Reliquary (Flight Club, Chapter 4 of 8)
Aug. 18th, 2012 09:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: Reliquary (Flight Club, Chapter 4 of 8)
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Cas; Sam, John, Bobby, Gabriel, Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazar, Joshua, Death
Warnings: Cursing.
Word Count: 38,000 total
Summary: John abandons teenaged Sam and Dean in Sioux Falls for the school year, where our young hunters-to-be befriend a strange boy who claims he and his brothers are angels of the Lord. Well, he's got a pretty cool sword anyway. The plot thickens when young Sammy wonders why there are so many restless spooks in the neighborhood, leading the boys to decide that calling out for pizza and Death is a wicked awesome idea. Hijinks ensue.
Notes: This is a high school AU, but since I can never do these things correctly, angels are still angels. (And some of them are still dickbags.)
So, thought Dean dryly, here I am nesting with my best buddy, the angel of the Lord.
Indeed, both boys were perched up in a tree. Down below a raw, bloody roast dangled from a low branch. Dean knew werewolves preferred live prey, but he had also heard, if they got hungry enough, they’d go ahead and snag some raw meat. And this was smack dab in the middle of the alleged werewolf’s usual hunting grounds.
Dean stifled a yawn and glanced over at Cas, who was staring downwards, immovable as a statue. Dean had to admit, Cas appeared pretty natural up here. In the big overcoat he looked like some kind of bird of prey, crouching there.
If there was one goal for the night, though Dean could scarcely admit it, it was to look cool. Ever since Cas had more or less saved his ass from those vampires, Dean had longed for his new friend to see him succeed on a hunt. After all, that’s what he did! And now, hearing Cas had also been kicking ass with Sammy’s bullies, the longing in Dean was only more pronounced.
Dean had debriefed Sammy about the dinner at the Malakhim household, of course, in great detail, and repeatedly. But, Dean was just realizing, he had barely talked about it with Cas. Cas for his part had seemed genuinely worried that he would no longer be Dean's friend, so Dean had just mouthed some platitudes about how everyone thought their family was weird, and then they had all moved on to planning this werewolf seige. But Dean wondered: how could they be angels? Maybe they were a family of traveling magicians, or something? Or maybe tricksters? They were supposed to be able to pull off illusions like that.
Dean had forged a shitload of silver bullets, but just one gun. Cas didn't know how to operate firearms, and Dean didn't think it was safe to teach him in the short time until the full moon. Maybe they would take him out to Uncle Bobby's at some point. But meantime, he seemed to do well enough with his sword and his fists, so they would leave well enough alone.
And besides, they had the advantage of numbers this time: two hunters, one werewolf. Everything was cake. Chocolate cake!
Well, almost everything. Dean had guzzled a couple cups of coffee before he climbed the tree, and his bladder was definitely feeling it. He looked around and saw all clear. But he didn't want to look like a dork in front of Cas. On the other hand, peeing your pants when fighting a werewolf would probably be pretty lame.
Dean paused. Was that a rustling sound?
“Cas, did you hear-?
“Yes. It sounded very like-”
“That sound Gabe makes when he winks in or out?” continued Dean. It sounded like soft wing beats. “Hey, look, I gotta take a leak, anyway,” said Dean. “Why don't I got down and take a look.”
“Take care. I will continue to keep watch from up here.”
Dean clambered down the tree and, being sure to take a careful look around first, ran a short distance away, into a copse of trees. He was immediately glad he had decided to take a break: his back teeth were swimming.
He zipped up and froze. He was sure he heard something. Or rather felt something.
Slowly, with the feeling that something was watching him, and gripping the gun, he turned.
It was on him before he could cry out. He was flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him, being throttled.
Not clawed, came a part of his brain. Strangled.
A sound, a falling body: Cas had leapt from the tree and now a familiar sword flicked through the figure.
“Cas!” Dean choked, flailing for something in his belt.
Another flick, as the angel blade sailed right through without effect.
“Not werewolf!” Dean sputtered. His hand was on the hilt, and he flipped it to Cas. “Spirit.”
Cas grabbed the cold steel knife. One flick, and the ghost dissipated.
Cas' hand was reaching down. Dean reached out and felt himself yanked to his feet.
“Spirits?” asked Castiel. “This is not a graveyard, nor a consecrated place.”
Dean, holding his bruised throat, pointed.
Cas whirled, and cut through two more spirits, which blinked out to the iron.
“Shit. What the-?” But then there were several more. Dean watched helplessly as Cas temporarily banished them, but then his ears picked up the sound.
“Wolf!” cried Dean.
“Get it! I'll take care of these,” said Cas.
Dean, gripping his revolver, ran back towards the tree, where indeed there was now a hairy monster clawing at their suspended raw meat.
Trying to still his beating heart, Dean aimed.
And ducked. He was nearly beheaded by another crazy raging spirit. What the fuck? What the actual fuck?
The commotion, unfortunately, alerted the wolf, which leapt at him. Dean had no time to aim, and the gun went off, wasting a bullet. Now he was on his back again, inches from the beast's fangs. He brought up his knees and kicked as hard as he could, throwing it off of him. He scrambled to his knees, aimed again, and just as it was rounding to leap, got off a clean shot to the chest.
The beast let out a gasp, and then shuddered and collapsed. Dean pushed himself to his feet and watched as slowly, the monster morphed back to a dead human. He squatted down near the body. Poor guy. He looked like some homeless dude, although that might have just been the effect of living as a werewolf, Dean didn't know. He spotted the original bite mark on the guy's neck, and self-consciously felt his own. He had come scary close to getting himself killed or were-cursed.
He heard movement. Cas had returned, looking frazzled.
“So many of them,” said Cas, handing Dean back the steel knife.
“Why so many spirits here?” asked Dean, tucking the blade back in his belt.
“His victims,” said Castiel, pointing to the body. “They dissipated quite suddenly though.”
Dean scratched his head. “Maybe when I pasted the werewolf? That released them somehow?”
“Those souls should have been reaped,” said Castiel, shaking his head. “There is something not right here!”
“Yeah, Sammy's been talking about it. Well, we need to salt and burn this guy now.”
Cas nodded, and they took a trip to the Impala's trunk. They ended up burying the guy's ashes in a shallow grave in the shade of the tree where they had been hiding. Dean yawned over the shovel, sincerely hoping this would give the poor dude some peace. It wasn't a good life, being a werewolf. He wondered again over Lucifer's odd remarks the other night.
“Cas, you know what your brother said, about us wrecking the ecosystem?”
“Lucifer,” rasped Cas.
“Is this a sore spot?” asked Dean.
Castiel looked pained. “I will try to explain. I have a gift, more so than any of my brothers. They said the first words that escaped from my lips were Enochian. Our language. It is how we talk to each other, even when we are apart. The dear language of our Father. But, maybe for this reason, I have never felt so comfortable speaking English. It is still in some ways like a foreign language to me. So I cannot make English sentences that are fair, like Balthazar or Raphael.”
“Or like Lucifer?” asked Dean.
“Lucifer. His words are graceful. But, there is poison in him, Dean.”
“Yeah, I felt that too. And what the fuck is up with the beret?”
Castiel looked at Dean, astonished. And then the almost-smile ticked briefly – ever so briefly – into the full smile category.
Dean smiled too, thinking he could bask for a week in a smile like that.
“I told you so,” said Sam. “I told you about the spirits. Didn't I?”
Castiel walked along with Sam Winchester, enjoying the light fall breeze, kicking orange and red and brown leaves that had fallen in his pathway.
For once Dean hadn't pulled detention. He was actually at the library, frantically trying to get a report done. Castiel's features formed into a slight smile. Somehow, between himself and Sam, they were shaping Dean into a decent student. He and Sam had decided that next year they would both begin to bother Dean about attending college: maybe a community college, if that's what he felt suited him.
Cas liked conspiring with Sam. He regretted not for the first time that of all of his brothers, he didn't have a single one he felt so comfortable with. But no matter. His Father had never seen fit to give him a real little brother, so he would take Sam Winchester.
“Cas! You're zoning again!” whined Sam.
“I'm not zoning. I'm listening to the angels talk.”
“What. Really?”
Cas smiled mysteriously. “Just thinking. You know, the problem might not lie in the spirits. Perhaps there is some issue among the reapers.”
“Reapers? You mean the bad dude with the scythe?”
“It is more complicated than that. There is more than one person who escorts souls to the afterlife. Those are the reapers. They are the children of Death, the pale rider.”
“Oh. So it's like Santa and his helpers?” asked Sam.
“I don't think I understand that reference,” said Castiel. “But I am beginning to believe, if your theory is correct, that the best place for answers would be to attempt and evocation.”
“Oooo, you mean a summoning spell?” asked Sam.
“Yes, that is correct. Yes. I have access to an Enochian text, a grimoire, and I believe we could put together the spell.”
“So, we go summon one of those reaper guys?”
“Well, no, I thought to go straight to the top. I thought to summon Death.”
Sam froze in his tracks.
“Um. If you think that's OK, Sam?” asked Castiel.
“Castiel,” said Sam. “You are like the coolest friend ever!” said Sam. “We're gonna summon Death! It will be so bitchin'!”
But as it turned out, the summoning spell was a little more difficult than Castiel had imagined. A few of the ingredients were more than a little esoteric.
“Unicorn blood? But, I thought they didn't exist!' said Sam as they sat together in the Winchester living room, playing Radioactive Zombie Town 2.
“Is that what they tell you?” wondered Castiel, not taking his eyes from the screen. Just a few more of the loathsome undead, and he would certainly meet the boss.
“Where do you get a unicorn?” asked Sam.
“You get a virgin! That's the tricky part!” laughed Gabriel.
Sam and Cas both turned around in surprise, Cas because his annoying brother annoyed him, and Sam because he wasn't used to people suddenly appearing in his living room.
“Gabriel! What are you doing here?” demanded Cas.
“You could volunteer for that, Cassie. Why do you want a unicorn, anyway?” asked Gabriel, thumbing through the hot rod magazines that were tossed on the coffee table. “Hey, where does Dean keep the good stuff.”
“Gabriel?” asked Sam.
“This is my brother Gabriel. Who was just leaving,” said Castiel.
“Hang on,” said Gabriel, who disappeared. But then he reappeared seconds later, still sitting on the couch, but this time holding a Busty Asian Beauties magazine. “Ah, under the bed. Your boyfriend is so predictable.”
“How did he do that?” asked Sam.
“Gabriel's specialty is being as irritating as possible,” said Cas.
“C'mon Cas! I'm bored,” said Gabriel, tossing down the magazine. “I went to surprise Lucy at school in Berkeley, and he just got pissy and sent me back.”
“Why would he do that?” asked Castiel, curious despite himself. He didn't much care for Lucifer, but he had always been close to Gabriel.
Gabriel shrugged. “And maybe I could help you. You need a unicorn?”
“Unicorn blood,” said Sam, who was actually distracted from his video game.
“Oh, is that all. Mike keeps some.”
“What. Really? How do you know this?” asked Castiel.
“Balthazar says he was really into alchemy for a time in high school. Before he got sort of douchey. There's a ton of stuff still in the basement.”
“I don't like going down there,” shuddered Castiel. Sam looked at him. “Spiders,” he explained.
Gabriel grinned and disappeared. And then was back, standing over Cas, holding out his hand.
Castiel rose and tentatively held out his hand.
Into which Gabriel dropped a spider.
Giving a small cry, Cas jumped back and dropped the spider.
“Gabriel! Quit being a dick!” said Sam, who jumped up and made to stomp the spider.
“Wait,” said Gabriel. “Wait.” He bent down and picked up the spider, which he let run between his hands.
“Could you just go pop back to wherever fluffy cloud you popped out of?” groused Sam.
“What if I help you guys?” asked Gabriel, watching the spider scrabble through his hands.
“What do you want, Gabriel?” sighed Castiel.
“Cas! Just banish this dude!” said Sam.
“Oh, he couldn't do that if he wanted to,” said Gabriel.
Castiel looked at Sam, and then towards Gabriel. A slight smiled traced his features.
“Don't send me away! Please!” said Gabriel. “I could help! Like I said.”
“What do you want, Gabriel?” Castiel repeated.
Gabriel let the spider come to rest on his hand. And then he passed his other hand over it, and it disappeared. “Just.... Tell me what you're doing. What you need it for.”
Cas and Sam exchanged a glance. Sam nodded. “We're performing an evocation.”
“Oh. What are you summoning?”
“Death.”
Gabriel blinked. “Damn, brother. You don't fuck around.” He grinned.
“Will you assist us?” asked Castiel.
Gabriel passed a hand over his hand again. Now he was holding a test tube. Castiel reached out his hand once again, and took it. There was a dark red liquid in the tube.
“Is that unicorn blood?” asked Sam.
“Yes, I believe it is,” said Castiel. “All right, so you are useful for rooting around in our basement,” he told Gabriel. “Can you do anything that's actually difficult?”
“What do you got?” said Gabriel.
Castiel glanced at Sam again, and then went to his book bag and pulled out a crumbling old volume. He turned to where there was, oddly enough, a sticky note jammed between the pages. His finger traced down the list of ingredients, finally resting on a line of text. It was not in English.
“The bones of a … blessed … person?” read a hesitant sounding Gabriel.
“A saint's bones. In English,” said Cas.
“You don't read angel?” Sam asked Gabriel.
“How often does it come up to read ancient Enochian?” groused Gabriel. “Anyway, where would you find a saint around this shithole?”
“There is reputed to be a vast collection of holy objects in an old convent just outside of town,” said Castiel. He grabbed Sam's laptop and found the web site. “This is a web site that features pictures of abandoned places,” said Castiel. “I guess this site has been boarded up for decades, but it should be some place you'd have no problem getting into, Gabriel.”
Gabriel looked at the photos. “You have any photos of what I'm looking for?”
“Yes, there is supposed to be a fragment of a saint's thigh bone,” said Castiel. “But I don't know where it would be.”
Gabriel actually stopped to think. Which didn't happen terribly often. “It might go quicker if you guys came with,” he said.
“We could go along when you do the blinky thing?” asked Sam eagerly.
Castiel scowled. “Gabriel. You will take me along. And then bring me back?”
“Yeah, sure, of course.”
“Wait, I wanna go too,” whined Sam.
“It would go quicker with three guys,” said Gabriel.
“Gabriel,” warned Castiel.
“Come on, Cas! Don't be so fucking suspicious all the time,” pleaded Gabriel.
“You conduct yourself in a suspicious manner. All the time,” said Castiel.
Gabriel sighed. “No funny business. I wanna do this. With you guys. OK?”
Castiel looked at Sam. “Perhaps tomorrow, after school? Dean ought to be late again, finishing the report.”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” said Sam.
“Oh, waitaminnit!” said Gabriel. “Are you guys telling me Dean doesn't know?”
Now Cas and Sam looked guilty. “We didn't think it was appropriate. To tell him. As of yet,” said Castiel.
“We didn't think we could get everything!” said Sam.
“And you didn't want Deano to tell you it's a dumb ass idea?” guessed Gabriel.
“It's not a dumb ass idea!” protested Castiel. “It is a smart ass idea!”
Gabriel snorted. “It's OK, Cassie. Your secret's safe with me. Hey, I like sneaky Cas! You should do bad stuff more often!”
“Speaking of bad,” said Castiel, “Gabriel, aren't you in Dean's history class.”
“Uh, yeah, so what?” muttered Gabriel.
“Wait, you would have the report too?” said Sam.
“I have it taken care of!” said Gabriel.
“Michael was concerned about your grades,” said Castiel. “I don't think he was kidding about clipping your wings.”
“Oh my god. Lucifer would never clip my wings! That's just dumb! And besides,” said Gabriel. “Like I said, I got it taken care of.”
“OK. If you say so. Then we will meet here, tomorrow, after class?” asked Castiel.
“I'll be here with feathers,” said Gabriel. “Catch you on the flipside!” And then he was gone, in a soft rustle of wings.
“So, you think your brothers are gonna bust him?” asked Sam.
“Yes. They would compromise his wings in a way that he could not use his grace for a time,” said Castiel.
“Is it really snip-snip? Like you do with a parrot?” asked Sam.
“Yes, it is really snip-snip,” said Castiel, a smile tracing his features.
“But you can't pop in and out? Like he can?”
“I'm not old enough yet. Evidently,” sighed Castiel.
“Ooooooh! You mean it's like growing a beard?”
“Maybe?”
“Because, Dean shaves, but I don't yet, but I'm getting a mustache!” said Sam. “See?”
Castiel carefully studied the peach fuzz on Sam's upper lip. “Why, yes, that is very impressive.”
“And I'm getting really tall. I keep outgrowing my jeans. I don't care how tall I get, as long as I'm taller than Dean!”
“I don't know if Dean would like that,” said Castiel. “Should we continue slaying zombies?” he asked, pointing to the Nintendo.
“Oh, yeah sure.” They sat down and grabbed the controllers and began once again slaying the undead. “So, you don't like spiders?” asked Sam.
“No,” said Castiel.
“I guess everybody has something. You know what I don't like? Slugs! Ewwww! I can't even be in the same room. Dean has to take them out of the room for me.”
“Is Dean scared of something?”
“I don't think Dean is scared of anything! Except maybe....”
“What?”
“Except maybe our dad.”
Sam Winchester spun, disoriented. He tried to figure out exactly when his life had turned into something amazingly awesome.
He had just got flown by an angel – an angel – and got dumped in a big spooky house to go look for saint's bones.
He thought his head might explode. Seriously.
Cas cast an irritable glance at Gabriel and clicked on his flashlight. Sam did the same. Funny, though Sam had no problem believing his friend Castiel was an angel, his brother Gabe just didn't look the part. He could imagine Cas as a statue, with a sword and the wings, getting vengeance or something. The shorter boy seemed more like – Sam didn't know – an imp or something. He figured they were brothers, though, because they were always picking on each other and arguing about stupid stuff.
“This is a big joint,” said Gabriel, waving his flashlight around.
“Yes, could you do some reconnaissance, Gabriel?” asked Castiel.
“English!”
Castiel sighed. “Have a look around?”
Gabriel nodded and winked out. Sam noticed this place looked like it had been abandoned for a long while. All the furniture was covered in sheets, and the sheets were dusty as hell. He wondered if they should have brought face masks as well as flashlights.
“He'd better return,” said Castiel.
“He's not such a bad guy,” offered Sam.
“Yes he is,” sighed Castiel. “My brothers.... I don't know what my Father was thinking, sometimes.”
“Gabe seems all right,” said Sam. “And Dean says he likes Balthy OK.”
“Balthazar is … OK. Sometimes,” allowed Castiel.
“Welllll,” said Gabriel who had just popped back in. “I think I found were they stashed the saint McNuggets. But you ain't gonna like it, Cassie.” He held up his hand. It was trailing in cobwebs.
Castiel shuddered.
It was fortunate, as it turns out, that Gabriel was along, as Sam thought they never would have found the crawl space. It was apparently only accessible from a darkened stairway, through a partially hidden hatchway between the second and third floors.
They had remembered to bring a crow bar, which was the only way to get the door opened, as the hinges had long since rusted. A terrible musty smell emitted as they cast their flashlights inside.
“Oh, wow, Indy Jones!” said Sam appreciatively.
“Yuck,” said Castiel simply, staring at all the boxes and crates. There was dust everywhere, including cobwebs so old they were dusty, and what looked like rodent droppings in the corners.
“I guess we just start pulling boxes,” said Sam, who was squatting near the entrance.
“I will.... I will enter and pass them out,” said Castiel.
“OK, and we'll open 'em and poke inside,” said Sam.
“Oh, I was just going to stand here and look pretty,” offered Gabriel. He blinked as Castiel aimed the flashlight directly at him.
“I'd say you fail at that,” said Castiel, who steeled himself and stepped inside the space.
“When did you teach him to joke?” Gabriel asked Sam, who giggled.
It was slow going, and, for the person unlucky enough to be inside the crawlspace, incredibly grubby. Although Castiel didn't complain, Gabriel was apparently sympathetic enough that he took a turn inside, passing out boxes, many of which turned out to be nun's habits, or Christmas lights, or other such mundanities.
“Are you guys sure this is the right place?” asked Gabriel, shaking away a cobweb.
Sam passed a hand over his sweaty forehead. Even he had gotten grimy as hell, though he was too small to be a hand at passing out the boxes. Though Cas was skinny and Gabe was short, the brothers were amazingly strong. So he had taken to being the crowbar guy. Fortunately, Dean had showed him how to use one, which he was doing right now.
Cas stumbled out of the crawlspace again. His pant legs were now slicked black from the grime, and his hair was full of cobwebs. He looked miserable.
“This is gonna take a day,” grumbled Gabriel, who was quite dirty himself.
“That crate!” said Castiel, pointing to the box Sam had just opened. Sam was getting tired as well as grubby, and opening the box, he had overbalanced and ended up falling on his ass. Cas was over, immediately rummaging around inside.
The contents were much different than any of the other crates they had opened. There were little funny metal containers. “Reliquaries!” said Castiel. “Now we just need to find the right one.” He popped off the lid. “No, this is a bit of the cross,” he muttered, replacing the lid and setting it aside.
“Uh, how can you tell?” asked Gabriel. Sam nodded, surprised that this wasn't just some kind of angel thing.
“You can't?” asked Castiel. “This is a tooth, but I don't think it counts for bones.” He set the reliquary aside. He reached in and grabbed a box inside the box. “Can you get this, Sam?”
“Cool!” said Sam, showing the skull. “This counts, right?”
“No, that's not a true saint,” said Cas, who was still rummaging in the box.
“It's pretty cool, though. Can I take it for my room?” asked Gabriel.
“Gabe!” said Sam. “Not cool!”
“He doesn't need it! He's dead!” reasoned Gabriel.
“She,” said Castiel. “Oh, here we are!” He raised a small, dented reliquary in triumph. “This is a sliver of Saint Gertrude's thigh bone!”
“Saint Gertrude? Lame. I thought maybe we'd at least get a hot saint,” said Gabriel.
“She oversees souls in Purgatory! I believe that is important,” lectured Castiel.
“So. We're done?” asked Sam.
“We're done!” said Castiel. “Gabriel, can you get us back? And don't try to take that skull!”
“Aw,” said Gabriel, tossing the skull back in the crate. “OK, ready, set-”
Sam nearly barfed. He hadn't quite been prepared, and he was sort of light-headed from all the dust. But, anyway, here they were, back at his house. When his head stopped spinning, he looked around at Cas and Gabe. He laughed.
“Whatsa matter?” asked Gabriel.
“I didn't realize how dirty we'd gotten in the dark there!” said Sam. He looked at his own arms. “Aw, crap! Cas, we need to get cleaned up before Dean gets home.”
“You see, that's another thing about fledging,” said Gabriel smugly. He snapped his fingers, and he was suddenly sparkling clean, from head to toe. He grinned, and Sam could have sworn his teeth were even whiter.
“Yeah, don't rub it in,” grumbled Castiel.
“Hey, isn't that the roar of the Impala I hear?” asked Gabriel, putting his hand up to his ear. He held out a hand, and tossed a skull up in the air and caught it. “Well, catch you on the flipside,” he said, and, with a grin and a beating of wings, he was gone.
“Shit, is that Dean?” asked Sam, just as the front door opened.
“Hey, you guys getting hungry! I thought we could call out for.... What the fuck?” asked Dean, getting a look at the grubby twosome. “What the hell have you guys been up to?”
“Uh. Nothing?” said Castiel, awkwardly hiding the reliquary behind his back.
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Cas; Sam, John, Bobby, Gabriel, Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazar, Joshua, Death
Warnings: Cursing.
Word Count: 38,000 total
Summary: John abandons teenaged Sam and Dean in Sioux Falls for the school year, where our young hunters-to-be befriend a strange boy who claims he and his brothers are angels of the Lord. Well, he's got a pretty cool sword anyway. The plot thickens when young Sammy wonders why there are so many restless spooks in the neighborhood, leading the boys to decide that calling out for pizza and Death is a wicked awesome idea. Hijinks ensue.
Notes: This is a high school AU, but since I can never do these things correctly, angels are still angels. (And some of them are still dickbags.)
So, thought Dean dryly, here I am nesting with my best buddy, the angel of the Lord.
Indeed, both boys were perched up in a tree. Down below a raw, bloody roast dangled from a low branch. Dean knew werewolves preferred live prey, but he had also heard, if they got hungry enough, they’d go ahead and snag some raw meat. And this was smack dab in the middle of the alleged werewolf’s usual hunting grounds.
Dean stifled a yawn and glanced over at Cas, who was staring downwards, immovable as a statue. Dean had to admit, Cas appeared pretty natural up here. In the big overcoat he looked like some kind of bird of prey, crouching there.
If there was one goal for the night, though Dean could scarcely admit it, it was to look cool. Ever since Cas had more or less saved his ass from those vampires, Dean had longed for his new friend to see him succeed on a hunt. After all, that’s what he did! And now, hearing Cas had also been kicking ass with Sammy’s bullies, the longing in Dean was only more pronounced.
Dean had debriefed Sammy about the dinner at the Malakhim household, of course, in great detail, and repeatedly. But, Dean was just realizing, he had barely talked about it with Cas. Cas for his part had seemed genuinely worried that he would no longer be Dean's friend, so Dean had just mouthed some platitudes about how everyone thought their family was weird, and then they had all moved on to planning this werewolf seige. But Dean wondered: how could they be angels? Maybe they were a family of traveling magicians, or something? Or maybe tricksters? They were supposed to be able to pull off illusions like that.
Dean had forged a shitload of silver bullets, but just one gun. Cas didn't know how to operate firearms, and Dean didn't think it was safe to teach him in the short time until the full moon. Maybe they would take him out to Uncle Bobby's at some point. But meantime, he seemed to do well enough with his sword and his fists, so they would leave well enough alone.
And besides, they had the advantage of numbers this time: two hunters, one werewolf. Everything was cake. Chocolate cake!
Well, almost everything. Dean had guzzled a couple cups of coffee before he climbed the tree, and his bladder was definitely feeling it. He looked around and saw all clear. But he didn't want to look like a dork in front of Cas. On the other hand, peeing your pants when fighting a werewolf would probably be pretty lame.
Dean paused. Was that a rustling sound?
“Cas, did you hear-?
“Yes. It sounded very like-”
“That sound Gabe makes when he winks in or out?” continued Dean. It sounded like soft wing beats. “Hey, look, I gotta take a leak, anyway,” said Dean. “Why don't I got down and take a look.”
“Take care. I will continue to keep watch from up here.”
Dean clambered down the tree and, being sure to take a careful look around first, ran a short distance away, into a copse of trees. He was immediately glad he had decided to take a break: his back teeth were swimming.
He zipped up and froze. He was sure he heard something. Or rather felt something.
Slowly, with the feeling that something was watching him, and gripping the gun, he turned.
It was on him before he could cry out. He was flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him, being throttled.
Not clawed, came a part of his brain. Strangled.
A sound, a falling body: Cas had leapt from the tree and now a familiar sword flicked through the figure.
“Cas!” Dean choked, flailing for something in his belt.
Another flick, as the angel blade sailed right through without effect.
“Not werewolf!” Dean sputtered. His hand was on the hilt, and he flipped it to Cas. “Spirit.”
Cas grabbed the cold steel knife. One flick, and the ghost dissipated.
Cas' hand was reaching down. Dean reached out and felt himself yanked to his feet.
“Spirits?” asked Castiel. “This is not a graveyard, nor a consecrated place.”
Dean, holding his bruised throat, pointed.
Cas whirled, and cut through two more spirits, which blinked out to the iron.
“Shit. What the-?” But then there were several more. Dean watched helplessly as Cas temporarily banished them, but then his ears picked up the sound.
“Wolf!” cried Dean.
“Get it! I'll take care of these,” said Cas.
Dean, gripping his revolver, ran back towards the tree, where indeed there was now a hairy monster clawing at their suspended raw meat.
Trying to still his beating heart, Dean aimed.
And ducked. He was nearly beheaded by another crazy raging spirit. What the fuck? What the actual fuck?
The commotion, unfortunately, alerted the wolf, which leapt at him. Dean had no time to aim, and the gun went off, wasting a bullet. Now he was on his back again, inches from the beast's fangs. He brought up his knees and kicked as hard as he could, throwing it off of him. He scrambled to his knees, aimed again, and just as it was rounding to leap, got off a clean shot to the chest.
The beast let out a gasp, and then shuddered and collapsed. Dean pushed himself to his feet and watched as slowly, the monster morphed back to a dead human. He squatted down near the body. Poor guy. He looked like some homeless dude, although that might have just been the effect of living as a werewolf, Dean didn't know. He spotted the original bite mark on the guy's neck, and self-consciously felt his own. He had come scary close to getting himself killed or were-cursed.
He heard movement. Cas had returned, looking frazzled.
“So many of them,” said Cas, handing Dean back the steel knife.
“Why so many spirits here?” asked Dean, tucking the blade back in his belt.
“His victims,” said Castiel, pointing to the body. “They dissipated quite suddenly though.”
Dean scratched his head. “Maybe when I pasted the werewolf? That released them somehow?”
“Those souls should have been reaped,” said Castiel, shaking his head. “There is something not right here!”
“Yeah, Sammy's been talking about it. Well, we need to salt and burn this guy now.”
Cas nodded, and they took a trip to the Impala's trunk. They ended up burying the guy's ashes in a shallow grave in the shade of the tree where they had been hiding. Dean yawned over the shovel, sincerely hoping this would give the poor dude some peace. It wasn't a good life, being a werewolf. He wondered again over Lucifer's odd remarks the other night.
“Cas, you know what your brother said, about us wrecking the ecosystem?”
“Lucifer,” rasped Cas.
“Is this a sore spot?” asked Dean.
Castiel looked pained. “I will try to explain. I have a gift, more so than any of my brothers. They said the first words that escaped from my lips were Enochian. Our language. It is how we talk to each other, even when we are apart. The dear language of our Father. But, maybe for this reason, I have never felt so comfortable speaking English. It is still in some ways like a foreign language to me. So I cannot make English sentences that are fair, like Balthazar or Raphael.”
“Or like Lucifer?” asked Dean.
“Lucifer. His words are graceful. But, there is poison in him, Dean.”
“Yeah, I felt that too. And what the fuck is up with the beret?”
Castiel looked at Dean, astonished. And then the almost-smile ticked briefly – ever so briefly – into the full smile category.
Dean smiled too, thinking he could bask for a week in a smile like that.
“I told you so,” said Sam. “I told you about the spirits. Didn't I?”
Castiel walked along with Sam Winchester, enjoying the light fall breeze, kicking orange and red and brown leaves that had fallen in his pathway.
For once Dean hadn't pulled detention. He was actually at the library, frantically trying to get a report done. Castiel's features formed into a slight smile. Somehow, between himself and Sam, they were shaping Dean into a decent student. He and Sam had decided that next year they would both begin to bother Dean about attending college: maybe a community college, if that's what he felt suited him.
Cas liked conspiring with Sam. He regretted not for the first time that of all of his brothers, he didn't have a single one he felt so comfortable with. But no matter. His Father had never seen fit to give him a real little brother, so he would take Sam Winchester.
“Cas! You're zoning again!” whined Sam.
“I'm not zoning. I'm listening to the angels talk.”
“What. Really?”
Cas smiled mysteriously. “Just thinking. You know, the problem might not lie in the spirits. Perhaps there is some issue among the reapers.”
“Reapers? You mean the bad dude with the scythe?”
“It is more complicated than that. There is more than one person who escorts souls to the afterlife. Those are the reapers. They are the children of Death, the pale rider.”
“Oh. So it's like Santa and his helpers?” asked Sam.
“I don't think I understand that reference,” said Castiel. “But I am beginning to believe, if your theory is correct, that the best place for answers would be to attempt and evocation.”
“Oooo, you mean a summoning spell?” asked Sam.
“Yes, that is correct. Yes. I have access to an Enochian text, a grimoire, and I believe we could put together the spell.”
“So, we go summon one of those reaper guys?”
“Well, no, I thought to go straight to the top. I thought to summon Death.”
Sam froze in his tracks.
“Um. If you think that's OK, Sam?” asked Castiel.
“Castiel,” said Sam. “You are like the coolest friend ever!” said Sam. “We're gonna summon Death! It will be so bitchin'!”
But as it turned out, the summoning spell was a little more difficult than Castiel had imagined. A few of the ingredients were more than a little esoteric.
“Unicorn blood? But, I thought they didn't exist!' said Sam as they sat together in the Winchester living room, playing Radioactive Zombie Town 2.
“Is that what they tell you?” wondered Castiel, not taking his eyes from the screen. Just a few more of the loathsome undead, and he would certainly meet the boss.
“Where do you get a unicorn?” asked Sam.
“You get a virgin! That's the tricky part!” laughed Gabriel.
Sam and Cas both turned around in surprise, Cas because his annoying brother annoyed him, and Sam because he wasn't used to people suddenly appearing in his living room.
“Gabriel! What are you doing here?” demanded Cas.
“You could volunteer for that, Cassie. Why do you want a unicorn, anyway?” asked Gabriel, thumbing through the hot rod magazines that were tossed on the coffee table. “Hey, where does Dean keep the good stuff.”
“Gabriel?” asked Sam.
“This is my brother Gabriel. Who was just leaving,” said Castiel.
“Hang on,” said Gabriel, who disappeared. But then he reappeared seconds later, still sitting on the couch, but this time holding a Busty Asian Beauties magazine. “Ah, under the bed. Your boyfriend is so predictable.”
“How did he do that?” asked Sam.
“Gabriel's specialty is being as irritating as possible,” said Cas.
“C'mon Cas! I'm bored,” said Gabriel, tossing down the magazine. “I went to surprise Lucy at school in Berkeley, and he just got pissy and sent me back.”
“Why would he do that?” asked Castiel, curious despite himself. He didn't much care for Lucifer, but he had always been close to Gabriel.
Gabriel shrugged. “And maybe I could help you. You need a unicorn?”
“Unicorn blood,” said Sam, who was actually distracted from his video game.
“Oh, is that all. Mike keeps some.”
“What. Really? How do you know this?” asked Castiel.
“Balthazar says he was really into alchemy for a time in high school. Before he got sort of douchey. There's a ton of stuff still in the basement.”
“I don't like going down there,” shuddered Castiel. Sam looked at him. “Spiders,” he explained.
Gabriel grinned and disappeared. And then was back, standing over Cas, holding out his hand.
Castiel rose and tentatively held out his hand.
Into which Gabriel dropped a spider.
Giving a small cry, Cas jumped back and dropped the spider.
“Gabriel! Quit being a dick!” said Sam, who jumped up and made to stomp the spider.
“Wait,” said Gabriel. “Wait.” He bent down and picked up the spider, which he let run between his hands.
“Could you just go pop back to wherever fluffy cloud you popped out of?” groused Sam.
“What if I help you guys?” asked Gabriel, watching the spider scrabble through his hands.
“What do you want, Gabriel?” sighed Castiel.
“Cas! Just banish this dude!” said Sam.
“Oh, he couldn't do that if he wanted to,” said Gabriel.
Castiel looked at Sam, and then towards Gabriel. A slight smiled traced his features.
“Don't send me away! Please!” said Gabriel. “I could help! Like I said.”
“What do you want, Gabriel?” Castiel repeated.
Gabriel let the spider come to rest on his hand. And then he passed his other hand over it, and it disappeared. “Just.... Tell me what you're doing. What you need it for.”
Cas and Sam exchanged a glance. Sam nodded. “We're performing an evocation.”
“Oh. What are you summoning?”
“Death.”
Gabriel blinked. “Damn, brother. You don't fuck around.” He grinned.
“Will you assist us?” asked Castiel.
Gabriel passed a hand over his hand again. Now he was holding a test tube. Castiel reached out his hand once again, and took it. There was a dark red liquid in the tube.
“Is that unicorn blood?” asked Sam.
“Yes, I believe it is,” said Castiel. “All right, so you are useful for rooting around in our basement,” he told Gabriel. “Can you do anything that's actually difficult?”
“What do you got?” said Gabriel.
Castiel glanced at Sam again, and then went to his book bag and pulled out a crumbling old volume. He turned to where there was, oddly enough, a sticky note jammed between the pages. His finger traced down the list of ingredients, finally resting on a line of text. It was not in English.
“The bones of a … blessed … person?” read a hesitant sounding Gabriel.
“A saint's bones. In English,” said Cas.
“You don't read angel?” Sam asked Gabriel.
“How often does it come up to read ancient Enochian?” groused Gabriel. “Anyway, where would you find a saint around this shithole?”
“There is reputed to be a vast collection of holy objects in an old convent just outside of town,” said Castiel. He grabbed Sam's laptop and found the web site. “This is a web site that features pictures of abandoned places,” said Castiel. “I guess this site has been boarded up for decades, but it should be some place you'd have no problem getting into, Gabriel.”
Gabriel looked at the photos. “You have any photos of what I'm looking for?”
“Yes, there is supposed to be a fragment of a saint's thigh bone,” said Castiel. “But I don't know where it would be.”
Gabriel actually stopped to think. Which didn't happen terribly often. “It might go quicker if you guys came with,” he said.
“We could go along when you do the blinky thing?” asked Sam eagerly.
Castiel scowled. “Gabriel. You will take me along. And then bring me back?”
“Yeah, sure, of course.”
“Wait, I wanna go too,” whined Sam.
“It would go quicker with three guys,” said Gabriel.
“Gabriel,” warned Castiel.
“Come on, Cas! Don't be so fucking suspicious all the time,” pleaded Gabriel.
“You conduct yourself in a suspicious manner. All the time,” said Castiel.
Gabriel sighed. “No funny business. I wanna do this. With you guys. OK?”
Castiel looked at Sam. “Perhaps tomorrow, after school? Dean ought to be late again, finishing the report.”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” said Sam.
“Oh, waitaminnit!” said Gabriel. “Are you guys telling me Dean doesn't know?”
Now Cas and Sam looked guilty. “We didn't think it was appropriate. To tell him. As of yet,” said Castiel.
“We didn't think we could get everything!” said Sam.
“And you didn't want Deano to tell you it's a dumb ass idea?” guessed Gabriel.
“It's not a dumb ass idea!” protested Castiel. “It is a smart ass idea!”
Gabriel snorted. “It's OK, Cassie. Your secret's safe with me. Hey, I like sneaky Cas! You should do bad stuff more often!”
“Speaking of bad,” said Castiel, “Gabriel, aren't you in Dean's history class.”
“Uh, yeah, so what?” muttered Gabriel.
“Wait, you would have the report too?” said Sam.
“I have it taken care of!” said Gabriel.
“Michael was concerned about your grades,” said Castiel. “I don't think he was kidding about clipping your wings.”
“Oh my god. Lucifer would never clip my wings! That's just dumb! And besides,” said Gabriel. “Like I said, I got it taken care of.”
“OK. If you say so. Then we will meet here, tomorrow, after class?” asked Castiel.
“I'll be here with feathers,” said Gabriel. “Catch you on the flipside!” And then he was gone, in a soft rustle of wings.
“So, you think your brothers are gonna bust him?” asked Sam.
“Yes. They would compromise his wings in a way that he could not use his grace for a time,” said Castiel.
“Is it really snip-snip? Like you do with a parrot?” asked Sam.
“Yes, it is really snip-snip,” said Castiel, a smile tracing his features.
“But you can't pop in and out? Like he can?”
“I'm not old enough yet. Evidently,” sighed Castiel.
“Ooooooh! You mean it's like growing a beard?”
“Maybe?”
“Because, Dean shaves, but I don't yet, but I'm getting a mustache!” said Sam. “See?”
Castiel carefully studied the peach fuzz on Sam's upper lip. “Why, yes, that is very impressive.”
“And I'm getting really tall. I keep outgrowing my jeans. I don't care how tall I get, as long as I'm taller than Dean!”
“I don't know if Dean would like that,” said Castiel. “Should we continue slaying zombies?” he asked, pointing to the Nintendo.
“Oh, yeah sure.” They sat down and grabbed the controllers and began once again slaying the undead. “So, you don't like spiders?” asked Sam.
“No,” said Castiel.
“I guess everybody has something. You know what I don't like? Slugs! Ewwww! I can't even be in the same room. Dean has to take them out of the room for me.”
“Is Dean scared of something?”
“I don't think Dean is scared of anything! Except maybe....”
“What?”
“Except maybe our dad.”
Sam Winchester spun, disoriented. He tried to figure out exactly when his life had turned into something amazingly awesome.
He had just got flown by an angel – an angel – and got dumped in a big spooky house to go look for saint's bones.
He thought his head might explode. Seriously.
Cas cast an irritable glance at Gabriel and clicked on his flashlight. Sam did the same. Funny, though Sam had no problem believing his friend Castiel was an angel, his brother Gabe just didn't look the part. He could imagine Cas as a statue, with a sword and the wings, getting vengeance or something. The shorter boy seemed more like – Sam didn't know – an imp or something. He figured they were brothers, though, because they were always picking on each other and arguing about stupid stuff.
“This is a big joint,” said Gabriel, waving his flashlight around.
“Yes, could you do some reconnaissance, Gabriel?” asked Castiel.
“English!”
Castiel sighed. “Have a look around?”
Gabriel nodded and winked out. Sam noticed this place looked like it had been abandoned for a long while. All the furniture was covered in sheets, and the sheets were dusty as hell. He wondered if they should have brought face masks as well as flashlights.
“He'd better return,” said Castiel.
“He's not such a bad guy,” offered Sam.
“Yes he is,” sighed Castiel. “My brothers.... I don't know what my Father was thinking, sometimes.”
“Gabe seems all right,” said Sam. “And Dean says he likes Balthy OK.”
“Balthazar is … OK. Sometimes,” allowed Castiel.
“Welllll,” said Gabriel who had just popped back in. “I think I found were they stashed the saint McNuggets. But you ain't gonna like it, Cassie.” He held up his hand. It was trailing in cobwebs.
Castiel shuddered.
It was fortunate, as it turns out, that Gabriel was along, as Sam thought they never would have found the crawl space. It was apparently only accessible from a darkened stairway, through a partially hidden hatchway between the second and third floors.
They had remembered to bring a crow bar, which was the only way to get the door opened, as the hinges had long since rusted. A terrible musty smell emitted as they cast their flashlights inside.
“Oh, wow, Indy Jones!” said Sam appreciatively.
“Yuck,” said Castiel simply, staring at all the boxes and crates. There was dust everywhere, including cobwebs so old they were dusty, and what looked like rodent droppings in the corners.
“I guess we just start pulling boxes,” said Sam, who was squatting near the entrance.
“I will.... I will enter and pass them out,” said Castiel.
“OK, and we'll open 'em and poke inside,” said Sam.
“Oh, I was just going to stand here and look pretty,” offered Gabriel. He blinked as Castiel aimed the flashlight directly at him.
“I'd say you fail at that,” said Castiel, who steeled himself and stepped inside the space.
“When did you teach him to joke?” Gabriel asked Sam, who giggled.
It was slow going, and, for the person unlucky enough to be inside the crawlspace, incredibly grubby. Although Castiel didn't complain, Gabriel was apparently sympathetic enough that he took a turn inside, passing out boxes, many of which turned out to be nun's habits, or Christmas lights, or other such mundanities.
“Are you guys sure this is the right place?” asked Gabriel, shaking away a cobweb.
Sam passed a hand over his sweaty forehead. Even he had gotten grimy as hell, though he was too small to be a hand at passing out the boxes. Though Cas was skinny and Gabe was short, the brothers were amazingly strong. So he had taken to being the crowbar guy. Fortunately, Dean had showed him how to use one, which he was doing right now.
Cas stumbled out of the crawlspace again. His pant legs were now slicked black from the grime, and his hair was full of cobwebs. He looked miserable.
“This is gonna take a day,” grumbled Gabriel, who was quite dirty himself.
“That crate!” said Castiel, pointing to the box Sam had just opened. Sam was getting tired as well as grubby, and opening the box, he had overbalanced and ended up falling on his ass. Cas was over, immediately rummaging around inside.
The contents were much different than any of the other crates they had opened. There were little funny metal containers. “Reliquaries!” said Castiel. “Now we just need to find the right one.” He popped off the lid. “No, this is a bit of the cross,” he muttered, replacing the lid and setting it aside.
“Uh, how can you tell?” asked Gabriel. Sam nodded, surprised that this wasn't just some kind of angel thing.
“You can't?” asked Castiel. “This is a tooth, but I don't think it counts for bones.” He set the reliquary aside. He reached in and grabbed a box inside the box. “Can you get this, Sam?”
“Cool!” said Sam, showing the skull. “This counts, right?”
“No, that's not a true saint,” said Cas, who was still rummaging in the box.
“It's pretty cool, though. Can I take it for my room?” asked Gabriel.
“Gabe!” said Sam. “Not cool!”
“He doesn't need it! He's dead!” reasoned Gabriel.
“She,” said Castiel. “Oh, here we are!” He raised a small, dented reliquary in triumph. “This is a sliver of Saint Gertrude's thigh bone!”
“Saint Gertrude? Lame. I thought maybe we'd at least get a hot saint,” said Gabriel.
“She oversees souls in Purgatory! I believe that is important,” lectured Castiel.
“So. We're done?” asked Sam.
“We're done!” said Castiel. “Gabriel, can you get us back? And don't try to take that skull!”
“Aw,” said Gabriel, tossing the skull back in the crate. “OK, ready, set-”
Sam nearly barfed. He hadn't quite been prepared, and he was sort of light-headed from all the dust. But, anyway, here they were, back at his house. When his head stopped spinning, he looked around at Cas and Gabe. He laughed.
“Whatsa matter?” asked Gabriel.
“I didn't realize how dirty we'd gotten in the dark there!” said Sam. He looked at his own arms. “Aw, crap! Cas, we need to get cleaned up before Dean gets home.”
“You see, that's another thing about fledging,” said Gabriel smugly. He snapped his fingers, and he was suddenly sparkling clean, from head to toe. He grinned, and Sam could have sworn his teeth were even whiter.
“Yeah, don't rub it in,” grumbled Castiel.
“Hey, isn't that the roar of the Impala I hear?” asked Gabriel, putting his hand up to his ear. He held out a hand, and tossed a skull up in the air and caught it. “Well, catch you on the flipside,” he said, and, with a grin and a beating of wings, he was gone.
“Shit, is that Dean?” asked Sam, just as the front door opened.
“Hey, you guys getting hungry! I thought we could call out for.... What the fuck?” asked Dean, getting a look at the grubby twosome. “What the hell have you guys been up to?”
“Uh. Nothing?” said Castiel, awkwardly hiding the reliquary behind his back.
