he was chained to. He would not let these bastards see his tears.
He heard the terrible high pitched squealing of the bone saw firing up. He had heard the screams of his brothers and sisters, and seen the lifeless bodies afterwards. Usually, you didn’t survive them taking your wings.
Not that you’d want to.
“You’re a pretty one, aren’t you?” came the whisper in his hear. “This pair will decorate Master Uriel's trophy room.”
With some effort, Cas turned his head towards the voice.
He spat in the demon’s eye, and got punched in the head but good for it. Blood ran down his face, and he grinned at the demon. It reared back.
“Wanna fight? Loosen the chains?” Cas taunted.
“Take his wings!” the demon yelled. “Take them now!”
Cas turned his face back into the cool of the table. Broken and chained, and they still fear me, he thought. Perhaps it was not such a bad way to go.
And then a crash, and a scream. He heard the saw blade go whirring off in the wrong direction. Shouts and chaos.
“Don’t worry, Cas, we got you!”
“Dean!” said Cas. He turned his head back and blinked at Dean Winchester, who was, against all probability, currently peeking over the table.
More crashes and shouting. Dean ducked, and there was a scream of, “Oh god dammit!” that sounded very much like the demon Crowley’s voice. “I thought your brilliant diversion was supposed to send all the guards packing?” rasped Crowley.
“So they left a couple guys here? Who knew?” said Dean.
“A couple guys with bloody big weapons!” yelled Crowley.
Dean poked his head back up over the table.
“A rescue?” asked Cas.
“Uh. Yeah,” said Dean.
“Good job,” said Cas dryly.
“Unlock his bloody chains! I’m fucking bleeding here!” came Crowley’s cry. Dean was already taking out a lock pick.
“Give us a minute,” Dean told Cas.
“I’ll wait right here,” Cas sighed. He heard a small click and felt some of the chains loosen.
“I thought you were good at this!” Crowley grumped at Dean. Another shot rang out, and they ducked.
“I thought you said you were a crack shot,” Dean told Crowley, jiggling at another lock.
“I am even with only one arm, they’re just up on the bloody balcony,” grumbled Crowley, awkwardly holding his shotgun. He felt to where his arm was bleeding. “Damn! I liked this suit.”
“Almost done,” said Dean as another chain fell. Another shot whizzed by him. “Shit!” he cried, diving for cover again.
“Just loose the angel,” barked Crowley.
“Then it will be three of us pinned down,” said Dean.
“My dear Officer Winchester, have you ever witnessed an angel in full fighting mode?”
“He’s wounded, Crowley. We’re gonna have to get him out. Oh, there we go!” he said as the last chain fell. “Cas are you…?”
But there was no one on the table.
Dean turned his head to the sound of a scream: two soldiers went toppling off a high balcony.
“Ha! Serves you right, fuckers! Ruin my suit will you!” yelled Crowley.
A shot rang out. Dean ducked.
“That corner!” Crowley yelled.
Dean saw a dark blur hurtling towards the corner. Another demon screamed and fell to the floor.
A door opened, and two demons holding shotguns appeared.
“Oh shit,” said Dean.
And then a dark shadow was in back of the demons. Cas picked them both up by their collars and threw them clean across the room, where they fell, unconscious, in a heap.
Wings unfurled, blood dripping down his face and chest, Cas stalked across the room to where Dean and Crowley were still huddled.
Dean watched, amazed.
And, to be frank, sort of turned on.
“Is that all of them?” Cas asked.
“Uh, yeah,” said Dean, trying to restart his rather distracted brain. “Good job.”
“Thank you for the rescue,” said Cas, pulling Dean to his feet. He grabbed two shotguns off the fallen demons, tossing one to Crowley. “Stay behind us, Dean.”
“Wait just a damned minute!” said Dean, scowling and crossing his arms. “I'm here. This is my rescue plan. I'm pasting demons too!”
Crowley and Cas exchanged a look.
Just at that moment, and demon came charging into the room. Cas threw his rifle butt into its stomach, and then Crowley cracked it over the head. Crowley caught the gun as it fell, and handed it over to Dean. “There we go,” he said. “Better?”
“Yeah, actually,” grinned Dean, happily cocking the weapon.
“We've got to get clear of the headquarters before my teleportation will work again,” said Crowley as they began to walk.
“I don't think I can fly carrying two,” said Cas.
“So we'll fight our way out?” asked Dean.
“That seems the plan. Such as it is,” confessed Crowley.
A brace of demons clouded the air with a thick, pungent black smoke. They scented blood. Angelic blood.
They hurtled eastwards, towards the angelic forces massing against them.
“There they are!” somebody shouted. It was difficult to tell who, from within the writhing mass. “Dead ahead.”
There, down below, silhouetted in the breaking dawn, a mass of angels such as had rarely been seen on earth, wings unfurled, waiting.
“What are they waiting for?” someone else thought to ask.
Lucifer, whose glorious Presence personally led the battle today, cried, “Charge!”
And the demons set upon them, diving low.
“Why aren't they rising to meet us?” someone shouted. Angels preferred aerial battles. On the ground, this would be a slaughter. So much the better.
Demons have a heightened sense of smell, which somewhat makes up for dim eyesight. This is why several dozen of the winged beings were cut asunder before anyone noticed the wings were only dead things, sewn onto crude scarecrows. The prizes from the death camp, which had been so carefully preserved and laid out, had been lashed to hundreds of lifeless mannequins, standing silent guard in a field.
Lucifer, who had alit in the middle of the field, stood in impotent rage, his trophies now mocking him. “I'll kill them all,” he screamed.
“But they're already dead,” said one demon to another. The other demon didn't reply, as an enraged Lucifer turned and smote the both of them.
“This way?” asked Crowley.
“Do I look like a map of Satan's palace?” asked Dean.
“Someone ought pay attention whilst your friend is smiting things,” said Crowley, watching Cas once again make mincemeat of a brace of demons with his flashing sword. “Show off,” he told Cas when he again stood before them.
“We are low on ammo,” said Cas, expertly twirling the sword. “I don't need to reload this.”
“I was just telling our officer of the law that we ought reckon our location, vis-a-vis getting the hell out of here,” said Crowley. “Before Lucifer figures out he's been deceived and comes back in an even more rotten mood than usual.”
“Yeah,” said Dean. “Careful where we're headed. Wouldn't wanna wander into any place nasty.”
Cas kicked open a door.
Uriel stood before them.
“Tsk, talk about nasty,” quipped Crowley.
“Crowley, it's been a while,” growled Uriel.
“Not hardly long enough, if you want my opinion,” said Crowley.
“This dude's an angel?” asked Dean. “Maybe we should....” He gestured back out the door.
“You want my wings, Uriel?” asked Cas, heedlessly striding forward. “Why don't you come get them.”
“I'll take your heart as well,” said Uriel. Swords flashed and, when Cas stood back, Uriel had Cas' blade sticking out of his chest.
Dean gulped, but Uriel, despite the blood, remained standing.
“Idiot!” said Uriel, pulling out Cas' sword and dropping it to the floor. “You can't kill me with that!”
“I can't?” asked Cas.
“You need one of these!” said Uriel. He flashed his own sword and charged.
“Cas!” shouted Dean. “Watch out.”
Cas waited, staring down Uriel. And then at the last moment he stepped aside, tripping the bigger angel.
Uriel fell, and Cas was on him, wresting the blade from his grasp and then jumping on top of him, stabbing him, once again, in the chest with his own sword.
This time Uriel shuddered. His body spasmed, and, as Cas hopped off, a white light poured out of his eyes and mouth.
And then he was silent.
“Thanks for the tip,” said Cas, calmly pulling the bloody blade out of Uriel's chest, wiping the blood on his pantleg.
“Is that an archangel blade?” asked Crowley, reaching out to touch it.
“Looks like,” said Cas, snatching it away with a warning look towards Crowley.
“Uriel was an archangel?” asked Dean.
“No,” said Cas.
“Wait. Then, how did he score one of the cool swords?” asked Dean.
“Probably pulled it off a dead archangel,” smiled Crowley.
“One of my family,” sighed Cas.
“Wait, that doesn't make sense!” said Dean, waving at Uriel's lifeless body. “This guy was a pussy!”
“Maybe the murderer came as a friend,” said Crowley. “Oldest trick in the book.”
“Or maybe the murderer came as a brother,” said Cas. “Is something happening out there?” he asked. The room they were in now had a balcony, and Cas started to make for it.
“Mmm, yes, I smell angel. Live ones, not that bloke,” said Crowley, following Cas. Dean shrugged and walked after them.
The balcony overlooked the courtyard. And there was a commotion going on down below.
“Gabe!” said Cas. “What is he doing here?”
Dean hastened to the edge. “He's got Sam,” he said. “What the hell...”
“Lucifer, where the fuck are you?” yelled Gabe, who was holding a terrified looking Sam by the collar.
The ground trembled.
“Gabriel. You are a dead man,” said Lucifer, who now stood before Gabe in his oozing vessel. “Did you just send me on a wild goose chase?”
“Five words,” said Gabe. “I have Sam Winchester, asshole.”
“No, Gabe, don't do this!” said Castiel, who watched in horror from up above.
“I will strike you down!” warned Lucifer, extending a hand, palm forward.
“He's gotten smitey!” Dean told Cas. “Cas, we gotta do something.”
“Smite me, and you paste your new ride, dimwit!” laughed Gabe. And, giving Sam a tug, he zipped off into the sky like a manic shuttlecock.
“Everyone!” screamed Lucifer. “After them! I want Sam Winchester alive!” And then he was lost in a miasma of black smoke.
Dean stumbled back from the balcony, coughing. “Where is he going?” he demanded of Cas. “Where is he taking Sam?”
“I think I know,” said Cas, nodding at Crowley. “You said clear of the building?”
“I think so,” said Crowley.
“Stay here,” Cas told Crowley. And then he had Dean under the arms and they were hurtling down into the courtyard in some kind of crazy barely controlled fall. Dean was too damned scared to even scream.
“You still have that lock pick you used on me?” asked Cas.
“Uh, yeah,” said Dean, hoping he wouldn't puke.
“Unlock them,” said Cas, indicating the angels who were still massed in the courtyard.
A shot ricocheted in the courtyard, nearly missing Dean. “What, all of them?”
“All of them.”
“You realize there's a sniper up there. Uh, where am I gonna-? Cas!” he yelled. But Cas was already winging his way back to the balcony. Cas grabbed Crowley and took off like a shot. Dean looked around nervously. “They could've left me more ammo,” he grumbled. He crouched and then, dodging sniper fire, ran over to where the angels were chained up. “Uh, I don't suppose any of you guys are soldiers?” he asked.
There were some looks exchanged. “I am,” said one.
“Well, uh, that's good,” said Dean. He opened chains on that guy, and suddenly, he was gone. There was a scream, and then a thud, from one of the places shots had been coming.
“Crowley’s right, these guys are handy in a fight,” said Dean.
Sam was getting pretty fucking tired of being flown around. It was cool at first, but there really was a pretty distinct down side to flying. It was cold as hell, he thought he might be getting an ear infection, and then there were the bugs in your teeth.
Oh, and also, this time Lucifer and about a million of his demons were after him.
He squinted ahead. Goggles. If he ever had to do this again, god help him, he would remember to bring some damn goggles. And a nice warm wool hat. And maybe some long underwear, like the kind you take skiing.
“Are they close?” he yelled at Gabe, hoping he wouldn't swallow another bug.
“Close enough. Hang on.”
“Don't worry, nowhere else to go at thirty thousand fucking feet!”
Gabe laughed. “We're nowhere near that high, or you wouldn't be able to breathe!”
“Well don't go any higher!”
“There's the wall.”
Sam peered ahead. The first time, Gabe had taken him to one of the more deserted areas of the border, where the wall was nothing more than a chain link fence. They had actually alit, and scrambled underneath a portion of fence, after Gabe had paused to sprinkle on a few spells. But this looked like the backside of the highest portion, where the wall was all concrete and razor wire.
“Are they ready for us?” Sam pleaded.
“Don't worry!'
“I have nothing else to do but worry!”
“Do you like flying, Dean?” asked Cas.
“Shit! Don't sneak up on me like that, Cas!” said Dean, who had been standing in the same courtyard where Cas and Crowley had left him. There were empty chains at his feet. And it had gotten a whole lot quieter. “I think your angel buddies have this area secure. Where the hell did you go?”
“Dropping off Crowley,” said Cas. “He’s going to teleport to Ellen’s place to let them know what’s going on. And you didn't answer my question.”
“Judging from you yanking me off the balcony? I fucking hate flying. And also, I hate it.”
“Oh,” said Cas. He peered at Dean. “Well, there's no other way,” he said, grabbing Dean under the armpits and taking off.
“Why did you ask?” shouted Dean as they ascended.
“Wanted to be polite,” Cas told him. “Short trip.”
“Shit.” The ground was rushing by at a dizzying pace, so Dean squinted ahead. He utterly despised flying and had no fucking idea how his idiot brother got a notion in his head to become a pilot. But this: this was very different. It came fast, like a video game, but there was added the soothing rhythmic beat of wings. He remembered Rufus' comment that there should be no way for an angel to actually fly, and did not take comfort from this knowledge.
“So where the hell are we headed?” Dean asked.
“Harvelle’s.”
“Gonna clarify?”
“Busy flying.” And Dean had to imagine the grin. He spotted something in the distance. It was another group of angels. They paced themselves with Cas and flew closer.
“Got a passenger?” asked Balthazar.
“Didn't get your wings?” Cas asked.
“I'll keep them!” Balthazar laughed. “You the one who got Uriel?”
“Got Uriel. Got his sword.”
“Good boy!”
Dean noticed there were more angels around him now. “Did you guys send out the Bat signal or something?” he asked.
“Lucifer's in flight,” said Cas. “World's biggest Bat signal.”
“We're gathering reinforcements at Harvelle’s,” Balthazar told Cas. “And I'm supposed to pass on a message. From your brother. Bobby says hi.”
Dean suddenly felt Cas' arms tighten around him. “Come on,” he whispered to Dean, and then he saw Harvelle’s in the distance.
“Tell me we’re landing,” said Dean, but then they were already on the ground. “Oh, thank God!” he sighed. The roadhouse was a hive of activity.
“Yeah, those too. They might come in handy,” Ellen was yelling at a couple of guys bearing a crate.
“You heard then?” Cas asked her.
“Cas!” she shouted, giving him a quick hug. “Yeah, Lucifer’s making for the wall, and we’re gonna meet him with everything we’ve got.”
“Gabe used my brother … on purpose?” asked Dean. “Oh, god, Sammy!”
“Your friend Bobby has a plan to trap Lucifer on the other side of the wall,” said Ellen.
“Bobby is lacking in sanity!” said Cas proudly.
There was a whiff of sulfur, and Crowley appeared. “Oh, not more crates! I have a tricky back!”
“It’s needed, Crowley!” said Ellen.
“All right, but there better be some nice whiskey in it for me. Asmodeus!” he yelled, a second or two before the demon had actually appeared at his side.
“Yeah boss?”
“More crates to the wall.”
“Got it boss,” said Asmodeus, heading towards the crates and then disappearing, along with them.
“He’s zapping people to the wall now?” asked Dean, gazing longingly at the Impala, which was still parked in Ellen’s parking lot.
“Sadly, there is not sufficient time to drive, Dean,” Cas told him. He looked to the sky. “I should get to the wall and help my brothers.”
“Wait a minute, Cas. Crowley!” said Dean.
“Yes, what is it?” the demon asked Dean, clearly happy to be relieved of crate transportation duty for a moment.
“Sammy was in the air force, and he told me they used to fly planes over the wall. You just have to paint on the right squiggles.”
“Oh, yes, the correct warding signs would counter the effect of the protection spells,” said Cas. “But how would you take a car…?” he trailed off as Dean grinned at him. “Oh you’re not going to plead with me to transport that battle tank actually through the wall are you?” groused Crowley.
Dean shrugged. “I thought you were the king demon or something.”
Crowley scowled. “Now you are appealing to my vanity?”
“Sure. Why not?” Dean grinned.
Crowley heightened the intensity of his scowl, but was only met with a smile.
“All right, get in,” he grumbled.
“Cas!” shouted Dean. “Quick! Lose the wings and grab a paint can.”
“OK, Sammy. Your career as live bait is about to come to an end.”
“I hope that's a good thing Gabe!” Sam shouted. He was fucking freezing.
“Arms and legs inside until the angel comes to a full and complete stop.”
“Quit wisecracking and fly!” yelled Sam. But then, mercifully, he was on the ground.
“You seen Lucy?” asked Bobby, who was standing nearby, monitoring a pair of binoculars.
“He was right on my ass,” said Gabe.
They all turned and watched anxiously for a long moment. The wall loomed overhead. It seemed especially tall today, as there was a menacing bank of dark clouds just overhead. But at one point, there was a distinctive gap in the clouds that shown through blue sky.
The ground rattled and lightning crashed. Lucifer had come through the gap.
Bobby threw a towel over the pot of weird and fragrant ingredients he'd been burning, extinguishing the flames. He looked up, grinning. “Take that, motherfuckers,” he whispered.
And then, as if a flame was snuffed out, the opening in the clouds just above the wall suddenly zipped up tight.
Some of the demons, mostly the ones closest to Lucifer, did not or could not slow down, and passed right though the dark cloud, following Lucifer. Their screams were heard for miles as every enchantment that Lucifer had so painstakingly built into his wall suddenly came crashing down upon them, and eyes boiled and skin fried and hearts exploded and entrails came sloshing out mouths and anuses. It was glorious and bloody disgusting.
The next wave of demons scattered and reversed, the dark miasma of their presence breaking like a wave on a beach. They turned.
And came face to face with an angry legion of angels.
Down below, on the Eastern side of the wall, Jo Harvelle jumped up on a packing crate. “Everybody! Loose everything! Everything! Now!!” she screamed. Suddenly there was a cacophony of Latin, Enochian, Greek, Cantonese, Gaelic, Hindi, Persian, Navajo, Tagalog, and just about any other tongue used in the human or spirit world. Demons screamed and fell out of the air, victims of every anti-demonic spell the world had ever known.
Lucifer and a very few of his demons alit in No Man's Land, where they encountered a rather motley assortment of humans bearing shotguns.
Lucifer strode forward as, by his side, several of his demons fell to the salt buckshot. He walked right up to one of the gunmen, sighed and plucked her rifle from her. And then he twisted it in a pretzel and tossed it away.
And then with a sweep of his arm, sent a whole line of gunmen flying.
“Gabriel. I believe you have something for me.” Gabe was standing in front of Sam Winchester, as if that would do any good. “Oh, come on, I've flown all this way. I might get cranky.” Lucifer glared. “How about now, little brother.”
“You're not my brother,” said Gabriel, who was holding a sword.
“Well, then, I'll feel much less guilty when I smite you.” Lucifer grinned and flicked his hand, and Gabe went flying. “Hello, Sam. Time you and I got better acquainted.”
“Never,” said Sam.
“Sadly, you don't have much choice in the matter.”
Lucifer screamed as he was knocked 20 feet by a 1967 Chevy Impala that had just appeared out of nowhere.
The car was covered from bumper to bumper in sigils.
Dean jumped out of the driver's seat.
“Whoa, talk about good timing,” said Sam.
Cas jumped out of the back. He flashed the archangel sword he had stolen from Uriel and flew at Lucifer, who seemed disoriented. Lucifer flicked out a blade of his own, as Cas was standing too close for him to easily flick away.
“Cas, be careful!” Dean shouted.
“Stab him in the balls!” called Crowley.
“Is that useful?” asked Dean.
“I just so despise Lucifer,” confessed Crowley.
Lucifer was stronger, but Cas was much quicker, and, after snapping Lucifer's blade away, Cas stabbed his brother through the chest. He stepped back.
Lucifer glowered. “You idiot,” he growled. He grabbed the blade, pulled it out of himself and cast it aside.
“I am having terrible fucking luck today,” Cas sighed.
“You can't kill me with an archangel blade. You're not an archangel. You're a pathetic piece of trash!”
“You know what? You have far too many damn rules for these swords!” Cas grumbled, crossing his arms defiantly.
Lucifer made a sweeping gesture and Cas flew back, slamming into the Impala's fender.
“Gabe!” shouted Bobby. “Now!”
Gabe flew up behind Lucifer, grabbed him under the arms and dragged him about ten feet. Lucifer wrested free and easily tossed Gabe aside.
Then Bobby tossed a lit match to the ground near Lucifer's feet.
Lucifer looked in confusion at the circle of flames now licking around him.
“In case this is news to you, buddy, that's holy oil,” grinned Bobby
“I wouldn't try to cross it,” said Gabe. “Of course, who am I to offer advice to my all-knowing older bro?”
“I won’t forget this, Gabriel!” Lucifer told him.
“God, I hope not,” grinned Gabe.
“You're under arrest, Lucifer,” said Sheriff Jody Mills, who arrived brandishing a shotgun.
Suddenly there was a flurry of activity around Lucifer. Men carried in a large old desk and chair, and other random people were bringing in deck chairs and picnic blankets, along with packed lunches and even a beach ball.
“What the hell is going on now?” demanded Lucifer.
“Legal proceedings will ensue,” said Jody.
“All rise!” barked the bailiff. The crowd rose to its feet. “The court of the Honorable Judge Albert Swearengen, Magistrate of the Southwest Division of the Union of Unincorporated Free Territories, is now in session.” A black-robed figure sauntered in and sat down at the desk, bringing out a flask and setting it on the desk beside his gavel.
“I demand to know what's going on,” yelled Lucifer.
“If you're Lucifer,” said Swearengen, banging his gavel, “then you, sir, are now on trial for crimes against humanity and angelkind, and the murder of your family members. Swift justice!”
“This is an outrage!” said Lucifer.
“Lucy, I got one rule in my court of law,” Swearengen told him. “Sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up.”
“I don't even have a chairl!” Lucifer barked.
Someone tossed a folding chair into the circle of holy fire. It hit Lucifer in the head.
Lucifer had, in the end, refused to sit in the chair, and so sat sullenly, cross-legged on the ground in the middle of the holy fire, where an honor guard of angels now stood in watch along with Jody.
At one point, someone had tossed the beach ball to him. He had burst it, which did not aid his already low standing with the local crowd.
“Is this trial gonna take a long time, your honor?” Dean asked Swearengen, who was standing taking a long drag from his flask, leaning back against his desk.
“I guaran-fucking-tee it, son,” grinned the judge. “See that you don't bust that body before we're done, there, Lucifer,” he taunted. “I got witnesses coming in from hundreds of miles.”
Lucifer glowered, but said nothing. Swearengen chuckled and walked away.
Dean bumped shoulders with Sam, and they both walked away from Lucifer. “God. It gives me the shivers just looking at him,” said Sam.
“Worse than clowns?” grinned Dean.
“He was gonna wear me around? Like I'm a Muppet or something?”
“Hey, I dig Kermit,” laughed Dean. “It's not easy being green.”
“What if he gets out, Dean?”
“Well, according to Bobby, he doesn't have a lot of time left in that guy he's wearing.”
“I'd just feel better if I were somewhere away from here,” said Sam.
“You wanna go back home?” asked Dean.
“Well, I dunno,” said Sam. “Wouldn't seem much like home if you weren't there. And the West, you know.... They're rebuilding.”
“Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“You're not fixing on looking up that demon girl, are you?”
“What? Who? Me?”
Dean raised his eyes heavenwards in time to see Gabe and Cas landing nearby.
“We got Lucifer's forces pretty much routed on the other side,” Gabe reported.
“And people have already begun to tear down the wall,” said Cas.
“So, what are you gonna do when this is over?” Dean asked Gabe.
“What do you mean?”
“You gonna go back to the strip mall, be a local shaman?” asked Dean.
Gabe shook his head. “Uh, no, stupid as it sounds....” He trailed off, and pointed upwards.
“You’re going back up?” asked Dean.
“Yeah, gonna see if there’s anything left in heaven,” sighed Gabe. “A bunch of the guys wanna go with me. I mean, the few guys we have left.”
“You don’t gotta, you know,” said Dean.
“Yeah, I gotta,” said Gabe. “They think I’m their fucking leader now! Dumb shits. I mean, would you follow me? Because, I sure as hell wouldn’t follow me!”
Dean smiled. “I think you’ll do OK.”
“I will suck major balls!” said Gabe, who sighed deeply.
“So,” said Dean, turning to Cas. “Are you, uh, going with him?”
Cas started to speak, but looked uncertain. He glanced at Gabe, and then glanced back at Dean, his eyes wide. “I…”
“No no no no no no no!” said Gabe, putting an arm around Cas.
“No?” asked Cas.
“Naw, kid, you gotta stay here. That’s one lesson we learned, can’t keep the whole family in that crap ass palace. You need to stay down here. Be my eyes and wings! I’ll appoint you my royal ambassador for … earthly crap, or something.”
“Can I still work for Bobby?” asked Cas.
“Yeah, sure, don’t quit your day job. I got no idea how long this angelic goddam prince gig will last before the proletariat goes all 1917 on my ass.”
Cas smiled. “I guess I’ll stay down here,” he told Dean.
“Aw, shit!” said Gabe, who suddenly had a far off look. “We got some black-eyes. Come on, bro. We’re needed again.” Gabe didn’t wait, but zipped off.
Cas lingered a moment. “I’ll, uh, see you later, Dean?”
“Better believe you will,” grinned Dean. Cas grinned too, and then he was a dot in the sky.
“Well, I figured it would happen,” said Bobby.
Dean turned. “Oh. Uh. Bobby. Hey. I didn’t see you walk up.” His grin turned to a blush. “Uh. I dunno if Cas told you….”
“Boy doesn’t need to tell me anything, ya dumb shit,” sighed Bobby. “I could tell from the instant he carried you back to my home. Well, good for you. But I’ll tell you a couple interesting facts about angels, as you may not know. One is they mate for life…”
“Oh,” said Dean.
“And the other is they ain’t favorably inclined about sharing.”
Sam burst out laughing, clapping Dean on the shoulder. “Awesome! Bobby, that is just perfect.”
“Well, uh, OK,” said Dean, who was looking rather perplexed. “Uh, is there anywhere around here I could get beer? I think I need one. Or two or seven.”
“Come on,” said Bobby. “Guess you boys are family now….”
Many days later, Cas leaned back and followed a shooting star across the night sky.
“Still trying to catch one?” asked Dean. He tightened his grip around the angel, who was lying in his lap the hood of the Impala. Cas had finally been convinced to change out of the threadbare suit, but was still wearing the big overcoat Gabe had given him.
“I am thinking. About my brother,” said Cas.
“Have you heard from him? What’s it like? Up there?” asked Dean.
“Gabe says it’s … tacky.”
“Wait, tacky?”
“Everything’s gold or silver, there’s red carpets, flocked wallpaper….”
“Ha! Heaven is decorated like a whorehouse?”
Cas blinked. He felt Dean jerking with laughter. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of it that way. Also, there is no ice cream.”
“No ice cream in heaven? Aw, so it must be hell for Gabe.”
“Perhaps I shall go and bring him some licorice.”
“Am I interrupting anything?” asked Sam, who hopped up on the hood beside them without waiting for an answer.
“Would you care if you were?” asked Dean.
“So, I was talking to Rufus…” Sam continued.
“How can you even see that guy through all the cigarette smoke?” grumbled Dean.
“I guess he hit it off real well with Bobby,” said Sam.
“Yes, they are thick as thieves,” said Cas.
“And anyway,” said Sam, “Rufus tells me Ellen is trying to gather together what hunters are still around. Still a lot of ex-Luciferites on the loose, causing trouble.”
“How is this of relevance to my life?” grumbled Dean.
“We could offer assistance,” said Cas. “Gabriel has said he wishes me to monitor conditions down here.”
“And you listened to Gabe?” asked Dean.
“Rufus says there’s been skirmishes between Crowley’s people and the black-eyes. Zachariah is rumored to be still at large, so it’s thought they’re organizing under him.”
“Wait,” said Dean. “So we’d be jumping in the middle of a gang war? Between angels and demons?”
“Yep!” said Sam.
“You don’t have to sound so happy about it,” Dean told him.
“This sounds like an acceptable occupation,” said Cas.
“For who?” asked Dean.
“Me and Cas!” said Sam.
“Perhaps if you play your cards right, we will allow you to be our driver,” Cas told him.
“Dean is an awful card player,” said Sam.
“That is true,” said Cas.
Dean heaved a sigh. “I’m supposed to drive you guys around while you….”
“Save people!” said Sam.
“And hunt demons,” concluded Cas.
Dean considered this for a while. “OK. I get to pick the music. And no ice cream in the car!”
“Deal!” said Sam, who slipped off the car. “You guys can continue with whatever you were doing.” He headed inside.
“What were we doing again,” said Dean, who pulled Cas around to face him.
“I was catching falling stars.”
“I already got one,” grinned Dean.
Cas blinked at him.
“What?” said Dean.
“That’s a little clichéd, isn’t it?”
“Too fucking bad. You’re stuck with me.”
Cas grinned. And kissed him.
This entry was originally posted at http://tikific.dreamwidth.org/124397.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Cas; Sam, Bobby, Gabriel, Rufus, Balthazar, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Uriel, Jody Mills, Ruby.
Warnings: Cursing. Sexual situations. Descriptions of violence, especially in later chapters. Some light hints of Sam/Ruby.
Word Count: 45,000 total
Summary: The apocalypse has come. Lucifer and Michael burned down heaven in their madness, and our own world has been rent in two. Much of the United States now roils in a state of constant warfare. When Sam, a fighter pilot working for the Michaelistas, is shot down over enemy lines, Dean, an ex-cop, risks everything to search for him. Both brothers find some help along the way from creatures they never knew existed.
Notes: This is set in a post-apocalyptic AU, but it is NOT the Endverse. The character of Al Swearengen has been shamelessly stolen, with love, from the Deadwood 'verse.
“Make no marks on the wings. I want them.”
“Yes, boss.”
Uriel grinned and greedily fanned out one of Cas' dark wings. “You'll be a lovely prize up on my wall when we're done with you,” he grinned, leering at the angel chained up in front of him. “The big boss made me abandon my lovely little trophy room. Did you see it? But it doesn’t matter. And don’t fret, I'll have only the best people mount them.”
Cas glared.
“Nothing to say, little prince?”
Cas was silent. Uriel punched him in the face, and Cas spat blood. And continued to glare.
“Did you knock the sense out of him?” Uriel asked one of the guards.
“He doesn't scream. He just … stares,” the guard whispered.
“It's kind of freaky, boss,” said another in a hushed voice.
Uriel cuffed both of them on the back of the heads. “Enough. Do your work. Even if he's not using his human voice, Michael will hear. We need the bastard to hear.”
“Will Michael come?” asked a guard.
“When we have a train load of hostages, including his own little brother? What do you think?” grinned Uriel. “Nephilim freaks they may be, but the nostalgic bastard is still protective of them.”
“Michael is nigh.”
“Lucifer!” said Uriel, whirling around at the sound of his leader's voice. He was instantly down on one knee, as were the two demonic guards. Demons were stupid, but not that stupid.
“Oh, Uriel, quit groveling. It's boring,” sighed Lucifer.
Cas stared at his brother. Or rather, his brother's ruined vessel. “Meatsuit” was a vulgar demonic term, but this really did look like a stitched together flesh covering that was bursting at the seams. There were inflamed red patches all over Lucifer’s face, and a reddish fluid dripped down from one ear. The skin that was not mottled with infection was dead pale. His eyes were red-rimmed and completely bloodshot.
Cas reflected that Gabe had always told him Lucifer was the most beautiful of all the angels. As well as their Father's favorite. He wondered, not for the first time, about his Father's mental health.
“Why, hello little brother! My, you aren't looking well,” Lucifer told Cas.
“I am looking better than you,” said Cas.
“Ah, it talks! And we all had come to the conclusion that you were slow,” smiled Lucifer.
“We had come to the conclusion that you are balls out insane,” Cas told him.
“Thank the Lord I didn't give up any grace for a permanent human suit. It obviously makes you simple.”
“What are you gonna do when you burst that zipper, Lucifer?” asked Cas.
“I have a solution, one you and your friends have so graciously brought right to my doorstep!” laughed Lucifer.
“What is that?”
Lucifer sidled close. “Sam Winchester.”
“What?” Cas’ mind reeled.
Lucifer drew back, the better to enjoy the effect. “The future is clear. I will crush Michael, and then take the Winchester boy as my new vessel. And then I will reign for ten thousand years. Too bad you won't be around to see it. But I hear Uriel is going to get those lovely wings nicely mounted when this is all over.”
Uriel grinned and nodded.
“How are you going to defeat Michael, brother?” asked Cas, desperately trying to keep calm.
“Oh, look, he can talk politely,” grinned Lucifer. “Thinking of asking for a reprieve, dear Castiel?”
“You won't get it,” snapped Uriel.
“You know,” said Lucifer, “the reason we originally let you go, you and Gabriel, and nobody sought you out, was that none of us really liked you much. Fledglings are usually at least minimally attractive, in their clumsy way. But you?” Lucifer dramatically rolled his eyes.
“Lucifer. What are you planning for Michael?” Cas pressed.
Lucifer brought his lips to Cas’ ear. Cas cringed. Somehow, it was worse than the beatings. “Trust me,” Lucifer whispered.
“You're going to Bobby's, and no arguments this time,” said Dean.
“And how long am I gonna be safe there? Like Rufus says, No Man's Land is Lucifer's next move!” Sam protested.
They were both sitting on the hood of the Impala, waiting for Gabe. Truth be told, what Dean really wanted to do right now was get in and start driving and never stop. There had to be a safe place, somewhere, anywhere.
“Look, Sammy. Let me take care of one thing at a time, OK?” sighed Dean. “We gotta get you safe, and then we gotta go save Cas from Lucifer.”
“How the hell do you think you're gonna take care of Lucifer?”
“Sammy. OK. I dunno. I'm making this up as I go along. But between you and me? It's been all we can do to keep Gabe from zapping off to help Cas. Which would just get them both killed. If you don't wanna do this for you, at least do this for him.”
Sam leaned back and studied Dean skeptically. “I'm supposed to keep a pissed off angel busy?”
“Yeah. Exactly. Distract an antsy angel.”
“Well, when you put it like that...” sighed Sam.
“Are you ready?” asked Gabriel. He came marching out along with Rufus, Crowley and Crowley’s hulking dogs. Dean wondered if they had just had to talk Gabe out of fleeing again.
“Hey, sure, Gabe,” said Sam, hopping down from the car. “Uh, anything I need to do?”
“Wear a jacket,” snapped Gabe, who was already stripping out of his. He left his shirt and coat in a careless heap on the ground.
“Yeah, I've got a jacket on,” said Sam.
“Then let's go,” said Gabe, who was suddenly, miraculously, winged. And then he had Sam in his arms. And then they were off, speeding incredibly fast, Grim and Barghest rushing off yapping after them.
“He might have recommended some Dramamine,” suggested Crowley, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Idiot dogs!” he called. “You are not going to catch an angel. Oh, why do I bother?”
“Damn, when they fly, those guys don't fuck around,” said Dean.
“The wings work by magic,” said Rufus. “In fact, anatomically, they shouldn't even be able to fly.”
“Another completely useless fact to brighten my life,” grumbled Crowley.
Dean watched them go until they disappeared. Magic wings. He remembered the gruesome trophy room at the death camp, and the weird electrical feeling in the room. “Wait,” said Dean. “Wait. I may have an idea.”
“What kind of idea? Oh, let me guess: reckless and stupid?” asked Crowley, patting his dogs as they rounded back.
“Yes,” said Dean.
“That's my favorite kind!” grinned Rufus. “Spill it, kid.”
“Did you guys ever see an old movie called Beau Geste?” asked Dean.
Crowley and Rufus looked at each other.
They listened.
“Young man, that is thoroughly twisted and macabre!” said Crowley. “And I insist you let me help.”
“The boss wants you to see this,” said a guard. And then Cas was thrown to the ground, his chains looped through silver loops on the bare floor of this balcony overlooking a great courtyard of Lucifer’s palatial headquarters.
Cas could only see through one eye, as the other was swollen nearly shut. As an angel, he always healed quickly. But not that quickly. He didn't try to raise his head. The floor was cool at least.
Since they had stopped beating him he had to assume Lucifer's gambit had worked, and Michael was now approaching. In the gaps between the balusters he could see there was a group of angels chained up in the courtyard below. He wondered who they were, as he couldn't see the faces. Were they his comrades in arms? The vanishing train passengers? Both? Who knew? But that gathering would be as a beacon to Michael: so much angelic magic, concentrated in one place.
He supposed he should probably be more curious than he was about Michael. Like Lucifer, Michael was an older brother, and one he did not remember. But all he felt was emptiness. No wonder Gabe had yanked him out of this life. His brother had been right: Cas had no stomach for it.
He wished, for once, he had listened to his brother. He wished he had listened to Dean. He prayed neither of them would try to come after him. More lives wasted in this madness.
“Cas?”
He heard the sound of the guards footsteps, and heard Balthazar's voice, but could not turn his head far enough to actually look at the other man. “My brother is coming,” Cas said simply.
“Wondered why the buggers had stopped whaling on us,” came the reply. “Can you see what's happening.”
“Don't you feel it?”
The approach of an archangel is not something easily ignored. The ground trembled beneath his feet, though his steps were invisible, even to angels like Cas. Lights around the courtyard sputtered and then shattered. The air hummed with electricity. And then suddenly, he was standing, in the guise of John Winchester, a small, slim figure in the middle of the courtyard.
And then, just as abruptly, Lucifer was there too.
“Michael! How pleasant to see you,” cooed Lucifer. “And so unexpected. Thanks for dropping by.”
“You're looking well, brother,” sneered Michael. “What do you want?”
“No, it's rather, what do you want?” said Lucifer. “As you can see, I have rather a lot of guests today,” he explained, gesturing to the group of angels now huddled on the grounds of the courtyard between the two brothers. “Too many, sadly, for a hospitality even as large as mine. So, unfortunately, we may have to let some of these people go.”
“Then release them.”
Lucifer smiled with great cordiality. “Certainly. One one condition: your life for theirs.”
“Never.”
“Well,” said Lucifer, striking a match, “that's really too bad. Because, you see, I have them all sitting in a big pool of holy oil. You're familiar, I assume, with the effects of holy oil on angels? If not, a little demonstration-”
“No! Lucifer, are you mad?” said Michael.
“I am quite sane. But it comforts me so to hear you worry for my mental health.” He held up the match and watched the tiny flame dance at the tip. “Shame to waste all those lovely wings. Uriel is a big fan, you understand.”
“Lucifer, put down the match,” urged Michael. “We can talk about this.”
“Can we? We've had eons to talk, brother. Things just never seem to get resolved.”
“Lucifer.”
“It's no secret why I crave attention, being brought up in this dysfunctional family. I have a tendency to act out,” tutted Lucifer.
“Lucifer.”
“Antisocial personality disorder. That's what they call it.”
“Lucifer!” bellowed Michael.
And then Michael took a step forward.
“Put down the match,” Michael repeated.
“Anything for you, big brother,” grinned Lucifer, suddenly flicking the match at Michael.
In an instant the ground beneath Michael's feet erupted in bright orange flames. Up overhead, Cas cringed as Michael threw his head back and screamed. The air suddenly stunk with the smell of burning flesh. Michael's entire body glowed orange, and then red, and then the courtyard was bathed in a glow of white light.
And then, Michael was no more. A scorch mark on the ground. A giant crack now ran all the way across the courtyard.
“So long, brother dear,” sighed Lucifer. “Will have to get those tiles fixed,” he added.
“Do you want us to unchain these angels?” asked one of his lieutenants.
“Hrm,” said Lucifer, taking out his matchbook. “Seems a great waste of holy oil.”
Up on the balcony, Balthazar asked, “Oh god, tell me he's not-”
Cas' attention was elsewhere though. “Balthazar,” he whispered. “Do you feel that?”
Balthazar tore his attention from Lucifer and cast out his senses. “Angels,” he said. “A whole bloody lot of them.”
Uriel had rushed down into the courtyard. “Lucifer!” he shouted. Lucifer, still holding the matchbook, listened intently. He seemed to forget about the matches as Uriel whispered in his ear.
“Quickly, everybody!” Lucifer shouted. “Forces are massing to the east! It must be their last stand! It's our chance to crush the Michaelistas once and for all! Rally around now! Come on!”
“Everything set?” asked Dean for the thousandth time. He surveyed the field. It looked like a scarecrow convention, lots of crudely made mannequins standing up everywhere.
“You're lucky we have people who can scrounge,” Rufus told him. They both watched a heavily laden truck pull up.
“Here we go,” said Dean as Crowley jumped out and, together with his two massive dogs, strode forward. “Were you able to convince your people to help?” he asked the demon.
“They were all quite reluctant up to the point when I mentioned kicking Lucifer in the balls, at which point they became, well, if not enthusiasts, at least they evinced cooperation. Oh, and also, you are a lunatic.”
“Thanks, Crowley,” said Dean.
“You think it'll work?” asked Rufus.
“No, not in the least,” smiled Crowley. “But what it will do is annoy the hell out of Lucifer.”
Safe for the moment in No Man’s Land, Sam was awkwardly shaking Bobby Singer's hand. “I thank you for this, Mr. Singer.”
“It's Bobby. And you're brother's a good man,” he said. “Any kin of his is always welcome here.” He turned to Gabe, who had collapsed to a couch, head in hands. “Now, Gabe, I'm gonna fetch you a drink, and you're gonna tell me everything,” he told Gabe.
“There's nothing to tell,” sobbed Gabe. “They're torturing, him, Bobby.”
“They're sending a message,” said Bobby softly, sitting down on a pile of books across from Gabe. “This is how they want you to react.”
“Dean wanted to do a rescue mission,” said Sam lamely. “But, he had no fucking idea. Really.”
“They'll kill him,” whispered Gabe. He reeled as Bobby grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently.
“Gabe, listen to me,” said Bobby. “Those sad fuckers are not killing my boy. Now get your damn angelic head out of your ass, and we figure out a way. And we do it now.”
“Wait, Bobby, I have something,” said Sam.
“Well, spit it out, boy,” said Bobby.
“Bobby. Those symbols all over the wall are warding against everything, right?”
“Yeah.”
“When I was in the POW camp, I saw a guy try and escape. An angel, though I didn’t know it at the time. And it seemed like, well, there wasn’t much left of the poor bastard.”
Bobby nodded. “Kid, I've made a career out of picking up after sad bastards who tried to breach that wall. You think Lucifer would fall for that crap? Is that where you’re headed?” he asked. Sam nodded. “He’s crazy, not stupid.”
“But Bobby, we got the bait,” said Gabe, nodding at Sam, who nodded back.
“What?” asked Bobby. “No! We’re not gonna use you to bait Lucy, son. What if it doesn’t work.”
“Bobby, I’ve been listening to the other angels,” said Gabe. “Lucifer's vessel is busted. He doesn't just want Sam. He needs him. And soon.”
Bobby scowled at them. He put his head in his hands. And then he looked up. “All right. I might have a spell. Crazy damned bastards….”
Cas steeled himself for the pain. He kept his head down on the table he was chained to. He would not let these bastards see his tears.
He heard the terrible high pitched squealing of the bone saw firing up. He had heard the screams of his brothers and sisters, and seen the lifeless bodies afterwards. Usually, you didn’t survive them taking your wings.
Not that you’d want to.
“You’re a pretty one, aren’t you?” came the whisper in his hear. “This pair will decorate Master Uriel's trophy room.”
With some effort, Cas turned his head towards the voice.
He spat in the demon’s eye, and got punched in the head but good for it. Blood ran down his face, and he grinned at the demon. It reared back.
“Wanna fight? Loosen the chains?” Cas taunted.
“Take his wings!” the demon yelled. “Take them now!”
Cas turned his face back into the cool of the table. Broken and chained, and they still fear me, he thought. Perhaps it was not such a bad way to go.
And then a crash, and a scream. He heard the saw blade go whirring off in the wrong direction. Shouts and chaos.
“Don’t worry, Cas, we got you!”
“Dean!” said Cas. He turned his head back and blinked at Dean Winchester, who was, against all probability, currently peeking over the table.
More crashes and shouting. Dean ducked, and there was a scream of, “Oh god dammit!” that sounded very much like the demon Crowley’s voice. “I thought your brilliant diversion was supposed to send all the guards packing?” rasped Crowley.
“So they left a couple guys here? Who knew?” said Dean.
“A couple guys with bloody big weapons!” yelled Crowley.
Dean poked his head back up over the table.
“A rescue?” asked Cas.
“Uh. Yeah,” said Dean.
“Good job,” said Cas dryly.
“Unlock his bloody chains! I’m fucking bleeding here!” came Crowley’s cry. Dean was already taking out a lock pick.
“Give us a minute,” Dean told Cas.
“I’ll wait right here,” Cas sighed. He heard a small click and felt some of the chains loosen.
“I thought you were good at this!” Crowley grumped at Dean. Another shot rang out, and they ducked.
“I thought you said you were a crack shot,” Dean told Crowley, jiggling at another lock.
“I am even with only one arm, they’re just up on the bloody balcony,” grumbled Crowley, awkwardly holding his shotgun. He felt to where his arm was bleeding. “Damn! I liked this suit.”
“Almost done,” said Dean as another chain fell. Another shot whizzed by him. “Shit!” he cried, diving for cover again.
“Just loose the angel,” barked Crowley.
“Then it will be three of us pinned down,” said Dean.
“My dear Officer Winchester, have you ever witnessed an angel in full fighting mode?”
“He’s wounded, Crowley. We’re gonna have to get him out. Oh, there we go!” he said as the last chain fell. “Cas are you…?”
But there was no one on the table.
Dean turned his head to the sound of a scream: two soldiers went toppling off a high balcony.
“Ha! Serves you right, fuckers! Ruin my suit will you!” yelled Crowley.
A shot rang out. Dean ducked.
“That corner!” Crowley yelled.
Dean saw a dark blur hurtling towards the corner. Another demon screamed and fell to the floor.
A door opened, and two demons holding shotguns appeared.
“Oh shit,” said Dean.
And then a dark shadow was in back of the demons. Cas picked them both up by their collars and threw them clean across the room, where they fell, unconscious, in a heap.
Wings unfurled, blood dripping down his face and chest, Cas stalked across the room to where Dean and Crowley were still huddled.
Dean watched, amazed.
And, to be frank, sort of turned on.
“Is that all of them?” Cas asked.
“Uh, yeah,” said Dean, trying to restart his rather distracted brain. “Good job.”
“Thank you for the rescue,” said Cas, pulling Dean to his feet. He grabbed two shotguns off the fallen demons, tossing one to Crowley. “Stay behind us, Dean.”
“Wait just a damned minute!” said Dean, scowling and crossing his arms. “I'm here. This is my rescue plan. I'm pasting demons too!”
Crowley and Cas exchanged a look.
Just at that moment, and demon came charging into the room. Cas threw his rifle butt into its stomach, and then Crowley cracked it over the head. Crowley caught the gun as it fell, and handed it over to Dean. “There we go,” he said. “Better?”
“Yeah, actually,” grinned Dean, happily cocking the weapon.
“We've got to get clear of the headquarters before my teleportation will work again,” said Crowley as they began to walk.
“I don't think I can fly carrying two,” said Cas.
“So we'll fight our way out?” asked Dean.
“That seems the plan. Such as it is,” confessed Crowley.
A brace of demons clouded the air with a thick, pungent black smoke. They scented blood. Angelic blood.
They hurtled eastwards, towards the angelic forces massing against them.
“There they are!” somebody shouted. It was difficult to tell who, from within the writhing mass. “Dead ahead.”
There, down below, silhouetted in the breaking dawn, a mass of angels such as had rarely been seen on earth, wings unfurled, waiting.
“What are they waiting for?” someone else thought to ask.
Lucifer, whose glorious Presence personally led the battle today, cried, “Charge!”
And the demons set upon them, diving low.
“Why aren't they rising to meet us?” someone shouted. Angels preferred aerial battles. On the ground, this would be a slaughter. So much the better.
Demons have a heightened sense of smell, which somewhat makes up for dim eyesight. This is why several dozen of the winged beings were cut asunder before anyone noticed the wings were only dead things, sewn onto crude scarecrows. The prizes from the death camp, which had been so carefully preserved and laid out, had been lashed to hundreds of lifeless mannequins, standing silent guard in a field.
Lucifer, who had alit in the middle of the field, stood in impotent rage, his trophies now mocking him. “I'll kill them all,” he screamed.
“But they're already dead,” said one demon to another. The other demon didn't reply, as an enraged Lucifer turned and smote the both of them.
“This way?” asked Crowley.
“Do I look like a map of Satan's palace?” asked Dean.
“Someone ought pay attention whilst your friend is smiting things,” said Crowley, watching Cas once again make mincemeat of a brace of demons with his flashing sword. “Show off,” he told Cas when he again stood before them.
“We are low on ammo,” said Cas, expertly twirling the sword. “I don't need to reload this.”
“I was just telling our officer of the law that we ought reckon our location, vis-a-vis getting the hell out of here,” said Crowley. “Before Lucifer figures out he's been deceived and comes back in an even more rotten mood than usual.”
“Yeah,” said Dean. “Careful where we're headed. Wouldn't wanna wander into any place nasty.”
Cas kicked open a door.
Uriel stood before them.
“Tsk, talk about nasty,” quipped Crowley.
“Crowley, it's been a while,” growled Uriel.
“Not hardly long enough, if you want my opinion,” said Crowley.
“This dude's an angel?” asked Dean. “Maybe we should....” He gestured back out the door.
“You want my wings, Uriel?” asked Cas, heedlessly striding forward. “Why don't you come get them.”
“I'll take your heart as well,” said Uriel. Swords flashed and, when Cas stood back, Uriel had Cas' blade sticking out of his chest.
Dean gulped, but Uriel, despite the blood, remained standing.
“Idiot!” said Uriel, pulling out Cas' sword and dropping it to the floor. “You can't kill me with that!”
“I can't?” asked Cas.
“You need one of these!” said Uriel. He flashed his own sword and charged.
“Cas!” shouted Dean. “Watch out.”
Cas waited, staring down Uriel. And then at the last moment he stepped aside, tripping the bigger angel.
Uriel fell, and Cas was on him, wresting the blade from his grasp and then jumping on top of him, stabbing him, once again, in the chest with his own sword.
This time Uriel shuddered. His body spasmed, and, as Cas hopped off, a white light poured out of his eyes and mouth.
And then he was silent.
“Thanks for the tip,” said Cas, calmly pulling the bloody blade out of Uriel's chest, wiping the blood on his pantleg.
“Is that an archangel blade?” asked Crowley, reaching out to touch it.
“Looks like,” said Cas, snatching it away with a warning look towards Crowley.
“Uriel was an archangel?” asked Dean.
“No,” said Cas.
“Wait. Then, how did he score one of the cool swords?” asked Dean.
“Probably pulled it off a dead archangel,” smiled Crowley.
“One of my family,” sighed Cas.
“Wait, that doesn't make sense!” said Dean, waving at Uriel's lifeless body. “This guy was a pussy!”
“Maybe the murderer came as a friend,” said Crowley. “Oldest trick in the book.”
“Or maybe the murderer came as a brother,” said Cas. “Is something happening out there?” he asked. The room they were in now had a balcony, and Cas started to make for it.
“Mmm, yes, I smell angel. Live ones, not that bloke,” said Crowley, following Cas. Dean shrugged and walked after them.
The balcony overlooked the courtyard. And there was a commotion going on down below.
“Gabe!” said Cas. “What is he doing here?”
Dean hastened to the edge. “He's got Sam,” he said. “What the hell...”
“Lucifer, where the fuck are you?” yelled Gabe, who was holding a terrified looking Sam by the collar.
The ground trembled.
“Gabriel. You are a dead man,” said Lucifer, who now stood before Gabe in his oozing vessel. “Did you just send me on a wild goose chase?”
“Five words,” said Gabe. “I have Sam Winchester, asshole.”
“No, Gabe, don't do this!” said Castiel, who watched in horror from up above.
“I will strike you down!” warned Lucifer, extending a hand, palm forward.
“He's gotten smitey!” Dean told Cas. “Cas, we gotta do something.”
“Smite me, and you paste your new ride, dimwit!” laughed Gabe. And, giving Sam a tug, he zipped off into the sky like a manic shuttlecock.
“Everyone!” screamed Lucifer. “After them! I want Sam Winchester alive!” And then he was lost in a miasma of black smoke.
Dean stumbled back from the balcony, coughing. “Where is he going?” he demanded of Cas. “Where is he taking Sam?”
“I think I know,” said Cas, nodding at Crowley. “You said clear of the building?”
“I think so,” said Crowley.
“Stay here,” Cas told Crowley. And then he had Dean under the arms and they were hurtling down into the courtyard in some kind of crazy barely controlled fall. Dean was too damned scared to even scream.
“You still have that lock pick you used on me?” asked Cas.
“Uh, yeah,” said Dean, hoping he wouldn't puke.
“Unlock them,” said Cas, indicating the angels who were still massed in the courtyard.
A shot ricocheted in the courtyard, nearly missing Dean. “What, all of them?”
“All of them.”
“You realize there's a sniper up there. Uh, where am I gonna-? Cas!” he yelled. But Cas was already winging his way back to the balcony. Cas grabbed Crowley and took off like a shot. Dean looked around nervously. “They could've left me more ammo,” he grumbled. He crouched and then, dodging sniper fire, ran over to where the angels were chained up. “Uh, I don't suppose any of you guys are soldiers?” he asked.
There were some looks exchanged. “I am,” said one.
“Well, uh, that's good,” said Dean. He opened chains on that guy, and suddenly, he was gone. There was a scream, and then a thud, from one of the places shots had been coming.
“Crowley’s right, these guys are handy in a fight,” said Dean.
Sam was getting pretty fucking tired of being flown around. It was cool at first, but there really was a pretty distinct down side to flying. It was cold as hell, he thought he might be getting an ear infection, and then there were the bugs in your teeth.
Oh, and also, this time Lucifer and about a million of his demons were after him.
He squinted ahead. Goggles. If he ever had to do this again, god help him, he would remember to bring some damn goggles. And a nice warm wool hat. And maybe some long underwear, like the kind you take skiing.
“Are they close?” he yelled at Gabe, hoping he wouldn't swallow another bug.
“Close enough. Hang on.”
“Don't worry, nowhere else to go at thirty thousand fucking feet!”
Gabe laughed. “We're nowhere near that high, or you wouldn't be able to breathe!”
“Well don't go any higher!”
“There's the wall.”
Sam peered ahead. The first time, Gabe had taken him to one of the more deserted areas of the border, where the wall was nothing more than a chain link fence. They had actually alit, and scrambled underneath a portion of fence, after Gabe had paused to sprinkle on a few spells. But this looked like the backside of the highest portion, where the wall was all concrete and razor wire.
“Are they ready for us?” Sam pleaded.
“Don't worry!'
“I have nothing else to do but worry!”
“Do you like flying, Dean?” asked Cas.
“Shit! Don't sneak up on me like that, Cas!” said Dean, who had been standing in the same courtyard where Cas and Crowley had left him. There were empty chains at his feet. And it had gotten a whole lot quieter. “I think your angel buddies have this area secure. Where the hell did you go?”
“Dropping off Crowley,” said Cas. “He’s going to teleport to Ellen’s place to let them know what’s going on. And you didn't answer my question.”
“Judging from you yanking me off the balcony? I fucking hate flying. And also, I hate it.”
“Oh,” said Cas. He peered at Dean. “Well, there's no other way,” he said, grabbing Dean under the armpits and taking off.
“Why did you ask?” shouted Dean as they ascended.
“Wanted to be polite,” Cas told him. “Short trip.”
“Shit.” The ground was rushing by at a dizzying pace, so Dean squinted ahead. He utterly despised flying and had no fucking idea how his idiot brother got a notion in his head to become a pilot. But this: this was very different. It came fast, like a video game, but there was added the soothing rhythmic beat of wings. He remembered Rufus' comment that there should be no way for an angel to actually fly, and did not take comfort from this knowledge.
“So where the hell are we headed?” Dean asked.
“Harvelle’s.”
“Gonna clarify?”
“Busy flying.” And Dean had to imagine the grin. He spotted something in the distance. It was another group of angels. They paced themselves with Cas and flew closer.
“Got a passenger?” asked Balthazar.
“Didn't get your wings?” Cas asked.
“I'll keep them!” Balthazar laughed. “You the one who got Uriel?”
“Got Uriel. Got his sword.”
“Good boy!”
Dean noticed there were more angels around him now. “Did you guys send out the Bat signal or something?” he asked.
“Lucifer's in flight,” said Cas. “World's biggest Bat signal.”
“We're gathering reinforcements at Harvelle’s,” Balthazar told Cas. “And I'm supposed to pass on a message. From your brother. Bobby says hi.”
Dean suddenly felt Cas' arms tighten around him. “Come on,” he whispered to Dean, and then he saw Harvelle’s in the distance.
“Tell me we’re landing,” said Dean, but then they were already on the ground. “Oh, thank God!” he sighed. The roadhouse was a hive of activity.
“Yeah, those too. They might come in handy,” Ellen was yelling at a couple of guys bearing a crate.
“You heard then?” Cas asked her.
“Cas!” she shouted, giving him a quick hug. “Yeah, Lucifer’s making for the wall, and we’re gonna meet him with everything we’ve got.”
“Gabe used my brother … on purpose?” asked Dean. “Oh, god, Sammy!”
“Your friend Bobby has a plan to trap Lucifer on the other side of the wall,” said Ellen.
“Bobby is lacking in sanity!” said Cas proudly.
There was a whiff of sulfur, and Crowley appeared. “Oh, not more crates! I have a tricky back!”
“It’s needed, Crowley!” said Ellen.
“All right, but there better be some nice whiskey in it for me. Asmodeus!” he yelled, a second or two before the demon had actually appeared at his side.
“Yeah boss?”
“More crates to the wall.”
“Got it boss,” said Asmodeus, heading towards the crates and then disappearing, along with them.
“He’s zapping people to the wall now?” asked Dean, gazing longingly at the Impala, which was still parked in Ellen’s parking lot.
“Sadly, there is not sufficient time to drive, Dean,” Cas told him. He looked to the sky. “I should get to the wall and help my brothers.”
“Wait a minute, Cas. Crowley!” said Dean.
“Yes, what is it?” the demon asked Dean, clearly happy to be relieved of crate transportation duty for a moment.
“Sammy was in the air force, and he told me they used to fly planes over the wall. You just have to paint on the right squiggles.”
“Oh, yes, the correct warding signs would counter the effect of the protection spells,” said Cas. “But how would you take a car…?” he trailed off as Dean grinned at him. “Oh you’re not going to plead with me to transport that battle tank actually through the wall are you?” groused Crowley.
Dean shrugged. “I thought you were the king demon or something.”
Crowley scowled. “Now you are appealing to my vanity?”
“Sure. Why not?” Dean grinned.
Crowley heightened the intensity of his scowl, but was only met with a smile.
“All right, get in,” he grumbled.
“Cas!” shouted Dean. “Quick! Lose the wings and grab a paint can.”
“OK, Sammy. Your career as live bait is about to come to an end.”
“I hope that's a good thing Gabe!” Sam shouted. He was fucking freezing.
“Arms and legs inside until the angel comes to a full and complete stop.”
“Quit wisecracking and fly!” yelled Sam. But then, mercifully, he was on the ground.
“You seen Lucy?” asked Bobby, who was standing nearby, monitoring a pair of binoculars.
“He was right on my ass,” said Gabe.
They all turned and watched anxiously for a long moment. The wall loomed overhead. It seemed especially tall today, as there was a menacing bank of dark clouds just overhead. But at one point, there was a distinctive gap in the clouds that shown through blue sky.
The ground rattled and lightning crashed. Lucifer had come through the gap.
Bobby threw a towel over the pot of weird and fragrant ingredients he'd been burning, extinguishing the flames. He looked up, grinning. “Take that, motherfuckers,” he whispered.
And then, as if a flame was snuffed out, the opening in the clouds just above the wall suddenly zipped up tight.
Some of the demons, mostly the ones closest to Lucifer, did not or could not slow down, and passed right though the dark cloud, following Lucifer. Their screams were heard for miles as every enchantment that Lucifer had so painstakingly built into his wall suddenly came crashing down upon them, and eyes boiled and skin fried and hearts exploded and entrails came sloshing out mouths and anuses. It was glorious and bloody disgusting.
The next wave of demons scattered and reversed, the dark miasma of their presence breaking like a wave on a beach. They turned.
And came face to face with an angry legion of angels.
Down below, on the Eastern side of the wall, Jo Harvelle jumped up on a packing crate. “Everybody! Loose everything! Everything! Now!!” she screamed. Suddenly there was a cacophony of Latin, Enochian, Greek, Cantonese, Gaelic, Hindi, Persian, Navajo, Tagalog, and just about any other tongue used in the human or spirit world. Demons screamed and fell out of the air, victims of every anti-demonic spell the world had ever known.
Lucifer and a very few of his demons alit in No Man's Land, where they encountered a rather motley assortment of humans bearing shotguns.
Lucifer strode forward as, by his side, several of his demons fell to the salt buckshot. He walked right up to one of the gunmen, sighed and plucked her rifle from her. And then he twisted it in a pretzel and tossed it away.
And then with a sweep of his arm, sent a whole line of gunmen flying.
“Gabriel. I believe you have something for me.” Gabe was standing in front of Sam Winchester, as if that would do any good. “Oh, come on, I've flown all this way. I might get cranky.” Lucifer glared. “How about now, little brother.”
“You're not my brother,” said Gabriel, who was holding a sword.
“Well, then, I'll feel much less guilty when I smite you.” Lucifer grinned and flicked his hand, and Gabe went flying. “Hello, Sam. Time you and I got better acquainted.”
“Never,” said Sam.
“Sadly, you don't have much choice in the matter.”
Lucifer screamed as he was knocked 20 feet by a 1967 Chevy Impala that had just appeared out of nowhere.
The car was covered from bumper to bumper in sigils.
Dean jumped out of the driver's seat.
“Whoa, talk about good timing,” said Sam.
Cas jumped out of the back. He flashed the archangel sword he had stolen from Uriel and flew at Lucifer, who seemed disoriented. Lucifer flicked out a blade of his own, as Cas was standing too close for him to easily flick away.
“Cas, be careful!” Dean shouted.
“Stab him in the balls!” called Crowley.
“Is that useful?” asked Dean.
“I just so despise Lucifer,” confessed Crowley.
Lucifer was stronger, but Cas was much quicker, and, after snapping Lucifer's blade away, Cas stabbed his brother through the chest. He stepped back.
Lucifer glowered. “You idiot,” he growled. He grabbed the blade, pulled it out of himself and cast it aside.
“I am having terrible fucking luck today,” Cas sighed.
“You can't kill me with an archangel blade. You're not an archangel. You're a pathetic piece of trash!”
“You know what? You have far too many damn rules for these swords!” Cas grumbled, crossing his arms defiantly.
Lucifer made a sweeping gesture and Cas flew back, slamming into the Impala's fender.
“Gabe!” shouted Bobby. “Now!”
Gabe flew up behind Lucifer, grabbed him under the arms and dragged him about ten feet. Lucifer wrested free and easily tossed Gabe aside.
Then Bobby tossed a lit match to the ground near Lucifer's feet.
Lucifer looked in confusion at the circle of flames now licking around him.
“In case this is news to you, buddy, that's holy oil,” grinned Bobby
“I wouldn't try to cross it,” said Gabe. “Of course, who am I to offer advice to my all-knowing older bro?”
“I won’t forget this, Gabriel!” Lucifer told him.
“God, I hope not,” grinned Gabe.
“You're under arrest, Lucifer,” said Sheriff Jody Mills, who arrived brandishing a shotgun.
Suddenly there was a flurry of activity around Lucifer. Men carried in a large old desk and chair, and other random people were bringing in deck chairs and picnic blankets, along with packed lunches and even a beach ball.
“What the hell is going on now?” demanded Lucifer.
“Legal proceedings will ensue,” said Jody.
“All rise!” barked the bailiff. The crowd rose to its feet. “The court of the Honorable Judge Albert Swearengen, Magistrate of the Southwest Division of the Union of Unincorporated Free Territories, is now in session.” A black-robed figure sauntered in and sat down at the desk, bringing out a flask and setting it on the desk beside his gavel.
“I demand to know what's going on,” yelled Lucifer.
“If you're Lucifer,” said Swearengen, banging his gavel, “then you, sir, are now on trial for crimes against humanity and angelkind, and the murder of your family members. Swift justice!”
“This is an outrage!” said Lucifer.
“Lucy, I got one rule in my court of law,” Swearengen told him. “Sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up.”
“I don't even have a chairl!” Lucifer barked.
Someone tossed a folding chair into the circle of holy fire. It hit Lucifer in the head.
Lucifer had, in the end, refused to sit in the chair, and so sat sullenly, cross-legged on the ground in the middle of the holy fire, where an honor guard of angels now stood in watch along with Jody.
At one point, someone had tossed the beach ball to him. He had burst it, which did not aid his already low standing with the local crowd.
“Is this trial gonna take a long time, your honor?” Dean asked Swearengen, who was standing taking a long drag from his flask, leaning back against his desk.
“I guaran-fucking-tee it, son,” grinned the judge. “See that you don't bust that body before we're done, there, Lucifer,” he taunted. “I got witnesses coming in from hundreds of miles.”
Lucifer glowered, but said nothing. Swearengen chuckled and walked away.
Dean bumped shoulders with Sam, and they both walked away from Lucifer. “God. It gives me the shivers just looking at him,” said Sam.
“Worse than clowns?” grinned Dean.
“He was gonna wear me around? Like I'm a Muppet or something?”
“Hey, I dig Kermit,” laughed Dean. “It's not easy being green.”
“What if he gets out, Dean?”
“Well, according to Bobby, he doesn't have a lot of time left in that guy he's wearing.”
“I'd just feel better if I were somewhere away from here,” said Sam.
“You wanna go back home?” asked Dean.
“Well, I dunno,” said Sam. “Wouldn't seem much like home if you weren't there. And the West, you know.... They're rebuilding.”
“Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“You're not fixing on looking up that demon girl, are you?”
“What? Who? Me?”
Dean raised his eyes heavenwards in time to see Gabe and Cas landing nearby.
“We got Lucifer's forces pretty much routed on the other side,” Gabe reported.
“And people have already begun to tear down the wall,” said Cas.
“So, what are you gonna do when this is over?” Dean asked Gabe.
“What do you mean?”
“You gonna go back to the strip mall, be a local shaman?” asked Dean.
Gabe shook his head. “Uh, no, stupid as it sounds....” He trailed off, and pointed upwards.
“You’re going back up?” asked Dean.
“Yeah, gonna see if there’s anything left in heaven,” sighed Gabe. “A bunch of the guys wanna go with me. I mean, the few guys we have left.”
“You don’t gotta, you know,” said Dean.
“Yeah, I gotta,” said Gabe. “They think I’m their fucking leader now! Dumb shits. I mean, would you follow me? Because, I sure as hell wouldn’t follow me!”
Dean smiled. “I think you’ll do OK.”
“I will suck major balls!” said Gabe, who sighed deeply.
“So,” said Dean, turning to Cas. “Are you, uh, going with him?”
Cas started to speak, but looked uncertain. He glanced at Gabe, and then glanced back at Dean, his eyes wide. “I…”
“No no no no no no no!” said Gabe, putting an arm around Cas.
“No?” asked Cas.
“Naw, kid, you gotta stay here. That’s one lesson we learned, can’t keep the whole family in that crap ass palace. You need to stay down here. Be my eyes and wings! I’ll appoint you my royal ambassador for … earthly crap, or something.”
“Can I still work for Bobby?” asked Cas.
“Yeah, sure, don’t quit your day job. I got no idea how long this angelic goddam prince gig will last before the proletariat goes all 1917 on my ass.”
Cas smiled. “I guess I’ll stay down here,” he told Dean.
“Aw, shit!” said Gabe, who suddenly had a far off look. “We got some black-eyes. Come on, bro. We’re needed again.” Gabe didn’t wait, but zipped off.
Cas lingered a moment. “I’ll, uh, see you later, Dean?”
“Better believe you will,” grinned Dean. Cas grinned too, and then he was a dot in the sky.
“Well, I figured it would happen,” said Bobby.
Dean turned. “Oh. Uh. Bobby. Hey. I didn’t see you walk up.” His grin turned to a blush. “Uh. I dunno if Cas told you….”
“Boy doesn’t need to tell me anything, ya dumb shit,” sighed Bobby. “I could tell from the instant he carried you back to my home. Well, good for you. But I’ll tell you a couple interesting facts about angels, as you may not know. One is they mate for life…”
“Oh,” said Dean.
“And the other is they ain’t favorably inclined about sharing.”
Sam burst out laughing, clapping Dean on the shoulder. “Awesome! Bobby, that is just perfect.”
“Well, uh, OK,” said Dean, who was looking rather perplexed. “Uh, is there anywhere around here I could get beer? I think I need one. Or two or seven.”
“Come on,” said Bobby. “Guess you boys are family now….”
Many days later, Cas leaned back and followed a shooting star across the night sky.
“Still trying to catch one?” asked Dean. He tightened his grip around the angel, who was lying in his lap the hood of the Impala. Cas had finally been convinced to change out of the threadbare suit, but was still wearing the big overcoat Gabe had given him.
“I am thinking. About my brother,” said Cas.
“Have you heard from him? What’s it like? Up there?” asked Dean.
“Gabe says it’s … tacky.”
“Wait, tacky?”
“Everything’s gold or silver, there’s red carpets, flocked wallpaper….”
“Ha! Heaven is decorated like a whorehouse?”
Cas blinked. He felt Dean jerking with laughter. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of it that way. Also, there is no ice cream.”
“No ice cream in heaven? Aw, so it must be hell for Gabe.”
“Perhaps I shall go and bring him some licorice.”
“Am I interrupting anything?” asked Sam, who hopped up on the hood beside them without waiting for an answer.
“Would you care if you were?” asked Dean.
“So, I was talking to Rufus…” Sam continued.
“How can you even see that guy through all the cigarette smoke?” grumbled Dean.
“I guess he hit it off real well with Bobby,” said Sam.
“Yes, they are thick as thieves,” said Cas.
“And anyway,” said Sam, “Rufus tells me Ellen is trying to gather together what hunters are still around. Still a lot of ex-Luciferites on the loose, causing trouble.”
“How is this of relevance to my life?” grumbled Dean.
“We could offer assistance,” said Cas. “Gabriel has said he wishes me to monitor conditions down here.”
“And you listened to Gabe?” asked Dean.
“Rufus says there’s been skirmishes between Crowley’s people and the black-eyes. Zachariah is rumored to be still at large, so it’s thought they’re organizing under him.”
“Wait,” said Dean. “So we’d be jumping in the middle of a gang war? Between angels and demons?”
“Yep!” said Sam.
“You don’t have to sound so happy about it,” Dean told him.
“This sounds like an acceptable occupation,” said Cas.
“For who?” asked Dean.
“Me and Cas!” said Sam.
“Perhaps if you play your cards right, we will allow you to be our driver,” Cas told him.
“Dean is an awful card player,” said Sam.
“That is true,” said Cas.
Dean heaved a sigh. “I’m supposed to drive you guys around while you….”
“Save people!” said Sam.
“And hunt demons,” concluded Cas.
Dean considered this for a while. “OK. I get to pick the music. And no ice cream in the car!”
“Deal!” said Sam, who slipped off the car. “You guys can continue with whatever you were doing.” He headed inside.
“What were we doing again,” said Dean, who pulled Cas around to face him.
“I was catching falling stars.”
“I already got one,” grinned Dean.
Cas blinked at him.
“What?” said Dean.
“That’s a little clichéd, isn’t it?”
“Too fucking bad. You’re stuck with me.”
Cas grinned. And kissed him.
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