A Canticle for Dr. Sexy (Chapter 6 of 6)
Dec. 1st, 2012 06:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: A Canticle for Dr. Sexy (Chapter 6 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.
“We're screwed.”
Dean crawled back from the edge of the roof on his belly and, once he was far enough back, sat up. He held up a hand and Sam helped him to his feet.
“The whole lake?” asked Sam, who now assisted a sniffling Cas to his feet as well.
“You wanna go look?” asked Dean. “The whole shore of the lake – every single landing point – is crowded with fucking Croats. Cas wasn't kidding. Lucifer has it in for us.”
Cas sneezed. Dean blinked at him. “You OK, buddy?” The angel, who was already looking a bit the worse for wear, now sported a bright pink nose.
“I feel a little … under the weather?” said Cas.
“I think it's a rare side effect of the antidote?” Sam shrugged.
“Great, just our luck!” said Dean. Cas sneezed again, and wiped it on his trench coat sleeve. Sam handed over a tissue. “OK, look, Cas,” said Dean, taking Cas's shoulders in his two hands. “I know you're not feeling great, but we really gotta clear off at least an area so Benny can come save our asses. You think you can manage it? If Sammy and I keep the Croats away long enough for you to power up?”
“Dean, the problem with my power isn't too little, it's too much,” sniffled Cas. “I might have trouble keeping it to the shore. I might end up … hurting people in the boat!”
“Yeah, but we were all right sitting in the car, right by you,” said Dean.
“I know. But Dean...” Cas looked into his eyes. “I feel like crap right now.”
“Yeah, I know. It sucks. But if you can pull yourself together for this....” Dean scowled. “I tell you what, you pull yourself together, when we get the fuck outta Seattle, you stay in bed a week! And I'll bring you chicken soup and tea and porn movies and whatever the fuck you want!”
Cas's eyes strayed questioningly over to Sam, who was guffawing. “Cas, I know you're hurting man, but I'd take the offer. Dean never coddles sick people. Believe me.”
“Sammy's right. I don't. I'm an asshole. Ask him about the day I dropped him off at school with a 102 temperature.”
“It's true,” said Sam, nodding frantically at the charming Winchester family memory.
Cas got a dubious look on his face, but finally nodded. “All right, let's go,” said Dean.
They made their way downstairs, Cas sniffling all the way, and then proceeded down to where they were within sight of the shores of Lake Union.
“You need to be...?” Dean started.
“As close as possible, yes,” Cas nodded, wiping his nose.
“Yeah, I was afraid of that. Sammy, you good?”
Sam nodded, although he was anything but good with this.
“And I can’t fight while I’m … powering up,” Cas reminded them. He stopped and pulled his sword from the scabbard. Dean nodded to Sam, who noticed that the nearby Croats had picked up on their presence. A few went from milling around to wandering in their direction. He knew that once one or two attacked, it would just mean more. He glanced nervously back at Cas, who already seemed lost in his own world.
There was a howl and a thump, and Sam saw Dean had downed the first one. He whirled around, swinging the fire axe he’d grabbed at the pharmaceutical company, and connected with a Croat skull. He reversed, managing to jab another in the stomach, and then downed another with the blade. Cas was doing that thing where he looked like he was posing for Ninja Weekly. “Can we hurry it up?” Sam muttered, knowing it would do absolutely no good.
The thing with Croats was to keep moving, something that was impossible if you were defending a currently motionless angel. When you stayed put, you were just inviting them to crowd you. Sam struck out again, and again. More of them meant more of them, and they seemed attracted to commotions, which is exactly what you got, fighting Croats.
Sam hit, and hit, and hit, and then the fucking axe got caught in a skull and it was gory so it slipped from his hands just as another one came around and he stepped back and hit a muddy patch and fell on his ass and started to crawl away and then….
WHUMP! Benny’s club downed one, and then another, and then another.
“BENNY!” yelled Sam. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed his axe back, and looked down towards the water, where Balthazar was holding off a mob.
“What the fuck is that?” asked Dean, pointing to the ship that was waiting on the lake, a rope ladder hanging down to the beach.
“Wanna sail my new yacht, boys?” laughed Benny.
“JUST 4 KIX?” asked Sam.
“We gotta rename the sucker soon as I can get the paint. What the fuck is your angel up to?”
The answer came as Cas suddenly moved, quick as lightning.
“Hit the deck!” screamed Dean, but Benny and Sam were already down, and Balthazar suddenly turned and leapt back into the boat.
It was dark as dusk, and there was a sudden drop in air pressure, like before an oncoming storm.
And then a faint tremble, just for one, two, three, four seconds.
Sam stayed on the ground, but after hearing and feeling nothing for a few moments, risked poking his head up. He jumped to his feet, and was quick enough to grab Cas just before the angel crumpled to the ground.
“That was it?” asked Benny, who was also lumbering to his feet.
“Look,” said Dean, pointing with his axe.
Every single Croat was down, not just in the area, but as far as the eye could see, up and down the shoreline. And the ones on the far shore had stopped moving as well. Dean toed one nearby, and it emitted a soft sigh. “Watch it!” he said, now holding up his axe. “They’re still alive!”
Benny looked around. “Hey! Is that … sirens?” he asked.
Sam looked up towards the city, and saw flashing lights approaching.
“Boys! Let’s get out of here!” Balthazar called from the ship.
Benny and Sam broke for the ship, and Dean grabbed Cas and half carried him down towards the beach just as the first police car pulled up and stopped nearby.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Lucifer bellowed.
Dean hopped onto the rope ladder after Sam. “Cas hurry up!” he yelled down at Castiel.
Cas looked up, and then turned and stalked towards Lucifer. “I’ll hold him off,” he muttered.
“You’ll…. Cas! Oh, what the fuck,” said Dean, jumping off the ladder as well. “Benny,” he called up, giving the craft a push. “Take off! Now!” The engine roared to life, and the craft shuddered and started to pull out.
“Dean, no!” screamed Sam, but his brother ignored him, and the ship was already backing away. “Goddammit!”
“What do we do, Sammy?” asked Benny, who was staring at him sympathetically.
Sam looked frantically towards the retreating shore, but then appeared to form a plan. “OK, OK, wait, Garth?” Garth nodded at Sam. “Make for the opposite shore! Now!”
“You have an idea?” asked Balthazar.
Sam was fishing the metal box full of antidote out of his bag. He opened it and examined the contents. “Yeah. I got an idea. And I’ll need everybody’s help. Everybody, roll up your sleeves!”
“Uhhhhh, we ain’t gonna get poked, are we?” worried Benny.
“Yeah, that’s the first part,” said Sam, who pushing on a plunger and watching a bit of liquid squirt out of the hypodermic needle in his hand. “Now if you’ll-“
There was a crash, as Benny fainted dead away onto the deck.
“I guess our friend don’t like needles,” grinned Garth.
“Lucifer,” said Cas.
“Tut. You’ve looked better, Castiel,” said Lucifer, crossing his arms and grinning down at Cas. “Still enamored with your human friends? Because I can’t say the association has done you good.”
“Fuck off, Lucifer,” growled Dean, who grabbed a shaky Cas under his arm. Cas cast a panicked look at him.
“They are loyal little things, I’ll give them that,” laughed Lucifer, who had been joined by the angels who had made it off the ferry dock. “Will you be terribly upset when I snap his neck?”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Cas told Lucifer, a warning tone in his voice.
“And why not? You’ll see. It will be fun.”
“Boss?” said Chazaquiel. “The ship is getting away. The prophet!” But Lucifer waved him off.
“Gabriel told me you control the Croats,” said Cas.
Lucifer smiled and stared at his fingernails in a parody of modesty. “Oh, it’s just a little talent. Barely worth mentioning.”
“So do I,” stated Cas, raising his sword.
“Oh, you do not, you pathetic little prevaricator.”
“I put them in this sleep,” said Cas, nodding his head to indicate the unconscious Croats who were scattered up and down the beach. “I can wake them up.”
“You,” said Lucifer, pointing at him, “are and have always been a horrendous liar.”
“So you can see I must not be lying.”
Lucifer actually looked uncertain. He glanced over at Dean, and then back to Cas. “You can barely stand.”
“Lucifer,” said Chazaquiel.
“Shut up!” Lucifer told Chazaquiel. He turned back to Cas. “You’re bluffing. And making a poor job of it.”
“Lucifer the boat is getting away.”
“I know the boat is getting away!” yelled Lucifer, rounding on his henchman.
“It’s on the other shore!” yelled the albino, pointing out across the lake.
“What?” asked Lucifer. “What the hell are they doing?”
“Hold me steady, Dean,” Cas whispered.
“Cas….”
“Just do as I say,” Cas warned him. He quietly brought up the sword, and then flicked it slightly.
Lucifer was fuming. “Go after them!” he shouted. “See what they’re up to!” He turned at the sound of moans. Several Croats had woken up, and one of them was now shuffling towards him. “Wait! Fuck!”
“You can actually do that?” Dean whispered to Cas, who was now trembling.
“As long as I stay conscious.” Cas flicked the sword again, and more Croats rose. All of them seemed to be making a bee-line for Lucifer.
“Get them out of here!” yelled Lucifer as Chazaquiel punched out a woman who had strayed rather too close to him.
“Wait! You want us to go after the other guys or get these guys?” asked a confused minion who was standing up near the car.
“Get these guys first, then go after the other guys!” yelled Lucifer.
“Angels ain’t the sharpest tool. No offense,” Dean muttered to Cas, who chuckled, and then sneezed.
“Don’t be worried about air bubbles,” Sam told Garth. “These people are already dead anyway.”
“I wanna do it right,” said Garth, who was insistently flicking at his hypodermic needle. Benny, who remained a bit pale looking (if one may indeed say that of a vampire) remained aboard the JUST 4 KIX. As it turned out, he had always hated needles. Meanwhile, Sam, Balthazar and Garth ran around immunizing every Croat in sight.
“Lucifer can kill us,” Sam repeated, “but I bet he can’t kill every single one of these guys.”
“Sam! Your brother!” yelled Benny. He was up on deck, holding a pair of binoculars.
“Is he OK?”
“Those Croats over there are wakin’ up!” Benny yelled back.
Sam frowned and scaled the rope ladder to the JUST 4 KIX. Benny handed off the binoculars. “It appears that our undead friends wanna eat Luci for a meal.”
Sam shoved the binoculars back at Benny and ran to call Balthazar and Garth. “Get back here you guys! We gotta go pick up Dean and Cas now!”
“I’ve got an air bubble!” yelled Garth.
“Fuck your air bubble!” Sam yelled down.
“That ain’t polite! Had you looked in to meditation, my friend?”
“Just get back in the damn boat.” Balthazar grabbed Garth by the scruff of the neck and basically threw him at the rope ladder.
Cas was still waking Croats faster than Lucifer could deal with them. Dean was growing more and more worried, though, as Cas had gone from trembling to outright shaking in his grasp. Dean was the only thing holding him up.
Dean cast a look backwards, and then put his mouth on Cas’s ear. “Cas! Sam is coming! The boat turned around! Just hold on a minute. Hold on!”
Cas nodded but didn’t say anything. He sneezed.
“No you idiots!” Lucifer raved as the pile of Croat carcasses around him grew ever larger. “Get him! Go kill Castiel!” Several of the angel minions suddenly looked up from what they were doing to glare at Dean and Cas.
“Oh, shit,” said Dean. He turned back around. “Hurry up, Sammy. Goddammit.”
The angels were being delayed by Croats, but a couple of them had managed to break free and now approached Dean with murder in their eyes.
“OK, down you go,” said Dean, as gently as possible lowering Cas to the ground. He gripped his axe, idly wondering if it worked on angels, while Cas, with a moan, wilted down to collapse at his feet.
He cast his eyes back and forth between the angels, wondering which of them would strike out first. There was a slim, dark one, and a really big redheaded guy.
He fixed his grip on the axe.
Cas whimpered.
The redhead lunged. Dean pivoted and raised his axe….
And then it all went black.
“I hope this isn't a bad time?”
Dean was the first to recover, jumping up and looking around frantically. He had expected to be dead. Instead he seemed to be in some kind of....
“I trust you still fancy pizza?” Death inquired politely, waving a hand around the pizza parlor.
Sam was there as well, and he and Dean exchanged a confused glance.
“Uh, yeah, thanks, Death,” said Dean. “I could, uh, go for some pizza. And maybe a beer?”
“I always prefer wine, but I suppose we could scrape something up,” said Death, nodding at Tessa.
“May I politely inquire where the fuck are we?” growled Benny.
Dean helped a shaky Cas to his feet and looked around the room to make sure they were all present. He heaved a sigh to see they were. “Uh, Benny. Garth. Balthazar. This is....”
“Death,” said Balthazar, going to shake his hand. “You will forgive me if I did not wish to encounter you at this point in my existence.”
“I assure you, I only wish to discuss business with the Winchester brothers at this point.”
“Uh, hey Death,” said Garth. It came out as sort of a yelp, and Dean noticed with some little amusement that the ship's captain made no move to embrace Death.
“Hola,” said Benny. He stood still as a statue, his eyes dancing around the place, searching, Dean knew, for an escape route.
“You haven't any reason to fear either, my friend,” Death told the vampire. “Though I am not, as you might understand, favorably inclined towards those of your race, you have proved quite useful in this present venture. I believe, Tessa, that we may have some AB negative in the pantry?”
“I'll go check,” said Tessa agreeably, as she deposited a wine bottle on the table, and a few frosty bottles of beer. Dean strode to the table and took a grateful guzzle of the beer. Tessa uncorked the wine.
Cas sneezed and fell into a chair. Tessa handed him a box of Kleenex, and departed for the kitchen.
“Perhaps some nice chicken soup for Mr. Castiel?” Death told Tessa.
“T'ank you,” snorted Cas. Dean sat down beside him, resting his arm on the back of Cas's chair.
“Home style chicken soup,” said Death, taking a seat at the head of the table. “My new cook's specialty I have found it cures everything.”
Sam went to sit beside Death. “We think it's a reaction to the vaccine.” Bahthazar seated himself as well, and then Garth, and finally, with a last look around the restaurant, Benny.
“Yes,” said Death, helping himself to some red wine. “That was very good work on that matter. And even though the rest of you fellows were not involved in the negotiations, please be aware that you have earned my gratitude.” Death picked up the wine and swirled the glass, sniffing the bouquet.
Benny looked over his shoulder, where Tessa was pouring a thick red liquid into a wine glass for him. “Fresh AB negative,” she said.
“Uh, my thanks, darlin',” Benny told her. “Uh, cin cin,” he said, raising the glass to Death. The crowd raised glasses and beer bottles while Tessa handed out menus.
“I must warn you, I'm starting a new chef, so orders might sometimes be a little delayed,” warned Death.
Sam put down the menu and gave Death a sharp look. “Delayed? Like, exactly how long could they be delayed?”
“Oh,” sighed Death. “There's no telling. It could be hours.”
Sam and Dean exchanged a look.
“Uh, like 24 hours?” asked Dean, hopefully.
Death smiled and opened his menu. “Would anyone care for suggestions?” Cas sneezed. “Gesundheit,” Death told him. “Did we need more soup? I’ll call the chef.” Death signaled to Tessa.
“Oh, don’ bodder. Really,” said Cas as Tessa disappeared into the kitchen.
“WHICH OF YOU IDJITS IS SCARFING DOWN ALL MY SOUP?” yelled a very familiar voice. Dean and Sam exchanged an astonished glance.
Bobby’s ghost came storming out, soup tureen in his hand. “Oh, it’s an angel idjit! That figures. You bastards are garbage guts, all of you.”
“Uh, hey, Bobby,” said Dean cautiously, as Bobby’s agitated spirit ladled more soup into Cas’s bowl.
“Dank you, Bobby,” sniffled Cas.
“Hey, Bobby,” smiled Sam. “How you doin’, man?”
“I can’t complain!” said Bobby, waving the ladel. “The hours are good, and that waitress is a doll!” Tessa, who was standing just outside the kitchen, winked at Bobby.
“Dis is bery flaborful,” Cas agreed, taking another grateful spoonful.
“Least you ain’t got a sweet tooth. Not like your brother!”
Cas’s eyes widened. “Gabriel?” he whispered.
“If you mean the short loudmouth, yeah. Now, I gotta go make some pizzas for a bunch of dumbasses.” And with that, Bobby stormed back into the kitchen.
“Never trust a fair tempered chef, I always say,” grinned Death. “Their irritability is directly correlated, I’ve found, with their skill level.”
“Has he seen Gabriel?” Cas asked Death.
Death looked towards Cas, smiling. “Bobby is new here, so he spoke out of turn. I would never say such a thing of my kitchen staff.”
“I really feel fine.”
“The week isn’t up. You’re probably still shedding virus!”
“Isn’t that the point?” said Cas, who was buried under a million blankets and propped up on an equal number of pillows.
“I said you’d stay in bed a week, didn’t I?” asked Dean, who, even though fully clothed, cheerily invited himself to stretch out on the bed alongside Cas after placing the breakfast tray carefully on a bedside table. “Besides, isn’t this great? A house in the suburbs. It’s even got a fucking white picket fence.” Dean unscrewed the cap on one of the beers and handed another over to Cas.
Cas sat up. “Don’t you think all this is horrible?” he asked, waving the beer around.
“Hey, careful, don’t spill your beer. Oh, yeah, it’s pretty horrible,” Dean cheerily agreed.
“Dean, this has been very, very nice of you, finding this empty house out in Bellevue….”
“Wasn’t hard, they’re mostly empty.”
“Well, that brings up the issue: what if the owner wakes up and comes around wanting his house back?”
Dean lay back, balancing the beer bottle on his belly. It was true, the antidote was working, and Croats in the vicinity were slowly but surely waking up with, one presumed, massive hangovers.
It wasn’t all sunshine and unicorns shitting rainbows, of course. The Croatoan virus had made a lot of badly injured people functionally immortal, so the antidote actually came as a death sentence for some. There weren’t, after all, a whole lot of functioning hospitals right now. For every dozen that awakened, there was a body or two to account for.
And then there was the whole issue of the mess the apocalypse had made of the infrastructure. Beside the human toll, there was going to be a lot of cleaning up before things got back to any semblance of normal.
And added to the general chaos was the fact that no one knew what had become of Lucifer. Well, Dean admitted, Death probably knew, but they really owed the dude, so he wasn’t inclined to go hitting the guy up for any more favors. Though his pizza was fucking awesome.
But Dean found it difficult to worry about all this, especially since Cas seemed so eager to take on the role of Official Winchester Worrywart. Dean thought maybe later he’d have to duke it out with Sam over the role. But right now, his brother was safe, and he had an angel who smelled like spices lying in a big, warm bed.
“Dean?”
“Oh, uh, yeah,” said Dean. “Look,” he said, rolling over on his belly. “We’ll be outta here by then I’m sure.”
“It seems like we’ve been here forever already,” grumbled Cas. “Can I at least go out on the porch and have a smoke?"
“No! You got a respiratory illness, so no cigarettes. Besides, you shouldn’t smoke.”
“Why the hell not?”
“It’ll stunt your growth.”
Cas had murder in his eyes, but was distracted by an enthusiastic knocking on the door.
“Hey! You guys in there?” hollered Sam.
“We’re in bed! Doing really disgusting things!” Dean yelled back.
“Yeah,” said Sam, barging in regardless. “Fully clothed, huh?”
“Wanna see?” asked Dean.
“No. Why are you fully clothed?” asked Sam.
“I’m bringing Cas breakfast in bed.”
“Two beers?” asked Sam.
“When you get your dream girl, then you get to make her your version of breakfast in bed?”
“I’m your … dream girl?” sputtered a glowering Cas.
“What’s up?” Dean asked as Sam thumped down on the bed.
“Seriously. Benny has started acting agitated about getting back to his ‘home soil,’ and I was thinking now that Cas is better….”
“He’s got three more days!” stated Dean.
“I’m perfectly fine, Sam,” said Cas, who was still glaring over the “dream girl” comment.
“Maybe we could start heading back?” said Sam.
“I’m not going back, Sam,” Dean informed him.
“What?”
“It’s not for me, back there,” said Dean. Sam peered at Cas, who was shaking his head, as if he had heard this before. “I was born for-“
“The open road,” chorused Cas, in a not bad imitation of Dean’s voice.
Dean glared at Cas, and started, “They can’t-“
“Tie me down,” said Cas.
“That’s annoying,” said Dean, Cas echoing every cadence, and Sam desperately tried not to fall off the bed laughing. “Stop that!”
“OK, OK,” said Sam, waving for them to stop. “We can talk about it later. What I wanted to do was go out for a walk. I’m pretty sure I’ve spotted people in this neighborhood. I mean, people people. And I wanted to see if any of them are out.”
“The Croats are really moving back in?” asked Dean, giving a worried glance at Cas.
“I dunno if they’re Croats or just folks who stuck it out. But Balthazar and Benny are too fucking lazy to come along, and I didn’t wanna go alone.”
“We’ll come with you, Sam,” said Cas making to rise.
Dean pushed him back. “No we’re not.”
“You need to let me out of this bed!”
“Or what?”
“Or….” Cas cast around for a threat. He looked at Sam and grinned. “Or else I’ll make one of those faces Sam makes!”
Sam glared.
“Oh, there’s no way you could do wounded puppy dog,” laughed Dean.
“I bet I could,” glared Cas, who looked nothing like a puppy.
“No way,” said Dean as Cas suddenly contorted his features into something that resembled less and angel and more perhaps a bull moose in heat.
Dean fell off the bed.
“I so do not look like that,” pouted Sam.
“Are you kidding? That’s fucking perfect!” said Dean, who had just managed to raise himself up on two elbows.
Cas had already sprung off the bed. “So we’re going.”
“Yeah, I guess,” laughed Dean. “Sammy, you give us a minute to find the angel some pants?” he added, as Cas was currently wearing only badly torn sweatpants and an equally well-worn AC/DC T-shirt.
Sam nodded and left. Cas was already headed towards the bathroom, stripping off his T-shirt.
“Hey,” said Dean.
“What?” Cas called over his shoulder.
“The bruises! They’ve faded.”
Cas, who was in the bathroom by now, frowned at his own mirrored image, and then pivoted around to glimpse his back over his shoulder. Dean was right, the angry purple contusions had much faded and shrunk down.
“That’s strange. It’s been that way for a year.” He was distracted enough that he didn’t see Dean coming, only felt the hands on his waist, hoisting him up to the bathroom counter. Dean put a hand on each thigh and found Cas’s mouth with his own. “It’s strange,” Cas repeated as the clench broke.
“It’s good, right?” Dean muttered into his neck.
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Cas tried to look back in the mirror again, but was stopped by Dean pulling him back around for more open-mouthed kisses. “Your brother is waiting,” Cas murmured.
“Did I tell you you smell really good?” Dean whispered, pushing Cas’s legs farther apart.
“Yes. But you can tell me again.”
It didn’t take long to get the sweatpants off.
Sam waited a few minutes with increasing impatience, until he heard a rhythmic thumping emitting from the bedroom, and realized he’d be waiting for quite some time.
“Ah, to hell with it,” he grumbled. He grabbed his coat and headed for the door, remembering to also pick up a shotgun. Since the Croat menace was fading, they wouldn’t have to be as paranoid about making noise, although ammo remained scarce.
Sam made sure the door was closed behind him and then made for the front gate. Despite the house being in fact inside a gated community, the owners had been paranoid enough to erect yet another high fence around the premises. He wondered why the owners hadn’t remained here, as it also appeared to have a stocked up larder as well as backup generators. A rich but stupid person, he reckoned. Sam detested gated communities on principle, though he reflected that he had benefited from them during the Croat situation.
Although he was supposed to be on alert, Sam’s mind drifted as he walked. It was nice, walking. It was something he hadn’t been able to do since they left the camp so many miles ago. And even there, he was likely to run into someone who wanted something from him, or wanted him to squeal about where Dean had run off to. He had understood why Dean was now daydreaming about taking off. For his elder brother it must seem like a weight off his shoulders to be away from there, even if it meant sometimes literally fighting for his life.
Though Sam wasn’t at all certain he completely approved of Dean’s current choice in a partner in crime. An angel with death powers? Sam sure as hell didn’t want to be in the house when they had their first fight. And knowing his mercurial brother, it was bound to happen.
His mind had drifted to how to force pharmaceutical companies to employ angel-proofing for their dangerous materials when it happened. He never heard it coming, and didn’t realize he was in danger until he was sprawled on the sidewalk, a great weight on his back, panic rising.
He felt something wet drop on his neck, and with some effort, he rolled over and felt it bounce off. He reached out a hand.
It was a drool-covered tennis ball.
And then there was a muzzle in his face, nuzzling his nose.
“Get off!” howled Sam.
“Max!” came a female shout.
Sam sat up and looked around, gripping the dog by the collar. “Max?” he asked. The dog barked happily. It was weird, it looked just like the Max who liked to root around in his prophetic dreams.
“MAX!” came the voice again, and now she was standing not ten feet from Sam, a petite blonde, gripping a shotgun. She peered at Sam, keeping her distance.
The dog tore away from Sam’s grip and bounded up to the girl. “Uh, I’m sorry. He gets over-enthusiastic sometimes.”
“It’s OK,” Sam assured her. He stood. He felt a little banged up, but everything seemed to be in working order. He turned his attention to the girl, who was not half bad looking. In fact, now that he had time to assess the situation, she was quite cute.
“He’s never gotten off the leash before,” she was saying.
“It’s OK,” said Sam. “I like dogs!” He took a cautious step forward, extending a hand. “Sam.”
She gave him a critical once-over, and finally extended her own. “Jessica,” she said.
“You gave it a push!”
Two angels had settled on the hillside. As they were true formed angels, there wouldn’t have been room for many more than two. The first, who was larger and darker, fluffed his wings in irritation.
The second, smaller and fleeter, answered back, “What?”
“You gave it a push! It’s against the rules.” And the dark, angry wings got another flap.
“I pushed the dog. You can push the dog.”
“You are in violation, Gabriel!”
“Aw, don’t sweat it, Raph,” grinned Gabriel, settling back and watching Sam, Jessica and Max walk off.
“It’s Raphael, not Raph. And I will sweat it. Grigori are supposed to watch. You know, we are currently not on the best terms with our Father, else we would not have pulled the worst-"
“The best assignment!” grinned Gabriel, arching his great golden wings in sheer happiness. “Anyway, our work here is done.”
“Our work?”
“Wanna go hit up Death?” asked Gabriel, scrambling to his feet. There were many trees on earth that were not as tall as Gabriel in his true form.
“Oh not again. I think you irritate him.”
“Whaddya mean? Death loves me! We’ll go get some spumoni. And then maybe we can do some dream walking.”
"You two!" There was now quite suddenly a third true formed angel on the hill. He was sized midway between the two, and had six pairs of magnificent wings, all of which were arched up in irritation.
"Camael," said Raphael, guiltily.
"Hey, Cam!" Said Gabriel brightly.
"What are you two troublemakers up to now?" asked the Seraph sternly, although there was a note of affection in his voice.
"Gabriel pushed a dog!" tattled Raphael.
"Shaddap, Raphie."
The two angels pushed each other, as if getting prepared to grapple.
"Knock it off, boys," ordered Camael, his true voice stern. "You are Grigori. Not idiots." He frowned. "Come along now. We have some dream walking to do."
And then he was there no more.
"Yeah, c'mom, Raphy-boy," said Gabriel, disappearing after him.
"Raphael!" boomed Raphael. And then he too was there no longer.
Dean looked around in confusion at the tree-lined walk.
"Hello, Dean."
"Hey Humpty Dumpty," Dean told the angel sitting up on the concrete fence, smoking a cigarette.
"Did you know," asked Cas, gracefully hopping down, "that nowhere in the poem is Humpty Dumpty referred to as an egg?" Dean scowled, so Cas continued, "I looked up the nursery rhyme after your brother made the same reference when I encountered him in a dream."
"So this is my dream?" asked Dean.
Cas took a drag in his cigarette. "No."
"Then I'm in your dream?" Dean asked, gesturing for the cigarette.
"No," said Cas, handing off the cigarette. "We are evidently sharing a post-coital nap, and have both been pulled into someone else's dream. Hey!" he added as Dean stamped out the cigarette.
"No more smoking. Not even in dreamland," Dean said decisively. "Because-"
Cas stood erect. "I have already achieved my full height!"
"Because I love you," finished Dean.
Cas stared, whatever had been on the tip of his tongue now stifled. "Oh," was finally all he could muster. And then he frowned and studied the path beneath his feet. He looked back up at Dean, his cheeks flushed very pink. "Anyway, come along now." He turned and walked ahead, and Dean followed him.
"We're at Sylvia's house," said Dean, recognizing it instantly. But it was different. The curtains were all opened, and they could hear noises and laughing voices within. The door was thrown open before they had even reached the porch.
"Dean! Cas!" said Robert Phillips, holding out his arms for a large and very sincere hugs. He was barefoot, and grinning and looked quite the opposite of his Dr. Sexy character. "I was just meditating," he enthused.
Sylvia was sitting down on the floor in front of the coffee table, typing away on a large manual typewriter. "Hey boys!" she said, not pausing in her typing. "Cas, Dean. This is Mac." A tall man, nearly as tall as Sam but maybe half as wide, stood up from the couch opposite and extended a hand.
Dean was trembling as he shook Mac's hand. "Omigod. You're MacArthur Hecht?" he stammered. Cas frowned at him, puzzled.
Sylvia finally looked up, her eyes glowing. "Mac is my writing partner. He went missing and we all assumed…. Anyway, he came to me. In my dream. And now Robert and I, we’re heading up to Vancouver.”
Dean gasped, realizing the implications. “You’re gonna write Dr. Sexy again!”
“Volume 26,” laughed Robert, who had plopped down on the couch in back of Sylvia. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head.
“This is the greatest news ever!” Dean boomed. “Somebody find some champagne or something!”
“I was thinking maybe you’d wanna come up, Dean,” said Sylvia. “Film a cameo? I mean if you’re still in the neighborhood.”
“WHAT?” said Dean, who looked like he might fall over dead.
“Maybe we can have him play the brain damaged patient,” laughed Robert.
"You could help too, Cas," Sylvia told him, smiling.
"We're doing angels this time," said Mac. "Fuck the networks!"
"Fight the power," laughed Sylvia, raising a fist.
"This is great," said Dean. "We'll get Sammy...."
“I dunno about Sam," grinned Sylvia. "He’s found a girl.”
“What? When?" asked Dean.
"Five minutes ago," said Sylvia, checking her watch.
“You Winchesters are … impetuous," noted Cas.
“That’s us!” Dean admitted.
"You boys are gonna have a lot on your plates," said Sylvia. "A mission! But I'm not allowed to tell you. They said I could contact you about the guest star, though, since we still don't have cell phones back."
"I've already got a mission in mind!" said Dean. Cas looked up at him, puzzled.
Dean awoke with an angel drooling into his chest. He looked down, carding his fingers through the hopelessly messy black hair.
Cas stirred, and muttered something incomprehensible into Dean's sternum.
"C'mon Cas, wake up."
The angel blinked up at him, his eyes filled with sleep. "Dean."
“C'mon Cas. Get your pants. We got a mission."
"Mission?" slurred the angel.
"Dr. Sexy! We gotta go track down volume 20 before the new season starts. Come on. Let's go!"
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.
“We're screwed.”
Dean crawled back from the edge of the roof on his belly and, once he was far enough back, sat up. He held up a hand and Sam helped him to his feet.
“The whole lake?” asked Sam, who now assisted a sniffling Cas to his feet as well.
“You wanna go look?” asked Dean. “The whole shore of the lake – every single landing point – is crowded with fucking Croats. Cas wasn't kidding. Lucifer has it in for us.”
Cas sneezed. Dean blinked at him. “You OK, buddy?” The angel, who was already looking a bit the worse for wear, now sported a bright pink nose.
“I feel a little … under the weather?” said Cas.
“I think it's a rare side effect of the antidote?” Sam shrugged.
“Great, just our luck!” said Dean. Cas sneezed again, and wiped it on his trench coat sleeve. Sam handed over a tissue. “OK, look, Cas,” said Dean, taking Cas's shoulders in his two hands. “I know you're not feeling great, but we really gotta clear off at least an area so Benny can come save our asses. You think you can manage it? If Sammy and I keep the Croats away long enough for you to power up?”
“Dean, the problem with my power isn't too little, it's too much,” sniffled Cas. “I might have trouble keeping it to the shore. I might end up … hurting people in the boat!”
“Yeah, but we were all right sitting in the car, right by you,” said Dean.
“I know. But Dean...” Cas looked into his eyes. “I feel like crap right now.”
“Yeah, I know. It sucks. But if you can pull yourself together for this....” Dean scowled. “I tell you what, you pull yourself together, when we get the fuck outta Seattle, you stay in bed a week! And I'll bring you chicken soup and tea and porn movies and whatever the fuck you want!”
Cas's eyes strayed questioningly over to Sam, who was guffawing. “Cas, I know you're hurting man, but I'd take the offer. Dean never coddles sick people. Believe me.”
“Sammy's right. I don't. I'm an asshole. Ask him about the day I dropped him off at school with a 102 temperature.”
“It's true,” said Sam, nodding frantically at the charming Winchester family memory.
Cas got a dubious look on his face, but finally nodded. “All right, let's go,” said Dean.
They made their way downstairs, Cas sniffling all the way, and then proceeded down to where they were within sight of the shores of Lake Union.
“You need to be...?” Dean started.
“As close as possible, yes,” Cas nodded, wiping his nose.
“Yeah, I was afraid of that. Sammy, you good?”
Sam nodded, although he was anything but good with this.
“And I can’t fight while I’m … powering up,” Cas reminded them. He stopped and pulled his sword from the scabbard. Dean nodded to Sam, who noticed that the nearby Croats had picked up on their presence. A few went from milling around to wandering in their direction. He knew that once one or two attacked, it would just mean more. He glanced nervously back at Cas, who already seemed lost in his own world.
There was a howl and a thump, and Sam saw Dean had downed the first one. He whirled around, swinging the fire axe he’d grabbed at the pharmaceutical company, and connected with a Croat skull. He reversed, managing to jab another in the stomach, and then downed another with the blade. Cas was doing that thing where he looked like he was posing for Ninja Weekly. “Can we hurry it up?” Sam muttered, knowing it would do absolutely no good.
The thing with Croats was to keep moving, something that was impossible if you were defending a currently motionless angel. When you stayed put, you were just inviting them to crowd you. Sam struck out again, and again. More of them meant more of them, and they seemed attracted to commotions, which is exactly what you got, fighting Croats.
Sam hit, and hit, and hit, and then the fucking axe got caught in a skull and it was gory so it slipped from his hands just as another one came around and he stepped back and hit a muddy patch and fell on his ass and started to crawl away and then….
WHUMP! Benny’s club downed one, and then another, and then another.
“BENNY!” yelled Sam. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed his axe back, and looked down towards the water, where Balthazar was holding off a mob.
“What the fuck is that?” asked Dean, pointing to the ship that was waiting on the lake, a rope ladder hanging down to the beach.
“Wanna sail my new yacht, boys?” laughed Benny.
“JUST 4 KIX?” asked Sam.
“We gotta rename the sucker soon as I can get the paint. What the fuck is your angel up to?”
The answer came as Cas suddenly moved, quick as lightning.
“Hit the deck!” screamed Dean, but Benny and Sam were already down, and Balthazar suddenly turned and leapt back into the boat.
It was dark as dusk, and there was a sudden drop in air pressure, like before an oncoming storm.
And then a faint tremble, just for one, two, three, four seconds.
Sam stayed on the ground, but after hearing and feeling nothing for a few moments, risked poking his head up. He jumped to his feet, and was quick enough to grab Cas just before the angel crumpled to the ground.
“That was it?” asked Benny, who was also lumbering to his feet.
“Look,” said Dean, pointing with his axe.
Every single Croat was down, not just in the area, but as far as the eye could see, up and down the shoreline. And the ones on the far shore had stopped moving as well. Dean toed one nearby, and it emitted a soft sigh. “Watch it!” he said, now holding up his axe. “They’re still alive!”
Benny looked around. “Hey! Is that … sirens?” he asked.
Sam looked up towards the city, and saw flashing lights approaching.
“Boys! Let’s get out of here!” Balthazar called from the ship.
Benny and Sam broke for the ship, and Dean grabbed Cas and half carried him down towards the beach just as the first police car pulled up and stopped nearby.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Lucifer bellowed.
Dean hopped onto the rope ladder after Sam. “Cas hurry up!” he yelled down at Castiel.
Cas looked up, and then turned and stalked towards Lucifer. “I’ll hold him off,” he muttered.
“You’ll…. Cas! Oh, what the fuck,” said Dean, jumping off the ladder as well. “Benny,” he called up, giving the craft a push. “Take off! Now!” The engine roared to life, and the craft shuddered and started to pull out.
“Dean, no!” screamed Sam, but his brother ignored him, and the ship was already backing away. “Goddammit!”
“What do we do, Sammy?” asked Benny, who was staring at him sympathetically.
Sam looked frantically towards the retreating shore, but then appeared to form a plan. “OK, OK, wait, Garth?” Garth nodded at Sam. “Make for the opposite shore! Now!”
“You have an idea?” asked Balthazar.
Sam was fishing the metal box full of antidote out of his bag. He opened it and examined the contents. “Yeah. I got an idea. And I’ll need everybody’s help. Everybody, roll up your sleeves!”
“Uhhhhh, we ain’t gonna get poked, are we?” worried Benny.
“Yeah, that’s the first part,” said Sam, who pushing on a plunger and watching a bit of liquid squirt out of the hypodermic needle in his hand. “Now if you’ll-“
There was a crash, as Benny fainted dead away onto the deck.
“I guess our friend don’t like needles,” grinned Garth.
“Lucifer,” said Cas.
“Tut. You’ve looked better, Castiel,” said Lucifer, crossing his arms and grinning down at Cas. “Still enamored with your human friends? Because I can’t say the association has done you good.”
“Fuck off, Lucifer,” growled Dean, who grabbed a shaky Cas under his arm. Cas cast a panicked look at him.
“They are loyal little things, I’ll give them that,” laughed Lucifer, who had been joined by the angels who had made it off the ferry dock. “Will you be terribly upset when I snap his neck?”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Cas told Lucifer, a warning tone in his voice.
“And why not? You’ll see. It will be fun.”
“Boss?” said Chazaquiel. “The ship is getting away. The prophet!” But Lucifer waved him off.
“Gabriel told me you control the Croats,” said Cas.
Lucifer smiled and stared at his fingernails in a parody of modesty. “Oh, it’s just a little talent. Barely worth mentioning.”
“So do I,” stated Cas, raising his sword.
“Oh, you do not, you pathetic little prevaricator.”
“I put them in this sleep,” said Cas, nodding his head to indicate the unconscious Croats who were scattered up and down the beach. “I can wake them up.”
“You,” said Lucifer, pointing at him, “are and have always been a horrendous liar.”
“So you can see I must not be lying.”
Lucifer actually looked uncertain. He glanced over at Dean, and then back to Cas. “You can barely stand.”
“Lucifer,” said Chazaquiel.
“Shut up!” Lucifer told Chazaquiel. He turned back to Cas. “You’re bluffing. And making a poor job of it.”
“Lucifer the boat is getting away.”
“I know the boat is getting away!” yelled Lucifer, rounding on his henchman.
“It’s on the other shore!” yelled the albino, pointing out across the lake.
“What?” asked Lucifer. “What the hell are they doing?”
“Hold me steady, Dean,” Cas whispered.
“Cas….”
“Just do as I say,” Cas warned him. He quietly brought up the sword, and then flicked it slightly.
Lucifer was fuming. “Go after them!” he shouted. “See what they’re up to!” He turned at the sound of moans. Several Croats had woken up, and one of them was now shuffling towards him. “Wait! Fuck!”
“You can actually do that?” Dean whispered to Cas, who was now trembling.
“As long as I stay conscious.” Cas flicked the sword again, and more Croats rose. All of them seemed to be making a bee-line for Lucifer.
“Get them out of here!” yelled Lucifer as Chazaquiel punched out a woman who had strayed rather too close to him.
“Wait! You want us to go after the other guys or get these guys?” asked a confused minion who was standing up near the car.
“Get these guys first, then go after the other guys!” yelled Lucifer.
“Angels ain’t the sharpest tool. No offense,” Dean muttered to Cas, who chuckled, and then sneezed.
“Don’t be worried about air bubbles,” Sam told Garth. “These people are already dead anyway.”
“I wanna do it right,” said Garth, who was insistently flicking at his hypodermic needle. Benny, who remained a bit pale looking (if one may indeed say that of a vampire) remained aboard the JUST 4 KIX. As it turned out, he had always hated needles. Meanwhile, Sam, Balthazar and Garth ran around immunizing every Croat in sight.
“Lucifer can kill us,” Sam repeated, “but I bet he can’t kill every single one of these guys.”
“Sam! Your brother!” yelled Benny. He was up on deck, holding a pair of binoculars.
“Is he OK?”
“Those Croats over there are wakin’ up!” Benny yelled back.
Sam frowned and scaled the rope ladder to the JUST 4 KIX. Benny handed off the binoculars. “It appears that our undead friends wanna eat Luci for a meal.”
Sam shoved the binoculars back at Benny and ran to call Balthazar and Garth. “Get back here you guys! We gotta go pick up Dean and Cas now!”
“I’ve got an air bubble!” yelled Garth.
“Fuck your air bubble!” Sam yelled down.
“That ain’t polite! Had you looked in to meditation, my friend?”
“Just get back in the damn boat.” Balthazar grabbed Garth by the scruff of the neck and basically threw him at the rope ladder.
Cas was still waking Croats faster than Lucifer could deal with them. Dean was growing more and more worried, though, as Cas had gone from trembling to outright shaking in his grasp. Dean was the only thing holding him up.
Dean cast a look backwards, and then put his mouth on Cas’s ear. “Cas! Sam is coming! The boat turned around! Just hold on a minute. Hold on!”
Cas nodded but didn’t say anything. He sneezed.
“No you idiots!” Lucifer raved as the pile of Croat carcasses around him grew ever larger. “Get him! Go kill Castiel!” Several of the angel minions suddenly looked up from what they were doing to glare at Dean and Cas.
“Oh, shit,” said Dean. He turned back around. “Hurry up, Sammy. Goddammit.”
The angels were being delayed by Croats, but a couple of them had managed to break free and now approached Dean with murder in their eyes.
“OK, down you go,” said Dean, as gently as possible lowering Cas to the ground. He gripped his axe, idly wondering if it worked on angels, while Cas, with a moan, wilted down to collapse at his feet.
He cast his eyes back and forth between the angels, wondering which of them would strike out first. There was a slim, dark one, and a really big redheaded guy.
He fixed his grip on the axe.
Cas whimpered.
The redhead lunged. Dean pivoted and raised his axe….
And then it all went black.
“I hope this isn't a bad time?”
Dean was the first to recover, jumping up and looking around frantically. He had expected to be dead. Instead he seemed to be in some kind of....
“I trust you still fancy pizza?” Death inquired politely, waving a hand around the pizza parlor.
Sam was there as well, and he and Dean exchanged a confused glance.
“Uh, yeah, thanks, Death,” said Dean. “I could, uh, go for some pizza. And maybe a beer?”
“I always prefer wine, but I suppose we could scrape something up,” said Death, nodding at Tessa.
“May I politely inquire where the fuck are we?” growled Benny.
Dean helped a shaky Cas to his feet and looked around the room to make sure they were all present. He heaved a sigh to see they were. “Uh, Benny. Garth. Balthazar. This is....”
“Death,” said Balthazar, going to shake his hand. “You will forgive me if I did not wish to encounter you at this point in my existence.”
“I assure you, I only wish to discuss business with the Winchester brothers at this point.”
“Uh, hey Death,” said Garth. It came out as sort of a yelp, and Dean noticed with some little amusement that the ship's captain made no move to embrace Death.
“Hola,” said Benny. He stood still as a statue, his eyes dancing around the place, searching, Dean knew, for an escape route.
“You haven't any reason to fear either, my friend,” Death told the vampire. “Though I am not, as you might understand, favorably inclined towards those of your race, you have proved quite useful in this present venture. I believe, Tessa, that we may have some AB negative in the pantry?”
“I'll go check,” said Tessa agreeably, as she deposited a wine bottle on the table, and a few frosty bottles of beer. Dean strode to the table and took a grateful guzzle of the beer. Tessa uncorked the wine.
Cas sneezed and fell into a chair. Tessa handed him a box of Kleenex, and departed for the kitchen.
“Perhaps some nice chicken soup for Mr. Castiel?” Death told Tessa.
“T'ank you,” snorted Cas. Dean sat down beside him, resting his arm on the back of Cas's chair.
“Home style chicken soup,” said Death, taking a seat at the head of the table. “My new cook's specialty I have found it cures everything.”
Sam went to sit beside Death. “We think it's a reaction to the vaccine.” Bahthazar seated himself as well, and then Garth, and finally, with a last look around the restaurant, Benny.
“Yes,” said Death, helping himself to some red wine. “That was very good work on that matter. And even though the rest of you fellows were not involved in the negotiations, please be aware that you have earned my gratitude.” Death picked up the wine and swirled the glass, sniffing the bouquet.
Benny looked over his shoulder, where Tessa was pouring a thick red liquid into a wine glass for him. “Fresh AB negative,” she said.
“Uh, my thanks, darlin',” Benny told her. “Uh, cin cin,” he said, raising the glass to Death. The crowd raised glasses and beer bottles while Tessa handed out menus.
“I must warn you, I'm starting a new chef, so orders might sometimes be a little delayed,” warned Death.
Sam put down the menu and gave Death a sharp look. “Delayed? Like, exactly how long could they be delayed?”
“Oh,” sighed Death. “There's no telling. It could be hours.”
Sam and Dean exchanged a look.
“Uh, like 24 hours?” asked Dean, hopefully.
Death smiled and opened his menu. “Would anyone care for suggestions?” Cas sneezed. “Gesundheit,” Death told him. “Did we need more soup? I’ll call the chef.” Death signaled to Tessa.
“Oh, don’ bodder. Really,” said Cas as Tessa disappeared into the kitchen.
“WHICH OF YOU IDJITS IS SCARFING DOWN ALL MY SOUP?” yelled a very familiar voice. Dean and Sam exchanged an astonished glance.
Bobby’s ghost came storming out, soup tureen in his hand. “Oh, it’s an angel idjit! That figures. You bastards are garbage guts, all of you.”
“Uh, hey, Bobby,” said Dean cautiously, as Bobby’s agitated spirit ladled more soup into Cas’s bowl.
“Dank you, Bobby,” sniffled Cas.
“Hey, Bobby,” smiled Sam. “How you doin’, man?”
“I can’t complain!” said Bobby, waving the ladel. “The hours are good, and that waitress is a doll!” Tessa, who was standing just outside the kitchen, winked at Bobby.
“Dis is bery flaborful,” Cas agreed, taking another grateful spoonful.
“Least you ain’t got a sweet tooth. Not like your brother!”
Cas’s eyes widened. “Gabriel?” he whispered.
“If you mean the short loudmouth, yeah. Now, I gotta go make some pizzas for a bunch of dumbasses.” And with that, Bobby stormed back into the kitchen.
“Never trust a fair tempered chef, I always say,” grinned Death. “Their irritability is directly correlated, I’ve found, with their skill level.”
“Has he seen Gabriel?” Cas asked Death.
Death looked towards Cas, smiling. “Bobby is new here, so he spoke out of turn. I would never say such a thing of my kitchen staff.”
“I really feel fine.”
“The week isn’t up. You’re probably still shedding virus!”
“Isn’t that the point?” said Cas, who was buried under a million blankets and propped up on an equal number of pillows.
“I said you’d stay in bed a week, didn’t I?” asked Dean, who, even though fully clothed, cheerily invited himself to stretch out on the bed alongside Cas after placing the breakfast tray carefully on a bedside table. “Besides, isn’t this great? A house in the suburbs. It’s even got a fucking white picket fence.” Dean unscrewed the cap on one of the beers and handed another over to Cas.
Cas sat up. “Don’t you think all this is horrible?” he asked, waving the beer around.
“Hey, careful, don’t spill your beer. Oh, yeah, it’s pretty horrible,” Dean cheerily agreed.
“Dean, this has been very, very nice of you, finding this empty house out in Bellevue….”
“Wasn’t hard, they’re mostly empty.”
“Well, that brings up the issue: what if the owner wakes up and comes around wanting his house back?”
Dean lay back, balancing the beer bottle on his belly. It was true, the antidote was working, and Croats in the vicinity were slowly but surely waking up with, one presumed, massive hangovers.
It wasn’t all sunshine and unicorns shitting rainbows, of course. The Croatoan virus had made a lot of badly injured people functionally immortal, so the antidote actually came as a death sentence for some. There weren’t, after all, a whole lot of functioning hospitals right now. For every dozen that awakened, there was a body or two to account for.
And then there was the whole issue of the mess the apocalypse had made of the infrastructure. Beside the human toll, there was going to be a lot of cleaning up before things got back to any semblance of normal.
And added to the general chaos was the fact that no one knew what had become of Lucifer. Well, Dean admitted, Death probably knew, but they really owed the dude, so he wasn’t inclined to go hitting the guy up for any more favors. Though his pizza was fucking awesome.
But Dean found it difficult to worry about all this, especially since Cas seemed so eager to take on the role of Official Winchester Worrywart. Dean thought maybe later he’d have to duke it out with Sam over the role. But right now, his brother was safe, and he had an angel who smelled like spices lying in a big, warm bed.
“Dean?”
“Oh, uh, yeah,” said Dean. “Look,” he said, rolling over on his belly. “We’ll be outta here by then I’m sure.”
“It seems like we’ve been here forever already,” grumbled Cas. “Can I at least go out on the porch and have a smoke?"
“No! You got a respiratory illness, so no cigarettes. Besides, you shouldn’t smoke.”
“Why the hell not?”
“It’ll stunt your growth.”
Cas had murder in his eyes, but was distracted by an enthusiastic knocking on the door.
“Hey! You guys in there?” hollered Sam.
“We’re in bed! Doing really disgusting things!” Dean yelled back.
“Yeah,” said Sam, barging in regardless. “Fully clothed, huh?”
“Wanna see?” asked Dean.
“No. Why are you fully clothed?” asked Sam.
“I’m bringing Cas breakfast in bed.”
“Two beers?” asked Sam.
“When you get your dream girl, then you get to make her your version of breakfast in bed?”
“I’m your … dream girl?” sputtered a glowering Cas.
“What’s up?” Dean asked as Sam thumped down on the bed.
“Seriously. Benny has started acting agitated about getting back to his ‘home soil,’ and I was thinking now that Cas is better….”
“He’s got three more days!” stated Dean.
“I’m perfectly fine, Sam,” said Cas, who was still glaring over the “dream girl” comment.
“Maybe we could start heading back?” said Sam.
“I’m not going back, Sam,” Dean informed him.
“What?”
“It’s not for me, back there,” said Dean. Sam peered at Cas, who was shaking his head, as if he had heard this before. “I was born for-“
“The open road,” chorused Cas, in a not bad imitation of Dean’s voice.
Dean glared at Cas, and started, “They can’t-“
“Tie me down,” said Cas.
“That’s annoying,” said Dean, Cas echoing every cadence, and Sam desperately tried not to fall off the bed laughing. “Stop that!”
“OK, OK,” said Sam, waving for them to stop. “We can talk about it later. What I wanted to do was go out for a walk. I’m pretty sure I’ve spotted people in this neighborhood. I mean, people people. And I wanted to see if any of them are out.”
“The Croats are really moving back in?” asked Dean, giving a worried glance at Cas.
“I dunno if they’re Croats or just folks who stuck it out. But Balthazar and Benny are too fucking lazy to come along, and I didn’t wanna go alone.”
“We’ll come with you, Sam,” said Cas making to rise.
Dean pushed him back. “No we’re not.”
“You need to let me out of this bed!”
“Or what?”
“Or….” Cas cast around for a threat. He looked at Sam and grinned. “Or else I’ll make one of those faces Sam makes!”
Sam glared.
“Oh, there’s no way you could do wounded puppy dog,” laughed Dean.
“I bet I could,” glared Cas, who looked nothing like a puppy.
“No way,” said Dean as Cas suddenly contorted his features into something that resembled less and angel and more perhaps a bull moose in heat.
Dean fell off the bed.
“I so do not look like that,” pouted Sam.
“Are you kidding? That’s fucking perfect!” said Dean, who had just managed to raise himself up on two elbows.
Cas had already sprung off the bed. “So we’re going.”
“Yeah, I guess,” laughed Dean. “Sammy, you give us a minute to find the angel some pants?” he added, as Cas was currently wearing only badly torn sweatpants and an equally well-worn AC/DC T-shirt.
Sam nodded and left. Cas was already headed towards the bathroom, stripping off his T-shirt.
“Hey,” said Dean.
“What?” Cas called over his shoulder.
“The bruises! They’ve faded.”
Cas, who was in the bathroom by now, frowned at his own mirrored image, and then pivoted around to glimpse his back over his shoulder. Dean was right, the angry purple contusions had much faded and shrunk down.
“That’s strange. It’s been that way for a year.” He was distracted enough that he didn’t see Dean coming, only felt the hands on his waist, hoisting him up to the bathroom counter. Dean put a hand on each thigh and found Cas’s mouth with his own. “It’s strange,” Cas repeated as the clench broke.
“It’s good, right?” Dean muttered into his neck.
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Cas tried to look back in the mirror again, but was stopped by Dean pulling him back around for more open-mouthed kisses. “Your brother is waiting,” Cas murmured.
“Did I tell you you smell really good?” Dean whispered, pushing Cas’s legs farther apart.
“Yes. But you can tell me again.”
It didn’t take long to get the sweatpants off.
Sam waited a few minutes with increasing impatience, until he heard a rhythmic thumping emitting from the bedroom, and realized he’d be waiting for quite some time.
“Ah, to hell with it,” he grumbled. He grabbed his coat and headed for the door, remembering to also pick up a shotgun. Since the Croat menace was fading, they wouldn’t have to be as paranoid about making noise, although ammo remained scarce.
Sam made sure the door was closed behind him and then made for the front gate. Despite the house being in fact inside a gated community, the owners had been paranoid enough to erect yet another high fence around the premises. He wondered why the owners hadn’t remained here, as it also appeared to have a stocked up larder as well as backup generators. A rich but stupid person, he reckoned. Sam detested gated communities on principle, though he reflected that he had benefited from them during the Croat situation.
Although he was supposed to be on alert, Sam’s mind drifted as he walked. It was nice, walking. It was something he hadn’t been able to do since they left the camp so many miles ago. And even there, he was likely to run into someone who wanted something from him, or wanted him to squeal about where Dean had run off to. He had understood why Dean was now daydreaming about taking off. For his elder brother it must seem like a weight off his shoulders to be away from there, even if it meant sometimes literally fighting for his life.
Though Sam wasn’t at all certain he completely approved of Dean’s current choice in a partner in crime. An angel with death powers? Sam sure as hell didn’t want to be in the house when they had their first fight. And knowing his mercurial brother, it was bound to happen.
His mind had drifted to how to force pharmaceutical companies to employ angel-proofing for their dangerous materials when it happened. He never heard it coming, and didn’t realize he was in danger until he was sprawled on the sidewalk, a great weight on his back, panic rising.
He felt something wet drop on his neck, and with some effort, he rolled over and felt it bounce off. He reached out a hand.
It was a drool-covered tennis ball.
And then there was a muzzle in his face, nuzzling his nose.
“Get off!” howled Sam.
“Max!” came a female shout.
Sam sat up and looked around, gripping the dog by the collar. “Max?” he asked. The dog barked happily. It was weird, it looked just like the Max who liked to root around in his prophetic dreams.
“MAX!” came the voice again, and now she was standing not ten feet from Sam, a petite blonde, gripping a shotgun. She peered at Sam, keeping her distance.
The dog tore away from Sam’s grip and bounded up to the girl. “Uh, I’m sorry. He gets over-enthusiastic sometimes.”
“It’s OK,” Sam assured her. He stood. He felt a little banged up, but everything seemed to be in working order. He turned his attention to the girl, who was not half bad looking. In fact, now that he had time to assess the situation, she was quite cute.
“He’s never gotten off the leash before,” she was saying.
“It’s OK,” said Sam. “I like dogs!” He took a cautious step forward, extending a hand. “Sam.”
She gave him a critical once-over, and finally extended her own. “Jessica,” she said.
“You gave it a push!”
Two angels had settled on the hillside. As they were true formed angels, there wouldn’t have been room for many more than two. The first, who was larger and darker, fluffed his wings in irritation.
The second, smaller and fleeter, answered back, “What?”
“You gave it a push! It’s against the rules.” And the dark, angry wings got another flap.
“I pushed the dog. You can push the dog.”
“You are in violation, Gabriel!”
“Aw, don’t sweat it, Raph,” grinned Gabriel, settling back and watching Sam, Jessica and Max walk off.
“It’s Raphael, not Raph. And I will sweat it. Grigori are supposed to watch. You know, we are currently not on the best terms with our Father, else we would not have pulled the worst-"
“The best assignment!” grinned Gabriel, arching his great golden wings in sheer happiness. “Anyway, our work here is done.”
“Our work?”
“Wanna go hit up Death?” asked Gabriel, scrambling to his feet. There were many trees on earth that were not as tall as Gabriel in his true form.
“Oh not again. I think you irritate him.”
“Whaddya mean? Death loves me! We’ll go get some spumoni. And then maybe we can do some dream walking.”
"You two!" There was now quite suddenly a third true formed angel on the hill. He was sized midway between the two, and had six pairs of magnificent wings, all of which were arched up in irritation.
"Camael," said Raphael, guiltily.
"Hey, Cam!" Said Gabriel brightly.
"What are you two troublemakers up to now?" asked the Seraph sternly, although there was a note of affection in his voice.
"Gabriel pushed a dog!" tattled Raphael.
"Shaddap, Raphie."
The two angels pushed each other, as if getting prepared to grapple.
"Knock it off, boys," ordered Camael, his true voice stern. "You are Grigori. Not idiots." He frowned. "Come along now. We have some dream walking to do."
And then he was there no more.
"Yeah, c'mom, Raphy-boy," said Gabriel, disappearing after him.
"Raphael!" boomed Raphael. And then he too was there no longer.
Dean looked around in confusion at the tree-lined walk.
"Hello, Dean."
"Hey Humpty Dumpty," Dean told the angel sitting up on the concrete fence, smoking a cigarette.
"Did you know," asked Cas, gracefully hopping down, "that nowhere in the poem is Humpty Dumpty referred to as an egg?" Dean scowled, so Cas continued, "I looked up the nursery rhyme after your brother made the same reference when I encountered him in a dream."
"So this is my dream?" asked Dean.
Cas took a drag in his cigarette. "No."
"Then I'm in your dream?" Dean asked, gesturing for the cigarette.
"No," said Cas, handing off the cigarette. "We are evidently sharing a post-coital nap, and have both been pulled into someone else's dream. Hey!" he added as Dean stamped out the cigarette.
"No more smoking. Not even in dreamland," Dean said decisively. "Because-"
Cas stood erect. "I have already achieved my full height!"
"Because I love you," finished Dean.
Cas stared, whatever had been on the tip of his tongue now stifled. "Oh," was finally all he could muster. And then he frowned and studied the path beneath his feet. He looked back up at Dean, his cheeks flushed very pink. "Anyway, come along now." He turned and walked ahead, and Dean followed him.
"We're at Sylvia's house," said Dean, recognizing it instantly. But it was different. The curtains were all opened, and they could hear noises and laughing voices within. The door was thrown open before they had even reached the porch.
"Dean! Cas!" said Robert Phillips, holding out his arms for a large and very sincere hugs. He was barefoot, and grinning and looked quite the opposite of his Dr. Sexy character. "I was just meditating," he enthused.
Sylvia was sitting down on the floor in front of the coffee table, typing away on a large manual typewriter. "Hey boys!" she said, not pausing in her typing. "Cas, Dean. This is Mac." A tall man, nearly as tall as Sam but maybe half as wide, stood up from the couch opposite and extended a hand.
Dean was trembling as he shook Mac's hand. "Omigod. You're MacArthur Hecht?" he stammered. Cas frowned at him, puzzled.
Sylvia finally looked up, her eyes glowing. "Mac is my writing partner. He went missing and we all assumed…. Anyway, he came to me. In my dream. And now Robert and I, we’re heading up to Vancouver.”
Dean gasped, realizing the implications. “You’re gonna write Dr. Sexy again!”
“Volume 26,” laughed Robert, who had plopped down on the couch in back of Sylvia. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head.
“This is the greatest news ever!” Dean boomed. “Somebody find some champagne or something!”
“I was thinking maybe you’d wanna come up, Dean,” said Sylvia. “Film a cameo? I mean if you’re still in the neighborhood.”
“WHAT?” said Dean, who looked like he might fall over dead.
“Maybe we can have him play the brain damaged patient,” laughed Robert.
"You could help too, Cas," Sylvia told him, smiling.
"We're doing angels this time," said Mac. "Fuck the networks!"
"Fight the power," laughed Sylvia, raising a fist.
"This is great," said Dean. "We'll get Sammy...."
“I dunno about Sam," grinned Sylvia. "He’s found a girl.”
“What? When?" asked Dean.
"Five minutes ago," said Sylvia, checking her watch.
“You Winchesters are … impetuous," noted Cas.
“That’s us!” Dean admitted.
"You boys are gonna have a lot on your plates," said Sylvia. "A mission! But I'm not allowed to tell you. They said I could contact you about the guest star, though, since we still don't have cell phones back."
"I've already got a mission in mind!" said Dean. Cas looked up at him, puzzled.
Dean awoke with an angel drooling into his chest. He looked down, carding his fingers through the hopelessly messy black hair.
Cas stirred, and muttered something incomprehensible into Dean's sternum.
"C'mon Cas, wake up."
The angel blinked up at him, his eyes filled with sleep. "Dean."
“C'mon Cas. Get your pants. We got a mission."
"Mission?" slurred the angel.
"Dr. Sexy! We gotta go track down volume 20 before the new season starts. Come on. Let's go!"
