Seven Hells, Part 12 of ?
Jan. 29th, 2013 04:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: Seven Hells, Part 12 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 gallivant off into an AU and never return. There are OCs here: some I’ve invented, some from the dark recesses of my brain, and some plucked from various world mythologies. Also, no beta, so if you dig minor spelling errors, you should be in heaven.
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: Although this is set during S8, and I've tried to kinda sorta follow canon for once, this is an AU storyline, which fundamentally diverges from what they’re currently doing on the show.
“Hey guys, check it out!”
Dean wiped the sleep out of his eyes, while Cas put a marker in the book he was reading, Snakes in Suits. “Sammy,” Dean muttered. “Two words. Knock. First. Dumb son of a bitch.”
“I think that’s more than two words, Dean,” grinned Sam as he pulled up a chair and swung his feet up on the bed, opening his laptop. One of Odin’s monstrous pet wolves, which had followed him inside, curled up loyally at his feet. “By the way, you might wanna sneak back to your own room before Metatron catches you in flagrante.”
“I ain’t afraid of no archangel,” Dean declared. Because, truly, he'd had enough grief out of those bastards.
“Anyway, they’ve struck again.” Sam looked repellently smug.
“Who? The angels?” Dean rummaged around for his pants.
Sam typed away on his laptop. “Looks that way. Same M.O. Guys in suits appear, give a speech about the wages of sin, then boom!”
Dean found himself annoyed at angel as a general principle. Well, except for Cas, who looked up at him innocently, as if he had caught Dean's last thought. “What did they hit this time?”
“Some Broadway show.”
“We should ask Bibi about this one,” said Cas. “He’s a big patron of live theater.”
“We?” asked Dean, zipping his fly. “Are you coming with us?” Maybe it wasn't a terrific idea, but on the other hand, though he would never admit it, he missed his angel.
“Yes.”
Dean grinned. “Not without your pants.”
“You boys want breakfast?” asked Odin. Sam hadn’t bothered to shut the door, and now the god was standing in the threshhold.
“That would be great!” said Dean, rubbing his stomach and grabbing his T-shirt from where someone had flung it onto a chair.
“You might wanna go scoot back to your room before Mets see you, boy,” Odin suggested.
“For the last time, I’m not afraid of Metatron,” declared Dean from somewhere inside a Metallica T-shirt.
“Who’s not afraid of me?” asked Metatron, poking her head around Odin. “Oh, no! You didn’t!”
“Uh. Didn’t what?” asked Dean, who moved to kick the rest of his clothes under Cas’s bed.
Dean cringed as Metatron charged into the room. Cas clutched the sheets up around him. “Oh, quit. I’ve seen male vessels before,” Metatron snorted as she seized the angel’s face and began to stare into his eyes. “Hmmmmm. Actually, he looks a lot better this morning. Yes, lots less peaked. Oh well, my bad.” She patted Cas affectionately on the cheek as he looked a bit dumbfounded.
“I’m going out with Sam and Dean today,” Cas told her.
“Well, all right,” Metatron told Cas indulgently. “Make sure he eats something for breakfast!” she warned Dean. “I’m going for a ride. Odin?” Metatron turned and marched out of the room.
“I’ll come with,” Odin called after her. “She gets a little stir-crazy, hiding up here,” he confided. “I'll have someone bring a breakfast tray around. You might consider getting dressed beforehand.” And then with a grin, he was off.
“Dude, is Metatron your commanding general or your mom?” Sam playfully taunted Cas.
“I.... I haven't experienced a mother before. Is.... Is this what it's like?”
“Don't ask me,” muttered Sam, his voice now tinged with sadness.
“Guys, let's focus,” said Dean. “Start thinking, what does a high school football game have in common with a Broadway show?”
“It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke,” sighed Sam.
“An angel and a demon walk into a bar,” said Cas, his eyes bright.
Sam frowned. “What the hell is that, Cas?”
“It’s a joke.” He straightened up. “Mets told me. An angel and a demon walk into a bar. The bartender asks, 'Is this some kind of joke?' So the angel turns around and smites the demon. The bartender asks, 'What was that?' The angel says, 'It's funnier in Enochian.'”
Dean howled with laughter, while Sam just looked perplexed. “Okayyyy,” he said.
“And you said you surmised the angels were upset about the blasphemous team names, Dean?” asked Cas, ever eager to show his hunting chops.
“Yeah.”
“Perhaps the play's subject matter was objectionable to them?”
“Glengarry Glen Ross?” said Bibi. It was intermission, and they were all clutching little plastic cups full of wine.
“Yeah, what's it about?” asked Dean. He usually didn't drink wine, but this stuff was pretty damn good, and most probably didn’t come out of a box.
“Selling real estate,” said the Rakshasa. Despite currently posing as a human, the air around him seemed to turn a bit darker with his agitation.
“Why would this annoy angels?” asked Sam.
“What doesn’t annoy angels?” sighed Bibi.
“The wine is tasty!” said Cas, as all looked at him. “I don't find it annoying.”
“Hey, I go to the loo and we have visitors!” said Ruth, who had indeed just showed up in the crowded theater lobby. “How are you, Castiel? Are you feeling better?”
Cas blushed. “I am much recovered. Thank you for asking.”
“You wanna watch the second act with us? It’s How to Train Your Dragon. It’s really excellent. The dragons are fantastic.”
“Isn’t that a kid’s show?” asked Dean.
“I think it’s useful for Ruthie,” said Bibi, taking her hand.
“Useful?” asked Dean, but he got no further information from the pair of smitten gods.
“They’re on a case, love,” Bibi told Ruth. “Some angels came in and walloped a show of Glengarry Glen Ross.”
Ruth wrinkled her nose. “Oh, yuck, that horrible show with the men cursing?”
“It won a bloody Pulitzer!”
“There is a lot of cursing in this play?” asked Cas, who suddenly seemed interested in something other than the wine.
Ruth rolled her eyes. “That’s all it is! Everyone is grumpy and conniving and horrible, every character, and it’s all fuck this, fuck that, fuck the other.”
“Do they take the Lord’s name in vain?” asked Cas, narrowing his eyes.
“Oh, hell yes. Every line.”
Dean frowned. “Wait, Cas. You gotta be joking. You think they got in trouble for cursing? Even for a bunch of angels, isn’t that a little weak?”
“It’s one of the Ten Commandments, Dean,” his brother reminded him.
“They’re gonna ding you for cursing?” asked Dean, mentally tallying up his own violations, which were legion.
“Sam,” said Cas. “Could this be the pattern? A violation of the biblical Ten Commandments?”
Sam looked up, thinking. “The first one was demons and devils. That could count as ‘have no other gods before me.’ And now taking the Lord’s name in vain….”
“Then what’s up next?” asked Dean.
Sam opened his mouth, but Cas spoke first. “In the Philonic, Talmudic, or Augustinian division?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Just pick one.”
“Remember the Sabbath, and keep it holy.” In Cas's voice, it really did sound like an order from God himself.
“So we have ‘til Sunday. That’s not much time.”
“Jewish Shabbat is observed from sundown on Friday-“ Cas began.
“Wait, we don’t even know which Sabbath?” asked Dean, who wasn't familiar with the concept much outside the oeuvre of Ozzy Osbourne.
Cas's face was a deadpan of sincerity. “Humans tend to be … capricious.”
“We have to figure out what Azrael would consider the Sabbath, and what he thinks is a violation,” said Sam.
The lights began to flash on and off. “The second act is starting,” said Bibi. “Sure you fellows don’t want to stay? Ruth can scrounge good tickets.”
Dean shook his head. “No, we should probably get back on the trail of some capricious angels. Thanks, guys,”
Cas zapped them back to the last place the Impala had been stashed: Moab, Utah, although the journey in his weakened state clearly wore on the angel. After checking in to an appropriately funky motel, Dean insisted that they grab lunch, and actually allowed Cas to eat most of his own meal, though he did steal a few french fries (even though, as Sam helpfully pointed out, Dean had his own). Afterwards they deposited Sam at a local library, and then Dean drove Cas out to the edge of town, to a large abandoned parking lot, although Cas was not amused when Dean revealed the purpose of their mission.
“I fail to see why an angel would need to operate a motor vehicle, Dean.”
Dean had managed, with much cajoling, to wrangle his angel into the driver’s seat of the Impala, but now they stood at an impasse, Cas scowling with his arms crossed, not unlike a truculent five year old. “Hey, you’re always whining about sitting in the front seat!” Dean, said, attempting to be reasonable. This garnered The Great Scowl of Smiting. “Okay, look, what if we’re off on a job and I get injured so I can’t drive?”
“Sam will drive.”
“And what if Sam isn’t with us?”
“I will transport you to safety, Dean.”
“No you won't. Your grace is still healing up,” said Dean. That got a side glance. It was still a touchy subject. But damned if he was going to lose this battle of wills with a stubborn seraph. “There I am, Cas, lying, bleeding on the ground….”
Cas turned towards Dean, a skeptical look in his eyes. “Why are you bleeding?”
“Well, something got me. Obviously.”
“What got you?”
“Uhhhh. A revenant?”
Cas smiled smugly. “Then I will heal you.”
“Your mojo’s still flakey! I just said that. You’ve gotta get me to a hospital.” Dean suddenly moaned, clutched his side, and collapsed with a flourish against the bench seat, sticking his tongue out to emphasize the seriousness of the illness. He stuck one hand up, jingling the car keys.
Cas irritably snatched away the keys.
“OK,” said Dean, sitting up despite his imaginary mortal wounds. “Now first you need to turn her on. So take the key-“
Cas flicked his hand.
The motor started.
Cas smiled with satisfaction.
“OK. Cas. That’s cool. That’s really, really cool. And the next time we need to hot wire a car, we’ll ask you. But I said, no mojo.”
Cas’s brow wrinkled.
“Cas. Turn it off and do it the right damn way!”
The engine went off. Angelic resentment permeated the front seat.
“So, key goes in here,” Dean instructed. “Now, make sure that your foot is on the brake and it’s in park. Got that?”
Cas nodded unenthusiastically, although he checked the parameters as Dean had instructed.
“OK. Ease the key forward until it catches, and then back up.”
Cas did as instructed, rolling his eyes as the engine started once again.
“All right. Let’s check the adjustment on the mirrors-“
“I can see the full back windshield through the rear-view mirror, Dean. I would be able to sense traffic in back of us-“
“Not without your mojo you wouldn’t! No angel bullshit, we’re gonna just do this right. Now, check your blind spots. Turn your damn head!”
Cas sighed and looked over his shoulder. “There is no traffic approaching from the middle of this empty parking lot,” he grumbled.
“Great! Now we go to drive, and ease off the brake, and onto the throttle.”
Cas shifted the lever mounted on the steering wheel into drive, and then, with a bored deliberation, shifted a foot from the brake to the accelerator. The car lurched forward, but then, after only a few meters, suddenly slammed to a halt as Cas slammed the brake.
“What’s wrong? I’m bleeding out, remember!” Dean looked over at Cas, who, sitting wide-eyed in the driver’s seat, appeared to have just witnessed the Second Coming.
“That was…. Dean. The sensation….” Cas scowled at his feet, as if they had betrayed him.
Dean grinned from ear to ear, patting the dashboard affectionately. “Yeah, wait ‘til you open her up on a highway. Now, keep going this time, we’re gonna circle the parking lot. Up ahead, and turn left.”
More carefully this time, Cas slid his foot to the accelerator and approached the edge of the parking lot, where he braked and turned. He completed the same maneuver, with lessening awkwardness, twice, then three times, then finally a fourth time, which brought them back where they had begun.
“OK, this time we’ll add signals, since you’re not gonna be driving around an empty parking lot.”
“Dean! This vehicle obeys your commands.”
“Yeah. I’ll take you underneath and show you the drive train when we get back. Now, that’s your turn signal….”
When they picked him up later, Sam announced that he had found a short list of potential Ten Commandment violations. “Oh, and conveniently enough, none of them are anywhere near each other,” Dean sighed as he looked over the list.
“You’re welcome,” grunted Sam from his place in the back seat. “And what’s up with the angel chauffeur?” he added, as, oddly enough, Cas was the one driving them back to the motel.
“You’re gonna hunt, you gotta drive,” said Dean.
“He’s an angel, Dean,” his brother informed him.
“Really? Whoa. With wings and shit?”
“Does he even know the rules of the road?”
Cas, who was pouring all of his angelic attentiveness into checking his blind spot and proper turn signal operation, piped up. “I have memorized the Department of Motor Vehicles pamphlet, Sam. By the way, do you know I have noted that you habitually do not signal with sufficient distance from the turn? This might hamper road safety.”
“You hear that? You hamper road safety, Sam,” laughed Dean, as Sam fumed.
“Metatron might be able to help you narrow down the list, Sam,” Cas offered. “She’s better acquainted with Azrael than I am.”
“Hey, good idea, Cas,” said Dean, pulling out his phone.
Sam huffed in frustration. “Dean, before you hit the speed dial to your favorite Norse god again, have you considered we’re maybe using that card too often?”
“What’s the matter? Odin’s a good guy. He helped us when Cas was hurt.”
“Yeah, but he’s got his own agenda. They always do. He was hiding an archangel and a tablet from us. I mean, what else does the guy have going on?”
Dean was having none of it. “The dude has shared some pretty heavy secrets with us. And besides, this time we’re gonna chat with Metatron. It’s pretty clear she likes Cas, so I think she’s cool.”
“Do you think Metatron likes me?” Cas asked, actually venturing to turn his head towards Dean for a brief moment.
“She lets you call her Mets, dude.”
Cas puffed up.
“Wait, has Cas got a crush on Metatron?” asked Sam, hooking his elbows over the back of the front seat.
“It’s not a crush,” Dean told him.
“She is very …well-regarded,” sighed Cas, his eyes getting a dreamy cast to them.
“See? She’s well-regarded.”
“It’s a crush.”
“Shut up, Sammy.”
“The weather if fine today. I’m going out for a ride. Care to come along, Dean?” asked Odin.
Dean gave his best puppy dog eyes to Sam, who waved him off. “Go ahead. Me and Metatron need to do, you know, work.”
“Your brother seems to get along well with Odin,” Metatron commented as Dean and Odin left the room, the Norse god clapping the hunter on the shoulder.
“He’d move up here if they let him,” Sam grumbled. “Dean always wanted to be a big legendary hero, like a cowboy or Batman or something.”
Metatron did the angel-stare thing at Sam for an uncomfortably long while. “And what about you, Sam?” she finally asked.
“I just wanna be normal. I’ve always wanted to be normal. And boring. Just a house with a white picket fence. And kids on a swing set out back. You know, normal.”
Metatron frowned. She turned and said something to Cas in Enochian. Cas gestured at Sam and then they went back and forth. And then he turned to Sam. “She was asking about the fence. She was confused as to why you would not choose cold iron, as that keeps spirits at bay. I told her it was not so much the particular style or composition as what it symbolizes. It's a metaphor. Isn’t that true?”
I am explaining to a pair of space aliens about how I want to be normal, thought Sam. This is my life.
“Up here,” said Odin.
Dean patted his horse and tied up her reigns, and then hurried after Odin to peer down the overlook. The view, of rolling plains rimmed by purple mountains, was astonishingly bright despite the perpetually low sun.
“That’s Valhalla back there,” the king pointed out. Dean followed his finger to see the golden hall, now far in the distance. “And that’s Gladsheim, and over there, the temple of the goddesses, Vingolf.”
It was all very stark, but very beautiful. “So, this is all Asgard?”
“Far as the eye can see. And it’s only one of the Nine Worlds!”
“I just wanna take off and ride around and see everything, you know?”
“I had the same notion, back when I was your age.” Odin pulled out a cigar case from his vest, offering one to Dean.
“There’s just never any time, you know? And we always end up dealing with crap. Demons and angels … and gods. It always seems to fall in our laps.”
Odin lit his cigar. “It’s a lot to put on a mortal man.”
“It’s a lot to put on anyone.” Dean wasn't exactly sure why he was venting to Odin. Dude had had to fend off a demon attack not too long ago. Plus the whole “getting murdered by Lucifer” thing.
“Your angel – he’s immortal.”
Dean studied his cigar. “If I can keep him alive this time, yeah.”
“You worry about him?”
“All the time.” Dean turned to Odin. “I’m glad he’s found people like you. He needs people to take care of him. When I’m gone.”
Odin looked thoughtful. “What if it didn’t have to be that way?”
Dean snorted. “You mean cut out his grace? I’ve had to talk him out of it. Killing himself isn’t the answer. You saw how bad he was when it was injured. I don't think being human suits him.” He thought again of the terrible vision of 2014 Cas Zachariah had shown him so long ago. Zachariah had been an ass, that was certain, but it carried a ring of truth for Dean.
“No. But you know, Bibi and Ruth came up against the same thing.”
Dean stared at Odin.
Odin turned to gaze out at the view. “You met my son, Baldur, right? That day at the Elysian Fields?”
Dean frowned at the sudden change in topic. “Briefly. Before Lucifer ganked him. And ganked you.”
Odin smiled. “We were idiots. We probably deserved it.”
“Well…. Yeah, actually.” It was difficult for Dean to think of the Odin as even the same person who had showed up at the hotel so long ago, raving about Ragnarok. Dean considered things for a moment. “So. Did Metatron bring you back?”
“Yes. Yes she did, actually. She had given over the tablet to my predecessor, and then took off for wherever the hell she goes when she’s feeling footloose. But according to what they tell me, she showed up one day, a few years back, after the apocalypse nonsense was wrapped up, and then took it upon herself to call me back.”
“New and improved,” said Dean.
“I’m not exactly new, and the latter is up for debate,” laughed Odin.
“No, something a friend said to me once. And she used spells from the tablet?”
“Yes, although she occasionally has trouble reading her own handwriting after all this time. But there’s an essential trick to it, the summoning. You can’t create something from nothing. Nobody has that power, outside God himself.”
Dean thought about it. “So. You were a mortal before you were … you? Like Ruth?”
“Yes, exactly! I was a businessman. My family had money, I then made a lot more money pushing other money around. I ended up giving a good chunk of it away to charity.”
“I guess rich people think differently.”
“I think they do, son. I was also a member of my country’s Olympic equestrian team. That’s how Mets spotted me.”
“You were just some horsey rich dude?” laughed Dean.
“I was just some horsey rich dude,” grinned Odin.
“But you remember all of that? So it’s not like being a vessel?”
“No, I am definitely not an empty vessel. I’m still me. Substantially. But I gained all his powers. And his memories. I’m not saying it was easy: if I had any idea, pretty as she is, I might have told Mets to go fuck herself when she asked.”
Dean nodded.
“Then together, we brought back Kali’s son, and made Ruth the new Trickster when Bibi's pantheon asked for a favor.”
“And Baldur?” asked Dean.
“Baldur. He had a quality to him. A very special quality. I never met anyone who disliked him.”
Dean stopped to consider. “You didn't bring back Baldur yet because you're looking for the right dude.
“Well, that’s the key, Dean. Metatron has the tablet with the right mumbo jumbo, but the heart of it is to find the right person. We searched high and low to find Ganesha. I think we chose right.”
“And Ruth?”
Chuckling, Odin puffed out cigar smoke. “I think that one was literally born to be a Trickster.”
Dean was silent.
Odin turned to face Dean. “And as for Baldur-“
Dean stared. Odin’s hand was on his shoulder. “Odin-“
“I think I’ve finally found the right man.”
Dean had been acting uncharacteristically subdued when Cas got them all back to the motel. “So, Metatron swore up and down that the angels are gonna target the golf tournament,” Sam told them.
“Any special reason?” asked Dean, who was staring off into the distance.
“She just kept repeating, I know my brother, I know my brother.”
“I guess she does. They’ve both been around a million billion years, right?”
“Yeah.”
There was an uncomfortable silence.
“Well, I’m heading off to my room I guess,” said Sam. Dean grunted and, without any word, started to move towards the stairs.
“Good night, Sam,” said Cas, heading after Dean.
Sam was left in the parking lot, thinking that Cas almost never bothered to say goodbye.
Cas and Dean entered their own room in silence. “You are troubled this evening, Dean. More troubled than usual, anyway.”
“Did you know about this, Cas?” asked Dean, thunking down on one of the beds.
Cas sat down across from him. “Know about what, Dean?”
“Odin just offered me a job.”
“Yes?” Cas looked honestly puzzled.
“As the new Baldur.”
Cas’s jaw dropped and, as Dean watched, about twenty different emotions flickered across the usually impassive angel’s face. “What … did you say to him Dean?”
“Of course I turned him down. Flat.” Dean kicked off his shoes and scooted back to sit cross-legged on the bed.
“Oh.” Cas sat staring intently at the floor.
“But he told me I need to think about it for a couple weeks. You think I’m being an idiot, don't you?”
“No. Dean.” Cas held up his hands, but didn’t meet Dean’s eyes. “I haven’t- I don’t know. I didn’t know about this. Whatever you do, that’s fine. Of course.”
“You didn’t want me to be Michael’s vessel.”
Cas’s eyes went wide. “That would have destroyed you.”
“But you think it’s OK to play Kermit the Frog for a pagan god?”
Cas frowned. “We both witnessed Ruth going through the process. I don’t believe she is any kind of puppet.”
“Well, it turns out the new Odin was some Norwegian do-gooder before he got tapped.”
Cas was nodding. “He was human? Yes. That makes sense now. Only my Father can create anew.”
Dean was scowling at the angel. “And you think this all is great?”
“Dean. I have my own selfish reasons for wishing you to follow … a particular path. But it’s not for me to say.”
“Why not?”
“What?”
“Cas. You're my closest friend. The closest … I've ever been to anybody except Sammy. I need to hear you, man. You should say what you think. Remember? No bullshit.”
Cas cast his eyes down and held his sides. He whispered something.
Dean leaned forward to put his hands on Cas's knees. “Okay. What? Spit it out.”
“I…. I want you to do it.”
Dean swallowed hard. “All right, well. Okay. Look, do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Don't tell Sammy.”
Cas stared. “Dean. Why would you not want to tell your brother?”
“There's just.... I'm just.... There's a lot of stuff going on right now. I just need a couple days. There's a crazy archangel of death on the loose, and we gotta keep our head in the game.”
“So.... You haven't actually decided?”
Dean cringed at the hopeful look in Cas's eyes. “Cas. I know where you're coming from. But we have no idea if I'd be the same person afterwards.”
Cas nodded, wiping an eye. “Dean. It’s your decision. I just know that, after you … die, for the last time, your soul will likely journey to the one place where I am not welcome any more.”
Dean crossed over to sit next to Cas, draping an arm over his shoulders. “Look. We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure something out.”
“You said … no bullshit,” Cas told him.
“I did, didn’t I? Well you know something? I’m an idiot.”
“I know.”
Dean smiled.
“Dean, please promise me something. Before you decide, no matter what you decide, talk to your brother.”
“I-”
“Promise me, Dean.”
Dean leaned over to kiss Cas, but the angel gently pushed him back. “Stubborn seraph. Okay. When I find the right time, I'll talk to Sam.”
“What is the right time?”
“Some time when we're, you know, relaxed.”
Cas looked skeptical, but allowed Dean to kiss him this time.
“I don't understand, Dean. Why are we dressed like this?”
“Because this is golf, Cas,” said Dean, who turned to straighten up Cas's horrible golf sweater. “It's the only place where grown men can run around in purple and green plaid and get away with it.”
“I thought we were supposed to remain inconspicuous,” said Cas, eyeing his purple and green plaid pants.
“You'll fit right in,” grinned Dean, as Odin walked up. The Norse god's golf pants were grey and blue plaid, and his sweater had lines of huge red and blue diamonds running up and down. The golf course stretched out for miles, and it was a bright, sunny day, making their ridiculous clothes shine all the brighter. Birds sang, it all smelled like new-mown grass, and it was kind of awesome.
“Thanks for getting us in on this,” said Sam, who actually looked very spiffy in his golf togs. Dean would have thought that his brother had made some kind of deal with the devil, but he knew better.
“Thought it would benefit us to keep an eye on this from the inside.” Odin cast an eye around the course. It was early, and the crowds had just begun to arrive. “They'll be following the professionals around, and the real celebrities, so they're not likely to pay us much mind.”
“So you're still … you?” asked Dean. “I mean, human you? Like a secret identity?”
Odin laughed. “Yes, I guess you could say that. And I was a celebrity, though a very minor one.” Cas stood pulling at his ugly golf sweater. “Hadn't occurred to me that your angel hadn't played before though. Will you be able to fake it, Castiel?”
Cas furrowed his brow at Odin. “Playing a human game? It shouldn't be any problem,” he scoffed.
“I'll watch over him,” grinned Dean, clapping Cas's shoulder. “Keep him out of the rough.”
“We should be on the lookout for angels,” Cas retorted.
“I think we'll have enough eyes out for that,” said Odin, waving to some new arrivals.
“I can't believe they don't let women play on this course,” groused Ruth, who, in contrast to absolutely everyone else, was dressed in her usual black on black thrift shop clothes.
“Probably not in that outfit, it's too tasteful,” joked Odin.
“My darling dearest, can you even play golf?” asked Bibi, his arm around her shoulders.
“Well.... No.”
“Cas doesn't play either,” Dean volunteered, as Cas bristled. “We just dressed him up in pastels.”
“You are a novice, Castiel?” asked Yamaraja, who had just walked up with Hades. The Hindu hell god had once again donned his mortal look, and Hades had turned down the flame so he too looked almost human.
“I haven't played golf before,” Cas sulked.
“Then it should be my honor to partner with you!” said Yamaraja. “I so enjoy introducing new people to the links! It is one of my favorite pastimes.”
“You golf, Yama?” snorted Hades. “Wouldn't bowling be more suitable?”
“You must get out of your environment every so often, that's what I say,” Yamaraja told him.
Cas looked questioningly at Dean. “Yeah, sure, why don't you go with him,” said Dean.
“Will you and Sam be all right?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “I think we've sort of figured out how to take care of ourselves, yeah.”
“I'm so sorry, am I totally late?” asked Namtar, who came rushing up looking frantic. “Ninazu really wanted to come and see Cas and the guys and I had to convince him it would be boring and dangerous....”
Cas's face produced a short but sweet burst of a smile. “I will see Ninazu afterwards. We have many pages of his book yet to color.”
“Oh, yeah, hey, he'd appreciate that! He never stops talking about you.”
Dean elbowed Sam and whispered, “Have you ever seen that kid actually say a word?” Sam grinned and shrugged.
Odin raised his arms. “Now, Namtar, you come along with me and Sam and Dean, son. Our tee off time is approaching. The rest of you, keep a close watch.”
“And remember this ain't like fighting demons,” said Bibi.
“We are hopefully not fighting, as we are hopelessly overmatched,” said Odin. “Our priority is to get people to safety. Bamboozle them a bit, like Ruth.”
“I wanna play,” grumped Ruth.
“I'll let ya tee off when we're out of sight,” Bibi promised as they walked off.
“It's still capitulating to the patriarchy.”
As far as the game of golf went, Dean found he was rusty as hell, but he still managed to have a good time. Namtar, with some coaching, was not half bad, and Odin, of course, was a wonderful player, as was Sam, once he got warmed up.
“Why are you laughing?” Sam asked Dean as they walked in the warm sunshine.
“Oh, I was just thinking, this is your life, isn't it, Sammy? Spending Sunday wearing a ridiculous outfit, out chasing after a little white ball?”
Despite the lovely surroundings, Sam creased his brow. “Yeah, Dean, actually. I wouldn't mind this.”
Dean grinned wide. “Hey. Maybe, some day.”
“Really?”
“Don't be so skeptical.”
They walked down to the green, where Odin was talking Namtar through his putt.
“You have to figure in the lie of the grass as well. You saw what happened with my attempts!”
“You curse like a demon, Uncle Odin,” grinned Namtar, who was squatting down to line up his shot.
“Wonder how Cas is doing,” Dean whispered to Sam.
“He probably got annoyed and is just using his mojo.”
“He wouldn't do that!”
“Very good! Excellent!” said Odin as Namtar sank the putt.
“Oh, cool, you're one shot under for this one, Namtar,” Sam told him as he squinted at the score sheet. He walked over to the green to confer with Namtar.
“I rock!” yelled the boy.
Odin had drifted over to where Dean was standing on the edge of the green. “That one doesn't have much of a relationship with his stepfather. I think a boy needs a male role model. And I'm damned grateful you boys have shown an interest.”
“Well, yeah, I know about deadbeat dads,” Dean sighed. “By the way, Odin, that … thing we talked about the other day-”
“Now, I already told you, I'll take no answer, yes or no, for at least two weeks! I didn't know what I was jumping into. I hope you'll be able to think on it. Talk it over with your brother.”
“Sam doesn't know.”
Odin stared. “You didn't tell Sam?”
“Didn't tell me what?” asked Sam, who had just walked up, and who evidently hadn't had his ears totally ruined by years of listening to Dean's heavy metal tapes blasting through the car.
“Sam-” said Dean.
There was a flash of light. And then a scream. And they all ran charging as fast as they could up towards the sound, back towards the low rise where they had all teed off.
And there they were, a cluster of suit-clad douche bags standing in the middle of the course. A pro foursome was playing through, and they had collected quite a crowd. Some of the frightened spectators had already tried to run, only to be corralled by the angels. The rest watched, frozen in terror.
One of the taller male angels stepped up to speak. “The wages of sin is- Oh what the fuck?”
Because just then a sleek black dragon came screaming over the hill. It looked an awful lot like a Night Fury. It was soon joined by a Monstrous Nightmare and a Hideous Zippleback.
The crowd broke and ran as the angels were distracted by the terrifying monsters approaching from the sky. Several of them began making smiting gestures, to absolutely no effect, which appeared to confuse them.
“Namtar, you and Sam go help people to safety. Dean, with me,” ordered Odin, who drew his sword and took off running straight into the heart of the battle.
The lead angel cringed as the Night Fury dive-bombed him, spraying him with fire. He shook his head in confusion though when he realized he wasn't burned.
“It's a trick! Ignore them!” the angel boomed. He turned, and Hades threw a fireball at him. The angel shrieked as his clothes started to burn. “Shit!” the angel screamed. “That one's real!”
But then there was an angel blade sticking from his charred chest, and he sunk the ground, a hot white light glowing out of him, as Cas stood over him, holding a bloody angel sword.
Ruth rushed another angel, who kept trying to smite her to absolutely no effect. She kicked him in the neck, and then hopped away, shouting in pain. The angel was yanked back and stabbed with an angel sword by Bibi.
“That one!” Odin shouted to Dean, who ran around behind him. The angel found himself pinned to a tree with Odin's spear, and Dean made short work of him with his angel blade. But then another angle gestured at Dean and sent him flying. He landed on soft grass, and raised his head in time to see Cas crossing swords with his attacker.
“Cas! Look out!”
Cas managed to stab the woman he was fighting in time to turn around and get his sword up to face another attacker, who knocked Cas down. Yamaraja was behind, and got his saber into the guy, but unfortunately he didn't have an angel sword, so it only distracted his foe. The angel turned, drew out the blade, and gutted Yamaraja before Cas could leap to his feet.
Bibi, with a yell of, “Uncle, No!” ended up stabbing the angel with his angel sword. He then sunk to his knees beside Yamaraja, who was bleeding badly from his terrible wound..
Dean got up and, though still feeling shaky, ran towards the thick of the fighting.
“Stop!”
Dean halted, as did everyone else.
A female angel was standing in their midst. A male angel beside her was holding Namtar, angel blade at the boy's throat. Sam was standing nearby, looking panicked.
“Naomi!” shouted Cas. “Let him go. Now!'
“Castiel.” She seemed preternaturally calm. “We want the tablet. Give us the angel tablet.”
“We don't have the angel tablet,” Cas told her. “You should know that.”
“Then find it. Or he dies.”
“Just let him go,” Sam pleaded. “He's just a kid.”
“He's an abomination,” sneered Naomi. She turned to stare at Castiel again. “And so are you. You have fallen in every way possible, Castiel.”
Cas took a step forward, and she cringed. “If any harm comes to that boy, I will do everything in my power to see you fall farther. And harder.”
The angel guarding Namtar shrieked, holding up his hand, which the boy had just managed to bite right in the tender spot between the thumb and forefinger. The angel waved a hand at him.
“Namtar!” shouted Sam, who pushed the boy out of the way. He fell to the ground in a dead faint as the angel smote him instead of Namtar.
“Take him! Now!” shouted Naomi. The bleeding bitten angel gestured at Sam, and then he and Sam both disappeared to the sound of beating wings.
“The angel tablet!” yelled Naomi. “Or he dies.”
Dean didn't even think: he had his angel sword out and rushed Naomi. She sidestepped and then, before anyone could intervene, twisted her hand, and Dean fell, his own sword in his abdomen.
And then Naomi, and the remaining angels, disappeared with a rush of wings.
“Cas,” muttered Dean. He couldn't see very well, but he knew who was beside him, cradling his head. He reached up blindly and touched the angel's face. And then passed out.
Cas could feel Dean's heart beating more and more slowly. “He's been struck with an angel blade. I can't heal this.” He looked up at Odin, a plea in his eyes. “Odin. He's dying.”
The god knelt down silently beside him. “No one can heal angel blade wounds,” he whispered. “Not even if we get him to Mets in time.”
Cas's eyes were wet. An then he frowned, a look of determination crossing his face. “Odin. The transformation. Do it.”
“Son. You know there’s no taking it back,” said Odin.
“Do it! Now!”
Odin swallowed hard. “Get him up. On his feet. It may already be too late.”
Beginning to panic now, Cas pulled Dean’s arm over his shoulder, yanking the dying hunter up to slump beside him. Hades went over and held Dean from the other side.
“Get me a sword!” ordered Odin. Bibi, who was teary-eyed, handed over Yamaraja's blood-stained saber. Odin raised it heavenward. Thunder cracked. And then he brought the flat side down on one of Dean’s shoulders, and then the other, as if he was knighting him. Then, chanting in Enochian, Odin touched the flat of the blade to his own forehead, and then gently brought the tip down so it was aimed directly at Dean’s heart.
It was like an electrical current. Cas squeezed his eyes shut, blinded by the power. Dean had begun to move on his own, his body suddenly stiff, arched back.
Dean threw back his head and screamed.
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 gallivant off into an AU and never return. There are OCs here: some I’ve invented, some from the dark recesses of my brain, and some plucked from various world mythologies. Also, no beta, so if you dig minor spelling errors, you should be in heaven.
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: Although this is set during S8, and I've tried to kinda sorta follow canon for once, this is an AU storyline, which fundamentally diverges from what they’re currently doing on the show.
“Hey guys, check it out!”
Dean wiped the sleep out of his eyes, while Cas put a marker in the book he was reading, Snakes in Suits. “Sammy,” Dean muttered. “Two words. Knock. First. Dumb son of a bitch.”
“I think that’s more than two words, Dean,” grinned Sam as he pulled up a chair and swung his feet up on the bed, opening his laptop. One of Odin’s monstrous pet wolves, which had followed him inside, curled up loyally at his feet. “By the way, you might wanna sneak back to your own room before Metatron catches you in flagrante.”
“I ain’t afraid of no archangel,” Dean declared. Because, truly, he'd had enough grief out of those bastards.
“Anyway, they’ve struck again.” Sam looked repellently smug.
“Who? The angels?” Dean rummaged around for his pants.
Sam typed away on his laptop. “Looks that way. Same M.O. Guys in suits appear, give a speech about the wages of sin, then boom!”
Dean found himself annoyed at angel as a general principle. Well, except for Cas, who looked up at him innocently, as if he had caught Dean's last thought. “What did they hit this time?”
“Some Broadway show.”
“We should ask Bibi about this one,” said Cas. “He’s a big patron of live theater.”
“We?” asked Dean, zipping his fly. “Are you coming with us?” Maybe it wasn't a terrific idea, but on the other hand, though he would never admit it, he missed his angel.
“Yes.”
Dean grinned. “Not without your pants.”
“You boys want breakfast?” asked Odin. Sam hadn’t bothered to shut the door, and now the god was standing in the threshhold.
“That would be great!” said Dean, rubbing his stomach and grabbing his T-shirt from where someone had flung it onto a chair.
“You might wanna go scoot back to your room before Mets see you, boy,” Odin suggested.
“For the last time, I’m not afraid of Metatron,” declared Dean from somewhere inside a Metallica T-shirt.
“Who’s not afraid of me?” asked Metatron, poking her head around Odin. “Oh, no! You didn’t!”
“Uh. Didn’t what?” asked Dean, who moved to kick the rest of his clothes under Cas’s bed.
Dean cringed as Metatron charged into the room. Cas clutched the sheets up around him. “Oh, quit. I’ve seen male vessels before,” Metatron snorted as she seized the angel’s face and began to stare into his eyes. “Hmmmmm. Actually, he looks a lot better this morning. Yes, lots less peaked. Oh well, my bad.” She patted Cas affectionately on the cheek as he looked a bit dumbfounded.
“I’m going out with Sam and Dean today,” Cas told her.
“Well, all right,” Metatron told Cas indulgently. “Make sure he eats something for breakfast!” she warned Dean. “I’m going for a ride. Odin?” Metatron turned and marched out of the room.
“I’ll come with,” Odin called after her. “She gets a little stir-crazy, hiding up here,” he confided. “I'll have someone bring a breakfast tray around. You might consider getting dressed beforehand.” And then with a grin, he was off.
“Dude, is Metatron your commanding general or your mom?” Sam playfully taunted Cas.
“I.... I haven't experienced a mother before. Is.... Is this what it's like?”
“Don't ask me,” muttered Sam, his voice now tinged with sadness.
“Guys, let's focus,” said Dean. “Start thinking, what does a high school football game have in common with a Broadway show?”
“It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke,” sighed Sam.
“An angel and a demon walk into a bar,” said Cas, his eyes bright.
Sam frowned. “What the hell is that, Cas?”
“It’s a joke.” He straightened up. “Mets told me. An angel and a demon walk into a bar. The bartender asks, 'Is this some kind of joke?' So the angel turns around and smites the demon. The bartender asks, 'What was that?' The angel says, 'It's funnier in Enochian.'”
Dean howled with laughter, while Sam just looked perplexed. “Okayyyy,” he said.
“And you said you surmised the angels were upset about the blasphemous team names, Dean?” asked Cas, ever eager to show his hunting chops.
“Yeah.”
“Perhaps the play's subject matter was objectionable to them?”
“Glengarry Glen Ross?” said Bibi. It was intermission, and they were all clutching little plastic cups full of wine.
“Yeah, what's it about?” asked Dean. He usually didn't drink wine, but this stuff was pretty damn good, and most probably didn’t come out of a box.
“Selling real estate,” said the Rakshasa. Despite currently posing as a human, the air around him seemed to turn a bit darker with his agitation.
“Why would this annoy angels?” asked Sam.
“What doesn’t annoy angels?” sighed Bibi.
“The wine is tasty!” said Cas, as all looked at him. “I don't find it annoying.”
“Hey, I go to the loo and we have visitors!” said Ruth, who had indeed just showed up in the crowded theater lobby. “How are you, Castiel? Are you feeling better?”
Cas blushed. “I am much recovered. Thank you for asking.”
“You wanna watch the second act with us? It’s How to Train Your Dragon. It’s really excellent. The dragons are fantastic.”
“Isn’t that a kid’s show?” asked Dean.
“I think it’s useful for Ruthie,” said Bibi, taking her hand.
“Useful?” asked Dean, but he got no further information from the pair of smitten gods.
“They’re on a case, love,” Bibi told Ruth. “Some angels came in and walloped a show of Glengarry Glen Ross.”
Ruth wrinkled her nose. “Oh, yuck, that horrible show with the men cursing?”
“It won a bloody Pulitzer!”
“There is a lot of cursing in this play?” asked Cas, who suddenly seemed interested in something other than the wine.
Ruth rolled her eyes. “That’s all it is! Everyone is grumpy and conniving and horrible, every character, and it’s all fuck this, fuck that, fuck the other.”
“Do they take the Lord’s name in vain?” asked Cas, narrowing his eyes.
“Oh, hell yes. Every line.”
Dean frowned. “Wait, Cas. You gotta be joking. You think they got in trouble for cursing? Even for a bunch of angels, isn’t that a little weak?”
“It’s one of the Ten Commandments, Dean,” his brother reminded him.
“They’re gonna ding you for cursing?” asked Dean, mentally tallying up his own violations, which were legion.
“Sam,” said Cas. “Could this be the pattern? A violation of the biblical Ten Commandments?”
Sam looked up, thinking. “The first one was demons and devils. That could count as ‘have no other gods before me.’ And now taking the Lord’s name in vain….”
“Then what’s up next?” asked Dean.
Sam opened his mouth, but Cas spoke first. “In the Philonic, Talmudic, or Augustinian division?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Just pick one.”
“Remember the Sabbath, and keep it holy.” In Cas's voice, it really did sound like an order from God himself.
“So we have ‘til Sunday. That’s not much time.”
“Jewish Shabbat is observed from sundown on Friday-“ Cas began.
“Wait, we don’t even know which Sabbath?” asked Dean, who wasn't familiar with the concept much outside the oeuvre of Ozzy Osbourne.
Cas's face was a deadpan of sincerity. “Humans tend to be … capricious.”
“We have to figure out what Azrael would consider the Sabbath, and what he thinks is a violation,” said Sam.
The lights began to flash on and off. “The second act is starting,” said Bibi. “Sure you fellows don’t want to stay? Ruth can scrounge good tickets.”
Dean shook his head. “No, we should probably get back on the trail of some capricious angels. Thanks, guys,”
Cas zapped them back to the last place the Impala had been stashed: Moab, Utah, although the journey in his weakened state clearly wore on the angel. After checking in to an appropriately funky motel, Dean insisted that they grab lunch, and actually allowed Cas to eat most of his own meal, though he did steal a few french fries (even though, as Sam helpfully pointed out, Dean had his own). Afterwards they deposited Sam at a local library, and then Dean drove Cas out to the edge of town, to a large abandoned parking lot, although Cas was not amused when Dean revealed the purpose of their mission.
“I fail to see why an angel would need to operate a motor vehicle, Dean.”
Dean had managed, with much cajoling, to wrangle his angel into the driver’s seat of the Impala, but now they stood at an impasse, Cas scowling with his arms crossed, not unlike a truculent five year old. “Hey, you’re always whining about sitting in the front seat!” Dean, said, attempting to be reasonable. This garnered The Great Scowl of Smiting. “Okay, look, what if we’re off on a job and I get injured so I can’t drive?”
“Sam will drive.”
“And what if Sam isn’t with us?”
“I will transport you to safety, Dean.”
“No you won't. Your grace is still healing up,” said Dean. That got a side glance. It was still a touchy subject. But damned if he was going to lose this battle of wills with a stubborn seraph. “There I am, Cas, lying, bleeding on the ground….”
Cas turned towards Dean, a skeptical look in his eyes. “Why are you bleeding?”
“Well, something got me. Obviously.”
“What got you?”
“Uhhhh. A revenant?”
Cas smiled smugly. “Then I will heal you.”
“Your mojo’s still flakey! I just said that. You’ve gotta get me to a hospital.” Dean suddenly moaned, clutched his side, and collapsed with a flourish against the bench seat, sticking his tongue out to emphasize the seriousness of the illness. He stuck one hand up, jingling the car keys.
Cas irritably snatched away the keys.
“OK,” said Dean, sitting up despite his imaginary mortal wounds. “Now first you need to turn her on. So take the key-“
Cas flicked his hand.
The motor started.
Cas smiled with satisfaction.
“OK. Cas. That’s cool. That’s really, really cool. And the next time we need to hot wire a car, we’ll ask you. But I said, no mojo.”
Cas’s brow wrinkled.
“Cas. Turn it off and do it the right damn way!”
The engine went off. Angelic resentment permeated the front seat.
“So, key goes in here,” Dean instructed. “Now, make sure that your foot is on the brake and it’s in park. Got that?”
Cas nodded unenthusiastically, although he checked the parameters as Dean had instructed.
“OK. Ease the key forward until it catches, and then back up.”
Cas did as instructed, rolling his eyes as the engine started once again.
“All right. Let’s check the adjustment on the mirrors-“
“I can see the full back windshield through the rear-view mirror, Dean. I would be able to sense traffic in back of us-“
“Not without your mojo you wouldn’t! No angel bullshit, we’re gonna just do this right. Now, check your blind spots. Turn your damn head!”
Cas sighed and looked over his shoulder. “There is no traffic approaching from the middle of this empty parking lot,” he grumbled.
“Great! Now we go to drive, and ease off the brake, and onto the throttle.”
Cas shifted the lever mounted on the steering wheel into drive, and then, with a bored deliberation, shifted a foot from the brake to the accelerator. The car lurched forward, but then, after only a few meters, suddenly slammed to a halt as Cas slammed the brake.
“What’s wrong? I’m bleeding out, remember!” Dean looked over at Cas, who, sitting wide-eyed in the driver’s seat, appeared to have just witnessed the Second Coming.
“That was…. Dean. The sensation….” Cas scowled at his feet, as if they had betrayed him.
Dean grinned from ear to ear, patting the dashboard affectionately. “Yeah, wait ‘til you open her up on a highway. Now, keep going this time, we’re gonna circle the parking lot. Up ahead, and turn left.”
More carefully this time, Cas slid his foot to the accelerator and approached the edge of the parking lot, where he braked and turned. He completed the same maneuver, with lessening awkwardness, twice, then three times, then finally a fourth time, which brought them back where they had begun.
“OK, this time we’ll add signals, since you’re not gonna be driving around an empty parking lot.”
“Dean! This vehicle obeys your commands.”
“Yeah. I’ll take you underneath and show you the drive train when we get back. Now, that’s your turn signal….”
When they picked him up later, Sam announced that he had found a short list of potential Ten Commandment violations. “Oh, and conveniently enough, none of them are anywhere near each other,” Dean sighed as he looked over the list.
“You’re welcome,” grunted Sam from his place in the back seat. “And what’s up with the angel chauffeur?” he added, as, oddly enough, Cas was the one driving them back to the motel.
“You’re gonna hunt, you gotta drive,” said Dean.
“He’s an angel, Dean,” his brother informed him.
“Really? Whoa. With wings and shit?”
“Does he even know the rules of the road?”
Cas, who was pouring all of his angelic attentiveness into checking his blind spot and proper turn signal operation, piped up. “I have memorized the Department of Motor Vehicles pamphlet, Sam. By the way, do you know I have noted that you habitually do not signal with sufficient distance from the turn? This might hamper road safety.”
“You hear that? You hamper road safety, Sam,” laughed Dean, as Sam fumed.
“Metatron might be able to help you narrow down the list, Sam,” Cas offered. “She’s better acquainted with Azrael than I am.”
“Hey, good idea, Cas,” said Dean, pulling out his phone.
Sam huffed in frustration. “Dean, before you hit the speed dial to your favorite Norse god again, have you considered we’re maybe using that card too often?”
“What’s the matter? Odin’s a good guy. He helped us when Cas was hurt.”
“Yeah, but he’s got his own agenda. They always do. He was hiding an archangel and a tablet from us. I mean, what else does the guy have going on?”
Dean was having none of it. “The dude has shared some pretty heavy secrets with us. And besides, this time we’re gonna chat with Metatron. It’s pretty clear she likes Cas, so I think she’s cool.”
“Do you think Metatron likes me?” Cas asked, actually venturing to turn his head towards Dean for a brief moment.
“She lets you call her Mets, dude.”
Cas puffed up.
“Wait, has Cas got a crush on Metatron?” asked Sam, hooking his elbows over the back of the front seat.
“It’s not a crush,” Dean told him.
“She is very …well-regarded,” sighed Cas, his eyes getting a dreamy cast to them.
“See? She’s well-regarded.”
“It’s a crush.”
“Shut up, Sammy.”
“The weather if fine today. I’m going out for a ride. Care to come along, Dean?” asked Odin.
Dean gave his best puppy dog eyes to Sam, who waved him off. “Go ahead. Me and Metatron need to do, you know, work.”
“Your brother seems to get along well with Odin,” Metatron commented as Dean and Odin left the room, the Norse god clapping the hunter on the shoulder.
“He’d move up here if they let him,” Sam grumbled. “Dean always wanted to be a big legendary hero, like a cowboy or Batman or something.”
Metatron did the angel-stare thing at Sam for an uncomfortably long while. “And what about you, Sam?” she finally asked.
“I just wanna be normal. I’ve always wanted to be normal. And boring. Just a house with a white picket fence. And kids on a swing set out back. You know, normal.”
Metatron frowned. She turned and said something to Cas in Enochian. Cas gestured at Sam and then they went back and forth. And then he turned to Sam. “She was asking about the fence. She was confused as to why you would not choose cold iron, as that keeps spirits at bay. I told her it was not so much the particular style or composition as what it symbolizes. It's a metaphor. Isn’t that true?”
I am explaining to a pair of space aliens about how I want to be normal, thought Sam. This is my life.
“Up here,” said Odin.
Dean patted his horse and tied up her reigns, and then hurried after Odin to peer down the overlook. The view, of rolling plains rimmed by purple mountains, was astonishingly bright despite the perpetually low sun.
“That’s Valhalla back there,” the king pointed out. Dean followed his finger to see the golden hall, now far in the distance. “And that’s Gladsheim, and over there, the temple of the goddesses, Vingolf.”
It was all very stark, but very beautiful. “So, this is all Asgard?”
“Far as the eye can see. And it’s only one of the Nine Worlds!”
“I just wanna take off and ride around and see everything, you know?”
“I had the same notion, back when I was your age.” Odin pulled out a cigar case from his vest, offering one to Dean.
“There’s just never any time, you know? And we always end up dealing with crap. Demons and angels … and gods. It always seems to fall in our laps.”
Odin lit his cigar. “It’s a lot to put on a mortal man.”
“It’s a lot to put on anyone.” Dean wasn't exactly sure why he was venting to Odin. Dude had had to fend off a demon attack not too long ago. Plus the whole “getting murdered by Lucifer” thing.
“Your angel – he’s immortal.”
Dean studied his cigar. “If I can keep him alive this time, yeah.”
“You worry about him?”
“All the time.” Dean turned to Odin. “I’m glad he’s found people like you. He needs people to take care of him. When I’m gone.”
Odin looked thoughtful. “What if it didn’t have to be that way?”
Dean snorted. “You mean cut out his grace? I’ve had to talk him out of it. Killing himself isn’t the answer. You saw how bad he was when it was injured. I don't think being human suits him.” He thought again of the terrible vision of 2014 Cas Zachariah had shown him so long ago. Zachariah had been an ass, that was certain, but it carried a ring of truth for Dean.
“No. But you know, Bibi and Ruth came up against the same thing.”
Dean stared at Odin.
Odin turned to gaze out at the view. “You met my son, Baldur, right? That day at the Elysian Fields?”
Dean frowned at the sudden change in topic. “Briefly. Before Lucifer ganked him. And ganked you.”
Odin smiled. “We were idiots. We probably deserved it.”
“Well…. Yeah, actually.” It was difficult for Dean to think of the Odin as even the same person who had showed up at the hotel so long ago, raving about Ragnarok. Dean considered things for a moment. “So. Did Metatron bring you back?”
“Yes. Yes she did, actually. She had given over the tablet to my predecessor, and then took off for wherever the hell she goes when she’s feeling footloose. But according to what they tell me, she showed up one day, a few years back, after the apocalypse nonsense was wrapped up, and then took it upon herself to call me back.”
“New and improved,” said Dean.
“I’m not exactly new, and the latter is up for debate,” laughed Odin.
“No, something a friend said to me once. And she used spells from the tablet?”
“Yes, although she occasionally has trouble reading her own handwriting after all this time. But there’s an essential trick to it, the summoning. You can’t create something from nothing. Nobody has that power, outside God himself.”
Dean thought about it. “So. You were a mortal before you were … you? Like Ruth?”
“Yes, exactly! I was a businessman. My family had money, I then made a lot more money pushing other money around. I ended up giving a good chunk of it away to charity.”
“I guess rich people think differently.”
“I think they do, son. I was also a member of my country’s Olympic equestrian team. That’s how Mets spotted me.”
“You were just some horsey rich dude?” laughed Dean.
“I was just some horsey rich dude,” grinned Odin.
“But you remember all of that? So it’s not like being a vessel?”
“No, I am definitely not an empty vessel. I’m still me. Substantially. But I gained all his powers. And his memories. I’m not saying it was easy: if I had any idea, pretty as she is, I might have told Mets to go fuck herself when she asked.”
Dean nodded.
“Then together, we brought back Kali’s son, and made Ruth the new Trickster when Bibi's pantheon asked for a favor.”
“And Baldur?” asked Dean.
“Baldur. He had a quality to him. A very special quality. I never met anyone who disliked him.”
Dean stopped to consider. “You didn't bring back Baldur yet because you're looking for the right dude.
“Well, that’s the key, Dean. Metatron has the tablet with the right mumbo jumbo, but the heart of it is to find the right person. We searched high and low to find Ganesha. I think we chose right.”
“And Ruth?”
Chuckling, Odin puffed out cigar smoke. “I think that one was literally born to be a Trickster.”
Dean was silent.
Odin turned to face Dean. “And as for Baldur-“
Dean stared. Odin’s hand was on his shoulder. “Odin-“
“I think I’ve finally found the right man.”
Dean had been acting uncharacteristically subdued when Cas got them all back to the motel. “So, Metatron swore up and down that the angels are gonna target the golf tournament,” Sam told them.
“Any special reason?” asked Dean, who was staring off into the distance.
“She just kept repeating, I know my brother, I know my brother.”
“I guess she does. They’ve both been around a million billion years, right?”
“Yeah.”
There was an uncomfortable silence.
“Well, I’m heading off to my room I guess,” said Sam. Dean grunted and, without any word, started to move towards the stairs.
“Good night, Sam,” said Cas, heading after Dean.
Sam was left in the parking lot, thinking that Cas almost never bothered to say goodbye.
Cas and Dean entered their own room in silence. “You are troubled this evening, Dean. More troubled than usual, anyway.”
“Did you know about this, Cas?” asked Dean, thunking down on one of the beds.
Cas sat down across from him. “Know about what, Dean?”
“Odin just offered me a job.”
“Yes?” Cas looked honestly puzzled.
“As the new Baldur.”
Cas’s jaw dropped and, as Dean watched, about twenty different emotions flickered across the usually impassive angel’s face. “What … did you say to him Dean?”
“Of course I turned him down. Flat.” Dean kicked off his shoes and scooted back to sit cross-legged on the bed.
“Oh.” Cas sat staring intently at the floor.
“But he told me I need to think about it for a couple weeks. You think I’m being an idiot, don't you?”
“No. Dean.” Cas held up his hands, but didn’t meet Dean’s eyes. “I haven’t- I don’t know. I didn’t know about this. Whatever you do, that’s fine. Of course.”
“You didn’t want me to be Michael’s vessel.”
Cas’s eyes went wide. “That would have destroyed you.”
“But you think it’s OK to play Kermit the Frog for a pagan god?”
Cas frowned. “We both witnessed Ruth going through the process. I don’t believe she is any kind of puppet.”
“Well, it turns out the new Odin was some Norwegian do-gooder before he got tapped.”
Cas was nodding. “He was human? Yes. That makes sense now. Only my Father can create anew.”
Dean was scowling at the angel. “And you think this all is great?”
“Dean. I have my own selfish reasons for wishing you to follow … a particular path. But it’s not for me to say.”
“Why not?”
“What?”
“Cas. You're my closest friend. The closest … I've ever been to anybody except Sammy. I need to hear you, man. You should say what you think. Remember? No bullshit.”
Cas cast his eyes down and held his sides. He whispered something.
Dean leaned forward to put his hands on Cas's knees. “Okay. What? Spit it out.”
“I…. I want you to do it.”
Dean swallowed hard. “All right, well. Okay. Look, do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Don't tell Sammy.”
Cas stared. “Dean. Why would you not want to tell your brother?”
“There's just.... I'm just.... There's a lot of stuff going on right now. I just need a couple days. There's a crazy archangel of death on the loose, and we gotta keep our head in the game.”
“So.... You haven't actually decided?”
Dean cringed at the hopeful look in Cas's eyes. “Cas. I know where you're coming from. But we have no idea if I'd be the same person afterwards.”
Cas nodded, wiping an eye. “Dean. It’s your decision. I just know that, after you … die, for the last time, your soul will likely journey to the one place where I am not welcome any more.”
Dean crossed over to sit next to Cas, draping an arm over his shoulders. “Look. We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure something out.”
“You said … no bullshit,” Cas told him.
“I did, didn’t I? Well you know something? I’m an idiot.”
“I know.”
Dean smiled.
“Dean, please promise me something. Before you decide, no matter what you decide, talk to your brother.”
“I-”
“Promise me, Dean.”
Dean leaned over to kiss Cas, but the angel gently pushed him back. “Stubborn seraph. Okay. When I find the right time, I'll talk to Sam.”
“What is the right time?”
“Some time when we're, you know, relaxed.”
Cas looked skeptical, but allowed Dean to kiss him this time.
“I don't understand, Dean. Why are we dressed like this?”
“Because this is golf, Cas,” said Dean, who turned to straighten up Cas's horrible golf sweater. “It's the only place where grown men can run around in purple and green plaid and get away with it.”
“I thought we were supposed to remain inconspicuous,” said Cas, eyeing his purple and green plaid pants.
“You'll fit right in,” grinned Dean, as Odin walked up. The Norse god's golf pants were grey and blue plaid, and his sweater had lines of huge red and blue diamonds running up and down. The golf course stretched out for miles, and it was a bright, sunny day, making their ridiculous clothes shine all the brighter. Birds sang, it all smelled like new-mown grass, and it was kind of awesome.
“Thanks for getting us in on this,” said Sam, who actually looked very spiffy in his golf togs. Dean would have thought that his brother had made some kind of deal with the devil, but he knew better.
“Thought it would benefit us to keep an eye on this from the inside.” Odin cast an eye around the course. It was early, and the crowds had just begun to arrive. “They'll be following the professionals around, and the real celebrities, so they're not likely to pay us much mind.”
“So you're still … you?” asked Dean. “I mean, human you? Like a secret identity?”
Odin laughed. “Yes, I guess you could say that. And I was a celebrity, though a very minor one.” Cas stood pulling at his ugly golf sweater. “Hadn't occurred to me that your angel hadn't played before though. Will you be able to fake it, Castiel?”
Cas furrowed his brow at Odin. “Playing a human game? It shouldn't be any problem,” he scoffed.
“I'll watch over him,” grinned Dean, clapping Cas's shoulder. “Keep him out of the rough.”
“We should be on the lookout for angels,” Cas retorted.
“I think we'll have enough eyes out for that,” said Odin, waving to some new arrivals.
“I can't believe they don't let women play on this course,” groused Ruth, who, in contrast to absolutely everyone else, was dressed in her usual black on black thrift shop clothes.
“Probably not in that outfit, it's too tasteful,” joked Odin.
“My darling dearest, can you even play golf?” asked Bibi, his arm around her shoulders.
“Well.... No.”
“Cas doesn't play either,” Dean volunteered, as Cas bristled. “We just dressed him up in pastels.”
“You are a novice, Castiel?” asked Yamaraja, who had just walked up with Hades. The Hindu hell god had once again donned his mortal look, and Hades had turned down the flame so he too looked almost human.
“I haven't played golf before,” Cas sulked.
“Then it should be my honor to partner with you!” said Yamaraja. “I so enjoy introducing new people to the links! It is one of my favorite pastimes.”
“You golf, Yama?” snorted Hades. “Wouldn't bowling be more suitable?”
“You must get out of your environment every so often, that's what I say,” Yamaraja told him.
Cas looked questioningly at Dean. “Yeah, sure, why don't you go with him,” said Dean.
“Will you and Sam be all right?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “I think we've sort of figured out how to take care of ourselves, yeah.”
“I'm so sorry, am I totally late?” asked Namtar, who came rushing up looking frantic. “Ninazu really wanted to come and see Cas and the guys and I had to convince him it would be boring and dangerous....”
Cas's face produced a short but sweet burst of a smile. “I will see Ninazu afterwards. We have many pages of his book yet to color.”
“Oh, yeah, hey, he'd appreciate that! He never stops talking about you.”
Dean elbowed Sam and whispered, “Have you ever seen that kid actually say a word?” Sam grinned and shrugged.
Odin raised his arms. “Now, Namtar, you come along with me and Sam and Dean, son. Our tee off time is approaching. The rest of you, keep a close watch.”
“And remember this ain't like fighting demons,” said Bibi.
“We are hopefully not fighting, as we are hopelessly overmatched,” said Odin. “Our priority is to get people to safety. Bamboozle them a bit, like Ruth.”
“I wanna play,” grumped Ruth.
“I'll let ya tee off when we're out of sight,” Bibi promised as they walked off.
“It's still capitulating to the patriarchy.”
As far as the game of golf went, Dean found he was rusty as hell, but he still managed to have a good time. Namtar, with some coaching, was not half bad, and Odin, of course, was a wonderful player, as was Sam, once he got warmed up.
“Why are you laughing?” Sam asked Dean as they walked in the warm sunshine.
“Oh, I was just thinking, this is your life, isn't it, Sammy? Spending Sunday wearing a ridiculous outfit, out chasing after a little white ball?”
Despite the lovely surroundings, Sam creased his brow. “Yeah, Dean, actually. I wouldn't mind this.”
Dean grinned wide. “Hey. Maybe, some day.”
“Really?”
“Don't be so skeptical.”
They walked down to the green, where Odin was talking Namtar through his putt.
“You have to figure in the lie of the grass as well. You saw what happened with my attempts!”
“You curse like a demon, Uncle Odin,” grinned Namtar, who was squatting down to line up his shot.
“Wonder how Cas is doing,” Dean whispered to Sam.
“He probably got annoyed and is just using his mojo.”
“He wouldn't do that!”
“Very good! Excellent!” said Odin as Namtar sank the putt.
“Oh, cool, you're one shot under for this one, Namtar,” Sam told him as he squinted at the score sheet. He walked over to the green to confer with Namtar.
“I rock!” yelled the boy.
Odin had drifted over to where Dean was standing on the edge of the green. “That one doesn't have much of a relationship with his stepfather. I think a boy needs a male role model. And I'm damned grateful you boys have shown an interest.”
“Well, yeah, I know about deadbeat dads,” Dean sighed. “By the way, Odin, that … thing we talked about the other day-”
“Now, I already told you, I'll take no answer, yes or no, for at least two weeks! I didn't know what I was jumping into. I hope you'll be able to think on it. Talk it over with your brother.”
“Sam doesn't know.”
Odin stared. “You didn't tell Sam?”
“Didn't tell me what?” asked Sam, who had just walked up, and who evidently hadn't had his ears totally ruined by years of listening to Dean's heavy metal tapes blasting through the car.
“Sam-” said Dean.
There was a flash of light. And then a scream. And they all ran charging as fast as they could up towards the sound, back towards the low rise where they had all teed off.
And there they were, a cluster of suit-clad douche bags standing in the middle of the course. A pro foursome was playing through, and they had collected quite a crowd. Some of the frightened spectators had already tried to run, only to be corralled by the angels. The rest watched, frozen in terror.
One of the taller male angels stepped up to speak. “The wages of sin is- Oh what the fuck?”
Because just then a sleek black dragon came screaming over the hill. It looked an awful lot like a Night Fury. It was soon joined by a Monstrous Nightmare and a Hideous Zippleback.
The crowd broke and ran as the angels were distracted by the terrifying monsters approaching from the sky. Several of them began making smiting gestures, to absolutely no effect, which appeared to confuse them.
“Namtar, you and Sam go help people to safety. Dean, with me,” ordered Odin, who drew his sword and took off running straight into the heart of the battle.
The lead angel cringed as the Night Fury dive-bombed him, spraying him with fire. He shook his head in confusion though when he realized he wasn't burned.
“It's a trick! Ignore them!” the angel boomed. He turned, and Hades threw a fireball at him. The angel shrieked as his clothes started to burn. “Shit!” the angel screamed. “That one's real!”
But then there was an angel blade sticking from his charred chest, and he sunk the ground, a hot white light glowing out of him, as Cas stood over him, holding a bloody angel sword.
Ruth rushed another angel, who kept trying to smite her to absolutely no effect. She kicked him in the neck, and then hopped away, shouting in pain. The angel was yanked back and stabbed with an angel sword by Bibi.
“That one!” Odin shouted to Dean, who ran around behind him. The angel found himself pinned to a tree with Odin's spear, and Dean made short work of him with his angel blade. But then another angle gestured at Dean and sent him flying. He landed on soft grass, and raised his head in time to see Cas crossing swords with his attacker.
“Cas! Look out!”
Cas managed to stab the woman he was fighting in time to turn around and get his sword up to face another attacker, who knocked Cas down. Yamaraja was behind, and got his saber into the guy, but unfortunately he didn't have an angel sword, so it only distracted his foe. The angel turned, drew out the blade, and gutted Yamaraja before Cas could leap to his feet.
Bibi, with a yell of, “Uncle, No!” ended up stabbing the angel with his angel sword. He then sunk to his knees beside Yamaraja, who was bleeding badly from his terrible wound..
Dean got up and, though still feeling shaky, ran towards the thick of the fighting.
“Stop!”
Dean halted, as did everyone else.
A female angel was standing in their midst. A male angel beside her was holding Namtar, angel blade at the boy's throat. Sam was standing nearby, looking panicked.
“Naomi!” shouted Cas. “Let him go. Now!'
“Castiel.” She seemed preternaturally calm. “We want the tablet. Give us the angel tablet.”
“We don't have the angel tablet,” Cas told her. “You should know that.”
“Then find it. Or he dies.”
“Just let him go,” Sam pleaded. “He's just a kid.”
“He's an abomination,” sneered Naomi. She turned to stare at Castiel again. “And so are you. You have fallen in every way possible, Castiel.”
Cas took a step forward, and she cringed. “If any harm comes to that boy, I will do everything in my power to see you fall farther. And harder.”
The angel guarding Namtar shrieked, holding up his hand, which the boy had just managed to bite right in the tender spot between the thumb and forefinger. The angel waved a hand at him.
“Namtar!” shouted Sam, who pushed the boy out of the way. He fell to the ground in a dead faint as the angel smote him instead of Namtar.
“Take him! Now!” shouted Naomi. The bleeding bitten angel gestured at Sam, and then he and Sam both disappeared to the sound of beating wings.
“The angel tablet!” yelled Naomi. “Or he dies.”
Dean didn't even think: he had his angel sword out and rushed Naomi. She sidestepped and then, before anyone could intervene, twisted her hand, and Dean fell, his own sword in his abdomen.
And then Naomi, and the remaining angels, disappeared with a rush of wings.
“Cas,” muttered Dean. He couldn't see very well, but he knew who was beside him, cradling his head. He reached up blindly and touched the angel's face. And then passed out.
Cas could feel Dean's heart beating more and more slowly. “He's been struck with an angel blade. I can't heal this.” He looked up at Odin, a plea in his eyes. “Odin. He's dying.”
The god knelt down silently beside him. “No one can heal angel blade wounds,” he whispered. “Not even if we get him to Mets in time.”
Cas's eyes were wet. An then he frowned, a look of determination crossing his face. “Odin. The transformation. Do it.”
“Son. You know there’s no taking it back,” said Odin.
“Do it! Now!”
Odin swallowed hard. “Get him up. On his feet. It may already be too late.”
Beginning to panic now, Cas pulled Dean’s arm over his shoulder, yanking the dying hunter up to slump beside him. Hades went over and held Dean from the other side.
“Get me a sword!” ordered Odin. Bibi, who was teary-eyed, handed over Yamaraja's blood-stained saber. Odin raised it heavenward. Thunder cracked. And then he brought the flat side down on one of Dean’s shoulders, and then the other, as if he was knighting him. Then, chanting in Enochian, Odin touched the flat of the blade to his own forehead, and then gently brought the tip down so it was aimed directly at Dean’s heart.
It was like an electrical current. Cas squeezed his eyes shut, blinded by the power. Dean had begun to move on his own, his body suddenly stiff, arched back.
Dean threw back his head and screamed.
