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tikificTitle: Just Like a Woman (Blood on the Tracks, Chapter 5 of 7)
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Cas; Sam, Crowley, Bobby, Gabriel
Warnings: Cursing, some violence, Dean being dickish, appetizing descriptions of Greek food.
Word Count: 40K-ish
Summary: How Dean and Cas made a mistake; getting an appraisal; some domestic squabbling regarding joint property; and on crazy archangel is chasing another.
Notes: This is semi-post-Season 7 on the timeline, with the caveat that I’ve arbitrarily resurrected some characters just for the hell of it. Also: each chapter begins with a brief flashback that takes place prior to the main narrative. I have labeled these flashbacks, but you gotta pay attention, OK? Also, there's gonna be a Coda following Chapter 7.
A few weeks ago….
What Castiel remembered most afterwards was the smell of fresh spring rain.
They had walked back to the motel from the bar, Dean's arm draped over Cas' shoulder. Sam had been off somewhere with the car. Castiel recalled later he had been concerned about his friend's consumption of alcoholic beverages, as the rate appeared to be excessive. But he was also pleased to see Dean in what appeared a happy, relaxed mood. As they neared the motel, a spring rainstorm erupted. "Dammit, you're the only one dressed for this, and you don't need it!" Dean had laughed. They had increased their pace, Cas still half carrying a stumbling Dean Winchester along. Cas had considered for a moment simply transporting his friend back to his bed, but they were close by now and, truth be told, it was not unpleasant. It was a warm night, and to have Dean close like this....
When they had both gotten upstairs, Dean laughingly handed over the motel room key. It was a real key, not an electronic card, and it had a silly themed key ring. It looked like a little compass, Cas thought as Dean handed it over to him, Dean not being in the mindset to go to the bother of slotting a key into a lock. Dean was smiling at him, lighthearted, hair plastered down, a single rivulet of rainwater dripping down his forehead and over one eye, making him wink like a madman, too drunk to remember to reach up and wipe it off.
Cas managed the key and opened the door, and, because it was bothering Dean, brushed a thumb across Dean's forehead to wipe away the rain. Dean pitched forward towards the bed, and Cas ended up being dragged partway with him, as he realized the hunter had a grabbed a fistful of his tie somewhere along the way. Dean sat down hard on the edge of the bed, Cas standing awkwardly over him. Castiel slipped the key with its odd key ring into his coat pocket and put a hand down on the bed on either side of Dean's legs, straining to balance and not to fall into him as Dean kept his hold on the tie. His face was now inches from Dean's, as he called to mind Dean's many lectures to him regarding appropriate levels of personal space. Castiel understood now there was some sort of connection with human mating rituals. It was difficult to parse, however, as Dean never evinced any sign of displeasure, outward or inward, and tonight was clearly the initiator of the physical closeness. When Cas looked now, as he had a very good view, there seemed to him a kind of sobriety in Dean's eyes, a clarity of purpose: something he very rarely sensed in the self-doubting hunter.
He wasn't quite certain later what it was – whim or madness – that drove him to close the small gap that remained between them. What he wanted to do just then was touch Dean's face one more time: to run a hand and smooth his forehead, tell him everything would be all right. Lies, but humans seemed to like their lies. But he could not raise a hand from the bed without losing his balance and tumbling into Dean, so instead he did the ridiculous, mad thing, allowed his human eyes to flicker closed and, as he had seen in countless human films, ranging from those meant for children to pornography, let his vessel's face drift closer, and let his human lips gently brush those of Dean Winchester. A strange, crazy, fluttery feeling which he could only savor for a tiny sliver of time, as quite suddenly Dean was yanking him down, and Cas did end up toppling into Dean, the both of them going over, and Cas’ eyes flickered open with the sensation of everything in his world suddenly an irrevocably changing for good and all, a sensation as profound as that day in hell, when he had grabbed onto Dean's immortal soul and wrested him back up from perdition.
And Deans mouth was still on his mouth, and now he could not just smell but taste the alcohol on Dean, and it seemed to all wash into him, as he absorbed his friend's reckless drunken mood, and then all his strength and resolve seemed to flutter away on butterfly wings, and he found himself easily rolled over and pinned underneath Dean. He finally discovered his hands, but they betrayed him, working to pull Dean even closer, if that were possible, and he became nothing more than a lost, lustful creature, straining to find his way.
Angels do not sleep, so when they were finished, and Dean had drifted off to the half sleep, half unconscious state that followed, Cas had gathered his clothes and then, with a light kiss to Dean’s forehead, left the room in a soft beating of angel wings.
The next time he saw Dean, which was actually only a few hours later the same day, his heart was oddly heavy with a sense of expectation. But Sam was there as well, and Cas did not think it appropriate to make mention.
But then, at last at last, they were alone, sitting side by side in driver and passenger seats of the Impala, taking in the moonlight.
“Last night,” said Dean.
“Yes,” said Castiel.
A pause. Dean's face, impossibly stunning in the moonlight.
“Cas. I think it was a mistake….”
“Can you read the map? The GPS is acting funny,” said Dean.
“There is no need to read the map, Dean.”
“Why not?” asked Dean, looking over to the passenger seat in concern.
“This is the location we seek,” said Castiel. “Up there, ahead.”
Dean peered up ahead, where he spotted the Glaucus plaque set in the wall. “Hey, you just got yourself the job of navigator!” he told Cas, who didn’t reply. Cas had been oddly quiet during the drive, which Dean had decided to attribute to the fact that the angel wasn’t feeling well. He saw him from time to time put a hand up to his chest. He had asked if Cas needed something, but Cas had simply shaken his head and looked out the window.
Dean looked around for a parking spot, thinking this was a weird place for someone like Crowley to go for an appraisal. He had figured the demon would have some fancy dude in Paris or something like that. They got out and walked over to the doorway, where Dean looked around for a buzzer or something like that.
“You here for Glaucus?” asked a female voice. Dean turned to see a curly-haired woman staring him down. She was shorter than him, but she still kinda appeared to be looking down. Not bad looking, a little older, but that was cool. As far as Dean was concerned, that is.
“Yeah,” said Dean. “I’m Dean, this is Cas. You with Glaucus?”
“Minnie. I am the sole proprietor. I don’t remember an appointment?” She seemed to really be giving Cas the once-over. The angel, for his part, stared back.
“We don’t have an appointment,” Dean admitted, making the decision not to fake his way through this one. Well, mostly not fake his way. “We’re here for a friend. Guy named Crowley?”
“I know a guy named Crowley. But he doesn’t have any friends,” said Minnie.
“Yeah, must be the same guy,” laughed Dean. “Look, I swear, it’s just a couple questions. I figure you’re busy?”
Minnie gave Cas another long searching look, but then gave a slight shrug and put a key to the heavy wooden door. She led Dean and Cas up to a cluttered second floor office. She pushed books and notebooks and a plush Bullwinkle moose plus various other oddments out of a couple of chairs and bade them sit.
“You are a goddess,” said Cas as Minnie settled herself behind a heavy oaken desk.
“Well, thank you, hon. Flattery will get you everywhere,” she said. The words were light, but Dean noticed her gaze was quite serious.
“No,” insisted Castiel. “You are a goddess.”
Minnie stared at him hard. “Yeah. Guilty. And unless I’m off my rocker, you’re an angel.”
“Yes,” said Castiel. “That is correct.”
“What,” Dean asked Minnie. “Wait. Really?”
“Yeah, really,” said Minnie.
“Wow,” said Dean. He’d met goddesses before, but it was still a rare thing. And kind of cool.
“OK,” said Minnie, sitting back and rearranging her long skirt. “So maybe you guys will answer my question first: how the fuck did Crowley get mixed up with an angel?”
“Long story,” said Dean. “And we’re really not sure about all of it yet. Crowley’s going through a divorce, I understand.”
“Yeah. I’ve done consultation work for both parties,” said Minnie. “A lot of it is public record. I mean, public demon record, but same thing. Their courts are just as fucked up as yours,” she added, smiling at Dean.
“Well, the other thing is some crazy angel dude is grabbing other angels and carving out their grace,” Dean told her.
“Oh!” said Minnie. “Honey, is that what happened to you?” she asked, turning to Castiel, her eyes now full of concern.
“Yes, he attempted the procedure on me,” Castiel told her.
“Ah, yeah, that’s why your aura looked off. OK,” said Minnie. “I might have something for that,” she noted, pointing a finger at him. “Anyway, go on, Dean.”
“We’re not sure what the connection is, exactly, but when we ran into Raguel – that’s the crazy ass angel – he was wearing Crowley’s lab coat.”
“Oh shit!” said Minnie, hands over her mouth. “Shit! Not the 1938 ‘Bride of the Demon!’”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“Fuck! He outbid Peter Jackson for that piece!” Minnie looked furious. She glanced again at Castiel, who made the gesture of holding his chest and shifted uncomfortably. “Hey, look, maybe we could chat in my place, the other side of the door?” she told Dean. “I got something that could help your friend, and it's more comfortable back there.”
“You have stuff to heal up an angel?” asked Dean, who thought back to his own joke about angel paramedics.
“Oh, hell yeah. Medicine was my schtick. One of them. Back in the day.”
“This treatment...” said Castiel, who remained seated as Dean and Minnie rose.
“Yeah?” asked Minnie.
Castiel was silent for a moment. He finally looked up at Minnie, pleading in his eyes. “I have experienced some … painful procedures lately.”
“Awww,” said Minnie. “I'm sorry, doll.”
“I can bear pain,” said Castiel quickly. “I do not want to risk … crying out again. Involuntarily. As that could alert Raguel to my present location.”
Minnie was on the other side of her desk, leaning over the angel. “Awww, look at those puppy dog eyes,” she soothed.
“Uh, what?” said Dean, a mortified look on his face.
“No, you'll be fine, sweetie,” said Minnie, taking Cas' face in her hand. “Why don't I get you boys something to eat? That will make you feel all better.”
“Do you have a hamburger?” asked Cas, who was actually batting his eyes at her.
“Or a nice souvlaki? Come on, you look starved,” she said, grabbing Cas by the arm and half dragging him into the next room. Oh, boy, is he ever milking this, Dean thought irritably. On the other hand, it might mean lunch. He shrugged and followed along.
Yakety Sax.
That’s what was needed, Gabriel thought. An appropriate soundtrack.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t risk it. Rag-balls was dumb, but not that dumb.
And something, Gabriel noted, was making him even stupider. Stupid even for a Seraph. They weren’t as dumb as the Cherubim, but Seraphim weren’t noted for their brilliance.
Since he’d left his little brother and the Winchester kid, Gabe had had an amusing ride. His first move of course had been to send out clones of himself. OIdest trick in the book, though it seemed to take old Rag-butt a long time to realize. And lo, there were many funny comedy chases, which begat many jolly pratfalls. And it was good.
And now here he was atop the battlements of an old, abandoned castle. Somewhere in France or Spain or something, he had never actually memorized all the current borders for stuff. Boring! He was crouched next to a particularly ugly gargoyle, watching Raguel run himself ragged smiting a couple of Gabriel twins he’d conjured. Damn, this guy was smite crazy.
Gabe was pretty sure by this time Castiel and Dean Winchester were far from danger, but now his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He hadn’t seen his big brother Raguel in a while. Maybe the dude was just a few fries short of a Happy Meal these days? Their Father’s little stunt of running out for a pack of Heavenly cigarettes a few decades back and just never returning had made everyone in the family a little punchy.
Gabriel was pulled from his thoughts by a familiar whiff of sulfur. And … something else, some other smell. He looked down. There were two figures down there now, Raguel and…. HELLOOOOOOO, NURSE! Gabriel imagined himself suddenly morphed into a cartoon wolf, his eyes bulging out, his tongue trailing down to the floor. It was one of the sexiest broads Gabe had ever seen, and he had seen a lot of cute chicks. But what the hell was this babe doing around crusty old Raggy?
Gabriel crouched and strained his angelic ears. He wanted to go to his true form, but didn’t want to attract attention. Raguel, dumb and batshit as he was, still packed a punch. He’d seen what Raguel had done to Cas, and he knew is little brother was one tough little bastard.
There was some conversation, something about a supply of grace. And did they mention … Crowley?
And then they both popped out of the picture.
Wait, Raguel had given up on chasing Gabriel? Well, that sucked. BORING!
Gabriel sat for a moment. Getting involved wasn’t his style, that was for sure. On the other hand, maybe Cas could use the information that Raggy was working with a cute chick. And, you know, Cas tended to hang out with those hunky Winchester boys these days. Maybe Sam was in the shower right now, and, you know, needed someone to soap his back! Hey, it was possible….
Minnie’s apartment seemed somehow larger on this inside than was possible given what Dean had seen of the exterior of the building. And it was utterly crammed full of odds and ends and knick knacks and tchotchkes. After ventures down a number of hallways, they ended up in the kitchen, which was just as cluttered as the office, and Minnie soon had a number of ingredients steaming and frying and boiling on just about every pot and pan in the place. Dean had lost track of what was supposedly the remedy for Cas and what was lunch, but had to admit it all smelled pretty damned good. Over in the corner, there was what he had at first taken as a stuffed owl resting on a perch, but some time through the conversation, it apparently woke up, and stared over at them, its eyes amber and intelligent.
Minnie had given Dean the assignment of removing Cas' jacket and shirts, as evidently she now believed the angel was too hapless to achieve such a thing for himself. Dean made himself a mental note to remember the “puppy dog eyes” ploy. Where the hell had Cas learned such a thing? Sam? Yeah, maybe Sammy was to blame. A bad influence. But then Dean’s thoughts turned to worry about Sam, and he made himself shut off that line of thought.
Minnie had just wrapped up some sort of mystery poultice in a hot towel, and ordered Cas, who was seated at the table, to lean forward. It had a very familiar odor to it, like candy. “Now,” she told Dean, “you hold it right here,” she said, pushing the towel more or less in the center of Cas' back. She took Dean's hand and carefully placed it where hers had been. “There you go,” she said, as Dean felt Castiel's muscles quite suddenly start to relax. Cas propped his elbows on the kitchen table and glanced up at Dean: it was a weird, dopey, mildly drunken expression Dean didn't even think he'd seen on the angel's face before.
“He's gonna be a little goofy for a while,” Minnie whispered to Dean. “You know, the aniseed oil.”
“The what?” asked Dean.
“The anise,” said Minnie. “Wait, you have an angel boyfriend, and you don't know about anise? I swear,” she said, returning to the stove, where she gave one of the frying pans a jiggle. “I should write a book.”
“He's not my...” started Dean, who stopped when Minnie shot a glance at him. “OK, OK.” Dean watched Cas sprawled contentedly over the kitchen table, purring like a contented cat. He decided to try a different tack. “So, I don't wanna be rude, but you're a goddess? Like a real goddess?”
“Yeah,” said Minnie. “That was my gig. Goddess of wisdom! But, who needs a wisdom god any more, am I right? You kids these days know it all.”
“Oh! So you're-”
“They called me Minerva, among other names. I got a lot of names. But that was back in the day.” She dipped a large wooden spoon into a bowl and tasted. “Mmm! I make my own tzatziki. Wanna try?”
Dean leaned over and took a taste from the same spoon. It was awesome. He wondered if there was room on the table for him to collapse like Cas, as he had started to get the impression they weren't going to leave this place without bellies full of Greek food. Delicious fucking Greek food. He wished Sammy were here, and then regretted once again thinking of his brother.
“So you wanted to know about Crowley and Jahi, right?” asked Minnie, grabbing a crystal decanter and putting it in the center of the table along with a few mismatched glasses.
“Yeah,” said Dean, who, one handed, poured himself a glass of what turned out to be a sweet wine. Honey, maybe? He cast a glance at Cas, who was still pretty blissed out.
“I worked for both of 'em,” said Minnie. “I don't like to play favorites, and I'm pretty much the go to person now for demon divorces.”
“You get a lot of demon divorces?” asked Dean, sipping his wine and checking to make sure the towel on Cas’ back was still positioned right.
“Yeah, like you'd expect. Maybe not as many as you humans. But those guys inevitably have a ton of crap to divide up.”
“Really?” asked Dean, eyeing the clutter in the kitchen.
“OK, yeah, I should talk. Anyway, Crowley's a bastard. I mean, am I right?”
“You're right.”
“He's an asshole, but he plays fair. I mean, at least he's got rules. But it's pretty clear Jahi is fucking around, playing games. Concealing assets, basically. So some time back I tell her, go fuck yourself, bitch, we're done. Well, that doesn't sit well with Little Miss Cursed Tits. She's a demon of lasciviousness, by the way. Those bitches always expect to get their way. I'm like, yeah yeah, take that shit to Pan, I'm the wisdom god, lady. So now I'm working only for Crowley, she starts sending her minions – her minions! - after me, like that's gonna intimidate me.”
“I take it that didn’t intimidate you,” said Dean.
“You take it right. Anyway, what I think set her off was the alimony demand.”
“Alimony?” asked Dean. “Crowley was supposed to pay her?”
Minnie barked out a laugh. “Ha! He didn’t tell you. Typical man. Naw, Crowley asked her for alimony.”
“No shit?”
“No shit. I mean, crossroads, that’s a good gig mind you, but sex sells, and like I said, she’s a sex demon. And word is Crowley took a bath when he was trying to run hell. Oh, look, the lamb's nearly done. You can take off the towel.”
Dean removed the towel from Cas’s back. The angel immediate straightened up and blinked.
“How does that feel, baby?” asked Minnie, who was now placing platters on the table.
“I feel … much improved. I thank you!” said Castiel, who, Dean had to admit, looked a lot less like he was going to barf.
“Aw, that’s good sweetie,” said Minnie, who leaned over and patted Cas’ cheek, to the angel’s apparent approval.
“Uh, Minnie, you know, this guy is a million years old?” said Dean, who was getting a bit annoyed at the spectacle.
“Hundreds of millions, actually,” said Minnie, who pulled out a chair and sat down. “But those poor angels, growing up without a mother like that!”
“I grew up without a mother,” said Dean.
“Tsk, you poor dear!” tutted Minnie. “Here, have some of my gyros! I make my own tzatziki!” Dean grabbed an overstuffed pita bread. He noticed Cas, who could usually give food a pass, was already digging in.
“This is really very good,” said Cas through a mouthful of food.
“You need to taste the shawarma as well,” said Minnie, holding up another platter. Cas greedily grabbed it, even though he was only halfway through his first sandwich.
The owl, which Dean had almost forgotten about, had now fluttered over, and perched on the back of Minnie’s chair. She picked bits of meat from her sandwich and handed it up to him.
“You feeling OK, buddy?” Dean asked Cas as he watched his friend now attempt to eat two-handed.
“I don’t think I have felt so good in many eons,” munched Castiel.
“Well, you might feel a sting when the anise wears off,” said Minnie.
“I’m sorry?” asked Castiel, tilting his head.
“I put a little bit in the poultice, since you said you were having trouble with pain,” said Minnie, holding up the towel Dean had been pressing on Cas.
Castiel suddenly set down both of his sandwiches, all of his attention focused on the towel. He leaned over and, seeming careful not to actually touch the towel, took a whiff.
“Just a pinch,” said Minnie. “Didn’t want you to pass out.”
“That smell,” said Cas.
“Pure aniseed oil. I use only the best,” said Minnie, setting the towel aside.
“We are vulnerable to it,” said Cas.
“That’s one way of putting it, I suppose,” laughed Minnie.
“What’s up, Cas?” asked Dean. Castiel looked as if he were concentrating very hard.
“When I was with Raguel, his breath smelled of something I did not recognize at first, Dean. This smell,” he said, pointing to the towel.
“Wait, someone fed him so much you could smell it on his breath? And he was still walking around?” asked Minnie.
“You think someone … doped him up? Or something like that?” asked Dean.
“I fear that may be the case,” said Castiel, who picked up his shawarma again and started to chew thoughtfully.
“Could someone do that?” Dean asked Minnie.
“Well, I’m not sure. Usually you give them enough to affect them, they’re like your friend here,” said Minnie, “on the floor. But I’m not so familiar with archangels. Tend to give the bastards a wide berth. Don’t get me started on that Lucifer person. Bad news.”
“So, we have a crazy bitch demon, and a doped up psycho archangel. Great,” said Dean.
“It actually seems a typical venture for us,” said Castiel through a mouthful of grilled lamb.
“Can I ask what you boys do?” asked Minnie, giving Dean a critical eye.
“Honestly? My brother and I, we’re hunters. You know, demons, restless spirits, that kinda thing.” He didn't volunteer that they had hunted down goddesses before.
“Oh!” said Minnie, who, to Dean's surprise, smiled happily. “Some of Artie’s boys! Very good.”
“Artie?” asked Dean.
“The very first hunter. Old buddy of mine. I’ll introduce you some time.”
“Wow,” said Dean, who was picturing in his head something like a Greek Chuck Norris. Only maybe even more awesome. He leaned back and slung an arm around the chair next to him, where he had draped the jean jacket he had loaned Cas, as the angel had lost his overcoat to Raguel. “Minnie,” Dean said, suddenly digging into the pocket, “you appraise magical stuff?” He grabbed something and tossed it over to her.
Minnie looked at the motel key. “Glasses, Hegel?” she said. The owl flapped off, and returned with a pair of reading glasses in its beak. She donned the glasses and turned the object over.
“What do you think of that?” asked Dean, who noticed Cas had stopped eating again.
“You angels kill me,” said Minnie. “Did you do this, hon?” she asked Castiel.
“I am … Castiel,” said Cas.
“Castiel,” she said, considering the name. “You put away some of your grace in this, didn’t you, Castiel?”
“I did?” asked Cas.
“Did he?” asked Dean.
Minnie tossed the key to Castiel, who grabbed it and looked with astonishment. “Oh,” he said. “That is why Raguel could not remove my grace.”
“So, it’s magic?” asked Dean.
“Yeah. It’s magic,” said Minnie.
“Look, Minnie…” started Dean. He glanced over to Cas, who nodded at him. “Something I didn’t tell you. Raguel…. He’s got Crowley now. And … my brother.”
Minnie removed her eyeglasses and stared at Dean.
“We thought they weren’t in a lot of danger. He wants angel grace. But if someone’s got him doped up, like you said…” He looked at Castiel again. The sense of worry he had been tamping down for the past days had suddenly bubbled up.
Minnie nodded. “I have a lot of contacts in the demon world. I’ll see if I can figure out what the fuck Jahi’s been up to. I sense her claws all over this.”
Crowley heard the distinctive sound of her footsteps even before he smelled her this time.
“Where ees eet?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said the demon, pushing himself painfully up to a sitting position.
“You know fuckeeng well what I am talkeeng about.”
“Had I ever told you, my dearest: some women, as you know, can get terribly attractive when they are angry? This has never been the case for you.”
Jahi glowered. She stood glaring over Crowley. “I weell burn everyzhing of yours. Everyzhing!”
“You won’t even be able to find it, sweetheart.”
Jahi turned to where Sam was stirring in the cell nearby. “I weell cut hees heart out.”
“I would actually encourage you to do that,” chuckled Crowley as Sam blinked.
“You are bluffeeng!”
Crowley laughed, and then gripped his side and moaned. “If you touch one luxuriant hair on the lovely moose’s skull, you will only incur the wrath of his elder brother. Which will be most amusing to watch.”
Jahi fumed, and then disappeared.
“Uh, Crowley,” asked Sam.
“Yes?”
“Uh, who was that?”
“Oh. No one of consequence,” said Crowley, waving a hand dismissively.
“Uhhhhhh. She just kind of threatened to cut out my beating heart?” croaked Sam.
“Oh, foof. A bluff.”
“I’m kind of attached to my heart Crowley.” Something occurred to him as Sam stared through the bars. “Holy fuck, is that the ex?”
“Hardly holy, but yes, that is the ex,” acknowledged Crowley.
“She’s um, attractive?”
“Oh, she is ever so much more when she smiles,” Crowley noted. “Women do tend to forget a pleasant expression is their biggest asset! As well as a sense of humor. And really big tits.”
Jahi had appeared again. She was not wearing a very pleasant expression.
She held in her long-nailed hands the damaged lab coat.
“No,” whispered Crowley.
Jahi snapped her fingers, and a flame appeared at her fingertips.
Crowley had used the cell bars to struggle to his feet. “Now, my dear. Think about this. This is not about you and me! This coat is a part of the cultural heritage.”
“Where. Zhe fuck. Ees eet?” hissed Jahi.
“Jahi!”
“Crowley!”
“I don’t know!” pleaded Crowley. “I really, honestly do not know!”
And then the edge of the coat erupted in flames.
“NOOOO!” screamed Crowley.
Jahi paused for effect, and then tossed the coat to the floor, stamping out the flames with her high heeled shoe.
“Remember!” she spat.
And then she was gone, the crumpled, burnt coat lying before the cell.
“Noooo!” wailed Crowley. “Don’t leave the coat on the floor like that! It will get dirty!”
The drive back to Bobby’s, like the drive out, was conducted mostly in silence. Dean glanced over at Cas, who was looking especially disheveled. He had shrugged back into his clothes, but hadn’t bothered to button the flannel shirt Dean had bought him, and it just hung down, looking rumpled, as all of Cas' clothing had a tendency to do. He held the motel room key in his hand, and had been turning it over and over, as if thinking something over.
Dean turned down the car stereo. “Puppy dog eyes, huh?” he asked, more to break the silence than anything else. “You got a way with women, I guess. Or maybe with goddesses.”
Cas looked up sharply at Dean. “Are you experiencing feelings of jealousy, Dean?”
“What? No! I mean, maybe. I mean…. Look, Cas! You’re a million years old! It’s not like you’re an innocent little kid and I’m the bad guy!”
Cas tilted his head. “I never claimed innocence, Dean. I have, on the contrary, done a great number of terrible things during my existence. I have always admitted this.”
It was Dean’s turn to frown. He glared and thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “That’s not what I meant,” he muttered.
“Are you possibly concerned regarding your brother, Dean?” Cas asked, more softly this time.
“He’ll be OK,” said Dean. “He’s OK. He’s been in worse scrapes than this.”
Castiel was silent for a moment. He pocketed the key. “I have decided what I must do,” he said at last.
“Wait. What do you mean?” asked Dean.
“I know now Raguel cannot kill me. You realize this as well, correct?”
“Cas,” said Dean. “What are you doing?”
“What I must,” said Castiel.
Dean heard the wingbeats, and the car veered over to the shoulder, screeching to a halt. Dean looked to the passenger seat, but of course, there was no one.
“Cas? God damn it,” muttered Dean, pounding a fist to the steering wheel. “Did you zap out again? You could have zapped me with you!” he yelled.
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Cas; Sam, Crowley, Bobby, Gabriel
Warnings: Cursing, some violence, Dean being dickish, appetizing descriptions of Greek food.
Word Count: 40K-ish
Summary: How Dean and Cas made a mistake; getting an appraisal; some domestic squabbling regarding joint property; and on crazy archangel is chasing another.
Notes: This is semi-post-Season 7 on the timeline, with the caveat that I’ve arbitrarily resurrected some characters just for the hell of it. Also: each chapter begins with a brief flashback that takes place prior to the main narrative. I have labeled these flashbacks, but you gotta pay attention, OK? Also, there's gonna be a Coda following Chapter 7.
A few weeks ago….
What Castiel remembered most afterwards was the smell of fresh spring rain.
They had walked back to the motel from the bar, Dean's arm draped over Cas' shoulder. Sam had been off somewhere with the car. Castiel recalled later he had been concerned about his friend's consumption of alcoholic beverages, as the rate appeared to be excessive. But he was also pleased to see Dean in what appeared a happy, relaxed mood. As they neared the motel, a spring rainstorm erupted. "Dammit, you're the only one dressed for this, and you don't need it!" Dean had laughed. They had increased their pace, Cas still half carrying a stumbling Dean Winchester along. Cas had considered for a moment simply transporting his friend back to his bed, but they were close by now and, truth be told, it was not unpleasant. It was a warm night, and to have Dean close like this....
When they had both gotten upstairs, Dean laughingly handed over the motel room key. It was a real key, not an electronic card, and it had a silly themed key ring. It looked like a little compass, Cas thought as Dean handed it over to him, Dean not being in the mindset to go to the bother of slotting a key into a lock. Dean was smiling at him, lighthearted, hair plastered down, a single rivulet of rainwater dripping down his forehead and over one eye, making him wink like a madman, too drunk to remember to reach up and wipe it off.
Cas managed the key and opened the door, and, because it was bothering Dean, brushed a thumb across Dean's forehead to wipe away the rain. Dean pitched forward towards the bed, and Cas ended up being dragged partway with him, as he realized the hunter had a grabbed a fistful of his tie somewhere along the way. Dean sat down hard on the edge of the bed, Cas standing awkwardly over him. Castiel slipped the key with its odd key ring into his coat pocket and put a hand down on the bed on either side of Dean's legs, straining to balance and not to fall into him as Dean kept his hold on the tie. His face was now inches from Dean's, as he called to mind Dean's many lectures to him regarding appropriate levels of personal space. Castiel understood now there was some sort of connection with human mating rituals. It was difficult to parse, however, as Dean never evinced any sign of displeasure, outward or inward, and tonight was clearly the initiator of the physical closeness. When Cas looked now, as he had a very good view, there seemed to him a kind of sobriety in Dean's eyes, a clarity of purpose: something he very rarely sensed in the self-doubting hunter.
He wasn't quite certain later what it was – whim or madness – that drove him to close the small gap that remained between them. What he wanted to do just then was touch Dean's face one more time: to run a hand and smooth his forehead, tell him everything would be all right. Lies, but humans seemed to like their lies. But he could not raise a hand from the bed without losing his balance and tumbling into Dean, so instead he did the ridiculous, mad thing, allowed his human eyes to flicker closed and, as he had seen in countless human films, ranging from those meant for children to pornography, let his vessel's face drift closer, and let his human lips gently brush those of Dean Winchester. A strange, crazy, fluttery feeling which he could only savor for a tiny sliver of time, as quite suddenly Dean was yanking him down, and Cas did end up toppling into Dean, the both of them going over, and Cas’ eyes flickered open with the sensation of everything in his world suddenly an irrevocably changing for good and all, a sensation as profound as that day in hell, when he had grabbed onto Dean's immortal soul and wrested him back up from perdition.
And Deans mouth was still on his mouth, and now he could not just smell but taste the alcohol on Dean, and it seemed to all wash into him, as he absorbed his friend's reckless drunken mood, and then all his strength and resolve seemed to flutter away on butterfly wings, and he found himself easily rolled over and pinned underneath Dean. He finally discovered his hands, but they betrayed him, working to pull Dean even closer, if that were possible, and he became nothing more than a lost, lustful creature, straining to find his way.
Angels do not sleep, so when they were finished, and Dean had drifted off to the half sleep, half unconscious state that followed, Cas had gathered his clothes and then, with a light kiss to Dean’s forehead, left the room in a soft beating of angel wings.
The next time he saw Dean, which was actually only a few hours later the same day, his heart was oddly heavy with a sense of expectation. But Sam was there as well, and Cas did not think it appropriate to make mention.
But then, at last at last, they were alone, sitting side by side in driver and passenger seats of the Impala, taking in the moonlight.
“Last night,” said Dean.
“Yes,” said Castiel.
A pause. Dean's face, impossibly stunning in the moonlight.
“Cas. I think it was a mistake….”
“Can you read the map? The GPS is acting funny,” said Dean.
“There is no need to read the map, Dean.”
“Why not?” asked Dean, looking over to the passenger seat in concern.
“This is the location we seek,” said Castiel. “Up there, ahead.”
Dean peered up ahead, where he spotted the Glaucus plaque set in the wall. “Hey, you just got yourself the job of navigator!” he told Cas, who didn’t reply. Cas had been oddly quiet during the drive, which Dean had decided to attribute to the fact that the angel wasn’t feeling well. He saw him from time to time put a hand up to his chest. He had asked if Cas needed something, but Cas had simply shaken his head and looked out the window.
Dean looked around for a parking spot, thinking this was a weird place for someone like Crowley to go for an appraisal. He had figured the demon would have some fancy dude in Paris or something like that. They got out and walked over to the doorway, where Dean looked around for a buzzer or something like that.
“You here for Glaucus?” asked a female voice. Dean turned to see a curly-haired woman staring him down. She was shorter than him, but she still kinda appeared to be looking down. Not bad looking, a little older, but that was cool. As far as Dean was concerned, that is.
“Yeah,” said Dean. “I’m Dean, this is Cas. You with Glaucus?”
“Minnie. I am the sole proprietor. I don’t remember an appointment?” She seemed to really be giving Cas the once-over. The angel, for his part, stared back.
“We don’t have an appointment,” Dean admitted, making the decision not to fake his way through this one. Well, mostly not fake his way. “We’re here for a friend. Guy named Crowley?”
“I know a guy named Crowley. But he doesn’t have any friends,” said Minnie.
“Yeah, must be the same guy,” laughed Dean. “Look, I swear, it’s just a couple questions. I figure you’re busy?”
Minnie gave Cas another long searching look, but then gave a slight shrug and put a key to the heavy wooden door. She led Dean and Cas up to a cluttered second floor office. She pushed books and notebooks and a plush Bullwinkle moose plus various other oddments out of a couple of chairs and bade them sit.
“You are a goddess,” said Cas as Minnie settled herself behind a heavy oaken desk.
“Well, thank you, hon. Flattery will get you everywhere,” she said. The words were light, but Dean noticed her gaze was quite serious.
“No,” insisted Castiel. “You are a goddess.”
Minnie stared at him hard. “Yeah. Guilty. And unless I’m off my rocker, you’re an angel.”
“Yes,” said Castiel. “That is correct.”
“What,” Dean asked Minnie. “Wait. Really?”
“Yeah, really,” said Minnie.
“Wow,” said Dean. He’d met goddesses before, but it was still a rare thing. And kind of cool.
“OK,” said Minnie, sitting back and rearranging her long skirt. “So maybe you guys will answer my question first: how the fuck did Crowley get mixed up with an angel?”
“Long story,” said Dean. “And we’re really not sure about all of it yet. Crowley’s going through a divorce, I understand.”
“Yeah. I’ve done consultation work for both parties,” said Minnie. “A lot of it is public record. I mean, public demon record, but same thing. Their courts are just as fucked up as yours,” she added, smiling at Dean.
“Well, the other thing is some crazy angel dude is grabbing other angels and carving out their grace,” Dean told her.
“Oh!” said Minnie. “Honey, is that what happened to you?” she asked, turning to Castiel, her eyes now full of concern.
“Yes, he attempted the procedure on me,” Castiel told her.
“Ah, yeah, that’s why your aura looked off. OK,” said Minnie. “I might have something for that,” she noted, pointing a finger at him. “Anyway, go on, Dean.”
“We’re not sure what the connection is, exactly, but when we ran into Raguel – that’s the crazy ass angel – he was wearing Crowley’s lab coat.”
“Oh shit!” said Minnie, hands over her mouth. “Shit! Not the 1938 ‘Bride of the Demon!’”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“Fuck! He outbid Peter Jackson for that piece!” Minnie looked furious. She glanced again at Castiel, who made the gesture of holding his chest and shifted uncomfortably. “Hey, look, maybe we could chat in my place, the other side of the door?” she told Dean. “I got something that could help your friend, and it's more comfortable back there.”
“You have stuff to heal up an angel?” asked Dean, who thought back to his own joke about angel paramedics.
“Oh, hell yeah. Medicine was my schtick. One of them. Back in the day.”
“This treatment...” said Castiel, who remained seated as Dean and Minnie rose.
“Yeah?” asked Minnie.
Castiel was silent for a moment. He finally looked up at Minnie, pleading in his eyes. “I have experienced some … painful procedures lately.”
“Awww,” said Minnie. “I'm sorry, doll.”
“I can bear pain,” said Castiel quickly. “I do not want to risk … crying out again. Involuntarily. As that could alert Raguel to my present location.”
Minnie was on the other side of her desk, leaning over the angel. “Awww, look at those puppy dog eyes,” she soothed.
“Uh, what?” said Dean, a mortified look on his face.
“No, you'll be fine, sweetie,” said Minnie, taking Cas' face in her hand. “Why don't I get you boys something to eat? That will make you feel all better.”
“Do you have a hamburger?” asked Cas, who was actually batting his eyes at her.
“Or a nice souvlaki? Come on, you look starved,” she said, grabbing Cas by the arm and half dragging him into the next room. Oh, boy, is he ever milking this, Dean thought irritably. On the other hand, it might mean lunch. He shrugged and followed along.
Yakety Sax.
That’s what was needed, Gabriel thought. An appropriate soundtrack.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t risk it. Rag-balls was dumb, but not that dumb.
And something, Gabriel noted, was making him even stupider. Stupid even for a Seraph. They weren’t as dumb as the Cherubim, but Seraphim weren’t noted for their brilliance.
Since he’d left his little brother and the Winchester kid, Gabe had had an amusing ride. His first move of course had been to send out clones of himself. OIdest trick in the book, though it seemed to take old Rag-butt a long time to realize. And lo, there were many funny comedy chases, which begat many jolly pratfalls. And it was good.
And now here he was atop the battlements of an old, abandoned castle. Somewhere in France or Spain or something, he had never actually memorized all the current borders for stuff. Boring! He was crouched next to a particularly ugly gargoyle, watching Raguel run himself ragged smiting a couple of Gabriel twins he’d conjured. Damn, this guy was smite crazy.
Gabe was pretty sure by this time Castiel and Dean Winchester were far from danger, but now his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He hadn’t seen his big brother Raguel in a while. Maybe the dude was just a few fries short of a Happy Meal these days? Their Father’s little stunt of running out for a pack of Heavenly cigarettes a few decades back and just never returning had made everyone in the family a little punchy.
Gabriel was pulled from his thoughts by a familiar whiff of sulfur. And … something else, some other smell. He looked down. There were two figures down there now, Raguel and…. HELLOOOOOOO, NURSE! Gabriel imagined himself suddenly morphed into a cartoon wolf, his eyes bulging out, his tongue trailing down to the floor. It was one of the sexiest broads Gabe had ever seen, and he had seen a lot of cute chicks. But what the hell was this babe doing around crusty old Raggy?
Gabriel crouched and strained his angelic ears. He wanted to go to his true form, but didn’t want to attract attention. Raguel, dumb and batshit as he was, still packed a punch. He’d seen what Raguel had done to Cas, and he knew is little brother was one tough little bastard.
There was some conversation, something about a supply of grace. And did they mention … Crowley?
And then they both popped out of the picture.
Wait, Raguel had given up on chasing Gabriel? Well, that sucked. BORING!
Gabriel sat for a moment. Getting involved wasn’t his style, that was for sure. On the other hand, maybe Cas could use the information that Raggy was working with a cute chick. And, you know, Cas tended to hang out with those hunky Winchester boys these days. Maybe Sam was in the shower right now, and, you know, needed someone to soap his back! Hey, it was possible….
Minnie’s apartment seemed somehow larger on this inside than was possible given what Dean had seen of the exterior of the building. And it was utterly crammed full of odds and ends and knick knacks and tchotchkes. After ventures down a number of hallways, they ended up in the kitchen, which was just as cluttered as the office, and Minnie soon had a number of ingredients steaming and frying and boiling on just about every pot and pan in the place. Dean had lost track of what was supposedly the remedy for Cas and what was lunch, but had to admit it all smelled pretty damned good. Over in the corner, there was what he had at first taken as a stuffed owl resting on a perch, but some time through the conversation, it apparently woke up, and stared over at them, its eyes amber and intelligent.
Minnie had given Dean the assignment of removing Cas' jacket and shirts, as evidently she now believed the angel was too hapless to achieve such a thing for himself. Dean made himself a mental note to remember the “puppy dog eyes” ploy. Where the hell had Cas learned such a thing? Sam? Yeah, maybe Sammy was to blame. A bad influence. But then Dean’s thoughts turned to worry about Sam, and he made himself shut off that line of thought.
Minnie had just wrapped up some sort of mystery poultice in a hot towel, and ordered Cas, who was seated at the table, to lean forward. It had a very familiar odor to it, like candy. “Now,” she told Dean, “you hold it right here,” she said, pushing the towel more or less in the center of Cas' back. She took Dean's hand and carefully placed it where hers had been. “There you go,” she said, as Dean felt Castiel's muscles quite suddenly start to relax. Cas propped his elbows on the kitchen table and glanced up at Dean: it was a weird, dopey, mildly drunken expression Dean didn't even think he'd seen on the angel's face before.
“He's gonna be a little goofy for a while,” Minnie whispered to Dean. “You know, the aniseed oil.”
“The what?” asked Dean.
“The anise,” said Minnie. “Wait, you have an angel boyfriend, and you don't know about anise? I swear,” she said, returning to the stove, where she gave one of the frying pans a jiggle. “I should write a book.”
“He's not my...” started Dean, who stopped when Minnie shot a glance at him. “OK, OK.” Dean watched Cas sprawled contentedly over the kitchen table, purring like a contented cat. He decided to try a different tack. “So, I don't wanna be rude, but you're a goddess? Like a real goddess?”
“Yeah,” said Minnie. “That was my gig. Goddess of wisdom! But, who needs a wisdom god any more, am I right? You kids these days know it all.”
“Oh! So you're-”
“They called me Minerva, among other names. I got a lot of names. But that was back in the day.” She dipped a large wooden spoon into a bowl and tasted. “Mmm! I make my own tzatziki. Wanna try?”
Dean leaned over and took a taste from the same spoon. It was awesome. He wondered if there was room on the table for him to collapse like Cas, as he had started to get the impression they weren't going to leave this place without bellies full of Greek food. Delicious fucking Greek food. He wished Sammy were here, and then regretted once again thinking of his brother.
“So you wanted to know about Crowley and Jahi, right?” asked Minnie, grabbing a crystal decanter and putting it in the center of the table along with a few mismatched glasses.
“Yeah,” said Dean, who, one handed, poured himself a glass of what turned out to be a sweet wine. Honey, maybe? He cast a glance at Cas, who was still pretty blissed out.
“I worked for both of 'em,” said Minnie. “I don't like to play favorites, and I'm pretty much the go to person now for demon divorces.”
“You get a lot of demon divorces?” asked Dean, sipping his wine and checking to make sure the towel on Cas’ back was still positioned right.
“Yeah, like you'd expect. Maybe not as many as you humans. But those guys inevitably have a ton of crap to divide up.”
“Really?” asked Dean, eyeing the clutter in the kitchen.
“OK, yeah, I should talk. Anyway, Crowley's a bastard. I mean, am I right?”
“You're right.”
“He's an asshole, but he plays fair. I mean, at least he's got rules. But it's pretty clear Jahi is fucking around, playing games. Concealing assets, basically. So some time back I tell her, go fuck yourself, bitch, we're done. Well, that doesn't sit well with Little Miss Cursed Tits. She's a demon of lasciviousness, by the way. Those bitches always expect to get their way. I'm like, yeah yeah, take that shit to Pan, I'm the wisdom god, lady. So now I'm working only for Crowley, she starts sending her minions – her minions! - after me, like that's gonna intimidate me.”
“I take it that didn’t intimidate you,” said Dean.
“You take it right. Anyway, what I think set her off was the alimony demand.”
“Alimony?” asked Dean. “Crowley was supposed to pay her?”
Minnie barked out a laugh. “Ha! He didn’t tell you. Typical man. Naw, Crowley asked her for alimony.”
“No shit?”
“No shit. I mean, crossroads, that’s a good gig mind you, but sex sells, and like I said, she’s a sex demon. And word is Crowley took a bath when he was trying to run hell. Oh, look, the lamb's nearly done. You can take off the towel.”
Dean removed the towel from Cas’s back. The angel immediate straightened up and blinked.
“How does that feel, baby?” asked Minnie, who was now placing platters on the table.
“I feel … much improved. I thank you!” said Castiel, who, Dean had to admit, looked a lot less like he was going to barf.
“Aw, that’s good sweetie,” said Minnie, who leaned over and patted Cas’ cheek, to the angel’s apparent approval.
“Uh, Minnie, you know, this guy is a million years old?” said Dean, who was getting a bit annoyed at the spectacle.
“Hundreds of millions, actually,” said Minnie, who pulled out a chair and sat down. “But those poor angels, growing up without a mother like that!”
“I grew up without a mother,” said Dean.
“Tsk, you poor dear!” tutted Minnie. “Here, have some of my gyros! I make my own tzatziki!” Dean grabbed an overstuffed pita bread. He noticed Cas, who could usually give food a pass, was already digging in.
“This is really very good,” said Cas through a mouthful of food.
“You need to taste the shawarma as well,” said Minnie, holding up another platter. Cas greedily grabbed it, even though he was only halfway through his first sandwich.
The owl, which Dean had almost forgotten about, had now fluttered over, and perched on the back of Minnie’s chair. She picked bits of meat from her sandwich and handed it up to him.
“You feeling OK, buddy?” Dean asked Cas as he watched his friend now attempt to eat two-handed.
“I don’t think I have felt so good in many eons,” munched Castiel.
“Well, you might feel a sting when the anise wears off,” said Minnie.
“I’m sorry?” asked Castiel, tilting his head.
“I put a little bit in the poultice, since you said you were having trouble with pain,” said Minnie, holding up the towel Dean had been pressing on Cas.
Castiel suddenly set down both of his sandwiches, all of his attention focused on the towel. He leaned over and, seeming careful not to actually touch the towel, took a whiff.
“Just a pinch,” said Minnie. “Didn’t want you to pass out.”
“That smell,” said Cas.
“Pure aniseed oil. I use only the best,” said Minnie, setting the towel aside.
“We are vulnerable to it,” said Cas.
“That’s one way of putting it, I suppose,” laughed Minnie.
“What’s up, Cas?” asked Dean. Castiel looked as if he were concentrating very hard.
“When I was with Raguel, his breath smelled of something I did not recognize at first, Dean. This smell,” he said, pointing to the towel.
“Wait, someone fed him so much you could smell it on his breath? And he was still walking around?” asked Minnie.
“You think someone … doped him up? Or something like that?” asked Dean.
“I fear that may be the case,” said Castiel, who picked up his shawarma again and started to chew thoughtfully.
“Could someone do that?” Dean asked Minnie.
“Well, I’m not sure. Usually you give them enough to affect them, they’re like your friend here,” said Minnie, “on the floor. But I’m not so familiar with archangels. Tend to give the bastards a wide berth. Don’t get me started on that Lucifer person. Bad news.”
“So, we have a crazy bitch demon, and a doped up psycho archangel. Great,” said Dean.
“It actually seems a typical venture for us,” said Castiel through a mouthful of grilled lamb.
“Can I ask what you boys do?” asked Minnie, giving Dean a critical eye.
“Honestly? My brother and I, we’re hunters. You know, demons, restless spirits, that kinda thing.” He didn't volunteer that they had hunted down goddesses before.
“Oh!” said Minnie, who, to Dean's surprise, smiled happily. “Some of Artie’s boys! Very good.”
“Artie?” asked Dean.
“The very first hunter. Old buddy of mine. I’ll introduce you some time.”
“Wow,” said Dean, who was picturing in his head something like a Greek Chuck Norris. Only maybe even more awesome. He leaned back and slung an arm around the chair next to him, where he had draped the jean jacket he had loaned Cas, as the angel had lost his overcoat to Raguel. “Minnie,” Dean said, suddenly digging into the pocket, “you appraise magical stuff?” He grabbed something and tossed it over to her.
Minnie looked at the motel key. “Glasses, Hegel?” she said. The owl flapped off, and returned with a pair of reading glasses in its beak. She donned the glasses and turned the object over.
“What do you think of that?” asked Dean, who noticed Cas had stopped eating again.
“You angels kill me,” said Minnie. “Did you do this, hon?” she asked Castiel.
“I am … Castiel,” said Cas.
“Castiel,” she said, considering the name. “You put away some of your grace in this, didn’t you, Castiel?”
“I did?” asked Cas.
“Did he?” asked Dean.
Minnie tossed the key to Castiel, who grabbed it and looked with astonishment. “Oh,” he said. “That is why Raguel could not remove my grace.”
“So, it’s magic?” asked Dean.
“Yeah. It’s magic,” said Minnie.
“Look, Minnie…” started Dean. He glanced over to Cas, who nodded at him. “Something I didn’t tell you. Raguel…. He’s got Crowley now. And … my brother.”
Minnie removed her eyeglasses and stared at Dean.
“We thought they weren’t in a lot of danger. He wants angel grace. But if someone’s got him doped up, like you said…” He looked at Castiel again. The sense of worry he had been tamping down for the past days had suddenly bubbled up.
Minnie nodded. “I have a lot of contacts in the demon world. I’ll see if I can figure out what the fuck Jahi’s been up to. I sense her claws all over this.”
Crowley heard the distinctive sound of her footsteps even before he smelled her this time.
“Where ees eet?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said the demon, pushing himself painfully up to a sitting position.
“You know fuckeeng well what I am talkeeng about.”
“Had I ever told you, my dearest: some women, as you know, can get terribly attractive when they are angry? This has never been the case for you.”
Jahi glowered. She stood glaring over Crowley. “I weell burn everyzhing of yours. Everyzhing!”
“You won’t even be able to find it, sweetheart.”
Jahi turned to where Sam was stirring in the cell nearby. “I weell cut hees heart out.”
“I would actually encourage you to do that,” chuckled Crowley as Sam blinked.
“You are bluffeeng!”
Crowley laughed, and then gripped his side and moaned. “If you touch one luxuriant hair on the lovely moose’s skull, you will only incur the wrath of his elder brother. Which will be most amusing to watch.”
Jahi fumed, and then disappeared.
“Uh, Crowley,” asked Sam.
“Yes?”
“Uh, who was that?”
“Oh. No one of consequence,” said Crowley, waving a hand dismissively.
“Uhhhhhh. She just kind of threatened to cut out my beating heart?” croaked Sam.
“Oh, foof. A bluff.”
“I’m kind of attached to my heart Crowley.” Something occurred to him as Sam stared through the bars. “Holy fuck, is that the ex?”
“Hardly holy, but yes, that is the ex,” acknowledged Crowley.
“She’s um, attractive?”
“Oh, she is ever so much more when she smiles,” Crowley noted. “Women do tend to forget a pleasant expression is their biggest asset! As well as a sense of humor. And really big tits.”
Jahi had appeared again. She was not wearing a very pleasant expression.
She held in her long-nailed hands the damaged lab coat.
“No,” whispered Crowley.
Jahi snapped her fingers, and a flame appeared at her fingertips.
Crowley had used the cell bars to struggle to his feet. “Now, my dear. Think about this. This is not about you and me! This coat is a part of the cultural heritage.”
“Where. Zhe fuck. Ees eet?” hissed Jahi.
“Jahi!”
“Crowley!”
“I don’t know!” pleaded Crowley. “I really, honestly do not know!”
And then the edge of the coat erupted in flames.
“NOOOO!” screamed Crowley.
Jahi paused for effect, and then tossed the coat to the floor, stamping out the flames with her high heeled shoe.
“Remember!” she spat.
And then she was gone, the crumpled, burnt coat lying before the cell.
“Noooo!” wailed Crowley. “Don’t leave the coat on the floor like that! It will get dirty!”
The drive back to Bobby’s, like the drive out, was conducted mostly in silence. Dean glanced over at Cas, who was looking especially disheveled. He had shrugged back into his clothes, but hadn’t bothered to button the flannel shirt Dean had bought him, and it just hung down, looking rumpled, as all of Cas' clothing had a tendency to do. He held the motel room key in his hand, and had been turning it over and over, as if thinking something over.
Dean turned down the car stereo. “Puppy dog eyes, huh?” he asked, more to break the silence than anything else. “You got a way with women, I guess. Or maybe with goddesses.”
Cas looked up sharply at Dean. “Are you experiencing feelings of jealousy, Dean?”
“What? No! I mean, maybe. I mean…. Look, Cas! You’re a million years old! It’s not like you’re an innocent little kid and I’m the bad guy!”
Cas tilted his head. “I never claimed innocence, Dean. I have, on the contrary, done a great number of terrible things during my existence. I have always admitted this.”
It was Dean’s turn to frown. He glared and thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “That’s not what I meant,” he muttered.
“Are you possibly concerned regarding your brother, Dean?” Cas asked, more softly this time.
“He’ll be OK,” said Dean. “He’s OK. He’s been in worse scrapes than this.”
Castiel was silent for a moment. He pocketed the key. “I have decided what I must do,” he said at last.
“Wait. What do you mean?” asked Dean.
“I know now Raguel cannot kill me. You realize this as well, correct?”
“Cas,” said Dean. “What are you doing?”
“What I must,” said Castiel.
Dean heard the wingbeats, and the car veered over to the shoulder, screeching to a halt. Dean looked to the passenger seat, but of course, there was no one.
“Cas? God damn it,” muttered Dean, pounding a fist to the steering wheel. “Did you zap out again? You could have zapped me with you!” he yelled.
