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tikificTitle: Leopard Skin Pillbox Hat (Blood on the Tracks, Chapter 7 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: Around 40K total, give or take.
Summary: The final confrontation, featuring humans and demons and angels and goddesses, but it's probably not what you think. I know Dean is annoyed.
Notes: This started out as post-Season 7, but ended up more Classic Team Free Will, because that's how I roll. This isn't quite complete, as there's also going to be a short coda where I tie up at least a few of the loose ends.
About a month ago....
The sound of lightsabers humming and clashing emitted from the television. A space battle, in a galaxy far, far away.
Sam nudged the pizza box that was sitting between them on the bed. “You want another slice?” he asked, politely holding up the lid.
Castiel nodded and leaned forward. “I.... I think I will,” he said. “A small one.” He took one of the smaller pieces, putting a careful hand underneath so it wouldn't whip around and stain the bedspread. Sam grabbed a bigger slice and closed the lid. Then he readjusted himself back against the headboard. The picture flipped from an epic space battle to a women nattering about controlling her genital herpes.
Sam cringed, and then glanced at Cas, who was nibbling at his slice. He knew the angel didn't technically need to eat, just as he hadn't really needed to slip off his coat and flop it over a chair. He seemed to want to be companionable tonight, and Sam didn't mind.
“A mistake?” asked Sam as at last he got to the cheese-stuffed crust. It wasn't the first time he'd asked this particular question. It was getting to be a bit of a refrain, a call and response.
“A mistake,” answered Cas.
Sam shook his head. He popped the rest of the crust in his mouth and sat forward, long legs twisted up like a lanky Buddha. “Look,” he said, brushing at a small grease spot on his jeans. “You didn't ask for advice, but I'm gonna give you some, anyway. I know you, and I think you think you're misunderstanding this because of the angel thing.”
Cas didn't reply, but cocked his head, as if listening with interest.
“But the truth is, with my brother, you just don't fucking know. You don't know how his mind works,” said Sam, tapping his own cranium. “You just … I dunno. Look. Where Dean is concerned, here's the rule. Pay attention to what he does. And not what comes out of his mouth. Because what he says sometimes....” Sam ended with a shrug.
“Oh,” said Castiel, who nevertheless looked perplexed. He blinked at Sam, staring into his eyes in that unnerving manner of his. “I had thought that your brother was being … a dick?”
“Oh, yeah! He's definitely being that!” laughed Sam, poking at the pizza box again.
“All right,” nodded Castiel, who sat back, the half-finished pizza slice still clutched primly in his hands. “I believe I like pizza, Sam. Although I do not think I like it as much as hamburgers.”
“That's OK,” said Sam, grabbing another slice.
“So,” mused Castiel. Sam watched, visibly puzzling out the wonders of human relations. Cas turned again to Sam. “The Force: do you think it is the equivalent to God?”
“Hey, that's a great question!” said Sam, who began to elaborate in great detail.
The present day....
Dean looked around.
This was not what he had pictured as the residence of the original hunter.
Although, thinking about it, he wasn't quite sure what he had in mind. Maybe Bobby's wrecking yard, only writ large? And with tires and barbed wire set out back and a bunch of black-clad guys all out there training in the mud while big guys barked at them? Maybe he was thinking of an army movie?
“Artie?” Minnie asked again, pushing at the intercom button on the vast front porch. Thanks to angelic mojo, they had all appeared here – Sam, Dean, Castiel and Minerva, erstwhile goddess of wisdom – else they also would have also needed to request passage through tjhe high, iron fence that surrounded the property.
Artemis was a Greek goddess too though, right? That would explain the big old white columns in front of her home. Though it still looked more like something out of “Gone with the Wind” than “Clash of the Titans.” Maybe there was football training here? No, that was “Remember the Titans.”
“Artemis? Are you around?” Minnie grumbled into the intercom.
“Mi-NER-va! Its been for-EV-er!”
The vision who appeared in the doorway, giving Minnie insincere air kisses, was nothing like what Dean had pictured in his head. She was tall. Taller even than Dean – she was nearly as tall as Sam, tottering in six inch heels – blonde as hair could possibly be bleached, eyes a perfect shade of contact lens blue.
“These are Sam and Dean. They're hunters,” said Minnie as they all filed into Artemis’ mansion.
“Oh you're my boys! How stunning!” gushed Artemis.
“And this is their friend, Castiel,” said Minnie as the group gawped at the high-ceilinged entryway.
“Oh, an angel?” asked Artemis. Her collagened lips pushed into a moue. “Sweetie, you KNOW about my allergy to down feathers?” she told Minnie.
“I am not winged in this form,” explained Castiel.
“And I am Artemis Huntsman-Oglethorpe,” fluttered Artemis. “Welcome to my stately home. Can we all take off shoes?” she asked, waving a long-finger-nailed hand at their feet. “I don't want stains on the carpet! Ooo, hello little sweetie!” she sang as a tiny white dog came yipping out. “Mommy will get you something,” she said, sweeping it up and giving it more air kisses and tottering out of the entryway.
Dean, who was sitting down on the carpet next to Minnie unlacing his boots, shot an annoyed glance at the goddess.
“I think some of the brains leeched out with that dye job,” whispered Minnie. “But don't worry, she's still got it.”
“Got what?” muttered Dean, rolling his eyes.
“Artemis … Huntsman-Oglethorpe?” asked Sam.
Minnie sighed. “More like Huntsman de Medici Rothschild Ali Khan Romanov Astor Vanderbilt Oglethorpe. But I lost count some time during the Renaissance. Her specialty is rich gentlemen. Elderly rich gentlemen.” Minnie added.
“Is this Mr. Oglethorpe?” asked Sam, indicating a large oil portrait in the entryway.
“The late Mr. Oglethorpe,” said Minnie. “Died in the saddle, if you know what I mean,” she told him, arching an eyebrow.
Dean chuckled, but Cas asked, “He was a horseman?”
“We’ll explain later, Cas,” grinned Sam.
“Artie,” called Minnie, who was on her feet and hurrying after her tall friend. “We got a job for you.”
“Now, Minnie, you know I don't do that sort of thing anymore,” Artie called.
Dean hurried after them as well. Artemis had tottered into her kitchen. Acres and acres of marble countertop. She was sitting on a stool, the tiny white dog up on the counter, eating something off a saucer. Dean squinted. She had an open tin on the counter that said pate de fois gras.
“I'm doing a divorce,” said Minnie.
“Awwwwww!” said Artemis, suddenly coming off the stool and catching Dean and Castiel each by a shoulder. “Are you two getting divorced? I'm sooo sorry!”
“What?” asked Dean. “We're not- We didn't-”
“Oh, that's good, it's nice to have your own angel. Look at those puppy dog eyes!” she cooed, patting a completely mystified Castiel on his cheek.
Dean sputtered but couldn't manage to produce any words.
“Artie!” said Minnie. “Listen! It's Crowley's divorce.”
“Ewwww!” said Artemis, plonking back on a stool and scooping the little dog back onto the floor. “Jahi is such a bitch! Isn't she?”
“She is.”
“Soooo,” said Artemis, leaning towards Minnie. “You and Crowley....”
“Artie! Crowley is a demon!”
“Awww! But he has such a sexy voice! I loooooove British accents. Don't you?” she asked Sam.
“Uhhhh,” said Sam.
“Artie. I am not gonna chase after Crowley. And you of all people should know damn well why,” said Minnie.
“'Cause you like Bobby?” grinned Dean before Artemis could offer another opinion.
“WHO'S BOBBY?” gushed Artemis.
“Nobody!” grumbled Minnie. “Stop trying to fix me up, Artie! Look, we need a location spell. Something airtight!”
“What's the object?” asked Artemis, who was suddenly directing all her attentions towards an emery board and a hangnail.
“Jahi has one of her possessions in a demon hex box of some kind,” Sam explained. “Crowley wasn't sure what was in it. But he hid it from her, so well now he can't find it.”
“I knew he was concealing something! Did I tell you?” Artemis asked Minnie. “Can't trust those guys with the sexy accents.”
“We gotta get the box, Artie,” said Minnie.
“Eh, why not leave it lost? Serve the bitch right!” said Artemis.
“It’s a long story,” sighed Minnie.
“Ooo, I love long stories!” said Artemis.
“OK, OK,” sighed Minnie. “Jahi is in league with some kind of batshit archangel named Raguel.”
“Ewwww!” said Artemis. “I avoid archangels. No offense!” she told Castiel.
“None taken,” he told her.
“We think she’s drugged him,” Dean supplied. “You guys have some kind of angel catnip?”
“Yeah, I think maybe Jahi ran off with a bottle of my pure aniseed oil,” admitted Minnie. “Anyway, she gave this Raguel fellow Crowley’s lab coat-“
“Not the 1938 ‘Bride of the Demon!’” fussed Artemis.
“That’s the one. And get this: he’s now kidnapping angels and carving out their grace. It almost happened to Castiel!” said Minnie, pointing to Cas.
“Oh, you poor, poor angel!” cooed Artemis, who seemed to have forgotten her allergy to down.
“But the point is,” said Sam, “she’s evidently feeding the grace to other demons. It makes them … unstable.”
“She sent one against me. Fucking blew up!” Minnie told Artemis, miming and explosion with her hands.
“We think one of Jahi's demons took out an entire city in Russia,” added Sam.
“Oooo, how thrilling!” said Artemis.
“We’re thinking she’s going to move against locations where Crowley’s stuck his assets,” said Sam.
“Which is…?” asked Artemis. “Oh, not here I hope?”
“Just about everywhere, sweetie,” said Minnie.
“Oh no!” said Artemis, clutching again at her little dog, who yipped in protest.
“So, that’s why we need to find Jahi’s box,” said Minnie. “We need to have a bargaining chip.”
“But wasn't it Crowley's location spell that put Raguel on our scent?” asked Dean, casting a nervous glance at Castiel.
“Oh, honey!” sighed Artemis. “Don’t worry your pretty little hunter head over that. That’s why you should never send a demon to do a goddess' work!” She rose to her full height. “All right, let's get to the armory, and get my stuff.” And with that, she tottered off down the hall, the tiny dog nipping at her heels. Although it seemed to Dean physically impossibly for someone to actually walk in those shoes, on those long legs she was terrifically fast, and he found himself part jogging, stocking-footed, after her. He noted with annoyance that his socks had holes in both the big toes.
“She's got an armory?” he whispered to Sam.
“Guess so,” said Sam, who was looking around with interest. Funny, Dean thought he'd seen this house before on TV. One of those shows they advertised during Dr. Sexy: Real Bitchy Chicks of Beverly Hills, or something like that.
“I notice she doesn't have to take her shoes off!” groused Dean.
“It's her house.”
They finally arrived at a most impressive library: two full stories of shelves bursting with books. At least, it was impressive until Dean glanced at the titles: lots of self-help and new age crap. He shook his head in disgust, imagining Bobby’s reaction to all the waste.
“Just a minute, just a minute,” said Artemis, who, as her annoying dog yipped, started to reposition what looked like a random assortment of books from a shelf underneath the staircase. She stepped back, there was a small creak, and then a hidden door popped out.
“Oh, cool!” said Dean. A secret door? Artemis and Minnie and Cas had already slipped inside, and Sam hastened to follow them. The doorway was low enough both Artemis and Sam had to duck their heads. “Is there room inside for all of us in there?” asked Dean.
Sam popped his head back out, huge grin on his face. “Uh. Yeah. I think so.”
Dean entered. It was like a crazy cross between a Costco warehouse and the last scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark. He frowned and peeked back out the door, and then looked inside again. Artemis' house was monstrous, but there was no way it was this monstrous.
“Ingredients ingredients ingredients,” trilled Artemis, as she strode over to a section that resembled nothing so much as the spice bins at Whole Foods. She was suddenly holding an ancient book in her hand – there was no way she had grabbed it outside from among those crappy self-help books – and began throwing odds and ends into a little plastic shopping bin. “Witch's tongue: oh ewwww! The house is gonna smell after this one. Oh, could you grab me the powdered unicorn horn from up there, sweets?” she asked Castiel. He pointed up to a shelf near the ceiling and in an instant had a vial in his hands. “Oh, it's so nice to have an angel around when you have high shelves!” said Artemis as she patted his cheek and plonked the vial in her basket.
“You know what might be good, Artie?” asked Minnie.
“Mmmm?”
“Judging from the visitors she's been sending me, Jahi's got a pretty big posse of demons.”
“Oh, they always have minions,” sighed Artemis. “Minions minions minions.”
“Maybe the hunters could … borrow a few items while we're here?” asked Minnie, getting an enthusiastic nod from Dean.
“Oooo! That's a lovely idea!” said Artemis. “You know where it is. Take anything you like dears! You're my little hunters! I'll just keep my angel here, and we'll be done in a flash.”
Minnie inclined her head, and Sam and Dean followed her away.
“Her angel,” fumed Dean.
“Artie's a little … high strung,” said Minnie. “But she'll do a good job on the spell. And she's got a sweet little armory back here.”
But Minnie didn't have to elaborate. Dean turned a corner and thought he was going to have a weapons-gasm.
“Erk. Does your friend have a shopping cart?” asked Dean. “I'm gonna need one!”
“I can probably find a hand truck,” laughed Minnie. “Let me see.” She departed, and Dean occupied himself trying to find the perfect shotgun while Sam poked in the cold iron implements. For a while, the brothers lost themselves in the paraphernalia of demon battling 101.
“I think we're ready to go,” said Artie, who showed up a while later with Minnie and the handtruck. Castiel trailed in back of them, somewhere behind the pile of objects in the now incredibly heavy looking shopping basket, although he evinced no apparent strain at the weight.
“Can you give us another minute or two?” asked Dean, who was down on the floor half buried in firepower.
“Sure, love!” said Artemis. “I like this one myself, good stopping power,” she said, suddenly hefting a sawed off shotgun. “But my weapon's the bow, you know,” she sighed, placing it down on the floor again.
“Yeah, you should see this girl loose arrows!” said Minnie.
“Maybe later, I just had my nails done. We'll just go get started on the little spell.”
“We can make you some lunch, honey, you look starved!” Minnie told Castiel.
“As you probably know, angels do not require food,” came a voice from somewhere behind the pile of oddments in the shopping basket.
“No, sweetie, you're looking pale. And maybe we'll give you a little more treatment with the aniseed oil.”
“Oh, yes! That would be pleasant,” said Castiel, who suddenly turned and eagerly followed the goddesses out of the armory.
Dean shook his head. “That shit is like angel catnip,” he grumbled.
“Dean?” asked Sam, who had squatted down in order to be at eye level with his big brother.
“What!” snapped Dean. He then sighed, put down the rifle he had been cradling, and said more softly, “What, Sammy?”
“Look, Dean, don't take this the wrong way....”
“You're already making me take it the wrong way,” snapped Dean.
Sam ignored Dean and thumbed the edge of a cold iron knife. “So, the thing is, you know, nobody ever thought to send me my own angel from heaven.”
Dean glared.
“I dunno. You might wanna consider being less of a dick,” said Sam.
“OK, you want him? Why don't you take him? You two can go … pal around all day watching movies.”
“Dean....”
“He showed up, everything got … complicated!” said Dean, throwing up his hands in disgust.
“Everything was already complicated,” sighed Sam. “It's us, right?”
Dean shrugged and exhaled. Carefully laying out a selection of shotguns, and avoiding Sam's eyes, he said, “I'm gonna fuck it up, Sammy. Like I fuck up everything.”
“I doubt it.”
“That's reassuring.”
“Well, unless you're so afraid you're gonna fuck it up by accident that you fuck it up on purpose. Which you'd never do,” smirked Sam.
“OK, who's being a dick now?” asked Dean, regarding his grinning brother. “Let's get this haul out of here and see what the goddesses are doing with my fucking angel,” he urged.
Dean wheeled out the truck, feeling a little like he'd just visited Hunter Costco. As it turned out, once they exited the secret stash, the door automatically sealed itself up. They pushed on down the hallway of Artemis' elaborate mansion. Dean was unprepared for the sight they came upon in the kitchen.
Castiel, whose face was already flushed pink, turned a deeper shade of crimson when he saw Dean approach.
“They … uh … wanted to see.”
He had stripped to the waist, and somehow, once again extended the dark pair of wings he had grown after Crowley's enchantment.
“I thought you were allergic to down, Artie?” Minnie, who was over at the stove, baking and broiling and frying, demanded of her friend.
“Oh, but these are of such good quality,” said Artemis, who currently had her hands running through of some of Castiel's flight feathers. “They are so soft! You could not believe! Come here!” she urged, grabbing Sam's wrist and wrenching him over. “You will not believe.”
Sam put a hand down the wings, and suddenly his expression changed. “Wow! This is really soft!” Minnie wiped her hands on a dishtowel and, as Cas continued to look mortified, put a hand to the wings as well.
“Will you people please quit groping the angel!” said Dean.
“He said it would be OK,” protested Artemis, although Sam and Minnie, both looking a bit sheepish, took their hands off.
“I said I would take out the wings,” Castiel told Dean.
“Oh, hey, Artie, I think the vampire's tears are boiling over!” said Minnie.
“Oh, ewwww! Don't let it stain the stove!” shouted Artie as both goddesses ran to hunch over a burner.
“Dude, you didn't need to do this,” Dean whispered to Castiel.
“I did not wish to be impolite,” murmured Castiel, who looked up at him gratefully, wings drooping in misery. “They are assisting us!”
“You can...” said Dean, making a complicated motion that evidently meant folding wings away. Castiel shut his eyes, and then the wings somehow went back to wherever they had come from.
“That's actually pretty cool,” said Sam.
“I was afraid perhaps I could not make them go away,” Castiel told him. He seemed relieved. “Were we to fight, they are cumbersome.”
Dean was already handing him his shirts, which he donned while Minnie bustled over with a platter. “Have some sandwiches,” she said, and turned to fuss over something else bubbling on the stove.
“Is this falafel?” Sam mouthed around his sandwich. He sounded like he couldn't believe his good luck.
“I make my own tzatzaki!” Minnie called back from the stove.
“Completely vegetarian!' said Sam, waving the sandwich, little flecks of white sauce going here and there.
Dean rolled his eyes and tried to find some lamb, and even Castiel was picking at something.
“Oh, look at this!” said Artemis. Minnie, using a pair of oven mitts, brought a large bowl over to the bar area.
“That's not lemon rice soup is it?” wondered Dean. It smelled delicious.
“Ha! It's our location spell!” laughed Minnie. She pulled the ring of Jahi's hair from her pocket, and popped it into the bowl, where it fizzled and created a puff of black smoke.
Artemis raised a well plucked eyebrow and pulled on some Playtex living gloves. And then she started running her hands through the gooey stuff in the bowl, frowning in concentration.
“Can we drink the spell after she's done?” asked Dean.
“It's got hair in it!” said Sam. “Yuck!”
“Hey, after bloodworm stew…” said Dean.
“Have another gyros, honey,” said Minnie, who was herself jamming her mouth full of sandwich.
“Oh, are you eating lunch, Minerva?” Artemis asked Minnie as she trolled her hands through the bowl.
“Of course I'm eating lunch!” said Minnie.
“I'm on the San Antonio diet!” said Artemis.
“What the hell is that?” asked Minnie.
“Maybe you eat cowboys?” proposed Dean.
Minnie suddenly threw her head back and choked with laughter. “I'm down for that, honey!” she laughed.
“Shhhhh!” said Artemis.
“Are you getting something?” asked Sam, who wondered if he was the only one still paying attention.
Artemis suddenly withdrew her hands from the bowl, a look of horror on her face.
“Artie, what's wrong, honey?” asked Minnie.
“Oh, this is horrible!” said Artie, contact-blue eyes filled with horror.
“What's the matter?” asked Dean.
“Did it get destroyed?” worried Sam.
“No, it's worse!” wailed Artie. “It's in Barstow! Ewwwwww..... Central Cailfornia!”
Sam, Dean, and Castiel all looked at each other. To Dean's infinite amusement, it was Castiel who rolled his eyes.
The demon strode confidently into the Second Circle.
But not a single eye inside Fenriz’s strip club was on Crowley.
That's because almost every being in the place was staring at his lovely companion: she was an utterly gorgeous green-eyed redhead, almost a head taller than he, with a body clearly engineered by the same heavenly beings who had created Sophia Loren. And it was all poured into an astonishingly tight, slinky dress.
Even in the middle of a crowded strip club, she made quite a show.
Crowley didn't have to beckon to a waitress to let him in back this time. The door was swung wide open.
Fenriz sat alone at the great card table tonight, although a couple of his minions were milling around in the back of the room.
“You are bringing me back my item, I presume?” rumbled the deep-voiced demon. He looked at the woman, and stirred in his chair, the effect being a bit like an entire mountain quivering.
“I'm bringing you something better,” smirked Crowley.
Crowley's companion slipped off his arm and wiggled into Fenriz' ample lap.
“A woman? You mock me,” said Fenriz, although his gaze did linger on her. “I can have any woman.”
Crowley invited himself to sit, though on a chair, not a lap. “No, not Lilu here, though she is lovely.” Crowley motioned to Lilu. She reached two fingers into her ample bosom, and extracted something. It was a conical vial on a long chain, which she dangled in front of Fenriz, but then quickly handed over to Crowley.
Fenriz leaned closer, Lilu giggling on his lap. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked.
“Pure. Angelic. Grace,” said Crowley.
Fenriz sat back, seemingly impressed. “How the hell did you get something like that? You have to kill an angel, don't you?”
“Details,” tutted Crowley. “The really sad part is, I can't enjoy my little celestial steriods.”
“No?” asked Fenriz.
“No,” pouted Lilu, putting a long nailed hand down Fenriz’s chest.
“Why not?”
“My meatsuit’s in the wrong bloodline,” sighed Crowley, giving the vial a little spin on the end of the chain. The cuts in the glass picked up the light and sparkled.
“It takes a real man to contain such an essence,” purred Lilu. Fenriz took in a breath. It was getting a little difficult for him to think clearly.
“Pity, that,” said Crowley. “It will increase your powers, not by half, not even tenfold, but thousandfold. Well, so I hear.”
“That's the rumor,” Lilu breathed into Fenriz's ear.
“Crowley,” said Fenriz, ducking away from Lilu. “No more nonsense. Where is my compass?”
“Well, that is a tale,” said Crowley.
“A sad tale,” said Lilu, her eyes wide.
“So, the fellow who sold me the angelic grace wanted to do a trade. As part of the deal.”
“Part of the deal,” echoed Lilu.
“My compass?” fumed Fenriz.
“Well, technically my compass,” muttered Crowley. “But, little details. And we're all friends here. As you know, I am not a stupid man. I had thought to do the deal, take in this angel essence for myself, and then, as it were, persuade our friend to let me borrow back the compass.”
“Just borrow it,” said Lilu, squeezing Fenriz's thigh for emphasis.
“I must have that compass!” blustered Fenriz.
“If only there were a way,” sighed Crowley. “But he is one tough customer, this Raguel, and I can't think of a way.” Crowley gave the bottle of angel grace a little toss in the air and caught it.
“Raguel,” said Fenriz. “An angel?”
“Oh, yes, an angel. Full of grace,” said Crowley, giving the vial another toss. He drew back as Fenriz snatched at the vial.
“Give me the grace,” thundered Fenriz.
“Or … what exactly?” asked Crowley, holding it up, just out of his reach.
“Give me the vial and I may let you leave here alive,” said Fenriz.
Crowley looked at Lilu, who shrugged. He tossed the vial to Fenriz. “Sounds good to me!” he sang. “Oh,” he added, flipping a card to Fenriz. “Here is Raguel’s last known address. But take care, my good friend!
Lilu had undulated out of Fenriz's lap and walking with Crowley to the door.
Fenriz signaled to a henchman. “Kill them. Kill them both,” he growled, large thumb already popping the top off the vial of grace.
Crowley and Lilu walked with surprising rapidity to the back door and were out in the alley before the two henchmen caught up with them. Lilu deftly turned and smashed their heads together and left them unconscious and bleeding in the alley. Then she and Crowley disappeared to the gentle whisper of wing beats.
“Ewww, Barstow,” bitched Artemis as the party of three – an angel and two goddesses – alit in the Shurgard parking lot.
Or party of four, we should say, as Artemis' little yappy dog was there as well, nipping at her heels.
“This way,” said Castiel, striding across the hot parking lot.
“You didn't have to come along, Artie,” sighed Minnie.
“I gotta see what's in it!” squealed Artemis.
“You know where it is, Castiel?” asked Minnie, who was now hurrying after the quickly striding angel.
“Yes, I can sense the presence now,” said Castiel. He paused before a storage shed and cast out his hand. The rolling door glowed slightly, and then rolled up, seemingly of its own volition. The trio hurried inside, Cas flicking a hand to turn on the one bare lightbulb.
There was only one object in the large storage shed, a single, shoebox-sized wooden box marked by arcane lettering.
“Can you open it, honey?” Minnie asked Castiel, who was crouching down, regarding the box. Artemis' dog was taking a sniff.
“I feel confident that I can. These are trivial demon tricks.” He looked at the goddesses. “Shall we wait for Sam and Dean to arrive with the armaments?”
Minnie and Artemis looked at each other. “NO!” they both shouted.
“I mean, um,” said Minnie, glancing at Artemis. “Jahi could be on the move right now with those grace-hopped demons. Need to investigate this. Quick!” Artemis nodded enthusiastically.
Castiel squinted at the women, and then stood up and told them, “Please stand back.” The goddesses backed up a few feet, craning their necks to peer at the box. He closed his eyes and extended one arm, palm out flat.
The symbols on the box began send out an eerie glow, which then, all at once, retracted into the box. And then the box rattled and, before their eyes, seemed to unfold, sort of like one of the big robots in a Transformer movie, building and building until the wooden box had built itself into....
“A doorway?” asked Artemis. “Huh. First I've seen of this.” She and her dog walked all the way around it. It was, indeed, a wooden door set in a frame.
“Yeah, demons. What are you gonna do. Am I right?” asked Minnie.
Then Castiel, who must have been curious as well, approached the door and carefully turned the knob. He opened it, and stuck his head inside. Artemis' dog barreled in as well, and then romped out. The door seemed to open onto a room in some other dimension.
Castiel stepped back out, seemingly confused. “I do not understand this.” He stepped back through, and Minnie and Artemis followed him this time.
It looked like they were inside a really enormous walk in closet, something about the size of a grand ballroom.
The space was completely filled with shelves, all of them bearing women's shoes, hats, purses and accessories.
“I do not understand,” repeated Castiel, picking up a faux leopard-skin handbag.
“Oh, I do,” grinned Minnie, as Artemis whistled low. Minnie stepped back out of the doorway, and got out her cellular phone and held it to her ear.
“Bitch,” Minnie yelled into the phone. “We got your Blahniks and your Birkins. You better talk turkey, or we're torching the lot with holy fire.”
Fenriz looked around, completely confused. Was this a movie set? What the fuck had Crowley pulled on him this time?
He wiped the sweat dripping from his bald forehead.
“Get thee behind me, Satan!” came a voice.
“Thanks for the compliment,” rasped Fenriz, pulling uncomfortably at his collar. “I've heard you have my compass, angel.” It was one weird angel. He was dressed like a mad doctor in some kind of human movie.
“I will exorcise you, foul swine!” yelled Raguel, who was suddenly directly in front of Fenriz, hand on his head.
“I wouldn't try it, bitch,” said Fenriz, who grabbed the archangel's arm and sent him crashing back against the wall. His gold-flecked grin flashed.
“Fiend!” roared Raguel, leaping to his feet apparently unhurt, although the wall looked the worse for wear.
“Why do you keep it so damned hot in here?” grumbled Fenriz, ripping at his shirt to show a sweating, lavender-hued chest.
“Goats to my left!” screamed Raguel, pouncing once again on the demon. “And more goats to my right.”
“I'll goat you,” rumbled Fenriz, who started to throttle Raguel. They wrestled for a moment, and then a hand was on Fenriz's forehead, and the demon threw his head back, jaw open, belching black smoke.
There was a low rumbling noise....
Two beings stood side by side at a safe distance, taking in the now purple-hued sunset.
“You enjoyed that entirely too much,” said Crowley, as the figure at his side suddenly morphed into a much shorter, and most definitely much less female figure.
“Drag acts are a classic!” lectured Gabriel. “Besides, guys do stupid stuff when there's a chick around.”
“Perhaps you are right. But you treasured every moment, nonetheless, didn't you?” asked Crowley.
Gabriel just grinned. He looked at the white laboratory coat Crowley had carefully draped over his arm. “So, is that the coat? That’s why we had to check the dungeon?”
Crowley nodded sadly. “It has sustained some damage but....” He frowned. He put a hand in one of the pockets. “Oh, what do you know?” he said, holding up a compass.
“Wonder how the hell it got there?” asked Gabriel.
“No fucking clue.”
“I could restore that, you know,” Gabriel offered, fingers on the burnt hem of the lab coat. “A little angel magic here and there.”
“Thank you, no,” said Crowley, tugging away the white coat. “No offense, but I've had quite enough of angelic interference with my piece.”
“Well,” said Gabriel. “I guess we should go do some manly stuff now, huh?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, go smoke cigars, drink whiskey....”
“Sounds good...”
“See if Sam Winchester is taking a shower....”
“WHAT?” asked Crowley.
But Gabriel's phone went off in his pocket just then. He took a glance. “Ah, your ex is on the move,” he said, and then his hand was on Crowley's shoulder, and, with a wing beat, they were there no more.
“This is one sweet ride!” enthused Sam, stepping out of the Porsche Cayenne that had just pulled up in the storage facility parking lot. He tossed the keys to Artemis.
“Thanks, hon,” said the goddess, catching the keys.
“If we ever need to upgrade from the Impala…” noted Sam.
“We're never gonna upgrade from the Impala!” swore Dean, who had just popped out of the passenger seat. “So, our secret mission is to make the world safe for shoes?” he asked.
“Well,” said Castiel. “There were also handbags....”
“And hats! Don't forget the hats!” said Minnie.
Someone had opened the back of the SUV by now, and in an instant there were a lot of bodies, both human and supernatural, poking their heads in grabbing weaponry. Artemis had a bow and a quiver, and a great big grin on her face.
“How many demons do you think Jahi has?” asked Sam.
“I dunno. A lot?” said Minnie.
“How many in a lot?” asked Dean, who was mulling over the various guns.
“A lot,” said Minnie.
“Never fear!” came a voice from the top of the SUV. “Big Gabe is here!”
“Whoever you are, will you get off my car! You'll get footprints!” raged Artemis.
“Gabriel! Damn your feathery hide! Get me the fuck down from here!” agreed Bobby, who, along with Crowley, had appeared beside the angel.
“Hey, you're welcome! Again!” said Gabriel. But then the threesome was down in the parking lot. Minnie made some quick introductions.
“What happened with Raguel?” asked Sam.
“Both the movie-prop desecrating archangel and the demon formerly known as Fenriz have been turned into attractive smears of purple protoplasm,” sneered Crowley.
“And Crowley here even got his coat back!” laughed Gabriel. “Though it looks more like a burnt pizza.”
“It can be restored,” protested Crowley.
“Raguel took my overcoat,” said Castiel, who was cradling a shotgun, far off look in his eyes.
“Hey, man, we could get you another coat,” said Dean quietly.
Castiel looked at him. “I could … reconstitute it I suppose. I simply find it … oddly annoying.”
“It was your coat,” Dean nodded sympathetically. He pointed to Castiel. “You don't like your clothes?”
“I appreciate my clothes, Dean,” said Castiel. “I thank you for purchasing them.”
“They look like your clothes, Dean,” laughed Sam, who had been observing the conversation.
“Well...” said Dean. He blushed but convered it in a scowl. “They're functional!” He turned to Bobby. “So, what's news on the Jahi-pocalypse, Bobby?” he asked.
“I'm not gettin' reports of crazy EMF readings in any of the locations Crowley mentioned,” Bobby told everyone. “I'm hopin' that means she hasn't graced up any demons yet.”
“That's a distinct relief,” said Crowley.
“If you gave us the right list,” snapped Minnie.
“Minerva! Why the hell would I mislead you on something like this?” asked Crowley.
“Because you can,” she sniffed.
“Oh! Don't be like that!” said Crowley.
“You'd probably wanna wait until right before you were ready to do it,” said Gabriel. “Those grace-juiced demons are not long-lived puppies. Fenriz was one big, powerful mother, and I don't think he lasted ten minutes.”
“It is very unstable,” agreed Castiel.
“So is my ex,” grumbled Crowley.
“Yeah, she had to live with you,” said Minnie.
“Oh, now we're sympathetic to Jahi?” mocked Crowley. “The woman you referred to as that cross-eyed cunt?”
“Who hass called me zee cross-eyed cunt?” came a really lovely, foreign accented female voice.
Dean looked up in surprise. He was used to the whispering approach of angels. Jahi had snapped into the parking lot with no sound, only a whiff of sulfur.
As had her veritable legion of minions, who were now pretty much perched all over the damned place. The E-Z-Stor parking lot was now filled with black-eyed beasties. It was like an Alfred Hitchcock movie.
Dean steeled himself, and those in his small party (and it really seemed small, despite the presence of two goddesses, a fairly powerful demon and two angels) instinctively drew into a circle around the vehicle, weapons drawn.
“I called you a cross-eyed cunt, you cross-eyed cunt,” snapped Minnie.
“Minerva,” warned Crowley.
“Pffft. Leettle goddess,” mocked Jahi. There were some chicks, Dean had noticed, who always seemed to have guys with a wind machine somewhere in back of her, and Jahi was one. Somehow, her amazing coppery hair was blowing out just so. Dean could see why Crowley had kept a lock of it, even though that kind of thing was sort of old-fashioned and weak.
But Minerva was right about one thing: she'd overdone the mascara, and she did look a little cross-eyed.
“I could undo you weeth a snap of my feengers!” said Jahi, snapping said fingers.
“Oh, spare me,” bitched Minnie.
“Now, whar ess my box?” Jahi demanded, turning to Crowley.
“Shoes?” he asked. “I mean, really, Jahi? You were ready to destroy San Francisco over your fucking Blahniks?”
“Californeea ees tacky, as are zhee people who leeve here!” said Jahi.
“Watch it bitch,” Artemis, notching an arrow.
“Whar ess thee box? Eet ees mine! Return it to me!” Jahi told Crowley.
Dean glanced up nervously. There were so many demons hovering around the storage unit, they had actually darkened the sky.
Crowley pointed. The lockbox was now on the asphalt between them. Castiel had somehow re-folded the doorway to shoe heaven and reconstituted it as a wooden box.
Jahi took a step towards it.
“Ummm!” warned Crowley, who also snapped his fingers. Flames now danced off his fingertips. “Pre-soaked in holy oil.”
“First, we would like all of the angelic grace returned,” stated Castiel.
“Before we get annoyed,” added Gabriel, who was suddenly standing beside Castiel. Jahi gasped and took a step back. It only happened for an instant, but Dean could have sworn he saw the archangel stretch out not one but three pairs of really massive, dark wings.
Jahi, looked at Crowley, and actually seemed nervous. “He ees an archangel,” she said.
“Drinking buddy,” said Crowley. “It's quite the thing. Everybody's got an archangel pal nowadays, it seems. Oh, except maybe, you.”
“Ja, I have heard. Raguel was zee eediot,” grumbled Jahi.
“You drugged him,” said Castiel.
“Zhose Seraphim! Zhey are stupeed!”
“Well,” allowed Gabriel. “She's got a point.”
Jahi whistled. Many weapons cocked as a demon suddenly appeared at her side. But he simply produced a batch of glowing conical vials, all hanging on silver chains. Jahi grabbed the chains and held them out. They disappeared from her hand, and ended up clutched by Gabriel. He and Castiel counted them.
“Think they're all here,” said Gabriel.
Jahi was glaring at Crowley, who put a toe on the box and kicked it towards her. She nodded, and the demon at her side was suddenly holding the box.
“So. You got what you what's important,” grumbled Crowley. “Shoes.”
“Better my shoes zhan your beeg movie zhunk!”
“It isn't junk!” fumed Crowley. “Besides, I thought you liked my film pieces!”
“Zat is all you thought about! Nevair me! Always zee leetle sword from zee space movie...”
“It was a lightsaber, woman!” growled Crowley.
“Whoa, you got a lightsaber,” asked Dean.
“An original stunt lightsaber,” Crowley told him.
“Cool,” said Dean. He squinted. “Uh. Original trilogy, or prequels?”
“Well. Prequels,” admitted Crowley. “But it had the blade!”
“Pretty cool,” admitted Dean.
“You and your toys! You know notheen!” Jahi shouted at Crowley. “Notheen!”
Crowley stepped forward. “You should show some respect,” he told her.
“Respect? You? Oh, you amuse me, leetle man.”
Crowley reached back his hand to slap her. Everybody cringed, but Jahi grabbed onto his wrist just before he made contact.
They glared at each other.
And then they were madly making out. Yes, with tongue. And everything. This seemed to discomfit nearly everybody, including some very confused demon minions.
“Oh. I didn't need to see that,” said Sam, covering his eyes.
“What are you doing?” Dean asked Gabriel, who was holding up his cell phone.
“This is so going on YouTube, man,” said the archangel.
“As Artemis would say, ewwww....” said Dean.
“I don't understand,” whispered Castiel.
“And for that, dude, you should be grateful,” Dean told him.
Jahi had now actually hopped up and wrapped her legs around Crowley's waist. Crowley opened one eye, looked around, and then, with a whiff of sulfur, they were both gone.
There was a confused silence. The demons appeared to regard each other, and then, with many shrugs, they too disappeared.
“So. Was I right, or was I right?” asked Minnie.
“When you're right, you're right,” said Artemis. She slipped two fingers into her bra and pulled out a dollar bill, which she snapped and handed over to Minnie.
“And that was why, among many, many other good reasons, you don't get involved with your divorce clients,” said Minnie.
“That? That's just fucking weird,” said Dean.
“Heh. Women,” laughed Bobby.
“Men!” countered Minnie. They grinned at each other.
“OK. I did not expect that,” said Sam.
“Really?” laughed Gabriel. “Aw, Sammy, you're so adorable,” he said, giving a very unappreciative Sam a Bugs Bunny like smooch on the forehead.
“You should see what I've seen, kids,” said Minnie, who was already piling her weapons back into the trunk of Artemis’ Porsche SUV.
“I do not understand,” Castiel repeated. “I thought that they were going to obtain a divorce?”
“Yeeeeeeah!” said about five voices all at once.
“Uh. So, you think they're back together now, Minnie?” asked Dean. “Like, forever?”
“Them?” asked Minnie. “No fucking way. But I'd give them another ten years, maybe.”
The arsenal made its way back into the SUV, and Artemis shut the door. “That was cool!” said Artemis, who was tottering around giving everyone air kisses as her dog trailed her. “We’ve gotta do that again, Minnie!”
“Maybe we’ll go get manicures next time, honey,” said Minnie.
“Or that!” agreed Artie. “Bye!” And then she and her little dog hopped into the SUV and disappeared.
“I gotta jet as well, work backing up,” said Minnie, consulting her wristwatch.
“Thanks for your help,” said Dean.
Minnie nodded. And turned. But then she turned back. She held a business card in two fingers, which she extended towards Bobby. “Uh. Did you get a card, Bobby? In case you ever need anything, you know, appraised?” she asked him.
Bobby snatched the card and grinned.
“That’s my personal cell on the back,” she said, indicating the handwritten number.
“I’m thinking I’m in need of a lot of appraisals,” said Bobby.
Minnie smiled back, and disappeared.
“Wait wait wait!” said Dean. Everyone looked at him. “All of us … all of us … here, and Bobby gets the goddess’ phone number?”
Bobby smiled and slotted the card in his front pocket. “Idjits,” he said. “Hey, Gabe, you give me a lift back to where you found me?”
“Yeah, sure,” said Gabriel.
“Oh, uh, you know what,” said Sam, who suddenly elbowed Gabriel. “I was gonna, uh, go back to Bobby's too. To do, uh, important stuff.”
“You were? Oh yeah, you were! Sure,” said Gabriel, casting a glance at Dean and Cas. And then he grabbed Sam and Bobby and the three of them were gone to the soft rustle of angel wings.
Castiel frowned, looking very confused.
“Cas,” said Dean. “Is there some place, maybe more private, we could go to, you know, talk?” Dean only had time to blink. “Oh,” said Dean, looking around the familiar setting. “This motel again. You like it here, huh?”
“I already have a key,” said Castiel, holding it up and giving a faint smile.
Dean sat down heavily on the edge of one of the beds.
“Cas…” started Dean.
“Oh. You actually mean to talk,” said Cas, tilting his head.
“Well, that was the intention. I guess,” admitted Dean. Castiel crossed his arms and scowled down at Dean. “Look, don’t give me the angel of vengeance look. I already suck at this.”
“Yes. You do.”
Dean took a breath. This was going to be harder than he expected. “You’re not a mistake. It wasn’t a mistake.” He looked up, batting his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“You are attempting puppy dog eyes!” scolded Cas.
“Aw. Shit. Look, Cas.” Dean shook his head and started to pick at something invisible and yet terribly interesting on the knee of his jeans. “I think you’re probably my best friend. And I don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t have a whole lot of friends, and we’ve both fucked this up pretty badly before. Both of us! Sometimes, when people get together…. You saw what happened with Crowley and Jahi! They end up wanting to destroy the fucking universe! Over shoes! And a lab coat!”
Castiel was silent for a time, parsing Dean's words. “So we are … together?” he finally asked.
Dean looked up to a pair of expectant eyes. “Well … yes,” he admitted dropping his eyes again.
“Then I will attempt not to destroy the universe!” said Cas.
“OK. Well, that's good. I guess.” Dean felt in his jeans pocket. “Hey, look,” he said, holding up a small vial. “Minnie gave me some of her aniseed oil-“ Dean stopped. He quite suddenly had a lap full of angel. Cas was gripping him by the lapels, hungry look in his eyes.
“Is this a violation of your personal space, Dean?” asked Cas, who did not appear to care.
Dean leaned in for a kiss that ended up taking rather longer than he had expected. Not that he much minded. Lots better than talking. Much, much better than talking. “This is just perfect,” he muttered.
“The anise oil?” asked Castiel.
“Oh! Oh yeah,” said Dean, who had quite suddenly and completely forgotten the vial clutched in his hand. “She says just a drop in the bathtub-”
“Bathtub?” asked Cas.
“Yeah, in the bathtub. You could-“ But then with a soft flutter of wings, Dean was no longer sitting on the bed. And neither was Cas.
And then there was the sound of running water. And two loud splashes.
“CAS!” came a shout from the bathroom. “You take your clothes off first!”
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: Around 40K total, give or take.
Summary: The final confrontation, featuring humans and demons and angels and goddesses, but it's probably not what you think. I know Dean is annoyed.
Notes: This started out as post-Season 7, but ended up more Classic Team Free Will, because that's how I roll. This isn't quite complete, as there's also going to be a short coda where I tie up at least a few of the loose ends.
About a month ago....
The sound of lightsabers humming and clashing emitted from the television. A space battle, in a galaxy far, far away.
Sam nudged the pizza box that was sitting between them on the bed. “You want another slice?” he asked, politely holding up the lid.
Castiel nodded and leaned forward. “I.... I think I will,” he said. “A small one.” He took one of the smaller pieces, putting a careful hand underneath so it wouldn't whip around and stain the bedspread. Sam grabbed a bigger slice and closed the lid. Then he readjusted himself back against the headboard. The picture flipped from an epic space battle to a women nattering about controlling her genital herpes.
Sam cringed, and then glanced at Cas, who was nibbling at his slice. He knew the angel didn't technically need to eat, just as he hadn't really needed to slip off his coat and flop it over a chair. He seemed to want to be companionable tonight, and Sam didn't mind.
“A mistake?” asked Sam as at last he got to the cheese-stuffed crust. It wasn't the first time he'd asked this particular question. It was getting to be a bit of a refrain, a call and response.
“A mistake,” answered Cas.
Sam shook his head. He popped the rest of the crust in his mouth and sat forward, long legs twisted up like a lanky Buddha. “Look,” he said, brushing at a small grease spot on his jeans. “You didn't ask for advice, but I'm gonna give you some, anyway. I know you, and I think you think you're misunderstanding this because of the angel thing.”
Cas didn't reply, but cocked his head, as if listening with interest.
“But the truth is, with my brother, you just don't fucking know. You don't know how his mind works,” said Sam, tapping his own cranium. “You just … I dunno. Look. Where Dean is concerned, here's the rule. Pay attention to what he does. And not what comes out of his mouth. Because what he says sometimes....” Sam ended with a shrug.
“Oh,” said Castiel, who nevertheless looked perplexed. He blinked at Sam, staring into his eyes in that unnerving manner of his. “I had thought that your brother was being … a dick?”
“Oh, yeah! He's definitely being that!” laughed Sam, poking at the pizza box again.
“All right,” nodded Castiel, who sat back, the half-finished pizza slice still clutched primly in his hands. “I believe I like pizza, Sam. Although I do not think I like it as much as hamburgers.”
“That's OK,” said Sam, grabbing another slice.
“So,” mused Castiel. Sam watched, visibly puzzling out the wonders of human relations. Cas turned again to Sam. “The Force: do you think it is the equivalent to God?”
“Hey, that's a great question!” said Sam, who began to elaborate in great detail.
The present day....
Dean looked around.
This was not what he had pictured as the residence of the original hunter.
Although, thinking about it, he wasn't quite sure what he had in mind. Maybe Bobby's wrecking yard, only writ large? And with tires and barbed wire set out back and a bunch of black-clad guys all out there training in the mud while big guys barked at them? Maybe he was thinking of an army movie?
“Artie?” Minnie asked again, pushing at the intercom button on the vast front porch. Thanks to angelic mojo, they had all appeared here – Sam, Dean, Castiel and Minerva, erstwhile goddess of wisdom – else they also would have also needed to request passage through tjhe high, iron fence that surrounded the property.
Artemis was a Greek goddess too though, right? That would explain the big old white columns in front of her home. Though it still looked more like something out of “Gone with the Wind” than “Clash of the Titans.” Maybe there was football training here? No, that was “Remember the Titans.”
“Artemis? Are you around?” Minnie grumbled into the intercom.
“Mi-NER-va! Its been for-EV-er!”
The vision who appeared in the doorway, giving Minnie insincere air kisses, was nothing like what Dean had pictured in his head. She was tall. Taller even than Dean – she was nearly as tall as Sam, tottering in six inch heels – blonde as hair could possibly be bleached, eyes a perfect shade of contact lens blue.
“These are Sam and Dean. They're hunters,” said Minnie as they all filed into Artemis’ mansion.
“Oh you're my boys! How stunning!” gushed Artemis.
“And this is their friend, Castiel,” said Minnie as the group gawped at the high-ceilinged entryway.
“Oh, an angel?” asked Artemis. Her collagened lips pushed into a moue. “Sweetie, you KNOW about my allergy to down feathers?” she told Minnie.
“I am not winged in this form,” explained Castiel.
“And I am Artemis Huntsman-Oglethorpe,” fluttered Artemis. “Welcome to my stately home. Can we all take off shoes?” she asked, waving a long-finger-nailed hand at their feet. “I don't want stains on the carpet! Ooo, hello little sweetie!” she sang as a tiny white dog came yipping out. “Mommy will get you something,” she said, sweeping it up and giving it more air kisses and tottering out of the entryway.
Dean, who was sitting down on the carpet next to Minnie unlacing his boots, shot an annoyed glance at the goddess.
“I think some of the brains leeched out with that dye job,” whispered Minnie. “But don't worry, she's still got it.”
“Got what?” muttered Dean, rolling his eyes.
“Artemis … Huntsman-Oglethorpe?” asked Sam.
Minnie sighed. “More like Huntsman de Medici Rothschild Ali Khan Romanov Astor Vanderbilt Oglethorpe. But I lost count some time during the Renaissance. Her specialty is rich gentlemen. Elderly rich gentlemen.” Minnie added.
“Is this Mr. Oglethorpe?” asked Sam, indicating a large oil portrait in the entryway.
“The late Mr. Oglethorpe,” said Minnie. “Died in the saddle, if you know what I mean,” she told him, arching an eyebrow.
Dean chuckled, but Cas asked, “He was a horseman?”
“We’ll explain later, Cas,” grinned Sam.
“Artie,” called Minnie, who was on her feet and hurrying after her tall friend. “We got a job for you.”
“Now, Minnie, you know I don't do that sort of thing anymore,” Artie called.
Dean hurried after them as well. Artemis had tottered into her kitchen. Acres and acres of marble countertop. She was sitting on a stool, the tiny white dog up on the counter, eating something off a saucer. Dean squinted. She had an open tin on the counter that said pate de fois gras.
“I'm doing a divorce,” said Minnie.
“Awwwwww!” said Artemis, suddenly coming off the stool and catching Dean and Castiel each by a shoulder. “Are you two getting divorced? I'm sooo sorry!”
“What?” asked Dean. “We're not- We didn't-”
“Oh, that's good, it's nice to have your own angel. Look at those puppy dog eyes!” she cooed, patting a completely mystified Castiel on his cheek.
Dean sputtered but couldn't manage to produce any words.
“Artie!” said Minnie. “Listen! It's Crowley's divorce.”
“Ewwww!” said Artemis, plonking back on a stool and scooping the little dog back onto the floor. “Jahi is such a bitch! Isn't she?”
“She is.”
“Soooo,” said Artemis, leaning towards Minnie. “You and Crowley....”
“Artie! Crowley is a demon!”
“Awww! But he has such a sexy voice! I loooooove British accents. Don't you?” she asked Sam.
“Uhhhh,” said Sam.
“Artie. I am not gonna chase after Crowley. And you of all people should know damn well why,” said Minnie.
“'Cause you like Bobby?” grinned Dean before Artemis could offer another opinion.
“WHO'S BOBBY?” gushed Artemis.
“Nobody!” grumbled Minnie. “Stop trying to fix me up, Artie! Look, we need a location spell. Something airtight!”
“What's the object?” asked Artemis, who was suddenly directing all her attentions towards an emery board and a hangnail.
“Jahi has one of her possessions in a demon hex box of some kind,” Sam explained. “Crowley wasn't sure what was in it. But he hid it from her, so well now he can't find it.”
“I knew he was concealing something! Did I tell you?” Artemis asked Minnie. “Can't trust those guys with the sexy accents.”
“We gotta get the box, Artie,” said Minnie.
“Eh, why not leave it lost? Serve the bitch right!” said Artemis.
“It’s a long story,” sighed Minnie.
“Ooo, I love long stories!” said Artemis.
“OK, OK,” sighed Minnie. “Jahi is in league with some kind of batshit archangel named Raguel.”
“Ewwww!” said Artemis. “I avoid archangels. No offense!” she told Castiel.
“None taken,” he told her.
“We think she’s drugged him,” Dean supplied. “You guys have some kind of angel catnip?”
“Yeah, I think maybe Jahi ran off with a bottle of my pure aniseed oil,” admitted Minnie. “Anyway, she gave this Raguel fellow Crowley’s lab coat-“
“Not the 1938 ‘Bride of the Demon!’” fussed Artemis.
“That’s the one. And get this: he’s now kidnapping angels and carving out their grace. It almost happened to Castiel!” said Minnie, pointing to Cas.
“Oh, you poor, poor angel!” cooed Artemis, who seemed to have forgotten her allergy to down.
“But the point is,” said Sam, “she’s evidently feeding the grace to other demons. It makes them … unstable.”
“She sent one against me. Fucking blew up!” Minnie told Artemis, miming and explosion with her hands.
“We think one of Jahi's demons took out an entire city in Russia,” added Sam.
“Oooo, how thrilling!” said Artemis.
“We’re thinking she’s going to move against locations where Crowley’s stuck his assets,” said Sam.
“Which is…?” asked Artemis. “Oh, not here I hope?”
“Just about everywhere, sweetie,” said Minnie.
“Oh no!” said Artemis, clutching again at her little dog, who yipped in protest.
“So, that’s why we need to find Jahi’s box,” said Minnie. “We need to have a bargaining chip.”
“But wasn't it Crowley's location spell that put Raguel on our scent?” asked Dean, casting a nervous glance at Castiel.
“Oh, honey!” sighed Artemis. “Don’t worry your pretty little hunter head over that. That’s why you should never send a demon to do a goddess' work!” She rose to her full height. “All right, let's get to the armory, and get my stuff.” And with that, she tottered off down the hall, the tiny dog nipping at her heels. Although it seemed to Dean physically impossibly for someone to actually walk in those shoes, on those long legs she was terrifically fast, and he found himself part jogging, stocking-footed, after her. He noted with annoyance that his socks had holes in both the big toes.
“She's got an armory?” he whispered to Sam.
“Guess so,” said Sam, who was looking around with interest. Funny, Dean thought he'd seen this house before on TV. One of those shows they advertised during Dr. Sexy: Real Bitchy Chicks of Beverly Hills, or something like that.
“I notice she doesn't have to take her shoes off!” groused Dean.
“It's her house.”
They finally arrived at a most impressive library: two full stories of shelves bursting with books. At least, it was impressive until Dean glanced at the titles: lots of self-help and new age crap. He shook his head in disgust, imagining Bobby’s reaction to all the waste.
“Just a minute, just a minute,” said Artemis, who, as her annoying dog yipped, started to reposition what looked like a random assortment of books from a shelf underneath the staircase. She stepped back, there was a small creak, and then a hidden door popped out.
“Oh, cool!” said Dean. A secret door? Artemis and Minnie and Cas had already slipped inside, and Sam hastened to follow them. The doorway was low enough both Artemis and Sam had to duck their heads. “Is there room inside for all of us in there?” asked Dean.
Sam popped his head back out, huge grin on his face. “Uh. Yeah. I think so.”
Dean entered. It was like a crazy cross between a Costco warehouse and the last scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark. He frowned and peeked back out the door, and then looked inside again. Artemis' house was monstrous, but there was no way it was this monstrous.
“Ingredients ingredients ingredients,” trilled Artemis, as she strode over to a section that resembled nothing so much as the spice bins at Whole Foods. She was suddenly holding an ancient book in her hand – there was no way she had grabbed it outside from among those crappy self-help books – and began throwing odds and ends into a little plastic shopping bin. “Witch's tongue: oh ewwww! The house is gonna smell after this one. Oh, could you grab me the powdered unicorn horn from up there, sweets?” she asked Castiel. He pointed up to a shelf near the ceiling and in an instant had a vial in his hands. “Oh, it's so nice to have an angel around when you have high shelves!” said Artemis as she patted his cheek and plonked the vial in her basket.
“You know what might be good, Artie?” asked Minnie.
“Mmmm?”
“Judging from the visitors she's been sending me, Jahi's got a pretty big posse of demons.”
“Oh, they always have minions,” sighed Artemis. “Minions minions minions.”
“Maybe the hunters could … borrow a few items while we're here?” asked Minnie, getting an enthusiastic nod from Dean.
“Oooo! That's a lovely idea!” said Artemis. “You know where it is. Take anything you like dears! You're my little hunters! I'll just keep my angel here, and we'll be done in a flash.”
Minnie inclined her head, and Sam and Dean followed her away.
“Her angel,” fumed Dean.
“Artie's a little … high strung,” said Minnie. “But she'll do a good job on the spell. And she's got a sweet little armory back here.”
But Minnie didn't have to elaborate. Dean turned a corner and thought he was going to have a weapons-gasm.
“Erk. Does your friend have a shopping cart?” asked Dean. “I'm gonna need one!”
“I can probably find a hand truck,” laughed Minnie. “Let me see.” She departed, and Dean occupied himself trying to find the perfect shotgun while Sam poked in the cold iron implements. For a while, the brothers lost themselves in the paraphernalia of demon battling 101.
“I think we're ready to go,” said Artie, who showed up a while later with Minnie and the handtruck. Castiel trailed in back of them, somewhere behind the pile of objects in the now incredibly heavy looking shopping basket, although he evinced no apparent strain at the weight.
“Can you give us another minute or two?” asked Dean, who was down on the floor half buried in firepower.
“Sure, love!” said Artemis. “I like this one myself, good stopping power,” she said, suddenly hefting a sawed off shotgun. “But my weapon's the bow, you know,” she sighed, placing it down on the floor again.
“Yeah, you should see this girl loose arrows!” said Minnie.
“Maybe later, I just had my nails done. We'll just go get started on the little spell.”
“We can make you some lunch, honey, you look starved!” Minnie told Castiel.
“As you probably know, angels do not require food,” came a voice from somewhere behind the pile of oddments in the shopping basket.
“No, sweetie, you're looking pale. And maybe we'll give you a little more treatment with the aniseed oil.”
“Oh, yes! That would be pleasant,” said Castiel, who suddenly turned and eagerly followed the goddesses out of the armory.
Dean shook his head. “That shit is like angel catnip,” he grumbled.
“Dean?” asked Sam, who had squatted down in order to be at eye level with his big brother.
“What!” snapped Dean. He then sighed, put down the rifle he had been cradling, and said more softly, “What, Sammy?”
“Look, Dean, don't take this the wrong way....”
“You're already making me take it the wrong way,” snapped Dean.
Sam ignored Dean and thumbed the edge of a cold iron knife. “So, the thing is, you know, nobody ever thought to send me my own angel from heaven.”
Dean glared.
“I dunno. You might wanna consider being less of a dick,” said Sam.
“OK, you want him? Why don't you take him? You two can go … pal around all day watching movies.”
“Dean....”
“He showed up, everything got … complicated!” said Dean, throwing up his hands in disgust.
“Everything was already complicated,” sighed Sam. “It's us, right?”
Dean shrugged and exhaled. Carefully laying out a selection of shotguns, and avoiding Sam's eyes, he said, “I'm gonna fuck it up, Sammy. Like I fuck up everything.”
“I doubt it.”
“That's reassuring.”
“Well, unless you're so afraid you're gonna fuck it up by accident that you fuck it up on purpose. Which you'd never do,” smirked Sam.
“OK, who's being a dick now?” asked Dean, regarding his grinning brother. “Let's get this haul out of here and see what the goddesses are doing with my fucking angel,” he urged.
Dean wheeled out the truck, feeling a little like he'd just visited Hunter Costco. As it turned out, once they exited the secret stash, the door automatically sealed itself up. They pushed on down the hallway of Artemis' elaborate mansion. Dean was unprepared for the sight they came upon in the kitchen.
Castiel, whose face was already flushed pink, turned a deeper shade of crimson when he saw Dean approach.
“They … uh … wanted to see.”
He had stripped to the waist, and somehow, once again extended the dark pair of wings he had grown after Crowley's enchantment.
“I thought you were allergic to down, Artie?” Minnie, who was over at the stove, baking and broiling and frying, demanded of her friend.
“Oh, but these are of such good quality,” said Artemis, who currently had her hands running through of some of Castiel's flight feathers. “They are so soft! You could not believe! Come here!” she urged, grabbing Sam's wrist and wrenching him over. “You will not believe.”
Sam put a hand down the wings, and suddenly his expression changed. “Wow! This is really soft!” Minnie wiped her hands on a dishtowel and, as Cas continued to look mortified, put a hand to the wings as well.
“Will you people please quit groping the angel!” said Dean.
“He said it would be OK,” protested Artemis, although Sam and Minnie, both looking a bit sheepish, took their hands off.
“I said I would take out the wings,” Castiel told Dean.
“Oh, hey, Artie, I think the vampire's tears are boiling over!” said Minnie.
“Oh, ewwww! Don't let it stain the stove!” shouted Artie as both goddesses ran to hunch over a burner.
“Dude, you didn't need to do this,” Dean whispered to Castiel.
“I did not wish to be impolite,” murmured Castiel, who looked up at him gratefully, wings drooping in misery. “They are assisting us!”
“You can...” said Dean, making a complicated motion that evidently meant folding wings away. Castiel shut his eyes, and then the wings somehow went back to wherever they had come from.
“That's actually pretty cool,” said Sam.
“I was afraid perhaps I could not make them go away,” Castiel told him. He seemed relieved. “Were we to fight, they are cumbersome.”
Dean was already handing him his shirts, which he donned while Minnie bustled over with a platter. “Have some sandwiches,” she said, and turned to fuss over something else bubbling on the stove.
“Is this falafel?” Sam mouthed around his sandwich. He sounded like he couldn't believe his good luck.
“I make my own tzatzaki!” Minnie called back from the stove.
“Completely vegetarian!' said Sam, waving the sandwich, little flecks of white sauce going here and there.
Dean rolled his eyes and tried to find some lamb, and even Castiel was picking at something.
“Oh, look at this!” said Artemis. Minnie, using a pair of oven mitts, brought a large bowl over to the bar area.
“That's not lemon rice soup is it?” wondered Dean. It smelled delicious.
“Ha! It's our location spell!” laughed Minnie. She pulled the ring of Jahi's hair from her pocket, and popped it into the bowl, where it fizzled and created a puff of black smoke.
Artemis raised a well plucked eyebrow and pulled on some Playtex living gloves. And then she started running her hands through the gooey stuff in the bowl, frowning in concentration.
“Can we drink the spell after she's done?” asked Dean.
“It's got hair in it!” said Sam. “Yuck!”
“Hey, after bloodworm stew…” said Dean.
“Have another gyros, honey,” said Minnie, who was herself jamming her mouth full of sandwich.
“Oh, are you eating lunch, Minerva?” Artemis asked Minnie as she trolled her hands through the bowl.
“Of course I'm eating lunch!” said Minnie.
“I'm on the San Antonio diet!” said Artemis.
“What the hell is that?” asked Minnie.
“Maybe you eat cowboys?” proposed Dean.
Minnie suddenly threw her head back and choked with laughter. “I'm down for that, honey!” she laughed.
“Shhhhh!” said Artemis.
“Are you getting something?” asked Sam, who wondered if he was the only one still paying attention.
Artemis suddenly withdrew her hands from the bowl, a look of horror on her face.
“Artie, what's wrong, honey?” asked Minnie.
“Oh, this is horrible!” said Artie, contact-blue eyes filled with horror.
“What's the matter?” asked Dean.
“Did it get destroyed?” worried Sam.
“No, it's worse!” wailed Artie. “It's in Barstow! Ewwwwww..... Central Cailfornia!”
Sam, Dean, and Castiel all looked at each other. To Dean's infinite amusement, it was Castiel who rolled his eyes.
The demon strode confidently into the Second Circle.
But not a single eye inside Fenriz’s strip club was on Crowley.
That's because almost every being in the place was staring at his lovely companion: she was an utterly gorgeous green-eyed redhead, almost a head taller than he, with a body clearly engineered by the same heavenly beings who had created Sophia Loren. And it was all poured into an astonishingly tight, slinky dress.
Even in the middle of a crowded strip club, she made quite a show.
Crowley didn't have to beckon to a waitress to let him in back this time. The door was swung wide open.
Fenriz sat alone at the great card table tonight, although a couple of his minions were milling around in the back of the room.
“You are bringing me back my item, I presume?” rumbled the deep-voiced demon. He looked at the woman, and stirred in his chair, the effect being a bit like an entire mountain quivering.
“I'm bringing you something better,” smirked Crowley.
Crowley's companion slipped off his arm and wiggled into Fenriz' ample lap.
“A woman? You mock me,” said Fenriz, although his gaze did linger on her. “I can have any woman.”
Crowley invited himself to sit, though on a chair, not a lap. “No, not Lilu here, though she is lovely.” Crowley motioned to Lilu. She reached two fingers into her ample bosom, and extracted something. It was a conical vial on a long chain, which she dangled in front of Fenriz, but then quickly handed over to Crowley.
Fenriz leaned closer, Lilu giggling on his lap. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked.
“Pure. Angelic. Grace,” said Crowley.
Fenriz sat back, seemingly impressed. “How the hell did you get something like that? You have to kill an angel, don't you?”
“Details,” tutted Crowley. “The really sad part is, I can't enjoy my little celestial steriods.”
“No?” asked Fenriz.
“No,” pouted Lilu, putting a long nailed hand down Fenriz’s chest.
“Why not?”
“My meatsuit’s in the wrong bloodline,” sighed Crowley, giving the vial a little spin on the end of the chain. The cuts in the glass picked up the light and sparkled.
“It takes a real man to contain such an essence,” purred Lilu. Fenriz took in a breath. It was getting a little difficult for him to think clearly.
“Pity, that,” said Crowley. “It will increase your powers, not by half, not even tenfold, but thousandfold. Well, so I hear.”
“That's the rumor,” Lilu breathed into Fenriz's ear.
“Crowley,” said Fenriz, ducking away from Lilu. “No more nonsense. Where is my compass?”
“Well, that is a tale,” said Crowley.
“A sad tale,” said Lilu, her eyes wide.
“So, the fellow who sold me the angelic grace wanted to do a trade. As part of the deal.”
“Part of the deal,” echoed Lilu.
“My compass?” fumed Fenriz.
“Well, technically my compass,” muttered Crowley. “But, little details. And we're all friends here. As you know, I am not a stupid man. I had thought to do the deal, take in this angel essence for myself, and then, as it were, persuade our friend to let me borrow back the compass.”
“Just borrow it,” said Lilu, squeezing Fenriz's thigh for emphasis.
“I must have that compass!” blustered Fenriz.
“If only there were a way,” sighed Crowley. “But he is one tough customer, this Raguel, and I can't think of a way.” Crowley gave the bottle of angel grace a little toss in the air and caught it.
“Raguel,” said Fenriz. “An angel?”
“Oh, yes, an angel. Full of grace,” said Crowley, giving the vial another toss. He drew back as Fenriz snatched at the vial.
“Give me the grace,” thundered Fenriz.
“Or … what exactly?” asked Crowley, holding it up, just out of his reach.
“Give me the vial and I may let you leave here alive,” said Fenriz.
Crowley looked at Lilu, who shrugged. He tossed the vial to Fenriz. “Sounds good to me!” he sang. “Oh,” he added, flipping a card to Fenriz. “Here is Raguel’s last known address. But take care, my good friend!
Lilu had undulated out of Fenriz's lap and walking with Crowley to the door.
Fenriz signaled to a henchman. “Kill them. Kill them both,” he growled, large thumb already popping the top off the vial of grace.
Crowley and Lilu walked with surprising rapidity to the back door and were out in the alley before the two henchmen caught up with them. Lilu deftly turned and smashed their heads together and left them unconscious and bleeding in the alley. Then she and Crowley disappeared to the gentle whisper of wing beats.
“Ewww, Barstow,” bitched Artemis as the party of three – an angel and two goddesses – alit in the Shurgard parking lot.
Or party of four, we should say, as Artemis' little yappy dog was there as well, nipping at her heels.
“This way,” said Castiel, striding across the hot parking lot.
“You didn't have to come along, Artie,” sighed Minnie.
“I gotta see what's in it!” squealed Artemis.
“You know where it is, Castiel?” asked Minnie, who was now hurrying after the quickly striding angel.
“Yes, I can sense the presence now,” said Castiel. He paused before a storage shed and cast out his hand. The rolling door glowed slightly, and then rolled up, seemingly of its own volition. The trio hurried inside, Cas flicking a hand to turn on the one bare lightbulb.
There was only one object in the large storage shed, a single, shoebox-sized wooden box marked by arcane lettering.
“Can you open it, honey?” Minnie asked Castiel, who was crouching down, regarding the box. Artemis' dog was taking a sniff.
“I feel confident that I can. These are trivial demon tricks.” He looked at the goddesses. “Shall we wait for Sam and Dean to arrive with the armaments?”
Minnie and Artemis looked at each other. “NO!” they both shouted.
“I mean, um,” said Minnie, glancing at Artemis. “Jahi could be on the move right now with those grace-hopped demons. Need to investigate this. Quick!” Artemis nodded enthusiastically.
Castiel squinted at the women, and then stood up and told them, “Please stand back.” The goddesses backed up a few feet, craning their necks to peer at the box. He closed his eyes and extended one arm, palm out flat.
The symbols on the box began send out an eerie glow, which then, all at once, retracted into the box. And then the box rattled and, before their eyes, seemed to unfold, sort of like one of the big robots in a Transformer movie, building and building until the wooden box had built itself into....
“A doorway?” asked Artemis. “Huh. First I've seen of this.” She and her dog walked all the way around it. It was, indeed, a wooden door set in a frame.
“Yeah, demons. What are you gonna do. Am I right?” asked Minnie.
Then Castiel, who must have been curious as well, approached the door and carefully turned the knob. He opened it, and stuck his head inside. Artemis' dog barreled in as well, and then romped out. The door seemed to open onto a room in some other dimension.
Castiel stepped back out, seemingly confused. “I do not understand this.” He stepped back through, and Minnie and Artemis followed him this time.
It looked like they were inside a really enormous walk in closet, something about the size of a grand ballroom.
The space was completely filled with shelves, all of them bearing women's shoes, hats, purses and accessories.
“I do not understand,” repeated Castiel, picking up a faux leopard-skin handbag.
“Oh, I do,” grinned Minnie, as Artemis whistled low. Minnie stepped back out of the doorway, and got out her cellular phone and held it to her ear.
“Bitch,” Minnie yelled into the phone. “We got your Blahniks and your Birkins. You better talk turkey, or we're torching the lot with holy fire.”
Fenriz looked around, completely confused. Was this a movie set? What the fuck had Crowley pulled on him this time?
He wiped the sweat dripping from his bald forehead.
“Get thee behind me, Satan!” came a voice.
“Thanks for the compliment,” rasped Fenriz, pulling uncomfortably at his collar. “I've heard you have my compass, angel.” It was one weird angel. He was dressed like a mad doctor in some kind of human movie.
“I will exorcise you, foul swine!” yelled Raguel, who was suddenly directly in front of Fenriz, hand on his head.
“I wouldn't try it, bitch,” said Fenriz, who grabbed the archangel's arm and sent him crashing back against the wall. His gold-flecked grin flashed.
“Fiend!” roared Raguel, leaping to his feet apparently unhurt, although the wall looked the worse for wear.
“Why do you keep it so damned hot in here?” grumbled Fenriz, ripping at his shirt to show a sweating, lavender-hued chest.
“Goats to my left!” screamed Raguel, pouncing once again on the demon. “And more goats to my right.”
“I'll goat you,” rumbled Fenriz, who started to throttle Raguel. They wrestled for a moment, and then a hand was on Fenriz's forehead, and the demon threw his head back, jaw open, belching black smoke.
There was a low rumbling noise....
Two beings stood side by side at a safe distance, taking in the now purple-hued sunset.
“You enjoyed that entirely too much,” said Crowley, as the figure at his side suddenly morphed into a much shorter, and most definitely much less female figure.
“Drag acts are a classic!” lectured Gabriel. “Besides, guys do stupid stuff when there's a chick around.”
“Perhaps you are right. But you treasured every moment, nonetheless, didn't you?” asked Crowley.
Gabriel just grinned. He looked at the white laboratory coat Crowley had carefully draped over his arm. “So, is that the coat? That’s why we had to check the dungeon?”
Crowley nodded sadly. “It has sustained some damage but....” He frowned. He put a hand in one of the pockets. “Oh, what do you know?” he said, holding up a compass.
“Wonder how the hell it got there?” asked Gabriel.
“No fucking clue.”
“I could restore that, you know,” Gabriel offered, fingers on the burnt hem of the lab coat. “A little angel magic here and there.”
“Thank you, no,” said Crowley, tugging away the white coat. “No offense, but I've had quite enough of angelic interference with my piece.”
“Well,” said Gabriel. “I guess we should go do some manly stuff now, huh?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, go smoke cigars, drink whiskey....”
“Sounds good...”
“See if Sam Winchester is taking a shower....”
“WHAT?” asked Crowley.
But Gabriel's phone went off in his pocket just then. He took a glance. “Ah, your ex is on the move,” he said, and then his hand was on Crowley's shoulder, and, with a wing beat, they were there no more.
“This is one sweet ride!” enthused Sam, stepping out of the Porsche Cayenne that had just pulled up in the storage facility parking lot. He tossed the keys to Artemis.
“Thanks, hon,” said the goddess, catching the keys.
“If we ever need to upgrade from the Impala…” noted Sam.
“We're never gonna upgrade from the Impala!” swore Dean, who had just popped out of the passenger seat. “So, our secret mission is to make the world safe for shoes?” he asked.
“Well,” said Castiel. “There were also handbags....”
“And hats! Don't forget the hats!” said Minnie.
Someone had opened the back of the SUV by now, and in an instant there were a lot of bodies, both human and supernatural, poking their heads in grabbing weaponry. Artemis had a bow and a quiver, and a great big grin on her face.
“How many demons do you think Jahi has?” asked Sam.
“I dunno. A lot?” said Minnie.
“How many in a lot?” asked Dean, who was mulling over the various guns.
“A lot,” said Minnie.
“Never fear!” came a voice from the top of the SUV. “Big Gabe is here!”
“Whoever you are, will you get off my car! You'll get footprints!” raged Artemis.
“Gabriel! Damn your feathery hide! Get me the fuck down from here!” agreed Bobby, who, along with Crowley, had appeared beside the angel.
“Hey, you're welcome! Again!” said Gabriel. But then the threesome was down in the parking lot. Minnie made some quick introductions.
“What happened with Raguel?” asked Sam.
“Both the movie-prop desecrating archangel and the demon formerly known as Fenriz have been turned into attractive smears of purple protoplasm,” sneered Crowley.
“And Crowley here even got his coat back!” laughed Gabriel. “Though it looks more like a burnt pizza.”
“It can be restored,” protested Crowley.
“Raguel took my overcoat,” said Castiel, who was cradling a shotgun, far off look in his eyes.
“Hey, man, we could get you another coat,” said Dean quietly.
Castiel looked at him. “I could … reconstitute it I suppose. I simply find it … oddly annoying.”
“It was your coat,” Dean nodded sympathetically. He pointed to Castiel. “You don't like your clothes?”
“I appreciate my clothes, Dean,” said Castiel. “I thank you for purchasing them.”
“They look like your clothes, Dean,” laughed Sam, who had been observing the conversation.
“Well...” said Dean. He blushed but convered it in a scowl. “They're functional!” He turned to Bobby. “So, what's news on the Jahi-pocalypse, Bobby?” he asked.
“I'm not gettin' reports of crazy EMF readings in any of the locations Crowley mentioned,” Bobby told everyone. “I'm hopin' that means she hasn't graced up any demons yet.”
“That's a distinct relief,” said Crowley.
“If you gave us the right list,” snapped Minnie.
“Minerva! Why the hell would I mislead you on something like this?” asked Crowley.
“Because you can,” she sniffed.
“Oh! Don't be like that!” said Crowley.
“You'd probably wanna wait until right before you were ready to do it,” said Gabriel. “Those grace-juiced demons are not long-lived puppies. Fenriz was one big, powerful mother, and I don't think he lasted ten minutes.”
“It is very unstable,” agreed Castiel.
“So is my ex,” grumbled Crowley.
“Yeah, she had to live with you,” said Minnie.
“Oh, now we're sympathetic to Jahi?” mocked Crowley. “The woman you referred to as that cross-eyed cunt?”
“Who hass called me zee cross-eyed cunt?” came a really lovely, foreign accented female voice.
Dean looked up in surprise. He was used to the whispering approach of angels. Jahi had snapped into the parking lot with no sound, only a whiff of sulfur.
As had her veritable legion of minions, who were now pretty much perched all over the damned place. The E-Z-Stor parking lot was now filled with black-eyed beasties. It was like an Alfred Hitchcock movie.
Dean steeled himself, and those in his small party (and it really seemed small, despite the presence of two goddesses, a fairly powerful demon and two angels) instinctively drew into a circle around the vehicle, weapons drawn.
“I called you a cross-eyed cunt, you cross-eyed cunt,” snapped Minnie.
“Minerva,” warned Crowley.
“Pffft. Leettle goddess,” mocked Jahi. There were some chicks, Dean had noticed, who always seemed to have guys with a wind machine somewhere in back of her, and Jahi was one. Somehow, her amazing coppery hair was blowing out just so. Dean could see why Crowley had kept a lock of it, even though that kind of thing was sort of old-fashioned and weak.
But Minerva was right about one thing: she'd overdone the mascara, and she did look a little cross-eyed.
“I could undo you weeth a snap of my feengers!” said Jahi, snapping said fingers.
“Oh, spare me,” bitched Minnie.
“Now, whar ess my box?” Jahi demanded, turning to Crowley.
“Shoes?” he asked. “I mean, really, Jahi? You were ready to destroy San Francisco over your fucking Blahniks?”
“Californeea ees tacky, as are zhee people who leeve here!” said Jahi.
“Watch it bitch,” Artemis, notching an arrow.
“Whar ess thee box? Eet ees mine! Return it to me!” Jahi told Crowley.
Dean glanced up nervously. There were so many demons hovering around the storage unit, they had actually darkened the sky.
Crowley pointed. The lockbox was now on the asphalt between them. Castiel had somehow re-folded the doorway to shoe heaven and reconstituted it as a wooden box.
Jahi took a step towards it.
“Ummm!” warned Crowley, who also snapped his fingers. Flames now danced off his fingertips. “Pre-soaked in holy oil.”
“First, we would like all of the angelic grace returned,” stated Castiel.
“Before we get annoyed,” added Gabriel, who was suddenly standing beside Castiel. Jahi gasped and took a step back. It only happened for an instant, but Dean could have sworn he saw the archangel stretch out not one but three pairs of really massive, dark wings.
Jahi, looked at Crowley, and actually seemed nervous. “He ees an archangel,” she said.
“Drinking buddy,” said Crowley. “It's quite the thing. Everybody's got an archangel pal nowadays, it seems. Oh, except maybe, you.”
“Ja, I have heard. Raguel was zee eediot,” grumbled Jahi.
“You drugged him,” said Castiel.
“Zhose Seraphim! Zhey are stupeed!”
“Well,” allowed Gabriel. “She's got a point.”
Jahi whistled. Many weapons cocked as a demon suddenly appeared at her side. But he simply produced a batch of glowing conical vials, all hanging on silver chains. Jahi grabbed the chains and held them out. They disappeared from her hand, and ended up clutched by Gabriel. He and Castiel counted them.
“Think they're all here,” said Gabriel.
Jahi was glaring at Crowley, who put a toe on the box and kicked it towards her. She nodded, and the demon at her side was suddenly holding the box.
“So. You got what you what's important,” grumbled Crowley. “Shoes.”
“Better my shoes zhan your beeg movie zhunk!”
“It isn't junk!” fumed Crowley. “Besides, I thought you liked my film pieces!”
“Zat is all you thought about! Nevair me! Always zee leetle sword from zee space movie...”
“It was a lightsaber, woman!” growled Crowley.
“Whoa, you got a lightsaber,” asked Dean.
“An original stunt lightsaber,” Crowley told him.
“Cool,” said Dean. He squinted. “Uh. Original trilogy, or prequels?”
“Well. Prequels,” admitted Crowley. “But it had the blade!”
“Pretty cool,” admitted Dean.
“You and your toys! You know notheen!” Jahi shouted at Crowley. “Notheen!”
Crowley stepped forward. “You should show some respect,” he told her.
“Respect? You? Oh, you amuse me, leetle man.”
Crowley reached back his hand to slap her. Everybody cringed, but Jahi grabbed onto his wrist just before he made contact.
They glared at each other.
And then they were madly making out. Yes, with tongue. And everything. This seemed to discomfit nearly everybody, including some very confused demon minions.
“Oh. I didn't need to see that,” said Sam, covering his eyes.
“What are you doing?” Dean asked Gabriel, who was holding up his cell phone.
“This is so going on YouTube, man,” said the archangel.
“As Artemis would say, ewwww....” said Dean.
“I don't understand,” whispered Castiel.
“And for that, dude, you should be grateful,” Dean told him.
Jahi had now actually hopped up and wrapped her legs around Crowley's waist. Crowley opened one eye, looked around, and then, with a whiff of sulfur, they were both gone.
There was a confused silence. The demons appeared to regard each other, and then, with many shrugs, they too disappeared.
“So. Was I right, or was I right?” asked Minnie.
“When you're right, you're right,” said Artemis. She slipped two fingers into her bra and pulled out a dollar bill, which she snapped and handed over to Minnie.
“And that was why, among many, many other good reasons, you don't get involved with your divorce clients,” said Minnie.
“That? That's just fucking weird,” said Dean.
“Heh. Women,” laughed Bobby.
“Men!” countered Minnie. They grinned at each other.
“OK. I did not expect that,” said Sam.
“Really?” laughed Gabriel. “Aw, Sammy, you're so adorable,” he said, giving a very unappreciative Sam a Bugs Bunny like smooch on the forehead.
“You should see what I've seen, kids,” said Minnie, who was already piling her weapons back into the trunk of Artemis’ Porsche SUV.
“I do not understand,” Castiel repeated. “I thought that they were going to obtain a divorce?”
“Yeeeeeeah!” said about five voices all at once.
“Uh. So, you think they're back together now, Minnie?” asked Dean. “Like, forever?”
“Them?” asked Minnie. “No fucking way. But I'd give them another ten years, maybe.”
The arsenal made its way back into the SUV, and Artemis shut the door. “That was cool!” said Artemis, who was tottering around giving everyone air kisses as her dog trailed her. “We’ve gotta do that again, Minnie!”
“Maybe we’ll go get manicures next time, honey,” said Minnie.
“Or that!” agreed Artie. “Bye!” And then she and her little dog hopped into the SUV and disappeared.
“I gotta jet as well, work backing up,” said Minnie, consulting her wristwatch.
“Thanks for your help,” said Dean.
Minnie nodded. And turned. But then she turned back. She held a business card in two fingers, which she extended towards Bobby. “Uh. Did you get a card, Bobby? In case you ever need anything, you know, appraised?” she asked him.
Bobby snatched the card and grinned.
“That’s my personal cell on the back,” she said, indicating the handwritten number.
“I’m thinking I’m in need of a lot of appraisals,” said Bobby.
Minnie smiled back, and disappeared.
“Wait wait wait!” said Dean. Everyone looked at him. “All of us … all of us … here, and Bobby gets the goddess’ phone number?”
Bobby smiled and slotted the card in his front pocket. “Idjits,” he said. “Hey, Gabe, you give me a lift back to where you found me?”
“Yeah, sure,” said Gabriel.
“Oh, uh, you know what,” said Sam, who suddenly elbowed Gabriel. “I was gonna, uh, go back to Bobby's too. To do, uh, important stuff.”
“You were? Oh yeah, you were! Sure,” said Gabriel, casting a glance at Dean and Cas. And then he grabbed Sam and Bobby and the three of them were gone to the soft rustle of angel wings.
Castiel frowned, looking very confused.
“Cas,” said Dean. “Is there some place, maybe more private, we could go to, you know, talk?” Dean only had time to blink. “Oh,” said Dean, looking around the familiar setting. “This motel again. You like it here, huh?”
“I already have a key,” said Castiel, holding it up and giving a faint smile.
Dean sat down heavily on the edge of one of the beds.
“Cas…” started Dean.
“Oh. You actually mean to talk,” said Cas, tilting his head.
“Well, that was the intention. I guess,” admitted Dean. Castiel crossed his arms and scowled down at Dean. “Look, don’t give me the angel of vengeance look. I already suck at this.”
“Yes. You do.”
Dean took a breath. This was going to be harder than he expected. “You’re not a mistake. It wasn’t a mistake.” He looked up, batting his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“You are attempting puppy dog eyes!” scolded Cas.
“Aw. Shit. Look, Cas.” Dean shook his head and started to pick at something invisible and yet terribly interesting on the knee of his jeans. “I think you’re probably my best friend. And I don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t have a whole lot of friends, and we’ve both fucked this up pretty badly before. Both of us! Sometimes, when people get together…. You saw what happened with Crowley and Jahi! They end up wanting to destroy the fucking universe! Over shoes! And a lab coat!”
Castiel was silent for a time, parsing Dean's words. “So we are … together?” he finally asked.
Dean looked up to a pair of expectant eyes. “Well … yes,” he admitted dropping his eyes again.
“Then I will attempt not to destroy the universe!” said Cas.
“OK. Well, that's good. I guess.” Dean felt in his jeans pocket. “Hey, look,” he said, holding up a small vial. “Minnie gave me some of her aniseed oil-“ Dean stopped. He quite suddenly had a lap full of angel. Cas was gripping him by the lapels, hungry look in his eyes.
“Is this a violation of your personal space, Dean?” asked Cas, who did not appear to care.
Dean leaned in for a kiss that ended up taking rather longer than he had expected. Not that he much minded. Lots better than talking. Much, much better than talking. “This is just perfect,” he muttered.
“The anise oil?” asked Castiel.
“Oh! Oh yeah,” said Dean, who had quite suddenly and completely forgotten the vial clutched in his hand. “She says just a drop in the bathtub-”
“Bathtub?” asked Cas.
“Yeah, in the bathtub. You could-“ But then with a soft flutter of wings, Dean was no longer sitting on the bed. And neither was Cas.
And then there was the sound of running water. And two loud splashes.
“CAS!” came a shout from the bathroom. “You take your clothes off first!”
