The Rain is the Punch Line (Things Can’t Possibly Get Worse), 7/?
Fandom: Supernatural/Good Omens (crossover)
Rating: PG-13 (this chapter)
Summary: Dean had thought his life couldn’t possibly get any worse than it already was. He supposed this was his punishment for being so optimistic.
Warnings: Violence, language, crack, angst.
Chapter Six
"I wouldn't hurt your brother." Aziraphale said conversationally before Dean even realized he was dreaming.
"Jesus, you gotta stop sneaking up on me like that!"
"I'm terribly sorry," the angel said sincerely, "I just couldn't help overhearing your conversation with Sam earlier and I wanted to reassure you."
"No offense, but I'd rather not take that chance." Dean said lightly, "Why are you hanging around like an invisible creeper, anyway?"
"Michael stripped me of my corporeal form." Aziraphale explained, his expression wistful.
"Like...you could look human without a vessel?" Dean raised his eyebrows, "And you went with holy librarian instead of Brad Pitt?"
"Most of the higher-tier angels can manage it--"
"If you big wig angels can just mojo yourselves human bodies, what was the big deal about me and Sam and Michael and Lucifer?" Dean demanded.
"We can't create them ourselves...He has to do that. And they're fallible. If you're like Raphael, you ruin them all the time. Once you lose it, it's gone, and you have to go back to vessels... unless He decides to restore it." Aziraphale explained.
Dean looked slightly mollified. "I would've probably had to kill you if you'd told me my brother took on freakin' Satan for no reason."
"Sam allowed Lucifer to possess him?" Aziraphale asked, eyes wide.
"I keep forgetting you missed everything." Dean said, "That’s how he stopped the Apocalypse. Sam said yes to Lucifer and then got back control and...jumped into the Cage." The angel looked astonished. "Isn't this all in your Winchester gospel or whatever crap Chuck was writing?"
Aziraphale nodded "But what you have to understand is that there are millions of parts to the Gospel and while they're all possible, not all of them actually happen. Prophesy runs on potential energy."
"That's how predestination and free will can exist in the same universe?" Dean asked, looking a little dazed. He had not signed up for theology conversations with angels during his dreams.
"Ineffable." the angel agreed. They shared a moment of silence, letting the magnitude of their conversation wash over them.
"Well, now that I've had enough philosophy to last a lifetime, tell me why you came looking for us in the first place." Dean finally said.
"Another angel sent me." Aziraphale told him.
Dean looked displeased at this information. "Who? There are hardly any of you left."
"What do you mean?"
Dean shrugged. "There was a civil war in Heaven after Sam stopped the Apocalypse. Some of the angels wanted to restart it."
"Michael?" Aziraphale guessed.
Dean shook his head. "He fell into the Cage with Lucifer. Raphael was heading the pro- Apocalypse side." He swallowed reflexively. "Castiel led the others."
Aziraphale sat down heavily on a park bench that had materialized out of Dean's dreamscape. "Why would Castiel take on an archangel? He couldn't possibly hope to win."
"Yeah," Dean said, guilt twisting his expression, "Well. People who fall in with us tend to wind up fighting for lost causes."
"What happened?" Aziraphale whispered, his face rapt. Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. "This is my family we're discussing. Tell me."
"Cas was losing. So he started working with this demon and opened Purgatory."
Aziraphale's eyes widened. "He took the souls?"
Dean nodded, finally sitting down next to the angel. "It made him crazy…and super powerful. He killed Raphael and all the angels aligned with him." Dean's expression turned ugly. "He nearly killed us and he knocked down the wall in Sam's mind that was keeping him from remembering his time in the Pit."
"Your brother remembers being in Hell with Michael and Lucifer?" Aziraphale's face was pale. "How is the poor boy even standing?"
Dean suddenly looked very tired. "I wish I knew. He says he's fine, but sometimes I look at him and he's not really there." He shook his head a little, as if to clear it. "Anyway, that's the short version of what's happening. Cas got freaked by the way the souls were making him feel, so he came to us for help."
"Did you help him?" Aziraphale couldn't help asking. He earned a hard glare for his trouble.
"Of course we did. Even if he hadn't been our friend at one point, we would have had to stop him." Dean studied his narrow hands, "And he was our friend, once."
"So all the souls were returned to Purgatory?" the angel said, changing the subject. He saw the corner of Dean's lip quirk up into what might have been a grateful smile, if he hadn't looked so sad.
"Not quite," he said, "Some of the souls were too powerful."
Aziraphale's eyes widened in understanding. "Leviathan."
Dean nodded gravely. "We've been trying to find a way to kill the bastards ever since, but they're everywhere and, as far as we can tell, pretty much unkillable."
Aziraphale swallowed the desire to ask what had become of Castiel. The look on Dean's face was answer enough. He felt a rush of grief as he remembered the first time he had seen his younger brother.
"Don't step on that fish, Castiel. Big plans for that fish."
"So now you know pretty much everything we do," Dean's voice cut through his thoughts, "Any idea what it all has to do with you being sent here?"
"The angel who freed me said the world was in danger," Aziraphale said, "And then he told me where to find you. Perhaps he wants us to face the threat together?"
Dean shrugged. "Maybe. It seems funny, though. All the angels who might have helped us wound up dead." His lips twisted into an approximation of a grin, but there was too much bitterness in his gaze for it to be genuine.
"Let me help you, Dean." Aziraphale said, "I'm looking for someone who might be able to help us, but I can't do it while incorporeal."
Dean jumped up from the bench, his expression turning instantly hostile. "You're just here for a vessel?" he hissed, "Sam was right; we can't trust any of you bastards!"
"I'm not here to hurt you, Dean, or your brother." Aziraphale protested, "Whoever freed me seemed to think we could help each other if we worked together."
"I'm not about to give up my free will to some asshat angel with God-only-knows-what on his agenda."
"I'm not Michael," Aziraphale pointed out, his voice level, "I have no intention of taking your freedom. I just want to be a passenger and I'll try to help you as much as I can."
Dean didn't look convinced. "Who are you looking for?" he demanded.
"An old friend, his name is..." Aziraphale hesitated, "...Anthony. He was with me in Lower Tadfield. He helped stop the Apocalypse then, he can help us now." The angel put all of his sincerity into his voice then, "But I cannot find him while I'm incorporeal. I promise you, my intentions are the purest."
Dean studied his face, still dubious, but without the open aggression from before. "What will you do if I say no?"
"I suppose I'll try to find someone else," he answered honestly, "Though I haven't had much luck on that front thus far."
"Augh!" Dean passed in front of him, tugging at his hair in exasperation. Aziraphale watched him calmly, belying the genuine anxiety he felt. Finally the hunter skidded to a stop and faced him.
"I have to talk to my brother first." he said, "We've had too much dishonesty between us in the past. Besides," he flashed the angel a razor-sharp grin, "If you are trying to take over the world or some shit, somebody had better know what to stab me with to stop you."
Aziraphale nodded his agreement, relieved. "Certainly. I'll be waiting next time you fall asleep." The angel pressed two fingers to Dean's temple and he jerked abruptly awake.
It was still dark outside and the television was still on, casting a whitish light as it displayed after-hours static. Dean blinked a couple times, trying to get his bearings. He usually wasn't so slow to wake up--as his dad had drilled into him from childhood, a slow hunter is a dead hunter--but considering he'd spent the whole time he was sleeping rehashing some of his worst memories, he figured he was justified. Besides, he felt so warm and safe...
It was about that moment that he realized that he was the little spoon to Sam's big spoon, his baby brother pressed flush to his back, shoulders to hips to knees. His arms were wrapped tightly around Dean's waist and his nose was buried in Dean's hair, sending a smattering of goosebumps down his older brother's neck every time he exhaled.
"It's like being cuddled by an octopus." Dean grumbled, shifting around until he was facing Sam. He felt tiny and soft against the hard planes of his brother's body, which only served to irritate him further. He put his tiny girl-hands on his brother's chest and shoved.
"Sam! Let go of me, Sasquatch!"
Sam's arms tightened reflexively at the same moment his eyes flew open and he cracked his forehead against Dean's.
"Ow." Dean said.
"Oh my God!" said Sam. He released Dean rolled off the bed and to his feet, lightning fast. "Dean, I'm sorry!"
"Dude, whatever." Dean rolled his eyes, rubbing at his temple. "It's not your fault I'm completely irresistable.
Sam's face flushed bright red. "You give yourself a lot of credit, bro. Good to know your ego didn't get damaged when you turned into a girl." He swept off to the bathroom, smirking, before Dean could even formulate a response, slamming the door behind him. Dean glanced over at the clock. The red digits glowed up at him; 3:45a. He groaned and flopped back into the warm spot where his little brother had been moments before.
Sam was in the bathroom long enough that Dean was almost asleep again when he finally emerged, dressed in fresh clothes and toweling off his hair.
"Enjoy your shower, Sammy?" he said cheekily. Sam flushed again and flung his balled-up towel at Dean.
"Mind your own business." He flopped down on Dean's bed and pulled a pillow over his face.
"Hey! That's my bed!" Dean protested. Sam raised an eyebrow. "Besides, you can't go back to sleep yet." He crawled over to the edge of Sam's bed and sprang across the gap between the two, landing half on Sam's chest. "Oof."
"Uh." Sam swallowed, "Why not?"
"I have to tell you what Az told me." Dean said, propping himself up on his elbows, digging them into Sam's chest.
"Dude. Get off me."
"Nuh uh." Dean said, jabbing him with his pointy elbows, "This is payback for the cuddling."
Sam grabbed him around his tiny waist and manhandled him over to the edge of the bed. Dean gave a distinctly girly squeak and balled his fists in the comforter to keep from falling off the bed.
"Not cool."
"Whatever, Dean. What did the angel say?" Sam sat up and looked at him intently. "You obviously didn't like it."
"Yeah. Well." Dean picked at the blanket for a minute before continuing. "Az wants to use me as a vessel."
"What? No!" Sam was on his feet in an instant. "Dean, why are you even considering this?"
"He might be able to help us!" Dean said, "Getting me changed back, the Leviathan."
"Yeah, and he might not!" Sam snarled, "Look what happened to the last angel who tangled with Leviathan!"
"You think I don't know that?" Dean snapped, "But we have to do something! We are no closer to getting rid of these things than we were at the beginning and we're down to just the two of us!"
"It's not worth risking you for, Dean!" Sam shouted, "For all we know, he could be pro-Apocalypse like Raphael. Or a defector, like Uriel! And then where would I be?"
"Now Sam, that's not fair." Lucifer said from where he was leaning on the bathroom doorframe, "Everyone here knows you're the one who does all the leaving."
"I'm not going to leave you, Sammy." Dean said softly, and Sam blinked, wondering what he'd said out loud. "But I think we can trust Az. And if we want any hope of winning this fight, I think we're going to have to."
All the fight drained out of Sam, then, and he sank down on the edge of his bed. "I guess you have to do what you think is best." he said hollowly. He could feel Dean's eyes on him, but he didn't look up.
"Sam--"
"I'm gonna go back to bed, kay?" he quickly cut Dean off, laying down with his back to his brother. He pulled the sheets over his head and tried not to notice how cold he was.
Chapter Eight
Rating: PG-13 (this chapter)
Summary: Dean had thought his life couldn’t possibly get any worse than it already was. He supposed this was his punishment for being so optimistic.
Warnings: Violence, language, crack, angst.
Chapter Six
"I wouldn't hurt your brother." Aziraphale said conversationally before Dean even realized he was dreaming.
"Jesus, you gotta stop sneaking up on me like that!"
"I'm terribly sorry," the angel said sincerely, "I just couldn't help overhearing your conversation with Sam earlier and I wanted to reassure you."
"No offense, but I'd rather not take that chance." Dean said lightly, "Why are you hanging around like an invisible creeper, anyway?"
"Michael stripped me of my corporeal form." Aziraphale explained, his expression wistful.
"Like...you could look human without a vessel?" Dean raised his eyebrows, "And you went with holy librarian instead of Brad Pitt?"
"Most of the higher-tier angels can manage it--"
"If you big wig angels can just mojo yourselves human bodies, what was the big deal about me and Sam and Michael and Lucifer?" Dean demanded.
"We can't create them ourselves...He has to do that. And they're fallible. If you're like Raphael, you ruin them all the time. Once you lose it, it's gone, and you have to go back to vessels... unless He decides to restore it." Aziraphale explained.
Dean looked slightly mollified. "I would've probably had to kill you if you'd told me my brother took on freakin' Satan for no reason."
"Sam allowed Lucifer to possess him?" Aziraphale asked, eyes wide.
"I keep forgetting you missed everything." Dean said, "That’s how he stopped the Apocalypse. Sam said yes to Lucifer and then got back control and...jumped into the Cage." The angel looked astonished. "Isn't this all in your Winchester gospel or whatever crap Chuck was writing?"
Aziraphale nodded "But what you have to understand is that there are millions of parts to the Gospel and while they're all possible, not all of them actually happen. Prophesy runs on potential energy."
"That's how predestination and free will can exist in the same universe?" Dean asked, looking a little dazed. He had not signed up for theology conversations with angels during his dreams.
"Ineffable." the angel agreed. They shared a moment of silence, letting the magnitude of their conversation wash over them.
"Well, now that I've had enough philosophy to last a lifetime, tell me why you came looking for us in the first place." Dean finally said.
"Another angel sent me." Aziraphale told him.
Dean looked displeased at this information. "Who? There are hardly any of you left."
"What do you mean?"
Dean shrugged. "There was a civil war in Heaven after Sam stopped the Apocalypse. Some of the angels wanted to restart it."
"Michael?" Aziraphale guessed.
Dean shook his head. "He fell into the Cage with Lucifer. Raphael was heading the pro- Apocalypse side." He swallowed reflexively. "Castiel led the others."
Aziraphale sat down heavily on a park bench that had materialized out of Dean's dreamscape. "Why would Castiel take on an archangel? He couldn't possibly hope to win."
"Yeah," Dean said, guilt twisting his expression, "Well. People who fall in with us tend to wind up fighting for lost causes."
"What happened?" Aziraphale whispered, his face rapt. Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. "This is my family we're discussing. Tell me."
"Cas was losing. So he started working with this demon and opened Purgatory."
Aziraphale's eyes widened. "He took the souls?"
Dean nodded, finally sitting down next to the angel. "It made him crazy…and super powerful. He killed Raphael and all the angels aligned with him." Dean's expression turned ugly. "He nearly killed us and he knocked down the wall in Sam's mind that was keeping him from remembering his time in the Pit."
"Your brother remembers being in Hell with Michael and Lucifer?" Aziraphale's face was pale. "How is the poor boy even standing?"
Dean suddenly looked very tired. "I wish I knew. He says he's fine, but sometimes I look at him and he's not really there." He shook his head a little, as if to clear it. "Anyway, that's the short version of what's happening. Cas got freaked by the way the souls were making him feel, so he came to us for help."
"Did you help him?" Aziraphale couldn't help asking. He earned a hard glare for his trouble.
"Of course we did. Even if he hadn't been our friend at one point, we would have had to stop him." Dean studied his narrow hands, "And he was our friend, once."
"So all the souls were returned to Purgatory?" the angel said, changing the subject. He saw the corner of Dean's lip quirk up into what might have been a grateful smile, if he hadn't looked so sad.
"Not quite," he said, "Some of the souls were too powerful."
Aziraphale's eyes widened in understanding. "Leviathan."
Dean nodded gravely. "We've been trying to find a way to kill the bastards ever since, but they're everywhere and, as far as we can tell, pretty much unkillable."
Aziraphale swallowed the desire to ask what had become of Castiel. The look on Dean's face was answer enough. He felt a rush of grief as he remembered the first time he had seen his younger brother.
"Don't step on that fish, Castiel. Big plans for that fish."
"So now you know pretty much everything we do," Dean's voice cut through his thoughts, "Any idea what it all has to do with you being sent here?"
"The angel who freed me said the world was in danger," Aziraphale said, "And then he told me where to find you. Perhaps he wants us to face the threat together?"
Dean shrugged. "Maybe. It seems funny, though. All the angels who might have helped us wound up dead." His lips twisted into an approximation of a grin, but there was too much bitterness in his gaze for it to be genuine.
"Let me help you, Dean." Aziraphale said, "I'm looking for someone who might be able to help us, but I can't do it while incorporeal."
Dean jumped up from the bench, his expression turning instantly hostile. "You're just here for a vessel?" he hissed, "Sam was right; we can't trust any of you bastards!"
"I'm not here to hurt you, Dean, or your brother." Aziraphale protested, "Whoever freed me seemed to think we could help each other if we worked together."
"I'm not about to give up my free will to some asshat angel with God-only-knows-what on his agenda."
"I'm not Michael," Aziraphale pointed out, his voice level, "I have no intention of taking your freedom. I just want to be a passenger and I'll try to help you as much as I can."
Dean didn't look convinced. "Who are you looking for?" he demanded.
"An old friend, his name is..." Aziraphale hesitated, "...Anthony. He was with me in Lower Tadfield. He helped stop the Apocalypse then, he can help us now." The angel put all of his sincerity into his voice then, "But I cannot find him while I'm incorporeal. I promise you, my intentions are the purest."
Dean studied his face, still dubious, but without the open aggression from before. "What will you do if I say no?"
"I suppose I'll try to find someone else," he answered honestly, "Though I haven't had much luck on that front thus far."
"Augh!" Dean passed in front of him, tugging at his hair in exasperation. Aziraphale watched him calmly, belying the genuine anxiety he felt. Finally the hunter skidded to a stop and faced him.
"I have to talk to my brother first." he said, "We've had too much dishonesty between us in the past. Besides," he flashed the angel a razor-sharp grin, "If you are trying to take over the world or some shit, somebody had better know what to stab me with to stop you."
Aziraphale nodded his agreement, relieved. "Certainly. I'll be waiting next time you fall asleep." The angel pressed two fingers to Dean's temple and he jerked abruptly awake.
It was still dark outside and the television was still on, casting a whitish light as it displayed after-hours static. Dean blinked a couple times, trying to get his bearings. He usually wasn't so slow to wake up--as his dad had drilled into him from childhood, a slow hunter is a dead hunter--but considering he'd spent the whole time he was sleeping rehashing some of his worst memories, he figured he was justified. Besides, he felt so warm and safe...
It was about that moment that he realized that he was the little spoon to Sam's big spoon, his baby brother pressed flush to his back, shoulders to hips to knees. His arms were wrapped tightly around Dean's waist and his nose was buried in Dean's hair, sending a smattering of goosebumps down his older brother's neck every time he exhaled.
"It's like being cuddled by an octopus." Dean grumbled, shifting around until he was facing Sam. He felt tiny and soft against the hard planes of his brother's body, which only served to irritate him further. He put his tiny girl-hands on his brother's chest and shoved.
"Sam! Let go of me, Sasquatch!"
Sam's arms tightened reflexively at the same moment his eyes flew open and he cracked his forehead against Dean's.
"Ow." Dean said.
"Oh my God!" said Sam. He released Dean rolled off the bed and to his feet, lightning fast. "Dean, I'm sorry!"
"Dude, whatever." Dean rolled his eyes, rubbing at his temple. "It's not your fault I'm completely irresistable.
Sam's face flushed bright red. "You give yourself a lot of credit, bro. Good to know your ego didn't get damaged when you turned into a girl." He swept off to the bathroom, smirking, before Dean could even formulate a response, slamming the door behind him. Dean glanced over at the clock. The red digits glowed up at him; 3:45a. He groaned and flopped back into the warm spot where his little brother had been moments before.
Sam was in the bathroom long enough that Dean was almost asleep again when he finally emerged, dressed in fresh clothes and toweling off his hair.
"Enjoy your shower, Sammy?" he said cheekily. Sam flushed again and flung his balled-up towel at Dean.
"Mind your own business." He flopped down on Dean's bed and pulled a pillow over his face.
"Hey! That's my bed!" Dean protested. Sam raised an eyebrow. "Besides, you can't go back to sleep yet." He crawled over to the edge of Sam's bed and sprang across the gap between the two, landing half on Sam's chest. "Oof."
"Uh." Sam swallowed, "Why not?"
"I have to tell you what Az told me." Dean said, propping himself up on his elbows, digging them into Sam's chest.
"Dude. Get off me."
"Nuh uh." Dean said, jabbing him with his pointy elbows, "This is payback for the cuddling."
Sam grabbed him around his tiny waist and manhandled him over to the edge of the bed. Dean gave a distinctly girly squeak and balled his fists in the comforter to keep from falling off the bed.
"Not cool."
"Whatever, Dean. What did the angel say?" Sam sat up and looked at him intently. "You obviously didn't like it."
"Yeah. Well." Dean picked at the blanket for a minute before continuing. "Az wants to use me as a vessel."
"What? No!" Sam was on his feet in an instant. "Dean, why are you even considering this?"
"He might be able to help us!" Dean said, "Getting me changed back, the Leviathan."
"Yeah, and he might not!" Sam snarled, "Look what happened to the last angel who tangled with Leviathan!"
"You think I don't know that?" Dean snapped, "But we have to do something! We are no closer to getting rid of these things than we were at the beginning and we're down to just the two of us!"
"It's not worth risking you for, Dean!" Sam shouted, "For all we know, he could be pro-Apocalypse like Raphael. Or a defector, like Uriel! And then where would I be?"
"Now Sam, that's not fair." Lucifer said from where he was leaning on the bathroom doorframe, "Everyone here knows you're the one who does all the leaving."
"I'm not going to leave you, Sammy." Dean said softly, and Sam blinked, wondering what he'd said out loud. "But I think we can trust Az. And if we want any hope of winning this fight, I think we're going to have to."
All the fight drained out of Sam, then, and he sank down on the edge of his bed. "I guess you have to do what you think is best." he said hollowly. He could feel Dean's eyes on him, but he didn't look up.
"Sam--"
"I'm gonna go back to bed, kay?" he quickly cut Dean off, laying down with his back to his brother. He pulled the sheets over his head and tried not to notice how cold he was.
Chapter Eight