Seven Hells, Part 10 of ?
Jan. 24th, 2013 12:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: Seven Hells, Part 10 of ?
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikific
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam, Garth, Kevin, Linda Tran, Benny, Crowley, Meg, Inias, Naomi, Metatron, Odin, Kali
Warnings: Cursing. Sexual situations. Spoilers up to 8.08, and then we veer off into an AU and never look back. There are OCs here: some I’ve invented, some I’ve ripped off from various religious mythologies, and some I’ve rebooted from the SPN canon. Also, no beta. If that’s going to raise your blood pressure, then do yourself a favor and read something else.
Word Count: 90,000 (individual chapters are around 5,000)
Summary: Sam, Dean and Cas, along with an alliance of pagan lords of the underworld, battle with Crowley over the Word of God. But the boys soon discover there is another, more malignant threat looming in the shadows.
Notes: This is an AU storyline, which fundamentally diverges from what they’re currently doing on the show. And thank Zeus for that.
“So you say you're retired?” asked Sam. They had migrated to a comfortable sitting room, where they were all sipping a rich, amber whiskey, and Odin, Dean and Metatron were enjoying Cuban cigars.
“Yeah, I walked out,” said Metatron. She had changed from her riding outfit to a sweater and blue jeans. Since she had actually excused herself to do so, Dean figured she didn’t use angel mojo. He was still thinking he'd seen her in an old movie.
“What happened?” Sam urged.
Metatron puffed thoughtfully on her cigar. “For all the millennia, I was a faithful soldier in service of the Lord. I fought valiantly in His name. And then one day, Michael called me in and told me they had a new job for me: the old man's secretary, basically. From warrior of God to taking dictation! My sweet aunt.” She tapped out some ashes, her eyes blazing with the memory.
“Michael can be kind of a douche,” said Dean.
“You said it, buddy,” said Metatron.
“And I take it you didn't like the new job?” asked Sam, pulling a face and irritably batting away the smoke from his brother's cigar.
Metatron sat back in her chair. “Well, if you don't know Him, the old man can be moody as hell, and He just got worse after Lucifer left. You know, I told Him He was spoiling the feathers off that little brat. But He tends to get sentimental. And anyway, the writing down all his pontification wasn't the worst part, as it turns out.”
Sam looked at Dean, who was evidently too busy wallowing in his cigar to return the gesture. “What was the worst part?”
Metatron pointed two fingers to her own head. “As soon as I got done with one of these things, he'd blank out my memory, so I couldn't recall what I'd just written. 'Very secret Metatron, can't let the Word get out prematurely.' That was over my limit. I mean, yeah, maybe you're the Lord God of all creation, but don't be a dick!” She pounded a fist on the armrest, her eyes blazing. “So when we were all done, I grabbed myself a tablet and took off. Sent myself off on a little tour of the cosmos.
“But after a while I started getting homesick. I thought about where I might be welcome here on earth, and decided Valhalla would be a good place for an ex-soldier like me. Especially given what I was carrying.”
Odin flicked his cigar ashes into an ashtray. “In case you boys haven't guessed, she was carrying the tablet that carries the Word of God regarding the pagan gods.”
“That one was all very hush-hush. He didn’t want anybody to know He even acknowledged them,” Metatron told them.
“Who else besides us knows about this, Odin?” asked Dean.
“Besides you boys, very few. Hel of course: she knows all our secrets. I've told Hades. He can be a prick, but he’s a strong ally. And Kali and some of her folks, so Yamaraja knows. I gave them back her son, Ganesha, the Lord of Hosts. That's how Bibi knew to come looking for me when he had the … issue with Ruth.”
“If Metatron can read the tablets…” Sam began.
“Crowley wouldn’t stop ‘til he’d found you,” Dean concluded.
“Crowley? That little tin pot dictator?” snorted Metatron. “Hmpf.”
Odin sat forward, looking concerned. “We’ve got bigger worries, boys. Much bigger. And that’s why you need to swear to secrecy about all this.”
“Bigger worries than Crowley?” asked Sam. He gave Dean a, “What did we just sign ourselves up for?” look. But then he jumped as he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He listened for a moment and then held up a hand. “Excuse me,” he muttered, rising and wandering to the doorway as he said, “Yes, Mrs. Tran, I understand.”
“Talk about big worries,” said Dean. “Kevin's mom.”
“Kevin is your prophet?” asked Odin. Dean nodded. “Is he … in a secure location?”
Dean sighed. “As secure as we can get him. Garth has changed their safe house location several times. But I always feel like we're half a step behind Crowley and his goons.”
“I'd offer to take him up here,” said Odin, “but that's a worrying amount of eggs to have gathered in one basket. Especially after what happened the other day.”
“Oh!” said Metatron. “I wish I could volunteer to watch over him. I haven't pulled prophet duty in a dog's age.”
“You need to remain undercover for now, young lady,” scolded Odin.
Metatron waved her cigar at him. “Hey! I could play it low key.”
“An archangel on the loose is bound to draw attention.”
“Gabriel was good at hiding out,” said Dean.
“Gabriel! He was always such a cut-up,” said Metatron, giving a fond smile. “I miss that little runt.”
“We gotta get back,” said Sam, stepping back into the room and flipping his phone closed.
“What's up?” asked Dean. “Is Kevin okay?”
“No. But it’s not what you think,” he added, as Dean nervously stood up. “Another Tablet of the Lord has just popped up on the radar. And the Prophet Kevin is evidently climbing the walls.”
“We gotta get down there,” Dean agreed, immediately standing up. He looked at his half-finished cigar with regret.
“There's more smokes up here for you boys, Dean,” laughed Odin. “I’m sorry I can’t spare any personnel right now to look after young Kevin. But you go retrieve your testy prophet. I'll try and figure out something to help.”
“So, how do you know for sure there's another tablet?” asked Sam amiably. It was sort of a weird conversation, as one of the participants was currently tied down to a chair with electrical tape.
“My boy knows these things! He's a prophet of the Lord! And Advanced Placement,” Mrs. Tran maintained. She was not the bound person in question, although Dean had definitely considered it.
“How do I know there's half a fucking demon tablet out there?” spat Kevin. “I can’t block this stuff out!”
“Language,” chided Mrs. Tran.
“I can't fucking sleep at night over the stupid piece of rock your batshit pet angel broke in two! Believe me, I know when a new tablet is out there. And if you don't let me get it, so help me I'm gonna bust free and fucking kill myself.”
“We tried everything to calm that boy down,” said Garth, who looked like he hadn't slept in a good long while. “It's like an itch he can't scratch.”
“It's worse!” howled Kevin.
“You try getting him drunk?” asked Dean, to a death glare from Mrs. Tran.
“My boy doesn't imbibe,” she said primly.
“You know, I usually don't agree with my brother's hare brained schemes, but it might be worth it in this case.” As Sam watched, Kevin writhed in the chair, making it hop around the room. “Look,” said Sam, sliding a foot on to one of the chair legs to impede Kevin’s progress, “can you at least tell us where it's located?”
Kevin breathed in and out. “Idaho. Eastern Idaho. An archeological site. Along the Snake River.”
“We'll go take a look,” said Dean.
“What about me?” Kevin wailed.
“How's my favorite prophet?” asked Ruth who, along with Bibi, had just appeared inside the living room of Garth's safe house. “Odin sent us. We've decided Kevin is gonna spend the afternoon working on his med school applications.”
Kevin howled. “How can I apply to med school? Look at me. Look at me!”
“You could probably do surgery with your teeth,” said Ruth, tilting her head at him. “Anyway, you said if I completed mine, you'd do yours.”
“Wait, you're still intending on going to medical school, Ruth?” asked Sam.
“Bibi's family would never forgive me if I didn’t!” said Ruth, and Bibi put an affectionate hand on her shoulder.
“That's our Ruthie. Yeah, I promised my father I would marry a professional,” Bibi explained. “And I'll transport us all over to the site of the new tablet, if that's square with you blokes? I’m not an angel, but I reckon I do alright in a pinch.”
Dean looked dubious, as always, about a potential zap. “We should get there quickly,” Sam reasoned. He too looked dubious, though for different reasons.
"I am Isaiah, Guardian of the Tablet of Nebuchadnezzar, three hundred twenty-third of the blood. State your business." The teen looked back and forth between the two men in ill-fitting suits standing near the altar. They had been hanging around the church for the last day or so. Ever since those arrogant Winchester pricks had departed. They had probably run off tattling everything to Ruth. Well, let them. She wasn’t Guardian any more, he was.
“We are trying to locate an escaped an-“ the one guy began, but the second guy caught his arm.
“Locating a fugitive. We’re, uh, FBI,” explained the second guy.
Isaiah nodded. That explained the cheap suits and grim attitude. “Who are you looking for? You mean the Winchesters?” Isaiah hoped it was them. They would look good behind prison bars.
“A man who was with them,” said the second agent. “He was about my height. Dressed in an overcoat?”
“Oh, their demon buddy?” sniffed Isaiah.
“Demon?”
“Well, whatever he was,” Isaiah told them. “I guess he couldn’t be a demon, since he got past my warding magic.”
The agents exchanged a glance. “He’s an angel,” said the first, though his buddy tried to shush him.
Isaiah nodded knowingly. “He may have been an angel. Some scrawny little guy.”
“He is wanted. For crimes!” the first guy told him.
“Yeah, well, they all took off. I don’t know what happened to them after he fainted.”
“He … fainted?”
“Didn’t you see? Must have hit his head, because he bled all over the front steps.” Isaiah frowned. “Uh, not that I cared. Good riddance.”
“Did you happen to see what happened? After he, uh, fainted?” asked the second guy.
“Yeah, it was weird. They must have been going to a con.”
The men in suits exchanged another confused glance. “Come again?”
“You know, a convention?” He got baffled looks. These FBI guys, they really needed to get out more often! “Some kind of gaming con, or what have you. Anyway, these two cosplay chicks-“
“Cosplay?”
“Two chicks dressed up like Vikings came and met them. You know? Those fake geek girls who ruin cons.”
There was another silence. “Uh, Vikings did you say?”
“They were supposed to look like Vikings. Viking warrior girls. As if! Stupid, huh?”
“Valkyries?” asked the first guy.
It was Isaiah’s turn to cast a skeptical glance. “What are Valkyries?”
“Basically, Viking warrior girls.”
“Oh, yeah. I guess so.”
The agents looked at each other again. “I think that’s all we need. Uh. The FBI thanks you for your cooperation.”
And then there was a soft sound, like wings beating. And the agents were no longer there.
Isaiah looked around in puzzlement. “Strange dudes, FBI agents,” he muttered.
Dean was glaring around. “If this is an archaeological dig, where's Sam Neill? Aren't there supposed to be a bunch of nerd dudes hanging around with little toothbrushes?”
They were standing at the bottom of an ancient volcanic crater, squinting into a cave that had been carved out of one of the sheer walls. Bibi had managed to zap them to the lip of the crater, but they had had to find a way to descend to the bottom, in the dark. Fortunately, because of the archaeological work, the trail going down was well-marked, but it was a little difficult to manage in the low light.
Sam peered into the darkened cavern. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“We'll have to take care, you understand,” said Bibi. “I ain't an angel. Literally. If we get too deep, my transport powers don't work too well through solid rock.”
Bibi had pulled his saber out. Dean saw it flashing in the moonlight.
“Mine's cooler,” grinned Dean, holding up his axe.
“I saw your demon-cutter, Dean. Where did you nick such a flash blade?”
“Purgatory.”
“Ah!” Bibi held up his sword. “This little number was forged in the Lake of Fire.”
“Yeah, and we'll see it again on the Fourth of July,” snarked Sam, rolling his eyes. “Look, could we maybe quit comparing weaponry size and focus here?” To put it mildly, he was not cheerful about how Dean had been cozying up with all these pagan gods recently. Seriously, they were pagan gods. What was his brother thinking?
Dean and Bibi exchanged weaponry-related grins, and then the small party moved carefully into the cavern. They had brought along flashlights, but didn’t need to use them at this point, as the way was lit by halogen lights up on the wall. Water trickled in a thin stream down the floor.
“Wait, what's that up ahead?” asked Dean. They moved quickly to where the tunnel opened up into a large chamber.
Sam was the first to reach the still figures lying on the ground. There were about half a dozen of them. He checked for a pulse at one guy’s neck, and then shook his head.
“I think they're all gone, mate,” said Bibi.
“I don't see any marks on any of them,” said Dean. He sniffed the air. “And I don't smell sulfur.”
“This is a volcanic crater, right?” said Sam. “Sometimes they burp out poison gas clouds. Carbon dioxide is odorless. It could be natural causes.”
Dean and Bibi both made skeptical faces. “This volcano's been dormant at least as long as I've been around though,” said Bibi. “Which is an awfully long time.”
“Let's go see what they uncovered before we get gassed,” said Dean. They picked around the bodies of the archaeologists and came to an area of the floor that had been marked off with a border of yellow tape.
“Look at that crack!” said Sam, pointing to a deep fissure that ran though the chamber.
“Yeah, it's like they had an earthquake here or something.” Dean clicked on his flashlight and shown the light down the crack. “Hey, look there.”
Water had pooled into the fissure, but visible just under its surface was what looked like the face of a tablet, still stuck on surface of the rock.
“That explains why they didn't just grab it and run,” said Sam. “It looks like it’s stuck in there pretty good.”
“Archaeologists never do anything fast,” said Dean. “Bibi, can you mojo it out of there?”
“I think so, but I'll need to climb down closer to make certain I don't break the bugger.” All three of them looked around. There was no sound but the steady trickle of water.
“You okay climbing down?” asked Dean.
Bibi huffed, as if insulted. “I was bred in the Himalayas. I think I can manage an eight foot crack, thank you very much.” Bibi began to shinny down into the fissure, skillfully finding invisible hand holds as he descended. He paused just above the tablet. Bracing himself with his legs and one hand, he carefully set another hand on the stone. He closed his eyes. The tablet began to glow.
“He's not gonna break it is he?” whispered Sam.
“Then Kevin can occupy himself super gluing it back together,” Dean told him. “Wait, you smell that?”
There was a cracking sound from within the fissure and a cry of “Got it!” just as the first column of black smoke whooshed by overhead.
“Bibi, get your godly ass up here,” shouted Dean. “Crowley’s buddies are here.” Dean swung at the first demon as soon as it materialized, but then there were more.
“Head's up!” came Bibi's voice, and suddenly, the tablet shot out from the crack liked a bagel popping up from a toaster. Sam broke into a run to get underneath it, and caught it in an impressive dive.
“Ow,” said Sam. Catching a stone tablet, as it turned out, was not at all like catching a softball.
Dean was dispatching demons, but found himself double-teamed. Bibi hurled himself out of the fissure and speared one of them with his saber. It crumpled in a shower of sparks.
“Let's get outta here!” yelled Dean, and the three of them broke for the entrance, Sam and the tablet in the lead, demons hot on their tail.
“Daylight!” said Sam as he spotted the entrance.
“Wait!” shouted Bibi, grabbing the back of Sam's shirt.
“What?” Sam, still clutching the tablet to his chest and feeling more than a little foolish, skidded to a halt.
“There's something out there. Stay low.”
“Worse than demons?” asked Dean.
“Yeah.”
Sam and Dean exchanged a skeptical look, and then the three of them, crouching down and staying close to the wall.
They edged out of the cave entrance, at the wall of the large volcanic crater. Dean pointed upwards to the three figures standing up the rim of the crater. They all ducked behind a small outcropping of rocks just as the first demons emerged from the cave's mouth, roaring out in pillars of dark smoke.
The demons screamed as they were smitten by the angels, who had flown down from the rim. “You think if we stay out of the way, they'll just gank each other,” whispered Dean.
“You know it's never that easy,” sighed Sam.
There was a whistling noise. Dean felt a shiver up his spine. “I know that sound!” he said. “We gotta get outta here. Bibi, can you zap us?”
“Can we get up to the rim?” asked Bibi.
“You need to get up there to zap?” asked Dean.
“If I'm carrying along two six-foot wankers and a bloody great stone tablet, yes!”
Sam watched as what looked like two meteorites crash landed in the middle of the crater. “Uh, is that what I think it is?”
“Leviathan,” said Dean. “Let's make for the rim.” Bibi grabbed the tablet from Sam and they took off running as two blobs of tar suddenly congealed into angry Leviathan warriors.
Somewhere in back of them, an angel screamed.
“Here it is,” said Dean, locating the trail to the surface. He began to scramble up the wall of the crater, his brother and Bibi close behind.
“Whoever wins this throwdown is gonna be after us soon,” said Sam.
“Soon or now!” shouted Bibi, and Sam found the tablet tossed to him once again as Bibi turned around to strike at a pursuing demon. Sam barely managed to catch the heavy tablet one-handed.
“Will you guys quit playing keep away with the damn tablet?” shouted Dean, pulling his brother onto a ledge.
“Thanks,” said Sam, hefting the tablet. And then he shouted, “Wait! Behind you!”
Dean whirled around as quickly as he could on the narrow ledge, and came face to face with a hooded figure. “Shit!” he said. But he only got his axe up halfway before the figure raised two fingers. And then there was a rustle.
And everything changed.
“Why’s it so dark in here?” Kevin demanded.
“This is the Dark House,” Ruth answered, lighting up a lantern. “Look, it was either this or the razor house. And, you know, you’re already down to nine digits.”
Kevin scowled at his hand, and then peered down at the medical school applications spread on the table. “Seriously, Ruth. I appreciate this, but I’m gonna go blind. It’s like an expensive restaurant that doesn’t want you to see the prices on the menu.”
“You wanna take it outside?” she asked.
“Unless you’ve got these applications in Braille, yeah.”
Ruth stood in silence for a moment. “You promise you’re not gonna try and run away on me again? Your mom would murder me!”
Kevin rolled his eyes. “Why is everyone so scared of my mom! You’re a god or something now, right?”
“Yeah. But your mom is badass.” Kevin could make out a grin even through the dimness.
“Okay, look, I promise I won’t try to run. To be honest, I don’t feel antsy about the tablets since we’re down here. I feels … kinda relaxing.”
Ruth shrugged. “I don’t suppose you could make it over the river of scorpions anyway, so let’s give it a try.”
“Thanks,” Kevin muttered. He gathered up the applications and his computer, and, sticking very close to Ruth in the penetrating darkness, they made their way out of the building. Ruth somehow found the door, and it opened to an utterly gorgeous garden. The breeze carried vague smells of exotic fruits. There were tall tropical trees and lush ferns growing in abundance, and he thought he heard monkeys chattering somewhere. There were several overgrown pyramids visible here and there in the distance. Although, other than a brief trip to Niagara Falls, Kevin had never been outside of the United States, he thought this looked like a mysterious ancient Central American village.
Well, except for the large, “WELCOME MAYAN APOCALYPSE 2012” banners that seemed to be draped everywhere.
“Man, this is the place!” he sighed, sitting down on a bench. A peacock wandered by. “Am I weird that I like hell better than my home?”
Ruth laughed, sitting down next to him. “You like Xibalba?”
“Other than the fact that I can’t pronounce it. Like I said, I literally haven’t been able to put the fucking tablets out of my mind for over a year now. But here? It’s like somebody flicked a switch. I can concentrate again.”
“Hey, Hun Came!” hailed Ruth as they were approached by a fierce-faced individual. “Our host,” she whispered to Kevin.
“My greetings,” Hun Came told them, as Kevin tried to figure out whether the intricate patterning on the guy’s face was a tattoo or actually natural.
“Uh, hi,” said Kevin, who wasn’t certain exactly how to greet a Lord of Xibalba as, up until today, he hadn’t ever even heard of a Lord of Xibalba.
“Greetings,” Hun Came told them. “Would you care for an empanada?” he asked, as a servant held forth a tray. Kevin followed Ruth’s lead and took one, but squinted at the pastry before he bit into it. Written out in food coloring was “MAYAN APOCALYPSE 2012.” He stole a glance at Ruth, who was happily taking a bite.
“Oh, empanadas de leche!” she said approvingly. “Delicious. You should try, Kevin.”
Kevin took a careful bite. It was really good: it had a sweet, creamy filling.
“May I?” asked Ruth, who was reaching for another.
“We will leave a plate,” said Hun Came proudly. His servant put several of the pastries on a dish and set it between Ruth and Kevin. “We are going to observe some damned souls at the Rattling House. Would you care to come with?”
“It’s a little cold for me in there,” Ruth apologized. “Besides, we need to make some progress on Kevin’s applications.”
“It is our great honor to host the Prophet of the Lord.”
“Oh, uh, thanks,” said Kevin, who was not used to people being so welcoming without strings attached.
“You know, if the translation work is wearing on you, Prophet, you would be welcome to engage in your holy task within our realm.”
“Huh,” said Kevin. Come to think of it, that wouldn’t be so bad: sitting out in a nice sunny garden eating pastries, instead of locked up in a dark, probably smelly house with Garth and his mom.
“I think we’re good, Hun Came,” Ruth put in. “But thanks.” That got a glare from Kevin, although he kept his mouth shut.
The death god nodded. “All right, well, if there’s anything else we could offer?”
“Maybe some tea?” asked Ruth. Hun Came nodded to the servant, who hurried off. “Please let me know if you require anything else. Anything at all!” And then with a bow, Hun Came was off.
Kevin scowled at Ruth. “What’s up with the tea, Beer Belly?”
Ruth grinned. “I’m almost a married woman. Gotta behave myself. Besides, not a great idea to tie one on down here. I don’t completely trust that dude, if you get my drift.”
“Yeah, what’s the deal with the Mayan Apocalypse stuff?” asked Kevin, holding up an inscribed empanada. “I mean, it didn’t happen, right?”
Ruth looked around. “Shhhh! Do not let them catch you saying that.”
“Sore point?”
“Very sore point.”
Kevin smiled and chomped on another empanada. This one was savory, filled with meat, and would have actually gone well with a beer. Fortunately, the servant arrived just at that moment with a large pitcher of iced tea, which really was really sweet and delicious. Once the servant had hurried off, Kevin asked, “So, why did you veto it when he asked me to come down here to do translation?”
“Think, Kevin. What’s the one thing you need to do your work?”
“Well … the tablet I guess.”
“Uh-huh.”
They exchanged a glance. “So he wasn’t just being nice?”
“People are never just nice. Well, maybe Jesus. And Lord Ganesha. But really, you can’t trust people, and gods and angels and other supernatural whatnots even less.”
“Sam and Dean are nice,” Kevin blurted. Ruth was staring, so he continued, “Well, that angel dude is off his rocker.”
“I like Castiel.”
“You would. But they came in to protect me when they’re not getting anything out of it.”
Ruth wiped pastry from the corner of her mouth and crossed her arms. “I thought you told me they totally ditched you and you were ready to strangle them? And Sam’s a whiny-ass bitch and Dean is a budding sociopath?”
Kevin blanched. “Did I say that?”
Ruth arched an eyebrow.
Kevin heaved a sigh. “Well, like I said, it feels good to be down here. Like a weight off my shoulders, you know?”
Ruth nodded. “We’ll see what we can do. Meanwhile, you finish some personal essays, and maybe we’ll go see the howler monkeys. Sound good?”
“Howler monkeys? Monkeys are cool.”
“Monkeys are very cool.”
Kevin smiled and picked up his laptop.
Dean was standing in the middle of a field, along with Sam, the tablet, and the hooded man.
“Where's Bibi?” he asked, whirling around. “What did you do with Vibhishana?”
“Is that demon … with you?”
“He's our friend. Yeah.”
The hooded man snapped his fingers, and Bibi appeared. “Fucking bloody hell.” He rounded on the hooded figure. “An angel?” he asked, his voice suddenly shooting up a full octave.
The man pulled down his hood. “Yes, I'm an angel.”
“Inias!” said Dean.
“Friend of yours?” asked Bibi.
Dean nodded. “Well, more of an acquaintance. Vibhishana, this is Inias.”
“Dude,” Sam told Inias. “We all assumed you were dead.”
“I've been looking for you,” said Inias. “I uncovered the tablet a few days ago, hoping you'd come after it. I didn't expect-” His breath caught, and he looked downwards. “Those poor archaeologists. I didn't think they'd … kill them all.” He slumped, and Dean grabbed his arm.
“Hey, Inias. Can you take us to somewhere we could all sit down and talk? And, uh, maybe get a beer?”
And so that is how the Winchesters, the demon Vibhishana and the angel, Inias, ended up sitting in a booth in the back of Toby's Tavern in Trout Creek, Montana.
“They got Patsy Cline on the jukebox here,” Dean laughed as he sat down with the others. “Walking After Midnight” echoed through the nearly empty bar. Bibi stared in wonder at the animated Hamm's beer sign hanging above their table.
“Hey, that's some nice doorstop,” said the barmaid, nodding at the tablet set out on the table as she snapped her gum. “You guys here on a hunting trip...?”
“Uh. Interested in the local archaeology,” said Sam, draping a hand over the tablet.
“Might I try the Moose Drool, love?” asked Bibi.
“You ain't from around here, are ya?” she asked him.
“No, actually, I hail from India.”
“Oh!” Her eyes grew big. “So, you work in one of those techie help lines? I've been having trouble with the laptop....”
“Actually, no,” smiled Bibi. “Sorry, love. Sadly, I work in the family business.”
“You have the computer here?” asked Sam. “I could take a look at it.” He nodded to Dean, and then followed the girl over to the bar, where she brought out an old IBM laptop.
Dean looked around. The only other person in the place besides them and the barmaid was a rather well past drunken man sitting on a barstool who would occasionally blurt out, “George Jones! He was one singing son of a gun!” And then he would stumble over to feed more coins into the jukebox.
Dean leaned across the table. “Inias. What's going on? Talk to us.”
“After the time I met you and Castiel, I returned to heaven, where I learned our brothers had been slain by Leviathan. Many angels were slaughtered that year. We went to seek out Castiel again, but could no longer find him.”
“That’s because he was in Purgatory. With me,” said Dean.
“I know that now.”
“May I ask why you decided to seek out Cas?” asked Bibi, who was toying with the salt and pepper shakers. He had somehow turned down the darkness that often enfolded him, and looked almost like a human guy.
Inias looked uncomfortable. Dean had noticed that he had squirmed into the side of the booth away from Bibi. “Are you … a friend to Castiel?”
Bibi smiled warmly. “Yeah. I have that honor.” He narrowed his eyes. “What about you?”
Dean felt a twinge of jealousy. Cas gets other friends, he told himself. And then he thought of Cas looking pale and drawn on the big bed up in Valhalla.
Inias was speaking again. “I think so. Yes, I hope so. Quite frankly, we didn't know what to do. We were being slaughtered. And Castiel.... I know he made mistakes. But he's different. He could see … a way out. Can you tell me where he is?” he asked Dean.
Dean folded his hands. He looked up as the barmaid hurried over and distributed their beers. She scurried back to the bar to lean over Sam's shoulder where he was frowning at the laptop. Dean noticed with some amusement that she was leaning in a little too close.
Dean decided to hedge. “I can't disclose where Cas is at right now. I think maybe you can understand that? But I can tell you I can get a message to him.”
Inias looked pained. “We thought the worst was over when the Leviathan leader died. But the horror had just begun. In heaven. There was.... There have been purges. By the upper management. Those who were suspected of following Castiel, anyone who was suspected of thinking for themselves? 'Abusing' their free will? They've been taken. Tortured. Some did not return. Those who did … were not the same.”
“Upper management?” asked Dean. “Who the hell is Heaven’s upper management these days? They got some brand new douche nozzles?”
“That's the worst thing, Dean. No one knows.”
Dean and Bibi exchanged a look. “I'm sorry,” said Bibi. “No one knows? What about your one God then?”
Inias sadly shook his head. “No. No one has seen our Father. For a long time. As far as upper management.... Michael, Raphael, they're gone. Some new people have been … promoted. But they don't appear to be the ones really in charge. I don't know who they answer to. No one can say. No one will say.”
“And you?”
“I, and some of my brothers and sisters, fled, for lack of a better word. We have been in hiding here on earth. We know everyone is very interested in the tablets. That's why we decided to risk exposing this one.”
“I take it this isn't the angel tablet?” said Dean.
“You know about that?” Inias thumped the tablet with his index finger. “Yes, this one speaks of protection against restless spirits.”
All three looked up the bar, where the familiar Windows tone sounded. The barmaid jumped up and down and gave a surprised Sam a kiss on the cheek.
Dean felt his phone vibrate and picked it up as Sam sauntered back over. “The beers are on the house, by the way,” he grinned as he slid into the booth, looking very smug.
Bibi grinned. “I'm a Mac person, me.”
Sam laughed.
Dean scanned his new text message and flipped his phone shut. “We gotta go. Get back.”
Sam saw the look on his brother's face and stood as well. “OK,” he said.
Dean stared at the angel. “Inias. How can we get in touch with you? Some of the stuff you told me, we need to discuss it with Cas.”
Inias actually smiled. “I'm an angel. Just pray to me, Dean. And I'll hear.”
Dean nodded, and then turned and hurried out of the bar, Sam and Bibi following him.
“What's up?” asked Sam as the screen door slapped closed behind him.
“Call from Valhalla. Cas. Bibi?”
“Just as well, it’s time I go pick up Ruthie and Kevin in Xibalba,” said Bibi.
And then they were no longer in Montana.
Back inside the tavern Inias walked over to the bar. He put two fingers on the barmaid’s forehead, and she crumpled to the ground.
“George Jones! One singing son of a gun!” muttered the drunk.
“You can stop that now,” said Inias, giving the drunk the hairy eyeball.
The drunk suddenly straightened up, his eyes sharpening. “Why didn’t you let me possess the girl? That would have been more fun.”
“For one thing, you would have ended up in Dean Winchester’s lap,” sighed Inias, who was hunkered down checking the girl’s pulse to make certain she was unharmed.
“What’s wrong with that?” the drunk giggled.
Inias stood. “And for another, that one already has significant alcohol-induced brain damage. You’re not hurting him.”
“Tree-hugger,” grumbled the drunk. Suddenly, his body language was completely different. “So is Cas all right?”
“You are still sweet on him, aren’t you?”
The old drunk wriggled in an oddly seductive manner. “Says his number one fan. Maybe he’ll send you an autographed picture for your trouble.”
“And the answer is, I don’t know. He’s out of Purgatory.”
The drunk wrinkled his nose. “And probably still making googly eyes at Dean Winchester. Not that I blame him. He is one fine looking boy. He makes my panties warm. Even in this vessel.”
Inias shook his head in frustration. “Too much information, Meg.”
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikific
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam, Garth, Kevin, Linda Tran, Benny, Crowley, Meg, Inias, Naomi, Metatron, Odin, Kali
Warnings: Cursing. Sexual situations. Spoilers up to 8.08, and then we veer off into an AU and never look back. There are OCs here: some I’ve invented, some I’ve ripped off from various religious mythologies, and some I’ve rebooted from the SPN canon. Also, no beta. If that’s going to raise your blood pressure, then do yourself a favor and read something else.
Word Count: 90,000 (individual chapters are around 5,000)
Summary: Sam, Dean and Cas, along with an alliance of pagan lords of the underworld, battle with Crowley over the Word of God. But the boys soon discover there is another, more malignant threat looming in the shadows.
Notes: This is an AU storyline, which fundamentally diverges from what they’re currently doing on the show. And thank Zeus for that.
“So you say you're retired?” asked Sam. They had migrated to a comfortable sitting room, where they were all sipping a rich, amber whiskey, and Odin, Dean and Metatron were enjoying Cuban cigars.
“Yeah, I walked out,” said Metatron. She had changed from her riding outfit to a sweater and blue jeans. Since she had actually excused herself to do so, Dean figured she didn’t use angel mojo. He was still thinking he'd seen her in an old movie.
“What happened?” Sam urged.
Metatron puffed thoughtfully on her cigar. “For all the millennia, I was a faithful soldier in service of the Lord. I fought valiantly in His name. And then one day, Michael called me in and told me they had a new job for me: the old man's secretary, basically. From warrior of God to taking dictation! My sweet aunt.” She tapped out some ashes, her eyes blazing with the memory.
“Michael can be kind of a douche,” said Dean.
“You said it, buddy,” said Metatron.
“And I take it you didn't like the new job?” asked Sam, pulling a face and irritably batting away the smoke from his brother's cigar.
Metatron sat back in her chair. “Well, if you don't know Him, the old man can be moody as hell, and He just got worse after Lucifer left. You know, I told Him He was spoiling the feathers off that little brat. But He tends to get sentimental. And anyway, the writing down all his pontification wasn't the worst part, as it turns out.”
Sam looked at Dean, who was evidently too busy wallowing in his cigar to return the gesture. “What was the worst part?”
Metatron pointed two fingers to her own head. “As soon as I got done with one of these things, he'd blank out my memory, so I couldn't recall what I'd just written. 'Very secret Metatron, can't let the Word get out prematurely.' That was over my limit. I mean, yeah, maybe you're the Lord God of all creation, but don't be a dick!” She pounded a fist on the armrest, her eyes blazing. “So when we were all done, I grabbed myself a tablet and took off. Sent myself off on a little tour of the cosmos.
“But after a while I started getting homesick. I thought about where I might be welcome here on earth, and decided Valhalla would be a good place for an ex-soldier like me. Especially given what I was carrying.”
Odin flicked his cigar ashes into an ashtray. “In case you boys haven't guessed, she was carrying the tablet that carries the Word of God regarding the pagan gods.”
“That one was all very hush-hush. He didn’t want anybody to know He even acknowledged them,” Metatron told them.
“Who else besides us knows about this, Odin?” asked Dean.
“Besides you boys, very few. Hel of course: she knows all our secrets. I've told Hades. He can be a prick, but he’s a strong ally. And Kali and some of her folks, so Yamaraja knows. I gave them back her son, Ganesha, the Lord of Hosts. That's how Bibi knew to come looking for me when he had the … issue with Ruth.”
“If Metatron can read the tablets…” Sam began.
“Crowley wouldn’t stop ‘til he’d found you,” Dean concluded.
“Crowley? That little tin pot dictator?” snorted Metatron. “Hmpf.”
Odin sat forward, looking concerned. “We’ve got bigger worries, boys. Much bigger. And that’s why you need to swear to secrecy about all this.”
“Bigger worries than Crowley?” asked Sam. He gave Dean a, “What did we just sign ourselves up for?” look. But then he jumped as he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He listened for a moment and then held up a hand. “Excuse me,” he muttered, rising and wandering to the doorway as he said, “Yes, Mrs. Tran, I understand.”
“Talk about big worries,” said Dean. “Kevin's mom.”
“Kevin is your prophet?” asked Odin. Dean nodded. “Is he … in a secure location?”
Dean sighed. “As secure as we can get him. Garth has changed their safe house location several times. But I always feel like we're half a step behind Crowley and his goons.”
“I'd offer to take him up here,” said Odin, “but that's a worrying amount of eggs to have gathered in one basket. Especially after what happened the other day.”
“Oh!” said Metatron. “I wish I could volunteer to watch over him. I haven't pulled prophet duty in a dog's age.”
“You need to remain undercover for now, young lady,” scolded Odin.
Metatron waved her cigar at him. “Hey! I could play it low key.”
“An archangel on the loose is bound to draw attention.”
“Gabriel was good at hiding out,” said Dean.
“Gabriel! He was always such a cut-up,” said Metatron, giving a fond smile. “I miss that little runt.”
“We gotta get back,” said Sam, stepping back into the room and flipping his phone closed.
“What's up?” asked Dean. “Is Kevin okay?”
“No. But it’s not what you think,” he added, as Dean nervously stood up. “Another Tablet of the Lord has just popped up on the radar. And the Prophet Kevin is evidently climbing the walls.”
“We gotta get down there,” Dean agreed, immediately standing up. He looked at his half-finished cigar with regret.
“There's more smokes up here for you boys, Dean,” laughed Odin. “I’m sorry I can’t spare any personnel right now to look after young Kevin. But you go retrieve your testy prophet. I'll try and figure out something to help.”
“So, how do you know for sure there's another tablet?” asked Sam amiably. It was sort of a weird conversation, as one of the participants was currently tied down to a chair with electrical tape.
“My boy knows these things! He's a prophet of the Lord! And Advanced Placement,” Mrs. Tran maintained. She was not the bound person in question, although Dean had definitely considered it.
“How do I know there's half a fucking demon tablet out there?” spat Kevin. “I can’t block this stuff out!”
“Language,” chided Mrs. Tran.
“I can't fucking sleep at night over the stupid piece of rock your batshit pet angel broke in two! Believe me, I know when a new tablet is out there. And if you don't let me get it, so help me I'm gonna bust free and fucking kill myself.”
“We tried everything to calm that boy down,” said Garth, who looked like he hadn't slept in a good long while. “It's like an itch he can't scratch.”
“It's worse!” howled Kevin.
“You try getting him drunk?” asked Dean, to a death glare from Mrs. Tran.
“My boy doesn't imbibe,” she said primly.
“You know, I usually don't agree with my brother's hare brained schemes, but it might be worth it in this case.” As Sam watched, Kevin writhed in the chair, making it hop around the room. “Look,” said Sam, sliding a foot on to one of the chair legs to impede Kevin’s progress, “can you at least tell us where it's located?”
Kevin breathed in and out. “Idaho. Eastern Idaho. An archeological site. Along the Snake River.”
“We'll go take a look,” said Dean.
“What about me?” Kevin wailed.
“How's my favorite prophet?” asked Ruth who, along with Bibi, had just appeared inside the living room of Garth's safe house. “Odin sent us. We've decided Kevin is gonna spend the afternoon working on his med school applications.”
Kevin howled. “How can I apply to med school? Look at me. Look at me!”
“You could probably do surgery with your teeth,” said Ruth, tilting her head at him. “Anyway, you said if I completed mine, you'd do yours.”
“Wait, you're still intending on going to medical school, Ruth?” asked Sam.
“Bibi's family would never forgive me if I didn’t!” said Ruth, and Bibi put an affectionate hand on her shoulder.
“That's our Ruthie. Yeah, I promised my father I would marry a professional,” Bibi explained. “And I'll transport us all over to the site of the new tablet, if that's square with you blokes? I’m not an angel, but I reckon I do alright in a pinch.”
Dean looked dubious, as always, about a potential zap. “We should get there quickly,” Sam reasoned. He too looked dubious, though for different reasons.
"I am Isaiah, Guardian of the Tablet of Nebuchadnezzar, three hundred twenty-third of the blood. State your business." The teen looked back and forth between the two men in ill-fitting suits standing near the altar. They had been hanging around the church for the last day or so. Ever since those arrogant Winchester pricks had departed. They had probably run off tattling everything to Ruth. Well, let them. She wasn’t Guardian any more, he was.
“We are trying to locate an escaped an-“ the one guy began, but the second guy caught his arm.
“Locating a fugitive. We’re, uh, FBI,” explained the second guy.
Isaiah nodded. That explained the cheap suits and grim attitude. “Who are you looking for? You mean the Winchesters?” Isaiah hoped it was them. They would look good behind prison bars.
“A man who was with them,” said the second agent. “He was about my height. Dressed in an overcoat?”
“Oh, their demon buddy?” sniffed Isaiah.
“Demon?”
“Well, whatever he was,” Isaiah told them. “I guess he couldn’t be a demon, since he got past my warding magic.”
The agents exchanged a glance. “He’s an angel,” said the first, though his buddy tried to shush him.
Isaiah nodded knowingly. “He may have been an angel. Some scrawny little guy.”
“He is wanted. For crimes!” the first guy told him.
“Yeah, well, they all took off. I don’t know what happened to them after he fainted.”
“He … fainted?”
“Didn’t you see? Must have hit his head, because he bled all over the front steps.” Isaiah frowned. “Uh, not that I cared. Good riddance.”
“Did you happen to see what happened? After he, uh, fainted?” asked the second guy.
“Yeah, it was weird. They must have been going to a con.”
The men in suits exchanged another confused glance. “Come again?”
“You know, a convention?” He got baffled looks. These FBI guys, they really needed to get out more often! “Some kind of gaming con, or what have you. Anyway, these two cosplay chicks-“
“Cosplay?”
“Two chicks dressed up like Vikings came and met them. You know? Those fake geek girls who ruin cons.”
There was another silence. “Uh, Vikings did you say?”
“They were supposed to look like Vikings. Viking warrior girls. As if! Stupid, huh?”
“Valkyries?” asked the first guy.
It was Isaiah’s turn to cast a skeptical glance. “What are Valkyries?”
“Basically, Viking warrior girls.”
“Oh, yeah. I guess so.”
The agents looked at each other again. “I think that’s all we need. Uh. The FBI thanks you for your cooperation.”
And then there was a soft sound, like wings beating. And the agents were no longer there.
Isaiah looked around in puzzlement. “Strange dudes, FBI agents,” he muttered.
Dean was glaring around. “If this is an archaeological dig, where's Sam Neill? Aren't there supposed to be a bunch of nerd dudes hanging around with little toothbrushes?”
They were standing at the bottom of an ancient volcanic crater, squinting into a cave that had been carved out of one of the sheer walls. Bibi had managed to zap them to the lip of the crater, but they had had to find a way to descend to the bottom, in the dark. Fortunately, because of the archaeological work, the trail going down was well-marked, but it was a little difficult to manage in the low light.
Sam peered into the darkened cavern. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“We'll have to take care, you understand,” said Bibi. “I ain't an angel. Literally. If we get too deep, my transport powers don't work too well through solid rock.”
Bibi had pulled his saber out. Dean saw it flashing in the moonlight.
“Mine's cooler,” grinned Dean, holding up his axe.
“I saw your demon-cutter, Dean. Where did you nick such a flash blade?”
“Purgatory.”
“Ah!” Bibi held up his sword. “This little number was forged in the Lake of Fire.”
“Yeah, and we'll see it again on the Fourth of July,” snarked Sam, rolling his eyes. “Look, could we maybe quit comparing weaponry size and focus here?” To put it mildly, he was not cheerful about how Dean had been cozying up with all these pagan gods recently. Seriously, they were pagan gods. What was his brother thinking?
Dean and Bibi exchanged weaponry-related grins, and then the small party moved carefully into the cavern. They had brought along flashlights, but didn’t need to use them at this point, as the way was lit by halogen lights up on the wall. Water trickled in a thin stream down the floor.
“Wait, what's that up ahead?” asked Dean. They moved quickly to where the tunnel opened up into a large chamber.
Sam was the first to reach the still figures lying on the ground. There were about half a dozen of them. He checked for a pulse at one guy’s neck, and then shook his head.
“I think they're all gone, mate,” said Bibi.
“I don't see any marks on any of them,” said Dean. He sniffed the air. “And I don't smell sulfur.”
“This is a volcanic crater, right?” said Sam. “Sometimes they burp out poison gas clouds. Carbon dioxide is odorless. It could be natural causes.”
Dean and Bibi both made skeptical faces. “This volcano's been dormant at least as long as I've been around though,” said Bibi. “Which is an awfully long time.”
“Let's go see what they uncovered before we get gassed,” said Dean. They picked around the bodies of the archaeologists and came to an area of the floor that had been marked off with a border of yellow tape.
“Look at that crack!” said Sam, pointing to a deep fissure that ran though the chamber.
“Yeah, it's like they had an earthquake here or something.” Dean clicked on his flashlight and shown the light down the crack. “Hey, look there.”
Water had pooled into the fissure, but visible just under its surface was what looked like the face of a tablet, still stuck on surface of the rock.
“That explains why they didn't just grab it and run,” said Sam. “It looks like it’s stuck in there pretty good.”
“Archaeologists never do anything fast,” said Dean. “Bibi, can you mojo it out of there?”
“I think so, but I'll need to climb down closer to make certain I don't break the bugger.” All three of them looked around. There was no sound but the steady trickle of water.
“You okay climbing down?” asked Dean.
Bibi huffed, as if insulted. “I was bred in the Himalayas. I think I can manage an eight foot crack, thank you very much.” Bibi began to shinny down into the fissure, skillfully finding invisible hand holds as he descended. He paused just above the tablet. Bracing himself with his legs and one hand, he carefully set another hand on the stone. He closed his eyes. The tablet began to glow.
“He's not gonna break it is he?” whispered Sam.
“Then Kevin can occupy himself super gluing it back together,” Dean told him. “Wait, you smell that?”
There was a cracking sound from within the fissure and a cry of “Got it!” just as the first column of black smoke whooshed by overhead.
“Bibi, get your godly ass up here,” shouted Dean. “Crowley’s buddies are here.” Dean swung at the first demon as soon as it materialized, but then there were more.
“Head's up!” came Bibi's voice, and suddenly, the tablet shot out from the crack liked a bagel popping up from a toaster. Sam broke into a run to get underneath it, and caught it in an impressive dive.
“Ow,” said Sam. Catching a stone tablet, as it turned out, was not at all like catching a softball.
Dean was dispatching demons, but found himself double-teamed. Bibi hurled himself out of the fissure and speared one of them with his saber. It crumpled in a shower of sparks.
“Let's get outta here!” yelled Dean, and the three of them broke for the entrance, Sam and the tablet in the lead, demons hot on their tail.
“Daylight!” said Sam as he spotted the entrance.
“Wait!” shouted Bibi, grabbing the back of Sam's shirt.
“What?” Sam, still clutching the tablet to his chest and feeling more than a little foolish, skidded to a halt.
“There's something out there. Stay low.”
“Worse than demons?” asked Dean.
“Yeah.”
Sam and Dean exchanged a skeptical look, and then the three of them, crouching down and staying close to the wall.
They edged out of the cave entrance, at the wall of the large volcanic crater. Dean pointed upwards to the three figures standing up the rim of the crater. They all ducked behind a small outcropping of rocks just as the first demons emerged from the cave's mouth, roaring out in pillars of dark smoke.
The demons screamed as they were smitten by the angels, who had flown down from the rim. “You think if we stay out of the way, they'll just gank each other,” whispered Dean.
“You know it's never that easy,” sighed Sam.
There was a whistling noise. Dean felt a shiver up his spine. “I know that sound!” he said. “We gotta get outta here. Bibi, can you zap us?”
“Can we get up to the rim?” asked Bibi.
“You need to get up there to zap?” asked Dean.
“If I'm carrying along two six-foot wankers and a bloody great stone tablet, yes!”
Sam watched as what looked like two meteorites crash landed in the middle of the crater. “Uh, is that what I think it is?”
“Leviathan,” said Dean. “Let's make for the rim.” Bibi grabbed the tablet from Sam and they took off running as two blobs of tar suddenly congealed into angry Leviathan warriors.
Somewhere in back of them, an angel screamed.
“Here it is,” said Dean, locating the trail to the surface. He began to scramble up the wall of the crater, his brother and Bibi close behind.
“Whoever wins this throwdown is gonna be after us soon,” said Sam.
“Soon or now!” shouted Bibi, and Sam found the tablet tossed to him once again as Bibi turned around to strike at a pursuing demon. Sam barely managed to catch the heavy tablet one-handed.
“Will you guys quit playing keep away with the damn tablet?” shouted Dean, pulling his brother onto a ledge.
“Thanks,” said Sam, hefting the tablet. And then he shouted, “Wait! Behind you!”
Dean whirled around as quickly as he could on the narrow ledge, and came face to face with a hooded figure. “Shit!” he said. But he only got his axe up halfway before the figure raised two fingers. And then there was a rustle.
And everything changed.
“Why’s it so dark in here?” Kevin demanded.
“This is the Dark House,” Ruth answered, lighting up a lantern. “Look, it was either this or the razor house. And, you know, you’re already down to nine digits.”
Kevin scowled at his hand, and then peered down at the medical school applications spread on the table. “Seriously, Ruth. I appreciate this, but I’m gonna go blind. It’s like an expensive restaurant that doesn’t want you to see the prices on the menu.”
“You wanna take it outside?” she asked.
“Unless you’ve got these applications in Braille, yeah.”
Ruth stood in silence for a moment. “You promise you’re not gonna try and run away on me again? Your mom would murder me!”
Kevin rolled his eyes. “Why is everyone so scared of my mom! You’re a god or something now, right?”
“Yeah. But your mom is badass.” Kevin could make out a grin even through the dimness.
“Okay, look, I promise I won’t try to run. To be honest, I don’t feel antsy about the tablets since we’re down here. I feels … kinda relaxing.”
Ruth shrugged. “I don’t suppose you could make it over the river of scorpions anyway, so let’s give it a try.”
“Thanks,” Kevin muttered. He gathered up the applications and his computer, and, sticking very close to Ruth in the penetrating darkness, they made their way out of the building. Ruth somehow found the door, and it opened to an utterly gorgeous garden. The breeze carried vague smells of exotic fruits. There were tall tropical trees and lush ferns growing in abundance, and he thought he heard monkeys chattering somewhere. There were several overgrown pyramids visible here and there in the distance. Although, other than a brief trip to Niagara Falls, Kevin had never been outside of the United States, he thought this looked like a mysterious ancient Central American village.
Well, except for the large, “WELCOME MAYAN APOCALYPSE 2012” banners that seemed to be draped everywhere.
“Man, this is the place!” he sighed, sitting down on a bench. A peacock wandered by. “Am I weird that I like hell better than my home?”
Ruth laughed, sitting down next to him. “You like Xibalba?”
“Other than the fact that I can’t pronounce it. Like I said, I literally haven’t been able to put the fucking tablets out of my mind for over a year now. But here? It’s like somebody flicked a switch. I can concentrate again.”
“Hey, Hun Came!” hailed Ruth as they were approached by a fierce-faced individual. “Our host,” she whispered to Kevin.
“My greetings,” Hun Came told them, as Kevin tried to figure out whether the intricate patterning on the guy’s face was a tattoo or actually natural.
“Uh, hi,” said Kevin, who wasn’t certain exactly how to greet a Lord of Xibalba as, up until today, he hadn’t ever even heard of a Lord of Xibalba.
“Greetings,” Hun Came told them. “Would you care for an empanada?” he asked, as a servant held forth a tray. Kevin followed Ruth’s lead and took one, but squinted at the pastry before he bit into it. Written out in food coloring was “MAYAN APOCALYPSE 2012.” He stole a glance at Ruth, who was happily taking a bite.
“Oh, empanadas de leche!” she said approvingly. “Delicious. You should try, Kevin.”
Kevin took a careful bite. It was really good: it had a sweet, creamy filling.
“May I?” asked Ruth, who was reaching for another.
“We will leave a plate,” said Hun Came proudly. His servant put several of the pastries on a dish and set it between Ruth and Kevin. “We are going to observe some damned souls at the Rattling House. Would you care to come with?”
“It’s a little cold for me in there,” Ruth apologized. “Besides, we need to make some progress on Kevin’s applications.”
“It is our great honor to host the Prophet of the Lord.”
“Oh, uh, thanks,” said Kevin, who was not used to people being so welcoming without strings attached.
“You know, if the translation work is wearing on you, Prophet, you would be welcome to engage in your holy task within our realm.”
“Huh,” said Kevin. Come to think of it, that wouldn’t be so bad: sitting out in a nice sunny garden eating pastries, instead of locked up in a dark, probably smelly house with Garth and his mom.
“I think we’re good, Hun Came,” Ruth put in. “But thanks.” That got a glare from Kevin, although he kept his mouth shut.
The death god nodded. “All right, well, if there’s anything else we could offer?”
“Maybe some tea?” asked Ruth. Hun Came nodded to the servant, who hurried off. “Please let me know if you require anything else. Anything at all!” And then with a bow, Hun Came was off.
Kevin scowled at Ruth. “What’s up with the tea, Beer Belly?”
Ruth grinned. “I’m almost a married woman. Gotta behave myself. Besides, not a great idea to tie one on down here. I don’t completely trust that dude, if you get my drift.”
“Yeah, what’s the deal with the Mayan Apocalypse stuff?” asked Kevin, holding up an inscribed empanada. “I mean, it didn’t happen, right?”
Ruth looked around. “Shhhh! Do not let them catch you saying that.”
“Sore point?”
“Very sore point.”
Kevin smiled and chomped on another empanada. This one was savory, filled with meat, and would have actually gone well with a beer. Fortunately, the servant arrived just at that moment with a large pitcher of iced tea, which really was really sweet and delicious. Once the servant had hurried off, Kevin asked, “So, why did you veto it when he asked me to come down here to do translation?”
“Think, Kevin. What’s the one thing you need to do your work?”
“Well … the tablet I guess.”
“Uh-huh.”
They exchanged a glance. “So he wasn’t just being nice?”
“People are never just nice. Well, maybe Jesus. And Lord Ganesha. But really, you can’t trust people, and gods and angels and other supernatural whatnots even less.”
“Sam and Dean are nice,” Kevin blurted. Ruth was staring, so he continued, “Well, that angel dude is off his rocker.”
“I like Castiel.”
“You would. But they came in to protect me when they’re not getting anything out of it.”
Ruth wiped pastry from the corner of her mouth and crossed her arms. “I thought you told me they totally ditched you and you were ready to strangle them? And Sam’s a whiny-ass bitch and Dean is a budding sociopath?”
Kevin blanched. “Did I say that?”
Ruth arched an eyebrow.
Kevin heaved a sigh. “Well, like I said, it feels good to be down here. Like a weight off my shoulders, you know?”
Ruth nodded. “We’ll see what we can do. Meanwhile, you finish some personal essays, and maybe we’ll go see the howler monkeys. Sound good?”
“Howler monkeys? Monkeys are cool.”
“Monkeys are very cool.”
Kevin smiled and picked up his laptop.
Dean was standing in the middle of a field, along with Sam, the tablet, and the hooded man.
“Where's Bibi?” he asked, whirling around. “What did you do with Vibhishana?”
“Is that demon … with you?”
“He's our friend. Yeah.”
The hooded man snapped his fingers, and Bibi appeared. “Fucking bloody hell.” He rounded on the hooded figure. “An angel?” he asked, his voice suddenly shooting up a full octave.
The man pulled down his hood. “Yes, I'm an angel.”
“Inias!” said Dean.
“Friend of yours?” asked Bibi.
Dean nodded. “Well, more of an acquaintance. Vibhishana, this is Inias.”
“Dude,” Sam told Inias. “We all assumed you were dead.”
“I've been looking for you,” said Inias. “I uncovered the tablet a few days ago, hoping you'd come after it. I didn't expect-” His breath caught, and he looked downwards. “Those poor archaeologists. I didn't think they'd … kill them all.” He slumped, and Dean grabbed his arm.
“Hey, Inias. Can you take us to somewhere we could all sit down and talk? And, uh, maybe get a beer?”
And so that is how the Winchesters, the demon Vibhishana and the angel, Inias, ended up sitting in a booth in the back of Toby's Tavern in Trout Creek, Montana.
“They got Patsy Cline on the jukebox here,” Dean laughed as he sat down with the others. “Walking After Midnight” echoed through the nearly empty bar. Bibi stared in wonder at the animated Hamm's beer sign hanging above their table.
“Hey, that's some nice doorstop,” said the barmaid, nodding at the tablet set out on the table as she snapped her gum. “You guys here on a hunting trip...?”
“Uh. Interested in the local archaeology,” said Sam, draping a hand over the tablet.
“Might I try the Moose Drool, love?” asked Bibi.
“You ain't from around here, are ya?” she asked him.
“No, actually, I hail from India.”
“Oh!” Her eyes grew big. “So, you work in one of those techie help lines? I've been having trouble with the laptop....”
“Actually, no,” smiled Bibi. “Sorry, love. Sadly, I work in the family business.”
“You have the computer here?” asked Sam. “I could take a look at it.” He nodded to Dean, and then followed the girl over to the bar, where she brought out an old IBM laptop.
Dean looked around. The only other person in the place besides them and the barmaid was a rather well past drunken man sitting on a barstool who would occasionally blurt out, “George Jones! He was one singing son of a gun!” And then he would stumble over to feed more coins into the jukebox.
Dean leaned across the table. “Inias. What's going on? Talk to us.”
“After the time I met you and Castiel, I returned to heaven, where I learned our brothers had been slain by Leviathan. Many angels were slaughtered that year. We went to seek out Castiel again, but could no longer find him.”
“That’s because he was in Purgatory. With me,” said Dean.
“I know that now.”
“May I ask why you decided to seek out Cas?” asked Bibi, who was toying with the salt and pepper shakers. He had somehow turned down the darkness that often enfolded him, and looked almost like a human guy.
Inias looked uncomfortable. Dean had noticed that he had squirmed into the side of the booth away from Bibi. “Are you … a friend to Castiel?”
Bibi smiled warmly. “Yeah. I have that honor.” He narrowed his eyes. “What about you?”
Dean felt a twinge of jealousy. Cas gets other friends, he told himself. And then he thought of Cas looking pale and drawn on the big bed up in Valhalla.
Inias was speaking again. “I think so. Yes, I hope so. Quite frankly, we didn't know what to do. We were being slaughtered. And Castiel.... I know he made mistakes. But he's different. He could see … a way out. Can you tell me where he is?” he asked Dean.
Dean folded his hands. He looked up as the barmaid hurried over and distributed their beers. She scurried back to the bar to lean over Sam's shoulder where he was frowning at the laptop. Dean noticed with some amusement that she was leaning in a little too close.
Dean decided to hedge. “I can't disclose where Cas is at right now. I think maybe you can understand that? But I can tell you I can get a message to him.”
Inias looked pained. “We thought the worst was over when the Leviathan leader died. But the horror had just begun. In heaven. There was.... There have been purges. By the upper management. Those who were suspected of following Castiel, anyone who was suspected of thinking for themselves? 'Abusing' their free will? They've been taken. Tortured. Some did not return. Those who did … were not the same.”
“Upper management?” asked Dean. “Who the hell is Heaven’s upper management these days? They got some brand new douche nozzles?”
“That's the worst thing, Dean. No one knows.”
Dean and Bibi exchanged a look. “I'm sorry,” said Bibi. “No one knows? What about your one God then?”
Inias sadly shook his head. “No. No one has seen our Father. For a long time. As far as upper management.... Michael, Raphael, they're gone. Some new people have been … promoted. But they don't appear to be the ones really in charge. I don't know who they answer to. No one can say. No one will say.”
“And you?”
“I, and some of my brothers and sisters, fled, for lack of a better word. We have been in hiding here on earth. We know everyone is very interested in the tablets. That's why we decided to risk exposing this one.”
“I take it this isn't the angel tablet?” said Dean.
“You know about that?” Inias thumped the tablet with his index finger. “Yes, this one speaks of protection against restless spirits.”
All three looked up the bar, where the familiar Windows tone sounded. The barmaid jumped up and down and gave a surprised Sam a kiss on the cheek.
Dean felt his phone vibrate and picked it up as Sam sauntered back over. “The beers are on the house, by the way,” he grinned as he slid into the booth, looking very smug.
Bibi grinned. “I'm a Mac person, me.”
Sam laughed.
Dean scanned his new text message and flipped his phone shut. “We gotta go. Get back.”
Sam saw the look on his brother's face and stood as well. “OK,” he said.
Dean stared at the angel. “Inias. How can we get in touch with you? Some of the stuff you told me, we need to discuss it with Cas.”
Inias actually smiled. “I'm an angel. Just pray to me, Dean. And I'll hear.”
Dean nodded, and then turned and hurried out of the bar, Sam and Bibi following him.
“What's up?” asked Sam as the screen door slapped closed behind him.
“Call from Valhalla. Cas. Bibi?”
“Just as well, it’s time I go pick up Ruthie and Kevin in Xibalba,” said Bibi.
And then they were no longer in Montana.
Back inside the tavern Inias walked over to the bar. He put two fingers on the barmaid’s forehead, and she crumpled to the ground.
“George Jones! One singing son of a gun!” muttered the drunk.
“You can stop that now,” said Inias, giving the drunk the hairy eyeball.
The drunk suddenly straightened up, his eyes sharpening. “Why didn’t you let me possess the girl? That would have been more fun.”
“For one thing, you would have ended up in Dean Winchester’s lap,” sighed Inias, who was hunkered down checking the girl’s pulse to make certain she was unharmed.
“What’s wrong with that?” the drunk giggled.
Inias stood. “And for another, that one already has significant alcohol-induced brain damage. You’re not hurting him.”
“Tree-hugger,” grumbled the drunk. Suddenly, his body language was completely different. “So is Cas all right?”
“You are still sweet on him, aren’t you?”
The old drunk wriggled in an oddly seductive manner. “Says his number one fan. Maybe he’ll send you an autographed picture for your trouble.”
“And the answer is, I don’t know. He’s out of Purgatory.”
The drunk wrinkled his nose. “And probably still making googly eyes at Dean Winchester. Not that I blame him. He is one fine looking boy. He makes my panties warm. Even in this vessel.”
Inias shook his head in frustration. “Too much information, Meg.”
