A Canticle for Dr. Sexy (Chapter 4 of 6)
Nov. 27th, 2012 02:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: A Canticle for Dr. Sexy (Chapter 4 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, Vertigo comics, and the work of Hayao Miyazaki.
Some years ago....
Castiel leaned against the building and lit a cigarette.
He had spent much of the last few months in the company of Gabriel and Balthazar. Occasionally other of the exiled angels would join them.
They had heard nothing from heaven in this time, nor from their other brothers and sisters, who must no doubt still be around.
He still didn't understand why Gabriel had chosen him to hang out with. Castiel had fought side by side with Balthazar for many years, so they were acquainted with each other, but Gabriel had always seemed to treat Castiel with ... well, if not contempt, then at least a certain lack of respect. Castiel was not a high-ranking angel. He was a soldier. And one who always seemed to ask too many questions.
As for Michael's instructions to walk among mankind, his friends seemed to take this as permission to experience the human world at its most dissolute. They were currently ensconced inside the local house of ill repute, drinking, gambling, and no doubt consorting with women (and quite possibly men). Castiel didn't necessarily rebuke them for this behavior. He was not entirely innocent of it himself. He simply found it somehow unsatisfying. Imbibing large quantities of alcohol without a specific cause for celebration? Garnering funds with no clear eye how to spend them? Sexual congress which lacked a concomitant affection for one's partner?
It was all a little boring.
He didn't fault them going through the motions, if that was what pleased them. But he found he felt only emptiness. And he was every bit as confused now as that evening not so long ago when they had found themselves assembled on top of a human office building somewhere in Seattle.
“Castiel!” He looked up at the sound of his elder brother's voice.
“They're inside, Lucifer,” Castiel told him. Gabriel hadn't told him Lucifer would be joining them. Lucifer was one of the most beautiful, courteous, and well-loved of all the angels.
And Castiel detested him.
“I thought I would stay outside. And talk to you,” said Lucifer.
Castiel brought out his crumpled cigarette pack and offered it to Lucifer, who waved it away. “Don't touch the stuff. Why is it you smoke?”
Castiel took a long puff. “To remind myself I'm human.”
Lucifer scowled, for just one moment. “So, Gabriel and Balthazar are inside.”
“That's what I said.”
“They have an … interesting conception of walking the earth.”
“If it makes them happy.” Castiel shrugged.
“You approve?”
“Why should I be in the position to approve or disapprove?” Castiel was beginning to wish Lucifer would go inside and confront his brothers directly. At least it would be amusing.
Lucifer tsked. “I always seem to upset you, Castiel. I really don't know why.”
“Because you never say what you think: you say what you believe I want to hear.” Castiel frowned at his cigarette, surprised at his own boldness. Lucifer was a much higher ranked angel – possibly the favorite, many said. It was ridiculous to oppose him.
“So, do you now agree with my position, that humanity is a flawed creation?”
“Yes. They are deeply flawed,” said Castiel.
“Ah.”
“And gloriously beautiful. My Father's greatest creation.”
Lucifer let his face sour once again, just for the briefest moment.
“Hey, Luci! Is our brother annoying you?” called Gabriel, who, along with Balthazar and a couple of female friends, had just stumbled out the back way.
“Balthazar,” said Lucifer quietly. And then he took Gabriel by the shoulder and steered him away from the rest to have a whispered conversation a few paces up the alley. Gabiel's friend, a busty blonde woman, attached herself quite happily to an obviously uncomfortable Castiel.
“You should be in, having fun,” said Balthazar, who had a friendly female companion under either arm.
“I am fine,” said Castiel, cringing as the blonde sent a hand through his hair. “Please don't do that,” he chastened her, pushing himself a hand's length away.
“Aw, was just bein' friendly,” she pouted.
“Yes, and we do appreciate it, Melody,” said Balthazar, stuffing a wad of cash in her cleavage. She grinned, and, blowing a kiss at Balthazar, headed back into the building. “And we appreciate you too,” he told the other girls, kissing them on their foreheads and sending them off with a pat to the ass and yet more cash.
“So if it's so great in there, why are you and Gabriel out here?” Castiel asked. Balthazar didn't answer, but nodded his head up towards where Gabriel and Lucifer were conferring. Lucifer nodded, and then walked off.
Gabriel came sauntering over, putting one hand on Castiel's shoulder, and another on Balthazar's. “Wanna push on to the next joint?”
“What was that about?” Castiel asked.
“Oh, Luci just wanted me to do a job for him. That's all.” Gabriel draped his full arm around Castiel's shoulders and attempted to march the younger angel up the alley.
Castiel stopped dead in the middle of the alley. “What kind of job?”
Gabriel and Balthazar exchanged a glance. “Now, nothing to get upset about, Cassie.”
“What kind of job?” Castiel persisted, jerking away from Gabriel's grasp. He glared down at Gabriel.
“There's some people doing some kind of wacky research with viruses and crap, and Luci just wants me to take a look. And maybe grab some samples.”
“And this is something you would do for him, Gabriel?”
“Hey, look,” said Gabriel, once again snaking his arm around his younger brother's shoulders. “We're supposed to see what humans are up to, right? So, we're poking around.”
“And then we'll report back to Michael,” said Balthazar.
“Sure. So it doesn't look like we spent the year drinking and fucking around. Which we kinda did,” laughed Gabriel.
“Nothing to worry about,” said Balthazar.
“No, nothing to worry that pretty head over,” said Gabriel. “So come on, Cassie. I know of a joint down the road. They got a few cute boys. Maybe that will be more your speed.”
“I will not be interested. As I have already told you,” Castiel said, flicking his cigarette to the ground and grinding it out.
“Sure you're interested,” said Gabriel.
Castiel scowled. “Gabriel, you are aware that Lucifer doesn't like humans?”
“Neither do you! At least you never like any of the humans we send your way,” pouted Gabriel.
“Perhaps he has unreasonably high standards,” sighed Balthazar.
“I'm hungry,” said Cas.
“OK, OK,” said Gabriel. “Let's see if we can find an ice cream parlor. I'm in the mood for gelato.”
The present day….
“So there's really no DVD set volume 25?” whined Dean as he, Sam and the actor, Robert Phillips drove back to the Pink Palace.
“It was never filmed,” Robert, sitting in the back seat, told him. “I'm pretty sure we had the scripts written. But it was getting too dangerous.”
After Dean had introduced himself as a devoted fan, Robert Phillips had changed almost instantly from a terrified survivor to rather calm and conversational. Shortest case of PTSD ever, Sam decided.
“Well, what happened?” asked Dean. “Or, what was gonna happen? Dude, you gotta tell me!”
“I don't know. I never saw them. I think the writer packed up and took the last scripts with her.”
“Damn!”
“So, why aren't you in Hollywood?” asked Sam
“Nobody films in Hollywood anymore,” scoffed Robert. “Too expensive. The unions, you know.”
“I don't suppose there's much left of Hollywood any more anyway,” said Sam.
“Maybe,” said Robert. “But I bet it gets back to speed pretty quick after all of this is over.” Sam sent a skeptical look to Dean, who blissfully ignored him.
“You think you'll get back to Dr. Sexy?” asked Dean.
“I don't know. I've been looking for other opportunities. A reason to stretch myself, you know?”
“So, the house I was talking about, you don't recognize it?” Sam prodded.
“It wouldn't be around here,” said Robert. “There's Victorians, but you'd have to go out of town to find a grandma's house out in the woods. Why are you guys so interested, anyway?”
“This is going to sound really weird...” Sam began.
“Weirder than real zombies overrunning my TV show?” asked Robert.
“Well. OK. I get dreams, and sometimes they come true.”
“Oh, you're like Sylvia!” said Robert.
“Uh, who?” asked Sam.
“Sylvia Wallace,” said Dean. “She was on one of the writing teams.”
“Yeah. She was the writer Mac brought in when we had to fire another writer. Old partner of his or something. Anyway, she had a real wacky process. She would dream the show, and then she'd write it down. She had this really cool old manual typewriter. And then she and Mac would work it into a script.”
“She was a prophet of TV shows?” asked Dean.
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“Sylvia Wallace?” muttered Dean.
“Yeah, that's her!”
Sam shot a questioning look at Dean, who supplied, “There was some kinda controversy the last season....”
“Madison was a plagiarist,” interjected Robert.
“What? I knew it!” said Dean. Sam frowned again, so Dean told him, “They had lost some of the writing staff to Croatoan, and so they brought on this hot writer, Madison Blair, to make it up. But then she left suddenly, and no one would say why.”
“Gag order,” supplied Robert. “So Mac brought on his old partner, Sylvia. The one with the dreams. So, you get dreams too? I always wondered what that was like.”
“It's fucking frustrating,” said Sam. “I can't choose what I dream about, or when I have a vision. Or I'll have a vision, like the girl in the house with the pills, and I won't get enough information to do anything about it. Or I'll just forget it.”
“The girl with the pills?” asked Robert.
“Yeah, the reason we're searching for this house is that there's a woman there who Sammy thinks is gonna OD,” said Dean. “And we're riding to the rescue.”
“She spent the dream counting out these red pills. I looked them up,” Sam told them. “Some kind of barbiturates.”
“Wait. A redheaded girl?” asked Robert.
“Yeah, a redhead.”
“Cat's eye glasses?”
“Yeah.”
“Whoa! Freaky!” said Robert.
Sam was turned all the way around, looking into the back seat. “Robert. What the hell.”
“That's Sylvia!”
And the car was stopped.
“You dreamed a Dr. Sexy writer?” Dean demanded of Sam, who was ignoring him. “And you didn't tell me?”
“Robert,” said Sam. “Where does she live? We gotta get to her!”
“She's down in Vancouver. At least, I think she went home.”
“Where in Vancouver?”
“No, no, not here.”
“There's another Vancouver?” asked Dean.
“Vancouver, Washington, guys. She's down in Vancouver. You know, it might be a house in the woods.”
“Son of a bitch!” shouted Dean. “Nobody told us there was another Vancouver.”
“You won't be able to get there, I am afraid. The road is impassable.”
“Did the I-5 highway not survive?” Dean asked Michael as he peered at the roadmap spread out over one of the antique tables in Michael's penthouse suite. These past couple of days, Sam and Dean had been treated with some amount of deference by the angels in Michael's retinue because, Dean suspected, he had brought in the missing volumes of Dr. Sexy DVDs. But they were hailed as no less than conquering heroes for dragging in the scraggly remains of Dr. Sexy himself, Robert Phillips, to the archangel's headquarters.
But he and Sam were getting stonewalled on his request to send a rescue mission down to Vancouver, WA. It didn't seem to matter that an actual Dr. Sexy writer was the party in question.
And the angels – his angels – were being no help at all: Cas standing in stony silence, Gabriel hopped up on the back of one of the couches, kicking his legs and rolling his eyes.
“The road's fine, kiddo,” Gabriel said now. “You just got Luci in your path.”
“Gabriel speaks the truth. For once,” said Michael, flashing Gabriel one of his customary dark looks.
“And, you won't try to get through?” asked Dean. “Even for a Dr. Sexy writer?”
“She won an Emmy,” Sam tried.
Michael shrugged. “My powers, unfortunately, are not complimentary to Lucifer's, so, while he cannot harm me, this situation is, er....” Michael looked around in embarrassment. “At an impasse.”
“Is that why you let Cassie go after him alone?” asked Gabriel.
“I never said that,” snapped Michael.
“But that's what happened, isn't it?” Gabriel's grin was genuinely nasty.
Michael glared at Gabriel, and for a moment, Dean worried there was going to be an angel duel right here, right now. Which might have been cool. Dean didn't care for Michael's taste in antiques, so he would have liked to see a few ugly statues broken in the melee.
Michael, however, appeared to deflate. “I don't know what happened to Castiel. You will have to ask your brother about that one,” he added, scowling at Gabriel.
“Oh, so now he's my brother?”
“Do you do the electricity thing, Mkie?” Dean interjected. He flapped his hands in a vaguely wing-like fashion.
“My power is water-based,” said Michael. He turned his back to Dean and walked out to stand on his grand balcony, the sea visible behind him. He turned around dramatically. Dean could almost hear the background music swell. “Most of your planet is water, and I am its master.” He raised his arms dramatically, and you could hear, as if in answer, the surf crashing below.
“Oh, so you're like that useless kid in the Wonder Twins,” mused Dean. Sam stared at him. “You know, Sammy, the one who'd turn into a bucket of water while the other guys were kicking ass?” Gabriel snickered, and Michael just looked pissed so Dean backpedaled. “Uh, I mean ... never mind.”
“If his power was fire...” Michael mused.
“What is it?” asked Sam.
“Light,” said Cas, who had been standing silent as a statue in the back. “Lucifer harnesses the power of light.”
“Ohhhhh!” said Dean, who felt he was finally starting to get it. He stared at Cas. “That's why you tried to take him out?”
“I.... I think so,” Cas told him, nodding. Dean was smiling proudly, and Cas colored slightly. “But I don't really remember.”
“It was an ill-advised move,” grumbled Michael. “You are of low rank, Castiel. You should never have challenged Lucifer. If … that is what happened.”
“Hey, Water Boy,” said Dean, rounding on Michael. “You're Cas's big brother, right? Then it was your job to look out for him. That's what brothers do for each other.”
Michael glared at Dean. Dean heard the waves crashing on the beach far below. He and Sam exchanged a quick glance, Sam silently shaking his head.
“I think this conversation is at an end,” said Michael. And suddenly several of his minions were there, ushering out Dean and his friends. “I am sorry about your little friend.”
“She's gonna die, Michael,” Dean shouted back at Michael. “And it'll be on your head.”
The party ended up gathering in their unofficial headquarters, the building's bar, along with Benny, who had been getting surprisingly friendly with Balthazar.
“They let you out of customs duty, Balthy?” Dean asked irritably. He needed a beer. He looked again at Sam's mournful expression, and decided he needed many beers.
“I was getting bored. It happens frequently, I'm afraid. You boys were the first excitement we've had in months.”
“Something doesn't add up, Cas,” said Dean, gesturing with his beer bottle. “You told me you were always scared you were too powerful? I mean, before you got hurt?”
Cas shrugged and nodded. “My brother is weird,” Gabriel supplied. “What?” he said to Cas's dark look. “You can never be too rich or too powerful.”
“Then why did Michael keep insisting he wasn't a match for Lucifer?” asked Dean.
“It's complicated,” said Gabriel. “Michael's always though that Lucifer was his to deal with. 'Cause he's the oldest.”
“But he will not risk directly confronting Lucifer,” said Balthazar, who was looking around suspiciously. He leaned forward and whispered, “As he was always Daddy's favorite.”
“You think Lucifer should be confronted, Balthazar?” asked Sam.
Balthazar looked around again. “My opinion doesn't matter.”
“Dammit!” said Dean. “We gotta move on this. I don't wanna get sidelined by fucking angel politics. Do you guys have any information about what's going on in Seattle? Or why Lucifer is camped out there?”
“We don't know,” Balthazar told them. “Therein lies the problem. The last few scouts we've sent down that way have not returned.”
“Well. That sucks.”
“Anyway, you gonna trust Mike's intelligence on this, Dean?” asked Gabriel. “I mean, guy didn't even know he had Dr. Sexy running around in his own city until you guys found him.”
Dean nodded, running a worried hand through his hair. “I just don't think we have the strength to take on Lucifer right now. We know he nearly killed Cas.”
“There's other ways, besides a head-on battle,” said Benny, sitting back in the booth.
“What do you mean by that, Fangs?” asked Gabriel
“So, this Luci character,” asked Benny, leaning forward to put a thick finger on the map. “He just squatting on the city, or does he have the whole state cornered? I mean, all the way out to the coastline?”
“I am fairly certain it's just the metropolitan area,” Balthazar told him. “But he's got control of the biggest, clearest roadway between here and there.”
“That is where you're wrong!” Benny declared, swirling his scotch.
“What are you talking about, Benny? What, you want us to fly there?” asked Dean.
“Look out the window, brother. What do you see out there?”
Dean turned around and looked out the Pink Palace's broad picture window. “The ocean. Duh.”
“And what am I?”
Dean grinned. “An asshole. A bloodsucker. And an ex-hog.”
Benny scowled. “Dude, I tol' you. I'm a vampirate! My nest, we sailed the high seas. Didn't you listen to none of my stories?”
“Yeah, but I thought you were bullshitting me,” said Dean.
“Unless I miss my guess,” said Benny, once again pointing a big finger on the map Dean had spread over the bar, “Your Vancouver way down in Washington is proximal to a body of water, namely, the Pacific Ocean, as well.”
The group was quiet for a moment.
“For what it's worth, I don't think Lucifer possesses the angel-power to watch the coastline,” said Balthazar.
“Son of a bitch!” said Dean. “So, we hot-wire a boat, and sail south. Benny, that's awesome.”
“Gabriel's going with us? We can't get rid of him?”
“Aw, c'mon Dean,” said Sam as they leaned back against the Impala in the dockside parking lot. “Dude's powerful.”
“He's just annoying. And I don't quite trust him. Cas says he was one of Lucifer's boys.”
“Dude. You trust Michael any more than you trust him?”
“Well, no, but at least Michael's a Dr. Sexy fan!” reasoned Dean. He looked towards the ocean. “The one thing I regret is leaving Baby here,” he sighed, patting the fender of his beloved Impala.
“Well, we're not very well gonna cram this thing on a sailboat,” laughed Sam.
“Baby is not a thing,” huffed Dean.
“Hey, boys!” came Balthazar's voice. “Are we too late for this mystery cruise?” He and Robert Phillips had come hastening up the parking lot towards the Winchesters. Now clean-shaven and wearing brand new clothes, Robert looked a lot more like his Dr. Sexy character, although he was still a bit pale and gaunt.
Dean turned to the actor. “You sure you wanna come along, dude?” he asked Robert. “We'd love to have you, but it's gonna be dangerous.”
“I survived on my own for months,” said Robert. “But there weren't any other people around. I don't know if I wanna be left … with the angels.” He finished in a whisper, as Balthazar was hovering nearby. “Uh, no offense?”
“None taken,” laughed Balthazar. “We are a bit ridiculous, aren't we?”
“And you wanna go too, Balthy?” asked Dean.
“Well, I have a little talent that might come in handy for the journey.” And so saying, Balthazar reached out his arms in a gesture Dean immediately recognized. Dean cringed, wondering if it was electroshock, noise, or maybe a rain of toads.
But instead, there was a howl of wind, and suddenly every banner on the dockside was flying.
“Hey, you got wind power?” asked Dean.
“Might come in handy, sailing and all,” grinned Balthazar.
“Or if we all wanna fly kites,” suggested Sam.
Suddenly there was a huge bleat from the direction of the water.
“What the hell?” asked Dean, instinctively clutching his weapon.
“Is that what I think it is?” asked Sam, witnessing the large craft now gliding into the harbor.
“It's a ferry!” yelled Dean. He turned around to look at his car, and then turned back. “Holy shit! Ha! Benny, Iove you, man!”
“How the blazes did he manage that?” asked Balthazar.
“HEY YOU GUYS! LOOK WHAT WE FOUND!” boomed Gabriel, who, alongside Cas, was waving at them from the upper deck.
After some shouted instructions from Gabriel, Sam, Dean and the rest hurried to the ferry dock. To Dean’s astonishment, the huge craft glided in and docked as if this were an everyday occurrence.
“I not only hot-wired a ship,” bragged Benny as he stomped down the gangplank once they had got her all tied up, “I got y’all a captain! This here is Captain Garth Fitzgerald IV,” he said, indicating the gangly guy walking beside him.
“Aw, I don’t stand on formalities! Y’all can call me Garth!” said Captain Fitzgerald. Dean held out a hand and, ignoring it, Garth pulled him into a big hug.
“Uh, what is this?” Dean whispered to Cas as Captain Fitzgerald then wrapped Sam in a warm embrace.
“That is the captain's chosen greeting method,” Cas told him.
“Oh. Uh. I don't like it.”
“I don't think anybody likes it,” Cas told him.
Cas was standing out on the upper deck smoking his inevitable cigarette. He was leaning his waist against the railing, looking out at the ocean. He felt arms wrap around him, and then Dean was kissing his neck.
“It's going to get rougher once we're out of the Puget Sound,” Cas told him.
“You always say such romantic things,” grinned Dean, who tugged Cas around to face him.
“You always appear to have one thing on your mind,” Cas scolded him. Dean had his arms inside Cas's coat and his hands were now wandering around in search of bare angel skin.
“Let's find some place private,” Dean whispered.
“This was just a commuter ferry, I believe, Dean. There are no, uh, private areas as such.”
“Dude,” said Dean, tugging Cas towards a stairwell. “We got the car, remember?”
Sam’s already unpleasant expression soured yet more as he watched as Dean and Cas closed the metal door and disappeared downstairs. He had grown frustrated with all the delays, and completely annoyed with the shenanigans of the angels. And all that compounded with the fact that his stupid prophetic dream had sent him to the wrong damn city. What use was it having prophetic dreams if all they gave you was incomplete information and a headache? And they still had no idea how they were going to fulfill their promise to Death to find the antidote, that is if Lucifer really did have a lock on Seattle.
Sam sighed. He had to admit, there was also a pang of jealousy that colored his rotten mood. Dean was happy, and Sam should rightfully be happy Dean was happy. But face it, his brother was sort of a doofus, and here he'd scored an angel? Sam was a prophet! OK, maybe an unauthorized one, but what was in it for him? Where was his damned dream being?
In the wrong fucking Vancouver.
“You know, they wanted to have angels on our show.”
Sam looked up at the actor, who had just drawn near. “Oh, hey Robert,” he sighed, wishing the guy would go bother Dean instead. “Who wanted angels on your show?”
“Mac and Sylvia. They were writing angels, but the network put a kibosh on it. Said it would be offensive. We even had a casting call. But they ended up rewriting it as demons instead. Isn't that weird? That evil would be less offensive than good?”
Sam stared at the doorway where Dean and Cas had disappeared. “I'm not convinced angels are all good. They're … complicated.”
“I guess you know more about it. Those guys … well, you don't wanna knock fans, but they gave me the heebie jeebies.”
“So the writer, Sylvia? She saw the stories in a dream?”
“I figured it was their process, you know? She said she dreamed it, but I didn't take it literally. I used the method myself, but it got difficult when I'm supposed to be playing a doctor dealing with restless spirits and demons.”
“I guess so.” Sam wandered over to the portion of the railing where Cas had been standing, and leaned his arms on it. “So, what do you think the show meant?”
“What do you mean?” laughed Robert.
Sam stared out at the deep ocean waters. “When I get a dream, like when I dreamed about Sylvia, it's a message. I need to do something. I need to go somewhere. It's like getting instructions. What do you think the show was saying?”
“Not a whole hell of a lot. It was on basic cable!”
“OK,” said Sam.
“What? Do you think it all had some kind of cosmic message?”
“I barely watch it. No offense. But Dean's the fan.”
Robert gazed out across the water. “Oh, an intellectual, huh? You probably didn't even have a TV, did you?”
“Well.... No,” Sam admitted.
“Maybe it was about love,” said Robert, now leaning over to stand beside Sam at the railing. “Love conquers all. Love fucks up everything.”
“Love and angels?” asked Sam.
“See? Now you regret you didn't watch it.”
“And what do you regret, Robert?” Sam wasn't 100% certain why he asked, but suddenly he needed to know.
“Sylvia.”
“What?”
“Is that dumb?” sighed Robert, his head sinking. “Here I am, I'm Dr. Sexy, MD. One of the Top Ten Hollywood Hotties, even though I wasn't really based in Hollywood. And she would barely talk to me. She wouldn't even meet my eyes. That had never been a problem for me. I mean, my whole life, since I was a teenager, if I wanted to talk to a girl, she would damn well listen. And then... I don't even know what would have become of it. I just wanted to talk, you know? To find out what she did when she wasn't spending 48 hours trying to crunch out a script for a stupid hospital drama.”
Sam blinked at Robert. “I'm not exactly a relationship coach. But, dude. Didn't you think about just going to talk with her?”
“You asked for my regrets,” sighed Robert.
Sam shrugged and looked back out over the water, silently cursing stupid hospital dramas and their stupid, stupid actors.
Dean sighed and shifted to stretch out somewhat more comfortably on the seat.
To be honest, the back seat of his car was large, but not quite large enough for someone of his size to genuinely stretch out. But he wriggled, and grabbed Cas and scooted him around so things were the most agreeable.
They had gotten more or less dressed, but then both had lacked the will to venture outside the car.
“So,” said Dean, as Cas looked up at his own hands. “You done it in the back seat of a car before?”
“Yes.”
Dean blinked. “What?” Even after spending a great deal of time rearranging Cas, he now pulled him around again so Dean could look in his eyes. “You don’t remember anything, but you remember that?”
Cas almost smirked. “Perhaps it was memorable? I think I used to hitchhike.”
“Really?”
Cas nodded. “I’m pretty sure-“ But then the car bucked, and he was nearly thrown from Dean’s lap.
“What the fuck?” asked Dean.
“I think we’ve reached open water,” said Cas, as the vehicle lurched again. Before Dean could grab on to him, Cas had slipped off and opened the door. There was another wave, and Dean bonked his head. “OW!”
“You might wanna get out of the car,” Cas laughed. “Could you toss me my shoes?” Dean did so, aiming for Cas’s head. The laughing angel easily ducked.
“Ah, I thought I might find you gentlemen somewhere in the vicinity,” smiled Balthazar as Cas rooted around for where his shoes had rolled to.
“Some powers of deduction. This is the only damn car on the boat!” sniffed Dean, who was trying to sit on the running board where the door was opened and pull his socks on, but having little luck with it.
“What did you want, Balthazar?” asked Castiel.
Balthazar put a hand on his shoulder. “I am afraid I may have told a teeny tiny lie. I came aboard partially to exercise my wind power, which is fabulous. But I also have some things I’d like to tell you, Cassie. And I wanted a bit of privacy, away from angelic ears, to do it.”
“Like what?”
Balthazar flicked his eyes over to Dean, and then looked back at Castiel.
“Anything you tell me, Dean can know as well,” Cas told Balthazar.
Some years ago….
Castiel stood alone on the rooftop in Seattle, smoking a cigarette.
It was one year, to the day, after they had all assembled here for the very first time.
He had lost track of Gabriel and Balthazar some months ago, around the time Gabriel had promised to do some mysterious “job” for Lucifer.
He hadn't bothered to reconnect with them. The feeling of emptiness had finally boiled up inside, overwhelming him. He needed something else. Perhaps it was just to go back to being an angel, although, to be frank, that fate didn't much appeal.
Nothing much appealed.
Or perhaps he had just picked up on the vague sense of anxiety that was now roiling through humanity. Nobody was certain how it originated. Nothing was going wrong. Or at least more wrong than usual. Yes, wars were fought, and there was injustice. But why were people stockpiling firearms, storing away canned goods, constructing new fallout shelters? It didn't make sense.
Cas hadn't quite followed Michael's entreaty to walk the earth, although he had seen a good portion of the United States now. A little while after separating from Gabriel and Balthazar, he had taken to hitchhiking. He wasn't certain why he found this appealing, but he did. The open road didn't fill the empty space in his heart, but perhaps it lessened the ache. He had come upon a cheap suit in a Good Will store, and now wore that when he thumbed a ride. Drivers often took him for some kind of missionary, and he did not disabuse them of the notion. Sometimes he would even get a home cooked meal out of the deal. A lot of humans were supportive of doing God's work, it appeared, even if they were a little fuzzy as to what precisely this entailed.
Purely by happenstance, he sometimes ran into his brethren on the road. These encounters had not all been happy ones. As Balthazar had figured out their very first day on earth, they were currently trapped in human bodies, and divested of most of the powers they had grown used to. However, all of them seemed to have been granted a new power, and each appeared to be unique.
And, being angels, once they had recognized and mastered these powers, they used them to settle petty quarrels amongst themselves.
And there were always petty quarrels.
Raphael, for example, was capable of an electrical attack that resembled a small lightning strike. Balthazar could cause a windstorm. Gabriel had some kind of deadly sonic blast, which was unfortunately difficult to aim, creating the potential of collateral damage. He didn’t appear to care. Michael could harness water. He was very powerful, but at a loss if his opponent was neither standing near a body of water, or there was a low humidity in the area that day.
As for Cas’s power, he didn’t like to use it, as it frankly scared the shit out of him. It was just as well. Despite being a soldier of the Lord, he had never cared much for fighting his own brothers. And so he had mostly avoided them.
“Hello, Castiel.”
Cas hadn’t heard Lucifer arrive, but here he was, along with Raphael and Chazaquiel, who stood back. Raphael was glaring, and the albino, Chazaquiel, was grinning. Lucifer, as he inevitably did, looked earnest.
Cas arched an eyebrow and offered the cigarette pack to Lucifer, who waved him off. “Tsk. Still on the cancer sticks I see. Why are you here so early?”
“I don’t mind waiting,” said Cas.
“Ah. You were one of the Grigori, weren’t you?” Cas nodded. “Yes, one of the watchers. A little on the boring side, I’d think? So, what have you been up to?”
Cas stared at Raphael and Chazaquiel in turn. “Following Michael’s directive. Walking the earth.”
“Oh? And what have you concluded?”
“I like Marlboros,” said Cas, flicking ashes and blowing smoke in Lucifer’s general direction.
“Well, I have come to my own conclusion. Did you wish me to share?”
“You have always had a contempt for humanity,” said Cas.
“Castiel, Castiel, Castiel,” cooed Lucifer, taking Cas by the shoulder. Cas squirmed, but failed to break Lucifer’s grip.
“Let go, Lucifer.”
“Our elder brother is correct, in a sense,” Lucifer whispered. “It is clear we were put here for a purpose. And I have divined just what that is.” And then he held up a small test tube.
“What’s in the shiny, shiny tube, Luci?” asked Chazaquiel, laughing.
“Our Father’s final judgment,” said Lucifer, holding it up. “Something your brother Gabriel fetched me. Though he really has no idea what it is. A virus. Cooked up in a lab so it’s perfect. There’s no resistance, nothing to stop it once it gets out.”
Castiel wrested himself free of Lucifer. “Lucifer, don’t.”
“Tsk, Castiel. You shouldn’t get distracted by trivialities.”
“Trivialities? You are speaking of genocide.”
“Well, I didn’t think you would be on board. You disappoint me. But then, you’ve always been a disappointment, to everyone, haven’t you?” said Lucifer, stepping back. He raised his hand.
“You can’t do this. Are you insane?”
“Oh, then this will be a bit of fun.” And then Lucifer waved a hand, and suddenly there was a light, brighter than any supernova.
Cas was already countering, conjuring a darkness every bit as deep and empty as Lucifer’s light was bright. “Lucifer! There are people in this building!” he called.
“Then they’ll get a show, won’t they?”
He was hit with a jolt as Raphael added to the attack with an electrical charge.
Cas powered up, bleeding it all away, the light and electricity, and desperately trying to keep the darkness harnessed.
It wasn’t the nature of his power that scared him the most. It was his lack of control. The very first time, Cas had knocked over a tractor-trailer. He hadn’t meant to. He had just been trying to hold off Raphael when he had run into him and Chazaquiel by chance in the middle of nowhere. The truck had gone rolling, over and over and over, groaning and buckling, the contents scattering by the roadside as it split open. There had been no one inside, but Cas vowed to himself then and there never to use his powers in a populated area.
The rooftop had started to tremble.
“He can’t hold off all of us,” Raphael barked. “Chazaquiel!”
“Raphael! No!” Cas shouted in vain. “Lucifer!” The building rocked.
And then Chazaquiel, lazy grin on his albino face, joined in too, with his weird star power, molten light and heat all slamming in to Cas. Cas stepped back, and once again stepped up the darkness, creating a hollow where nothing escaped.
“Fuck,” said Chazaqiel as the ground beneath them bucked and roiled.
“Keep going!” said Lucifer.
Cas felt it. It was too powerful for the building to support.
“The building is collapsing!” said Chazaquiel.
“Keep going!” screamed Lucifer.
Cas thought of the humans down below, working in the office building, walking in the street. He felt the foundations crack.
He cut it off.
Light and color returned.
The three powers all hit him full force. He sunk to his knees, expecting to die.
“Stop!” ordered Lucifer. He went over and grabbed the smaller angel by the shoulders. And then he twisted.
Castiel cried out, in the worst pain he’d ever felt, the breath crushed out of him.
“You like your humans?” asked Lucifer. “Then here. Go join them. Be my guest.” And then, as Raphael watching in fascination and Chazaquiel chuckled, Lucifer wrested Castiel from the ground and summarily tossed him over the side of the building. There was a distant splash.
And then Lucifer took the test tube, and flung it after him. “Enjoy watching the ruined world, Castiel. Enjoy watching them dying.”
“Lucifer! What the blazes is going on?” demanded Michael, who had just arrived on the rooftop along with Gabriel and several other angels. “We saw the light. Were you three fighting?”
“Of course not. We three are best friends.”
“Lucifer,” said Gabriel.
“We were just going,” said Lucifer, nodding to Raphael and Chazaquiel. “Coming, Gabriel?”
“What's going on?” Gabriel asked.
“We're going,” said Lucifer. It sounded like an order. Gabriel hastened after him.
“Gabriel!” said Michael. “You walk out now, you are not welcome to come back.”
Gabriel looked around uncertainly, and then fled after Lucifer and his cronies.
The present day....
Balthazar leaned forward and extended a graceful hand towards Castiel, who held out the cigarette packet. Balthazar took one cigarette, and then Cas tossed him a book of matches.
They were sitting inside the glassed in portion of the observation deck astern. It was growing dark, so it was a little too cold to stand outside.
“How did you find this out?” asked Cas.
“You mean the last bit?” asked Balthazar. “Chazaquiel. Always got chatty when you got him drinking. I worried about you when you didn’t show up in Michael’s group, because I couldn’t imagine you going off with Lucifer. Yes, I do worry about my baby brother, on occasion. I know as an angel I should be more of a prick. It’s a fault.”
“We are dark things,” said Castiel. Dean, sitting beside him, put a hand on his back, feeling the angel tremble beneath him. “Dark and terrible things.”
“Not so terrible as you suppose, little one,” said Balthazar.
Dean leaned forward. “So, Balthy, you’re saying Lucifer started the Croatoan outbreak.” Balthazar nodded. Dean flicked his eyes over to Gabriel, who was looking away.
“Yeah, but who made the virus? Not angels,” said Sam, who was perched uncomfortably next to the door. He looked pale and sweaty. He had been suffering intermittently from seasickness since they hit open water, and was ready to bolt outside when his stomach reeled.
“Sam is correct,” said Balthazar. “It was a project of the defense department.”
“I don’t understand,” Cas was saying, shaky hands on a cigarette now. “Why didn’t I die?”
“You must’ve gone into the river,” muttered Gabriel. He had been uncharacteristically quiet during Balthazar's story.
“But from that height…” Cas started. He shook his head. Dean grabbed the cigarette from him and lit it himself. “I should be dead.”
“No you shouldn’t,” said Dean, handing over the cigarette. “You should be alive. You should be here.”
“I’ve already heard this story,” said Robert, who was sitting in a corner, drink in his hand.
“How the hell did you do that, Robert?” asked Dean. “You’re not an angel, are you?”
“No. It was one of the last scripts,” said Robert. “We never filmed it, but we were all there, so they did a table read. It was unusual, because things were so bad we were just getting scripts on the day we filmed the show.”
“And there was a conclave about a killer virus?” asked Dean.
“It was a medical show, remember. And they made it demons, not angels. I told you about our sponsors freaking out, right? Mac and Sylvia really wanted to do it. It just never got finished. So I don’t know how it ended.”
Benny stormed into the room. “We’re landing!” he announced.
“Excellent!” said Dean, standing up.
“Do I have permission to bite Captain Fitzgerald in his idiot neck?” Benny grumbled.
“No,” said Dean dryly.
“Damn,”
“Not till we’ve landed.”
Benny grinned.
Cas rose to go outside on the deck. Gabriel stood up as well. “Cas…” he began.
Castiel glared at him and stormed out, slamming the door after him.
“Gabriel, for the last time, no, we cannot go by Kurt Cobain’s house,” grumbled Dean. He was puttering around his car, carefully checking for any damage she may have sustained during the part of the journey on the high seas.
“But we’re already in Aberdeen!” whined Gabriel.
“We gotta worry about Sam's suicidal writer asshole before we worry about a suicidal grunge musician asshole,” Dean reasoned.
“Aw, c'mon Dean! Grunge was an art form! Tell him, Cas,” said Gabriel. Castiel looked daggers at Gabriel, and then turned around and stormed off.
“C'mon, Cassie! We're immortal. You gotta talk to me sometime!” Gabriel shouted after him. “Will you reason with him, Dean?”
“Reason with him?” asked Dean. “You're lucky we didn't toss you off the fucking boat. Didn't you think of asking Lucifer what he wanted that virus for?”
Gabriel stared at the ground. “Lucifer wanted a lot of things. I also gave him vitamins! Maybe he wanted to improve the lot of mankind. Like make licorice whips more nutritious, so you could live off 'em!”
Dean didn't answer, he just stared.
“OK, so maybe it wasn't my best decision making. But, look. If your brother asked for something, wouldn't you give it to him?”
“My brother isn't Lucifer,” said Dean with a great scowl.
“So, OK. But I'm on your side now, right? I mean, I helped you with the zombies. And the tar monsters.”
“You know,” said Dean, letting the hood shut with a slam that made Gabriel jump. “Here's what I think. I think you knew damn well something bad was going down. I think you suspected it was Lucifer who hurt Cas. I think that's why you feel so fucking guilty, so you're trying to help.” Gabriel didn't reply. “Gabriel. Isn't it obvious? Lucifer knew the only one among you who had the balls and the power to oppose him was Cas. That's why he and his stooges took him out.”
“Yeah. Maybe,” Gabriel admitted.
“And now the bastard has the only antidote tied up.” Dean sighed. “Look, Gabe, why did Lucifer have you do his dirty work, anyway? Sounds like he's got other guys.”
“I'm best at being sneaky and underhanded,” Gabriel explained with an undeniable note of pride.
“Yeah. Great,” said Dean. He looked up to see Benny approaching.
“You sure I can’t come along, man?” sighed Benny.
“Benny! Dude, we talked about this.” Dean wiped a greasy hand across his forehead. Gabriel arched an eyebrow and handed over a towel. “If Lucifer’s guys find the ship in this harbor, she’s gonna be a sitting duck. Garth is gonna take the boat back out to wait for us, and he needs a crew. And you’re the only person, supernatural or not, who’s got his sea legs.”
“But there ain’t even any nice ground out there,” said Benny. “What if I get injured?”
“Look, you got a few minutes, why don’t you guys grab some shovels and go dig up a crate full of delicious topsoil for you to take along?” Dean asked with a shudder.
“So who’s going?” asked Gabriel.
“Sam and me. And Cas,” said Dean, as Cas had just come back over, along with Sam and Robert.
“Are you sure you want me, Dean?” asked Cas, who had been in a bit of an angel funk after hearing Balthazar's story.
Dean approached the Cas, placing his hands on his shoulders. “Of course we want you along. I want you along.”
“Oh, do we have to hear this? Just kiss already,” grumble Gabriel.
Dean cast an annoyed glance at Gabriel, and then, with a mischievous smile, turned back and landed a kiss on a very surprised Cas.
“OK, no more arguments, you’re going,” Dean told Cas, now winking triumphantly at a speechless Gabriel.
“Well, I should go too,” said Gabriel, recovering quickly.
“No,” said Cas.
“No, you’re not going,” said Dean.
“Cas! I didn’t know about the Lucifer stuff! I swear. I mean,” Gabriel added, looking at Dean. “Maybe I should have. But I didn't.”
“No,” said Cas stubbornly.
“I think I should go,” said Robert quietly.
“Yeah, Dean,” said Sam grudgingly. “I agree. I think Robert should come with us.” Robert smiled gratefully at Sam.
“Well, you’re the prophet,” said Dean, thumping Sam on the shoulder. “OK, you guys. We’re giving ourselves 72 hours. If we don’t make the rendezvous, you head back to the other Vancouver.”
And then, after an uncomfortable round of hugs from Captain Fitzgerald, they were off.
They ran into trouble sooner rather than later. Since Dean had wanted to check out his car before they set off, this meant it was getting dark by the time they got underway, and for whatever reason, the shuffling Croats seemed to prefer moving by night. They had all become accustomed to the relatively safe roadways they had experienced on the Canadian side of the border, so Dean wasn’t prepared to encounter their first crop of the undead less than 20 miles from port, on a section of road that had been, unluckily, blocked by debris.
On the other hand, he was truly impressed with his current team. Though he missed having Benny fighting at his side, but Sam turned out to be deadly with a pickaxe, and Robert seemed to have learned a little about hand to hand combat (and not the kind where you call a stunt man) during his time alone in Vancouver, as he was fearlessly clubbing zombies.
And Cas was of course amazing with the sword. Although, sadly, he couldn't seem to recall how to utilize his power once they had cleared the zombies and it was time to push away the wrecked cars blocking the roadway aside. For that they had ended up using the Impala's push-bar and old fashioned sweat.
Exhausted, Dean decided to pause for a brief rest a few miles up the road. Sam, who was getting mightily impatient, protested vigorously, even though he had been too seasick to sleep onboard the ferry. Dean insisted and, after Sam and Robert were settled down, asked that Cas take sentry duty with him. “Dude, you gotta remember how to use that funky black hole power,” he told Cas as soon as the others were squared away in sleeping bags.
“Dean, you heard Balthazar. And I am beginning to remember as well. My power is dangerous.”
“Well, first off, you don’t know that, because Lucifer hurt you,” said Dean, wincing as he remembered the terrible bruises on Cas’s back. “And secondly, look, it sounds like your brothers are all a bunch of loose nukes as well.”
“That is not a comforting way to express it.”
“I assume you’ve heard of mutually assured destruction?”
“Yes. From the Twentieth Century. The acronym, in case you do not remember, was M.A.D.” Cas shot Dean an accusing glance.
“You managed when you thought Sam was in danger,” Dean said quietly. Cas looked up at Dean in surprise, but then tried to cover it in a shrug. “We're gonna need you up and running before this is done. Remember, we still have to find a way to get to Seattle to grab the antidote. That means confronting your brother again.”
Cas nodded. He heard a loud sound and looked over. Sam was sawing wood.
“This might be good,” said Dean. “He snores when he's doing the vision thing.”
“So why is Robert snoring?” asked Cas with a slight smile.
“Why am I here? In a hospital? And why am I in a lab coat?”
“Uh. I think you’re in my show, dude,” laughed Robert, who looked very comfortable in his own lab coat and scrubs. One might even say, he looked sexy.
“And why am I having a dream here?” asked Sam as some gossiping nurses walked past him. “I hate this show! Uh, I mean, no offense.”
Robert looked around. “OK, I think I know what to do. Follow me.” He stormed off a few steps, and then turned and looked back at Sam. “Uh, the deal is, we gotta go together. We do a walk and talk.”
“A walk and talk?”
Robert tilted his head in a “come on” gesture, and Sam began to walk with him. “See,” said Robert, “when you’re doing an expository dialog scene, sometimes it can get really boring if you have two people just sit down and talk.”
“OK,” said Sam, dodging around a group of extras rushing a patient along on a stretcher.
“So to make it dynamic, you just have guys storm down a hallway, and also crank up the dialog speed. Get it?”
“Uh. Got it.”
“Good, now, here’s what I think we do. We negotiate this corridor, and then we can get to the end of this set and into the studio.”
“It’s not a hospital?” Sam fiddled with the stethoscope around his neck.
“I’ve never worked at a hospital, dude. I’m an actor, remember?”
A young woman wearing, inevitably, scrubs and a lab coat, approached Robert and Sam. “Oops,” Robert whispered to Sam. “I need to stop and confront this one. We were sort of having an affair.”
“What?” asked Sam, who didn’t recognize the actress, as she looked to him exactly like all the other actresses on the show, all collagen and Botox.
“Doctor!” she said.
“Doctor,” said Robert.
“Doctor,” she told Sam, although she kept her eyes fixed on Robert.
“Uh. Yeah. Doctor,” said Sam, who flipped off his stethoscope and tried to tuck it in a pants pocket, only to discover that scrub pants don’t have pockets.
“We need to talk, Doctor,” said the young woman.
“Yes we do. But I have a pressing concern right now.” Robert looked at Sam. “We have a potentially suicidal patient.”
The young actress threw back her head, tossing her long brown hair. “Ha. That’s a laugh.”
“Well, actually, no it isn’t. She wrote a bunch of your best lines, so you should probably show some respect.”
“What?”
“Come on,” Robert told Sam. “We don’t have much time.” He strode forward again, and Sam, unwilling to mess up the walk and talk, scurried after him, adding an, “Uh, bye, Doctor!” to the young lady.
“Such a scenery chewer,” muttered Robert. “OK, here we go, through this way.” Sam followed Robert into what looked like a broom closet, but instead, the door opened onto a huge room with prefab metal walls that looked like an aircraft hangar.
“The studio?” asked Sam. But Robert had broken out into a run. “Hey, I can’t talk and run!” Sam shouted after him. Though it was a large space, there were at least as many obstacles as had been in the hospital set, people pushing bits of scenery around on trolleys and hauling around props.
Sam, who was a little out of breath, ran to where Robert was now opening an external door. “Dude, I see where you honed your zombie dodging skills,” he breathed as Robert threw open a door. Sam expected to see sunlight, but it was somewhat darker outside.
“Vancouver, always gets so freaking cold this time of year,” Robert complained as he stormed outside.
Sam, who was used to being plagued by zombies more than being followed by television production people, peered carefully outside the door before following the actor. He wished he had grabbed something he could use as a weapon.
There was an expanse of well-trimmed lawn nearby, and a few picnic tables. A familiar redhead sat at a picnic table, bundled up under many layers of clothing, typing on a noisy old manual typewriter. Robert now stood beside her. Casting one more look around, Sam approached them.
“Sylvia. Where’s Mac?” Robert was asking.
“He went away,” said Sylvia sadly, not looking up from her typing.
“I’m sorry.”
“I wish he had made it. It was bad. Like losing Cam.”
“Hey, Sylvia,” said Sam. “We met before I guess.”
“Hello, Sam,” she said, still hunched over her typewriter.
“Look, we’re coming, like I promised,” Sam told her. “Can you, uh, tell us where you are?”
“I’m here,” she said. “Working. Like always.”
“OK, not helpful,” said Sam, sitting down opposite. He noticed the pill bottle, sitting next to the typewriter.
“Syl,” said Robert, now leaning over her. “Is that a script?”
“Don’t touch it!” she cried as Robert suddenly leaned over and ripped the sheet from the typewriter. He threw it on the table. Sam looked at it. It looked like a legal document.
“This is a will,” said Sam, who reached over and grabbed the pill bottle, snapping off the top and upturning it on the table.
It was empty.
“Syl,” said Robert, as she collapsed back into his arms. “How many did you take?”
“I had enough,” she told him. “I always had enough.”
Robert shook her. “FUCK! You’re not gonna die. Where are you?”
“I’ll already be dead.”
“No! Sylvia,” said Sam. “You don’t understand. We need help. We need your help. I’m like you, OK? I understand. I understand that it sucks. Help me. Even if it’s the last thing you do.” He reached over and gripped her hands, concentrating. “Where are you? Tell me where you are.”
Suddenly there was a huge boom, and the ground trembled. They were all thrown to the ground. Sam scrambled to his feet. The landscape had changed. It was a wasteland. His wasteland.
“What the hell,” said Robert, who was still on the ground, holding Sylvia.
“I pulled her into my dream. Look!” He pointed up to a low hill. There was a rambling Victorian mansion up at the top. “Where is this?” asked Sam. There was actually a whole neighborhood below the mansion, many older houses. “Where are we?” asked Sam. He looked around frantically for some landmarks. A dog had come galumphing up to them. “Hey, Max,” he muttered. The dog waddled over and gave Sylvia a great doggie kiss.
The girl, who had been silent for a while, seemed to roused. “Dog?” she asked.
“Where are you?” asked Sam, squatting down to be at eye level.
“Syl,” urged Robert.
“I liked dogs,” said Sylvia groggily.
“This is Max,” said Sam.
“Oh, I live right near the MAX station,” giggled Sylvia.
“The Max?” asked Sam.
“Light rail. She lives near a light rail station,” said Robert as Sylvia collapsed again.
Sam woke and untangled from his sleeping bag. “We gotta go!” he said, rousing Robert beside him. “Dean! Cas! We gotta go! Now!”
“It’s still dark, Sammy,” said Dean.
“We found her,” Sam told him as Robert came awake. “We gotta go. Now!”
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, Vertigo comics, and the work of Hayao Miyazaki.
Some years ago....
Castiel leaned against the building and lit a cigarette.
He had spent much of the last few months in the company of Gabriel and Balthazar. Occasionally other of the exiled angels would join them.
They had heard nothing from heaven in this time, nor from their other brothers and sisters, who must no doubt still be around.
He still didn't understand why Gabriel had chosen him to hang out with. Castiel had fought side by side with Balthazar for many years, so they were acquainted with each other, but Gabriel had always seemed to treat Castiel with ... well, if not contempt, then at least a certain lack of respect. Castiel was not a high-ranking angel. He was a soldier. And one who always seemed to ask too many questions.
As for Michael's instructions to walk among mankind, his friends seemed to take this as permission to experience the human world at its most dissolute. They were currently ensconced inside the local house of ill repute, drinking, gambling, and no doubt consorting with women (and quite possibly men). Castiel didn't necessarily rebuke them for this behavior. He was not entirely innocent of it himself. He simply found it somehow unsatisfying. Imbibing large quantities of alcohol without a specific cause for celebration? Garnering funds with no clear eye how to spend them? Sexual congress which lacked a concomitant affection for one's partner?
It was all a little boring.
He didn't fault them going through the motions, if that was what pleased them. But he found he felt only emptiness. And he was every bit as confused now as that evening not so long ago when they had found themselves assembled on top of a human office building somewhere in Seattle.
“Castiel!” He looked up at the sound of his elder brother's voice.
“They're inside, Lucifer,” Castiel told him. Gabriel hadn't told him Lucifer would be joining them. Lucifer was one of the most beautiful, courteous, and well-loved of all the angels.
And Castiel detested him.
“I thought I would stay outside. And talk to you,” said Lucifer.
Castiel brought out his crumpled cigarette pack and offered it to Lucifer, who waved it away. “Don't touch the stuff. Why is it you smoke?”
Castiel took a long puff. “To remind myself I'm human.”
Lucifer scowled, for just one moment. “So, Gabriel and Balthazar are inside.”
“That's what I said.”
“They have an … interesting conception of walking the earth.”
“If it makes them happy.” Castiel shrugged.
“You approve?”
“Why should I be in the position to approve or disapprove?” Castiel was beginning to wish Lucifer would go inside and confront his brothers directly. At least it would be amusing.
Lucifer tsked. “I always seem to upset you, Castiel. I really don't know why.”
“Because you never say what you think: you say what you believe I want to hear.” Castiel frowned at his cigarette, surprised at his own boldness. Lucifer was a much higher ranked angel – possibly the favorite, many said. It was ridiculous to oppose him.
“So, do you now agree with my position, that humanity is a flawed creation?”
“Yes. They are deeply flawed,” said Castiel.
“Ah.”
“And gloriously beautiful. My Father's greatest creation.”
Lucifer let his face sour once again, just for the briefest moment.
“Hey, Luci! Is our brother annoying you?” called Gabriel, who, along with Balthazar and a couple of female friends, had just stumbled out the back way.
“Balthazar,” said Lucifer quietly. And then he took Gabriel by the shoulder and steered him away from the rest to have a whispered conversation a few paces up the alley. Gabiel's friend, a busty blonde woman, attached herself quite happily to an obviously uncomfortable Castiel.
“You should be in, having fun,” said Balthazar, who had a friendly female companion under either arm.
“I am fine,” said Castiel, cringing as the blonde sent a hand through his hair. “Please don't do that,” he chastened her, pushing himself a hand's length away.
“Aw, was just bein' friendly,” she pouted.
“Yes, and we do appreciate it, Melody,” said Balthazar, stuffing a wad of cash in her cleavage. She grinned, and, blowing a kiss at Balthazar, headed back into the building. “And we appreciate you too,” he told the other girls, kissing them on their foreheads and sending them off with a pat to the ass and yet more cash.
“So if it's so great in there, why are you and Gabriel out here?” Castiel asked. Balthazar didn't answer, but nodded his head up towards where Gabriel and Lucifer were conferring. Lucifer nodded, and then walked off.
Gabriel came sauntering over, putting one hand on Castiel's shoulder, and another on Balthazar's. “Wanna push on to the next joint?”
“What was that about?” Castiel asked.
“Oh, Luci just wanted me to do a job for him. That's all.” Gabriel draped his full arm around Castiel's shoulders and attempted to march the younger angel up the alley.
Castiel stopped dead in the middle of the alley. “What kind of job?”
Gabriel and Balthazar exchanged a glance. “Now, nothing to get upset about, Cassie.”
“What kind of job?” Castiel persisted, jerking away from Gabriel's grasp. He glared down at Gabriel.
“There's some people doing some kind of wacky research with viruses and crap, and Luci just wants me to take a look. And maybe grab some samples.”
“And this is something you would do for him, Gabriel?”
“Hey, look,” said Gabriel, once again snaking his arm around his younger brother's shoulders. “We're supposed to see what humans are up to, right? So, we're poking around.”
“And then we'll report back to Michael,” said Balthazar.
“Sure. So it doesn't look like we spent the year drinking and fucking around. Which we kinda did,” laughed Gabriel.
“Nothing to worry about,” said Balthazar.
“No, nothing to worry that pretty head over,” said Gabriel. “So come on, Cassie. I know of a joint down the road. They got a few cute boys. Maybe that will be more your speed.”
“I will not be interested. As I have already told you,” Castiel said, flicking his cigarette to the ground and grinding it out.
“Sure you're interested,” said Gabriel.
Castiel scowled. “Gabriel, you are aware that Lucifer doesn't like humans?”
“Neither do you! At least you never like any of the humans we send your way,” pouted Gabriel.
“Perhaps he has unreasonably high standards,” sighed Balthazar.
“I'm hungry,” said Cas.
“OK, OK,” said Gabriel. “Let's see if we can find an ice cream parlor. I'm in the mood for gelato.”
The present day….
“So there's really no DVD set volume 25?” whined Dean as he, Sam and the actor, Robert Phillips drove back to the Pink Palace.
“It was never filmed,” Robert, sitting in the back seat, told him. “I'm pretty sure we had the scripts written. But it was getting too dangerous.”
After Dean had introduced himself as a devoted fan, Robert Phillips had changed almost instantly from a terrified survivor to rather calm and conversational. Shortest case of PTSD ever, Sam decided.
“Well, what happened?” asked Dean. “Or, what was gonna happen? Dude, you gotta tell me!”
“I don't know. I never saw them. I think the writer packed up and took the last scripts with her.”
“Damn!”
“So, why aren't you in Hollywood?” asked Sam
“Nobody films in Hollywood anymore,” scoffed Robert. “Too expensive. The unions, you know.”
“I don't suppose there's much left of Hollywood any more anyway,” said Sam.
“Maybe,” said Robert. “But I bet it gets back to speed pretty quick after all of this is over.” Sam sent a skeptical look to Dean, who blissfully ignored him.
“You think you'll get back to Dr. Sexy?” asked Dean.
“I don't know. I've been looking for other opportunities. A reason to stretch myself, you know?”
“So, the house I was talking about, you don't recognize it?” Sam prodded.
“It wouldn't be around here,” said Robert. “There's Victorians, but you'd have to go out of town to find a grandma's house out in the woods. Why are you guys so interested, anyway?”
“This is going to sound really weird...” Sam began.
“Weirder than real zombies overrunning my TV show?” asked Robert.
“Well. OK. I get dreams, and sometimes they come true.”
“Oh, you're like Sylvia!” said Robert.
“Uh, who?” asked Sam.
“Sylvia Wallace,” said Dean. “She was on one of the writing teams.”
“Yeah. She was the writer Mac brought in when we had to fire another writer. Old partner of his or something. Anyway, she had a real wacky process. She would dream the show, and then she'd write it down. She had this really cool old manual typewriter. And then she and Mac would work it into a script.”
“She was a prophet of TV shows?” asked Dean.
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“Sylvia Wallace?” muttered Dean.
“Yeah, that's her!”
Sam shot a questioning look at Dean, who supplied, “There was some kinda controversy the last season....”
“Madison was a plagiarist,” interjected Robert.
“What? I knew it!” said Dean. Sam frowned again, so Dean told him, “They had lost some of the writing staff to Croatoan, and so they brought on this hot writer, Madison Blair, to make it up. But then she left suddenly, and no one would say why.”
“Gag order,” supplied Robert. “So Mac brought on his old partner, Sylvia. The one with the dreams. So, you get dreams too? I always wondered what that was like.”
“It's fucking frustrating,” said Sam. “I can't choose what I dream about, or when I have a vision. Or I'll have a vision, like the girl in the house with the pills, and I won't get enough information to do anything about it. Or I'll just forget it.”
“The girl with the pills?” asked Robert.
“Yeah, the reason we're searching for this house is that there's a woman there who Sammy thinks is gonna OD,” said Dean. “And we're riding to the rescue.”
“She spent the dream counting out these red pills. I looked them up,” Sam told them. “Some kind of barbiturates.”
“Wait. A redheaded girl?” asked Robert.
“Yeah, a redhead.”
“Cat's eye glasses?”
“Yeah.”
“Whoa! Freaky!” said Robert.
Sam was turned all the way around, looking into the back seat. “Robert. What the hell.”
“That's Sylvia!”
And the car was stopped.
“You dreamed a Dr. Sexy writer?” Dean demanded of Sam, who was ignoring him. “And you didn't tell me?”
“Robert,” said Sam. “Where does she live? We gotta get to her!”
“She's down in Vancouver. At least, I think she went home.”
“Where in Vancouver?”
“No, no, not here.”
“There's another Vancouver?” asked Dean.
“Vancouver, Washington, guys. She's down in Vancouver. You know, it might be a house in the woods.”
“Son of a bitch!” shouted Dean. “Nobody told us there was another Vancouver.”
“You won't be able to get there, I am afraid. The road is impassable.”
“Did the I-5 highway not survive?” Dean asked Michael as he peered at the roadmap spread out over one of the antique tables in Michael's penthouse suite. These past couple of days, Sam and Dean had been treated with some amount of deference by the angels in Michael's retinue because, Dean suspected, he had brought in the missing volumes of Dr. Sexy DVDs. But they were hailed as no less than conquering heroes for dragging in the scraggly remains of Dr. Sexy himself, Robert Phillips, to the archangel's headquarters.
But he and Sam were getting stonewalled on his request to send a rescue mission down to Vancouver, WA. It didn't seem to matter that an actual Dr. Sexy writer was the party in question.
And the angels – his angels – were being no help at all: Cas standing in stony silence, Gabriel hopped up on the back of one of the couches, kicking his legs and rolling his eyes.
“The road's fine, kiddo,” Gabriel said now. “You just got Luci in your path.”
“Gabriel speaks the truth. For once,” said Michael, flashing Gabriel one of his customary dark looks.
“And, you won't try to get through?” asked Dean. “Even for a Dr. Sexy writer?”
“She won an Emmy,” Sam tried.
Michael shrugged. “My powers, unfortunately, are not complimentary to Lucifer's, so, while he cannot harm me, this situation is, er....” Michael looked around in embarrassment. “At an impasse.”
“Is that why you let Cassie go after him alone?” asked Gabriel.
“I never said that,” snapped Michael.
“But that's what happened, isn't it?” Gabriel's grin was genuinely nasty.
Michael glared at Gabriel, and for a moment, Dean worried there was going to be an angel duel right here, right now. Which might have been cool. Dean didn't care for Michael's taste in antiques, so he would have liked to see a few ugly statues broken in the melee.
Michael, however, appeared to deflate. “I don't know what happened to Castiel. You will have to ask your brother about that one,” he added, scowling at Gabriel.
“Oh, so now he's my brother?”
“Do you do the electricity thing, Mkie?” Dean interjected. He flapped his hands in a vaguely wing-like fashion.
“My power is water-based,” said Michael. He turned his back to Dean and walked out to stand on his grand balcony, the sea visible behind him. He turned around dramatically. Dean could almost hear the background music swell. “Most of your planet is water, and I am its master.” He raised his arms dramatically, and you could hear, as if in answer, the surf crashing below.
“Oh, so you're like that useless kid in the Wonder Twins,” mused Dean. Sam stared at him. “You know, Sammy, the one who'd turn into a bucket of water while the other guys were kicking ass?” Gabriel snickered, and Michael just looked pissed so Dean backpedaled. “Uh, I mean ... never mind.”
“If his power was fire...” Michael mused.
“What is it?” asked Sam.
“Light,” said Cas, who had been standing silent as a statue in the back. “Lucifer harnesses the power of light.”
“Ohhhhh!” said Dean, who felt he was finally starting to get it. He stared at Cas. “That's why you tried to take him out?”
“I.... I think so,” Cas told him, nodding. Dean was smiling proudly, and Cas colored slightly. “But I don't really remember.”
“It was an ill-advised move,” grumbled Michael. “You are of low rank, Castiel. You should never have challenged Lucifer. If … that is what happened.”
“Hey, Water Boy,” said Dean, rounding on Michael. “You're Cas's big brother, right? Then it was your job to look out for him. That's what brothers do for each other.”
Michael glared at Dean. Dean heard the waves crashing on the beach far below. He and Sam exchanged a quick glance, Sam silently shaking his head.
“I think this conversation is at an end,” said Michael. And suddenly several of his minions were there, ushering out Dean and his friends. “I am sorry about your little friend.”
“She's gonna die, Michael,” Dean shouted back at Michael. “And it'll be on your head.”
The party ended up gathering in their unofficial headquarters, the building's bar, along with Benny, who had been getting surprisingly friendly with Balthazar.
“They let you out of customs duty, Balthy?” Dean asked irritably. He needed a beer. He looked again at Sam's mournful expression, and decided he needed many beers.
“I was getting bored. It happens frequently, I'm afraid. You boys were the first excitement we've had in months.”
“Something doesn't add up, Cas,” said Dean, gesturing with his beer bottle. “You told me you were always scared you were too powerful? I mean, before you got hurt?”
Cas shrugged and nodded. “My brother is weird,” Gabriel supplied. “What?” he said to Cas's dark look. “You can never be too rich or too powerful.”
“Then why did Michael keep insisting he wasn't a match for Lucifer?” asked Dean.
“It's complicated,” said Gabriel. “Michael's always though that Lucifer was his to deal with. 'Cause he's the oldest.”
“But he will not risk directly confronting Lucifer,” said Balthazar, who was looking around suspiciously. He leaned forward and whispered, “As he was always Daddy's favorite.”
“You think Lucifer should be confronted, Balthazar?” asked Sam.
Balthazar looked around again. “My opinion doesn't matter.”
“Dammit!” said Dean. “We gotta move on this. I don't wanna get sidelined by fucking angel politics. Do you guys have any information about what's going on in Seattle? Or why Lucifer is camped out there?”
“We don't know,” Balthazar told them. “Therein lies the problem. The last few scouts we've sent down that way have not returned.”
“Well. That sucks.”
“Anyway, you gonna trust Mike's intelligence on this, Dean?” asked Gabriel. “I mean, guy didn't even know he had Dr. Sexy running around in his own city until you guys found him.”
Dean nodded, running a worried hand through his hair. “I just don't think we have the strength to take on Lucifer right now. We know he nearly killed Cas.”
“There's other ways, besides a head-on battle,” said Benny, sitting back in the booth.
“What do you mean by that, Fangs?” asked Gabriel
“So, this Luci character,” asked Benny, leaning forward to put a thick finger on the map. “He just squatting on the city, or does he have the whole state cornered? I mean, all the way out to the coastline?”
“I am fairly certain it's just the metropolitan area,” Balthazar told him. “But he's got control of the biggest, clearest roadway between here and there.”
“That is where you're wrong!” Benny declared, swirling his scotch.
“What are you talking about, Benny? What, you want us to fly there?” asked Dean.
“Look out the window, brother. What do you see out there?”
Dean turned around and looked out the Pink Palace's broad picture window. “The ocean. Duh.”
“And what am I?”
Dean grinned. “An asshole. A bloodsucker. And an ex-hog.”
Benny scowled. “Dude, I tol' you. I'm a vampirate! My nest, we sailed the high seas. Didn't you listen to none of my stories?”
“Yeah, but I thought you were bullshitting me,” said Dean.
“Unless I miss my guess,” said Benny, once again pointing a big finger on the map Dean had spread over the bar, “Your Vancouver way down in Washington is proximal to a body of water, namely, the Pacific Ocean, as well.”
The group was quiet for a moment.
“For what it's worth, I don't think Lucifer possesses the angel-power to watch the coastline,” said Balthazar.
“Son of a bitch!” said Dean. “So, we hot-wire a boat, and sail south. Benny, that's awesome.”
“Gabriel's going with us? We can't get rid of him?”
“Aw, c'mon Dean,” said Sam as they leaned back against the Impala in the dockside parking lot. “Dude's powerful.”
“He's just annoying. And I don't quite trust him. Cas says he was one of Lucifer's boys.”
“Dude. You trust Michael any more than you trust him?”
“Well, no, but at least Michael's a Dr. Sexy fan!” reasoned Dean. He looked towards the ocean. “The one thing I regret is leaving Baby here,” he sighed, patting the fender of his beloved Impala.
“Well, we're not very well gonna cram this thing on a sailboat,” laughed Sam.
“Baby is not a thing,” huffed Dean.
“Hey, boys!” came Balthazar's voice. “Are we too late for this mystery cruise?” He and Robert Phillips had come hastening up the parking lot towards the Winchesters. Now clean-shaven and wearing brand new clothes, Robert looked a lot more like his Dr. Sexy character, although he was still a bit pale and gaunt.
Dean turned to the actor. “You sure you wanna come along, dude?” he asked Robert. “We'd love to have you, but it's gonna be dangerous.”
“I survived on my own for months,” said Robert. “But there weren't any other people around. I don't know if I wanna be left … with the angels.” He finished in a whisper, as Balthazar was hovering nearby. “Uh, no offense?”
“None taken,” laughed Balthazar. “We are a bit ridiculous, aren't we?”
“And you wanna go too, Balthy?” asked Dean.
“Well, I have a little talent that might come in handy for the journey.” And so saying, Balthazar reached out his arms in a gesture Dean immediately recognized. Dean cringed, wondering if it was electroshock, noise, or maybe a rain of toads.
But instead, there was a howl of wind, and suddenly every banner on the dockside was flying.
“Hey, you got wind power?” asked Dean.
“Might come in handy, sailing and all,” grinned Balthazar.
“Or if we all wanna fly kites,” suggested Sam.
Suddenly there was a huge bleat from the direction of the water.
“What the hell?” asked Dean, instinctively clutching his weapon.
“Is that what I think it is?” asked Sam, witnessing the large craft now gliding into the harbor.
“It's a ferry!” yelled Dean. He turned around to look at his car, and then turned back. “Holy shit! Ha! Benny, Iove you, man!”
“How the blazes did he manage that?” asked Balthazar.
“HEY YOU GUYS! LOOK WHAT WE FOUND!” boomed Gabriel, who, alongside Cas, was waving at them from the upper deck.
After some shouted instructions from Gabriel, Sam, Dean and the rest hurried to the ferry dock. To Dean’s astonishment, the huge craft glided in and docked as if this were an everyday occurrence.
“I not only hot-wired a ship,” bragged Benny as he stomped down the gangplank once they had got her all tied up, “I got y’all a captain! This here is Captain Garth Fitzgerald IV,” he said, indicating the gangly guy walking beside him.
“Aw, I don’t stand on formalities! Y’all can call me Garth!” said Captain Fitzgerald. Dean held out a hand and, ignoring it, Garth pulled him into a big hug.
“Uh, what is this?” Dean whispered to Cas as Captain Fitzgerald then wrapped Sam in a warm embrace.
“That is the captain's chosen greeting method,” Cas told him.
“Oh. Uh. I don't like it.”
“I don't think anybody likes it,” Cas told him.
Cas was standing out on the upper deck smoking his inevitable cigarette. He was leaning his waist against the railing, looking out at the ocean. He felt arms wrap around him, and then Dean was kissing his neck.
“It's going to get rougher once we're out of the Puget Sound,” Cas told him.
“You always say such romantic things,” grinned Dean, who tugged Cas around to face him.
“You always appear to have one thing on your mind,” Cas scolded him. Dean had his arms inside Cas's coat and his hands were now wandering around in search of bare angel skin.
“Let's find some place private,” Dean whispered.
“This was just a commuter ferry, I believe, Dean. There are no, uh, private areas as such.”
“Dude,” said Dean, tugging Cas towards a stairwell. “We got the car, remember?”
Sam’s already unpleasant expression soured yet more as he watched as Dean and Cas closed the metal door and disappeared downstairs. He had grown frustrated with all the delays, and completely annoyed with the shenanigans of the angels. And all that compounded with the fact that his stupid prophetic dream had sent him to the wrong damn city. What use was it having prophetic dreams if all they gave you was incomplete information and a headache? And they still had no idea how they were going to fulfill their promise to Death to find the antidote, that is if Lucifer really did have a lock on Seattle.
Sam sighed. He had to admit, there was also a pang of jealousy that colored his rotten mood. Dean was happy, and Sam should rightfully be happy Dean was happy. But face it, his brother was sort of a doofus, and here he'd scored an angel? Sam was a prophet! OK, maybe an unauthorized one, but what was in it for him? Where was his damned dream being?
In the wrong fucking Vancouver.
“You know, they wanted to have angels on our show.”
Sam looked up at the actor, who had just drawn near. “Oh, hey Robert,” he sighed, wishing the guy would go bother Dean instead. “Who wanted angels on your show?”
“Mac and Sylvia. They were writing angels, but the network put a kibosh on it. Said it would be offensive. We even had a casting call. But they ended up rewriting it as demons instead. Isn't that weird? That evil would be less offensive than good?”
Sam stared at the doorway where Dean and Cas had disappeared. “I'm not convinced angels are all good. They're … complicated.”
“I guess you know more about it. Those guys … well, you don't wanna knock fans, but they gave me the heebie jeebies.”
“So the writer, Sylvia? She saw the stories in a dream?”
“I figured it was their process, you know? She said she dreamed it, but I didn't take it literally. I used the method myself, but it got difficult when I'm supposed to be playing a doctor dealing with restless spirits and demons.”
“I guess so.” Sam wandered over to the portion of the railing where Cas had been standing, and leaned his arms on it. “So, what do you think the show meant?”
“What do you mean?” laughed Robert.
Sam stared out at the deep ocean waters. “When I get a dream, like when I dreamed about Sylvia, it's a message. I need to do something. I need to go somewhere. It's like getting instructions. What do you think the show was saying?”
“Not a whole hell of a lot. It was on basic cable!”
“OK,” said Sam.
“What? Do you think it all had some kind of cosmic message?”
“I barely watch it. No offense. But Dean's the fan.”
Robert gazed out across the water. “Oh, an intellectual, huh? You probably didn't even have a TV, did you?”
“Well.... No,” Sam admitted.
“Maybe it was about love,” said Robert, now leaning over to stand beside Sam at the railing. “Love conquers all. Love fucks up everything.”
“Love and angels?” asked Sam.
“See? Now you regret you didn't watch it.”
“And what do you regret, Robert?” Sam wasn't 100% certain why he asked, but suddenly he needed to know.
“Sylvia.”
“What?”
“Is that dumb?” sighed Robert, his head sinking. “Here I am, I'm Dr. Sexy, MD. One of the Top Ten Hollywood Hotties, even though I wasn't really based in Hollywood. And she would barely talk to me. She wouldn't even meet my eyes. That had never been a problem for me. I mean, my whole life, since I was a teenager, if I wanted to talk to a girl, she would damn well listen. And then... I don't even know what would have become of it. I just wanted to talk, you know? To find out what she did when she wasn't spending 48 hours trying to crunch out a script for a stupid hospital drama.”
Sam blinked at Robert. “I'm not exactly a relationship coach. But, dude. Didn't you think about just going to talk with her?”
“You asked for my regrets,” sighed Robert.
Sam shrugged and looked back out over the water, silently cursing stupid hospital dramas and their stupid, stupid actors.
Dean sighed and shifted to stretch out somewhat more comfortably on the seat.
To be honest, the back seat of his car was large, but not quite large enough for someone of his size to genuinely stretch out. But he wriggled, and grabbed Cas and scooted him around so things were the most agreeable.
They had gotten more or less dressed, but then both had lacked the will to venture outside the car.
“So,” said Dean, as Cas looked up at his own hands. “You done it in the back seat of a car before?”
“Yes.”
Dean blinked. “What?” Even after spending a great deal of time rearranging Cas, he now pulled him around again so Dean could look in his eyes. “You don’t remember anything, but you remember that?”
Cas almost smirked. “Perhaps it was memorable? I think I used to hitchhike.”
“Really?”
Cas nodded. “I’m pretty sure-“ But then the car bucked, and he was nearly thrown from Dean’s lap.
“What the fuck?” asked Dean.
“I think we’ve reached open water,” said Cas, as the vehicle lurched again. Before Dean could grab on to him, Cas had slipped off and opened the door. There was another wave, and Dean bonked his head. “OW!”
“You might wanna get out of the car,” Cas laughed. “Could you toss me my shoes?” Dean did so, aiming for Cas’s head. The laughing angel easily ducked.
“Ah, I thought I might find you gentlemen somewhere in the vicinity,” smiled Balthazar as Cas rooted around for where his shoes had rolled to.
“Some powers of deduction. This is the only damn car on the boat!” sniffed Dean, who was trying to sit on the running board where the door was opened and pull his socks on, but having little luck with it.
“What did you want, Balthazar?” asked Castiel.
Balthazar put a hand on his shoulder. “I am afraid I may have told a teeny tiny lie. I came aboard partially to exercise my wind power, which is fabulous. But I also have some things I’d like to tell you, Cassie. And I wanted a bit of privacy, away from angelic ears, to do it.”
“Like what?”
Balthazar flicked his eyes over to Dean, and then looked back at Castiel.
“Anything you tell me, Dean can know as well,” Cas told Balthazar.
Some years ago….
Castiel stood alone on the rooftop in Seattle, smoking a cigarette.
It was one year, to the day, after they had all assembled here for the very first time.
He had lost track of Gabriel and Balthazar some months ago, around the time Gabriel had promised to do some mysterious “job” for Lucifer.
He hadn't bothered to reconnect with them. The feeling of emptiness had finally boiled up inside, overwhelming him. He needed something else. Perhaps it was just to go back to being an angel, although, to be frank, that fate didn't much appeal.
Nothing much appealed.
Or perhaps he had just picked up on the vague sense of anxiety that was now roiling through humanity. Nobody was certain how it originated. Nothing was going wrong. Or at least more wrong than usual. Yes, wars were fought, and there was injustice. But why were people stockpiling firearms, storing away canned goods, constructing new fallout shelters? It didn't make sense.
Cas hadn't quite followed Michael's entreaty to walk the earth, although he had seen a good portion of the United States now. A little while after separating from Gabriel and Balthazar, he had taken to hitchhiking. He wasn't certain why he found this appealing, but he did. The open road didn't fill the empty space in his heart, but perhaps it lessened the ache. He had come upon a cheap suit in a Good Will store, and now wore that when he thumbed a ride. Drivers often took him for some kind of missionary, and he did not disabuse them of the notion. Sometimes he would even get a home cooked meal out of the deal. A lot of humans were supportive of doing God's work, it appeared, even if they were a little fuzzy as to what precisely this entailed.
Purely by happenstance, he sometimes ran into his brethren on the road. These encounters had not all been happy ones. As Balthazar had figured out their very first day on earth, they were currently trapped in human bodies, and divested of most of the powers they had grown used to. However, all of them seemed to have been granted a new power, and each appeared to be unique.
And, being angels, once they had recognized and mastered these powers, they used them to settle petty quarrels amongst themselves.
And there were always petty quarrels.
Raphael, for example, was capable of an electrical attack that resembled a small lightning strike. Balthazar could cause a windstorm. Gabriel had some kind of deadly sonic blast, which was unfortunately difficult to aim, creating the potential of collateral damage. He didn’t appear to care. Michael could harness water. He was very powerful, but at a loss if his opponent was neither standing near a body of water, or there was a low humidity in the area that day.
As for Cas’s power, he didn’t like to use it, as it frankly scared the shit out of him. It was just as well. Despite being a soldier of the Lord, he had never cared much for fighting his own brothers. And so he had mostly avoided them.
“Hello, Castiel.”
Cas hadn’t heard Lucifer arrive, but here he was, along with Raphael and Chazaquiel, who stood back. Raphael was glaring, and the albino, Chazaquiel, was grinning. Lucifer, as he inevitably did, looked earnest.
Cas arched an eyebrow and offered the cigarette pack to Lucifer, who waved him off. “Tsk. Still on the cancer sticks I see. Why are you here so early?”
“I don’t mind waiting,” said Cas.
“Ah. You were one of the Grigori, weren’t you?” Cas nodded. “Yes, one of the watchers. A little on the boring side, I’d think? So, what have you been up to?”
Cas stared at Raphael and Chazaquiel in turn. “Following Michael’s directive. Walking the earth.”
“Oh? And what have you concluded?”
“I like Marlboros,” said Cas, flicking ashes and blowing smoke in Lucifer’s general direction.
“Well, I have come to my own conclusion. Did you wish me to share?”
“You have always had a contempt for humanity,” said Cas.
“Castiel, Castiel, Castiel,” cooed Lucifer, taking Cas by the shoulder. Cas squirmed, but failed to break Lucifer’s grip.
“Let go, Lucifer.”
“Our elder brother is correct, in a sense,” Lucifer whispered. “It is clear we were put here for a purpose. And I have divined just what that is.” And then he held up a small test tube.
“What’s in the shiny, shiny tube, Luci?” asked Chazaquiel, laughing.
“Our Father’s final judgment,” said Lucifer, holding it up. “Something your brother Gabriel fetched me. Though he really has no idea what it is. A virus. Cooked up in a lab so it’s perfect. There’s no resistance, nothing to stop it once it gets out.”
Castiel wrested himself free of Lucifer. “Lucifer, don’t.”
“Tsk, Castiel. You shouldn’t get distracted by trivialities.”
“Trivialities? You are speaking of genocide.”
“Well, I didn’t think you would be on board. You disappoint me. But then, you’ve always been a disappointment, to everyone, haven’t you?” said Lucifer, stepping back. He raised his hand.
“You can’t do this. Are you insane?”
“Oh, then this will be a bit of fun.” And then Lucifer waved a hand, and suddenly there was a light, brighter than any supernova.
Cas was already countering, conjuring a darkness every bit as deep and empty as Lucifer’s light was bright. “Lucifer! There are people in this building!” he called.
“Then they’ll get a show, won’t they?”
He was hit with a jolt as Raphael added to the attack with an electrical charge.
Cas powered up, bleeding it all away, the light and electricity, and desperately trying to keep the darkness harnessed.
It wasn’t the nature of his power that scared him the most. It was his lack of control. The very first time, Cas had knocked over a tractor-trailer. He hadn’t meant to. He had just been trying to hold off Raphael when he had run into him and Chazaquiel by chance in the middle of nowhere. The truck had gone rolling, over and over and over, groaning and buckling, the contents scattering by the roadside as it split open. There had been no one inside, but Cas vowed to himself then and there never to use his powers in a populated area.
The rooftop had started to tremble.
“He can’t hold off all of us,” Raphael barked. “Chazaquiel!”
“Raphael! No!” Cas shouted in vain. “Lucifer!” The building rocked.
And then Chazaquiel, lazy grin on his albino face, joined in too, with his weird star power, molten light and heat all slamming in to Cas. Cas stepped back, and once again stepped up the darkness, creating a hollow where nothing escaped.
“Fuck,” said Chazaqiel as the ground beneath them bucked and roiled.
“Keep going!” said Lucifer.
Cas felt it. It was too powerful for the building to support.
“The building is collapsing!” said Chazaquiel.
“Keep going!” screamed Lucifer.
Cas thought of the humans down below, working in the office building, walking in the street. He felt the foundations crack.
He cut it off.
Light and color returned.
The three powers all hit him full force. He sunk to his knees, expecting to die.
“Stop!” ordered Lucifer. He went over and grabbed the smaller angel by the shoulders. And then he twisted.
Castiel cried out, in the worst pain he’d ever felt, the breath crushed out of him.
“You like your humans?” asked Lucifer. “Then here. Go join them. Be my guest.” And then, as Raphael watching in fascination and Chazaquiel chuckled, Lucifer wrested Castiel from the ground and summarily tossed him over the side of the building. There was a distant splash.
And then Lucifer took the test tube, and flung it after him. “Enjoy watching the ruined world, Castiel. Enjoy watching them dying.”
“Lucifer! What the blazes is going on?” demanded Michael, who had just arrived on the rooftop along with Gabriel and several other angels. “We saw the light. Were you three fighting?”
“Of course not. We three are best friends.”
“Lucifer,” said Gabriel.
“We were just going,” said Lucifer, nodding to Raphael and Chazaquiel. “Coming, Gabriel?”
“What's going on?” Gabriel asked.
“We're going,” said Lucifer. It sounded like an order. Gabriel hastened after him.
“Gabriel!” said Michael. “You walk out now, you are not welcome to come back.”
Gabriel looked around uncertainly, and then fled after Lucifer and his cronies.
The present day....
Balthazar leaned forward and extended a graceful hand towards Castiel, who held out the cigarette packet. Balthazar took one cigarette, and then Cas tossed him a book of matches.
They were sitting inside the glassed in portion of the observation deck astern. It was growing dark, so it was a little too cold to stand outside.
“How did you find this out?” asked Cas.
“You mean the last bit?” asked Balthazar. “Chazaquiel. Always got chatty when you got him drinking. I worried about you when you didn’t show up in Michael’s group, because I couldn’t imagine you going off with Lucifer. Yes, I do worry about my baby brother, on occasion. I know as an angel I should be more of a prick. It’s a fault.”
“We are dark things,” said Castiel. Dean, sitting beside him, put a hand on his back, feeling the angel tremble beneath him. “Dark and terrible things.”
“Not so terrible as you suppose, little one,” said Balthazar.
Dean leaned forward. “So, Balthy, you’re saying Lucifer started the Croatoan outbreak.” Balthazar nodded. Dean flicked his eyes over to Gabriel, who was looking away.
“Yeah, but who made the virus? Not angels,” said Sam, who was perched uncomfortably next to the door. He looked pale and sweaty. He had been suffering intermittently from seasickness since they hit open water, and was ready to bolt outside when his stomach reeled.
“Sam is correct,” said Balthazar. “It was a project of the defense department.”
“I don’t understand,” Cas was saying, shaky hands on a cigarette now. “Why didn’t I die?”
“You must’ve gone into the river,” muttered Gabriel. He had been uncharacteristically quiet during Balthazar's story.
“But from that height…” Cas started. He shook his head. Dean grabbed the cigarette from him and lit it himself. “I should be dead.”
“No you shouldn’t,” said Dean, handing over the cigarette. “You should be alive. You should be here.”
“I’ve already heard this story,” said Robert, who was sitting in a corner, drink in his hand.
“How the hell did you do that, Robert?” asked Dean. “You’re not an angel, are you?”
“No. It was one of the last scripts,” said Robert. “We never filmed it, but we were all there, so they did a table read. It was unusual, because things were so bad we were just getting scripts on the day we filmed the show.”
“And there was a conclave about a killer virus?” asked Dean.
“It was a medical show, remember. And they made it demons, not angels. I told you about our sponsors freaking out, right? Mac and Sylvia really wanted to do it. It just never got finished. So I don’t know how it ended.”
Benny stormed into the room. “We’re landing!” he announced.
“Excellent!” said Dean, standing up.
“Do I have permission to bite Captain Fitzgerald in his idiot neck?” Benny grumbled.
“No,” said Dean dryly.
“Damn,”
“Not till we’ve landed.”
Benny grinned.
Cas rose to go outside on the deck. Gabriel stood up as well. “Cas…” he began.
Castiel glared at him and stormed out, slamming the door after him.
“Gabriel, for the last time, no, we cannot go by Kurt Cobain’s house,” grumbled Dean. He was puttering around his car, carefully checking for any damage she may have sustained during the part of the journey on the high seas.
“But we’re already in Aberdeen!” whined Gabriel.
“We gotta worry about Sam's suicidal writer asshole before we worry about a suicidal grunge musician asshole,” Dean reasoned.
“Aw, c'mon Dean! Grunge was an art form! Tell him, Cas,” said Gabriel. Castiel looked daggers at Gabriel, and then turned around and stormed off.
“C'mon, Cassie! We're immortal. You gotta talk to me sometime!” Gabriel shouted after him. “Will you reason with him, Dean?”
“Reason with him?” asked Dean. “You're lucky we didn't toss you off the fucking boat. Didn't you think of asking Lucifer what he wanted that virus for?”
Gabriel stared at the ground. “Lucifer wanted a lot of things. I also gave him vitamins! Maybe he wanted to improve the lot of mankind. Like make licorice whips more nutritious, so you could live off 'em!”
Dean didn't answer, he just stared.
“OK, so maybe it wasn't my best decision making. But, look. If your brother asked for something, wouldn't you give it to him?”
“My brother isn't Lucifer,” said Dean with a great scowl.
“So, OK. But I'm on your side now, right? I mean, I helped you with the zombies. And the tar monsters.”
“You know,” said Dean, letting the hood shut with a slam that made Gabriel jump. “Here's what I think. I think you knew damn well something bad was going down. I think you suspected it was Lucifer who hurt Cas. I think that's why you feel so fucking guilty, so you're trying to help.” Gabriel didn't reply. “Gabriel. Isn't it obvious? Lucifer knew the only one among you who had the balls and the power to oppose him was Cas. That's why he and his stooges took him out.”
“Yeah. Maybe,” Gabriel admitted.
“And now the bastard has the only antidote tied up.” Dean sighed. “Look, Gabe, why did Lucifer have you do his dirty work, anyway? Sounds like he's got other guys.”
“I'm best at being sneaky and underhanded,” Gabriel explained with an undeniable note of pride.
“Yeah. Great,” said Dean. He looked up to see Benny approaching.
“You sure I can’t come along, man?” sighed Benny.
“Benny! Dude, we talked about this.” Dean wiped a greasy hand across his forehead. Gabriel arched an eyebrow and handed over a towel. “If Lucifer’s guys find the ship in this harbor, she’s gonna be a sitting duck. Garth is gonna take the boat back out to wait for us, and he needs a crew. And you’re the only person, supernatural or not, who’s got his sea legs.”
“But there ain’t even any nice ground out there,” said Benny. “What if I get injured?”
“Look, you got a few minutes, why don’t you guys grab some shovels and go dig up a crate full of delicious topsoil for you to take along?” Dean asked with a shudder.
“So who’s going?” asked Gabriel.
“Sam and me. And Cas,” said Dean, as Cas had just come back over, along with Sam and Robert.
“Are you sure you want me, Dean?” asked Cas, who had been in a bit of an angel funk after hearing Balthazar's story.
Dean approached the Cas, placing his hands on his shoulders. “Of course we want you along. I want you along.”
“Oh, do we have to hear this? Just kiss already,” grumble Gabriel.
Dean cast an annoyed glance at Gabriel, and then, with a mischievous smile, turned back and landed a kiss on a very surprised Cas.
“OK, no more arguments, you’re going,” Dean told Cas, now winking triumphantly at a speechless Gabriel.
“Well, I should go too,” said Gabriel, recovering quickly.
“No,” said Cas.
“No, you’re not going,” said Dean.
“Cas! I didn’t know about the Lucifer stuff! I swear. I mean,” Gabriel added, looking at Dean. “Maybe I should have. But I didn't.”
“No,” said Cas stubbornly.
“I think I should go,” said Robert quietly.
“Yeah, Dean,” said Sam grudgingly. “I agree. I think Robert should come with us.” Robert smiled gratefully at Sam.
“Well, you’re the prophet,” said Dean, thumping Sam on the shoulder. “OK, you guys. We’re giving ourselves 72 hours. If we don’t make the rendezvous, you head back to the other Vancouver.”
And then, after an uncomfortable round of hugs from Captain Fitzgerald, they were off.
They ran into trouble sooner rather than later. Since Dean had wanted to check out his car before they set off, this meant it was getting dark by the time they got underway, and for whatever reason, the shuffling Croats seemed to prefer moving by night. They had all become accustomed to the relatively safe roadways they had experienced on the Canadian side of the border, so Dean wasn’t prepared to encounter their first crop of the undead less than 20 miles from port, on a section of road that had been, unluckily, blocked by debris.
On the other hand, he was truly impressed with his current team. Though he missed having Benny fighting at his side, but Sam turned out to be deadly with a pickaxe, and Robert seemed to have learned a little about hand to hand combat (and not the kind where you call a stunt man) during his time alone in Vancouver, as he was fearlessly clubbing zombies.
And Cas was of course amazing with the sword. Although, sadly, he couldn't seem to recall how to utilize his power once they had cleared the zombies and it was time to push away the wrecked cars blocking the roadway aside. For that they had ended up using the Impala's push-bar and old fashioned sweat.
Exhausted, Dean decided to pause for a brief rest a few miles up the road. Sam, who was getting mightily impatient, protested vigorously, even though he had been too seasick to sleep onboard the ferry. Dean insisted and, after Sam and Robert were settled down, asked that Cas take sentry duty with him. “Dude, you gotta remember how to use that funky black hole power,” he told Cas as soon as the others were squared away in sleeping bags.
“Dean, you heard Balthazar. And I am beginning to remember as well. My power is dangerous.”
“Well, first off, you don’t know that, because Lucifer hurt you,” said Dean, wincing as he remembered the terrible bruises on Cas’s back. “And secondly, look, it sounds like your brothers are all a bunch of loose nukes as well.”
“That is not a comforting way to express it.”
“I assume you’ve heard of mutually assured destruction?”
“Yes. From the Twentieth Century. The acronym, in case you do not remember, was M.A.D.” Cas shot Dean an accusing glance.
“You managed when you thought Sam was in danger,” Dean said quietly. Cas looked up at Dean in surprise, but then tried to cover it in a shrug. “We're gonna need you up and running before this is done. Remember, we still have to find a way to get to Seattle to grab the antidote. That means confronting your brother again.”
Cas nodded. He heard a loud sound and looked over. Sam was sawing wood.
“This might be good,” said Dean. “He snores when he's doing the vision thing.”
“So why is Robert snoring?” asked Cas with a slight smile.
“Why am I here? In a hospital? And why am I in a lab coat?”
“Uh. I think you’re in my show, dude,” laughed Robert, who looked very comfortable in his own lab coat and scrubs. One might even say, he looked sexy.
“And why am I having a dream here?” asked Sam as some gossiping nurses walked past him. “I hate this show! Uh, I mean, no offense.”
Robert looked around. “OK, I think I know what to do. Follow me.” He stormed off a few steps, and then turned and looked back at Sam. “Uh, the deal is, we gotta go together. We do a walk and talk.”
“A walk and talk?”
Robert tilted his head in a “come on” gesture, and Sam began to walk with him. “See,” said Robert, “when you’re doing an expository dialog scene, sometimes it can get really boring if you have two people just sit down and talk.”
“OK,” said Sam, dodging around a group of extras rushing a patient along on a stretcher.
“So to make it dynamic, you just have guys storm down a hallway, and also crank up the dialog speed. Get it?”
“Uh. Got it.”
“Good, now, here’s what I think we do. We negotiate this corridor, and then we can get to the end of this set and into the studio.”
“It’s not a hospital?” Sam fiddled with the stethoscope around his neck.
“I’ve never worked at a hospital, dude. I’m an actor, remember?”
A young woman wearing, inevitably, scrubs and a lab coat, approached Robert and Sam. “Oops,” Robert whispered to Sam. “I need to stop and confront this one. We were sort of having an affair.”
“What?” asked Sam, who didn’t recognize the actress, as she looked to him exactly like all the other actresses on the show, all collagen and Botox.
“Doctor!” she said.
“Doctor,” said Robert.
“Doctor,” she told Sam, although she kept her eyes fixed on Robert.
“Uh. Yeah. Doctor,” said Sam, who flipped off his stethoscope and tried to tuck it in a pants pocket, only to discover that scrub pants don’t have pockets.
“We need to talk, Doctor,” said the young woman.
“Yes we do. But I have a pressing concern right now.” Robert looked at Sam. “We have a potentially suicidal patient.”
The young actress threw back her head, tossing her long brown hair. “Ha. That’s a laugh.”
“Well, actually, no it isn’t. She wrote a bunch of your best lines, so you should probably show some respect.”
“What?”
“Come on,” Robert told Sam. “We don’t have much time.” He strode forward again, and Sam, unwilling to mess up the walk and talk, scurried after him, adding an, “Uh, bye, Doctor!” to the young lady.
“Such a scenery chewer,” muttered Robert. “OK, here we go, through this way.” Sam followed Robert into what looked like a broom closet, but instead, the door opened onto a huge room with prefab metal walls that looked like an aircraft hangar.
“The studio?” asked Sam. But Robert had broken out into a run. “Hey, I can’t talk and run!” Sam shouted after him. Though it was a large space, there were at least as many obstacles as had been in the hospital set, people pushing bits of scenery around on trolleys and hauling around props.
Sam, who was a little out of breath, ran to where Robert was now opening an external door. “Dude, I see where you honed your zombie dodging skills,” he breathed as Robert threw open a door. Sam expected to see sunlight, but it was somewhat darker outside.
“Vancouver, always gets so freaking cold this time of year,” Robert complained as he stormed outside.
Sam, who was used to being plagued by zombies more than being followed by television production people, peered carefully outside the door before following the actor. He wished he had grabbed something he could use as a weapon.
There was an expanse of well-trimmed lawn nearby, and a few picnic tables. A familiar redhead sat at a picnic table, bundled up under many layers of clothing, typing on a noisy old manual typewriter. Robert now stood beside her. Casting one more look around, Sam approached them.
“Sylvia. Where’s Mac?” Robert was asking.
“He went away,” said Sylvia sadly, not looking up from her typing.
“I’m sorry.”
“I wish he had made it. It was bad. Like losing Cam.”
“Hey, Sylvia,” said Sam. “We met before I guess.”
“Hello, Sam,” she said, still hunched over her typewriter.
“Look, we’re coming, like I promised,” Sam told her. “Can you, uh, tell us where you are?”
“I’m here,” she said. “Working. Like always.”
“OK, not helpful,” said Sam, sitting down opposite. He noticed the pill bottle, sitting next to the typewriter.
“Syl,” said Robert, now leaning over her. “Is that a script?”
“Don’t touch it!” she cried as Robert suddenly leaned over and ripped the sheet from the typewriter. He threw it on the table. Sam looked at it. It looked like a legal document.
“This is a will,” said Sam, who reached over and grabbed the pill bottle, snapping off the top and upturning it on the table.
It was empty.
“Syl,” said Robert, as she collapsed back into his arms. “How many did you take?”
“I had enough,” she told him. “I always had enough.”
Robert shook her. “FUCK! You’re not gonna die. Where are you?”
“I’ll already be dead.”
“No! Sylvia,” said Sam. “You don’t understand. We need help. We need your help. I’m like you, OK? I understand. I understand that it sucks. Help me. Even if it’s the last thing you do.” He reached over and gripped her hands, concentrating. “Where are you? Tell me where you are.”
Suddenly there was a huge boom, and the ground trembled. They were all thrown to the ground. Sam scrambled to his feet. The landscape had changed. It was a wasteland. His wasteland.
“What the hell,” said Robert, who was still on the ground, holding Sylvia.
“I pulled her into my dream. Look!” He pointed up to a low hill. There was a rambling Victorian mansion up at the top. “Where is this?” asked Sam. There was actually a whole neighborhood below the mansion, many older houses. “Where are we?” asked Sam. He looked around frantically for some landmarks. A dog had come galumphing up to them. “Hey, Max,” he muttered. The dog waddled over and gave Sylvia a great doggie kiss.
The girl, who had been silent for a while, seemed to roused. “Dog?” she asked.
“Where are you?” asked Sam, squatting down to be at eye level.
“Syl,” urged Robert.
“I liked dogs,” said Sylvia groggily.
“This is Max,” said Sam.
“Oh, I live right near the MAX station,” giggled Sylvia.
“The Max?” asked Sam.
“Light rail. She lives near a light rail station,” said Robert as Sylvia collapsed again.
Sam woke and untangled from his sleeping bag. “We gotta go!” he said, rousing Robert beside him. “Dean! Cas! We gotta go! Now!”
“It’s still dark, Sammy,” said Dean.
“We found her,” Sam told him as Robert came awake. “We gotta go. Now!”
