A Canticle for Dr. Sexy (Chapter 5 of 6)
Nov. 29th, 2012 05:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: A Canticle for Dr. Sexy (Chapter 5 of 6)
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikific
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam, Benny, Chuck, Bobby, Missouri, Pamela, Lenore, Michael, Gabriel, Lucifer, Balthazar, Garth
Warnings: Cursing. Suicidal ideation.
Word Count: ~50,000
Summary: The Croatoan virus has brought down civilization as we know it. Dean Winchester, leader of a motley band of survivors, is searching for volume 25 the Video Safari limited edition box set of Dr. Sexy MD when he stumbles into Cas, an amnesiac grubbing for a can of beans at an abandoned Piggly Wiggly. Together with his brother, Sam, who may be a prophet of the Lord, and some friends they meet along the way, they embark on a cross-country road trip to find a cure for the virus and save humanity. But the journey takes our heroes straight into the middle of an angelic feud.
Notes: Set Post-Croatoan outbreak. The compound is based on the Greenbrier, a real resort. This one owes a huge debt to Zombieland, and also a to Vertigo comics.
Sam peered nervously from the passenger seat. He occasionally closed his eyes and tried to fix in his brain the brief glimpse of Sylvia’s house in Vancouver he had received in his dream.
In the back seat, Robert, who had never quite woken up, leaned against a rather tolerant Cas’s shoulder and snored. “You can push him over,” Dean told him, addressing the rear view mirror.
Cas, who had been staring out the window, worried look affixed to his face, shrugged and continued regarding the passing scenery.
“We’re getting near Vancouver city limits,” Dean told Sam needlessly.
“Hey, is that rail tracks?” asked Sam, who nearly stood up to point.
“OK, so we’re looking for a station?” Dean asked, even though Sam had told him this a dozen times already. He had rarely seen his younger brother so intense.
“Yeah, follow the tracks.” Dean guided the car towards the light rail line, and they soon found themselves at a station with a big MAX sign overhead.
Sam hopped out before the car had even come to a halt.
“Careful! Watch for Croats!” Dean shouted.
Sam pointed up the hill. “There it is! That’s it.”
“Whoa, Addams Family,” snarked Dean.
Robert had also stumbled out of the car, rubbing his eyes. “Uhhh. Is that what I think it is?” he asked, also pointing up the hill.
“What?” asked Dean, who squinted. There were a lot of moving objects visible on the roadway below the mansion. “Shit! A nest of Croats? We don’t have time! Cas!” he barked, turning to the angel.
“Dean.”
“We need you to figure out your damn creepy dark smoke thing attack. Now!”
Cas looked like he was going to argue, but then dipped his head in agreement. “OK.”
They hopped back into the car and Dean peeled off towards the roadway leading up the hill. Dean skidded to a halt not far from where a group of Croats was milling around. Hearing the engine’s roar, they oriented towards the car and started to move towards it.
Cas grabbed the door handle. “Stay inside,” he muttered. And then he was outside, standing on the hood.
“Oh, don’t get footprints on baby,” sighed Dean, who nonetheless looked worried. Cas pulled his katana from its scabbard on his back, and then stood with it, eyes squeezed shut, apparently concentrating as the Croats stopped ambling and began to charge. And there were more of them on the way, coming out from behind houses and shrubbery.
“What is this, Croat Daytona Beach or something?” asked Sam as more and more emerged from the woodwork.
“There’s more behind us!” said Robert, who was now fully awake.
“Can’t back up,” said Dean. “Great. Cas, what are you waiting for?”
But the angel stood still as a statue up on the hood as the first of them approached. Sam jumped as one pounded on his window. Another was now leaning over the fender, trying to grasp at Cas.
“Cas, hurry it up!” shouted Dean. There was more pounding, and more of them were pouring out from somewhere. “Cas!”
The sword swept. There was a sudden change in air pressure, and Dean slammed his hands over his head as his ears popped.
The Impala lurched, surrounded on all sides by darkness. And then a slam, as if the entire thing had been dropped from a height.
“Cas!” yelled Dean, jumping out of the car.
“Dean, wait!” shouted Sam, grasping at his brother’s arm. Dean choked and was slammed back against the car. But then the darkness slowly evaporated, like a heavy fog slowly lifting. Dean pushed himself to his feet once again and turned to see Cas still standing on the hood, shaking like a leaf. They locked eyes for a moment, And then Dean looked around.
Every single Croat was down.
“Get in, we’re driving!” said Dean. Cas hopped down, and Dean shoved him into the front seat next to Sam, and then jumped into the driver’s seat and roared off once again.
They crested the hill, and squealed into the driveway behind a familiar concrete fence. Sam had the car door opened before they even came to a halt, but it was Robert who charged up to the front door first. “Sylvia! It’s Robert! Let me the fuck in!” he shouted, pounding his fists. He turned. “No answer.”
“Cas. Pop the door,” ordered Dean.
Cas looked at the door and then gave it a big kick, knocking it open.
“Hey,” said Dean, as Robert and Sam rushed inside. “I could have done that.” They shared a small smile, and then followed their friends inside.
Robert was on the floor, cradling a groggy Sylvia, while Sam was tearing around the house. “I need a medicine cabinet,” he said. He ran into a room and then ran back out. “Here. Ipecac. I’ve done this before. Come on!” he ordered Robert. Robert picked up Sylvia and hurried after Sam.
Dean and Cas looked at each other, and then Dean collapsed down on the couch. “Hope we got all the Croats, because that door ain’t fixing itself,” he said.
“You told me to pop it,” said Cas. There was a retching sound coming from the bathroom.
“I thought you had a secret angel mojo thing.”
“For breaking and entering?” asked Cas.
“Hey!” came a yell from Sam. “Can you two assholes make yourselves useful and find the coffee?”
Cas and Dean looked at one another. “Well, come on,” said Dean, heading for the kitchen, “you’re the scrounger.”
“I am an angel.”
“So you have coffee powers?”
“No.” Cas tilted his head. “Do you think she has peanut butter?” he asked.
“Come on. We'll look.”
Sylvia sat on a couch in the living room, wrapped up in a blanket. She had insisted, after downing the first few cups, that they make her tea instead of coffee, so she was sipping from a mug with a little tab sticking out of it.
“You had us worried, Syl,” said Robert, who hadn’t left her side.
“I don’t understand why you’re here,” said Sylvia, her voice harsh. She sipped at her tea. “I remember the weird dreams, but I don’t think I can do anything for you. I mean, angels, and Lucifer?”
“We think your dreams meant something.”
“They meant ratings,” sighed Sylvia, setting down the mug. “They meant some people got a paycheck.” She flicked her eyes at Robert, who fussed over the blanket.
“We think the dreams were prophetic,” Sam explained again. “Like mine.”
“It was just a stupid TV show. A really stupid TV show.”
“You have the scripts.”
“Sure.” Sylvia got up, and, adjusting her glasses, walked over to a bay window where an old roll-top desk was wedged. She rolled up the desk, and grabbed some sheafs of paper, which she brought back to the living room and thumped down on the coffee table. “The final scripts.”
Dean dove for them. “Hallelujah!” he yelped, greedily thumbing through them.
“No way,” said Sylvia, staring at Dean. “You’re a Dr. Sexy fan?”
“Um, a guilty pleasure,” said Dean, hugging the scripts to him. “I mean … sorry.”
“No, that show was a piece of shit,” said Sylvia. “Mac just dragged me into it because he was worried about me after Cam … passed away.”
“Cam was your husband?” asked Sam.
Sylvia smiled sadly and, gathing the blanket around her, walked to the hearth, where an array of photographs were scattered. She picked up one and stood, clutching it. Sam walked over to stand near her.
“This looks familiar,” Sam mused, taking the photo.
“We’re at South Lake Union,” she told him. “Up in Seattle. Used to be a factory, but they redid it for the office.”
Sam abruptly dropped the photo and grabbed her shoulders. “Sylvia, what did your husband do?”
Sylvia blinked up, over her eyeglasses at Sam. “Cam? He was CEO of a biotech. That’s how he died.”
“What?” asked Dean.
Sylvia was fighting back tears. “They did research. On the Croatoan virus. You know, for the Defense Department? I told him and told him not to do it. He seemed obsessed. It was supposed to be secret, he couldn’t even tell me what he was doing. But word got out. And one day, on the way to work they shot him. They shot him on the street. In cold blood. And he was gone. And he was the cause all of this. All of this.”
“No,” said Sam. “He didn’t cause any of it. He wasn’t working on the virus. He was working on the cure.”
Cas had wandered over and picked up the photo Sam had dropped. He was now staring at it. “What was your husband’s name?” he asked.
“Cam?” said Sylvia.
“Cameron, right?” said Dean.
“No. It was Camael actually. His parents were religious or something.”
“Were you aware your husband was an angel?” asked Cas. Sylvia’s jaw dropped. Cas held up the picture. “This is my older brother.”
Sylvia sunk back down on the couch next to Robert. “Cam was another angel?” Robert asked Cas. “Just how many of you guys are down here?”
“That is a good question,” Castiel agreed. “My memories are still incomplete, but I doubt they would be of much help. I was not very highly ranked up there, nor very powerful, so I was mostly ignored. I do recall Camael, however. He tried for a time to calm the feuding between Michael and Lucifer. Of course, he was spectacularly unsuccessful.”
Sylvia was staring off into the distance. “I never had any idea. But I didn’t begin dreaming of angel stories until after he died.”
“Sylvia, would Cam have kept anything here from his company: records, papers?” asked Sam.
She nodded. “We could look in his office. I haven't gone in there since he....” She trailed off.
Sam, Robert and Cas followed her upstairs to a locked room, while Dean went to fire up the generator. Sylvia took out a set of keys and opened the door. The smell was a little musty, as if it hadn't been opened for a while.
They heard a small hum, and then the overhead lights went on.
Sam ran over to the computer, plugged it into a power board, and clicked it on. “We’ll hope it didn’t get scrambled with all the power outages,” he said, staring at the screen. He looked up. “This might take a while. We’ve gotta root around to look for the right….”
“What?” asked Dean, who had just arrived in the doorway. Sam simply turned the screen around so they all could see.
There was one file on the desktop, marked, “SYL.”
“Uh, I guess that’s for me?” said Sylvia, who had been hovering in the doorway.
“Click on it,” Dean told Sam.
“It’s a dot-MOV. A video.”
Sam clicked on the mouse. The screen flipped over to a video of a dark-haired, dark-eyed man sitting behind the desk. Everyone, including Sylvia, huddled around.
“Cam,” said Sylvia, brushing her fingers across the screen. “That's him.”
“Syl,” said the man on camera. “If you’re seeing this, then I must be dead. I tried to protect you, my dear, from the moment a realized who you were. You might say, I had one job. And I blew it. I’m sorry. I am so sorry. But now there is something I need you to do.
“But first I need to explain: I’m not what I appear to be. I’ve lied to you all these years. You’d never believe me if I told you the whole story, but let me put it this way: I’m not entirely human. And the place I’m from, well, I heard about a terrible thing some people were meaning to do. So I gave up everything, absolutely everything, in order to be able to stop it. But it was all worth it. I met you. You are my heart, Syl. You are everything.”
Sylvia was now openly weeping. Robert moved over and put a tentative hand on her shoulder. She gripped it and sobbed.
“But now I have to ask you to do something for me. Something very important. As you know, we’ve been working for the Defense Department. Not many people know this, but they’ve been developing a lethal virus. If the virus gets out, it could potentially wipe out mankind. I’m not exaggerating. I’ve seen the effects.
“We’ve been working on the antidote here. It’s a biological agent. That’s good news. All we need to do is release it, and nature will do the rest. But I've heard word lately that there's a group of … being conspiring to destroy all our work.
“No one knows this Sylvia, no one but you: I have samples of the antidote in our SLU headquarters. But here's the catch: it's locked up, not just with human security systems, I've also used some magical tricks. No other being, human or supernatural, is going to be able to get in and touch it. It means it's safe for now.
“As for how to get in, if it's needed, Syl, that's all up to you. You already have the key, you and no one else. Use your gifts.
“Sorry this is so short. And I'm sorry, but after you see this, the file is gonna delete itself. Remember what I've said. I love you, Syl. Please, baby, be well.” And then the picture blinked out. Sam was already typing frantically at the computer, but he stopped and sighed.
“Damn, it self-destructed. I'm sorry!”
“Fucking Mission Impossible fan, now what are we gonna do?” asked Dean.
“Sylvia is a prophet of the Lord,” said Cas. “The secret has already been revealed to her.”
“My prophecies are all stupid stories for that stupid show,” snapped Sylvia.
“And we’ve all seen the shows a million times,” said Sam. “I can't think of anything relevant to breaking into a pharmaceutical company, can you?”
“But we haven’t seen the last episodes!” said Dean.
“So, we need to pore through those scripts?” asked Sam. He sighed. “I suppose that's a possibility.”
“Hey, I have a great idea,” said Robert. “What if we do a table read?”
“I’m sorry?” said Sam.
“You take the scripts and just sit around the table and read them,” sighed Sylvia, wiping tears from he eyes. “It’s like a very early rehearsal.”
“You would read Dr. Sexy?” Dean asked Robert. Dean looked as if he might faint from happiness.
“Yeah, I think I could manage,” Robert grinned.
“Look, won’t this take a lot of time?” asked Sam. “We gotta get back to Aberdeen, before our ride sails off again. Maybe it would be better if we split up and read through them?”
“It will be worth it!” Robert told them. “Believe me. These scripts, they’re nothing on the page. You need to hear them, in the voices. That’s when they come alive! If we’re looking for a message, that’s gonna be how it pops out at you.”
“Robert,” said Sylvia. “It will be nothing but a gigantic waste of time. These scripts are crap!”
“Sylvia, goddammit, stop it right now,” Robert snapped at her. “These shows were really fucking important for a lot of people. Dean told me they used to drive all over the place, through Croat infestations, just to look for missing volumes! And the angels up in Vancouver have weekly viewing parties!”
“The angels watch this stuff?” Sylvia asked.
Robert was still on a rant. “I’m sorry about Cam, Syl. I’m so sorry. But I’m sick and tired of your elitist attitude! You think Shakespeare was writing for a bunch of overprivileged damn college freshmen? No! He was writing for the people. And that’s what Dr. Sexy is meant for. I’ve never been so proud of any work I’ve ever done in my whole career!”
Sylvia laughed, looking at Robert like she was seeing him for the very first time. “You mean that, Robert? Even that tractor trailer safety training film?”
Robert cracked a smile. “Yeah, even that.”
She smiled. “OK. Let’s do it. We’ll use the dining room table.”
“Can I play Dr. Hunnicutt?” asked Dean as they made for the dining room.
Everyone assembled around a large, antique dining room table, Sam, Dean and Cas carefully setting their weapons down on the floor below. Sylvia walked around passing out script copies to everyone. “This first act is hospital personnel. Robert is Dr. Sexy of course, and you wanted Dr. Hunnicutt, Dean?”
“Yeah!” said Dean, grabbing a script and Sam fought down the urge to vomit. “He has a secret passion for Dr. Pierce!”
“I don’t even know who these people are,” sighed Sam.
“You can be Dr. Forester,” Sylvia told him, “the brash young physician with a secret passion for Dr. Gilmore.”
“Hey, do all these guys have secret passions for each other?” asked Sam.
“Yeah, they do. I can play the minor female roles, but my voice is kind of out of it after the coffee and the … purging.” Sylvia brought her hand up to her throat. “Cas, can you play Dr. Lindley, the doctor with the secret passion for Dr. Hunnicutt?”
Cas scowled at her. “You wish me to play a female role?” he growled.
Sam coughed to stifle a laugh. “Uh, yeah, Cas, I think you’d do a wonderful job.” Sylvia looked over at Sam and winked, and then sat down with her own script. She looked around. “So, you wanna give it a go?”
Robert cleared his throat and smiled around the table, causing everyone, including Sam, to smile back. “Doctor!” he barked.
“Doctor!” answered Dean.
“Uh, Doctor,” sighed Sam. There was a pause.
Sam elbowed Cas.
“Doctor?” growled Cas.
Sam and Sylvia both coughed very, very loudly.
After they had plowed through the first two scripts without any divine revelations, Sylvia pleaded for a break to fix more tea. While Sam and Dean were in the living room bickering about the most efficient way of fixing the front door, Sylvia placed a kettle on the small camp stove she was using in the kitchen. “Cas, would you mind?” she asked, pointing to a nearby window.
The angel went to the window and returned to his line of questioning. “I have not failed to notice the frequency of unrequited love situations amongst the characters on your show,” he said, pulling on the sash. The window creaked open a crack.
Sylvia cast a glance over at Robert, who had come to sit on the kitchen counter. “Love is very important,” she explained. “People find it intriguing.”
“This is what people care about?” asked Cas.
“Yeah. But unfortunately, you have to put obstacles in the way. Otherwise, you don’t have a story.”
“People do not wish to see a love that is mutual?” asked Cas.
“Well,” said Sylvia, leaning back against the counter. “People tend to think that’s the end of the story. Finding love. Now me,” she continued, looking over to Robert again, “I think it’s the beginning.” They smiled at each other, and Sylvia blushed.
“Humans think love is important?”
“Yeah, it’s the most important thing. You die without it. But, I think I’m supposed to be resting my voice,” she said, patting her throat.
“Sylvia always wrote from the heart. That’s why viewers responded,” said Robert. Sylvia shook her head and went into the pantry to retrieve a box of tea bags.
“You are very well provisioned,” said Cas, looking around the pantry and perhaps remembering his days scrounging.
“Cam insisted. I thought he was nuts, but I guess he knew. I have enough here to live for years.”
“But you did not wish to live because you had lost your love?” asked Cas.
“Cas!” scolded Robert.
“No, it’s OK,” Sylvia told Robert. “Cam – or Camael I guess – was like a soulmate. When he … died, I felt like part of me died too.”
“Don’t angels love?” asked Robert. “I know they can feud!”
“That is all based on love,” said Cas. “We all had a great abiding love of our Father. And Lucifer was always the best loved in return. They said he was the most beautiful of us all.” Cas frowned.
Robert and Sylvia looked at each other. “But you didn’t like him, did you?” asked Robert.
“No,” answered Cas. “Perhaps I am stupid. That is always what the others have said. Anyway, when our Father brought forth Mankind, and told us you were now his most beloved, that was when Lucifer and Michael’s disagreement became more vehement. He was-“
“A spoiled brat,” said Sylvia.
“It sounds like your monologue, Sylvia,” said Robert. “You know, from Episode 547?”
Sylvia smiled sadly. “We leaked that part, didn’t we?” She left the kitchen and came back holding a script. She flipped through the pages, pushing her glasses down her nose and squinting. “Here it is. You wanna say it, Robert? I need tea.” She handed the script off to Robert and turned to the wailing kettle to pour boiling water over her tea bag.
Robert cleared his throat. “That’s what you forget, Doctor. You have an abiding love-” he paused and cast a glance at Sylvia, who shook her head. “You have an abiding love for humanity. But what of the humans? What of us? Love isn’t a general principle. That’s not love. Until you’ve loved one person, one singular, particular person, with all their eccentricities and faults and shortcomings, you haven’t loved. You don’t know love. When you’re down in the trenches, when you’d risk everything for that one person, when you’d dare to be hurt, dare to have your heart cut out, that’s love. That’s what it is to love.”
Sam and Dean had wandered over from fixing the door and now stood in the kitchen doorway, Dean listening raptly to his idol. He offered some applause now. He elbowed Sam who applauded too. Sylvia laughed at them.
“I have just realized why we are here on earth!” said Cas.
“Why is that, honey?” asked Sylvia.
“Our Father put us here to know love!”
“Uh, really Cas?” asked Dean.
Cas's eyes were shining. “It is not enough to simply speak in abstract. I have found love! I love Dean! That was my mission. It was to change my heart.”
There was utter silence for a moment. “Well. Cool!” said Sylvia, noticing the sudden plethora of awkwad males standing around. “Wanna get back to reading?” she asked, grabbing Cas by the elbow and leading him back to the dining room.
Robert paused and patted Dean on his shoulder, and then followed her.
Dean looked as if he might vomit. Or faint. Or perhaps a bit of both.
“You doin’ OK, dude?” Sam asked him.
“Did…. Did I just hear that right?”
“I think the whole room heard it,” laughed Sam. “Look at it this way, though, there’s not that awkwardness where you have to say it back.”
Dean seized Sam by the collar. “What if I do love him back?” he whispered.
“Uh. That’s good?”
“Is it?” said Dean, tightening his grip.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it is,” Sam choked.
Sylvia was already passing out scripts when Sam finally hauled a still somewhat shell-shocked Dean into the dining room. “We need someone to play the ghost,” she said.
“OK,” said Sam. “I gotta ask. And no offense to you guys. But … a ghost? I mean, seriously!”
“Aw, it’s just part of the show, Sammy,” said Dean.
“But I thought you hated the ghost too!” said Sam, looking accusingly at his brother.
Dean looked sheepish. “We have a ghost,” he told Sylvia.
“Well, yeah, a vengeful spirit,” said Sam.
“You actually know a real spirit?” Sylvia asked, sipping at her tea.
“Yeah, but he's not like this,” said Sam, flipping through the script.
Dean shook his head. “I guess the whole thing kinda sucks, and they tend to get pissy. Our guy mostly destroys stuff. We have to keep him under a whole bunch of different kinds of locks, real and magical, just to confine him.”
Sylvia was staring back and forth between Sam and Dean. “But otherwise he could get anywhere?”
“Pretty much. If Pam and Missiouri hadn't locked him up.”
“And there's no way to get a message to him?” asked Sylvia.
“Why you wanna call a ghost?” asked Dean. “He's mostly in a bad mood anyway.”
“Shit! Dean!” said Sam, tossing down his script. “Bobby can get anywhere! Anywhere anywhere.”
“He can.... Oh!” said Dean, finally getting it.
“You mean to send Bobby to the the pharmaceutical company?” asked Cas, who was also no slouch.
“Yeah! He could open it from the inside,” said Sylvia.
Dean dropped his script on the table. “But I don't know about you guys, they got him locked up tight, and he doesn't exactly have a cell phone.”
“Cas, you can walk in people's dreams, right?” asked Sam.
Cas nodded, thinking it over. “It should probably be Missiouri. I think Pamela is still upset with me.”
“Then we've just gotta get us to Seattle,” said Sam.
“Easier said than done,” said Robert. “Isn't Lucifer still in charge there?”
“Yeah, but I've got a plan,” said Dean, grinning and tapping his forehead.
“You got a plan?” asked Sam.
“Yeah, it's a great one!”
Sam narrowed his eyes. “You mean like Witchita?”
“That was a good plan too!”
The two brothers eyed each other as everyone else around the table looked baffled.
“Uh, anybody else want some tea?” asked Sylvia.
Robert and Sylvia waved from the front porch as Dean backed the Impala out of the driveway.
“You think those two crazy kids will make it?” said Sam after he'd closed the gate and hopped back in the passenger seat.
Dean flicked his eyes into the rear view mirror to watch Cas in the back seat. “Cas pretty much ganked every Croat in a 30 mile radius, so I think they'll be good for now. We'll come back for them after we finish in Seattle,” said Dean.
“If we finish Seattle,” said Sam.
“This is foolproof!” Dean glanced over his shoulder again. “You OK back there?”
“I am fine, thank you, Dean,” Cas quietly assured him.
Sam rolled his eyes, being careful that Dean wasn't watching him. After Cas had announced to the whole world he loved Dean, his brother had initially gotten freakish and awkward, as Sam would have expected. But then he had immediately followed up by growing weird and overprotective, at least to Sam's mind. This was a super-powered being who could create some kind of magical black hole, and now Dean wanted to play doting big brother every time he flashed those big blue eyes? He noticed that when they retired last night, Dean had immediately claimed the guest bedroom with the king sized bed for him and Cas, leaving Sam with his feet hanging off the couch in the upstairs sitting room. It was a comfortable couch, but still.
Sam stared out the window, enjoying a wallow in self-pity. His visions had brought them there, and for what? His dream girl – his literal dream girl, Sylvia – had ended up falling for the star of a ridiculous hospital drama (with ghosts!) and now his brother was besotted with some cigarette-voiced angel.
“So, we gotta play some road games or something to cheer you up?” Dean was asking.
“Huh?” said Sam.
“What is the matter, Dean?” asked Cas.
“He's pouting,” said Dean, pointing to Sam.
“I am not pouting!” said Sam.
Cas was now hunched over the front seat, staring curiously at Sam. “See?” said Dean. “That's his pouty face.”
“This is not my pouty face!” insisted Sam as Cas continued to stare.
“Sylvia was kind of cute. Not my type,” said Dean.
“Yes, I believe Sam had developed a crush,” agreed Cas.
“Guys! Don't be dicks!” said Sam. He glared over at Dean and Cas. “OK. OK. Yeah, I admit it. I'm kinda annoyed to end up the third wheel. Or the fifth wheel. Or whatever.”
Dean looked out the window. “We gotta cheer you up, like I said. Huh. Can't really play the license plate game 'cause no other cars. Or punch buggy!”
“I hate punch buggy,” muttered Sam.
“Hey, I know! We got a couple hours. Let's get off the main highway and see if there are any Video Safari's along the way.”
“Oh, god, Dean.”
“I still need volume 20! Come on!” And with that, Dean cranked the radio and they were off.
“They’re approaching,” said Chazaquiel, shielding his eyes to view the approaching ferry. Lucifer and his henchmen were arrayed along the narrow expanse of the Port of Seattle ferry dock. They had lined up to either side, swords at the ready, prepared to board.
“Yes. They’ve been approaching for the last 20 minutes,” sighed Lucifer. And then he thought, my brothers. Not the sharpest angel blades in the scabbard.
Oddly, the lumbering ship’s pace hadn’t diminished since it had chugged into the shelter of the harbor. Rather, it seemed to have picked steam.
“Who the hell is the captain?” asked Lucifer.
“According to our intelligence,” the pale angel told him, “their vampire worked as a ship’s captain.”
“What?”
“They used to prey on yachts.”
Lucifer was momentarily silenced. “A vampirate?”
“Their seafaring skills obviously leave much to be desired,” said Chazaquiel.
Lucifer continued staring out across the harbor. “Chazaquiel.”
“Yes?”
“That ship still isn’t slowing down.”
“Yes, it’ll probably hit the dock.”
“The dock we’re standing on?” asked Lucifer. “Right now?”
“Uh....” Chazaquiel looked up at Lucifer.
“Run, you idiots!”
The angels assembled on the dock turned and started to flee, just as the great ferry neared. The dock buckled as the ship reached the end without slowing, easily crushing the wooden structure beneath its weight. Two of the angels who had been on the outermost deck were thrown off into the water, screaming. The ferry did not slow, but kept plowing ahead, smashing wooden beams to toothpicks and scattering more of Lucifer’s angels as it went. The dock creaked as it buckled. Lucifer and Chazaquiel had just made the shore as the last shards went under. And still the ferry rumbled on, now pushing ashore as the mighty engines still roared at all ahead full, crushing its way up on shore.
It finally ground to a halt, rammed a good one third of the length up on the shore.
“What are you waiting for? Board her!” shouted Lucifer to the few angels remaining.
In another part of town, a sailboat was pulling up on the shores of South Lake Union.
“See? Told you I’m a sailor,” bragged Benny, tossing a line to the small dock.
“You win, Popeye,” said Dean. “Though I gotta say, you cheated,” he added, nodding his head at Balthazar.
“It’s been my pleasure!” grinned the angel. “When this is all over, I think I shall definitely buy a yacht.”
“Steal a yacht you mean,” groused Gabriel.
“Look,” said Dean, jumping up onto the dock, “does everybody have their assignments? Lucifer is gonna realize something is up pretty soon when they board that ferry and find no one aboard.”
“In approximately 15 mintues, give or take,” supplied Garth, consulting his oversized digital watch.
“You guys get the boat to the rendezvous point-” Dean began.
“Where have I heard that before?” said Benny. “You sure I can't come gank some angel bastards?”
“Hey,” said Gabriel.
“And, yeah, I meant the offense, asshole,” Benny told Gabriel. They both grinned.
“Cas and Gabriel will keep us all clear at Cam's headquarters. You protect our escape route. All clear?” asked Dean, who suddenly found himself engulfed in a Garth hug. After saying their goodbyes to Captain Fitzgerald's satisfaction, Dean, Sam, Cas and Gabriel took off up the hill while Garth, Benny and Balthazar once again set sail.
“I have the distinct feeling that we are being watched,” said Cas.
“You're just paranoid, kid,” said Gabriel, hiking a sword over his shoulder. Cas scowled at him.
“Keep a sharp eye out, everybody,” said Dean as he nervously watched Sam pick the lock on the back door. “Given that Bobby has managed to bust into the right vault-”
“I gave Missouri very specific instructions as to the time and place,” Cas assured him.
“Yeah, but it was a dream. How could she take notes?” asked Dean.
Cas smiled. “She is very clever! She incorporated it into her knitting,” he explained, miming a pair of knitting needles.
Dean just looked confused, but at that moment the door popped open, and Sam gestured for Dean to come along. Dean squeezed Cas's shoulder, and then disappeared inside after Sam.
Cas looked around. “I'll go over to that corner,” he told Gabriel. “It might give us a better view around.” He started to walk away.
“Castiel, you know, I didn't know what Lucifer did to you.”
Cas halted in his tracks. He turned back to face Gabriel, glowering and crossing his arms. “Do we need to go over this again?”
“Yeah, we gotta do this now! Castiel, you're my brother, and I love you.”
“Oh for fuck's sake,” said Cas, irritably grabbing his cigarette pack from his coat pocket.
Gabriel was staring at him. “Look, I am OK that you're playing grab-ass with the human boy.”
Cas had lit up. He turned to stand over Gabriel. “I am in love with the 'human boy.'”
“Remember where you came from.”
“Yeah. A bunch of dicks.”
“We're your family.”
Castiel sighed. “Gabriel-”
“I need to know we're OK. We're going against Lucifer, and you have to forgive me. I really need to know you forgive me!”
Cas exhaled and then took a deep breath. “All right. Gabriel. We're OK.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Cas groaned as Gabriel suddenly flung himself into a big hug. “I have been enduring far too many embraces for my comfort,” Cas grumbled, reluctantly patting Gabriel on the back.
Both brothers turned, startled, at the sound of someone golf clapping.
“Very touching, Castiel,” said Raphael.
“Oh. Shit,” said Gabriel. Raphael had already wound up and threw a small bolt of electrical charge at them. Cas and Gabriel dove out of the way, and then both were up in a flash, Cas with his sword unsheathed.
Raphael was running away.
“What the hell is he doing?” asked Gabriel as they hot-footed it after the fleeing angel. Raphael hopped into the passenger side door of a Porsche 911 that had been parked nearby. The tires squealed, and he was off.
“He's going to alert Lucifer!” panted Cas. “We need to stop them!”
“Goddammit,” grumbled Gabriel.
“Which way is it?” asked Dean. The building looked like it had been mostly spared from any looting. If Cas was right, and Camael had been an angel, it possibly had some strong protection spells in addition to locks and keys.
“We gotta get to the top floor,” said Sam. “So it means finding a stairwell since I assume the elevators don't-” He paused, and Dean stopped short as they rounded a corner and suddenly a bank of lights lit up the hallway.
“How the fuck would the generators still be running?” asked Dean.
Sam shrugged and, on a whim, punched a nearby elevator button. There was a “ping” sound, and the elevator doors whooshed open.
Both brothers cautiously poked heads inside, and then withdrew. The exchanged a glance.
“Well, given that he was an angel, and we're supposed to be here to save the world...” Sam mused.
Dean frowned and wedged his axe between the doors so they couldn't close, then entered and tried the buttons. “You got that keycard Sylvia gave us?”
Sam pulled a small credit-card sized piece of plastic from a pocket, and Dean held it up to the flashing red light at the bottom of the elevator buttons. The light flashed green. Then he began hitting buttons. “No. No. No,” he said as they light blinked on and then off. Finally a button lit up and stayed lit. “Yes. 8th floor. Wanna give it a try?”
Taking one last glance around, Sam jumped in the elevator and Dean grabbed the axe. They exchanged another nervous glance as the elevator rose. And then they both jumped at an unexpected sound: the elevator was playing Muzak.
“Holy shit,” said Dean. They listened for a moment.
Sam scowled. “Is that … Carry on Wayward Son?”
“Well, at least they got good taste,” laughed Dean as the elevator came to a stop and the doors whizzed open. They were both out before the doors had even opened all the way.
“Now we just gotta find which room,” said Sam
The brother winced at the sound of a terrific crash, clattering and banging and glass shattering as someone or something tossed a chair through one of the doorways and out into the hall. They heard the cry of “Stupid idjits!”
“I think that's the way,” smiled Dean. “Hey, Bobby, we're on our way!” he yelled as he sprinted down the hall, Sam hot on his heels. Dean skidded to a halt, Sam crashing into him, as he barely missed being beaned by a computer monitor being tossed.
“Bobby! Hey, buddy!” yelled Dean from the hallway. “It's us!”
“Us who?” came a very familiar, if somehow ghostly voice.
“Sam and Dean!” yelled Sam.
“Go fuck off,” screamed Bobby, punctuating it with an entire file cabinet smashing out into the hallway.
Sam and Dean, with some effort, pushed the file cabinet away from the door. “Bobby, goddammit, you did your work, now let us inside!” yelled Dean, who stood in front of the doorway. “Ow!” he yelled as he was suddenly struck by a barrage of flying pencils. “Watch it!” he said. And then he grunted as Sam caught in him a flying tackle, and the brothers now just missed being smashed by yet another hurtled object.
“What the fuck even was that?” asked Dean as he scrambled to his feet.
“Think it's a centrifuge,” said Sam. “Or at least it was a centrifuge.”
“What the hell do we do?” raved Dean. “The door's open, but we got a vengeful spirit, and we don't have time for a spell to confine him!”
“Bobby?” said a female voice from within the room. “It's time to go.”
The plan had been simple, as such things go: drop off Sam, Dean and Cas at South Lake Union, and then quietly slip away through the ship canal to find somewhere inconspicuous to dock in the connected body of water, the much larger Lake Washington, while they awaited the boys grabbing the antidote.
But here was the hitch: somehow groups of the roving undead had pretty much ringed the entire fucking body of water. Croats roamed the shore for miles and miles and miles. There was literally no place to dock.
“How many of those fucking things can there be?” Benny said at one point when they were, once again, reversing course to steer away from the shore.
“Maybe we should just lay anchor somewhere in the middle?” asked Garth.
“Yeah, I guess,” growled Benny, showing his teeth in his frustration. Garth cringed.
“That would suit me. I'm growing a bit weary from pushing us,” Balthazar admitted.
“Yeah, you're doin' good work, angel,” Benny admitted.
“I don't suppose either one of you packed a margarita?” laughed Balthazar.
“You go find a safe spot,” Benny told Garth.
“Uhhhh,” said Garth, who was suddenly pointing towards the port. Benny and Balthazar exchanged a puzzled glance, and then turned around themselves.
“Oh, crap!” snorted the vampire.
“Goddammit! We need to stop them before they get to Lucifer,” Castiel told Gabriel.
“I got it,” said Gabriel, running to hop on a motorcycle that was parked nearby.
“You can drive a motorcycle?” asked Cas as Gabriel reached pulled some wires to hotwire the bike. “But you can't even drive a stick shift!”
“You mean, you can't drive a motorcycle, Cas?” Gabriel retorted. “What the hell you been spending your time on earth doing?”
“I was hitchhiking, actually,” said Cas as the bike roared to life.
“Huh. That's actually sort of cool. OK, hop on.” Cas jumped in back of Gabriel and they took off like a shot. Gabriel hadn't been exaggerating: he could drive. Raphael's driver was fast, but the motorcycle was faster.
“Pull up alongside them,” Cas yelled at Gabriel.
“What are you gonna do?”
“Something crazy. You'll like it.”
Gabriel gunned it and roared up Fairview. He felt Cas shift in his seat. “Oh, shit, you weren't kidding,” he said as he realized Cas was standing up in the seat in back of him.
“Faster!” yelled Cas.
Gabriel gunned it and the bike came abreast of the car. Cas leapt and was clinging to the top of the car. And then, to Gabriel's utter astonishment, somehow, Gabriel would never know how, Cas was up on one knee on top of the speeding car, his sword poised. And then he struck, thrusting down with all his strength, the katana piercing the driver's side.
The car veered, and Gabriel gunned it, barely missing getting broadsided. The out of control Porsche ran up off the street, up the curb, over the sidewalk, and crashed onto a low concrete wall, spinning as Cas was thrown off and rolled onto the grass that grew in the yard beyond the wall. The concrete wall, which was a good three foot thick, cracked all the way through.
Gabriel turned the bike and sped over to the crash site. He hopped off and ran to where Cas was already sitting up.
“Whoa! Easy,” said Gabriel, putting a hand on Cas's shoulder. He looked the worse for wear, battered and bruised, but OK.
“The car! Did you check the car?” asked Cas.
Gabriel looked around. “Uh, looks like we've got more problems.” Cas blearily followed Gabriel's glance. It was true: all of the noise and commotion had started to attract a mob of Croats.
“Fuck me,” said Gabriel. “OK, you sit tight kid, and I'll blast 'em.” Gabriel hopped up and went to stand on top of the concrete wall, concentrating fiercely as the Croats approached. Cas looked around. There was a great crowd of the shuffling zombies gathering here, like the mob they'd run into near Sylvia's house. Cas flinched, closing his eyes as Gabriel flicked his hands to let out a sonic blast. He felt woozy as he watched the Croats go down.
And then leapt up as Gabriel screamed. “Gabriel!” he shouted. His brother was getting fried by an electrical blast. Gabriel collapsed. Leaning on his sword to help himself up, Cas stumbled over to where Gabriel was lying. Cas nervously checked his pulse. Gabriel's heart fluttered, his breathing ragged. He had been completely caught by surprise.
“Who's next?”
“Raphael,” said Cas. He pushed himself to his feet with some effort, bleeding and panting.
“Ah, Castiel. So here is what happens. You either need to stand down, or I will kill you,” grinned Raphael, who stood beside the ruined car. He had blood dripping down his face, and one of his arms was hanging uselessly at his side.
“Sorry, no.”
“Good. How’s the wings?”
“Still crushed.”
“Even better.” Raphael raised a hand. He looked at the blade Cas was holding. “You know, I noticed something. That’s not an angel blade.”
“Your powers of observation are undiminished.”
Raphael glowered. “Stand aside. Or die.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Castiel.
Raphael flicked his hand and sent an arc of electricity whipping towards Cas, who calmly moved his blade and reflected it perfectly back at Raphael.
Raphael shrieked and jumped back.
“You see to have the same issue you did with me before,” said Cas. “Only worse.”
“I will end you.”
“You would kill a brother?” Cas asked.
“You're not my brother.”
The words chilled Cas to the bone. Casting a glance back at Gabriel, he told Raphael, “You are still my brother. And I still love you,” he added sadly. And then while Gabriel began to wave his hand, Cas refixed his grip on the hilt, and once again let the darkness sink into him. Electricity arced over, but it was all lost in a cold darkness.
Cas could feel it, Raphael pushing it, trying to overwhelm him, and then, quite suddenly, he felt his brother no more. He backed off, and light and color and warmth returned once again to the world. He blinked, lowering his sword. Raphael was now slumped over the car. Cas leapt down to check on him. He sighed. Raphael's body was already cold. Cas sighed, grieving. He hadn't wanted to do this.
“Gabriel!” he shouted as he turned back towards his brother. “Oh no,” he whispered, now rushing back to Gabriel, who was lying still on the ground. He gathered Gabriel into his lap. “Gabriel?”
“Cas,” breathed Gabriel, who grasped Cas's collar and pulled him down. “I gotta tell you something. It's about Lucifer....”
Sam and Dean peeked cautiously through the office doorway.
“Hey, it's that cute waitress chick!” whispered Dean.
“Tessa. She's a reaper,” Sam whispered back. Before Sam could grab him, Dean had slipped through the door and approached Tessa and Bobby's spirit.
“Who the hell are you?” Bobby’s spirit demanded of Tessa.
“I'm here to lead you to the other side,” she coolly informed him.
“You're a reaper?” he asked.
“Yes,” she told him.
“Well, the hell! Why didn't they just send someone like you the first damn time!” Bobby's spirit grinned and took Tessa's hand.
“Uh, Bobby,” said Dean. Sam had already begun to ransack the lab.
“Oh, the idjit probably wants to talk,” Bobby told Tessa, patting her arm. “You wait here, dear, and I'll be right with you.”
“Look, Bobby,” said Dean. “I know this hasn't been the easiest time for you...” Sam was now standing beside him, holding a metal box. “But I – we – owe you a lot. I mean, not just for this....”
“Holy shit, I thought you said not goddam chick flick moments?” demanded Bobby. “OK, now, listen up. I'm leaving for good now. I got a date with a real pretty gal. I think it's as good a way to go out as any. But I'll be listening. So you three keep your noses clean, else I'll be back. And more pissed off than ever.” And with that, Bobby turned and, courteously sticking out an elbow for Tessa, walked off to the other side.
“The three of us?” asked Dean, wiping something in his eye that was definitely not a tear. Sam, who was sniffling back his own chick flick reaction, unloaded the contents of the metal box all over one of the desks Bobby's hadn't managed to overturn. Dean looked around. It really appeared there had been some kind of riot in the office.
“Hello, Dean,” came a deep but strangely soft voice.
“Cas! Are you OK?” asked Dean. The angel was battered and bloodied, and when Dean put a hand on his face, he could see Cas was also teary-eyed. “You're not OK.”
“Gabriel didn't-” Cas stumbled. “I had to kill Raphael. And then Gabriel....”
“Your brother,” said Dean softly. “Oh, man. I'm sorry.” Dean shook his head, squeezing Cas's shoulders. “Look, can you get around OK? I know it sucks, but we're gonna have to get our asses in gear to get out of here.”
“I'll be OK,” said Cas.
“Good, 'cause we gotta hustle to make it to the damn Love Boat before the three hour tour.”
“What?” asked Cas, tilting his head in confusion.
“Not so fast,” said Sam. “Roll up your sleeves everybody. You're gonna get jabbed with the cure.” He held up a syringe.
“I'm not human, Sam,” said Cas.
“Doesn't matter. According to Camael's notes, as long as you're hauling around a human body, you can reproduce this stuff. We've all got to become antidote factories, and the more people get it, the better. In case.... Well, you know.”
“Coat,” Dean told Cas softly as he began to wrest out of his own jacket. After arms were bared, Sam gave them each a stick with a needle, causing Dean to yelp and Cas, surprisingly, to yelp even louder. “I'll give you guys lollipops,” Sam promised, handing a syringe to Dean.
“Awesome!” said Dean, who lost no time in sticking it to his brother. “How long before we start spreading anti-Croat bugs?”
“It's gonna take about a day for us to begin shedding virus,” said Sam, rubbing his arm and scowling at Dean. “So...”
“So we gotta stay alive for the next day?” said Dean. Sam nodded.
“There is one more thing,” Cas told them. “Gabriel told me this.... He told me this when he was dying. He thinks Lucifer can control the Croats.”
'You mean getting assaulted by packs of those undead bitches was not just random?” asked Dean.
“He meant to do that,” grumbled Sam, who was packing up a stash of syringes and the antidote. “Great.”
“We were surrounded by Croats when we were pursuing Raphael,” Cas explained. “That's how Gabriel was killed.”
“We better keep it tight when we go catch our ride,” sighed Dean.
And as for the little sailboat, it was under seige.
With Garth at the helm and with Balthazar summoning the winds, they had managed to evade their pursuers, a mob of angels manning a yacht. At least one of the pursuing angels had some kind of ice power, and it kept stinging Benny in his eyes.
“I've had just about enough of this angel bullshit!”
“Oh really?” sighed Balthazar, who was frankly growing tired and even a bit cranky.
“No offense, brother,” said Benny.
“Can you do something, friend vampire?” asked Balthazar, who cringed as another ice storm hit. “I'd really hate to be late for cocktail hour.”
Benny stood and scowled at the yacht, which was named “JUST 4 KIX.” “It's even got a damn funny name!” he raved. “Garth!” he barked. “You got yourself an anchor cable?”
Garth, who had been ducked behind the helm, pointed. Ignoring the ice storm, Benny stomped over to the anchor. He grabbed it and hauled it to the side, and then began swinging it around on the anchor chain like a cowboy spinning a lasso. “Get ready, pirates, we're gonna board.” He let loose with the anchor, and it flew off to the yacht, where, either by luck or uncanny accuracy, it struck the angel who had been conjuring ice storms. He yelped, and then howled when Benny tugged on the chain, pinning the anchor and the angel to the side of the yacht.
Benny began to pull on the anchor chain, hand over hand, and Balthazar jumped up behind to help him. The two crafts were side by side. Benny nodded to Balthazar as he fixed the chain, and then, grabbing weapons and hollering at the tops of their lungs, the two scrambled over the side.
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikific
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam, Benny, Chuck, Bobby, Missouri, Pamela, Lenore, Michael, Gabriel, Lucifer, Balthazar, Garth
Warnings: Cursing. Suicidal ideation.
Word Count: ~50,000
Summary: The Croatoan virus has brought down civilization as we know it. Dean Winchester, leader of a motley band of survivors, is searching for volume 25 the Video Safari limited edition box set of Dr. Sexy MD when he stumbles into Cas, an amnesiac grubbing for a can of beans at an abandoned Piggly Wiggly. Together with his brother, Sam, who may be a prophet of the Lord, and some friends they meet along the way, they embark on a cross-country road trip to find a cure for the virus and save humanity. But the journey takes our heroes straight into the middle of an angelic feud.
Notes: Set Post-Croatoan outbreak. The compound is based on the Greenbrier, a real resort. This one owes a huge debt to Zombieland, and also a to Vertigo comics.
Sam peered nervously from the passenger seat. He occasionally closed his eyes and tried to fix in his brain the brief glimpse of Sylvia’s house in Vancouver he had received in his dream.
In the back seat, Robert, who had never quite woken up, leaned against a rather tolerant Cas’s shoulder and snored. “You can push him over,” Dean told him, addressing the rear view mirror.
Cas, who had been staring out the window, worried look affixed to his face, shrugged and continued regarding the passing scenery.
“We’re getting near Vancouver city limits,” Dean told Sam needlessly.
“Hey, is that rail tracks?” asked Sam, who nearly stood up to point.
“OK, so we’re looking for a station?” Dean asked, even though Sam had told him this a dozen times already. He had rarely seen his younger brother so intense.
“Yeah, follow the tracks.” Dean guided the car towards the light rail line, and they soon found themselves at a station with a big MAX sign overhead.
Sam hopped out before the car had even come to a halt.
“Careful! Watch for Croats!” Dean shouted.
Sam pointed up the hill. “There it is! That’s it.”
“Whoa, Addams Family,” snarked Dean.
Robert had also stumbled out of the car, rubbing his eyes. “Uhhh. Is that what I think it is?” he asked, also pointing up the hill.
“What?” asked Dean, who squinted. There were a lot of moving objects visible on the roadway below the mansion. “Shit! A nest of Croats? We don’t have time! Cas!” he barked, turning to the angel.
“Dean.”
“We need you to figure out your damn creepy dark smoke thing attack. Now!”
Cas looked like he was going to argue, but then dipped his head in agreement. “OK.”
They hopped back into the car and Dean peeled off towards the roadway leading up the hill. Dean skidded to a halt not far from where a group of Croats was milling around. Hearing the engine’s roar, they oriented towards the car and started to move towards it.
Cas grabbed the door handle. “Stay inside,” he muttered. And then he was outside, standing on the hood.
“Oh, don’t get footprints on baby,” sighed Dean, who nonetheless looked worried. Cas pulled his katana from its scabbard on his back, and then stood with it, eyes squeezed shut, apparently concentrating as the Croats stopped ambling and began to charge. And there were more of them on the way, coming out from behind houses and shrubbery.
“What is this, Croat Daytona Beach or something?” asked Sam as more and more emerged from the woodwork.
“There’s more behind us!” said Robert, who was now fully awake.
“Can’t back up,” said Dean. “Great. Cas, what are you waiting for?”
But the angel stood still as a statue up on the hood as the first of them approached. Sam jumped as one pounded on his window. Another was now leaning over the fender, trying to grasp at Cas.
“Cas, hurry it up!” shouted Dean. There was more pounding, and more of them were pouring out from somewhere. “Cas!”
The sword swept. There was a sudden change in air pressure, and Dean slammed his hands over his head as his ears popped.
The Impala lurched, surrounded on all sides by darkness. And then a slam, as if the entire thing had been dropped from a height.
“Cas!” yelled Dean, jumping out of the car.
“Dean, wait!” shouted Sam, grasping at his brother’s arm. Dean choked and was slammed back against the car. But then the darkness slowly evaporated, like a heavy fog slowly lifting. Dean pushed himself to his feet once again and turned to see Cas still standing on the hood, shaking like a leaf. They locked eyes for a moment, And then Dean looked around.
Every single Croat was down.
“Get in, we’re driving!” said Dean. Cas hopped down, and Dean shoved him into the front seat next to Sam, and then jumped into the driver’s seat and roared off once again.
They crested the hill, and squealed into the driveway behind a familiar concrete fence. Sam had the car door opened before they even came to a halt, but it was Robert who charged up to the front door first. “Sylvia! It’s Robert! Let me the fuck in!” he shouted, pounding his fists. He turned. “No answer.”
“Cas. Pop the door,” ordered Dean.
Cas looked at the door and then gave it a big kick, knocking it open.
“Hey,” said Dean, as Robert and Sam rushed inside. “I could have done that.” They shared a small smile, and then followed their friends inside.
Robert was on the floor, cradling a groggy Sylvia, while Sam was tearing around the house. “I need a medicine cabinet,” he said. He ran into a room and then ran back out. “Here. Ipecac. I’ve done this before. Come on!” he ordered Robert. Robert picked up Sylvia and hurried after Sam.
Dean and Cas looked at each other, and then Dean collapsed down on the couch. “Hope we got all the Croats, because that door ain’t fixing itself,” he said.
“You told me to pop it,” said Cas. There was a retching sound coming from the bathroom.
“I thought you had a secret angel mojo thing.”
“For breaking and entering?” asked Cas.
“Hey!” came a yell from Sam. “Can you two assholes make yourselves useful and find the coffee?”
Cas and Dean looked at one another. “Well, come on,” said Dean, heading for the kitchen, “you’re the scrounger.”
“I am an angel.”
“So you have coffee powers?”
“No.” Cas tilted his head. “Do you think she has peanut butter?” he asked.
“Come on. We'll look.”
Sylvia sat on a couch in the living room, wrapped up in a blanket. She had insisted, after downing the first few cups, that they make her tea instead of coffee, so she was sipping from a mug with a little tab sticking out of it.
“You had us worried, Syl,” said Robert, who hadn’t left her side.
“I don’t understand why you’re here,” said Sylvia, her voice harsh. She sipped at her tea. “I remember the weird dreams, but I don’t think I can do anything for you. I mean, angels, and Lucifer?”
“We think your dreams meant something.”
“They meant ratings,” sighed Sylvia, setting down the mug. “They meant some people got a paycheck.” She flicked her eyes at Robert, who fussed over the blanket.
“We think the dreams were prophetic,” Sam explained again. “Like mine.”
“It was just a stupid TV show. A really stupid TV show.”
“You have the scripts.”
“Sure.” Sylvia got up, and, adjusting her glasses, walked over to a bay window where an old roll-top desk was wedged. She rolled up the desk, and grabbed some sheafs of paper, which she brought back to the living room and thumped down on the coffee table. “The final scripts.”
Dean dove for them. “Hallelujah!” he yelped, greedily thumbing through them.
“No way,” said Sylvia, staring at Dean. “You’re a Dr. Sexy fan?”
“Um, a guilty pleasure,” said Dean, hugging the scripts to him. “I mean … sorry.”
“No, that show was a piece of shit,” said Sylvia. “Mac just dragged me into it because he was worried about me after Cam … passed away.”
“Cam was your husband?” asked Sam.
Sylvia smiled sadly and, gathing the blanket around her, walked to the hearth, where an array of photographs were scattered. She picked up one and stood, clutching it. Sam walked over to stand near her.
“This looks familiar,” Sam mused, taking the photo.
“We’re at South Lake Union,” she told him. “Up in Seattle. Used to be a factory, but they redid it for the office.”
Sam abruptly dropped the photo and grabbed her shoulders. “Sylvia, what did your husband do?”
Sylvia blinked up, over her eyeglasses at Sam. “Cam? He was CEO of a biotech. That’s how he died.”
“What?” asked Dean.
Sylvia was fighting back tears. “They did research. On the Croatoan virus. You know, for the Defense Department? I told him and told him not to do it. He seemed obsessed. It was supposed to be secret, he couldn’t even tell me what he was doing. But word got out. And one day, on the way to work they shot him. They shot him on the street. In cold blood. And he was gone. And he was the cause all of this. All of this.”
“No,” said Sam. “He didn’t cause any of it. He wasn’t working on the virus. He was working on the cure.”
Cas had wandered over and picked up the photo Sam had dropped. He was now staring at it. “What was your husband’s name?” he asked.
“Cam?” said Sylvia.
“Cameron, right?” said Dean.
“No. It was Camael actually. His parents were religious or something.”
“Were you aware your husband was an angel?” asked Cas. Sylvia’s jaw dropped. Cas held up the picture. “This is my older brother.”
Sylvia sunk back down on the couch next to Robert. “Cam was another angel?” Robert asked Cas. “Just how many of you guys are down here?”
“That is a good question,” Castiel agreed. “My memories are still incomplete, but I doubt they would be of much help. I was not very highly ranked up there, nor very powerful, so I was mostly ignored. I do recall Camael, however. He tried for a time to calm the feuding between Michael and Lucifer. Of course, he was spectacularly unsuccessful.”
Sylvia was staring off into the distance. “I never had any idea. But I didn’t begin dreaming of angel stories until after he died.”
“Sylvia, would Cam have kept anything here from his company: records, papers?” asked Sam.
She nodded. “We could look in his office. I haven't gone in there since he....” She trailed off.
Sam, Robert and Cas followed her upstairs to a locked room, while Dean went to fire up the generator. Sylvia took out a set of keys and opened the door. The smell was a little musty, as if it hadn't been opened for a while.
They heard a small hum, and then the overhead lights went on.
Sam ran over to the computer, plugged it into a power board, and clicked it on. “We’ll hope it didn’t get scrambled with all the power outages,” he said, staring at the screen. He looked up. “This might take a while. We’ve gotta root around to look for the right….”
“What?” asked Dean, who had just arrived in the doorway. Sam simply turned the screen around so they all could see.
There was one file on the desktop, marked, “SYL.”
“Uh, I guess that’s for me?” said Sylvia, who had been hovering in the doorway.
“Click on it,” Dean told Sam.
“It’s a dot-MOV. A video.”
Sam clicked on the mouse. The screen flipped over to a video of a dark-haired, dark-eyed man sitting behind the desk. Everyone, including Sylvia, huddled around.
“Cam,” said Sylvia, brushing her fingers across the screen. “That's him.”
“Syl,” said the man on camera. “If you’re seeing this, then I must be dead. I tried to protect you, my dear, from the moment a realized who you were. You might say, I had one job. And I blew it. I’m sorry. I am so sorry. But now there is something I need you to do.
“But first I need to explain: I’m not what I appear to be. I’ve lied to you all these years. You’d never believe me if I told you the whole story, but let me put it this way: I’m not entirely human. And the place I’m from, well, I heard about a terrible thing some people were meaning to do. So I gave up everything, absolutely everything, in order to be able to stop it. But it was all worth it. I met you. You are my heart, Syl. You are everything.”
Sylvia was now openly weeping. Robert moved over and put a tentative hand on her shoulder. She gripped it and sobbed.
“But now I have to ask you to do something for me. Something very important. As you know, we’ve been working for the Defense Department. Not many people know this, but they’ve been developing a lethal virus. If the virus gets out, it could potentially wipe out mankind. I’m not exaggerating. I’ve seen the effects.
“We’ve been working on the antidote here. It’s a biological agent. That’s good news. All we need to do is release it, and nature will do the rest. But I've heard word lately that there's a group of … being conspiring to destroy all our work.
“No one knows this Sylvia, no one but you: I have samples of the antidote in our SLU headquarters. But here's the catch: it's locked up, not just with human security systems, I've also used some magical tricks. No other being, human or supernatural, is going to be able to get in and touch it. It means it's safe for now.
“As for how to get in, if it's needed, Syl, that's all up to you. You already have the key, you and no one else. Use your gifts.
“Sorry this is so short. And I'm sorry, but after you see this, the file is gonna delete itself. Remember what I've said. I love you, Syl. Please, baby, be well.” And then the picture blinked out. Sam was already typing frantically at the computer, but he stopped and sighed.
“Damn, it self-destructed. I'm sorry!”
“Fucking Mission Impossible fan, now what are we gonna do?” asked Dean.
“Sylvia is a prophet of the Lord,” said Cas. “The secret has already been revealed to her.”
“My prophecies are all stupid stories for that stupid show,” snapped Sylvia.
“And we’ve all seen the shows a million times,” said Sam. “I can't think of anything relevant to breaking into a pharmaceutical company, can you?”
“But we haven’t seen the last episodes!” said Dean.
“So, we need to pore through those scripts?” asked Sam. He sighed. “I suppose that's a possibility.”
“Hey, I have a great idea,” said Robert. “What if we do a table read?”
“I’m sorry?” said Sam.
“You take the scripts and just sit around the table and read them,” sighed Sylvia, wiping tears from he eyes. “It’s like a very early rehearsal.”
“You would read Dr. Sexy?” Dean asked Robert. Dean looked as if he might faint from happiness.
“Yeah, I think I could manage,” Robert grinned.
“Look, won’t this take a lot of time?” asked Sam. “We gotta get back to Aberdeen, before our ride sails off again. Maybe it would be better if we split up and read through them?”
“It will be worth it!” Robert told them. “Believe me. These scripts, they’re nothing on the page. You need to hear them, in the voices. That’s when they come alive! If we’re looking for a message, that’s gonna be how it pops out at you.”
“Robert,” said Sylvia. “It will be nothing but a gigantic waste of time. These scripts are crap!”
“Sylvia, goddammit, stop it right now,” Robert snapped at her. “These shows were really fucking important for a lot of people. Dean told me they used to drive all over the place, through Croat infestations, just to look for missing volumes! And the angels up in Vancouver have weekly viewing parties!”
“The angels watch this stuff?” Sylvia asked.
Robert was still on a rant. “I’m sorry about Cam, Syl. I’m so sorry. But I’m sick and tired of your elitist attitude! You think Shakespeare was writing for a bunch of overprivileged damn college freshmen? No! He was writing for the people. And that’s what Dr. Sexy is meant for. I’ve never been so proud of any work I’ve ever done in my whole career!”
Sylvia laughed, looking at Robert like she was seeing him for the very first time. “You mean that, Robert? Even that tractor trailer safety training film?”
Robert cracked a smile. “Yeah, even that.”
She smiled. “OK. Let’s do it. We’ll use the dining room table.”
“Can I play Dr. Hunnicutt?” asked Dean as they made for the dining room.
Everyone assembled around a large, antique dining room table, Sam, Dean and Cas carefully setting their weapons down on the floor below. Sylvia walked around passing out script copies to everyone. “This first act is hospital personnel. Robert is Dr. Sexy of course, and you wanted Dr. Hunnicutt, Dean?”
“Yeah!” said Dean, grabbing a script and Sam fought down the urge to vomit. “He has a secret passion for Dr. Pierce!”
“I don’t even know who these people are,” sighed Sam.
“You can be Dr. Forester,” Sylvia told him, “the brash young physician with a secret passion for Dr. Gilmore.”
“Hey, do all these guys have secret passions for each other?” asked Sam.
“Yeah, they do. I can play the minor female roles, but my voice is kind of out of it after the coffee and the … purging.” Sylvia brought her hand up to her throat. “Cas, can you play Dr. Lindley, the doctor with the secret passion for Dr. Hunnicutt?”
Cas scowled at her. “You wish me to play a female role?” he growled.
Sam coughed to stifle a laugh. “Uh, yeah, Cas, I think you’d do a wonderful job.” Sylvia looked over at Sam and winked, and then sat down with her own script. She looked around. “So, you wanna give it a go?”
Robert cleared his throat and smiled around the table, causing everyone, including Sam, to smile back. “Doctor!” he barked.
“Doctor!” answered Dean.
“Uh, Doctor,” sighed Sam. There was a pause.
Sam elbowed Cas.
“Doctor?” growled Cas.
Sam and Sylvia both coughed very, very loudly.
After they had plowed through the first two scripts without any divine revelations, Sylvia pleaded for a break to fix more tea. While Sam and Dean were in the living room bickering about the most efficient way of fixing the front door, Sylvia placed a kettle on the small camp stove she was using in the kitchen. “Cas, would you mind?” she asked, pointing to a nearby window.
The angel went to the window and returned to his line of questioning. “I have not failed to notice the frequency of unrequited love situations amongst the characters on your show,” he said, pulling on the sash. The window creaked open a crack.
Sylvia cast a glance over at Robert, who had come to sit on the kitchen counter. “Love is very important,” she explained. “People find it intriguing.”
“This is what people care about?” asked Cas.
“Yeah. But unfortunately, you have to put obstacles in the way. Otherwise, you don’t have a story.”
“People do not wish to see a love that is mutual?” asked Cas.
“Well,” said Sylvia, leaning back against the counter. “People tend to think that’s the end of the story. Finding love. Now me,” she continued, looking over to Robert again, “I think it’s the beginning.” They smiled at each other, and Sylvia blushed.
“Humans think love is important?”
“Yeah, it’s the most important thing. You die without it. But, I think I’m supposed to be resting my voice,” she said, patting her throat.
“Sylvia always wrote from the heart. That’s why viewers responded,” said Robert. Sylvia shook her head and went into the pantry to retrieve a box of tea bags.
“You are very well provisioned,” said Cas, looking around the pantry and perhaps remembering his days scrounging.
“Cam insisted. I thought he was nuts, but I guess he knew. I have enough here to live for years.”
“But you did not wish to live because you had lost your love?” asked Cas.
“Cas!” scolded Robert.
“No, it’s OK,” Sylvia told Robert. “Cam – or Camael I guess – was like a soulmate. When he … died, I felt like part of me died too.”
“Don’t angels love?” asked Robert. “I know they can feud!”
“That is all based on love,” said Cas. “We all had a great abiding love of our Father. And Lucifer was always the best loved in return. They said he was the most beautiful of us all.” Cas frowned.
Robert and Sylvia looked at each other. “But you didn’t like him, did you?” asked Robert.
“No,” answered Cas. “Perhaps I am stupid. That is always what the others have said. Anyway, when our Father brought forth Mankind, and told us you were now his most beloved, that was when Lucifer and Michael’s disagreement became more vehement. He was-“
“A spoiled brat,” said Sylvia.
“It sounds like your monologue, Sylvia,” said Robert. “You know, from Episode 547?”
Sylvia smiled sadly. “We leaked that part, didn’t we?” She left the kitchen and came back holding a script. She flipped through the pages, pushing her glasses down her nose and squinting. “Here it is. You wanna say it, Robert? I need tea.” She handed the script off to Robert and turned to the wailing kettle to pour boiling water over her tea bag.
Robert cleared his throat. “That’s what you forget, Doctor. You have an abiding love-” he paused and cast a glance at Sylvia, who shook her head. “You have an abiding love for humanity. But what of the humans? What of us? Love isn’t a general principle. That’s not love. Until you’ve loved one person, one singular, particular person, with all their eccentricities and faults and shortcomings, you haven’t loved. You don’t know love. When you’re down in the trenches, when you’d risk everything for that one person, when you’d dare to be hurt, dare to have your heart cut out, that’s love. That’s what it is to love.”
Sam and Dean had wandered over from fixing the door and now stood in the kitchen doorway, Dean listening raptly to his idol. He offered some applause now. He elbowed Sam who applauded too. Sylvia laughed at them.
“I have just realized why we are here on earth!” said Cas.
“Why is that, honey?” asked Sylvia.
“Our Father put us here to know love!”
“Uh, really Cas?” asked Dean.
Cas's eyes were shining. “It is not enough to simply speak in abstract. I have found love! I love Dean! That was my mission. It was to change my heart.”
There was utter silence for a moment. “Well. Cool!” said Sylvia, noticing the sudden plethora of awkwad males standing around. “Wanna get back to reading?” she asked, grabbing Cas by the elbow and leading him back to the dining room.
Robert paused and patted Dean on his shoulder, and then followed her.
Dean looked as if he might vomit. Or faint. Or perhaps a bit of both.
“You doin’ OK, dude?” Sam asked him.
“Did…. Did I just hear that right?”
“I think the whole room heard it,” laughed Sam. “Look at it this way, though, there’s not that awkwardness where you have to say it back.”
Dean seized Sam by the collar. “What if I do love him back?” he whispered.
“Uh. That’s good?”
“Is it?” said Dean, tightening his grip.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it is,” Sam choked.
Sylvia was already passing out scripts when Sam finally hauled a still somewhat shell-shocked Dean into the dining room. “We need someone to play the ghost,” she said.
“OK,” said Sam. “I gotta ask. And no offense to you guys. But … a ghost? I mean, seriously!”
“Aw, it’s just part of the show, Sammy,” said Dean.
“But I thought you hated the ghost too!” said Sam, looking accusingly at his brother.
Dean looked sheepish. “We have a ghost,” he told Sylvia.
“Well, yeah, a vengeful spirit,” said Sam.
“You actually know a real spirit?” Sylvia asked, sipping at her tea.
“Yeah, but he's not like this,” said Sam, flipping through the script.
Dean shook his head. “I guess the whole thing kinda sucks, and they tend to get pissy. Our guy mostly destroys stuff. We have to keep him under a whole bunch of different kinds of locks, real and magical, just to confine him.”
Sylvia was staring back and forth between Sam and Dean. “But otherwise he could get anywhere?”
“Pretty much. If Pam and Missiouri hadn't locked him up.”
“And there's no way to get a message to him?” asked Sylvia.
“Why you wanna call a ghost?” asked Dean. “He's mostly in a bad mood anyway.”
“Shit! Dean!” said Sam, tossing down his script. “Bobby can get anywhere! Anywhere anywhere.”
“He can.... Oh!” said Dean, finally getting it.
“You mean to send Bobby to the the pharmaceutical company?” asked Cas, who was also no slouch.
“Yeah! He could open it from the inside,” said Sylvia.
Dean dropped his script on the table. “But I don't know about you guys, they got him locked up tight, and he doesn't exactly have a cell phone.”
“Cas, you can walk in people's dreams, right?” asked Sam.
Cas nodded, thinking it over. “It should probably be Missiouri. I think Pamela is still upset with me.”
“Then we've just gotta get us to Seattle,” said Sam.
“Easier said than done,” said Robert. “Isn't Lucifer still in charge there?”
“Yeah, but I've got a plan,” said Dean, grinning and tapping his forehead.
“You got a plan?” asked Sam.
“Yeah, it's a great one!”
Sam narrowed his eyes. “You mean like Witchita?”
“That was a good plan too!”
The two brothers eyed each other as everyone else around the table looked baffled.
“Uh, anybody else want some tea?” asked Sylvia.
Robert and Sylvia waved from the front porch as Dean backed the Impala out of the driveway.
“You think those two crazy kids will make it?” said Sam after he'd closed the gate and hopped back in the passenger seat.
Dean flicked his eyes into the rear view mirror to watch Cas in the back seat. “Cas pretty much ganked every Croat in a 30 mile radius, so I think they'll be good for now. We'll come back for them after we finish in Seattle,” said Dean.
“If we finish Seattle,” said Sam.
“This is foolproof!” Dean glanced over his shoulder again. “You OK back there?”
“I am fine, thank you, Dean,” Cas quietly assured him.
Sam rolled his eyes, being careful that Dean wasn't watching him. After Cas had announced to the whole world he loved Dean, his brother had initially gotten freakish and awkward, as Sam would have expected. But then he had immediately followed up by growing weird and overprotective, at least to Sam's mind. This was a super-powered being who could create some kind of magical black hole, and now Dean wanted to play doting big brother every time he flashed those big blue eyes? He noticed that when they retired last night, Dean had immediately claimed the guest bedroom with the king sized bed for him and Cas, leaving Sam with his feet hanging off the couch in the upstairs sitting room. It was a comfortable couch, but still.
Sam stared out the window, enjoying a wallow in self-pity. His visions had brought them there, and for what? His dream girl – his literal dream girl, Sylvia – had ended up falling for the star of a ridiculous hospital drama (with ghosts!) and now his brother was besotted with some cigarette-voiced angel.
“So, we gotta play some road games or something to cheer you up?” Dean was asking.
“Huh?” said Sam.
“What is the matter, Dean?” asked Cas.
“He's pouting,” said Dean, pointing to Sam.
“I am not pouting!” said Sam.
Cas was now hunched over the front seat, staring curiously at Sam. “See?” said Dean. “That's his pouty face.”
“This is not my pouty face!” insisted Sam as Cas continued to stare.
“Sylvia was kind of cute. Not my type,” said Dean.
“Yes, I believe Sam had developed a crush,” agreed Cas.
“Guys! Don't be dicks!” said Sam. He glared over at Dean and Cas. “OK. OK. Yeah, I admit it. I'm kinda annoyed to end up the third wheel. Or the fifth wheel. Or whatever.”
Dean looked out the window. “We gotta cheer you up, like I said. Huh. Can't really play the license plate game 'cause no other cars. Or punch buggy!”
“I hate punch buggy,” muttered Sam.
“Hey, I know! We got a couple hours. Let's get off the main highway and see if there are any Video Safari's along the way.”
“Oh, god, Dean.”
“I still need volume 20! Come on!” And with that, Dean cranked the radio and they were off.
“They’re approaching,” said Chazaquiel, shielding his eyes to view the approaching ferry. Lucifer and his henchmen were arrayed along the narrow expanse of the Port of Seattle ferry dock. They had lined up to either side, swords at the ready, prepared to board.
“Yes. They’ve been approaching for the last 20 minutes,” sighed Lucifer. And then he thought, my brothers. Not the sharpest angel blades in the scabbard.
Oddly, the lumbering ship’s pace hadn’t diminished since it had chugged into the shelter of the harbor. Rather, it seemed to have picked steam.
“Who the hell is the captain?” asked Lucifer.
“According to our intelligence,” the pale angel told him, “their vampire worked as a ship’s captain.”
“What?”
“They used to prey on yachts.”
Lucifer was momentarily silenced. “A vampirate?”
“Their seafaring skills obviously leave much to be desired,” said Chazaquiel.
Lucifer continued staring out across the harbor. “Chazaquiel.”
“Yes?”
“That ship still isn’t slowing down.”
“Yes, it’ll probably hit the dock.”
“The dock we’re standing on?” asked Lucifer. “Right now?”
“Uh....” Chazaquiel looked up at Lucifer.
“Run, you idiots!”
The angels assembled on the dock turned and started to flee, just as the great ferry neared. The dock buckled as the ship reached the end without slowing, easily crushing the wooden structure beneath its weight. Two of the angels who had been on the outermost deck were thrown off into the water, screaming. The ferry did not slow, but kept plowing ahead, smashing wooden beams to toothpicks and scattering more of Lucifer’s angels as it went. The dock creaked as it buckled. Lucifer and Chazaquiel had just made the shore as the last shards went under. And still the ferry rumbled on, now pushing ashore as the mighty engines still roared at all ahead full, crushing its way up on shore.
It finally ground to a halt, rammed a good one third of the length up on the shore.
“What are you waiting for? Board her!” shouted Lucifer to the few angels remaining.
In another part of town, a sailboat was pulling up on the shores of South Lake Union.
“See? Told you I’m a sailor,” bragged Benny, tossing a line to the small dock.
“You win, Popeye,” said Dean. “Though I gotta say, you cheated,” he added, nodding his head at Balthazar.
“It’s been my pleasure!” grinned the angel. “When this is all over, I think I shall definitely buy a yacht.”
“Steal a yacht you mean,” groused Gabriel.
“Look,” said Dean, jumping up onto the dock, “does everybody have their assignments? Lucifer is gonna realize something is up pretty soon when they board that ferry and find no one aboard.”
“In approximately 15 mintues, give or take,” supplied Garth, consulting his oversized digital watch.
“You guys get the boat to the rendezvous point-” Dean began.
“Where have I heard that before?” said Benny. “You sure I can't come gank some angel bastards?”
“Hey,” said Gabriel.
“And, yeah, I meant the offense, asshole,” Benny told Gabriel. They both grinned.
“Cas and Gabriel will keep us all clear at Cam's headquarters. You protect our escape route. All clear?” asked Dean, who suddenly found himself engulfed in a Garth hug. After saying their goodbyes to Captain Fitzgerald's satisfaction, Dean, Sam, Cas and Gabriel took off up the hill while Garth, Benny and Balthazar once again set sail.
“I have the distinct feeling that we are being watched,” said Cas.
“You're just paranoid, kid,” said Gabriel, hiking a sword over his shoulder. Cas scowled at him.
“Keep a sharp eye out, everybody,” said Dean as he nervously watched Sam pick the lock on the back door. “Given that Bobby has managed to bust into the right vault-”
“I gave Missouri very specific instructions as to the time and place,” Cas assured him.
“Yeah, but it was a dream. How could she take notes?” asked Dean.
Cas smiled. “She is very clever! She incorporated it into her knitting,” he explained, miming a pair of knitting needles.
Dean just looked confused, but at that moment the door popped open, and Sam gestured for Dean to come along. Dean squeezed Cas's shoulder, and then disappeared inside after Sam.
Cas looked around. “I'll go over to that corner,” he told Gabriel. “It might give us a better view around.” He started to walk away.
“Castiel, you know, I didn't know what Lucifer did to you.”
Cas halted in his tracks. He turned back to face Gabriel, glowering and crossing his arms. “Do we need to go over this again?”
“Yeah, we gotta do this now! Castiel, you're my brother, and I love you.”
“Oh for fuck's sake,” said Cas, irritably grabbing his cigarette pack from his coat pocket.
Gabriel was staring at him. “Look, I am OK that you're playing grab-ass with the human boy.”
Cas had lit up. He turned to stand over Gabriel. “I am in love with the 'human boy.'”
“Remember where you came from.”
“Yeah. A bunch of dicks.”
“We're your family.”
Castiel sighed. “Gabriel-”
“I need to know we're OK. We're going against Lucifer, and you have to forgive me. I really need to know you forgive me!”
Cas exhaled and then took a deep breath. “All right. Gabriel. We're OK.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Cas groaned as Gabriel suddenly flung himself into a big hug. “I have been enduring far too many embraces for my comfort,” Cas grumbled, reluctantly patting Gabriel on the back.
Both brothers turned, startled, at the sound of someone golf clapping.
“Very touching, Castiel,” said Raphael.
“Oh. Shit,” said Gabriel. Raphael had already wound up and threw a small bolt of electrical charge at them. Cas and Gabriel dove out of the way, and then both were up in a flash, Cas with his sword unsheathed.
Raphael was running away.
“What the hell is he doing?” asked Gabriel as they hot-footed it after the fleeing angel. Raphael hopped into the passenger side door of a Porsche 911 that had been parked nearby. The tires squealed, and he was off.
“He's going to alert Lucifer!” panted Cas. “We need to stop them!”
“Goddammit,” grumbled Gabriel.
“Which way is it?” asked Dean. The building looked like it had been mostly spared from any looting. If Cas was right, and Camael had been an angel, it possibly had some strong protection spells in addition to locks and keys.
“We gotta get to the top floor,” said Sam. “So it means finding a stairwell since I assume the elevators don't-” He paused, and Dean stopped short as they rounded a corner and suddenly a bank of lights lit up the hallway.
“How the fuck would the generators still be running?” asked Dean.
Sam shrugged and, on a whim, punched a nearby elevator button. There was a “ping” sound, and the elevator doors whooshed open.
Both brothers cautiously poked heads inside, and then withdrew. The exchanged a glance.
“Well, given that he was an angel, and we're supposed to be here to save the world...” Sam mused.
Dean frowned and wedged his axe between the doors so they couldn't close, then entered and tried the buttons. “You got that keycard Sylvia gave us?”
Sam pulled a small credit-card sized piece of plastic from a pocket, and Dean held it up to the flashing red light at the bottom of the elevator buttons. The light flashed green. Then he began hitting buttons. “No. No. No,” he said as they light blinked on and then off. Finally a button lit up and stayed lit. “Yes. 8th floor. Wanna give it a try?”
Taking one last glance around, Sam jumped in the elevator and Dean grabbed the axe. They exchanged another nervous glance as the elevator rose. And then they both jumped at an unexpected sound: the elevator was playing Muzak.
“Holy shit,” said Dean. They listened for a moment.
Sam scowled. “Is that … Carry on Wayward Son?”
“Well, at least they got good taste,” laughed Dean as the elevator came to a stop and the doors whizzed open. They were both out before the doors had even opened all the way.
“Now we just gotta find which room,” said Sam
The brother winced at the sound of a terrific crash, clattering and banging and glass shattering as someone or something tossed a chair through one of the doorways and out into the hall. They heard the cry of “Stupid idjits!”
“I think that's the way,” smiled Dean. “Hey, Bobby, we're on our way!” he yelled as he sprinted down the hall, Sam hot on his heels. Dean skidded to a halt, Sam crashing into him, as he barely missed being beaned by a computer monitor being tossed.
“Bobby! Hey, buddy!” yelled Dean from the hallway. “It's us!”
“Us who?” came a very familiar, if somehow ghostly voice.
“Sam and Dean!” yelled Sam.
“Go fuck off,” screamed Bobby, punctuating it with an entire file cabinet smashing out into the hallway.
Sam and Dean, with some effort, pushed the file cabinet away from the door. “Bobby, goddammit, you did your work, now let us inside!” yelled Dean, who stood in front of the doorway. “Ow!” he yelled as he was suddenly struck by a barrage of flying pencils. “Watch it!” he said. And then he grunted as Sam caught in him a flying tackle, and the brothers now just missed being smashed by yet another hurtled object.
“What the fuck even was that?” asked Dean as he scrambled to his feet.
“Think it's a centrifuge,” said Sam. “Or at least it was a centrifuge.”
“What the hell do we do?” raved Dean. “The door's open, but we got a vengeful spirit, and we don't have time for a spell to confine him!”
“Bobby?” said a female voice from within the room. “It's time to go.”
The plan had been simple, as such things go: drop off Sam, Dean and Cas at South Lake Union, and then quietly slip away through the ship canal to find somewhere inconspicuous to dock in the connected body of water, the much larger Lake Washington, while they awaited the boys grabbing the antidote.
But here was the hitch: somehow groups of the roving undead had pretty much ringed the entire fucking body of water. Croats roamed the shore for miles and miles and miles. There was literally no place to dock.
“How many of those fucking things can there be?” Benny said at one point when they were, once again, reversing course to steer away from the shore.
“Maybe we should just lay anchor somewhere in the middle?” asked Garth.
“Yeah, I guess,” growled Benny, showing his teeth in his frustration. Garth cringed.
“That would suit me. I'm growing a bit weary from pushing us,” Balthazar admitted.
“Yeah, you're doin' good work, angel,” Benny admitted.
“I don't suppose either one of you packed a margarita?” laughed Balthazar.
“You go find a safe spot,” Benny told Garth.
“Uhhhh,” said Garth, who was suddenly pointing towards the port. Benny and Balthazar exchanged a puzzled glance, and then turned around themselves.
“Oh, crap!” snorted the vampire.
“Goddammit! We need to stop them before they get to Lucifer,” Castiel told Gabriel.
“I got it,” said Gabriel, running to hop on a motorcycle that was parked nearby.
“You can drive a motorcycle?” asked Cas as Gabriel reached pulled some wires to hotwire the bike. “But you can't even drive a stick shift!”
“You mean, you can't drive a motorcycle, Cas?” Gabriel retorted. “What the hell you been spending your time on earth doing?”
“I was hitchhiking, actually,” said Cas as the bike roared to life.
“Huh. That's actually sort of cool. OK, hop on.” Cas jumped in back of Gabriel and they took off like a shot. Gabriel hadn't been exaggerating: he could drive. Raphael's driver was fast, but the motorcycle was faster.
“Pull up alongside them,” Cas yelled at Gabriel.
“What are you gonna do?”
“Something crazy. You'll like it.”
Gabriel gunned it and roared up Fairview. He felt Cas shift in his seat. “Oh, shit, you weren't kidding,” he said as he realized Cas was standing up in the seat in back of him.
“Faster!” yelled Cas.
Gabriel gunned it and the bike came abreast of the car. Cas leapt and was clinging to the top of the car. And then, to Gabriel's utter astonishment, somehow, Gabriel would never know how, Cas was up on one knee on top of the speeding car, his sword poised. And then he struck, thrusting down with all his strength, the katana piercing the driver's side.
The car veered, and Gabriel gunned it, barely missing getting broadsided. The out of control Porsche ran up off the street, up the curb, over the sidewalk, and crashed onto a low concrete wall, spinning as Cas was thrown off and rolled onto the grass that grew in the yard beyond the wall. The concrete wall, which was a good three foot thick, cracked all the way through.
Gabriel turned the bike and sped over to the crash site. He hopped off and ran to where Cas was already sitting up.
“Whoa! Easy,” said Gabriel, putting a hand on Cas's shoulder. He looked the worse for wear, battered and bruised, but OK.
“The car! Did you check the car?” asked Cas.
Gabriel looked around. “Uh, looks like we've got more problems.” Cas blearily followed Gabriel's glance. It was true: all of the noise and commotion had started to attract a mob of Croats.
“Fuck me,” said Gabriel. “OK, you sit tight kid, and I'll blast 'em.” Gabriel hopped up and went to stand on top of the concrete wall, concentrating fiercely as the Croats approached. Cas looked around. There was a great crowd of the shuffling zombies gathering here, like the mob they'd run into near Sylvia's house. Cas flinched, closing his eyes as Gabriel flicked his hands to let out a sonic blast. He felt woozy as he watched the Croats go down.
And then leapt up as Gabriel screamed. “Gabriel!” he shouted. His brother was getting fried by an electrical blast. Gabriel collapsed. Leaning on his sword to help himself up, Cas stumbled over to where Gabriel was lying. Cas nervously checked his pulse. Gabriel's heart fluttered, his breathing ragged. He had been completely caught by surprise.
“Who's next?”
“Raphael,” said Cas. He pushed himself to his feet with some effort, bleeding and panting.
“Ah, Castiel. So here is what happens. You either need to stand down, or I will kill you,” grinned Raphael, who stood beside the ruined car. He had blood dripping down his face, and one of his arms was hanging uselessly at his side.
“Sorry, no.”
“Good. How’s the wings?”
“Still crushed.”
“Even better.” Raphael raised a hand. He looked at the blade Cas was holding. “You know, I noticed something. That’s not an angel blade.”
“Your powers of observation are undiminished.”
Raphael glowered. “Stand aside. Or die.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Castiel.
Raphael flicked his hand and sent an arc of electricity whipping towards Cas, who calmly moved his blade and reflected it perfectly back at Raphael.
Raphael shrieked and jumped back.
“You see to have the same issue you did with me before,” said Cas. “Only worse.”
“I will end you.”
“You would kill a brother?” Cas asked.
“You're not my brother.”
The words chilled Cas to the bone. Casting a glance back at Gabriel, he told Raphael, “You are still my brother. And I still love you,” he added sadly. And then while Gabriel began to wave his hand, Cas refixed his grip on the hilt, and once again let the darkness sink into him. Electricity arced over, but it was all lost in a cold darkness.
Cas could feel it, Raphael pushing it, trying to overwhelm him, and then, quite suddenly, he felt his brother no more. He backed off, and light and color and warmth returned once again to the world. He blinked, lowering his sword. Raphael was now slumped over the car. Cas leapt down to check on him. He sighed. Raphael's body was already cold. Cas sighed, grieving. He hadn't wanted to do this.
“Gabriel!” he shouted as he turned back towards his brother. “Oh no,” he whispered, now rushing back to Gabriel, who was lying still on the ground. He gathered Gabriel into his lap. “Gabriel?”
“Cas,” breathed Gabriel, who grasped Cas's collar and pulled him down. “I gotta tell you something. It's about Lucifer....”
Sam and Dean peeked cautiously through the office doorway.
“Hey, it's that cute waitress chick!” whispered Dean.
“Tessa. She's a reaper,” Sam whispered back. Before Sam could grab him, Dean had slipped through the door and approached Tessa and Bobby's spirit.
“Who the hell are you?” Bobby’s spirit demanded of Tessa.
“I'm here to lead you to the other side,” she coolly informed him.
“You're a reaper?” he asked.
“Yes,” she told him.
“Well, the hell! Why didn't they just send someone like you the first damn time!” Bobby's spirit grinned and took Tessa's hand.
“Uh, Bobby,” said Dean. Sam had already begun to ransack the lab.
“Oh, the idjit probably wants to talk,” Bobby told Tessa, patting her arm. “You wait here, dear, and I'll be right with you.”
“Look, Bobby,” said Dean. “I know this hasn't been the easiest time for you...” Sam was now standing beside him, holding a metal box. “But I – we – owe you a lot. I mean, not just for this....”
“Holy shit, I thought you said not goddam chick flick moments?” demanded Bobby. “OK, now, listen up. I'm leaving for good now. I got a date with a real pretty gal. I think it's as good a way to go out as any. But I'll be listening. So you three keep your noses clean, else I'll be back. And more pissed off than ever.” And with that, Bobby turned and, courteously sticking out an elbow for Tessa, walked off to the other side.
“The three of us?” asked Dean, wiping something in his eye that was definitely not a tear. Sam, who was sniffling back his own chick flick reaction, unloaded the contents of the metal box all over one of the desks Bobby's hadn't managed to overturn. Dean looked around. It really appeared there had been some kind of riot in the office.
“Hello, Dean,” came a deep but strangely soft voice.
“Cas! Are you OK?” asked Dean. The angel was battered and bloodied, and when Dean put a hand on his face, he could see Cas was also teary-eyed. “You're not OK.”
“Gabriel didn't-” Cas stumbled. “I had to kill Raphael. And then Gabriel....”
“Your brother,” said Dean softly. “Oh, man. I'm sorry.” Dean shook his head, squeezing Cas's shoulders. “Look, can you get around OK? I know it sucks, but we're gonna have to get our asses in gear to get out of here.”
“I'll be OK,” said Cas.
“Good, 'cause we gotta hustle to make it to the damn Love Boat before the three hour tour.”
“What?” asked Cas, tilting his head in confusion.
“Not so fast,” said Sam. “Roll up your sleeves everybody. You're gonna get jabbed with the cure.” He held up a syringe.
“I'm not human, Sam,” said Cas.
“Doesn't matter. According to Camael's notes, as long as you're hauling around a human body, you can reproduce this stuff. We've all got to become antidote factories, and the more people get it, the better. In case.... Well, you know.”
“Coat,” Dean told Cas softly as he began to wrest out of his own jacket. After arms were bared, Sam gave them each a stick with a needle, causing Dean to yelp and Cas, surprisingly, to yelp even louder. “I'll give you guys lollipops,” Sam promised, handing a syringe to Dean.
“Awesome!” said Dean, who lost no time in sticking it to his brother. “How long before we start spreading anti-Croat bugs?”
“It's gonna take about a day for us to begin shedding virus,” said Sam, rubbing his arm and scowling at Dean. “So...”
“So we gotta stay alive for the next day?” said Dean. Sam nodded.
“There is one more thing,” Cas told them. “Gabriel told me this.... He told me this when he was dying. He thinks Lucifer can control the Croats.”
'You mean getting assaulted by packs of those undead bitches was not just random?” asked Dean.
“He meant to do that,” grumbled Sam, who was packing up a stash of syringes and the antidote. “Great.”
“We were surrounded by Croats when we were pursuing Raphael,” Cas explained. “That's how Gabriel was killed.”
“We better keep it tight when we go catch our ride,” sighed Dean.
And as for the little sailboat, it was under seige.
With Garth at the helm and with Balthazar summoning the winds, they had managed to evade their pursuers, a mob of angels manning a yacht. At least one of the pursuing angels had some kind of ice power, and it kept stinging Benny in his eyes.
“I've had just about enough of this angel bullshit!”
“Oh really?” sighed Balthazar, who was frankly growing tired and even a bit cranky.
“No offense, brother,” said Benny.
“Can you do something, friend vampire?” asked Balthazar, who cringed as another ice storm hit. “I'd really hate to be late for cocktail hour.”
Benny stood and scowled at the yacht, which was named “JUST 4 KIX.” “It's even got a damn funny name!” he raved. “Garth!” he barked. “You got yourself an anchor cable?”
Garth, who had been ducked behind the helm, pointed. Ignoring the ice storm, Benny stomped over to the anchor. He grabbed it and hauled it to the side, and then began swinging it around on the anchor chain like a cowboy spinning a lasso. “Get ready, pirates, we're gonna board.” He let loose with the anchor, and it flew off to the yacht, where, either by luck or uncanny accuracy, it struck the angel who had been conjuring ice storms. He yelped, and then howled when Benny tugged on the chain, pinning the anchor and the angel to the side of the yacht.
Benny began to pull on the anchor chain, hand over hand, and Balthazar jumped up behind to help him. The two crafts were side by side. Benny nodded to Balthazar as he fixed the chain, and then, grabbing weapons and hollering at the tops of their lungs, the two scrambled over the side.
