Seven Hells, Part 16 of 16
Feb. 7th, 2013 03:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: Seven Hells, Part 16 of 16
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 gallop off into an AU and never return. Also, this chapter makes mention of a very silly and improbable version of mpreg. You should be fine if you’ve sat through mythology class, but be warned.
Word Count: 100,000 (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: Hey, you made it to the last chapter. Congrats. You owe yourself a cookie. (And get one for me.)
“It’s not much, but it’s home,” said Bibi.
Sam looked around. His own hell memories had dimmed, but this looked nothing like what he remembered. Is seemed very … clean. “You live in the underworld now, Bibi?”
“Naraka. Yeah. Oh, that’s right. You’ve been away, haven’t you, mate?”
“Uh, yeah, playing chess with an eccentric archangel.” Sam walked alongside Bibi. This place reminded him more than a little of the zoo. Only with abominations instead of giraffes. They passed enclosures containing a creature with luminous wings, and a sinuous multi-headed viper. There was the scent of fire and brimstone mixed with manure, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
“My uncle, Yamaraja, has passed on to the next plane of existence.”
It took Sam a beat. “Oh, I’m sorry man! I really liked that guy.”
“Thanks. Well, he died heroic like, so he should have a good journey. Anyway, he tapped me to run the place. By the way, you’re not squeamish about snakes, are you? This creature, she’s fairly serpentine.”
“Naw. I’m good. As long as you don’t have any clowns.”
Bibi grimaced. “Yeah, I hate those things. Who thinks they’re jolly, right?”
Sam regarded the dark man walking alongside him. Unlike nearly everyone else on the planet, Bibi was nearly as tall as Sam. “So, you and Ruth are getting married, right? Is she good with all this?”
“Oh, she’s glorying in it! She’ll make a right queen of hell. All right, here we are, Creepy Crawly Central.”
Sam stepped back. “Holy shit. Is that what I think it is?”
Bibi looked like a proud parent. “Yeah, Chinese style.”
“Whoa!” The beast uncoiled its great neck to nose at Sam, and he reached out and rubbed the scaly snout. It emitted a rumble, as if it were purring. “I think it likes me!”
Bibi grinned. His teeth were white. He wagged a finger at Sam. “Now, your brother made me swear up and down to tuck you away some place nice and safe once we’d plucked you out of Azrael’s clutches.”
“Oh. Bibi. Dude!” said Sam, making his very best puppy dog eyes.
Dean, digging for one of those goddamned tablets down inside a great crack in the ground somewhere in the middle of Kansas, cringed and fell on his shovel as two angels clashed almost directly overhead. They struggled for a while, and then finally moved away. With a sigh he asked, “We okay, Tad dude?” Dean frowned. “All right, I'm talking to a bee.” The bee on his shoulder buzzed, so he decided it was probably good to go on digging for the tablet.
And then there was another screech, angel versus angel, and he had to hit the dirt once again.
Dean righted himself, shaking off the soil, highly annoyed. “You know, Tad, I'm a god now, right? Shouldn't I be able to you know, use my godlike powers to magic up the tablet?”
The buzz this time sounded affirmative. Hey, maybe Cas wasn’t the only one who could talk to the animals, just imagine it? So, questioning his own mental health, Dean carefully laid down his shovel and concentrated on the loose earth below him. “Ummm. Accio tablet?” he tried. To his great shock, the ground underneath him began to vibrate. He looked at the bee, and then raised his hand towards the ground, the same way he’d seen Cas or Sam do when they did their magical incantation shit. And then he concentrated very, very hard. Yes, it was right below him. He could…. Well, he could feel it. Very weird. And cool. He stretched out his hand, the ground trembled again.
And then there was a crack.
The tablet popped up like a toaster pastry. Unthinkingly, Dean rushed to get underneath, disregarding that the thing must weigh considerably more than a softball. He caught it, right in the middle of the glove. If he’d been wearing a glove.
“Jackpot!” he told his bee friend. “I’m Luke Fucking Skywalker. Uh. Or maybe Harry Potter? And also part Willie Mays, which is cool. OK, cut the chatter, Tad, we gotta get this to Cas.”
“This isn't the word of God! This is a fake!” declared the vampire Gary Oldman/Azrael the archangel, taking a very deliberate sniff of the tablet. While his company of angels had been kept very busy (and often screaming) playing a game of “Spot the Real Leviathan” against Crowley and Ruth, Azrael had gotten his hands on the tablet Meg had given over and used his archangel mojo to painstakingly assemble it back together.
Unfortunately, it soon became apparent that there were very few of Crowley’s real Leviathan amongst Ruth’s illusions. Once the angels had figured that out, the battle had quickly turned against Ruth and the demons.
“We tried to make it funny,” complained Ruth as Azrael furiously re-smashed the tablet bits on the ground, creating yet more bits. She had shrunk back down to normal size from her seraphic form, which had been an illusion, and she, Meg and Crowley were now standing in the middle of a crowd of Azrael's angels, all of whom wore ugly expressions. “It was hilarious! You didn’t even read it!”
“No sense of humor, that one,” said Crowley, puffing on his sparkling pinwheel. He flourished it, and with a flash it morphed into an angel sword. “You ready, Elvira?” he asked Meg, who was suddenly holding her own angel sword.
“Ready to stab a bunch of motherfucking angels? Sure, Lucky Charms,” she grinned.
Ruth now held two swords. “Listen up Azrael. That tablet belongs to humanity. Yield. Or die.”
“You three think you are going to fight my legions!” huffed Azrael.
“They never listen,” sighed Ruth. “I said, ‘Yield or die.’ You heard me.”
“No, they never do listen,” said Bibi, who was suddenly standing in back of her.
“What is the meaning of this?” asked Azrael, who probably regretted his words as soon as they were out of his mouth.
“Hey, everybody! Did you miss me?” yelled Sam, who had just suddenly popped up at the edge of the field.
“Sam? Where did you come from?” asked Azrael.
“I hopped a ride from one of Bibi's friends.” Sam stepped aside.
There was a dragon behind him.
A real one. Chinese style. It uncoiled its scaly neck. And hissed.
And spat fire, scorching several of Azrael’s angels, who ran screaming in pain.
“Oh, fuck me,” said Azrael.
“Got it!” said Dean. He proudly handed the still muddy tablet over to Cas. “You’ll never guess how I got it out!”
“We’ve got to get this out of here,” said Cas. His trench coat was badly bloodstained, though whose blood wasn’t clear. His vessel had definitely sustained several wounds.
“Then let’s get going, like we planned,” said Dean, grabbing his angel by the arm.
“I can’t abandon my forces now. We’ve incurred heavy losses. I’ll get Inias to take you.”
“I’m not going anywhere while you’re still here.” Thaddeus the bee buzzed sympathetically around Dean’s shoulder.
“Dean! This is really an inopportune time for you to express your characteristic stubbornness.”
“Right back at you, angel boy.”
Dean and Cas glared at each other for a long moment, before they were interrupted by the sound of a horn blaring in the distance. They both broke eye-lock to turn to look northward. A great company of riders had appeared out of nowhere, led by a man with reddish hair and a neatly trimmed red beard, astride a monstrous eight-legged horse. Two huge wolves prowled at his feet. Hel rode beside him, and the combined armies of Valhalla and the netherworld were arrayed behind them.
“Yippie-ki-yay, motherfuckers!” shouted Odin. And to emphasize his point, he let fly his spear, which caught a rather large seraph and pinned him to a tree. Shouting and howling, the cavalry charged the angels. As Cas and Dean watched, astounded, Azrael’s legions broke before the thundering onslaught.
“Boy, I bet Salina has never had so much fun,” said Dean. Cas sighed and appeared to wipe a tear.
“Is it possible?” asked Inias, who had just appeared at Cas’s side.
“I thought you angel guys were the miracle people,” said Dean. “Well, here you go.”
“Inias, we have the tablet. Take charge here. Help Odin. I’m going to take Dean and deliver the tablet to Azrael.”
Inias gripped Cas’s shoulder. “Please take care, brother.” Dean realized he and Cas were leaving to go confront an archangelic battle to the death. Not for the first time that day, he questioned his own sanity.
Cas nodded at his friend. “You do the same, Inias. Dean, are you ready?”
“Castiel! Wait!” shouted Inias. Two of Cas’s angels had struggled out of the melee. They held between them a woman wearing a suit. A prisoner, Dean thought.
“She begged to be taken before you,” said the male angel who had been holding her.
“Naomi,” sighed Cas. “I really don’t have time for your bullshit right now.”
“This is that Naomi chick?” growled Dean, who found his mind drifting to creative ways of flaying her alive.
“Castiel! Please!” Naomi had fallen to her knees in front of him. “They say you have news of Samandriel.”
Cas glared down at her. “Crowley was holding him. He was tortured. He…. He is hovering between life and death even now.”
She stared up, her eyes wide. “No. Tell me it’s not so.”
“I’m sorry, Naomi. Samandriel is under my protection now.”
“So Alfie. Or Samandriel. He was your friend?” asked Dean suspiciously.
Naomi was breathing hard. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I turned him in. I had to do it. He was loyal to you. He was a traitor.” Suddenly, she sprang up and jumped at one of her guards, wrestling away his angel sword. She scrambled in the mud, a few feet away, where she pointed the sword at herself, harakiri style. “I did this.”
She went sprawling when Cas, quick as a flash, stepped over and landed a roundhouse punch on her jaw. He grabbed the sword, and then yanked Naomi up by the collar, so she was face to face with him.
“No more death,” he growled. He tossed her back down and ordered the guards, “Keep a watch on her. I’ll decide what to do with her when we get back. Dean?”
“Tad is coming too,” said Dean, indicating the bee still buzzing at his shoulder. “He’s my dude.”
Cas looked distractedly at Dean, and then, flashing a very small smile, put two fingers on Dean’s forehead.
“Are you sure you have your notebook, Kevin?”
“Mom,” whined Kevin. “For the last time-“
“You guys might wanna keep it down,” urged Namtar, who grasped his little brother’s hand tightly as he and the Trans threaded down through the dusty streets of Irkalla. “My stepdad’s got eyes everywhere.”
“Doesn’t look like there’s much here, dude,” Kevin remarked.
“There’s no dogs,” sulked Namtar.
“Dogs are cool,” agreed Kevin.
“Uncle Odin has some great dogs! Well, I mean, technically, they’re wolves, but they’re really cool.”
“Oh, so he’s Uncle Odin now?” laughed Nergal, who had just appeared in front of the small party.
Namtar swallowed hard. He didn’t need to look around to know several of his stepfather’s guards had now probably got them surrounded. “I gotta go, Nergal. I’m late for my violin recital.”
“Are you? Then, where is your violin case?” chuckled Nergal. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you, boy? But actually, I’m really smart! So now, hand over that tablet, and we can end this peacefully.
“Back off, Nergal,” hissed Namtar, who flourished his dark wings in a threatening manner. Little Ninazu beside him flapped his small wings as well.
Nergal actually backed down a step, seeming, for once, uncertain. But then he frowned and steeled himself. “Give me that tablet!” he snarled, lunging for Kevin. But he howled in pain as his jaw was met by Mrs. Tran’s fist.
“Keep away from my boy,” Mrs. Tran lectured him as Nergal sprawled on the ground, rubbing his broken jaw. Linda gasped as she was suddenly grasped by the shirt and wrenched upwards.
Namtar had grabbed both Kevin and Mrs. Tran and, though they made a clumsy assemblage, was flying them towards the city gates. “Ninazu!” Namtar yelled back, and then, gasping with the exertion, he lumbered towards the city wall, where he unceremoniously dumped the Trans to the ground, red-faced, huffing and puffing.
“Whoa, that was cool!” enthused Kevin, who bounced to his feet. “I didn’t realize those wings actually worked!”
“What the hell did you think they were for,” huffed Namtar.
“I dunno. Maybe as a dust mop?”
“Where is Ninazu?” asked Linda, scanning around for him.
“No worries, here he comes now!” said Namtar, pointing towards the funny moth-like object now fluttering towards them. Ninazu dive-bombed and ended up in his brother’s arms. “He just stopped a minute to cure everybody’s deep-seated anger issues. My stepdad is gonna have a hard time rallying his guards.”
“Wait, what is that?” asked Kevin as a very strange-looking man rushed up to them. The dude looked like he was decked out in an entire Goodwill shop’s bounty, from the purple cowboy hat on top of his head, the fringed jacket he wore over a lady’s evening gown over bloomers, and flip-flops somehow jammed underneath his boots.
“I need an article of clothing from each of you! Them’s the rules.”
“Back off, or I’ll give you dysentery again,” warned Namtar, flapping his wings.
“No, don’t do that!” the raggedy man pleaded. He rubbed his belly. “I still have tummy troubles from the last time.”
“Oh, and make sure my stepfather doesn’t get out. Not until we come back for him,” Namtar told him.
“Yes, Prince Namtar. Anything you say.”
“Also, Ninazu wants your hat!” In truth, the little god had been hopping up and down, gesturing for the gate guard’s knit cap. With great reluctance, the gate guard took it off and handed it over to Namtar, who stuck it on a giddy Ninazu’s head.
“Okay,” said Namtar, “now everybody lean close, I gotta zap us all out of here.”
“Azrael! Stop!”
Dean put a finger in his ear and wiggled it around. He stood in the middle of the desert near Barstow, clutching the tablet, while around him angels battled every size and shape of hell monsters. As they had planned, Bibi had unleashed Naraka for this. There were even some creatures Dean could have sworn were dragons. Not Ruth’s Broadway musical-influenced illusions. Real goddamn dragons.
And on top of the sensory overload, now he was absolutely certain he had just heard – actually heard – the sound of Cas’s true voice.
And then Cas was beside him, in human form.
“Dude. When you angel up? I think I can hear you now,” Dean told him.
Cas looked intrigued. “Really? I wonder if you can see me.”
“Don’t really wanna go eye melt, but, yeah.”
“Azrael, we have the tablet!” Cas yelled.
“I'll take that,” said Azrael, who was suddenly, in the middle of the smoke and fury, standing before them.
“Azrael? Is Gary Oldman?” Dean whispered to Cas.
“Your brother chose this vessel, Dean Winchester,” sighed Azrael. They all ducked as overhead, a sinuous winged dragon chased after an angel.
“Holy shit,” muttered Dean, staring up at the guy riding the dragon. “Is that Sammy?”
“Now give me the tablet!” shouted Azrael. With a flick of his fingers, the tablet was wrenched from Dean’s hands and sailed over to Azrael. He stared at the tablet, and gave it a sniff. And then he licked it.
“Ewww, angel germs,” said Dean.
“This tablet it truly the Word of the Lord,” said Azrael.
“You can’t read that, Azrael,” Cas told him. “It’s not meant for you. It’s meant for humanity.”
“You must give over Metatron to translate it for me. I know she’s in hiding.”
“Azrael, be reasonable,” said Cas.
“Reasonable isn't in the archangel playbook,” Dean whispered to him.
“Brother, Odin is routing your forces in Kansas. You won’t last long here against the combined forces of the underworld.”
Azrael glowered. “Give her over, Castiel, or I will smite you and everyone you know!”
“Cas, dude,” said Dean. “You heard Vampire Diaries over here. I really don’t wanna see you go all chunky soup again.”
“If you insist, Azrael,” sighed Cas. “Metatron?”
There was a flash, like ball lightning striking nearby. And Metatron stood on the edge of the cul-de-sac.
“Whoa, she knows how to make an entrance,” commented Dean, as the hairs on the back of his arms stood up. The crazy battle of demons versus angels waging overhead and all around them suddenly seemed very far away. Despite the acrid smell of smoke, the roar of flying demonic monsters and the clash of weaponry, only Azrael and Metatron registered. They both radiated raw pure power, like a couple of small nuclear infernos.
Metatron’s footsteps echoed through the desert. “I wasn’t hiding, brother,” she said. She took off her sunglasses and waved them at him. “By the way, that is a highly attractive vessel.”
“Why do women always like these ugly guys with long hair?” Dean asked Cas. “He's just an ugly guy with long hair.”
“I think you are more attractive, Dean,” said Cas.
“Thanks, Cas.”
“This was Sam Winchester's doing,” grumbled an obviously frustrated Azrael.
Metatron huffed. “Ah, I didn't think you had the taste. Now, will you cut out the temper tantrum? And stop this fighting! Or do you need a time out?”
“I sensed you had returned, Metatron,” said Azrael. “Now you will pay for your perfidy.”
Metatron studied her fingernails. “Perfidy? Oh, come on Azzy, Father is omniscient. Who says it wasn't his plan that I took off with a tablet?”
Azrael flushed scarlet. “Do not call me that! You will read this tablet to me, or I will slay your friends. All of them.”
“Quit trying to impress me,” sighed Metatron. “You’re not Death. You'll never be Death. No matter how many tablets you steal. And you know why?” Despite being in a shorter vessel, she stared down at him. “Because Death has class.”
“You were always a know-it-all.”
“You were always a spoiled brat!”
“This is what the end of the world comes down to?” Dean whispered to Cas.
“My family. What can I say,” moaned Cas, who was blushing deeply.
“I will end you.” Azrael was thundering. “And I will end everybody.”
“And then reign over … what exactly?” Dean interjected.
“Dean is right,” said Metatron. “You can't create. Only our Father can do that. You can only kill, Azzy.”
“Do. Not. Call. Me. That,” shrieked Azrael. And with a rush of wind, the archangel morphed into a fireball, rising up a good twenty feet in the air as he did so.
“He never cared for that nickname,” Metatron told them.
“OK,” said Dean. “Human Torch archangel, not good.”
“Do I have to come up there?” yelled Metatron, who herself turned into a knot of electricity and charged up to meet her brother.
“This is so not good,” Dean told Cas.
“No, Dean. It isn’t.” Cas lurched to cover Dean, and Dean felt himself zapped a good 100 yards away just as Azrael sent a column of white hot fire towards Metatron. She countered with an electrical zap, and the resulting conflagration melted the spot underneath the two battling angels, where Cas and Dean had just been standing. The ground trembled, sending a shock wave that nearly knocked them from their feet.
“I'm so sorry I'm late!” piped up Namtar, who had just turned up, along with Kevin and Mrs. Tran. “I couldn't find a sitter for Ninazu.” He was holding on to his little brother, who scrambled out of his arms to come stand by Cas.
“That’s a very nice hat, Ninazu,” Cas complimented the small boy.
“Now, don't apologize, Namtar. It's nice to see a well-behaved boy,” said Mrs. Tran.
“Mom! Just fuck off,” sighed Kevin, who was holding a large bowl.
“Language, Kevin!”
Everyone was distracted from the chatter as Azrael whipped out another trail of flame at Metatron, who countered with a bolt of lightning. Thunder cracked. A great fissure appeared in the ground underneath them.
“Guys! You have the stuff?” asked Dean. “It’s archangel cage match time. We need this like yesterday!”
“Everything but the mermaid tears,” said Mrs. Tran. She tutted. “Garth was gonna bring them. So untrustworthy.”
“Got 'em!” yelled Bibi, who had just popped up holding Benny and Garth by their collars. Both of the latter were utterly dripping wet.
“Uh,” said Garth. “We're awfully sorry, but there was this … incident, where Benny made a bet with a mermaid.”
“Can't trust those gals for a second,” chuckled Benny. “Though they are cute.”
Thunder crashed again overhead as the archangels skirmished. The ground trembled. “Did you get the mermaid's tears?” Dean shouted.
Garth winked at Mrs. Tran and held up a small flask.
Kevin grabbed the flask from Garth and knelt down, setting the bowl he was carrying on the ground. He then pulled out yet another stone tablet. “You're sure this is the right tablet?” asked Dean, hunkering down next to him.
“Of course! This is the angel tablet,” said Mrs. Tran. “My son says so.”
“He has a tablet?” asked Cas.
“Can't you see it?” Dean asked him.
Cas squatted down next to Dean reached out a hand, blindly grasping towards the object. “I am blind to it.”
“Wow. You think your Dad did this?”
Cas smiled bitterly. “Knowing my brothers and sisters, it was probably a good move.”
“Castiel, you need to get out of here,” said Kevin, picking up the flask. “Now.”
Cas nodded and stood up.
“And...” Kevin started. “Can you get my mom away too? I mean, a safe distance?” He looked anxious.
“Don't worry,” said Cas, smiling down at him. “Dean?”
“I'll stay.”
“And I'm stayin' too,” said Benny. “Don't wanna miss this.”
Cas picked up Ninazu. “Come. We have many books to color,” he told the child. And then he went to put two fingers to Mrs. Tran's forehead.
“I'm not sure-” Mrs. Tran. began.
“I'm staying here, Linda,” Garth promised. “I'll watch over Kevin.”
Mrs. Tran nodded, looking uncharacteristically fearful, but, before she could raise any more objections, blinked out to the sound of wingbeats.
Everyone cringed as the ground shook. The great crack in the ground widened as the archangels battled overhead. Dean grabbed the bowl to keep it from spilling over.
“Now or never, boy,” said Benny.
Kevin gulped. He carefully placed the tablet down on the ground, and, staring down at it, began to recite some words, at the same time dribbling the mermaid's tears into the bowl.
There was a pause. And then everybody cringed as a huge flash of light emitted from the bowl. There were ear-piercing screams, and Metatron and Azrael both fell out of the sky. The other angels, every single one of them, collapsed, moaning. There went up a call among the demon army, and all fighting ceased.
The desert, at last, was in silence.
“Worked,” grinned Dean. “Now you go,” he told Kevin.
“What, me?” asked Kevin.
“This is your deal, kiddo,” Garth told him.
Kevin swallowed hard, and then gathered up the tablet and stood. “Listen up, angels! I am the prophet, Kevin.”
Metatron had made it to her feet and stood, brushing off her posterior. Azrael leapt to his feet, his sunglasses askew. “You will pay for this, Prophet Kevin!” he shouted, and then raised his hand as if to smite Kevin, who cringed. But nothing happened. Azrael stared at his hand.
“Like I said, listen up!” yelled Kevin, as more of the low ranked angels struggled to their feet. “This tablet I'm holding is the word of God. I just used a spell from here to de-power you all for 24 hours. But believe me, there is much worse on this thing. Much worse!”
“Lies! He's not holding anything,” said Azrael.
Dean grabbed the tablet from Kevin and held it up. He took it and smacked Azrael in the head with it, and then gave it back to Kevin as the archangel sank to his knees, rubbing his head. “He's got a tablet, your Father just fixed it so you guys can't see it. Dumbass.”
“Ow!” said Azrael.
“Idiot,” sniffed Metatron.
“You said this will wear off,” said Azrael. “What if we steal your tablet after I regain my power?”
“You'd have to steal the internet, Azrael,” said Cas, who had just reappeared. “We have just posted several of the anti-angel spells on the World Wide Web.”
“I knew it was a good idea to teach you how to use that laptop,” Dean told him.
“Ninazu helped,” Cas conceded. “Linda has decided he is a good candidate for medical school.”
Azrael was standing in front of Cas. “Castiel. You have given away our secrets? To the humans? You are a traitor to your race.”
“No. We are in service to humans. As we always should have been.”
Azrael let out a cry as Metatron suddenly yanked him back. Evidently, even de-powered, she was still incredibly strong. “And stay away from my little brother,” she warned. “Or you’re gonna get a smiting like you’ve never gotten before.”
“You won't stop me until you kill me,” Azrael warned.
“There has been enough killing, enough death,” Cas told him.
“I will call my legions!”
“You'll have to find them first,” warned Odin, who had just come thundering up on a monstrous eight-legged horse. “We just scattered them to the four winds.”
“This isn't the end,” Azrael warned.
“Dude, I think it is,” said Dean.
“Heads up!” yelled Benny. Dean grabbed Cas as Benny slammed his hand down on a blood sigil he'd just been drawing. Suddenly all the angels, with the exception of Cas and Metatron, vanished in a flash of light.
“You OK, Mets?” asked Odin, leaping down from his horse.
“I'll be damned. It worked,” said Metatron, regarding the new tattoo on the inside of her wrist. “And it's quite stylish.”
“Your anti-banishing tatt worked too?” Dean asked Cas, not releasing him from the embrace.
Cas smiled, now nearly nose to nose with Dean. “Yes, this was unneeded. But not unwelcome.”
“Oh, just get it over with,” said Meg. She and Crowley were now standing nearby, Crowley playing with a colorful pinwheel.
Dean glowered at Meg, but then kissed Cas anyway.
“Well, ain't that cute,” said Benny.
Crowley made to plant a kiss on Meg, who instead turned his pinwheel to ash. “Dammit!” he groused. “Do I get to kiss the angel at least?”
“No,” chorused both Dean and Cas.
“Where did you banish all the angels to, Benny?” asked Kevin.
“A little ol’ swamp in Louisiana,” said Benny. “They'll make friends. It's crawlin' with gators.”
“Dammit, dude, we won! Quit going all static-y.”
Cas smiled mildly at Dean as they walked through what had been a battlefield only hours before. It was still a hub of activity. Beings who weren't helping clean up were busy casting spells and enchantments to keep human eyes far away.
“It's true, I am nervous about this tribunal.”
“It's still pretty soon after the war to be doing that kind of shit?” asked Dean. “I mean, unless there are gonna be beheadings. In which case, I approve, especially if it involves Crowley.”
Cas halted, gazing affectionately at Dean. “The battle is over, but now we must maintain the peace. Inias has made a study of the American Civil War and found-”
“Have you noticed that Inias is kind of a geek. Even for an angel.”
Cas's smile ripened into something absolutely angelic. “The best of us are quite inordinately fond of humans and their history,” he said. Dean leaned in, thinking maybe this called for another great battlefield kiss, but Cas, frustratingly, turned away. “Oh, here we are.”
Dean turned in the direction Cas was pointing, annoyed, but then he immediately set off in a run. “Sammy!” he shouted. He engulfed his little brother in a hug.
“Dean! Look! I have a dragon!” said Sam, excitedly waving at the scaly beast beside him.
“Uh, yeah, I kind of noticed,” said Dean as the beast uncoiled its neck and flapped its great scaly wings.
“It’s a real dragon, Dean!”
“I hope you’re not gonna say you wanna keep him?” sighed Dean. He looked at his shoulder. “Hey, I got a bee?” Thaddeus buzzed proudly. “This is Tad.”
“I thought worker bees were female,” said Sam, squinting at the little bee.
Dean and the bee glared at Sam. “Don’t be small -minded, Sam,” said Dean. He squinted at his brother. “Are you okay, Sammy?”
“I got to ride a dragon, Dean,” said Sam, who suddenly sagged down to sit on the low fence that surrounded the housing development. “And before I was caught in a dream where you and Cas were dead, and then I had to play chess and drink really bad hot chocolate with a crazy archangel.”
Dean sat down next to his brother. “Yeah, you were being reckless with your queen.”
Sam stared for a moment. “Yeah. How did you know? Anyway. Dean. Can we get back to normal stuff now like ganking werewolves? Because I think I’ve had enough.”
Dean threw an affectionate arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Whatever you want, Sammy.”
Sam looked Dean up and down. “So what’s going on with you? Cas hinted at something but wouldn’t tell me.”
Dean looked around. “Oh. Huh. Where is Cas, anyway?”
“He went off somewhere. What's going on?”
Dean stared down at the ground. “Yeah, it’s kind of a funny story….”
“Hey, Dean! Sam!” yelled Ruth as she and Metatron strolled up.
“How you feeling?” Sam asked the archangel.
“Splendid! I find being de-powered is king of … liberating.”
“You seen Cas, Mets?” asked Dean.
“Over at the tribunal,” said Metatron, pointing towards the house.
Dean looked her up and down. “That’s started already? You not there too?”
“No interest,” she told him, reaching over to scratch the dragon's inquisitive snout.
“The dragon likes me!” Sam told Ruth. “Can I keep her?”
Ruth patted the dragon. “You boys have a back yard big enough?” she smiled.
“Uh. Maybe not.”
Dean squinted at Sam. “I think I got a new rule, Sammy. No dragons riding baby.”
“What if we take her back home to Naraka, and you guys visit whenever you like?” asked Ruth.
“That would be great!” said Sam.
“Now we're agreeing to go to hell?” asked Dean, mulling it over.
“We can have you over, and Bibi and Kevin can jam some more. Maybe after the wedding.” Ruth turned to Sam and Dean. “You guys are still coming to our wedding, right?”
Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. “Is the dragon invited?” asked Sam.
“Can you take him, Hun Came?” asked Odin, taking a good pull of his beer. He sat the bottle down on the dining room table and sat back, wiping his mouth. “These microbrews, they're not bad,” he commented to Hades, who was beside him, nodding and turning up the flame that danced around his head.
The Mayan Lord of Xibalba glanced at the cowering Nergal, considering. “Hrm. The Room of Knives perhaps? We do need someone to assess their sharpness.”
“You can't do this to me!” wailed Nergal. He held up his hands. “I have terrible cuticles!”
“We can. And we will,” rasped Hel.
“You're a lying sack of shit!” said Namtar, for which Hades whacked him on the back of the head, muttering, “Language.”
Cas nodded and made a gesture, and some attendants bore away a still protesting Nergal.
“Can I have a beer, Uncle Odin?” asked Namter.
“No,” smiled the god. “Maybe just one. Later. Who's next?”
“Crowley,” said Inias, reading from a tablet.
“You'll let me handle this one?” asked Cas. The rest of the parties at the table - Odin, Hel, Hades, Hun Came, Inias, Namtar and Bibi - all nodded in agreement.
A pair of angels escorted a very annoyed Crowley in front of the table. Meg wandered in after him, and settled herself down in an easy chair by the wall.
“Look, what's the meaning of this? I helped you!” Crowley protested.
“We are grateful for your service, Crowley,” Cas told him. “But I'm afraid we need to decide what's best for you now that you're out of a job.”
“WHAT?”
Cas indicated the angel sitting beside him. “Inias will serve as the new Regent of Hell-“
“I’ll actually serve as temporary co-chairman of the Central Coordinating Committee, in a rotating term!” Inias supplied.
“Uh, thanks Inias,” said Cas, waving him off. “Um. Anyway. It's a tradition for rebellious angels. They need a new homeland, and I think they can effect some improvements. And with things up in the air, we need someone in there we can, well, trust.”
“I have made a detailed study of the pagan underworlds,” Inias piped up, “and I think that-”
“Oh, shut it, Nathan Sykes,” grumbled Crowley.
Inias looked at Cas, who shrugged.
“He's in The Wanted. It's a boy band,” Meg piped up.
“Thank you, Meg.”
“Were you in on this, Vampira?” Crowley demanded of Meg.
Meg stretched out, cat-like, in the chair. “I said I might stick around. To help Justin Bieber over there.”
“Why can't they just use my name?” Inias wondered.
“Because I think she totally likes you, Inias!” said Namtar, which made Crowley chortle and Meg maybe sort of blush.
“Can we get back on track?” said Odin, holding up a now empty beer bottle. “I need to get out of here and get to the serious drinking.”
“I had another idea regarding your future role, Crowley,” said Cas. He sat forward, hands clasped. “You need work exercising that new conscience of yours. But no matter how much you change you will still be … you.”
“Can I have a drink too?” asked Crowley.
“No. But I was thinking, there is a place that might benefit from your unique … skill set. A place that has been plagued for untold years by a corrupt and craven bureaucracy. A place that, three times in recent memory, has hatched plots that would result in the diminution or even cessation of life on earth-”
“Holy crap! YOU WANT ME TO TAKE ON HEAVEN?” howled Crowley.
“That's the plan,” said Odin, chucking his beer bottle into a recycling bin.
“Think about it, Crowley,” said Hades. “You, in charge of heaven's host.”
The wheels in Crowley's mind had begun to turn. “Little old black-hearted me? Bossing around angels?”
“They need to be brought to heel,” stated Inias.
“Will you do it, demon?” rasped Hel.
Crowley grinned a grin, staring at Cas. “Well. That depends.” He arched an eyebrow. “Are we gonna seal the deal with a kiss?”
Crowley gasped to suddenly find himself in a passionate clench – with Hades, who had more or less teleported beside him. What followed, to the mixed wonder and amusement of those assembled, included much tongue. As well as bright blue flame. And then it was over, and Hades was back sitting behind the dining room table, casually examining his fingernails, and Crowley was on the floor, his hair still smoking. Crowley slowly propped himself up on his elbows to stare at the lord of the Greek underworld.
“Contracts,” said Hades. “They're a good thing.” He winked at Crowley.
Sam leaned back in his chair and tried to remember how long he had been there, in Asgard, drinking.
It had been a long, long, long time.
They – he and Dean – were sitting at a table outside the hall of Valhalla, which was bedecked for a celebration. Some of the trimmings looked Norse, others more east Asian, and there were still more that could have been purchased at Walmart in the Midwest.
The guests were a similar crazy quilt: a surfeit of gods and demons, a heaping of departed spirits, a sprinkling of angels, and even a few humans, like him and Dean. Although Sam was no longer certain about his brother and the whole “human” thing. Which had been the impetus for much of the alcohol consumption.
The monks who had trained Ruth were there, although Sam had not spoken to them, as they all seemed glued to their Bluetooth devices. Isaiah sat glumly at their table, though he occasionally raised his head and tried to flirt with a passing girl or goddess.
Bibi’s side of the family was a riot, all silk saris and fiery eyes and blue skin and many, many jutting arms. Sam had been introduced to several, some of whom seemed familiar from mythology classes or the Ramayana or the various Bollywood flicks he’d seen back in college. They spent a lot of time on the dance floor, all of them.
Kevin had performed alongside Namtar (who played violin) in a string quartet, and it was difficult to determine whose mother was prouder, although both boys had seemed more eager to throw off their jackets and play fetch with Odin’s wolves. Kevin, for the first time in Sam’s memory seemed really young, which made Sam feel somehow old.
A high point of the afternoon had been when a pale but still very alive Samandriel was briefly wheeled out to join the festivities: an event that caused more of a commotion than the reception line. But Sam had paid more attention to Alfie’s attendant. Cas claimed she had been stripped of all her angelic powers in penance, but Sam still thought Naomi looked pretty damned evil. Angels, oddly enough, seemed more forgiving of her. He nearly didn’t recognize Inias, newly appointed King of Hell (or committee chairman, or whatever the hell he had explained) dressed up once again in a suit.
The happy couple had chosen some old Fleetwood Mac song as their first dance. Dean had been dreading this moment, as he claimed Bibi had a taste for terrible music, but in the end approved, probably because he had always had a crush on Stevie Nicks. Ruth and Bibi were evidently both people who really danced, and didn’t just sort of hug and shuffle their feet, like you do. To Dean’s annoyance, Meg had then oozed over to their table to ask Cas for a dance, which Cas, to Dean’s further ire, had shyly accepted. Dean’s temper was not improved some minutes later when Crowley (who had spent the afternoon avoiding a fully recharged Metatron as best he could) cut in, in order to dance with Cas himself. Dean barreled over intending to cut in with extreme prejudice, and the new Chief Administrator of Heaven retired, as he suddenly found himself surrounded by a swarm of unfriendly bees.
Dean was a “hug and shuffle your feet” type of slow dancer, but Cas didn’t seem to mind in the least, serenely tucking his head into the side of Dean’s neck and swaying to the soft, slow music. They looked as happy as…. Well, as happy as an interspecies romance could be, Sam guessed.
Sam still wondered if his brother counted as human any more.
“Thanks for coming!” He turned his head to gaze blearily at the female person who had just kissed his cheek.
“Oh. Hey. Yeah. Ruth. I’m really, really drunk.”
“Congratulations,” she said, straightening up. She was dressed, quite uncharacteristically, in a flowing green silk sari.
“Your brother quite enjoying himself?” Bibi asked Dean as they shook hands.
“He gets like this,” Dean laughed. “This was quite a ceremony.”
Bibi scratched the back of his neck and put an arm around Ruth. “Yeah. My people – we do it up right. You invite the whole neighborhood and go on for days.”
“I could get used to it,” Dean confessed. He looked between the happy couple. “So, you guys taking off? Honeymoon and whatever?”
Ruth’s eyes were shining. “Yeah, we’re going skiing!”
“Oh that sounds cool. Uh.” Dean searched his mind for where rich people toddled off to when they were skiing. “Aspen? Or, uh, Switzerland?”
“Niflheim!” gushed Bibi.
“Oh….”
“It’s their frozen underworld,” Ruth explained. “Don’t worry, I didn’t get it either. Anyways, Bibi is going to teach me snowboarding.”
Bibi was kissing the top of her head. “You will take to it as an angel to being dickish.”
The three chortled, and then Bibi and Ruth took their leave.
Dean settled down next to his brother. “Man, I feel like I never wanna leave this place. I just wanna grab one of Odin’s horses and ride around and explore, you know?”
Sam trained bleary eyes at his brother. “So you're a Norse god? Like literally?” This conversation had been going on, in fits and starts, since the brothers were reacquainted on the battlefield in Barstow.
Dean thought he had never seen Sam make quite that face. “Actually. I'm part of the Norse pantheon. I guess. But I couldn’t name the Nine Worlds if you hit me with the Word of God.”
“Where's your hammer?”
Dean looked honestly contrite. Although not too contrite. “Look, I should have said something when Odin brought it up....”
“Your new bestie. Odin, huh? Okay, great.”
“Sam-”
“Dean, look, you can do what you want, but you do realize-”
“I'm someone I used to hunt. Yeah.” Dean sighed. “Sammy, you gotta understand this just kind of happened....”
“Yeah, it’s okay because you're not snarfing blood with some demon girl, you're just being a Viking pagan dude with your angel boyfriend.” Sam said this because it was currently okay to say this, because he was currently very, very drunk.
“Okay, he's not- Well, actually he is.” Dean suddenly looked determined. “And, I wanna …. you know. Not mess it up. Like I've messed up pretty much everything.”
“I'm supposed to respect your life choices now?”
“Dean! Hey, am I interruptin’?” asked Benny, who had just sauntered up.
Dean stood up again, admittedly relieved to be extricated from this conversation. “Hey, Benny, no, not at all.” Sam gave Benny the stink-eye.
“I was headin’ out,” Benny told Dean.
“Oh, so soon?” asked Dean.
“Benny, I’ve been looking all over for you,” said Metatron, who was marching up along with Kali. The goddess gave Benny an inquisitive glance. “Have you met Kali?”
“Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Benny told Kali.
“What an enchanting accent,” said Kali, extending a hand. “Are you from the American South?”
“Louisiana, born and bred, darlin’.” Kali raised an eyebrow at Metatron, who looked smug.
Metatron put a hand on Kali's arm. “So, Benny, Kali wanted to go riding, but I was just not in the mood, and I told her I bet we could persuade you to take out a couple of Odin’s horses.”
Benny glanced from Metatron to Kali. He seemed to realize, with a start, that he was still holding the goddess’s hand, which he dropped. “Oh. Well. It would be my distinct pleasure, ma’am.”
“I thought you were just leaving, Benny?” Dean interjected, as he could not resist any opportunity to be a jerk.
“Did I say that?” asked Benny, extending an elbow towards Kali. “I must’ve been out in the sun too long.” Kali slid a hand into his elbow and they wandered off in a random direction.
“They’re not even headed towards the stables,” Dean pointed out. He rounded on Metatron. “This is some kind of girlie plot, isn’t it?”
“I’m not a girl, I’m an archangel.” Metatron shrugged. “Kali had been moping around, so Odin took pity on her and we brought back her son, Ganesha. But then she continued to mope. As I have learned from a close study of Dr. Sexy MD, this sort of behavior is often caused by relationship difficulties.”
Dean chuckled. “Yeah, Benny too. That’s guy’s been moping around since I beheaded his girlfriend.”
Metatron turned to stare at Dean. “Dean Winchester. You are a most interesting human being.”
“Uh, thanks. So, you're not interested in staying around and taking charge in heaven?”
“No interest at all,” said Metatron. “Leave it to that demon. Heaven is just not the place for the likes of me. Now this place,” she indicated Valhalla. “This place is fine.”
“I don't wanna leave,” laughed Dean
“Really?” asked Metatron, who gave him one of those uncomfortable soul-stares.
Dean shrugged and cast his eyes towards Sam, who was now sitting with his head drooping back, snoring contentedly. “Speaking of getting home, I think that one has had enough.”
Metatron hovered over Sam. “He is having a contented dream. You could leave him be.”
“Naw, I need to find the angel and-“
Metatron snapped her fingers, and Dean found himself suddenly face to face with a very disoriented Cas.
Cas’s expression quickly melted from sheer panic to relief. “Dean? Oh, Dean.”
“Don’t worry. I was looking for you when Metatron zapped you here,” Dean explained, as he suddenly realized why Cas was upset.
“Metatron?” asked Cas, looking around. The archangel was nowhere to be seen.
“Huh. She must have zapped out.” Dean grabbed a couple of Cas’s belt loops and tugged him nearer. He looked his angel up and down: brand new suit looking like it needed a pressing, tie hopelessly askew, and hair sticking every which way. “How do you do this? You looked fine when we left the motel this morning.” Dean reached up and carefully straightened the tie, finishing up with a kiss.
“Kali’s son Ganesha says I possess a rumpled aura!” Cas told him.
“What? Anyway, I was thinking we could zap Sammy home, he seems pretty wasted-“
“DEAN!”
Sam sputtered awake at Odin’s bellow, blinking around in confusion.
“Yeah, Odin,” said Dean.
“I need a favor, son.”
Dean shrugged. “Anything.”
“Metatron, she's getting itchy feet again, so now that the danger posed by Azrael has diminished, she's going to take off on another tour of the universe.”
“Hey, I was just talking to her. Sounds cool.”
Odin stood tall and beamed. “And she's invited me along.”
“Odin!” said Dean, holding up his hand. Odin high-fived him. “Dude. Good work.”
Odin leaned forward, clapping Dean on the shoulder in a conspiratorial manner. “But there is one thing. We might be gone a while, and as you know, things are still a bit up in the air. There's still angels out there, loyal to Azrael, and I expect they'll be up to some mischief.”
“I think Cas and I … and my brother, we'll take care of things.”
“I consider it my obligation, Odin,” said Cas.
“I'm thinking a little more selfishly.” Odin spread his arms out wide. “I'm thinking of my kingdom: of Valhalla. I couldn't countenance running off without, well, having a steady hand in charge. Much like Lord Yamaraja knew Naraka would be in good hands with Vibhishana.”
Sam sat forward, blearily rubbing his eyes. “Wait, Odin, are you asking my brother-”
“Now!” Odin interrupted, waving a hand. “I know you're undecided about all this transformation, Dean. I can well understand. But think of this, what if you just try it on for size, while I'm away? And if it doesn't work out, when I come back, we'll puzzle out a way to get you back to where you were.”
“Huh,” said Dean.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Odin? Can we get this in writing?”
“So that will be acceptable, Dean?” pleaded Odin.
Dean looked around at Sam.
“Go ahead,” grumbled Sam. “You know you want to.” Dean bounced up and down on his toes, nodding furiously.
“Thank you, Dean. Now I know the place will be in good hands.” Odin grinned and strode off.
Dean collapsed into a chair, and then yanked Cas down to sit in his lap. Cas looked bewildered for a moment, and then relaxed contentedly into Dean. It was awfully cute. And completely annoying.
“I don’t believe you, Dean. Now you’re housesitting Valhalla?” Sam croaked.
Dean was using his fingers to bring a sense of order to Cas’s perpetually mussed hair. “Aw, Sammy, you heard him! It’s just for a little while.”
Sam glared at Dean. “And what do gods consider ‘a little while?’”
Some years down the road….
Sam stared down from the front porch at the child with the wide green eyes clinging to Cas’s hand. “The girls are around in back,” he said.
“Gabriel, would you like to go see your cousins?” Cas asked the boy. The child nodded enthusiastically, and Cas, with a slight inclination of his head to Sam, led him around to the back yard.
Sam shook his head. The boy had shown up some years previous to this, as a babe in Cas’s arms. Dean had explained that Cas had been thinking very hard about a child, and subsequently had developed a migraine headache. After a few days had passed, Cas’s head had split open and the baby had appeared. And the process was every bit as sloppy and disgusting as it had sounded.
Vibhishana had simply explained that sometimes, when you were talking of gods, these things happened. Which didn't sound much like an explanation at all, but Sam had read enough mythology to know that it was correct. Bibi sent over Kali’s son, Ganesha, who aside from being Lord of Hosts and God of Beginnings was also an Oxford-educated medical doctor (in a previous incarnation), and something of an expert on angel physiology. After he'd gotten Cas’s head safely patched up and the angel had returned, more or less, to his senses, Ganesha had pronounced both father and son to be in perfect health. And Dean, once he was over fretting about Cas, rather enthusiastically accepted the child as his own. As it was, the tow-headed, green eyed and freckle-faced boy gave every evidence that somehow, though Sam didn’t really like to speculate how, he was indeed Dean’s true-born son.
Who happened to be part angel.
And part pagan god.
And all Winchester.
As for Cas, from then on, and upon Dr. Ganesha's advice, he attempted to stop thinking too deeply about children.
Sam reached into a cooler and dug out a couple of beers, one of which he handed over to his brother. Sam and Dean sat down on the porch steps, enjoying the frosty beverages. Sam also pulled out a shrink-wrapped CD from his pocket and tossed it at Dean. “From Garth,” he explained.
Dean eyed the cover, showing a handsome young Asian man poised over a cello. “Kevin's done good for himself. Did you listen?”
“We're not super big on classical, but I figured you could play it for Odin. When he gets back. If he gets back.”
“He'll get back,” smiled Dean. “We got a postcard from him and Mets. From Betelgeuse.”
Sam frowned over his beer. “OK, how to you send a postcard from Betelgeuse?”
“Put a stamp on it, drop it on the box.”
Sam regarded his brother, wondering when these kinds of conversations had become commonplace. Probably no worse than debating how to gank a revenant, he supposed. “Anyway. Thanks for the help assembling the swing set last night,” said Sam, arching his back. “It was a great surprise for them.”
“Hey, any time,” smiled his brother. “My nieces are cute. Even though my brother is still a bitch.”
“Jerk.”
“The kids like it?”
“I can’t get ‘em off it.”
“How’s the law practice going?”
“Well, the swing set was part of the fee for the last class action. And I think I can finish paying off the mortgage.”
“Sweet.” Dean paused. He side-eyed his brother. “And … the divorce?”
Sam stared across the lawn. “Should be final when we sign the next round of papers.”
“Well. That’s … good, right?”
Sam shook his head. Really, he'd said all he could say, and more. And Dean had been there, god love him, every time he needed to vent or cry into his beer. “The apple pie life? It’s not exactly … simple.” Dean nodded sympathetically. “Anyway, what about you?”
“Aw, same old same old.” Dean tipped back a beer. “Uncovered another flock of rogue angels.”
“Dean!” said Sam.
“It's all good. Cas had Alfie go talk to them.”
“He … Samandriel talked to them, Dean?”
“Yeah, the little guy.... Who knew? I always thought he was wasted at the Wiener Hut.” He grinned. “Anyway, I think they're all heading to the studio for wing tattoos.”
“You give that chick a lot of business.”
“Yeah, I think she's opening a franchise. She asked me for your card.” Dean suddenly paused as the unmistakable sound of his firstborn's name came drifting on the wind. “Uh-oh,” he said, as he and Sam grabbed beer bottles and headed around to the back.
“Gabriel!” scolded Cas.
The child stared up, batting lovely green eyes at Cas, while his cousins, darling chestnut-haired twin girls, sped around and squealed behind him, chasing little flickering pastel-colored butterflies which popped like soap bubbles as the girls caught them.
“What's going on with your son?” Dean asked Cas.
“He's my son now?” asked Cas, wheeling on Dean. “I didn't teach him that.”
“Uh. I may have, actually,” Dean confessed.
“And you know it's impossible for me to properly discipline him when he looks … like that.”
Dean grinned and grabbed his son, slinging him on a hip. “Yeah, that look. He gets that from his uncle.”
Sam produced a face that was much the opposite of the puppy dog eyes. “Now it’s my fault?”
“I think we can blame you,” said Dean.
“Yes, that sounds reasonable,” Cas dead-panned.
Sam threw a small bitchface, just for good measure, at his nephew. He thought for not the first time that the boy looked like Cas with Dean’s coloring, though he acted far too much like his namesake. He just really hoped the boy didn't grow up to act like Uncle Lucifer. Did other people have to worry about stuff like this? Seriously. “Maybe we should head inside. There's pie.”
“What? Really?” scoffed Dean.
“One of the benefits of the apple pie lifestyle. There is really pie inside,” said Sam.
“There is never really pie, Sam.”
“And ice cream, Sam?” asked Cas, his tone gone dreamy.
“Garbage gut,” said Dean, throwing an arm around Cas and giving him a kiss on the temple.
“And ice cream too. Let's go inside,” said Sam, taking the hands of two giggling little girls, and leading the whole motley bunch inside the quiet house behind the white picket fence.
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 gallop off into an AU and never return. Also, this chapter makes mention of a very silly and improbable version of mpreg. You should be fine if you’ve sat through mythology class, but be warned.
Word Count: 100,000 (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: Hey, you made it to the last chapter. Congrats. You owe yourself a cookie. (And get one for me.)
“It’s not much, but it’s home,” said Bibi.
Sam looked around. His own hell memories had dimmed, but this looked nothing like what he remembered. Is seemed very … clean. “You live in the underworld now, Bibi?”
“Naraka. Yeah. Oh, that’s right. You’ve been away, haven’t you, mate?”
“Uh, yeah, playing chess with an eccentric archangel.” Sam walked alongside Bibi. This place reminded him more than a little of the zoo. Only with abominations instead of giraffes. They passed enclosures containing a creature with luminous wings, and a sinuous multi-headed viper. There was the scent of fire and brimstone mixed with manure, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
“My uncle, Yamaraja, has passed on to the next plane of existence.”
It took Sam a beat. “Oh, I’m sorry man! I really liked that guy.”
“Thanks. Well, he died heroic like, so he should have a good journey. Anyway, he tapped me to run the place. By the way, you’re not squeamish about snakes, are you? This creature, she’s fairly serpentine.”
“Naw. I’m good. As long as you don’t have any clowns.”
Bibi grimaced. “Yeah, I hate those things. Who thinks they’re jolly, right?”
Sam regarded the dark man walking alongside him. Unlike nearly everyone else on the planet, Bibi was nearly as tall as Sam. “So, you and Ruth are getting married, right? Is she good with all this?”
“Oh, she’s glorying in it! She’ll make a right queen of hell. All right, here we are, Creepy Crawly Central.”
Sam stepped back. “Holy shit. Is that what I think it is?”
Bibi looked like a proud parent. “Yeah, Chinese style.”
“Whoa!” The beast uncoiled its great neck to nose at Sam, and he reached out and rubbed the scaly snout. It emitted a rumble, as if it were purring. “I think it likes me!”
Bibi grinned. His teeth were white. He wagged a finger at Sam. “Now, your brother made me swear up and down to tuck you away some place nice and safe once we’d plucked you out of Azrael’s clutches.”
“Oh. Bibi. Dude!” said Sam, making his very best puppy dog eyes.
Dean, digging for one of those goddamned tablets down inside a great crack in the ground somewhere in the middle of Kansas, cringed and fell on his shovel as two angels clashed almost directly overhead. They struggled for a while, and then finally moved away. With a sigh he asked, “We okay, Tad dude?” Dean frowned. “All right, I'm talking to a bee.” The bee on his shoulder buzzed, so he decided it was probably good to go on digging for the tablet.
And then there was another screech, angel versus angel, and he had to hit the dirt once again.
Dean righted himself, shaking off the soil, highly annoyed. “You know, Tad, I'm a god now, right? Shouldn't I be able to you know, use my godlike powers to magic up the tablet?”
The buzz this time sounded affirmative. Hey, maybe Cas wasn’t the only one who could talk to the animals, just imagine it? So, questioning his own mental health, Dean carefully laid down his shovel and concentrated on the loose earth below him. “Ummm. Accio tablet?” he tried. To his great shock, the ground underneath him began to vibrate. He looked at the bee, and then raised his hand towards the ground, the same way he’d seen Cas or Sam do when they did their magical incantation shit. And then he concentrated very, very hard. Yes, it was right below him. He could…. Well, he could feel it. Very weird. And cool. He stretched out his hand, the ground trembled again.
And then there was a crack.
The tablet popped up like a toaster pastry. Unthinkingly, Dean rushed to get underneath, disregarding that the thing must weigh considerably more than a softball. He caught it, right in the middle of the glove. If he’d been wearing a glove.
“Jackpot!” he told his bee friend. “I’m Luke Fucking Skywalker. Uh. Or maybe Harry Potter? And also part Willie Mays, which is cool. OK, cut the chatter, Tad, we gotta get this to Cas.”
“This isn't the word of God! This is a fake!” declared the vampire Gary Oldman/Azrael the archangel, taking a very deliberate sniff of the tablet. While his company of angels had been kept very busy (and often screaming) playing a game of “Spot the Real Leviathan” against Crowley and Ruth, Azrael had gotten his hands on the tablet Meg had given over and used his archangel mojo to painstakingly assemble it back together.
Unfortunately, it soon became apparent that there were very few of Crowley’s real Leviathan amongst Ruth’s illusions. Once the angels had figured that out, the battle had quickly turned against Ruth and the demons.
“We tried to make it funny,” complained Ruth as Azrael furiously re-smashed the tablet bits on the ground, creating yet more bits. She had shrunk back down to normal size from her seraphic form, which had been an illusion, and she, Meg and Crowley were now standing in the middle of a crowd of Azrael's angels, all of whom wore ugly expressions. “It was hilarious! You didn’t even read it!”
“No sense of humor, that one,” said Crowley, puffing on his sparkling pinwheel. He flourished it, and with a flash it morphed into an angel sword. “You ready, Elvira?” he asked Meg, who was suddenly holding her own angel sword.
“Ready to stab a bunch of motherfucking angels? Sure, Lucky Charms,” she grinned.
Ruth now held two swords. “Listen up Azrael. That tablet belongs to humanity. Yield. Or die.”
“You three think you are going to fight my legions!” huffed Azrael.
“They never listen,” sighed Ruth. “I said, ‘Yield or die.’ You heard me.”
“No, they never do listen,” said Bibi, who was suddenly standing in back of her.
“What is the meaning of this?” asked Azrael, who probably regretted his words as soon as they were out of his mouth.
“Hey, everybody! Did you miss me?” yelled Sam, who had just suddenly popped up at the edge of the field.
“Sam? Where did you come from?” asked Azrael.
“I hopped a ride from one of Bibi's friends.” Sam stepped aside.
There was a dragon behind him.
A real one. Chinese style. It uncoiled its scaly neck. And hissed.
And spat fire, scorching several of Azrael’s angels, who ran screaming in pain.
“Oh, fuck me,” said Azrael.
“Got it!” said Dean. He proudly handed the still muddy tablet over to Cas. “You’ll never guess how I got it out!”
“We’ve got to get this out of here,” said Cas. His trench coat was badly bloodstained, though whose blood wasn’t clear. His vessel had definitely sustained several wounds.
“Then let’s get going, like we planned,” said Dean, grabbing his angel by the arm.
“I can’t abandon my forces now. We’ve incurred heavy losses. I’ll get Inias to take you.”
“I’m not going anywhere while you’re still here.” Thaddeus the bee buzzed sympathetically around Dean’s shoulder.
“Dean! This is really an inopportune time for you to express your characteristic stubbornness.”
“Right back at you, angel boy.”
Dean and Cas glared at each other for a long moment, before they were interrupted by the sound of a horn blaring in the distance. They both broke eye-lock to turn to look northward. A great company of riders had appeared out of nowhere, led by a man with reddish hair and a neatly trimmed red beard, astride a monstrous eight-legged horse. Two huge wolves prowled at his feet. Hel rode beside him, and the combined armies of Valhalla and the netherworld were arrayed behind them.
“Yippie-ki-yay, motherfuckers!” shouted Odin. And to emphasize his point, he let fly his spear, which caught a rather large seraph and pinned him to a tree. Shouting and howling, the cavalry charged the angels. As Cas and Dean watched, astounded, Azrael’s legions broke before the thundering onslaught.
“Boy, I bet Salina has never had so much fun,” said Dean. Cas sighed and appeared to wipe a tear.
“Is it possible?” asked Inias, who had just appeared at Cas’s side.
“I thought you angel guys were the miracle people,” said Dean. “Well, here you go.”
“Inias, we have the tablet. Take charge here. Help Odin. I’m going to take Dean and deliver the tablet to Azrael.”
Inias gripped Cas’s shoulder. “Please take care, brother.” Dean realized he and Cas were leaving to go confront an archangelic battle to the death. Not for the first time that day, he questioned his own sanity.
Cas nodded at his friend. “You do the same, Inias. Dean, are you ready?”
“Castiel! Wait!” shouted Inias. Two of Cas’s angels had struggled out of the melee. They held between them a woman wearing a suit. A prisoner, Dean thought.
“She begged to be taken before you,” said the male angel who had been holding her.
“Naomi,” sighed Cas. “I really don’t have time for your bullshit right now.”
“This is that Naomi chick?” growled Dean, who found his mind drifting to creative ways of flaying her alive.
“Castiel! Please!” Naomi had fallen to her knees in front of him. “They say you have news of Samandriel.”
Cas glared down at her. “Crowley was holding him. He was tortured. He…. He is hovering between life and death even now.”
She stared up, her eyes wide. “No. Tell me it’s not so.”
“I’m sorry, Naomi. Samandriel is under my protection now.”
“So Alfie. Or Samandriel. He was your friend?” asked Dean suspiciously.
Naomi was breathing hard. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I turned him in. I had to do it. He was loyal to you. He was a traitor.” Suddenly, she sprang up and jumped at one of her guards, wrestling away his angel sword. She scrambled in the mud, a few feet away, where she pointed the sword at herself, harakiri style. “I did this.”
She went sprawling when Cas, quick as a flash, stepped over and landed a roundhouse punch on her jaw. He grabbed the sword, and then yanked Naomi up by the collar, so she was face to face with him.
“No more death,” he growled. He tossed her back down and ordered the guards, “Keep a watch on her. I’ll decide what to do with her when we get back. Dean?”
“Tad is coming too,” said Dean, indicating the bee still buzzing at his shoulder. “He’s my dude.”
Cas looked distractedly at Dean, and then, flashing a very small smile, put two fingers on Dean’s forehead.
“Are you sure you have your notebook, Kevin?”
“Mom,” whined Kevin. “For the last time-“
“You guys might wanna keep it down,” urged Namtar, who grasped his little brother’s hand tightly as he and the Trans threaded down through the dusty streets of Irkalla. “My stepdad’s got eyes everywhere.”
“Doesn’t look like there’s much here, dude,” Kevin remarked.
“There’s no dogs,” sulked Namtar.
“Dogs are cool,” agreed Kevin.
“Uncle Odin has some great dogs! Well, I mean, technically, they’re wolves, but they’re really cool.”
“Oh, so he’s Uncle Odin now?” laughed Nergal, who had just appeared in front of the small party.
Namtar swallowed hard. He didn’t need to look around to know several of his stepfather’s guards had now probably got them surrounded. “I gotta go, Nergal. I’m late for my violin recital.”
“Are you? Then, where is your violin case?” chuckled Nergal. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you, boy? But actually, I’m really smart! So now, hand over that tablet, and we can end this peacefully.
“Back off, Nergal,” hissed Namtar, who flourished his dark wings in a threatening manner. Little Ninazu beside him flapped his small wings as well.
Nergal actually backed down a step, seeming, for once, uncertain. But then he frowned and steeled himself. “Give me that tablet!” he snarled, lunging for Kevin. But he howled in pain as his jaw was met by Mrs. Tran’s fist.
“Keep away from my boy,” Mrs. Tran lectured him as Nergal sprawled on the ground, rubbing his broken jaw. Linda gasped as she was suddenly grasped by the shirt and wrenched upwards.
Namtar had grabbed both Kevin and Mrs. Tran and, though they made a clumsy assemblage, was flying them towards the city gates. “Ninazu!” Namtar yelled back, and then, gasping with the exertion, he lumbered towards the city wall, where he unceremoniously dumped the Trans to the ground, red-faced, huffing and puffing.
“Whoa, that was cool!” enthused Kevin, who bounced to his feet. “I didn’t realize those wings actually worked!”
“What the hell did you think they were for,” huffed Namtar.
“I dunno. Maybe as a dust mop?”
“Where is Ninazu?” asked Linda, scanning around for him.
“No worries, here he comes now!” said Namtar, pointing towards the funny moth-like object now fluttering towards them. Ninazu dive-bombed and ended up in his brother’s arms. “He just stopped a minute to cure everybody’s deep-seated anger issues. My stepdad is gonna have a hard time rallying his guards.”
“Wait, what is that?” asked Kevin as a very strange-looking man rushed up to them. The dude looked like he was decked out in an entire Goodwill shop’s bounty, from the purple cowboy hat on top of his head, the fringed jacket he wore over a lady’s evening gown over bloomers, and flip-flops somehow jammed underneath his boots.
“I need an article of clothing from each of you! Them’s the rules.”
“Back off, or I’ll give you dysentery again,” warned Namtar, flapping his wings.
“No, don’t do that!” the raggedy man pleaded. He rubbed his belly. “I still have tummy troubles from the last time.”
“Oh, and make sure my stepfather doesn’t get out. Not until we come back for him,” Namtar told him.
“Yes, Prince Namtar. Anything you say.”
“Also, Ninazu wants your hat!” In truth, the little god had been hopping up and down, gesturing for the gate guard’s knit cap. With great reluctance, the gate guard took it off and handed it over to Namtar, who stuck it on a giddy Ninazu’s head.
“Okay,” said Namtar, “now everybody lean close, I gotta zap us all out of here.”
“Azrael! Stop!”
Dean put a finger in his ear and wiggled it around. He stood in the middle of the desert near Barstow, clutching the tablet, while around him angels battled every size and shape of hell monsters. As they had planned, Bibi had unleashed Naraka for this. There were even some creatures Dean could have sworn were dragons. Not Ruth’s Broadway musical-influenced illusions. Real goddamn dragons.
And on top of the sensory overload, now he was absolutely certain he had just heard – actually heard – the sound of Cas’s true voice.
And then Cas was beside him, in human form.
“Dude. When you angel up? I think I can hear you now,” Dean told him.
Cas looked intrigued. “Really? I wonder if you can see me.”
“Don’t really wanna go eye melt, but, yeah.”
“Azrael, we have the tablet!” Cas yelled.
“I'll take that,” said Azrael, who was suddenly, in the middle of the smoke and fury, standing before them.
“Azrael? Is Gary Oldman?” Dean whispered to Cas.
“Your brother chose this vessel, Dean Winchester,” sighed Azrael. They all ducked as overhead, a sinuous winged dragon chased after an angel.
“Holy shit,” muttered Dean, staring up at the guy riding the dragon. “Is that Sammy?”
“Now give me the tablet!” shouted Azrael. With a flick of his fingers, the tablet was wrenched from Dean’s hands and sailed over to Azrael. He stared at the tablet, and gave it a sniff. And then he licked it.
“Ewww, angel germs,” said Dean.
“This tablet it truly the Word of the Lord,” said Azrael.
“You can’t read that, Azrael,” Cas told him. “It’s not meant for you. It’s meant for humanity.”
“You must give over Metatron to translate it for me. I know she’s in hiding.”
“Azrael, be reasonable,” said Cas.
“Reasonable isn't in the archangel playbook,” Dean whispered to him.
“Brother, Odin is routing your forces in Kansas. You won’t last long here against the combined forces of the underworld.”
Azrael glowered. “Give her over, Castiel, or I will smite you and everyone you know!”
“Cas, dude,” said Dean. “You heard Vampire Diaries over here. I really don’t wanna see you go all chunky soup again.”
“If you insist, Azrael,” sighed Cas. “Metatron?”
There was a flash, like ball lightning striking nearby. And Metatron stood on the edge of the cul-de-sac.
“Whoa, she knows how to make an entrance,” commented Dean, as the hairs on the back of his arms stood up. The crazy battle of demons versus angels waging overhead and all around them suddenly seemed very far away. Despite the acrid smell of smoke, the roar of flying demonic monsters and the clash of weaponry, only Azrael and Metatron registered. They both radiated raw pure power, like a couple of small nuclear infernos.
Metatron’s footsteps echoed through the desert. “I wasn’t hiding, brother,” she said. She took off her sunglasses and waved them at him. “By the way, that is a highly attractive vessel.”
“Why do women always like these ugly guys with long hair?” Dean asked Cas. “He's just an ugly guy with long hair.”
“I think you are more attractive, Dean,” said Cas.
“Thanks, Cas.”
“This was Sam Winchester's doing,” grumbled an obviously frustrated Azrael.
Metatron huffed. “Ah, I didn't think you had the taste. Now, will you cut out the temper tantrum? And stop this fighting! Or do you need a time out?”
“I sensed you had returned, Metatron,” said Azrael. “Now you will pay for your perfidy.”
Metatron studied her fingernails. “Perfidy? Oh, come on Azzy, Father is omniscient. Who says it wasn't his plan that I took off with a tablet?”
Azrael flushed scarlet. “Do not call me that! You will read this tablet to me, or I will slay your friends. All of them.”
“Quit trying to impress me,” sighed Metatron. “You’re not Death. You'll never be Death. No matter how many tablets you steal. And you know why?” Despite being in a shorter vessel, she stared down at him. “Because Death has class.”
“You were always a know-it-all.”
“You were always a spoiled brat!”
“This is what the end of the world comes down to?” Dean whispered to Cas.
“My family. What can I say,” moaned Cas, who was blushing deeply.
“I will end you.” Azrael was thundering. “And I will end everybody.”
“And then reign over … what exactly?” Dean interjected.
“Dean is right,” said Metatron. “You can't create. Only our Father can do that. You can only kill, Azzy.”
“Do. Not. Call. Me. That,” shrieked Azrael. And with a rush of wind, the archangel morphed into a fireball, rising up a good twenty feet in the air as he did so.
“He never cared for that nickname,” Metatron told them.
“OK,” said Dean. “Human Torch archangel, not good.”
“Do I have to come up there?” yelled Metatron, who herself turned into a knot of electricity and charged up to meet her brother.
“This is so not good,” Dean told Cas.
“No, Dean. It isn’t.” Cas lurched to cover Dean, and Dean felt himself zapped a good 100 yards away just as Azrael sent a column of white hot fire towards Metatron. She countered with an electrical zap, and the resulting conflagration melted the spot underneath the two battling angels, where Cas and Dean had just been standing. The ground trembled, sending a shock wave that nearly knocked them from their feet.
“I'm so sorry I'm late!” piped up Namtar, who had just turned up, along with Kevin and Mrs. Tran. “I couldn't find a sitter for Ninazu.” He was holding on to his little brother, who scrambled out of his arms to come stand by Cas.
“That’s a very nice hat, Ninazu,” Cas complimented the small boy.
“Now, don't apologize, Namtar. It's nice to see a well-behaved boy,” said Mrs. Tran.
“Mom! Just fuck off,” sighed Kevin, who was holding a large bowl.
“Language, Kevin!”
Everyone was distracted from the chatter as Azrael whipped out another trail of flame at Metatron, who countered with a bolt of lightning. Thunder cracked. A great fissure appeared in the ground underneath them.
“Guys! You have the stuff?” asked Dean. “It’s archangel cage match time. We need this like yesterday!”
“Everything but the mermaid tears,” said Mrs. Tran. She tutted. “Garth was gonna bring them. So untrustworthy.”
“Got 'em!” yelled Bibi, who had just popped up holding Benny and Garth by their collars. Both of the latter were utterly dripping wet.
“Uh,” said Garth. “We're awfully sorry, but there was this … incident, where Benny made a bet with a mermaid.”
“Can't trust those gals for a second,” chuckled Benny. “Though they are cute.”
Thunder crashed again overhead as the archangels skirmished. The ground trembled. “Did you get the mermaid's tears?” Dean shouted.
Garth winked at Mrs. Tran and held up a small flask.
Kevin grabbed the flask from Garth and knelt down, setting the bowl he was carrying on the ground. He then pulled out yet another stone tablet. “You're sure this is the right tablet?” asked Dean, hunkering down next to him.
“Of course! This is the angel tablet,” said Mrs. Tran. “My son says so.”
“He has a tablet?” asked Cas.
“Can't you see it?” Dean asked him.
Cas squatted down next to Dean reached out a hand, blindly grasping towards the object. “I am blind to it.”
“Wow. You think your Dad did this?”
Cas smiled bitterly. “Knowing my brothers and sisters, it was probably a good move.”
“Castiel, you need to get out of here,” said Kevin, picking up the flask. “Now.”
Cas nodded and stood up.
“And...” Kevin started. “Can you get my mom away too? I mean, a safe distance?” He looked anxious.
“Don't worry,” said Cas, smiling down at him. “Dean?”
“I'll stay.”
“And I'm stayin' too,” said Benny. “Don't wanna miss this.”
Cas picked up Ninazu. “Come. We have many books to color,” he told the child. And then he went to put two fingers to Mrs. Tran's forehead.
“I'm not sure-” Mrs. Tran. began.
“I'm staying here, Linda,” Garth promised. “I'll watch over Kevin.”
Mrs. Tran nodded, looking uncharacteristically fearful, but, before she could raise any more objections, blinked out to the sound of wingbeats.
Everyone cringed as the ground shook. The great crack in the ground widened as the archangels battled overhead. Dean grabbed the bowl to keep it from spilling over.
“Now or never, boy,” said Benny.
Kevin gulped. He carefully placed the tablet down on the ground, and, staring down at it, began to recite some words, at the same time dribbling the mermaid's tears into the bowl.
There was a pause. And then everybody cringed as a huge flash of light emitted from the bowl. There were ear-piercing screams, and Metatron and Azrael both fell out of the sky. The other angels, every single one of them, collapsed, moaning. There went up a call among the demon army, and all fighting ceased.
The desert, at last, was in silence.
“Worked,” grinned Dean. “Now you go,” he told Kevin.
“What, me?” asked Kevin.
“This is your deal, kiddo,” Garth told him.
Kevin swallowed hard, and then gathered up the tablet and stood. “Listen up, angels! I am the prophet, Kevin.”
Metatron had made it to her feet and stood, brushing off her posterior. Azrael leapt to his feet, his sunglasses askew. “You will pay for this, Prophet Kevin!” he shouted, and then raised his hand as if to smite Kevin, who cringed. But nothing happened. Azrael stared at his hand.
“Like I said, listen up!” yelled Kevin, as more of the low ranked angels struggled to their feet. “This tablet I'm holding is the word of God. I just used a spell from here to de-power you all for 24 hours. But believe me, there is much worse on this thing. Much worse!”
“Lies! He's not holding anything,” said Azrael.
Dean grabbed the tablet from Kevin and held it up. He took it and smacked Azrael in the head with it, and then gave it back to Kevin as the archangel sank to his knees, rubbing his head. “He's got a tablet, your Father just fixed it so you guys can't see it. Dumbass.”
“Ow!” said Azrael.
“Idiot,” sniffed Metatron.
“You said this will wear off,” said Azrael. “What if we steal your tablet after I regain my power?”
“You'd have to steal the internet, Azrael,” said Cas, who had just reappeared. “We have just posted several of the anti-angel spells on the World Wide Web.”
“I knew it was a good idea to teach you how to use that laptop,” Dean told him.
“Ninazu helped,” Cas conceded. “Linda has decided he is a good candidate for medical school.”
Azrael was standing in front of Cas. “Castiel. You have given away our secrets? To the humans? You are a traitor to your race.”
“No. We are in service to humans. As we always should have been.”
Azrael let out a cry as Metatron suddenly yanked him back. Evidently, even de-powered, she was still incredibly strong. “And stay away from my little brother,” she warned. “Or you’re gonna get a smiting like you’ve never gotten before.”
“You won't stop me until you kill me,” Azrael warned.
“There has been enough killing, enough death,” Cas told him.
“I will call my legions!”
“You'll have to find them first,” warned Odin, who had just come thundering up on a monstrous eight-legged horse. “We just scattered them to the four winds.”
“This isn't the end,” Azrael warned.
“Dude, I think it is,” said Dean.
“Heads up!” yelled Benny. Dean grabbed Cas as Benny slammed his hand down on a blood sigil he'd just been drawing. Suddenly all the angels, with the exception of Cas and Metatron, vanished in a flash of light.
“You OK, Mets?” asked Odin, leaping down from his horse.
“I'll be damned. It worked,” said Metatron, regarding the new tattoo on the inside of her wrist. “And it's quite stylish.”
“Your anti-banishing tatt worked too?” Dean asked Cas, not releasing him from the embrace.
Cas smiled, now nearly nose to nose with Dean. “Yes, this was unneeded. But not unwelcome.”
“Oh, just get it over with,” said Meg. She and Crowley were now standing nearby, Crowley playing with a colorful pinwheel.
Dean glowered at Meg, but then kissed Cas anyway.
“Well, ain't that cute,” said Benny.
Crowley made to plant a kiss on Meg, who instead turned his pinwheel to ash. “Dammit!” he groused. “Do I get to kiss the angel at least?”
“No,” chorused both Dean and Cas.
“Where did you banish all the angels to, Benny?” asked Kevin.
“A little ol’ swamp in Louisiana,” said Benny. “They'll make friends. It's crawlin' with gators.”
“Dammit, dude, we won! Quit going all static-y.”
Cas smiled mildly at Dean as they walked through what had been a battlefield only hours before. It was still a hub of activity. Beings who weren't helping clean up were busy casting spells and enchantments to keep human eyes far away.
“It's true, I am nervous about this tribunal.”
“It's still pretty soon after the war to be doing that kind of shit?” asked Dean. “I mean, unless there are gonna be beheadings. In which case, I approve, especially if it involves Crowley.”
Cas halted, gazing affectionately at Dean. “The battle is over, but now we must maintain the peace. Inias has made a study of the American Civil War and found-”
“Have you noticed that Inias is kind of a geek. Even for an angel.”
Cas's smile ripened into something absolutely angelic. “The best of us are quite inordinately fond of humans and their history,” he said. Dean leaned in, thinking maybe this called for another great battlefield kiss, but Cas, frustratingly, turned away. “Oh, here we are.”
Dean turned in the direction Cas was pointing, annoyed, but then he immediately set off in a run. “Sammy!” he shouted. He engulfed his little brother in a hug.
“Dean! Look! I have a dragon!” said Sam, excitedly waving at the scaly beast beside him.
“Uh, yeah, I kind of noticed,” said Dean as the beast uncoiled its neck and flapped its great scaly wings.
“It’s a real dragon, Dean!”
“I hope you’re not gonna say you wanna keep him?” sighed Dean. He looked at his shoulder. “Hey, I got a bee?” Thaddeus buzzed proudly. “This is Tad.”
“I thought worker bees were female,” said Sam, squinting at the little bee.
Dean and the bee glared at Sam. “Don’t be small -minded, Sam,” said Dean. He squinted at his brother. “Are you okay, Sammy?”
“I got to ride a dragon, Dean,” said Sam, who suddenly sagged down to sit on the low fence that surrounded the housing development. “And before I was caught in a dream where you and Cas were dead, and then I had to play chess and drink really bad hot chocolate with a crazy archangel.”
Dean sat down next to his brother. “Yeah, you were being reckless with your queen.”
Sam stared for a moment. “Yeah. How did you know? Anyway. Dean. Can we get back to normal stuff now like ganking werewolves? Because I think I’ve had enough.”
Dean threw an affectionate arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Whatever you want, Sammy.”
Sam looked Dean up and down. “So what’s going on with you? Cas hinted at something but wouldn’t tell me.”
Dean looked around. “Oh. Huh. Where is Cas, anyway?”
“He went off somewhere. What's going on?”
Dean stared down at the ground. “Yeah, it’s kind of a funny story….”
“Hey, Dean! Sam!” yelled Ruth as she and Metatron strolled up.
“How you feeling?” Sam asked the archangel.
“Splendid! I find being de-powered is king of … liberating.”
“You seen Cas, Mets?” asked Dean.
“Over at the tribunal,” said Metatron, pointing towards the house.
Dean looked her up and down. “That’s started already? You not there too?”
“No interest,” she told him, reaching over to scratch the dragon's inquisitive snout.
“The dragon likes me!” Sam told Ruth. “Can I keep her?”
Ruth patted the dragon. “You boys have a back yard big enough?” she smiled.
“Uh. Maybe not.”
Dean squinted at Sam. “I think I got a new rule, Sammy. No dragons riding baby.”
“What if we take her back home to Naraka, and you guys visit whenever you like?” asked Ruth.
“That would be great!” said Sam.
“Now we're agreeing to go to hell?” asked Dean, mulling it over.
“We can have you over, and Bibi and Kevin can jam some more. Maybe after the wedding.” Ruth turned to Sam and Dean. “You guys are still coming to our wedding, right?”
Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. “Is the dragon invited?” asked Sam.
“Can you take him, Hun Came?” asked Odin, taking a good pull of his beer. He sat the bottle down on the dining room table and sat back, wiping his mouth. “These microbrews, they're not bad,” he commented to Hades, who was beside him, nodding and turning up the flame that danced around his head.
The Mayan Lord of Xibalba glanced at the cowering Nergal, considering. “Hrm. The Room of Knives perhaps? We do need someone to assess their sharpness.”
“You can't do this to me!” wailed Nergal. He held up his hands. “I have terrible cuticles!”
“We can. And we will,” rasped Hel.
“You're a lying sack of shit!” said Namtar, for which Hades whacked him on the back of the head, muttering, “Language.”
Cas nodded and made a gesture, and some attendants bore away a still protesting Nergal.
“Can I have a beer, Uncle Odin?” asked Namter.
“No,” smiled the god. “Maybe just one. Later. Who's next?”
“Crowley,” said Inias, reading from a tablet.
“You'll let me handle this one?” asked Cas. The rest of the parties at the table - Odin, Hel, Hades, Hun Came, Inias, Namtar and Bibi - all nodded in agreement.
A pair of angels escorted a very annoyed Crowley in front of the table. Meg wandered in after him, and settled herself down in an easy chair by the wall.
“Look, what's the meaning of this? I helped you!” Crowley protested.
“We are grateful for your service, Crowley,” Cas told him. “But I'm afraid we need to decide what's best for you now that you're out of a job.”
“WHAT?”
Cas indicated the angel sitting beside him. “Inias will serve as the new Regent of Hell-“
“I’ll actually serve as temporary co-chairman of the Central Coordinating Committee, in a rotating term!” Inias supplied.
“Uh, thanks Inias,” said Cas, waving him off. “Um. Anyway. It's a tradition for rebellious angels. They need a new homeland, and I think they can effect some improvements. And with things up in the air, we need someone in there we can, well, trust.”
“I have made a detailed study of the pagan underworlds,” Inias piped up, “and I think that-”
“Oh, shut it, Nathan Sykes,” grumbled Crowley.
Inias looked at Cas, who shrugged.
“He's in The Wanted. It's a boy band,” Meg piped up.
“Thank you, Meg.”
“Were you in on this, Vampira?” Crowley demanded of Meg.
Meg stretched out, cat-like, in the chair. “I said I might stick around. To help Justin Bieber over there.”
“Why can't they just use my name?” Inias wondered.
“Because I think she totally likes you, Inias!” said Namtar, which made Crowley chortle and Meg maybe sort of blush.
“Can we get back on track?” said Odin, holding up a now empty beer bottle. “I need to get out of here and get to the serious drinking.”
“I had another idea regarding your future role, Crowley,” said Cas. He sat forward, hands clasped. “You need work exercising that new conscience of yours. But no matter how much you change you will still be … you.”
“Can I have a drink too?” asked Crowley.
“No. But I was thinking, there is a place that might benefit from your unique … skill set. A place that has been plagued for untold years by a corrupt and craven bureaucracy. A place that, three times in recent memory, has hatched plots that would result in the diminution or even cessation of life on earth-”
“Holy crap! YOU WANT ME TO TAKE ON HEAVEN?” howled Crowley.
“That's the plan,” said Odin, chucking his beer bottle into a recycling bin.
“Think about it, Crowley,” said Hades. “You, in charge of heaven's host.”
The wheels in Crowley's mind had begun to turn. “Little old black-hearted me? Bossing around angels?”
“They need to be brought to heel,” stated Inias.
“Will you do it, demon?” rasped Hel.
Crowley grinned a grin, staring at Cas. “Well. That depends.” He arched an eyebrow. “Are we gonna seal the deal with a kiss?”
Crowley gasped to suddenly find himself in a passionate clench – with Hades, who had more or less teleported beside him. What followed, to the mixed wonder and amusement of those assembled, included much tongue. As well as bright blue flame. And then it was over, and Hades was back sitting behind the dining room table, casually examining his fingernails, and Crowley was on the floor, his hair still smoking. Crowley slowly propped himself up on his elbows to stare at the lord of the Greek underworld.
“Contracts,” said Hades. “They're a good thing.” He winked at Crowley.
Sam leaned back in his chair and tried to remember how long he had been there, in Asgard, drinking.
It had been a long, long, long time.
They – he and Dean – were sitting at a table outside the hall of Valhalla, which was bedecked for a celebration. Some of the trimmings looked Norse, others more east Asian, and there were still more that could have been purchased at Walmart in the Midwest.
The guests were a similar crazy quilt: a surfeit of gods and demons, a heaping of departed spirits, a sprinkling of angels, and even a few humans, like him and Dean. Although Sam was no longer certain about his brother and the whole “human” thing. Which had been the impetus for much of the alcohol consumption.
The monks who had trained Ruth were there, although Sam had not spoken to them, as they all seemed glued to their Bluetooth devices. Isaiah sat glumly at their table, though he occasionally raised his head and tried to flirt with a passing girl or goddess.
Bibi’s side of the family was a riot, all silk saris and fiery eyes and blue skin and many, many jutting arms. Sam had been introduced to several, some of whom seemed familiar from mythology classes or the Ramayana or the various Bollywood flicks he’d seen back in college. They spent a lot of time on the dance floor, all of them.
Kevin had performed alongside Namtar (who played violin) in a string quartet, and it was difficult to determine whose mother was prouder, although both boys had seemed more eager to throw off their jackets and play fetch with Odin’s wolves. Kevin, for the first time in Sam’s memory seemed really young, which made Sam feel somehow old.
A high point of the afternoon had been when a pale but still very alive Samandriel was briefly wheeled out to join the festivities: an event that caused more of a commotion than the reception line. But Sam had paid more attention to Alfie’s attendant. Cas claimed she had been stripped of all her angelic powers in penance, but Sam still thought Naomi looked pretty damned evil. Angels, oddly enough, seemed more forgiving of her. He nearly didn’t recognize Inias, newly appointed King of Hell (or committee chairman, or whatever the hell he had explained) dressed up once again in a suit.
The happy couple had chosen some old Fleetwood Mac song as their first dance. Dean had been dreading this moment, as he claimed Bibi had a taste for terrible music, but in the end approved, probably because he had always had a crush on Stevie Nicks. Ruth and Bibi were evidently both people who really danced, and didn’t just sort of hug and shuffle their feet, like you do. To Dean’s annoyance, Meg had then oozed over to their table to ask Cas for a dance, which Cas, to Dean’s further ire, had shyly accepted. Dean’s temper was not improved some minutes later when Crowley (who had spent the afternoon avoiding a fully recharged Metatron as best he could) cut in, in order to dance with Cas himself. Dean barreled over intending to cut in with extreme prejudice, and the new Chief Administrator of Heaven retired, as he suddenly found himself surrounded by a swarm of unfriendly bees.
Dean was a “hug and shuffle your feet” type of slow dancer, but Cas didn’t seem to mind in the least, serenely tucking his head into the side of Dean’s neck and swaying to the soft, slow music. They looked as happy as…. Well, as happy as an interspecies romance could be, Sam guessed.
Sam still wondered if his brother counted as human any more.
“Thanks for coming!” He turned his head to gaze blearily at the female person who had just kissed his cheek.
“Oh. Hey. Yeah. Ruth. I’m really, really drunk.”
“Congratulations,” she said, straightening up. She was dressed, quite uncharacteristically, in a flowing green silk sari.
“Your brother quite enjoying himself?” Bibi asked Dean as they shook hands.
“He gets like this,” Dean laughed. “This was quite a ceremony.”
Bibi scratched the back of his neck and put an arm around Ruth. “Yeah. My people – we do it up right. You invite the whole neighborhood and go on for days.”
“I could get used to it,” Dean confessed. He looked between the happy couple. “So, you guys taking off? Honeymoon and whatever?”
Ruth’s eyes were shining. “Yeah, we’re going skiing!”
“Oh that sounds cool. Uh.” Dean searched his mind for where rich people toddled off to when they were skiing. “Aspen? Or, uh, Switzerland?”
“Niflheim!” gushed Bibi.
“Oh….”
“It’s their frozen underworld,” Ruth explained. “Don’t worry, I didn’t get it either. Anyways, Bibi is going to teach me snowboarding.”
Bibi was kissing the top of her head. “You will take to it as an angel to being dickish.”
The three chortled, and then Bibi and Ruth took their leave.
Dean settled down next to his brother. “Man, I feel like I never wanna leave this place. I just wanna grab one of Odin’s horses and ride around and explore, you know?”
Sam trained bleary eyes at his brother. “So you're a Norse god? Like literally?” This conversation had been going on, in fits and starts, since the brothers were reacquainted on the battlefield in Barstow.
Dean thought he had never seen Sam make quite that face. “Actually. I'm part of the Norse pantheon. I guess. But I couldn’t name the Nine Worlds if you hit me with the Word of God.”
“Where's your hammer?”
Dean looked honestly contrite. Although not too contrite. “Look, I should have said something when Odin brought it up....”
“Your new bestie. Odin, huh? Okay, great.”
“Sam-”
“Dean, look, you can do what you want, but you do realize-”
“I'm someone I used to hunt. Yeah.” Dean sighed. “Sammy, you gotta understand this just kind of happened....”
“Yeah, it’s okay because you're not snarfing blood with some demon girl, you're just being a Viking pagan dude with your angel boyfriend.” Sam said this because it was currently okay to say this, because he was currently very, very drunk.
“Okay, he's not- Well, actually he is.” Dean suddenly looked determined. “And, I wanna …. you know. Not mess it up. Like I've messed up pretty much everything.”
“I'm supposed to respect your life choices now?”
“Dean! Hey, am I interruptin’?” asked Benny, who had just sauntered up.
Dean stood up again, admittedly relieved to be extricated from this conversation. “Hey, Benny, no, not at all.” Sam gave Benny the stink-eye.
“I was headin’ out,” Benny told Dean.
“Oh, so soon?” asked Dean.
“Benny, I’ve been looking all over for you,” said Metatron, who was marching up along with Kali. The goddess gave Benny an inquisitive glance. “Have you met Kali?”
“Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Benny told Kali.
“What an enchanting accent,” said Kali, extending a hand. “Are you from the American South?”
“Louisiana, born and bred, darlin’.” Kali raised an eyebrow at Metatron, who looked smug.
Metatron put a hand on Kali's arm. “So, Benny, Kali wanted to go riding, but I was just not in the mood, and I told her I bet we could persuade you to take out a couple of Odin’s horses.”
Benny glanced from Metatron to Kali. He seemed to realize, with a start, that he was still holding the goddess’s hand, which he dropped. “Oh. Well. It would be my distinct pleasure, ma’am.”
“I thought you were just leaving, Benny?” Dean interjected, as he could not resist any opportunity to be a jerk.
“Did I say that?” asked Benny, extending an elbow towards Kali. “I must’ve been out in the sun too long.” Kali slid a hand into his elbow and they wandered off in a random direction.
“They’re not even headed towards the stables,” Dean pointed out. He rounded on Metatron. “This is some kind of girlie plot, isn’t it?”
“I’m not a girl, I’m an archangel.” Metatron shrugged. “Kali had been moping around, so Odin took pity on her and we brought back her son, Ganesha. But then she continued to mope. As I have learned from a close study of Dr. Sexy MD, this sort of behavior is often caused by relationship difficulties.”
Dean chuckled. “Yeah, Benny too. That’s guy’s been moping around since I beheaded his girlfriend.”
Metatron turned to stare at Dean. “Dean Winchester. You are a most interesting human being.”
“Uh, thanks. So, you're not interested in staying around and taking charge in heaven?”
“No interest at all,” said Metatron. “Leave it to that demon. Heaven is just not the place for the likes of me. Now this place,” she indicated Valhalla. “This place is fine.”
“I don't wanna leave,” laughed Dean
“Really?” asked Metatron, who gave him one of those uncomfortable soul-stares.
Dean shrugged and cast his eyes towards Sam, who was now sitting with his head drooping back, snoring contentedly. “Speaking of getting home, I think that one has had enough.”
Metatron hovered over Sam. “He is having a contented dream. You could leave him be.”
“Naw, I need to find the angel and-“
Metatron snapped her fingers, and Dean found himself suddenly face to face with a very disoriented Cas.
Cas’s expression quickly melted from sheer panic to relief. “Dean? Oh, Dean.”
“Don’t worry. I was looking for you when Metatron zapped you here,” Dean explained, as he suddenly realized why Cas was upset.
“Metatron?” asked Cas, looking around. The archangel was nowhere to be seen.
“Huh. She must have zapped out.” Dean grabbed a couple of Cas’s belt loops and tugged him nearer. He looked his angel up and down: brand new suit looking like it needed a pressing, tie hopelessly askew, and hair sticking every which way. “How do you do this? You looked fine when we left the motel this morning.” Dean reached up and carefully straightened the tie, finishing up with a kiss.
“Kali’s son Ganesha says I possess a rumpled aura!” Cas told him.
“What? Anyway, I was thinking we could zap Sammy home, he seems pretty wasted-“
“DEAN!”
Sam sputtered awake at Odin’s bellow, blinking around in confusion.
“Yeah, Odin,” said Dean.
“I need a favor, son.”
Dean shrugged. “Anything.”
“Metatron, she's getting itchy feet again, so now that the danger posed by Azrael has diminished, she's going to take off on another tour of the universe.”
“Hey, I was just talking to her. Sounds cool.”
Odin stood tall and beamed. “And she's invited me along.”
“Odin!” said Dean, holding up his hand. Odin high-fived him. “Dude. Good work.”
Odin leaned forward, clapping Dean on the shoulder in a conspiratorial manner. “But there is one thing. We might be gone a while, and as you know, things are still a bit up in the air. There's still angels out there, loyal to Azrael, and I expect they'll be up to some mischief.”
“I think Cas and I … and my brother, we'll take care of things.”
“I consider it my obligation, Odin,” said Cas.
“I'm thinking a little more selfishly.” Odin spread his arms out wide. “I'm thinking of my kingdom: of Valhalla. I couldn't countenance running off without, well, having a steady hand in charge. Much like Lord Yamaraja knew Naraka would be in good hands with Vibhishana.”
Sam sat forward, blearily rubbing his eyes. “Wait, Odin, are you asking my brother-”
“Now!” Odin interrupted, waving a hand. “I know you're undecided about all this transformation, Dean. I can well understand. But think of this, what if you just try it on for size, while I'm away? And if it doesn't work out, when I come back, we'll puzzle out a way to get you back to where you were.”
“Huh,” said Dean.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Odin? Can we get this in writing?”
“So that will be acceptable, Dean?” pleaded Odin.
Dean looked around at Sam.
“Go ahead,” grumbled Sam. “You know you want to.” Dean bounced up and down on his toes, nodding furiously.
“Thank you, Dean. Now I know the place will be in good hands.” Odin grinned and strode off.
Dean collapsed into a chair, and then yanked Cas down to sit in his lap. Cas looked bewildered for a moment, and then relaxed contentedly into Dean. It was awfully cute. And completely annoying.
“I don’t believe you, Dean. Now you’re housesitting Valhalla?” Sam croaked.
Dean was using his fingers to bring a sense of order to Cas’s perpetually mussed hair. “Aw, Sammy, you heard him! It’s just for a little while.”
Sam glared at Dean. “And what do gods consider ‘a little while?’”
Some years down the road….
Sam stared down from the front porch at the child with the wide green eyes clinging to Cas’s hand. “The girls are around in back,” he said.
“Gabriel, would you like to go see your cousins?” Cas asked the boy. The child nodded enthusiastically, and Cas, with a slight inclination of his head to Sam, led him around to the back yard.
Sam shook his head. The boy had shown up some years previous to this, as a babe in Cas’s arms. Dean had explained that Cas had been thinking very hard about a child, and subsequently had developed a migraine headache. After a few days had passed, Cas’s head had split open and the baby had appeared. And the process was every bit as sloppy and disgusting as it had sounded.
Vibhishana had simply explained that sometimes, when you were talking of gods, these things happened. Which didn't sound much like an explanation at all, but Sam had read enough mythology to know that it was correct. Bibi sent over Kali’s son, Ganesha, who aside from being Lord of Hosts and God of Beginnings was also an Oxford-educated medical doctor (in a previous incarnation), and something of an expert on angel physiology. After he'd gotten Cas’s head safely patched up and the angel had returned, more or less, to his senses, Ganesha had pronounced both father and son to be in perfect health. And Dean, once he was over fretting about Cas, rather enthusiastically accepted the child as his own. As it was, the tow-headed, green eyed and freckle-faced boy gave every evidence that somehow, though Sam didn’t really like to speculate how, he was indeed Dean’s true-born son.
Who happened to be part angel.
And part pagan god.
And all Winchester.
As for Cas, from then on, and upon Dr. Ganesha's advice, he attempted to stop thinking too deeply about children.
Sam reached into a cooler and dug out a couple of beers, one of which he handed over to his brother. Sam and Dean sat down on the porch steps, enjoying the frosty beverages. Sam also pulled out a shrink-wrapped CD from his pocket and tossed it at Dean. “From Garth,” he explained.
Dean eyed the cover, showing a handsome young Asian man poised over a cello. “Kevin's done good for himself. Did you listen?”
“We're not super big on classical, but I figured you could play it for Odin. When he gets back. If he gets back.”
“He'll get back,” smiled Dean. “We got a postcard from him and Mets. From Betelgeuse.”
Sam frowned over his beer. “OK, how to you send a postcard from Betelgeuse?”
“Put a stamp on it, drop it on the box.”
Sam regarded his brother, wondering when these kinds of conversations had become commonplace. Probably no worse than debating how to gank a revenant, he supposed. “Anyway. Thanks for the help assembling the swing set last night,” said Sam, arching his back. “It was a great surprise for them.”
“Hey, any time,” smiled his brother. “My nieces are cute. Even though my brother is still a bitch.”
“Jerk.”
“The kids like it?”
“I can’t get ‘em off it.”
“How’s the law practice going?”
“Well, the swing set was part of the fee for the last class action. And I think I can finish paying off the mortgage.”
“Sweet.” Dean paused. He side-eyed his brother. “And … the divorce?”
Sam stared across the lawn. “Should be final when we sign the next round of papers.”
“Well. That’s … good, right?”
Sam shook his head. Really, he'd said all he could say, and more. And Dean had been there, god love him, every time he needed to vent or cry into his beer. “The apple pie life? It’s not exactly … simple.” Dean nodded sympathetically. “Anyway, what about you?”
“Aw, same old same old.” Dean tipped back a beer. “Uncovered another flock of rogue angels.”
“Dean!” said Sam.
“It's all good. Cas had Alfie go talk to them.”
“He … Samandriel talked to them, Dean?”
“Yeah, the little guy.... Who knew? I always thought he was wasted at the Wiener Hut.” He grinned. “Anyway, I think they're all heading to the studio for wing tattoos.”
“You give that chick a lot of business.”
“Yeah, I think she's opening a franchise. She asked me for your card.” Dean suddenly paused as the unmistakable sound of his firstborn's name came drifting on the wind. “Uh-oh,” he said, as he and Sam grabbed beer bottles and headed around to the back.
“Gabriel!” scolded Cas.
The child stared up, batting lovely green eyes at Cas, while his cousins, darling chestnut-haired twin girls, sped around and squealed behind him, chasing little flickering pastel-colored butterflies which popped like soap bubbles as the girls caught them.
“What's going on with your son?” Dean asked Cas.
“He's my son now?” asked Cas, wheeling on Dean. “I didn't teach him that.”
“Uh. I may have, actually,” Dean confessed.
“And you know it's impossible for me to properly discipline him when he looks … like that.”
Dean grinned and grabbed his son, slinging him on a hip. “Yeah, that look. He gets that from his uncle.”
Sam produced a face that was much the opposite of the puppy dog eyes. “Now it’s my fault?”
“I think we can blame you,” said Dean.
“Yes, that sounds reasonable,” Cas dead-panned.
Sam threw a small bitchface, just for good measure, at his nephew. He thought for not the first time that the boy looked like Cas with Dean’s coloring, though he acted far too much like his namesake. He just really hoped the boy didn't grow up to act like Uncle Lucifer. Did other people have to worry about stuff like this? Seriously. “Maybe we should head inside. There's pie.”
“What? Really?” scoffed Dean.
“One of the benefits of the apple pie lifestyle. There is really pie inside,” said Sam.
“There is never really pie, Sam.”
“And ice cream, Sam?” asked Cas, his tone gone dreamy.
“Garbage gut,” said Dean, throwing an arm around Cas and giving him a kiss on the temple.
“And ice cream too. Let's go inside,” said Sam, taking the hands of two giggling little girls, and leading the whole motley bunch inside the quiet house behind the white picket fence.
