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tikificTitle: Death Knocks (Flight Club, Chapter 5 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, very mild sexual situations (this chapter)
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.)
“You're gonna summon Death? Dudes, I don't believe it,” said Dean, helping himself to some more meat lover's pizza.
Castiel, who was dripping wet and practically swallowed up in one of John's old bathrobes, nodded. He picked a pepperoni off his slice and popped it into his mouth. “It was the encounter with the werewolf that gave me the idea,” he said.
“Cas, quit picking at your damn pizza and eat it! You wanna do that fledging thing so you can chase Gabriel around, right?”
Castiel sheepishly put the pizza in his mouth and chewed off a bite.
“I think we have everything now,” said Sam, holding up a list.
“This will be sweet. I don't think even Dad has ever done anything that badass,” said Dean.
“Speaking of Dad, did you finish your report?” asked Sam.
“Yeah, that's such a relief! Old Lady Walsh is a hardass.”
“I wonder how Gabriel has fared with that?” said Castiel.
“Can't he just snap his fingers and get it done?” asked Sam.
“No. For one thing, we are forbidden to use our grace like that in school. Doing the report that way, even if it were possible, would get him into even worse trouble.”
“You think he's gonna get clipped?” said Dean.
“I really hope not,” said Castiel sincerely. “I think it would be difficult for him. He appears to believe his friendship with Lucifer will protect him.”
“Eh. I don't trust that guy,” said Dan.
“Nor do I,” said Castiel. He shrugged.
“So, what, tomorrow we go?” asked Dean.
Cas and Sam exchanged a glance. Castiel nodded.
“Damn, I wish I still knew Martessa Mittelmann!” laughed Dean.
“Who was that?” asked Sam.
“You remember the goth chick?” asked Dean.
“Oh, the one who was always dressed in black with the skulls and stuff?” sighed Sam, dramatically rolling his eyes.
“That's the one! Hey, don't roll your eyes, she was cute.”
“I don't think we are doing this to, um, pick up chicks,” said Castiel.
“Dude, it sounds very weird when you say that,” said Dean.
“Really?” asked Castiel. “Oh, could I have another slice of pizza? I seem to have finished that one?”
So on the appointed day, Sam and Castiel gathered their ingredients, Castiel prepared the invocation.
And Dean called out for pizza. Extra pepperoni. With bread sticks, because it was a special occasion.
They ended up grinding the saint's bones in the coffee grinder, which Dean told them to swear never to tell John. And they fished a big salad bowl out of the kitchen for the ingredients. It ended up getting a little melty when they lit stuff up, so they ended up burying it at the back afterwards and hoping John wouldn't notice.
Castiel then said the Enochian words. Dean sat up close listening. He loved the sound of the angelic language. Especially when Cas spoke it. He couldn't really explain why, but it was just this feeling, kind of like having a beer, but also like a carnival ride.
As Castiel intoned the final words, the lights suddenly flickered dramatically, and Dean could have sworn he heard the far off sound of hoofbeats.
And then … nothing.
“You guys are sure that was supposed to work?” asked Dean.
“Uh,” said Castiel.
“We had really good sources!” said Sam.
“Hm. Well, maybe try again next time?” said Dean.
“I dunno. It was a bitch getting the saint's bones,” sighed Sam.
The three boys jumped as the doorbell rang. “Pizza!” yelled Dean, who ran for the door. “Well, something going right this evening.”
He opened the door to a tall, very pale, very dour man holding a pizza carton. Oddly, the man was not dressed like any pizza man Dean had ever seen: he was wearing a dark suit. And the pizza truck was an awesome cool old Caddy.
“Someone, I believe, ordered a pizza,” said the man, handing Dean the pizza carton.
“Hey, that is one sweet ride,” said Dean, still looking at the white Cadillac. “Hey, wait!” he called as the man brushed by him into the house.
The tall man strode over to the partly melted bowl of summoning ingredients Castiel and Sam had assembled. “Well, rather amateurish, but effective I'll admit. This is your work?” he asked the boys.
“Hey,” said Dean, holding the pizza carton, “I didn't invite you in.”
“No, you rather tried to summon me here,” said the man dryly, holding up the bowl. “Just as a matter for future reference, I have come as a courtesy. I am not so easily ordered about.”
“D-Dean,” said Castiel, who was trembling. “This is Death.”
“Death? Cool!” said Sam.
“Oh. Want some pizza, Death?” asked Dean, as he wasn’t quite sure what else to say.
“Yes, I might stay and have a slice,” said Death, helping himself to a seat. “I rather like pizza.” Dean obligingly set the pizza carton down on the coffee table, and everyone gathered around. Sam ran into the kitchen and got a roll of paper towels.
“And you didn't get anchovies,” said Death approvingly, draping a paper towel over one pant leg.
“Naw. Anchovies suck,” said Dean.
“Are you going to tell me why you summoned me, or shall I guess?” Death asked Castiel, who was the only one without a slice. He looked terrified.
Death nudged the pizza carton over towards the angel. “Come along, Castiel. I know your Father. He would not approve of you being rude to a guest.”
“You.... You know my Father?” asked Castiel, cautiously taking a slice.
“Of course. Now, can you form into words the reason for your summons?”
“Your reapers aren't doing their job!” piped up Sam.
“Aren't they?” asked Death.
“He means, there appear to be many more restless spirits here than one might expect,” said Castiel.
“Well, that was very sharp thinking, gentlemen. You are correct,” said Death. “Hum, this is not bad for take out,” he mused at the pizza.
Castiel and Sam exchanged an excited glance. “Really?” asked Sam.
“Yes. In fact, someone has warded off my reapers.”
“Do you know who?” asked Dean.
“Mm. Unfortunately, no idea. I know this all began shortly before you boys came to live here,” he told Castiel.
“Could it be demons?” asked Dean.
“Yes, that is a possibility. I of course and perhaps unfairly connected the anomaly with your birth,” he told Castiel. “But, given that you have summoned me, it appears you, at least, know nothing.”
Castiel sadly shook his head. “Do you think it was my Father's doing?”
“I do not sense His hand in it,” Death told him.
“So, we have a problem, but we don't know who's casting the hoodoo,” said Dean.
“I will give you one potential hint,” said Death. “Souls convey a power, for those who know how to use them. You might think upon your suspects, as to who might take advantage of this. Now, I am a busy man, so I haven't had time to look into this matter. I would appreciate it if, by some circumstance, you boys find out something.”
“We'll let you know!” said Sam.
“And, no need for the saints bones,” said Death, rising up. “You can just call the number on the carton. I have a cell.”
“Cool!” said Dean.
“Fascinating, really,” said Death. He had turned towards the door, but then seemed to change his mind. He approached Castiel, who seemed terrified. Death very gently put two fingers underneath Castiel's chin. “Eternal beings of light, but turned into innocent children. Or not so innocent. So you really remember nothing?” he asked Castiel. “Of your past life?”
Cas shook his head, but then said. “I think I have … gifts. I could speak and read Enochian, almost from the moment I became aware. Gabriel can use the magic of his grace. And Raphael.... He says he remembers.”
“Hum. Then you all have traces,” said Death.
“I don't remember Him. My Father.”
“Ah. Lovely gentlemen. We play chess, on occasion,” said Death. “Well, it has been charming, and I thank you for sharing your pizza. But I hope you will not take offense if I say, I hope I do not see you boys again for a very long time.” And so with a smile and a wave, Death was off.
The boys ran to the doorway to watch him go. “That is an awesome fucking car,” said Dean. “Hey, did he bring our breadsticks?”
It was late when Dean dropped off his friend at the Haunted Mansion, though it was also not yet midnight. Castiel was surprised when he went inside to be met by both Raphael and Balthazar, who had apparently been waiting up for him.
“Brothers,” said Castiel.
“Castiel,” said Balthazar. “The pale horseman was walking here, in this town, tonight.”
Castiel nodded, and tried to act casual. “We performed an evocation to summon Death,” he said, noticing with just a slight edge of pleasure that the mere name made his brothers shudder.
“You and the Winchesters?” asked Raphael. “You summoned him?”
“Yes. As you know, there is a great deal of spirit activity in this vicinity,” said Castiel. Actually, it was quite likely that his brothers did not know, as everyone else seemed too caught up in family politics to notice the outside world. “We thought to inquire about this.”
“And … what did he say?” asked Raphael.
“His reapers are being thwarted somehow,” said Castiel. “Do either of you know anything about this? He said the timing was coincident with our arrival here.”
“No,” said Raphael, who for his part did look sincerely confused. “That's very strange. Why would that be so?”
“I don't know,” admitted Balthazar. “I suppose we could ask Michael?”
Raphael frowned. “I don't know that Michael … needs to know. About this, I mean?”
Balthazar shrugged. “It's true. Perhaps we should hold off. The, uh, Gabriel … situation.”
Castiel nodded. Gabriel irked him, but on the other hand, it seemed the younger crowd was all in a bit of trouble with Michael at present. And, more importantly to Cas, alerting Michael meant alerting Lucifer. Which he was loath to do.
“Let's get to bed,” suggested Raphael. “We can discuss this tomorrow.”
“Over wine?” suggested Balthazar.
“Over a lot of wine,” sighed Raphae.
“YOU IDJITS SUMMONED DEATH?”
“Uh. Hi Uncle Bobby,” said Dean as the older man stormed into their house. It was the very next afternoon, after the summoning. Dean was actually sighing with relief. When he heard the pickup truck pull up, he had been momentarily petrified that John Winchester had returned.
“You kids are living on pizza?” asked Bobby, poking at a stack of empty cartons.
“We had pizza with Death, Uncle Bobby!” bragged Sam, who had just stood up, along with Castiel. They had been in front of the television, playing Nintendo. Castiel had actually gotten quite good on the gaming system.
“Yeah, so I heard,” said Bobby. “And what are you supposed to be?” he demanded of Castiel.
“I am Castiel Malakhim, angel of the Lord,” answered Castiel.
That seemed to throw Bobby for a loop. “You’re…?” He turned to Dean. “Dean Winchester! Your dad leaves you alone for a month, and you’re consorting with an angel? Are you out of your feeble mind, kid?”
“Cas is cool! He’s our friend!” said Sam.
“Uh. You’re not gonna tell Dad, are you?” Dean asked Bobby.
Bobby sighed and scratched under his cap. “I don’t know what the hell to do. My damn fault for not checking up on you sooner.” He looked at Castiel. “So I suppose you live up at the angel frat house?”
“I'm sorry. The what?” asked Castiel.
“You live up on the hill with your brothers?”
“Yes,” said Castiel. “Although I spend a lot of time here. Sam has taught me to play Nintendo.”
“Oh, has he?” Bobby sighed and surveyed the veritable jungle of pizza boxes and burger wrappers. “Look, why don’t you boys come out to my place for a meal that ain’t out of a box? You too, angel of the Lord,” he told Castiel.
“Can I ride in the truck?” asked Sam, who was practically bouncing with glee.
“Are these all yours?” Castiel had stopped at the threshold of Bobby's house, transfixed by the stacks and stacks and stacks of books all over the living room.
“No, I'm on the ten most wanted lists in six states for overdue liberry books. Of course they're mine!” Bobby told Castiel.
“The Lesser Key of Solomon,” said Castiel, tracing his hand over one of the bindings.
“That’s not all! Uncle Bobby has even more books! Come and see!” said Sam, grabbing Castiel by the arm and dragging him inside. “This is a great place! It’s the greatest!”
Dean and Bobby watched as a jabbering Sam dragged a still stunned Castiel upstairs for an impromptu tour.
“Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t put up any angel warding signs,” said Bobby.
“So, are they really angels?” asked Dean.
“You just killed a werewolf, and you're asking? Are you simple?” asked Bobby. “At least I figured it was you.”
“Uncle Bobby-”
“Siddown,” said Bobby. “I supposed I’m corrupting a damn minor, but you look like you could use one,” he continued, grabbing two beers and handing one to Dean. “Now, you’re supposed to pretend you never drank one before,” he told the boy as Dean expertly twisted the cap and took a healthy swig.
They both looked up to the sound of footsteps running overhead.
“The Malakhim. I do not know why He thought it would be highly amusing to reincarnate the greatest of the host in … South Fucking Dakota,” said Bobby. “But I’m gettin’ ahead of myself. This all started a little over 20 years back. You know that big place, you see it up on the hill outside o’ town as you drive in?”
“The Haunted Mansion? I’ve been there,” grinned Dean, pulling back on a longneck. “For dinner!”
“Goddammit, I should have been checkin’ in on you boys more often,” said Bobby, pushing away some books and settling back in a chair. “Well, then you know the place. It had been deserted, no one knows how long, but then suddenly one day, there’s lights on and activity. And then, well, some call in town for maids, gardeners, that kind of thing. And a nanny.”
“So, that was the first brother?”
“Yup. No one ever saw the actual head of the household, everything always seemed to be handled by middlemen. No one in town cared too much, because it meant jobs for some. They tended to go for the close mouthed types.”
“Yeah, and it’s social suicide to ask about those guys in school,” agreed Dean.
“Some things haven’t changed. But the next year, there’s supposedly another brother. And then the next year, the same. No word at all of a mother and father. But no one here seemed to care.
“Now, folks like me, who live by watching signs and portents, knew something was up. Powerful, powerful entities. Off the charts. I guess we were all waiting for some fireworks, and when it never blew, some lost interest. But I kept a watch.”
“So it was the six brothers?” asked Dean.
“Seven. Seven years, seven brothers.”
“Wait. I’ve only met six.” Dean ticked off on his fingers. “Michael, Lucifer, Raph, Balthy, Gabe and Cas.”
“Josh. He’s the oldest,” said Bobby.
“I thought Michael was the oldest?”
“Nope. Though I’ve heard he’s taken over as head. Josh – Joshua – took off some years back. Not sure what he’s up to. Heard he was a nice kid.”
“Another brother who’s nothing like any of the others,” said Dean.
“Well, you know better than me. Cas was the last of ‘em, and a few years after that, there was less and less need for folks in the town to go on up there. I knew of a lady who looked after Cas when he was a mite. Would have been about the time you were born.”
“Yeah, he’s one class behind me at school,” said Dean.
“Said he was quiet as all hell. So quiet it was almost spooky. His older brother Gabe was bubbly but could be fussy as the dickens. But that was a hell of a long time ago.”
“Some things haven’t changed,” said Dean.
There was the sound of thunder coming from the stairs. Sammy was running down, leading Castiel.
“Can I show him the basement Uncle Bobby?” asked Sam. “Can I show him downstairs?”
“You have an … amazing library, Mr. Singer,” said Castiel reverently.
“Well, next time you get a mind to go invoke Death, maybe you could stop by here first,” sighed Bobby.
“Unfortunately, I do not have a vehicle,” said Castiel.
“You don't drive? How the heck old are you?” asked Bobby.
Castiel blushed. “I'm fifteen.”
“None of the guys have cars,” said Dean. “Well, except Lucifer's Prius.”
“Well, as you understand, we don't need them. Um, after we've fledged,” Castiel explained.
“Cas is still too young to fly,” said Dean, who hoped he wasn't treading on a sore spot.
“How old you gotta be?” asked Bobby.
Castiel shrugged.
“Well, since you're old enough, why don't you learn to drive while you're waiting around? Kids need cars. And I got several hunks around back you could learn on.”
“Could I show him, Uncle Bobby?” asked Sam. “Please?”
“You can drive, Sam?” asked an obviously impressed Castiel.
“Of course! But they won't let me near the Impala.”
“No one goes near Baby,” Dean laughed.
“But I drive really good! I can drive stick!” bragged Sam.
Bobby tossed Sam a set of keys. “Show him one of the automatics to get started.”
“Automatics are for pussies!” said Sam happily as he started to run outside.
“Will this be like learning Nintendo?” asked Castiel, who followed him out.
“Easier! No zombies!”
Dean laughed as his brother and his friend hastened out the door.
“They seem like bosom buddies?” said Bobby.
“I swear I didn't know this, because neither one of them told me, but some kids had been bothering Sammy since when he started. Anyway, Cas caught them picking on him, and I guess he scared the living shit out of the main bully. They've stayed away, but the brothers said the parents complained.”
“Assholes,” sighed Bobby. “You heard about the incident with Cas? Some years ago? I heard from a friend of a friend who's got kids in the school. There was this boy – he wasn't slow, he was just sort of different. Austistic I think, but it don't matter. Anyway, I guess Cas took a liking to him.
“Anyway, some little shits started picking on him. Pushed into lockers, pushed downstairs. On thing after another. And then I guess what happened is one day Cas walked in on them. Beat the crap out of 'em. Broke the bully's arm.”
“Heh. Good for Cas,” laughed Dean.
“And the parents complained of course. Here, Cas was not half as big as the kid he supposedly beat up. Anyway, Cas got written off as a bully, and whoever calls the shots in that family – Michael or Lucifer, I'm not sure – had him back off and stay away from the other kids.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. He told me when we met he spends all his lunches and breaks in the library. I assumed he was getting picked on. I never would have assumed.... I mean, seriously, the guy weighs 140 pounds dripping wet!”
“You know what they say about assuming,” said Bobby.
“But what happened to the autistic kid?”
“Folks withdrew him. Moved town, from what I understand.”
“So Cas stood up for what was right and lost his friend?”
“Seems like,” said Bobby. “Nobody said life was fair. But now you tell me, what our buddy Death had to say?”
Dean took another sip of beer and settled back into the couch. “So, Sam had this theory-”
“Sammy did?” asked Bobby.
“Yeah. There seems to be a lot of spirit activity hereabouts. So, I went to get a werewolf a while back-”
“So that was you?”
“Yeah,” admitted Dean. “Anyway, I took Cas-”
“You didn't take Sam, did you?”
“No! Uncle Bobby, are you gonna let me tell this story or what?”
Bobby made a zipping motion over his lip and waved Dean on.
“Anyway, the werewolf wasn't really a problem, but the trouble was we nearly got our heads torn off by the spirits of the victims!”
“Did they quiet down when you got the wolf?”
“Yes. It was a little strange,” said Dean.
“Strange how?”
“Well. We both – Cas and I – got the feeling there was another presence out there. Maybe we were just spooked. But, anyway, that gave Cas and Sam the idea to do this spell to talk to Death.”
“What did the man say?”
“He says that there's something blocking his reapers hereabouts. That it started before the Malakhim brothers were born, and he doesn't know what's doing it.”
“Huh,” said Bobby.
“But here's another thing: he claims that there's use for spirits. That if you know how to use them, you can get power from them?”
“That's interesting. Death said that?”
Dean nodded.
“Well, I haven't a clue, but that ain't my specialty. I'll have to do some research. There's some books on demon powers over there if you wanna grab me one.”
Dean reached over, knocking over a shoebox.
“Hey, what's this?” asked Dean.
“Oh, just a box of old photos. You might like it. Some are of your dad and me.”
Dean grinned and pulled out a bundle of photos that had been rubber banded together and took a look in the stack. Bobby looked young as hell. There were some other guys and women, probably hunters, that he didn't know.
And then he saw a photo and stopped dead.
“Bobby. Who is that?”
“Hey, that's John! That's your dad. Looking good, huh?”
“Bobby. That's Michael Malakhim. Cas' brother.”
“What?”
“They could be twins.” Which was especially weird, Dean thought, as none of the brothers looked like brothers.
“Well. Don't that beat all. Hell of a coincidence.”
“You sure it's a coincidence?” asked Dean, suddenly very unsettled.
When Dean pulled up to the Haunted Mansion that night, both he and Cas suddenly went dead silent.
There was a Prius parked in the driveway.
“Cas?” asked Dean. The angel was already scrambling out the door.
“I need to get inside,” said Cas. “Something is not right.”
“Cas!” shouted Dean. Castiel turned around. “Dude. Should I wait for you?”
Castiel cast a glance inside. He looked undecided, but then shook his head. He came back to the car. “I will meet you for lunch tomorrow my friend. All right?”
There was an undertone of pleading in his tone. “Yeah. I'll be there,” said Dean.
Castiel gulped, and then, squaring his shoulders, entered his house.
Gabriel was sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, looking like a condemned prisoner. Michael and Lucifer both stood over him, glowering. Balthazar and Raphael were there as well, Balthazar looking miserable, and Raphael staring furiously at the floor, clenching and unclenching his fists.
“You can't do this,” Gabriel pleaded.
“Our decision is final,” said Michael.
“Don't worry, little dude,” purred Lucifer. “They'll grow back.”
“What is going on?” asked Castiel, stepping boldly into the center of the room.
“Cassie,” said Balthazar, who put out a cautioning hand. Castiel ignored him.
“This is none of your concern, Castiel,” said Michael, dark eyes flashing.
“Your brother neglected another history report,” said Lucifer. “So we're just going to give him a small lesson.”
“They're gonna clip me, Cassie!” said Gabriel.
“Gabriel was unable to complete his report on time because he was assisting me … on an errand,” said Castiel. “The fault is mine.”
“Castiel,” said Michael. “This is none. Of your. Concern.”
“It will just be a very quick snip,” said Lucifer, who had his sword out. “He won't feel it at all.”
“You will not touch him,” said Castiel, who went to stand between Lucifer and Gabriel.
“Castiel, don't make things unpleasant,” purred Lucifer.
Castiel took out his sword.
“Remember, I can't clip your wings. I might have to clip your neck,” said Lucifer.
“Lucifer!” yelled Raphael. “No!”
“Enough!” barked Michael. He swing out a hand, and suddenly, Castiel went tumbling away, slamming hard into a wall. Balthazar and Raphael ran over to him. Gabriel stood, but Michael, with another gesture, slammed him back down. “Gabriel. Take out your wings. Now!”
“No!” moaned Castiel, who was lying, bleeding, in Balthazar's arms.
“Out!” Michael commanded. And the three – Cas, Balthazar, and Raphael – were suddenly standing on the other side of the door, which slammed decisively shut.
Raphael stood outside the door, breathing hard. Castiel struggled to his feet, Balthazar steadying him.
From inside the room, Gabriel screamed.
“Brother,” said Balthazar softly, holding Castiel. “We should … we should get Cassie away from here.”
Gabriel howled again.
“I will stay here,” said Raphael. “I will witness my brother's cries. Every last one. Every last one.”
Balthazar nodded. “Cassie, you come with me. I need to fix you up.”
Castiel nodded sadly and accompanied Balthazar out of the room. Balthazar sat him down in a bathroom and checked for bruises.
“Are you feeling well? Do you think anything was broken? We can keep you home from school tomorrow if you are in pain,” said Balthazar as he grabbed the iodine from the medicine cabinet.
“I do not wish to stay home from school tomorrow,” said Castiel.
“Can't say as I blame you,” sighed Balthazar, dabbing at a rivulet of blood dripping down his brother's nose. “You will be OK? Walking?”
“I did not tell you,” said Castiel. He looked up, his eyes shining with pride. “I can drive a car!”
Dean had been in such a state of worry in the morning he had completely forgotten to pack a lunch. His state of mind was not improved when he didn't see Gabriel in his history class. He hurried over to their favorite bench at lunchtime, and was surprised to see Balthazar sitting with Castiel, one arm draped protectively over his little brother, the other trailing a forbidden cigarette.
“What's going on?” asked Dean. “Oh, god, Cas, what happened?” he added, sinking down to a squat in front of his friend. He took Castiel's face in his hands. “That's some shiner!” he said, regarding the black eye.
“Gabiel got himself clipped last night, and our little Cassie thought to intervene,” explained Balthazar.
“Lucifer did this?” asked Dean.
“Michael and Lucifer,” said Balthazar, exhaling smoke.
Dean seethed. He wanted to drop everything and storm out to the house and kick the living shit out of both Michael and Lucifer. He wanted to get one of Bobby's shotguns....
“Dean,” Castiel said quietly.
“Yeah?”
Castiel was shaking his head. “My arrogance did this. Michael and Lucifer are far more powerful than I.”
“No. You did not do this to yourself. Your brothers did this, and when I get my hands on them-”
“Both are gone. For now,” said Balthazar. “Back to college. But it might be good for Castiel if he stayed out of the house tonight. It's a little miserable there. Gabriel has refused to come out of his room.”
“Cas. You wanna stay over tonight? Maybe you and Sammy could stay up too late finishing that stupid game?”
“Yes, I would like that,” said Castiel.
“What about you, Balthy?” asked Dean. “It's not cool like your house, but you could hang out.”
“Thank you, but no,” smiled Balthazar. “Some other time, though. I have rehearsals. That is the splendid thing about being a theater major: there are always rehearsals.”
“So, you want me to pick you up after school?” Dean asked Cas.
“I drove!” said Castiel.
“What?” asked Dean, who smiled despite himself.
“We were feeling like shit last night,” explained Balthazar, “and Cassie explained that your friend, a Mr. Singer, had offered him driving lessons?”
Dean laughed. “Yeah, he's been driving at Bobby's.”
“Well, we popped over, and Mr. Singer, despite his surprise at the late hour, was kind enough to let my brother borrow a vehicle.”
“It's a manual transmission! Because automatics suck!” said Castiel.
“You're driving stick?” asked Dean.
“And he also supplied a drivers license, for someone named Sidney Barrett,” said Balthazar.
“Cas, next time you see you're brother's Prius is parked there?”
“Yes?”
“Make sure to scrape the door,” said Dean, miming throwing a car door open.
Balthazar threw his head back and laughed.
Castiel almost smiled.
They had gone through two pizzas, an order of breadsticks, a couple liters of coke, and and three different video games. Dean finally had to half carry Sammy to bed, as he seemed reluctant to give up his controller.
Dean came back to the living room and sat down on the couch, opposite Castiel, who sat, contentedly, with his feet up.
“So, Gabe got his wings clipped?” asked Dean.
“It was terrible,” said Castiel, who shuddered. “I don't always get along with Gabriel, but believe he has been done a great injustice.”
“Cas,” said Dean. “Look, I don't want to be rude or insult you....”
“What is it, Dean?” asked Castiel, blue eyes inquisitive.
“So, you guys really have wings?”
“Yes, of course,” said Cas, with the almost-smile. “We are angels.”
“Well,” said Dean. “I guess it was a stupid question.” And then he asked, because he had to. “Could.... Could I see? Some time.”
To his surprise, Cas simply shrugged, casual as if Dean had asked to see his sweater or something mundane like that. “We need to go somewhere there is room,” he said, looking around.
Oh, wings were big, Dean decided, still not entirely certain what he was going to see. He followed Castiel from the cramped living room, and into the master bedroom, where Cas was going to crash. It was technically John Winchester's room, but as he had yet to spend more than a single night there, there was nothing but a bed occupying the room. There were a few boxes piled in the closet.
Cas looked around, and seemed to decide it was big enough. He didn't bother to turn on the light, as moonlight shown in the room.
Cas unbuttoned his flannel shirt and took it off, and then pulled his undershirt off over his head and tossed it on the bed. And then … well, he sort of shrugged. Dean wasn't ever quite certain. Because it was no longer Cas standing before him. This was some kind of amazing winged creature.
The wings flicked a bit, as if Cas were shaking them out, like you would a bedspread you'd tucked up in the closet for a while. But then he was hovering close, his face a mask of concern. “Dean. It's all right. Please don't be scared.”
Why is he telling me this? thought Dean, who realized it was because he was down on his knees. There were tears in his eyes.
Cas had his hands out. “Don't be afraid. It's only me. You're all right,” he repeated. Dean put out his hands and let Cas pull him up, wobbly kneed and weeping and a mess. Dean wasn't sure what had happened to him. Cas was just so … perfect. Everything was just so perfect. He had Castiel's face in his hands now, touching him gently with his fingers, afraid any whisper would damage this moment. Dean ran his fingers very gently over Cas' bruised eye, willing away the hurt his friend felt.
Cas was speaking to him, very softly now. It wasn't English, so it must be Enochian. But Dean knew what he was saying, that Dean was safe, that Dean was loved. He knew as he leaned over to kiss Cas that it would be soft and thrilling, and now his hands were moving to catch Cas' bare waist and the smooth skin there. And then he knew from the soft whisper that the graceful dark wings were enfolding him, enfolding them both, and it was all sweet and blessed, and he didn't care if Raphael was right or wrong, because God was here, in this silent moment.
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Cas; Sam, John, Bobby, Gabriel, Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazar, Joshua, Death
Warnings: Cursing, very mild sexual situations (this chapter)
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.)
“You're gonna summon Death? Dudes, I don't believe it,” said Dean, helping himself to some more meat lover's pizza.
Castiel, who was dripping wet and practically swallowed up in one of John's old bathrobes, nodded. He picked a pepperoni off his slice and popped it into his mouth. “It was the encounter with the werewolf that gave me the idea,” he said.
“Cas, quit picking at your damn pizza and eat it! You wanna do that fledging thing so you can chase Gabriel around, right?”
Castiel sheepishly put the pizza in his mouth and chewed off a bite.
“I think we have everything now,” said Sam, holding up a list.
“This will be sweet. I don't think even Dad has ever done anything that badass,” said Dean.
“Speaking of Dad, did you finish your report?” asked Sam.
“Yeah, that's such a relief! Old Lady Walsh is a hardass.”
“I wonder how Gabriel has fared with that?” said Castiel.
“Can't he just snap his fingers and get it done?” asked Sam.
“No. For one thing, we are forbidden to use our grace like that in school. Doing the report that way, even if it were possible, would get him into even worse trouble.”
“You think he's gonna get clipped?” said Dean.
“I really hope not,” said Castiel sincerely. “I think it would be difficult for him. He appears to believe his friendship with Lucifer will protect him.”
“Eh. I don't trust that guy,” said Dan.
“Nor do I,” said Castiel. He shrugged.
“So, what, tomorrow we go?” asked Dean.
Cas and Sam exchanged a glance. Castiel nodded.
“Damn, I wish I still knew Martessa Mittelmann!” laughed Dean.
“Who was that?” asked Sam.
“You remember the goth chick?” asked Dean.
“Oh, the one who was always dressed in black with the skulls and stuff?” sighed Sam, dramatically rolling his eyes.
“That's the one! Hey, don't roll your eyes, she was cute.”
“I don't think we are doing this to, um, pick up chicks,” said Castiel.
“Dude, it sounds very weird when you say that,” said Dean.
“Really?” asked Castiel. “Oh, could I have another slice of pizza? I seem to have finished that one?”
So on the appointed day, Sam and Castiel gathered their ingredients, Castiel prepared the invocation.
And Dean called out for pizza. Extra pepperoni. With bread sticks, because it was a special occasion.
They ended up grinding the saint's bones in the coffee grinder, which Dean told them to swear never to tell John. And they fished a big salad bowl out of the kitchen for the ingredients. It ended up getting a little melty when they lit stuff up, so they ended up burying it at the back afterwards and hoping John wouldn't notice.
Castiel then said the Enochian words. Dean sat up close listening. He loved the sound of the angelic language. Especially when Cas spoke it. He couldn't really explain why, but it was just this feeling, kind of like having a beer, but also like a carnival ride.
As Castiel intoned the final words, the lights suddenly flickered dramatically, and Dean could have sworn he heard the far off sound of hoofbeats.
And then … nothing.
“You guys are sure that was supposed to work?” asked Dean.
“Uh,” said Castiel.
“We had really good sources!” said Sam.
“Hm. Well, maybe try again next time?” said Dean.
“I dunno. It was a bitch getting the saint's bones,” sighed Sam.
The three boys jumped as the doorbell rang. “Pizza!” yelled Dean, who ran for the door. “Well, something going right this evening.”
He opened the door to a tall, very pale, very dour man holding a pizza carton. Oddly, the man was not dressed like any pizza man Dean had ever seen: he was wearing a dark suit. And the pizza truck was an awesome cool old Caddy.
“Someone, I believe, ordered a pizza,” said the man, handing Dean the pizza carton.
“Hey, that is one sweet ride,” said Dean, still looking at the white Cadillac. “Hey, wait!” he called as the man brushed by him into the house.
The tall man strode over to the partly melted bowl of summoning ingredients Castiel and Sam had assembled. “Well, rather amateurish, but effective I'll admit. This is your work?” he asked the boys.
“Hey,” said Dean, holding the pizza carton, “I didn't invite you in.”
“No, you rather tried to summon me here,” said the man dryly, holding up the bowl. “Just as a matter for future reference, I have come as a courtesy. I am not so easily ordered about.”
“D-Dean,” said Castiel, who was trembling. “This is Death.”
“Death? Cool!” said Sam.
“Oh. Want some pizza, Death?” asked Dean, as he wasn’t quite sure what else to say.
“Yes, I might stay and have a slice,” said Death, helping himself to a seat. “I rather like pizza.” Dean obligingly set the pizza carton down on the coffee table, and everyone gathered around. Sam ran into the kitchen and got a roll of paper towels.
“And you didn't get anchovies,” said Death approvingly, draping a paper towel over one pant leg.
“Naw. Anchovies suck,” said Dean.
“Are you going to tell me why you summoned me, or shall I guess?” Death asked Castiel, who was the only one without a slice. He looked terrified.
Death nudged the pizza carton over towards the angel. “Come along, Castiel. I know your Father. He would not approve of you being rude to a guest.”
“You.... You know my Father?” asked Castiel, cautiously taking a slice.
“Of course. Now, can you form into words the reason for your summons?”
“Your reapers aren't doing their job!” piped up Sam.
“Aren't they?” asked Death.
“He means, there appear to be many more restless spirits here than one might expect,” said Castiel.
“Well, that was very sharp thinking, gentlemen. You are correct,” said Death. “Hum, this is not bad for take out,” he mused at the pizza.
Castiel and Sam exchanged an excited glance. “Really?” asked Sam.
“Yes. In fact, someone has warded off my reapers.”
“Do you know who?” asked Dean.
“Mm. Unfortunately, no idea. I know this all began shortly before you boys came to live here,” he told Castiel.
“Could it be demons?” asked Dean.
“Yes, that is a possibility. I of course and perhaps unfairly connected the anomaly with your birth,” he told Castiel. “But, given that you have summoned me, it appears you, at least, know nothing.”
Castiel sadly shook his head. “Do you think it was my Father's doing?”
“I do not sense His hand in it,” Death told him.
“So, we have a problem, but we don't know who's casting the hoodoo,” said Dean.
“I will give you one potential hint,” said Death. “Souls convey a power, for those who know how to use them. You might think upon your suspects, as to who might take advantage of this. Now, I am a busy man, so I haven't had time to look into this matter. I would appreciate it if, by some circumstance, you boys find out something.”
“We'll let you know!” said Sam.
“And, no need for the saints bones,” said Death, rising up. “You can just call the number on the carton. I have a cell.”
“Cool!” said Dean.
“Fascinating, really,” said Death. He had turned towards the door, but then seemed to change his mind. He approached Castiel, who seemed terrified. Death very gently put two fingers underneath Castiel's chin. “Eternal beings of light, but turned into innocent children. Or not so innocent. So you really remember nothing?” he asked Castiel. “Of your past life?”
Cas shook his head, but then said. “I think I have … gifts. I could speak and read Enochian, almost from the moment I became aware. Gabriel can use the magic of his grace. And Raphael.... He says he remembers.”
“Hum. Then you all have traces,” said Death.
“I don't remember Him. My Father.”
“Ah. Lovely gentlemen. We play chess, on occasion,” said Death. “Well, it has been charming, and I thank you for sharing your pizza. But I hope you will not take offense if I say, I hope I do not see you boys again for a very long time.” And so with a smile and a wave, Death was off.
The boys ran to the doorway to watch him go. “That is an awesome fucking car,” said Dean. “Hey, did he bring our breadsticks?”
It was late when Dean dropped off his friend at the Haunted Mansion, though it was also not yet midnight. Castiel was surprised when he went inside to be met by both Raphael and Balthazar, who had apparently been waiting up for him.
“Brothers,” said Castiel.
“Castiel,” said Balthazar. “The pale horseman was walking here, in this town, tonight.”
Castiel nodded, and tried to act casual. “We performed an evocation to summon Death,” he said, noticing with just a slight edge of pleasure that the mere name made his brothers shudder.
“You and the Winchesters?” asked Raphael. “You summoned him?”
“Yes. As you know, there is a great deal of spirit activity in this vicinity,” said Castiel. Actually, it was quite likely that his brothers did not know, as everyone else seemed too caught up in family politics to notice the outside world. “We thought to inquire about this.”
“And … what did he say?” asked Raphael.
“His reapers are being thwarted somehow,” said Castiel. “Do either of you know anything about this? He said the timing was coincident with our arrival here.”
“No,” said Raphael, who for his part did look sincerely confused. “That's very strange. Why would that be so?”
“I don't know,” admitted Balthazar. “I suppose we could ask Michael?”
Raphael frowned. “I don't know that Michael … needs to know. About this, I mean?”
Balthazar shrugged. “It's true. Perhaps we should hold off. The, uh, Gabriel … situation.”
Castiel nodded. Gabriel irked him, but on the other hand, it seemed the younger crowd was all in a bit of trouble with Michael at present. And, more importantly to Cas, alerting Michael meant alerting Lucifer. Which he was loath to do.
“Let's get to bed,” suggested Raphael. “We can discuss this tomorrow.”
“Over wine?” suggested Balthazar.
“Over a lot of wine,” sighed Raphae.
“YOU IDJITS SUMMONED DEATH?”
“Uh. Hi Uncle Bobby,” said Dean as the older man stormed into their house. It was the very next afternoon, after the summoning. Dean was actually sighing with relief. When he heard the pickup truck pull up, he had been momentarily petrified that John Winchester had returned.
“You kids are living on pizza?” asked Bobby, poking at a stack of empty cartons.
“We had pizza with Death, Uncle Bobby!” bragged Sam, who had just stood up, along with Castiel. They had been in front of the television, playing Nintendo. Castiel had actually gotten quite good on the gaming system.
“Yeah, so I heard,” said Bobby. “And what are you supposed to be?” he demanded of Castiel.
“I am Castiel Malakhim, angel of the Lord,” answered Castiel.
That seemed to throw Bobby for a loop. “You’re…?” He turned to Dean. “Dean Winchester! Your dad leaves you alone for a month, and you’re consorting with an angel? Are you out of your feeble mind, kid?”
“Cas is cool! He’s our friend!” said Sam.
“Uh. You’re not gonna tell Dad, are you?” Dean asked Bobby.
Bobby sighed and scratched under his cap. “I don’t know what the hell to do. My damn fault for not checking up on you sooner.” He looked at Castiel. “So I suppose you live up at the angel frat house?”
“I'm sorry. The what?” asked Castiel.
“You live up on the hill with your brothers?”
“Yes,” said Castiel. “Although I spend a lot of time here. Sam has taught me to play Nintendo.”
“Oh, has he?” Bobby sighed and surveyed the veritable jungle of pizza boxes and burger wrappers. “Look, why don’t you boys come out to my place for a meal that ain’t out of a box? You too, angel of the Lord,” he told Castiel.
“Can I ride in the truck?” asked Sam, who was practically bouncing with glee.
“Are these all yours?” Castiel had stopped at the threshold of Bobby's house, transfixed by the stacks and stacks and stacks of books all over the living room.
“No, I'm on the ten most wanted lists in six states for overdue liberry books. Of course they're mine!” Bobby told Castiel.
“The Lesser Key of Solomon,” said Castiel, tracing his hand over one of the bindings.
“That’s not all! Uncle Bobby has even more books! Come and see!” said Sam, grabbing Castiel by the arm and dragging him inside. “This is a great place! It’s the greatest!”
Dean and Bobby watched as a jabbering Sam dragged a still stunned Castiel upstairs for an impromptu tour.
“Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t put up any angel warding signs,” said Bobby.
“So, are they really angels?” asked Dean.
“You just killed a werewolf, and you're asking? Are you simple?” asked Bobby. “At least I figured it was you.”
“Uncle Bobby-”
“Siddown,” said Bobby. “I supposed I’m corrupting a damn minor, but you look like you could use one,” he continued, grabbing two beers and handing one to Dean. “Now, you’re supposed to pretend you never drank one before,” he told the boy as Dean expertly twisted the cap and took a healthy swig.
They both looked up to the sound of footsteps running overhead.
“The Malakhim. I do not know why He thought it would be highly amusing to reincarnate the greatest of the host in … South Fucking Dakota,” said Bobby. “But I’m gettin’ ahead of myself. This all started a little over 20 years back. You know that big place, you see it up on the hill outside o’ town as you drive in?”
“The Haunted Mansion? I’ve been there,” grinned Dean, pulling back on a longneck. “For dinner!”
“Goddammit, I should have been checkin’ in on you boys more often,” said Bobby, pushing away some books and settling back in a chair. “Well, then you know the place. It had been deserted, no one knows how long, but then suddenly one day, there’s lights on and activity. And then, well, some call in town for maids, gardeners, that kind of thing. And a nanny.”
“So, that was the first brother?”
“Yup. No one ever saw the actual head of the household, everything always seemed to be handled by middlemen. No one in town cared too much, because it meant jobs for some. They tended to go for the close mouthed types.”
“Yeah, and it’s social suicide to ask about those guys in school,” agreed Dean.
“Some things haven’t changed. But the next year, there’s supposedly another brother. And then the next year, the same. No word at all of a mother and father. But no one here seemed to care.
“Now, folks like me, who live by watching signs and portents, knew something was up. Powerful, powerful entities. Off the charts. I guess we were all waiting for some fireworks, and when it never blew, some lost interest. But I kept a watch.”
“So it was the six brothers?” asked Dean.
“Seven. Seven years, seven brothers.”
“Wait. I’ve only met six.” Dean ticked off on his fingers. “Michael, Lucifer, Raph, Balthy, Gabe and Cas.”
“Josh. He’s the oldest,” said Bobby.
“I thought Michael was the oldest?”
“Nope. Though I’ve heard he’s taken over as head. Josh – Joshua – took off some years back. Not sure what he’s up to. Heard he was a nice kid.”
“Another brother who’s nothing like any of the others,” said Dean.
“Well, you know better than me. Cas was the last of ‘em, and a few years after that, there was less and less need for folks in the town to go on up there. I knew of a lady who looked after Cas when he was a mite. Would have been about the time you were born.”
“Yeah, he’s one class behind me at school,” said Dean.
“Said he was quiet as all hell. So quiet it was almost spooky. His older brother Gabe was bubbly but could be fussy as the dickens. But that was a hell of a long time ago.”
“Some things haven’t changed,” said Dean.
There was the sound of thunder coming from the stairs. Sammy was running down, leading Castiel.
“Can I show him the basement Uncle Bobby?” asked Sam. “Can I show him downstairs?”
“You have an … amazing library, Mr. Singer,” said Castiel reverently.
“Well, next time you get a mind to go invoke Death, maybe you could stop by here first,” sighed Bobby.
“Unfortunately, I do not have a vehicle,” said Castiel.
“You don't drive? How the heck old are you?” asked Bobby.
Castiel blushed. “I'm fifteen.”
“None of the guys have cars,” said Dean. “Well, except Lucifer's Prius.”
“Well, as you understand, we don't need them. Um, after we've fledged,” Castiel explained.
“Cas is still too young to fly,” said Dean, who hoped he wasn't treading on a sore spot.
“How old you gotta be?” asked Bobby.
Castiel shrugged.
“Well, since you're old enough, why don't you learn to drive while you're waiting around? Kids need cars. And I got several hunks around back you could learn on.”
“Could I show him, Uncle Bobby?” asked Sam. “Please?”
“You can drive, Sam?” asked an obviously impressed Castiel.
“Of course! But they won't let me near the Impala.”
“No one goes near Baby,” Dean laughed.
“But I drive really good! I can drive stick!” bragged Sam.
Bobby tossed Sam a set of keys. “Show him one of the automatics to get started.”
“Automatics are for pussies!” said Sam happily as he started to run outside.
“Will this be like learning Nintendo?” asked Castiel, who followed him out.
“Easier! No zombies!”
Dean laughed as his brother and his friend hastened out the door.
“They seem like bosom buddies?” said Bobby.
“I swear I didn't know this, because neither one of them told me, but some kids had been bothering Sammy since when he started. Anyway, Cas caught them picking on him, and I guess he scared the living shit out of the main bully. They've stayed away, but the brothers said the parents complained.”
“Assholes,” sighed Bobby. “You heard about the incident with Cas? Some years ago? I heard from a friend of a friend who's got kids in the school. There was this boy – he wasn't slow, he was just sort of different. Austistic I think, but it don't matter. Anyway, I guess Cas took a liking to him.
“Anyway, some little shits started picking on him. Pushed into lockers, pushed downstairs. On thing after another. And then I guess what happened is one day Cas walked in on them. Beat the crap out of 'em. Broke the bully's arm.”
“Heh. Good for Cas,” laughed Dean.
“And the parents complained of course. Here, Cas was not half as big as the kid he supposedly beat up. Anyway, Cas got written off as a bully, and whoever calls the shots in that family – Michael or Lucifer, I'm not sure – had him back off and stay away from the other kids.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. He told me when we met he spends all his lunches and breaks in the library. I assumed he was getting picked on. I never would have assumed.... I mean, seriously, the guy weighs 140 pounds dripping wet!”
“You know what they say about assuming,” said Bobby.
“But what happened to the autistic kid?”
“Folks withdrew him. Moved town, from what I understand.”
“So Cas stood up for what was right and lost his friend?”
“Seems like,” said Bobby. “Nobody said life was fair. But now you tell me, what our buddy Death had to say?”
Dean took another sip of beer and settled back into the couch. “So, Sam had this theory-”
“Sammy did?” asked Bobby.
“Yeah. There seems to be a lot of spirit activity hereabouts. So, I went to get a werewolf a while back-”
“So that was you?”
“Yeah,” admitted Dean. “Anyway, I took Cas-”
“You didn't take Sam, did you?”
“No! Uncle Bobby, are you gonna let me tell this story or what?”
Bobby made a zipping motion over his lip and waved Dean on.
“Anyway, the werewolf wasn't really a problem, but the trouble was we nearly got our heads torn off by the spirits of the victims!”
“Did they quiet down when you got the wolf?”
“Yes. It was a little strange,” said Dean.
“Strange how?”
“Well. We both – Cas and I – got the feeling there was another presence out there. Maybe we were just spooked. But, anyway, that gave Cas and Sam the idea to do this spell to talk to Death.”
“What did the man say?”
“He says that there's something blocking his reapers hereabouts. That it started before the Malakhim brothers were born, and he doesn't know what's doing it.”
“Huh,” said Bobby.
“But here's another thing: he claims that there's use for spirits. That if you know how to use them, you can get power from them?”
“That's interesting. Death said that?”
Dean nodded.
“Well, I haven't a clue, but that ain't my specialty. I'll have to do some research. There's some books on demon powers over there if you wanna grab me one.”
Dean reached over, knocking over a shoebox.
“Hey, what's this?” asked Dean.
“Oh, just a box of old photos. You might like it. Some are of your dad and me.”
Dean grinned and pulled out a bundle of photos that had been rubber banded together and took a look in the stack. Bobby looked young as hell. There were some other guys and women, probably hunters, that he didn't know.
And then he saw a photo and stopped dead.
“Bobby. Who is that?”
“Hey, that's John! That's your dad. Looking good, huh?”
“Bobby. That's Michael Malakhim. Cas' brother.”
“What?”
“They could be twins.” Which was especially weird, Dean thought, as none of the brothers looked like brothers.
“Well. Don't that beat all. Hell of a coincidence.”
“You sure it's a coincidence?” asked Dean, suddenly very unsettled.
When Dean pulled up to the Haunted Mansion that night, both he and Cas suddenly went dead silent.
There was a Prius parked in the driveway.
“Cas?” asked Dean. The angel was already scrambling out the door.
“I need to get inside,” said Cas. “Something is not right.”
“Cas!” shouted Dean. Castiel turned around. “Dude. Should I wait for you?”
Castiel cast a glance inside. He looked undecided, but then shook his head. He came back to the car. “I will meet you for lunch tomorrow my friend. All right?”
There was an undertone of pleading in his tone. “Yeah. I'll be there,” said Dean.
Castiel gulped, and then, squaring his shoulders, entered his house.
Gabriel was sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, looking like a condemned prisoner. Michael and Lucifer both stood over him, glowering. Balthazar and Raphael were there as well, Balthazar looking miserable, and Raphael staring furiously at the floor, clenching and unclenching his fists.
“You can't do this,” Gabriel pleaded.
“Our decision is final,” said Michael.
“Don't worry, little dude,” purred Lucifer. “They'll grow back.”
“What is going on?” asked Castiel, stepping boldly into the center of the room.
“Cassie,” said Balthazar, who put out a cautioning hand. Castiel ignored him.
“This is none of your concern, Castiel,” said Michael, dark eyes flashing.
“Your brother neglected another history report,” said Lucifer. “So we're just going to give him a small lesson.”
“They're gonna clip me, Cassie!” said Gabriel.
“Gabriel was unable to complete his report on time because he was assisting me … on an errand,” said Castiel. “The fault is mine.”
“Castiel,” said Michael. “This is none. Of your. Concern.”
“It will just be a very quick snip,” said Lucifer, who had his sword out. “He won't feel it at all.”
“You will not touch him,” said Castiel, who went to stand between Lucifer and Gabriel.
“Castiel, don't make things unpleasant,” purred Lucifer.
Castiel took out his sword.
“Remember, I can't clip your wings. I might have to clip your neck,” said Lucifer.
“Lucifer!” yelled Raphael. “No!”
“Enough!” barked Michael. He swing out a hand, and suddenly, Castiel went tumbling away, slamming hard into a wall. Balthazar and Raphael ran over to him. Gabriel stood, but Michael, with another gesture, slammed him back down. “Gabriel. Take out your wings. Now!”
“No!” moaned Castiel, who was lying, bleeding, in Balthazar's arms.
“Out!” Michael commanded. And the three – Cas, Balthazar, and Raphael – were suddenly standing on the other side of the door, which slammed decisively shut.
Raphael stood outside the door, breathing hard. Castiel struggled to his feet, Balthazar steadying him.
From inside the room, Gabriel screamed.
“Brother,” said Balthazar softly, holding Castiel. “We should … we should get Cassie away from here.”
Gabriel howled again.
“I will stay here,” said Raphael. “I will witness my brother's cries. Every last one. Every last one.”
Balthazar nodded. “Cassie, you come with me. I need to fix you up.”
Castiel nodded sadly and accompanied Balthazar out of the room. Balthazar sat him down in a bathroom and checked for bruises.
“Are you feeling well? Do you think anything was broken? We can keep you home from school tomorrow if you are in pain,” said Balthazar as he grabbed the iodine from the medicine cabinet.
“I do not wish to stay home from school tomorrow,” said Castiel.
“Can't say as I blame you,” sighed Balthazar, dabbing at a rivulet of blood dripping down his brother's nose. “You will be OK? Walking?”
“I did not tell you,” said Castiel. He looked up, his eyes shining with pride. “I can drive a car!”
Dean had been in such a state of worry in the morning he had completely forgotten to pack a lunch. His state of mind was not improved when he didn't see Gabriel in his history class. He hurried over to their favorite bench at lunchtime, and was surprised to see Balthazar sitting with Castiel, one arm draped protectively over his little brother, the other trailing a forbidden cigarette.
“What's going on?” asked Dean. “Oh, god, Cas, what happened?” he added, sinking down to a squat in front of his friend. He took Castiel's face in his hands. “That's some shiner!” he said, regarding the black eye.
“Gabiel got himself clipped last night, and our little Cassie thought to intervene,” explained Balthazar.
“Lucifer did this?” asked Dean.
“Michael and Lucifer,” said Balthazar, exhaling smoke.
Dean seethed. He wanted to drop everything and storm out to the house and kick the living shit out of both Michael and Lucifer. He wanted to get one of Bobby's shotguns....
“Dean,” Castiel said quietly.
“Yeah?”
Castiel was shaking his head. “My arrogance did this. Michael and Lucifer are far more powerful than I.”
“No. You did not do this to yourself. Your brothers did this, and when I get my hands on them-”
“Both are gone. For now,” said Balthazar. “Back to college. But it might be good for Castiel if he stayed out of the house tonight. It's a little miserable there. Gabriel has refused to come out of his room.”
“Cas. You wanna stay over tonight? Maybe you and Sammy could stay up too late finishing that stupid game?”
“Yes, I would like that,” said Castiel.
“What about you, Balthy?” asked Dean. “It's not cool like your house, but you could hang out.”
“Thank you, but no,” smiled Balthazar. “Some other time, though. I have rehearsals. That is the splendid thing about being a theater major: there are always rehearsals.”
“So, you want me to pick you up after school?” Dean asked Cas.
“I drove!” said Castiel.
“What?” asked Dean, who smiled despite himself.
“We were feeling like shit last night,” explained Balthazar, “and Cassie explained that your friend, a Mr. Singer, had offered him driving lessons?”
Dean laughed. “Yeah, he's been driving at Bobby's.”
“Well, we popped over, and Mr. Singer, despite his surprise at the late hour, was kind enough to let my brother borrow a vehicle.”
“It's a manual transmission! Because automatics suck!” said Castiel.
“You're driving stick?” asked Dean.
“And he also supplied a drivers license, for someone named Sidney Barrett,” said Balthazar.
“Cas, next time you see you're brother's Prius is parked there?”
“Yes?”
“Make sure to scrape the door,” said Dean, miming throwing a car door open.
Balthazar threw his head back and laughed.
Castiel almost smiled.
They had gone through two pizzas, an order of breadsticks, a couple liters of coke, and and three different video games. Dean finally had to half carry Sammy to bed, as he seemed reluctant to give up his controller.
Dean came back to the living room and sat down on the couch, opposite Castiel, who sat, contentedly, with his feet up.
“So, Gabe got his wings clipped?” asked Dean.
“It was terrible,” said Castiel, who shuddered. “I don't always get along with Gabriel, but believe he has been done a great injustice.”
“Cas,” said Dean. “Look, I don't want to be rude or insult you....”
“What is it, Dean?” asked Castiel, blue eyes inquisitive.
“So, you guys really have wings?”
“Yes, of course,” said Cas, with the almost-smile. “We are angels.”
“Well,” said Dean. “I guess it was a stupid question.” And then he asked, because he had to. “Could.... Could I see? Some time.”
To his surprise, Cas simply shrugged, casual as if Dean had asked to see his sweater or something mundane like that. “We need to go somewhere there is room,” he said, looking around.
Oh, wings were big, Dean decided, still not entirely certain what he was going to see. He followed Castiel from the cramped living room, and into the master bedroom, where Cas was going to crash. It was technically John Winchester's room, but as he had yet to spend more than a single night there, there was nothing but a bed occupying the room. There were a few boxes piled in the closet.
Cas looked around, and seemed to decide it was big enough. He didn't bother to turn on the light, as moonlight shown in the room.
Cas unbuttoned his flannel shirt and took it off, and then pulled his undershirt off over his head and tossed it on the bed. And then … well, he sort of shrugged. Dean wasn't ever quite certain. Because it was no longer Cas standing before him. This was some kind of amazing winged creature.
The wings flicked a bit, as if Cas were shaking them out, like you would a bedspread you'd tucked up in the closet for a while. But then he was hovering close, his face a mask of concern. “Dean. It's all right. Please don't be scared.”
Why is he telling me this? thought Dean, who realized it was because he was down on his knees. There were tears in his eyes.
Cas had his hands out. “Don't be afraid. It's only me. You're all right,” he repeated. Dean put out his hands and let Cas pull him up, wobbly kneed and weeping and a mess. Dean wasn't sure what had happened to him. Cas was just so … perfect. Everything was just so perfect. He had Castiel's face in his hands now, touching him gently with his fingers, afraid any whisper would damage this moment. Dean ran his fingers very gently over Cas' bruised eye, willing away the hurt his friend felt.
Cas was speaking to him, very softly now. It wasn't English, so it must be Enochian. But Dean knew what he was saying, that Dean was safe, that Dean was loved. He knew as he leaned over to kiss Cas that it would be soft and thrilling, and now his hands were moving to catch Cas' bare waist and the smooth skin there. And then he knew from the soft whisper that the graceful dark wings were enfolding him, enfolding them both, and it was all sweet and blessed, and he didn't care if Raphael was right or wrong, because God was here, in this silent moment.
