A Canticle for Dr. Sexy (Chapter 2 of 6)

[tikific]

Title: A Canticle for Dr. Sexy (Chapter 2 of 6)
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikific
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam, Benny, Chuck, Bobby, Missouri, Pamela, Lenore, Michael, Gabriel, Lucifer, Balthazar, Garth
Warnings: Cursing. Suicidal ideation.
Word Count: ~50,000
Summary: The Croatoan virus has brought down civilization as we know it. Dean Winchester, leader of a motley band of survivors, is searching for volume 25 the Video Safari limited edition box set of Dr. Sexy MD when he stumbles into Cas, an amnesiac grubbing for a can of beans at an abandoned Piggly Wiggly. Together with his brother, Sam, who may be a prophet of the Lord, and some friends they meet along the way, they embark on a cross-country road trip to find a cure for the virus and save humanity. But the journey takes our heroes straight into the middle of an angelic feud.
Notes: Set Post-Croatoan outbreak. The compound is based on the Greenbrier, a real resort. This one owes a huge debt to Zombieland, and also a to Vertigo comics.




Some years ago….

The doorbell rang once, twice, three times. Before the echo had died away, the insistent knocking began. “Sylvia! Are you in there, dammit? It’s Mac. Come on! I'm getting soaked!”

A woman padded downstairs and, after peering through the peep hole, threw open the door. It was an old house, so the glass in the window panel had taken on a melted look.

“Mac? What the fuck?” she said by way of greeting.

Mac pushed past Sylvia and stepped into the entryway, irritably shaking rainwater off his coat. “You haven’t answered my calls.”

“They’re on the machine,” Sylvia told him, pointing to the blinking red numbers on her answering machine. “What do you want?”

Mac removed his sodden raincoat and tossed it over the arm of one of the couches. “Pack your bags. You’re coming with me.”

Sylvia, who was small-ish, red-haired, and bespectacled, crossed her arms and planted her feet. Somehow, this made her look positively immovable. “Why?”

Mac huffed. He was tall and, now that he had shed his raincoat, appeared as if he had never outgrown a kind of adolescent gangliness. He frowned sternly at Sylvia. “There’s a problem with Madison’s scripts.”

Sylvia rolled her eyes. “Yeah?”

Mac looked back and forth, as if fearing he would be overheard in the deserted house. He leaned forward towards Sylvia. “Plagiarism,” he whispered.

“Really? You guys didn’t know?”

Mac straightened, his face a mask of wounded betrayal. “Why should we know?”

“Everybody knew,” Sylvia told him, shaking her head.

Mac looked shamefaced. “Anyway. She’s gone, and we can’t talk about her, and we can’t use any of her stuff. So, I’ve come to get you.”

“You plan to kidnap me and force me to write for television? Isn’t that illegal in most states and principalities?”

Mac’s face relaxed into a wide smile. “We’re going to Canada. Nobody gives a shit. Unless you’re a moose. Or a hockey player.”

“Well, I’m busy,” said Sylvia, pushing her eyeglasses up her nose.

“Doing what? Counting sleeping pills?”

Sylvia glared.

Mac plopped down on the couch beside his coat. “Sylvia, you’re not gonna OD. Not this week, anyway. What you’re gonna do, you’re gonna pack your shit, and we’re gonna head up to the production offices-“

“Why can’t I just write from here and fax you?”

“Not possible. Syl, we were already down a writer, we are up shit creek. I am up shit creek. This is my first gig as showrunner. If I don’t pull it out, it’s my ass in the fire.” He sat forward, pressing his hands together. “Syl, I’m asking you. I’m begging you.”

“You want me to write for Dr. Sexy, MD?”

“Come on! It’ll be just like when we were doing Mercy Hospital together. You and me.”

Sylvia stared at the floor.

“It’ll be fun,” Mac urged.

“No it won’t,” said Sylvia, who turned and began to march back upstairs.

“And bring your old manual typewriter! It’s cool!” Mac yelled after her.

Somewhere, a door slammed shut with a bang.



The present day….

Cas yawned and then took a big drag from his cigarette. He carried only a small pack and his sword. The Impala was parked in the middle of the resort’s front parking lot, along with an old beater of a pickup truck. He wondered how many people Dean was taking along on this expedition, realizing he hadn’t bothered to ask.

Dean and Sam emerged from the building, deep in conversation. As Sam headed to the pickup truck, Dean told Cas, “Let’s get going.”

Cas turned to the Impala. Benny, whom he hadn’t noticed before, had materialized, standing in front of the passenger side door, grinning down at him.

“Shotgun,” he drawled.

“You’re with Sam, Cas,” said Dean gruffly, as he climbed into the driver’s seat of the Impala and fired up the engine.

“Hey Cas,” called Sam, who had pushed out the old truck’s passenger side door for him. Cas shrugged and stubbed out his cigarette. Then, tossing his pack in the pickup bed, climbed in. “We got better music in here,” Sam assured him. “Oh, don’t do that!” he yelled at the Impala, which was already roaring off. “My brother is a douche.”

“I noticed,” muttered Cas.

“Fuck you, bitches!” came a fuzzy voice over the two-way radio.

“Dean, you know I gotta get Bobby’s truck warmed up,” said Sam, hitting the radio’s switch.

“Keep up!” yelled Dean. And then the Impala was out of sight.

“So much for a convoy,” said Sam, making sure the radio mike was switched off. He shifted into gear, and the truck was off with a rumble and a lurch.

“Who is Bobby, Sam?” asked Cas, curious as to why the owner hadn’t been invited along.

“Oh, he’s a good friend. Was a good friend. Now he’s….” Sam trailed off.

“Croat?” asked Cas.

“No, no, it’s kind of a long story,” said Sam, fumbling for a cassette in the glove compartment. “But I guess we got time, huh?” He smiled. Sam’s smile was warm and easy. They had come upon the first gate, and pulled up in back of the Impala. Dean was bleating the horn at what he apparently thought were slow moving guards backing the van that served as a gate out of the way.

“Dean and I, there was a lot of stuff with our dad, growing up. But that’s another long story. So Bobby was the one who raised us. I mean, in a lot of ways. Anyway, just before the Croat outbreak, he had a stroke, and was still in a chair, recovering. Left brain, so he didn’t have much movement in his contralateral side, and aphasia. He’d been independent all his life, so it frustrated the hell out of him.

“That’s too bad.”

“Well, his timing sucked, because by the time we got to him, his neighborhood had been overrun. And, guy in a wheelchair, you can imagine…”

Cas nodded.

“But then it gets worse. When we started living at the compound, Pamela, who was Bobby’s old friend (I think maybe they were an item, though I don’t know)…. Anyway, Dean was convinced that Bobby was still hanging around, I mean, somehow. Like, we got his truck and his flask and some other stuff of his, and weird, Twilight Zone-y stuff would happen. So Pamela convinced us to do a séance and talk to him. I don’t know what the hell he was supposed to tell us. Like, ‘Get a new Ouija board, dumbasses.’ That would be Bobby.” Sam grinned. They had passed the last barrier, and were out on the highway, Sam trying to keep up with the speeding Impala.

“And you managed to contact his spirit?” Cas prodded, as Sam now seemed lost in thought.

“Oh, yeah, better than that. We got a manifestation, which I understand is rare. So, he even looks corporeal. It’s pretty amazing, in a way.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Well, the problem is that nobody asked Bobby if he wanted to be a spirit, and he’s mad as hell at being dead, and being kept around as ectoplasm. But the problem is, Pamela had no frickin’ idea how to send him back. So, he’s just rattling around, getting more and more pissed off. Dean and Missouri finally managed to get him confined downstairs. And, he’s still a help to us on his good days.”

“But on his bad days…?”

Sam shivered. “Oh, hey Cas, I didn’t ask, but can you drive a stick?”

“Yes.”

“Good, then you wouldn’t mind trading off? It gets tiring as hell eating my brother’s dust all day,” said Sam, waving at the Impala up ahead.

“Why don’t you lead for a time?” asked Cas.

Sam burst out laughing. “Go in the lead? You don’t know my brother!”



Good as his word, after they stopped a few hours later, Sam tossed the keys to Cas and hopped in the passenger seat.

“Wait! You gonna let him drive the pickup?” Dean yelled at Sam.

“Try and keep up,” Cas told Dean. Cas tossed out his smoke, hopped up in the pickup’s driver’s seat, and peeled out.

“Shit, Benny!” hollered Dean. “Get your ass in my car.”

“I’m takin’ a leak!”

Sam soon dropped off to sleep, and, after he figured he'd gotten Dean sufficiently annoyed, Cas slowed and pulled over towards the side of the road to let the Impala once again take the lead.

He noticed the sky darkening. Sam roused at the sound of thunder. Sam stretched, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “Electrical storm?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” said Cas. “Can you work this thing?” he asked, pointing to the radio.

“Yeah.”

“Tell your brother to slow down.”

Sam hesitated, as if he were about to argue, but something in Cas’s tone made him switch on the radio. “Dean?”

“What?” came a shout over a blast of classic rock. “We’re listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd!” In the background, someone who sounded a lot like Benny was singing, “And this biiiiird you cannot chaaaange!”

“Slow down,” said Sam. “There’s something … not right about this storm.”

“WHAT?” came the voice on the radio.

“Dean,” said Cas softly. “Look up ahead.”

Sam’s head snapped up as they came over the crest of a small hill. As Cas eased the throttle back in the pickup, the Impala suddenly slalomed and squealed tires to avoid hitting the roadblock dead ahead.

Two cars were blocking the roadway. One of them was an old cop car. Three men were gathered there, two leaning against the cars, and a third, shorter man sitting up on the hood of the police car. They looked to be unarmed, though when Dean hopped out of the Impala, he was carrying a shotgun, as was Benny.

“What the hell?” demanded Dean as Sam hurried up to stand beside him.

“You’re under arrest,” chuckled the dark-skinned man, who pushed away from the car and came to stand across from Dean. “I’m certain this wouldn’t be the first time, would it, Dean?”

“How do you know my name?”

“That isn’t important.”

“Then get the fuck out of our way,” growled Dean.

“Certainly. You simply give over Sam, and you can be on your way.”

“What the hell?” asked Dean.

“Yes, pretty much,” grinned the man.

“Should I grab him, Raphael?” asked the tall man now standing next to him. He looked like an albino, with pale white hair and pinkish eyes.

“One moment, Chazaquiel,” said Raphael. “Let’s see if they’ll listen to reason.” The man sitting on the roof of the car remained silent.

“Whoever the hell you are, you’re not grabbing my brother,” said Dean.

“I was afraid of that,” sighed Raphael, who really didn’t seem terribly sorry at all. “Chazaquiel?”

The pale man strode forward, and was met by Benny, who cocked his gun to fire. Chazaquiel chuckled and, grabbing Benny’s gun, broke it in half and tossed it away.

Benny growled and seized the man, teeth at his throat. And then emitted a bloodcurdling scream, as suddenly steam roiled off his body, his skin turning an angry, boiled red. Benny collapsed, writhing, to the ground.

“Sam, get back!” shouted Dean, and Sam was running back towards the truck.

Raphael held his arms straight out to the side and then flicked his hands. What looked like a bolts of lightning flashed out from somewhere on his back: the effect was like two giant wings made of electricity. Two bolts arced towards the pickup truck. As Sam dove for cover by the roadside, the pickup was struck. It hopped up at least a foot in the air, and crashed down, its tires melted.

Dean dropped his rifle and swung his axe at Raphael, who cast out a hand. Dean’s axe handle suddenly glowed red, and he dropped it.

Chazaquiel grabbed Sam by the scruff of the neck, but was pushed away by Cas.

“What?” said Chazaquiel to Cas. “How the hell are you still alive?”

“What?” asked Cas.

Chazaquiel raised a hand towards Cas, as Raphael had done, but Cas had grabbed his sword and suddenly swept it through the air. As it swung, it created a shadow which hit Chazaquiel right in his midsection, driving him back. Raphael threw another lightning bold at Cas, but Cas somehow caught it on the blade and then whipped it back at Raphael, who dove out of the way.

Cas gripped the katana tightly and closed his eyes, and then sliced the air once again, this time casting a terrific shadow which hurtled towards the roadblock. The heavy cars toppled as if they were no more than a couple of children’s toys.

“Get in!” Dean yelled. He had grabbed a semi-conscious Benny and was pushing him into the back seat of his car. Cas hopped in alongside Benny, Sam leapt into the passenger seat, and then Dean floored the Impala, and they were off.




“How is he?” Dean asked some miles later.

In the back seat, Benny moaned. “I been better.”

“You think it’s OK to stop?” Dean asked, looking at Cas in the rear view mirror.

“I…. I don’t know,” said Cas, who sounded stunned.

Dean pulled off, and they helped Benny stumble out of the back seat. The vampire slumped down to sit on the ground, his back against the big black car. He looked like he had been electrocuted, with angry burns all over his body.

“You gonna be OK, man?” asked Dean.

“Man, talk about deep fried,” sighed Benny, looking sadly down. “Last time I try spicy food.”

“Cas, what the hell was that?” asked Dean.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know,” said Cas, who was looking at the ground.

“But you fought them!”

“I know.”

Dean was going to yell again, but Cas looked up, and genuinely looked stricken.

“So, what do we do about Benny?” asked Sam.

“Boys, I think I need to go to ground for a spell,” said Benny. “Repair myself.”

“You want us to leave you here?” asked Dean.

“Long as you don’t forget me again.”

“It was just that once!” protested Dean.

Cas heard the trunk opening and then felt a pickaxe being pressed into his hands. “Come on,” said Sam, who had slung a shovel over his own shoulder.

“Pick a nice shady spot!” said Benny.

“I’ll pick a spot where the ground isn’t hard,” Sam called back to him.

They eventually situated Benny in a grave site to his liking, Dean bitching at him the entire time he and Sam lowered him in that he’d gained too much weight and needed to lay off the pig’s blood. Cas leaned on his pick. The physical labor had kept his mind off what had happened, but now he found himself wondering again.

“So what are we doing?” asked Sam as Dean tamped down the soft earth to his satisfaction.

“We’re heading back to camp. Fast as we can.”

“You think that’s a good idea?”

“Well, let’s see, Sammy. You had a trippy Wizard of Oz meets Monty Python dream about a goth chick, versus some real guys who almost killed us, if only Cas hadn’t done something he has no idea how he did.”

“I don’t know, Dean,” muttered Sam.

“What don’t you know?” asked Dean as they headed back toward the car.

“You really think we’ll be safe if those guys show up at camp?”

“Yes. Next question.”

“Dean,” said Sam. “We gotta go do this. We gotta get to New York. Come on, man.”

“We're down to three men, one of whom I don't much trust,” said Dean, suddenly turning on Cas.

“He just saved our butts. Why wouldn't you trust him?” asked Sam.

“Because I don't think he trusts himself. Do you Cas?” Cas didn't reply, but fumbled for a cigarette.

“Hey, look,” said Sam. “Like you said, there's three of us. And you wanna go home, and I wanna go ahead....”

“So?” asked Dean.

Sam grinned and pointed to Cas. “What does Cas wanna do? He's the deciding vote.”

“What? Since when is this a democracy?” fumed Dean.

Cas stuffed the cigarette pack back in his coat, and took a long drag of his cigarette. He looked to Sam and to Dean, and then back to Sam.





Dean was just in a bitchy mood. Really, there was no other word for it.

He had the music cranked up too high, but neither Sam, who gazed out the window, nor Cas, who dozed in the back clutching his scabbard, said anything about it.

Cas scrambled up as the car abruptly turned off the road. “Where are we?” he said.

“Video Safari,” muttered Dean.

“Huh?” said Cas.

“We're making a stop,” said Dean. “I still need volume 17, 18, 20 and 25!” Cas shot a confused glance at Sam as they pulled into the ruined mall parking lot. Sam gestured for Cas to keep a lid on it.

The car screeched to a halt in the parking lot near the store. “I'm goin' in,” announced Dean, grabbing his weapons from the floor.

“We'll, uh, keep watch,” said Sam. But Dean was already out of the car and stalking towards a Video Safari store.

Cas looked questioningly at Sam, who leaned against the Impala. “Smoke 'em if you've got 'em,” Sam jokingly told Cas.

Cas reached a hand in his jacket pocket, fumbling for his cigarette pack. “I don't understand,” he said.

Sam grinned and tightened his grip on his shovel. “Dean is totally obsessed with this really bad TV show, Dr. Sexy, MD. I mean, he won't actually admit he's obsessed with it, but he is. And Video Safari had this limited edition set of all the DVDs. But what with the Croatoan thing and being broke all the time, Dean never got them all, so he's still missing a few. Including the last one, number 25.”

“So, he doesn't know how it ends?”

“Yeah, he never even found out how it ends! Bummer, huh?”

“Yes,” said Cas, pulling out his crumpled cigarette packet. “That would be frustrating.”

“So now every time we pass a Video Safari, we gotta pull in and toss it for Dr. Sexy videos. It's like a tradition. Or something.”

“So Dean has a way of viewing these DVDs?”

Sam rolled his eyes and looked long-suffering. “Yeah. What he's started doing recently is every time he gets a new volume, we crank up the generator and have a viewing party. Where we have to watch every single episode. In order.”

Sam and Cas stared at each other for a moment. Cas was digging for a book of matches, but then he froze.

“Get your brother,” said Cas.

“What?” asked Sam.

“Now.”

It may have been the look on Cas's face, but Sam bolted for the store.

Placing the unlit cigarette carefully behind an ear, Cas strode a few feet after him, drawing his sword. Keep a path clear to the car, he told himself. And then there it was, shuffling around the corner of the store. How had they known? Maybe they had heard the car come up, and were attracted by the engine noise. He hoped the group wasn't too big, and wondered why they always seemed to flock into groups.

He was lost in thought as he beheaded the first one with a clean, swift stroke. The katana's edge was deadly. He tamped down his fear, thinking only of form. Take this one down. Disable that one and then turn to strike another. Feel the blade as it slices. Become one with it.

Meanwhile, a small part of his brain had begun whispering, too many. Too many!

The sound of two sets of running footsteps, and then Dean had mowed down two with his axe. Sam had grabbed a shovel from the trunk and was using it to smash skulls. But it was still too many. Where the hell had they all come from?

“Cas, why don't you do your thing?” Dean hollered.

“What thing?”

“The shadow thing! Like you did at the roadblock.”

“I.... I don't know how I did that.”

“So, remember!” shouted Dean, swinging his axe.

Suddenly, Sam hit the ground, covering his ears. “Sam!” Dean yelled, but then he too was cowering on the ground. Cas leapt over him, covering him as best he could with his long overcoat.

And then there was quiet.

The three men scrambled to their feet. The Croats, not so much: the entire pack was down, and all of them remained motionless.

“Are they.... Are they dead?” asked Sam.

“Your question presupposes they were alive to begin with,” said Cas, toeing at a motionless Croat. He hunkered down beside it. It was staring blankly at the sky. It had blood, already crusting, coming out of its ears.

“Who the hell is that?” asked Sam, pointing to the man who was now sitting on top of the Impala.

“Oh for- Get your ass off my car!” shouted Dean.

“Not gonna say thanks?” laughed the man, swinging his legs.

“Dean,” said Sam, who had grabbed his brother, holding him back. “I think that’s one of the guys from the roadblock.”

But the short man wasn’t looking at Sam or Dean. Instead, his eyes were fixed on Cas.

“Castiel? Is that you?”

Cas had his sword out again. “Stay back,” he said.

“Hey! It’s me! What’s the deal?” asked the short man, who hopped off the car and approached Cas.

“Get outta here, or we’ll have Cas gank you like he did your buddies!” warned Dean.

“Castiel? Come on, bro. It’s me, Gabriel,” said the short man, ignoring Cas’s sword.

“Cas, who is this?” asked Sam.

“I don’t know. I don’t know you,” said Cas, staring at Gabriel.

Gabriel emitted a long sigh. “You were with us, kid. And then I guess you didn’t wanna choose sides, so you skedaddled. Did you lose some of your marbles along the way?” He reached out two fingers towards Cas. Cas first shied away, but then, after staring intently at Gabriel, lowered his sword, and allowed the other man to touch his forehead.

Cas shuddered and blinked. “Gabriel?” he asked.

“Duuuuh!” said Gabriel. “Well, we got that taken care of. Did you do this to yourself? I can't see all the way into your soul.”

“So, Cas, you wanna share with the rest of the class?” asked Dean.

“This is my brother, Gabriel,” said Cas, who still looked very confused.

“Uh-huh,” said Dean. “And your family goes around kidnapping people? What the hell are you, Tiny Tony Soprano?”

“No no no no no,” said Gabriel. “I didn't want any part in that stuff. It's just.... How much has Castiel told you about us?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Oh, well that's flattering,” huffed Gabriel, glaring at Cas.

“Uh, I don't think he remembers, Gabriel,” said Sam.

“Whoa, how's the weather up there?” asked Gabriel, who seemed to have suddenly become aware of Sam.

Sam groaned. “Yeah, I've never heard that one before.”

“To take it from the top, when we first came here, we were in one big group. We all scattered, and Cas came to hang with me. Because I’m awesome. Then later Lucifer and Michael made us choose sides, so I ended up following Lucifer because Michael is such a douche. But the trouble is, Lucifer is a douche too.” Gabriel was ticking off douches on his fingers.

“Lucifer,” said Cas, as if he were remembering something. “You stayed with Lucifer.”

“But not anymore!” Gabriel sidled up to Cas and placed an arm around his shoulders. Cas tensed. “I didn't wanna choose sides either! So, from now on I'm hanging with you guys.”

“Can we trust this guy, Cas?” asked Dean.

“Hey, I helped you with the anger management cases, didn't I?” asked Gabe, pointing around to the dead Croats.

“Wait,” said Sam. “You said when you came here? From where?” Gabriel pointed up. Sam and Dean looked confused. “Canada?” asked Dean.

Gabe turned to Cas again. “You really don't remember anything, do you, kid? We came from heaven.” Sam and Dean remained silent. “We're angels! Or, we were at least.” He shrugged.

“No,” said Cas, wrenching himself away from Gabriel.

“No, what?” asked Dean. “No, you're not an angel?”

“You me asked whether you could trust Gabriel,” said Cas, staring at his brother. “No. You can't.”

“Uh, why not?” asked Sam.

“He's an angel,” said Cas, as if that settled it.

“See? That's why I'm perfectly trustworthy,” said Gabe. “You know you can't trust me. QED.”

Dean waved his hands. “No. Wait. Look. So, these guys we met back there, the ones at the roadblock, they were angels?”

“Yes,” said Gabriel. “They're angels, I'm an angel, he's an angel,” he said, trying and failing to hug Cas once again. “All angels.”

“Do you to the electrocution thing?” asked Dean, wiggling his hands in what must have been an imitation of electrical flow.

“No, my power is sonic. And Cas does the creepy shadow thing.” He frowned at Cas. “Hey, don't look at me like that. Your power is creepy.”

“What do they want with my brother?” asked Dean.

Gabriel rolled his eyes and held out his hands. “Oh, what does Lucifer ever want? He needs to stop and smell the roses, you ask me.”

“Focus, Gabriel,” said Dean, who was now looming over him. “Why my brother?”

“Well, for one thing, Sam's a prophet. Always good to have one on your side. In case you need to know, you know, the future. Are you guys living sheltered lives or something? I feel like I should have made an instructional video.”

“Great. Just great,” sighed Dean.

“And another reason to take me along. If they fuck with you again, you got the two of us to hold 'em off.”

“How do I know you won't just fly off with him? You're a frickin' angel,” said Dean, flapping his hands in an imitation of angel flight.

“Well, Cas and I, we're sort of grounded.”

“How so?” asked Sam.

“We had our wings clipped. I guess Daddy was pissed at us or something. I never know what’s up with the old man. Anyway, we can fight, but we can’t fly.”

Sam and Dean shared a glance. Sam pointed upwards and addressed Gabriel. “Why was he pissed?”

“Oh, you know how he is,” sighed Gabriel.

“Uh, no. We don’t,” Dean told him.

Gabriel studied his fingernails. “Well, Luci and Mike can never get along.”

“But you said they’re still fighting,” said Sam.

“Well, yeah….”

“I think I know why I left,” said Cas.

“You remembered?” Dean asked him.

“No. But it sounds like we’re … a bunch of dicks.”

“Hey, yeah, pretty much,” grinned Gabriel brightly.

Sam frowned at Dean. “So what do we do?”

“Why does everybody always assume I have the answers?” raved Dean, throwing his hands in the air. He sighed and glared at Gabriel. “All right, all right. We’re just outside New York City limits, and no doubt we’re safer with four than with three. You can hop a ride.” Gabriel grinned. “But the usual rules! Driver picks the music, passengers shut their cake holes.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” said Gabriel, slapping an unappreciative Cas on the back.

“It is,” said Sam, who was hopping into the passenger seat.




Unsurprisingly, New York City was a wasteland. Thankfully, though, they had encountered few Croats once they crossed the bridge across the Hudson.

“You got the address?” asked Dean as Sam laid a map out on his knees.

Cas repeated it. “It was on the menu,” he added.

“Lucky someone was paying attention,” said Dean.

“Oh yeah? So how much were the pepperoni pizzas?” asked Sam.

“Regular or extra large?” asked Cas, which earned a smirk from Dean.

The car slowed near a cafe. Although the power had been out throughout the city, big blinking neon lights read, Mia Bella Morte.

“Is this it?” asked Dean.

Sam shook his head. “Well, given that it's the only place open in all of Manhattan, Dean? I'd say that's a good guess.”

“Yes, this is it,” said Cas definitively. He was out of the car almost before it had come to a halt, but then stood waiting outside the low iron fence that bordered the sidewalk, looking up.

“Well, at least we don't need to worry about parking,” said Dean, cranking the emergency brake and stepping out of the car. “Whoa! Hello!” he added, as a cute, dark-haired girl dressed all in black emerged from the entrance and stood before them, menus in hand.

“Uh, Winchester, table for four?” Sam asked her.

“Four?” she asked, casting a skeptical glance at Cas and Gabriel. “I have only two down on the reservation.”

“Tessa! What is it?” came a dark, cultured voice from inside the restaurant.

“They brought along some extras, Father,” said Tessa, gesturing to the angels.

“Well, let me see them,” said the pale, gaunt man who had just come to the door. “Ah, the Winchesters,” he said, brightening (if such a man could be said to brighten) at the sight of Sam and Dean. “I am Death.” He extended a graceful hand and shook with both the brother in turn. Dean noticed that Death had a firm handshake, although he did check his own hand for injury afterwards, carefully counting the fingers.

“We have been expecting you. But not so much those two,” Death added, pointing with his sliver-tipped cane. “Do I know you, gentlemen?”

“I'm Gabriel, and this is my brother, Castiel,” blustered Gabriel. “And you damn well should know us. You and my Dad were besties.”

“Is that so?” said Death. “Gabriel. Hmmm. You will excuse me, for I am very old, so I have a lot of memories to search. He turned to Cas. “And you were....”

“Castiel,” said Cas quietly.

“Hmm. Ah, yes, Castiel. The dark one.” He looked back at Gabriel. “And, Gabriel, I do remember Him speaking of you.”

“Oh, what did he say?”

“You were loud.”

“Oh. Well, that's something,” grinned Gabriel.

Death gave them one last apprising look. “Tessa,” he said, “please bring four menus.” And then he gestured, and Sam, Dean, Cas and Gabriel proceeded inside.

“I hope you understand this is a no smoking environment,” Death told Cas, who actually had not brought up the subject. “I realize the attraction of a cigarette following a fine meal, but I have fire codes, and city regulations. Everyone is so health conscious these days.”

“I understand,” said Cas, who was looking nervously around the restaurant. It appeared to be just what it seemed, a small Italian cafe. They seated themselves around a table draped with a red checked tablecloth (the pattern looked very like the shirt Sam was wearing that day) and with a little vase of flowers in the middle. Tessa distributed menus.

“How's the pizza?” asked Dean while Death was busily sniffing at the wine Tessa had just poured him.

“We have the best pizza in Manhattan,” Death assured him.

“And the worst,” put in Sam. He looked up, “Uh, no offense.”

“No, that joke is never tiresome,” smiled Death. He nodded at the wine, and Tessa filled all their glasses. Dean winked at her, but she rolled her eyes and left.

Dean ended up ordering a meat lover's special, and Sam a vegetarian pizza with goat cheese. Gabriel asked for a custom garlic and spicy sausage combo, and Sam said he'd refuse to share the car with him, though Gabriel reasoned it would keep vampires away from them.

“What about you, Cas?” Dean asked when the angel was not taking Tessa's hints to place an order.

“I do not find that I am hungry, Dean,” said Cas, sipping nervously at his wine.

“Aw, come on! You've been eating us out of house and home.”

“I shouldn't think it wise to drink wine on an empty stomach,” counseled Death. “Shall I order for you?”

“Uh, yes. Please,” said Cas.

“He shall have the traditional,” Death told Tessa. “It is an especial favorite of mine, nothing but mozzarella and our special marinara. Utter simplicity.” He put his fingers to his lips and kissed them. Tessa gathered the menus and disappeared, and Dean suddenly wondered who was back there cooking. There were obviously no other customers in the restaurant. “Now, how was your journey here?” Death inquired, raising his glass.

While Cas moodily sipped his wine, Sam, Dean and Gabriel thereupon took up the time waiting for the pizzas in a gripping narrative of their adventures on the road. “So the angels want Sam for their own,” Death commented as Tessa at long last distributed their orders.

“I don't get it though,” said Sam. “I mean, I really can't control it. I can't tell when I'm gonna have one of my dreams, and then half the time I don't remember what it was about.”

“They'd probably just use a charm and stick you in some kind of permanent sleep state,” Gabriel explained as he sprinkled altogether too much parmesan and red pepper on his slice.

“Dude! Don't bogart the pepper,” Dean scolded.

Sam looked at Gabriel, concern spreading on his face. “Well, that's … reassuring.”

“We won't let them do that, Sam,” Cas assured him.

“Are angels just generally dicks?” asked Sam, looking dubious.

“Yeah, pretty much,” said Gabriel, cramming what looked like an entire slice into his mouth.

“Now, I insist you try some of that delicious pizza, Castiel,” said Death. “Shan't let it go to waste, not with people out there fighting over a dented can of Bush's Baked Beans.”

Cas stared wide-eyed at Death, and then obediently picked up a knife and fork and delicately sawed off the very tip of his pizza, ignoring Dean's taunts of eating it “wrong.” He chewed, and then his expression changed to thoughtfulness. “This is quite good,” he said.

“Traditional!” said Death approvingly.

“Uh, Death, I don't wanna be rude...” said Sam.

“But you would like to know why I have called you here,” smiled Death. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands. “You might say that this universe has gone a bit off the deep end. At least as far as I'm concerned. Now, your world has always had more than its share of abominations, the undead and the like. But nothing we could not cope with on a strictly cas-by-case basis. However, this Croatoan virus situation has made everything deteriorate, and with a rapidity I myself find surprising. And unacceptable. My children can no longer keep the books in order, so to speak: who is alive, and who is not? Those creatures, they are neither truly dead, nor can they be said to number amongst the living. They are between worlds. It has taken its toll on my dear ones, and I am afraid it will take its toll on this creation as well.”

“Whoa, that's pretty heavy, Death,” said Sam.

“You're telling me the Croats are not only annoying motherfuckers, that they're also threatening....” Dean, having no words, simply swept his arm around.

“What lives must die. That is the essence of life,” said Cas around a mouthful traditional pizza. He must have decided that he liked it, as he was reaching for another slice.

“The imbalance is cracking the fabric of reality,” said Death, Tessa now standing beside him with dessert menus. “My reapers cannot take their souls, but neither are the poor wretches fully alive.”

“So, uh, why'd you call on us, exactly?” asked Dean. “I mean, Gabe says you know his Dad, I understand He's pretty high up.”

“Uhhhh,” said Gabe, stifling a very garlicky burp as Sam cringed out of the way. “Daddy hasn't been around much lately. He sort of ducked out for a pack of smokes a few millennia ago....”

“What?” said both Sam and Dean. Cas didn’t say anything, but his eyes focused intently on Gabriel.

“Unfortunately, He does not currently factor into the equation,” said Death. “It is fortunate, therefore, that we have you two, and that you seem to have a knack for improvisation.”

“Wait, the fate of the universe is up to … us?” asked Sam.

“We’re fucked,” said Dean.

Gabriel made a sputtering and crashing noise, like an airplane going down and Dean glared at him.

“Look, Death,” said Dean, waving a fork at Gabriel. “Not that I’m shirking, but you got a pack of angels around, and they’ve obviously got nothing better to do.” Gabriel returned the glare. “Why don’t you call on them instead?”

“You know little of angels,” said Death, his lips tracing a grim smile. “They tend to have their own agenda. Now, would you like to hear what would be required of you?”

“Oh, gelato!” Gabriel told Tessa. “And the tiramisu. And the spumoni.”

“Gabe, don’t be a pig,” scolded Dean.

Cas was finishing another slice of pizza. “He always had a sweet tooth.” Then he started, realizing what he had said. “You have a sweet tooth,” he told Gabriel.

Gabriel halted his perusal of the dessert menu. “Yeah? You remembered? And what else?”

“And … your humor annoys Raphael. And you’re generally an ass.”

“You remember!” yelped Gabriel, who sprang over to embrace Cas with sufficient force that he knocked his chair backwards onto the floor with a slam. Sam sprang up to help untangle the angelic mess.

“Angels are fucking weird,” Dean grumped.

“You are beginning to comprehend the essence of angels,” Death told him. “Now, on to my request to you. As you probably know, or have guessed, the Croatoan virus is not natural, but was manufactured.”

“I knew it!” said Sam. In his excitement, he nearly dropped Gabriel, whom he had been helping up.

“And I thought Sammy was just paranoid,” said Dean.

“Was it the government? It was the government, right?” Sam persisted.

“It doesn’t matter,” Death told him. “What is important for your purposes is that there was also an antidote.”

Dean put his hands through his hair. “Please don’t tell me you want us to go around and immunize every single Croat.”

“No, this was a biological agent. It has only to be released into the environment, and the rest will happen automatically. It was in the process of being manufactured by a small biotech company in Seattle.”

“Seattle?” said Cas, almost as if he were talking to himself.

Dean leaned over towards him. “What’s the matter, dude? Don’t like grunge?”

“I need to remember something about Seattle….”

“So, let’s say we agree to this,” Dean told Death. “There is something you can do for us.”

“A bargain?” said Death, who appeared offended. “Perhaps you have me mistaken for some shabby little crossroads demon.”

“I have a friend, Bobby….”

“Ah, yes.” Death folded his arms and scowled. “He gave my reaper a mild concussion.”

“Did he? Heh. Well, that’s Bobby. And I don’t think he’d be so resistant if you visited him nowadays.”

“You would like your friend escorted to the other side? I suppose this would be acceptable,” said Death. “Oh, look!” he said as Tessa brought in dessert plates. “You really must all try the tiramisu.”




Cas had excused himself to go out for a smoke rather than watch Gabriel stuff his face with sugary treats.

His brother, Gabriel.

The ragged ends of memories had started to return to him, stitching themselves back together. And with them came a rising sense of dread. Had he locked it all off himself? Perhaps it had been for the best.

Cas leaned against the corner and regarded the thin trail of smoke winding off his cigarette.

He heard Dean’s footsteps before he saw him, peeking around the corner, and then ambling over, arm outstretched, motioning for the cigarette.

“Are you planning to walk away with my smoke again?” asked Cas disagreeably.

“Come on, Cas. Don’t bogart. I shared my PB&J.”

“You are going to remind me of that for the rest of my life,” sighed Cas, handing over the smoke.

“Sounds like a plan. Whoa, dude, lucky you didn’t burn your fingers,” said Dean, regarding the long trail of ash. Dean leaned against the wall beside Cas, affectionately bumping his shoulder.

“You know I’m an angel.”

“Yeah. So?”

“Aren’t you … dubious?”

“You know, I would have been. Before all this. My dad was like that, and I think he wanted us to be the same way. But that was before I had a vampire save my life, before I had to get between a pack of werewolves and a witch’s coven over who gets the laundry room on a full moon.” Dean turned towards Cas, proffering the cigarette. “Aren’t you happier? Knowing what you are, I mean?”

“No.”

“No?”

“My brother is correct. Angels are malevolent entities.” He aimed his eyes up at Dean. “I think you should be terrified.”

“Maybe I am,” smiled Dean, leaning closer.

Cas stared at him in confusion. “Is it possible that you are confusing acceptance with simple lust?”

“I’d say it’s probable,” said Dean, and the smile widened to a grin. He reached a hand to touch Cas’s face.

“Maybe you were wise to be wary of me,” Cas muttered.

“I’ve never been accused of being wise.”

“Hey, Dean!” came Sam’s voice. Both of them looked over at Sam. “We got one last tip from Death.”

Dean reluctantly dropped his hand from Cas's face. “Yeah. What’s that?”

“Video Safari. The flagship. It’s thataway.”

Dean suddenly grabbed Cas by the upper arms. “Did you hear? Video Safari!” he said, giving him a shake. “Come on, everybody fall the fuck out!” he raved, striding back towards the car.

Cas started to follow Dean, but found himself blocked by Gabriel, who was spooning up a scoop of pistachio gelato out of a waffle cone. “What’s up with that?”

“Oh, I didn’t see you, Gabriel. Up with what?”

Gabriel inclined his head in the direction Dean had just disappeared to. “You and the human.”

“Nothing,” said Cas. “Yet,” he added. He moved to go around Gabriel. Gabriel sidestepped to block Cas again.

“What is it, Gabriel?”

“You shouldn’t smoke. It’ll stunt your growth.”

“Ice cream will clog your arteries,” Cas retorted, blowing smoke into Gabriel’s face. He darted around Gabriel to join the others.




“So, here's what we'll do,” said Dean, setting down a plastic Video Safari bag and unfolding the map on the Impala's hood. “I-85 up to Albany, and the I-90 is a straight shot to Seattle.”

“When are you gonna get Benny?” asked Sam.

“I'm not.”

“OK, he's not gonna be a happy bloodsucker if you leave him again.”

“It was just that once! And besides, you'll go get him.”

Sam looked insulted. “What, me?”

“Yeah. While we're here, we'll just jack a suitable vehicle, and then you and Cas head back for Benny.”

“And what do I do?” asked Gabriel, who had liberated a pack of only somewhat stale licorice whips from the Video Safari racks.

“I dunno. Die of sugar poisoning, probably,” grumbled Dean, watching the angel attempt to masticate the stiff candy.

“Dean, you are not going to Seattle alone,” said Sam.

“Well, I can't very well take you along. You're angel bait.”

Sam glared. “Dean, I am absolutely going with you.”

“I think Sam is right, Dean,” said Cas. “A single person would encounter many hazards.”

“See?” taunted Sam. “You're outvoted, dude. Again.”

“This is not a democracy!”

“Do I get a vote?” asked Gabriel.

“NO!” chorused Sam, Dean and Cas.

“Hey, just asking.”

After some arguments and a furious round of rock-paper-scissors, Dean found himself in the Impala beside his brother, Cas in the back.

They had jacked a truck after all, but this was gifted to Gabriel, with strict instructions to take it and go dig up Benny. They had actually jacked two trucks, after Gabriel finally admitted that he was not capable of driving a stick shift.

“Is the I-90 highway open all the way to the Pacific?” inquired Cas as he studied the map.

“Aren’t you supposed to know stuff like that?” snapped Dean.

“Up until a few days ago, I didn’t even know my true name,” Cas told him.

“He’s got a point,” said Sam.

“What are you idjits up to now?”

Dean nearly crashed the car when Bobby’s spirit suddenly appeared sitting in the back seat. “Bobby! Who the hell let you out?” Dean demanded.

“Hmpf,” said Bobby. “Pamela is getting too big for her own britches. Now what’s this I hear about you bartering away my damn soul?”

Dean threw his hands up. “I thought you wanted to be at peace?”

“You could have thought to ask me!”

“You are Bobby?” asked Castiel mildly, regarding the ghost sitting next to him with great curiosity.

Bobby’s spirit rounded on Cas. “Hey, don’t poke. Wait! You’re a damned angel? Dean, you got a damn angel in your car!”

Cas smiled serenely. “I am an angel, true. I am not certain about the first part.”

“Bobby, maybe you ought to get back to the camp,” Sam suggested.

“Fuck that noise,” the spirit grumbled.

“I could banish him, if you would like,” smiled Cas, holding a threatening hand towards Bobby’s forehead.

Bobby cringed back from Cas. “What? No! Dean!”

“Actually, wait up, Cas,” Dean told him. “I’ve got an assignment for you Bobby, since you’re roaming free. We don’t know about conditions on I-90. You wanna spook ahead and tell us what you see?”

“I-90?” huffed Bobby. “That’s three thousand miles.” Cas, grinning, stretched out a smiting hand towards Bobby again. “OK, I’ll go I’ll go I’ll go.” And with that, Bobby disappeared.

“Cas, could you really banish ghosts like that?” asked Sam.

“I have absolutely no idea, Dean,” said Cas, regarding his own fingers.

“Wait, you can’t-“ Dean began.

“But Bobby wasn’t likely to know that,” smiled Cas. Sam snickered.

“OK, we gotta think about foraging, since we didn’t bring along enough supplies,” Dean told them. “I figure with Sam and me switching off driving, it’ll take three days…”

“Wait, you mean, you, me and Cas switch off driving,” Sam interjected.

Dean narrowed his eyes and cast a glance into the rear view mirror. “You want an angel to drive Baby?” He sounded scandalized.

Cas looked scandalized. “That is just plain prejudiced.”

Sam crossed his arms. “He drove the truck, Dean.”

“Yeah. He drives way too fast.”

“Pot, kettle, black, Dean,” snarked Cas.

“Maybe we should stop for that, uh, foraging now,” Sam suggested.

“Yes. I need a smoke,” grumbled Cas.





An angel sat atop the Impala, seething and smoking a Marlboro Menthol.

Dean ambled over and, letting his axe drop to the ground, motioned for the cigarette.

“Perhaps I do not share with humans,” rumbled Cas.

“Aw, c’mon Cas. You know I was just joking around.”

“No you weren’t.”

“Yeah, I guess I wasn’t. But this is the car!” He leaned his body back against the side of the Impala. “Huh. Our first fight.”

“What do you mean by that?” demanded Cas, who was suddenly down on the ground next to Dean

“What do I mean by that?” Dean smiled down at Cas. He grabbed a belt loop on Cas’s jeans and tugged the angel a little nearer. Cas blew smoke in his face. Dean squinted and coughed. “Was that nice?”

“I was just joking,” muttered Cas.

“No you weren’t.”

“Dean! Cas!” came Sam’s cry. They were instantly off running in the direction of the commotion.

“Think it’s your angel buddies again?” asked Dean.

“I hope not.”

Dean and Cas screeched to a halt the instant they saw Sam. The parking lot in this section seemed to have melted, so he was standing shin-deep in a sticky black pool: it much resembled a tableau you might see at the La Brea Tar Pits, except featuring Sam Winchester instead of a mastodon.

"What the hell, Sammy?" asked Dean. "Maybe I'm going out on a limb here, but can you remember to not step in tar?"

"It's nor me! It's them!" said Sam, wildly gesturing at a couple of black, gooey creatures who Dean just noticed were cavorting at the edge of the pool of tar. One of them had a shovel sticking out of its back. "I tried clobbering them but it just got stuck."

"You need a better damn weapon," said Dean, hefting his axe. "Come on, Cas, let's slice and dice."

"Uh," said Cas, who was now holding his sword quite protectively against his body.

"Don't be a sword pansy! Come on!"

"A sword pansy?" asked Cas. By he nevertheless followed Dean who, being careful to step around the sludge, neatly hacked one of the creatures in half. Cas bisected the other, and the body parts sunk back down to become black limps on top of the goo.

"See?" said Dean while a fuming Sam continued to struggle against the goo.

"We still need to extricate Sam," Cas noted.

"So, just stand and pull." Dean demonstrated, and managed to get one of his own shoes stuck in the pool. "Dammit! Cas, help me out here."

"Dean!"

Dean somewhat laboriously rotated his body (it was awkward, as he could only move one foot) to see what the angel was caterwauling about now. The four half monsters had each now regenerated into a full tar monster. Cas, trying to sidestep the tar, was already slashing at them.

“Wait!” shouted Dean. “You can’t kill them that way.”

“Do you have a better suggestion, Dean?” asked Cas as one of the gooey creatures slid past Cas and bolted for Sam. Dean managed to lean over and hack it to pieces, but not without lodging his other foot in the black mire.

“Can’t you do your weird trick?” asked Dean.

“If I could, don’t you think I would?”

Dean gnashed his teeth. “Son of a bitch!” he muttered, which was not terribly helpful. Cas was still mobile, but had now been surrounded by tar, and was trying to fight from a small patch of ground.

“What do we do? We’re just making it worse,” said Sam.

“Cover your ears!” shouted Gabriel, who was now standing up on top of a nearby car.

“Gabriel, what the hell are you doing here?” asked Dean.

“Cover your ears, dumbass!” Gabriel repeated. Dean obeyed, and they all watched Gabriel, who had closed his eyes and extended his hands, a look of great concentration on his face. He flicked his hands, in a gesture that resembled what they had seen Raphael do. But instead of arcs of electrical current, Dean could suddenly sense a funny drop in air pressure, like a calm before a storm. There was a silence, and then a shattering, high-pitched howl came screaming through. Dean lost his footing and slammed down to his knees on the hard asphalt.

Dean opened his eyes and sent a hand down to the ground. The sticky tar was gone, and his feet were free. He jumped up and whirled around. The area around Sam, Dean and Cas had somehow been blasted clean, and nothing was left but a wide crescent of sticky, bubbling black residue in the parking lot around them.

“And that is how we do that,” grinned Gabriel, who gracefully leapt from the top of the car.

“I don’t know what you did, but that was awesome,” said Sam, who was still shaking.

“Gabriel!” shouted Cas. The semicircle of black goo had begun to resolve once again into tar creatures. Many, many, many tar creatures.

“Oh. Fuck,” said Gabriel.

“I don’t believe this! You made it worse you idiot!” yelled Dean, waving his axe at Gabriel.

“You don’t need to get shouty,” sniffed Gabriel, crossing his arms. “I mean, at least you’re not stuck any more.”

“Heads up!” shouted Benny, who ran in clutching a gas can and dumped the contents on the nearest tar creatures. “I need a light!”

Cas went into his coat and extracted a matchbook. He lit a match. Benny grabbed both from Cas and used the match to light up the entire matchbook, which he tossed on the gas-soaked tar creatures. It emitted a terrible scream as it lit up, and the fire soon spread to the next one, and then the next, and then the next, until the entire circle of monsters was aflame.

“Kill it with fire,” said Benny smugly.

“You took my matchbook,” grumbled Cas.

“You shouldn’t smoke so much,” said Benny. “Stunts your growth.” Cas glared at him.

“Benny, what the hell are you doing here?” asked Dean. “You two were supposed to head back to camp.”

“I save your bacon again and that’s the thanks I get?” said Benny.

“He insisted,” said Gabriel. “I was going to take him back but he said we needed to find you.”

“The little sonuvabitch nearly got us both killed on the way,” said Benny. “Where the hell did you learn to drive?”

“Heaven,” said Gabriel.

“The roadways up there are a lot like those found Southeast Asia, or so I’ve heard,” said Cas, a slight smile flicking at the edges of his mouth. “Everybody wishes for a Ferrari.”

“Yeah, sure. And they all wanna blow job while they’re driving,” grinned Gabriel.

Sam snorted with laughter, but Benny looked suspiciously from one angel to the other. “These guys shining me on?” he asked Dean.

Dean hiked his axe over his shoulder. “I thought you had amnesia, Cas.”

“I do,” Cas admitted, a smile flickering as Benny glared.

Dean frowned. “OK, well, as long as you guys are here, I guess we could use the assistance.”

“You suppose, huh?” said Benny. “Well, then, I suppose we'll come with.” His hand went to his stomach. “Though I could use a meal.”

“Oh, want me to blow up another deer for you, Ben?” asked Gabriel.

“Yeah, that would hit the spot.”

“We could grab one on the way....”

Dean looked as though he was going to vomit. “Good god! Just, the both of you, keep it to yourselves!” said Dean.

“They're fun when they blow up. You know we're all just basically bags of bodily fluid!” said Gabriel.

They walked back to the cars, Dean muttering and shaking his head as Sam laughingly patted him on the shoulder. Benny started to reach for the back door of the Impala, but Dean stepped in the way. “Go! Go with the angel and get your meat bag. Or whatever.”

“Aw, but he drives too fast,” Benny grumbled as Cas seized the moment and ducked under his arm to claim the Impala's back seat. Benny stood, glowering, as the car roared off, Cas looking back, waggling his tongue at the vampire.



“Oh, what are they doing now?” Dean moaned as he watched Gabriel and Benny up ahead in the pickup suddenly careen across four lanes of traffic to veer off the deserted highway yet again. Unable to follow the crazy maneuver, Dean slowed the Impala and got ready to flip another U-turn to follow them down the off ramp. “No pulling off! That’s the rule. Unless it’s for biological needs, or Video Safari.”

“Is that a ferris wheel?” asked Sam, pointing out to the north. Cas pressed his face to the car window. He couldn't remember ever seeing such a thing before. It looked like an enchanted wonderland.

“Son of a bitch! Tell me they are not headed to that amusement park,” said Dean, cranking on the big steering wheel.

“They're headed to that amusement park,” laughed Sam.

“That is an … amusement park?” Cas asked.

Dean had threaded the car around the bend and onto the off ramp. “Yeah, you know, Cas, like a carnival? You'd stuff yourself full of cotton candy and deep fried hot dogs.”

“And then go on a roller coaster and barf,” said Sam.

“All over your brother,” groused Dean.

“This sounds like something Gabriel would appreciate,” Cas told them, all the while wondering how he knew this. Gabriel had an odd sense of humor. His brothers were often annoyed by it.

“I just wanna make good time,” said Dean. “We can't do that if these clowns are always taking off.”

“Benny's gotta eat,” reasoned Sam.

Dean only appeared more agitated. “I think they just like draining deer. And what the hell happened to Bobby? He should have reported back by now.”

“Maybe we could try to contact him while we're stopped?” reasoned Sam as Dean pulled the car up alongside the pickup truck in the vast, empty parking lot. Cas jumped out of the back seat just as an empty paper bag scudded across at his feet. There was a slight breeze, but no other movement apparent inside the extensive park grouds, which were visible over a brightly painted concrete wall. There was the slight sound of trickling water. Off in the distance, a winding river edged the parking lot, and then curved gently to circle around behind the wall, where it must have served as a wide moat around the back of the park

“Guys, what the hell?” demanded Dean.

“This is Walley World,” Gabriel announced, pointing to the giant plaster Moose mascot waving out front.

“I always wanted to go,” said Benny.

“So you need to let us,” said Gabriel.

“I thought you two didn't even like each other,” said Dean, pointing back and forth between Gabriel and Benny.

“We don't,” said Gabriel. “In fact, we loathe each other.”

“We just need to get our Walley on, man,” said Benny, draping an arm around Gabriel.

Dean looked as if he wanted to murder both of them.

Sam placed a calming hand on his seething brother's shoulder. “Look, Dean, we're about midway now. Let's let these guys look around, and maybe we can get something to eat and put a word out for Bobby. Check out what's happening between here and the coast.”

Dean cast a steely glance at Benny and Gabriel. “All right. All right. But stick together. And keep an eye out for Croats.” Angel and vampire were already striding off towards the main gate. “We'll get the ritual started. C'mon Cas.”

Cas, who had started to wander off behind his brother, paused and looked around. “Uh, sorry?”

“Summoning Bobby! Come on, chop chop!” said Dean, clapping his hands impatiently. Sam had already opened the Impala's large trunk and was rummaging around inside.

Cas took one last wistful look at the graceful spirals on the top of castle in the center of the park, and turned dutifully to help Sam and Dean. Appointing Cas as their sentry, they positioned themselves just outside the concrete wall, in the shelter from the wind. Dean chalked some markings into the parking lot while Sam fiddled with a number of bags, tossing various herbs into a bowl. Dean, finally satisfied that his markings were up to snuff, went and grabbed a set of candles from the trunk.

“What was that?” said Cas as all three men turned towards noises coming from the darkened amusement park. Like some great beast, it started to slowly awaken, with sounds, lights and motion. Cas gasped as cars on a roller coaster whizzed by almost directly overhead.

“What are those two empty heads doing?” raved Dean.

Sam shrugged his broad shoulders. “Must've found a backup generator.”

“Wasting fuel, and blasting a Croat beacon to the nearby counties.”

“We haven't seen a lot of Croats in the area, Dean.”

“This'll bring 'em out of the woodwork!”

“Could we go in?” asked Cas shyly. “I mean, after this is done?” he added, taking in a withering glance from Dean.

“Yeah, good idea, Cas,” said Sam diplomatically. “Let's finish this, and then you can go tear Benny a new one, Dean.”

Grumbling all the time, Dean arranged the candles and they managed to get all of them lit. And then as a last gesture, Dean tossed Bobby’s flask into the middle of the chalk circle.

"Amate spiritum obscure/ Te quaerimus/ Oramus nobiscum colloquere/ Apud nos circita,” Sam recited, walking around in a slow circle and pouring out a thin trail of salt as he walked.

The three waited. The candles flared as the roller coaster cars zipped by once again, and then, in the middle of the circle, faintly visible in the dim light of dusk, was the spirit of Bobby Singer.

“Bobby! Where the hell you been dude?” said Dean, who was careful to stay outside the circle.

But Bobby wasn't looking at him. He was staring back over his shoulder, talking to someone invisible to Sam and Dean. “Don't pull me back now, god dammit! I got business.”

“Bobby? What's going on?”

“Just hold your horses, I told you. Sam and Dean wanna talk.” Bobby whirled around. “Oh, no. Are you dimwits still consorting with that miserable angel fucker?” he demanded waving a ghostly hand at Cas.

“Would you like me to send him away,” Cas asked, narrowing his eyes at Bobby.

“Just...” said Dean, holding a restraining arm out in front of Cas. “Just be cool. Both of you.”

“Bobby,” said Sam. “Did you check the road ahead, man? We're kind of flying blind here.”

“I just- Will you lay off for one damn minute, Pamela?” said Bobby, who suddenly whirled around again to talk to an invisible companion.

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. “OK. Bobby, why don't you tell Pamela you're talking to us now?” Sam suggested.

“Because I'm talking to the idjits now, woman! Lay off,” Bobby snapped. He turned back to face Sam and Dean. “Woman won't listen to a damn word I say.”

“Bobby! Focus! The road ahead, dude,” said Dean. “We need to know what's happening between here and Seattle.”

“Seattle?” barked Bobby. “You damn fools. It's not Seattle.”

“It's not?” asked Sam.

“It's Vancouver. Get your asses to Vancouver.” Bobby suddenly turned around yet again. “Missouri! I said not-” But the rest of his sentence was lost, as Bobby's spirit was suddenly gone, nothing lingering but a vague scent of ozone.

The three stared at the empty space where the spirit had just stood.

“Son of a bitch. What the hell did that mean?” asked Dean.

Sam frowned. “Huh. Well, Vancouver is just a few miles north of Seattle. I'm not sure-”

“Hey you guys! Aren't you coming in?” asked Gabriel, who had just ambled up along with Benny.

“What the hell do you think you're doing with this?” said Dean, rounding on them and pointing at the roller coaster whizzing by overhead. “You need to turn it off! Now!”

“Huh,” said Gabriel, winking at Benny. “Turn it all off?”

“Did I stutter? Yeah, turn it all off.”

“So, I guess that means you don't wanna ride the Dr. Sexy Experience?” asked Benny.

“The- What?” Dean's eyes had suddenly grown ten times larger.

“It's over in the Walley Studios part of the park,” said Gabriel, unfolding a pamphlet he'd been clutching. “According to this, it was their newest ride. I don't think it even opened before the park shut down for good.”

“Pretty sad to miss it,” tutted Benny as Dean snatched the pamphlet from Gabriel. “Big ol’ fan like you, Dean.”

Dean stared at the wrinkled sheet of paper and then crumpled it in his hand. “OK OK OK. We go, we take one ride, and then you guys shut this shit all down. I mean, I gotta go, right?” he added, looking mournfully at Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I guess one ride won't kill us.”

“Good,” said Dean, who was already stalking towards the entrance, Gabriel and Benny hastening after him.. “Sam, you two, stand guard. We won't be long.”

Castiel, who had also been following Dean, suddenly halted, his face falling. “St- stand guard?” he quavered. He turned his head to see Sam's big hand on his shoulder.

“My brother is a nut job sometimes. Come on, let's get something to eat. You hungry?”

Cas nodded, and they had soon taken out the little camp stove and a couple mason jars of stew. Cas was hungrier than he'd realized, so they'd just grabbed a couple of spoons and eaten the hearty concoction straight out of the pan.

“Glad I threw in some of this,” said Sam, licking the spoon and leaning over to grab another mason jar, one filled with a clear liquid. He grabbed a couple of small metal cups and filled them, handing one off to Cas.

“What is this, Sam?” asked Cas, who was in the middle of lighting the inevitable cigarette.

“Well, let's just say, before Bobby went to his reward, he had a hobby.”

Cas took a sip, and then immediately started choking. He sucked on his cigarette again. “What the fuck was that?” he rasped.

“Moonshine.”

“Can I have some more?”

Sam grinned and tipped over the mason jar. They settled back, backs against the car, watching the stars start to pop out in the evening sky. Cas grabbed up the park map that Dean had crumpled and tossed to the ground and gazed at it. Sam scooted over to look over Cas’s shoulder. “I'm looking for Walley Studios,” said Cas. “It looks like it's at the far end of the park, beyond Walleyland, beside Walley Sea.”

“Walley Sea?” asked Sam. He grabbed the map, and turned it over and then over again. “Hey, check it out, it looks like Walley Sea is a water park. It must be near the river.” He pointed off to where the meandering river wound around the back of the park.

Cas squinted, and then sat up. “Do you see the lights, Sam?” Sam tried to trace where Cas was pointing, although the gathering darkness made it difficult to see. Just visible upstream there was a line of little points of light skidding down the river. They seemed to be floating on top of the water, like fireflies.

“Is it the moonlight?” asked Sam.

“There is no moon tonight, Sam.”

Sam looked to Cas, who showed no emotion, and then back to the river, wondering why he was feeling a sense of dread. The floating lights reflected as ripples in the river. They grew bigger as they approached the park, seeming to stretch out until they were not just pinpricks, but appeared almost as small luminescent globes, bobbing on the current. As Sam continued to watch, the lights in the very front appeared to resolve, one by one, into actual bodies, though they were definitely not human.

“Cas,” said Sam.

The angel was already on his feet. “Something is not right, Sam.”

“Get Dean,” said Sam.

And they were both running.