Hello my lovelies! Welcome back! And for those of you that are new, I suggest reading the first story, Hunters and Time. This is the sequel! Things won't really make sense unless you read the first story before this one. Super long chapter for your first, but usually the chapters will be between 4,000 to 5,000 in length.
The title of this story comes from a The Vamps song that I have been listening to constantly haha.:D
As always, not beta'd, and I own nothing but Miss Hazel and Peter.
Supernatural episode Sympathy for the Devil. Please review!
Chapter One: Aftermath
"Who are you three?" a British woman I've never met before snaps, and my eyes dart open to look at her in shock.
"I could ask you the same thing," I breathe, trying to catch my breath and composing myself. I ignore the brunette for a moment and instead focus on my boys. "Dean, Sam, you okay?"
"Do I look okay to you, Hazel?" Dean retorts from his spot flat on the floor.
"You're fine," I chuckle. "Sam?"
"Alive. I think," he answers, also lying on his back on the floor.
"'You think'? Are you two trying to give me a double heart attack? Oh, I hate you both."
"No, you don't," they quickly deny.
I roll my eyes at my boys and pull myself up, taking in my surroundings. New desktop theme. Cool. Like the blue, and the Gallifreyan at the top with Dad's past companion's names.
"Hazel, you okay?" Dean calls.
"May have been a bit overzealous with the death of hell bitch but I'm fine," I try to reassure him. "Oi, British human I don't know. Where's the Doctor?"
"Around somewhere, why?" she answers cautiously.
"What's your name?" I brush off, carefully piloting us into the Time Vortex and keeping a grip on the console so I stay upright. Not even in the Time Vortex can an angel or a demon find us, which is the point.
"Clara, Clara Oswald."
"The lumps on the floor over there are Sam and Dean Winchester," I point them out. "I'm Hazel."
"Nice to meet you; uh, how did you get in here?"
"The TARDIS let me in," I explain simply. "Dean, we're flying!"
"Son of a bitch!" he swears, immediately wrapping himself around a railing. "What kind of girlfriend are you?"
"The best one," I answer cheekily as a glass of hypervodka appears on the console. "Oh, bless you, old girl." I quickly down the shot and the glass disappears.
"Thank you, beautiful," Dean raises his beer at the time ship before busting the cap off with his ring and taking a healthy drink.
"Uh, thanks," Sam says hesitantly, taking his own swig. I roll my eyes but smile fondly at my boys.
"So," I turn back to Clara Oswald, "you said the Doctor was around?"
"Somewhere, not sure where. Why?"
"Is he perhaps with a woman named River Song?"
"Who?"
"Never mind," I wave off sweetly.
"Look, I don't mean to be rude, but who exactly are you three?"
"Well, those two are human-"
"And proud!" Dean interrupts, and I roll my eyes.
"Thank you, sweetheart. Yes, they're human like you -not like tha's a bad thing-, an' I'm the Doctor's daughter. But I think we're still fighting about something, so, unless he sees me, I'm not here."
"Oh-kay," she says slowly. "The Doctor has a daughter?"
"And a son, but that's a story for another time. How long have you known him?"
"Oh, about a day," she laughs. "Is it always this crazy?"
"Yes," I answer without hesitation. "But runnin' for your life is only half the fun, Clara Oswald."
"Don't listen to her, she's crazy."
"Oi! Like you don't love it!" I protest my boyfriend, and he cracks a smile. I don't know how or why, but that reminds me of something. I move back to the console and programme settings to go to Chuck's house. "Dean, we need to make sure Cassie and Chuck are okay," I change my attitude.
"Shit, you're right," he agrees.
"Alright, Sam, no more of your mopin'," I order. "Y'hear me? Cut that out."
"Okay," he says dejectedly and with a sense of giving up. They may both be my boys and I do care for them very much, but Samuel Winchester should not mope around for being deceived and having good intentions. Yes, the road to hell is paved with them, but who am I to judge? I probably would've done the same thing, if I were him.
"Now, I don't expect you two to kiss an' make up just yet, but I do expect you to be nice to each other."
The TARDIS chirps at me mentally, telling me to be careful in her own way.
"I will," I promise softly before raising my voice to a normal speaking level. "Right, we've got a, um, thing to take care of," I tell Clara. "Very important thing, might take all day. If my dad asks, we were never here. The TARDIS will take you to wherever you were going before making a slight detour. Nice to meet you, Clara Oswald," I smile before shooing my boys out ans shutting the blue doors behind me.
"Was-was-was that-"
"Yes, Chuck, that was the TARDIS," I answer as she disappears. "What the ruddy hell happened here?" His whole house is in ruins! Well, okay, maybe exaggerating. The structure is still there, the furniture and decorations and the like are either broken or moved around and damaged.
"Sam... you're okay?" he ignores me.
"What do you mean?" Sam asks.
"My-my last vision. You went, like, full-on Vader. Your body temperature was one-fifty. Your heart rate was two hundred. Your eyes were black."
"Your eyes were black?" Dean interrupts.
"I didn't know," Sam says innocently.
"Hey, uh, Chuck, where's Castiel?" I ask.
"He's dead. Or gone. The archangel smote the crap out of him. I'm sorry. I know how close you were to him, Hazel," he answers apologetically.
"You're sure? I mean, maybe he just vanished into the light or something," Dean suggests, wrapping an arm around me.
"Oh, no. He, like, exploded. Like a water balloon of chunky soup."
"Hey, Chuck, you've got a, uh-" Sam says, gesturing to his own ear.
"Uh...right here?" he asks.
"No, uh," Sam points to the other side of his head.
Oh my god.
There's a molar in his hair.
"I-I-I have to go o-outside for a minute," I stammer before darting out the door into the middle of the street and kneeling down, balancing on the balls of my feet and my hands clenching my bright red hair tight to my scalp as I try desperately to get a handle on myself. It was all too much: Sam breaking out of the panic room, Sam and Dean physically fighting, my human almost dying and having to save him (will totally have to ask Mum about that later, I'd love to know how I could actually do that), losing my human, going to bloody UNIT of all places, finding my human, escaping thanks to Cassie, being forced to leave Cassie at Chuck's by said angel himself, trying to get to Sam before he can kill Lilith and failing miserably, freezing hell bitch's movements so my Dean could kill her, Lucifer being released onto the earth (and if my dad finds out, he'll take me away for sure), the TARDIS coming to our rescue, meeting my dad's new companion (which means something happens to Rory and Amy), and now finding out that my oldest friend has been killed by his own kind.
I never thought I'd say it, but these have been the longest hours of all my lives.
And it's not going to be over any time soon. I know that for a fact.
God, I wish I had a smoke.
I haven't smoked in years, but whenever I do, it's my way of dealing with really hard times. Last time I lit a cigarette, it was when Peter died. I wonder if he would be proud of the woman I've become. He had more human in him than I do, so he matured faster than I did. I didn't approve of any of his girlfriends, based solely on the fact that they took his time and attention away from me, but I wonder if he would approve of Dean if he was still alive.
Probably not.
My dad doesn't like my human, much, either. Apparently I'm 'in too much danger' being with him. I told him that I didn't care and that I was old enough to make my own damn decisions, and then proceeded to march out of the TARDIS and seal her doors shout behind me. That was Christmas Day, a little under three months ago, but I don't regret the fact that we haven't spoken or seen each other since. My father means well, he's just very suffocating towards me. And three months isn't even that long, in all honesty. I do talk to my mother frequently, though. She won't blow up in my face if I tell her that I either killed something or got wounded and can't heal myself. She might get a bit mad, but River Song shares my love of dangerous and exciting adventure; my dad I'm sure would rather lock me in the TARDIS never to return. And I really don't want that to happen.
I rise from my crouch in the middle of the road after an impatient mother in a maroon minivan honks at me twice, and decide to head back inside to Chuck's house, tying my hair in a tight ponytail at the nape of my neck to keep it out of my way. As soon as I walk through the front door, though, I'm grabbed by a dick with wings who holds me tight to his chest and an angel blade at my throat.
"Hiya, time brat," Zachariah smiles sweetly, menacingly, as his second henchman holds Dean back by gripping his arm tight. "Now, now, Dean-o, wouldn't want to do anything rash, would we?"
"You sons of bitches jump-started judgement day!" Dean snaps at him.
"Seriously need a smoke," I rasp out.
"Maybe we let it happen. We didn't start anything. Right, Sammy?" he winks. "You had a chance to stop your brother, and you couldn't. So let's not quibble over who started what."
"Leave them alone," I hiss, and the angel holding me tightens his grip around my throat, leaving me completely unable to breathe.
"Watch your tone, mutt. You have no say in this," he snaps.
"Don't talk to her like that," Dean says darkly and threateningly. "And let her go."
"Let's just say it was all our faults and move on," Zachariah ignores him. "'Cause like it or not, it's Apocalypse Now. And we're back on the same team again."
"Is that so? If we're on the same team, then why are you holding my girlfriend hostage?"
Zachariah makes a motion with his hand and the angel holding me drops me onto the floor, leaving me gasping for breath. Dean's immediately at my side, helping me to stand and move away from the dicks with wings. I notice his hand is bleeding but say nothing.
"You okay?" he asks, wiping away the bit of blood the bastard managed to draw with his blade from my neck.
"Breathless," I admit, taking in deep breaths and coughing repeatedly. Yes, I have a respiratory bypass, but it doesn't work as well as it should. I'm not full Time Lord. My little bit of human throws everything off.
"You want to kill the Devil. We want you to kill the Devil. It's," Zachariah continues as if nothing happened, "synergy."
"And I'm just supposed to trust you?" Dean says incredulously, holding me tight to his side (I definitely don't complain). "Cram it with walnuts, ugly."
"This isn't a game, son. Lucifer is powerful in ways that defy description. We need to strike now, hard and fast, before he finds his vessel."
"His vessel? Lucifer needs a meat suit?" Sam asks.
"He's an angel," I croak.
"Them's the rules," Zachariah finishes. "And when he touches down, we're talking Four Horsemen, red oceans, fiery skies- the greatest hits. You can stop him, Dean, but you need our help."
"You stay away from my boys," I snap, my voice coming back to normal with every word spoken.
"You don't power over a thing, here, missy."
"You listen to me, you two-faced douche," Dean starts. "After what you did, I don't want jack squat from you!"
"You listen to me, boy! You think you can rebel against us? As Lucifer did?" he roars before looking to Dean's hand. "You're bleeding."
"Oh, yeah. A little insurance policy in case you dicks showed up." Dean lets me go to slide one of Chuck's white doors out and slams his hand on the sigil, and the three angels disappear. "Learned that from my friend, Cas, you son of a bitch," he says to the air. I can feel the shallow wound on my neck closing up as I reach for some paper towels on the counter to press around Dean's bloody hand.
"This sucks ass," Chuck speaks up. I roll my eyes, knowing he's right, but busy myself with helping my human.
"Why are you always taking care of me?" Dean asks me softly.
"Because I like to," I tell him simply, and he lets me do just that.
"Hi, Sammy," I smile at him when Dean refuses to acknowledge his brother as he walks into the motel room and instead focuses intently on the gun he's loading.
"Hey, Haze. Hey, Dean," he adds but gets no response. Sam eventually gives up and tosses us each hex bags before standing on the side of the room.
"Hex bags?" I ask curiously.
"No way the angels will find us with those. Demons, either, for that matter," he explains.
"Woo hoo, point for Samster," I smile, and he cracks one in return.
"Where'd you get it?" Dean asks gruffly, still not chancing a look at his brother, and Sam's smile drops.
"I, uh, I made it," Sam answers.
"How?"
He hesitates. "Uh, I... I learned it from, uh, Ruby."
I may not have liked the bitch (she did try to kill me once before, but it was me that helped my Dean kill her), but she knew her stuff.
"Speaking of. How you doing? Are you jonesing for another hit of bitch blood or what?" Dean asks, faking disinterest. I think Sam knows this, too; that he's faking, that is.
"I-it's weird. Uh, tell you the truth, I'm fine. No shakes, no fever. It's like... I don't even know," he answers honestly. "I don't know, man."
It falls silent again, and I itch to do something productive, but I don't know what. I could fix my vortex manipulator? When I tried to get to Dean yesterday, the angels set up some sort of force field preventing time and space travels. I literally bounced off it and landed on my arse, and that was not fun. Anyway, because of that force field or whatever, my manipulator's shot. Which means I have to go in and repair everything. Oh, joy.
Pulling out my little repair kit, I walk over to the table Dean is occupying and proceed to take half. Then, I undo the zipper on the side and unroll the brown package, revealing the many tiny (normal and not sonic) screwdrivers, wrenches, and spare nuts and screws and wires, all in their own little clear pouches. I unstrap my beloved manipulator and unscrew the back plate so I can get into the circuitry.
"Dean-"
"Sam."
Well, at least they're talking to each other now.
"It's okay. You don't have to say anything," Dean waves off.
"Well, that's good. Because what can I even say? 'I'm sorry'? 'I screwed up'? Doesn't really do it justice, you know? Look, there's nothing I can do or say that will ever make this right-"
"So why do you keep bringing it up?" he yells, rising abruptly from his chair.
"Don't shout, sweetheart," I tell him. "We have neighbours."
He sits back down in his chair and watches my movements intensely.
"Look, all I'm saying is, why do we have to put this under a microscope? We made a mess. We clean it up. That's it," he says simply. "So, say this is just any other hunt. You know? What do we do first?"
"We'd, uh, we'd figure out where the thing is," Sam answers.
"Alright. So we just got to find... the devil."
It falls silent again and Sam pulls out his father's journal and takes a seat on the bed.
"Boys," I call, and I feel a set of green eyes and a set of brown ones on me. "I am not going to play mediator, understand? I am not going to get in the middle. Do not bring me in the middle. You can be pissed at each other all you like; I don't care about that. Just, try not to be intentionally malicious or overly hurtful, and no physical injuries. Do you understand?"
"Yeah," Sam says in a small voice.
"Yeah, okay," Dean agrees in an even small voice.
"I don't expect you to kiss and make up right this mo', though I wish you would. But Dean, Sam didn't know. He was manipulated by hell bitch. An', Sam, this would've happened either way. You heard what Zachariah said, they 'let' it happen. Don't beat yourself up too terribly about it."
Satisfied with my words, I turn back to my vortex manipulator and bury my fingers in its inner workings.
We all have our own ways of busying ourselves. Sam and I haven't moved in the last hour, but Dean gave up and went to watch some telly.
"How would you then explain an earthquake, a hurricane, and multiple tornadoes, all at the same time, all around the globe?"
"Two words. Carbon emissions."
"Yeah, right, wavy gravy," he tells the man and woman on the television.
"They can't hear you, sweetheart," I chirp, and he turns to look at me.
"Hypocrite. You yell at the T.V. all the time," he accuses fondly.
"If you put on some Criminal Minds then I'll really yell."
"Nope. No procedural cop show dramas," he quickly shoots me down, and I roll my eyes fondly.
"Well, I don't like you, either," I joke, and he takes no offence at it. "Seriously, though, if you watched the prank war episode between Reid and Morgan, you'd probably fall in love."
"Yeah, I doubt it, Hazelnut."
"M'tellin' you. S'awesome."
Someone knocking at the door interrupts our little conversation, and Dean draws his gun.
"I got it," Sam decides, cautiously going to the door and answering it with a, "You okay, lady?" after a moment or two of weird breathing.
"Sam... is it really you?" she asks. He turns his head and mouths 'help' to me and Dean. The woman walks closer to him and places a hand on his chest. "And you're so firm."
"Uh, do I know you?" he asks when he's sure I won't come to his rescue.
"No. But I know you. You're Sam Winchester. And you're, not what I pictured," she says, looking at Dean who has carefully concealed his firearm. "Who the hell are you?" she looks at me.
"I'm Dean's girlfriend; who the hell are you?" I mock her American accent and copy her question. She scowls.
"I'm Becky," she pushes her way into the room and Sam lets her. "Dean Winchester doesn't have a girlfriend."
"Yeah, actually, he does, and I'm standin' right here." I cross my arms and move more towards my man.
"Then why aren't you in any of the books?" Becky retorts.
"Because I come in later," I say just as snippy, and Dean stands and wraps an arm around me.
"I read all about you guys. And I've even written a few, uh," she giggles before turning serious again. "Anyway, Mr. Edlund told me where you were."
"Wonderful, he'll be gettin' an angry phone call," I say darkly, and she glares at me.
"He's got a message, but he's being watched. Angels. Nice change-up to the mythology, by the way. The demon stuff was getting kind of old."
Oh my god I can't stand her. I just can't.
"Right. Just, um, what's the message?" Sam asks, trying to diffuse the tension.
"He had a vision. 'The Michael sword is on earth. The angels lost it.'"
"The Michael sword?" Dean repeats sceptically.
"Becky, does he know where it is?" Sam asks.
"In a castle, on a hill made of forty-two dogs."
"Forty-two dogs?" I ask incredulously, planning Chuck and Becky's murders. Sherlock, if he's not still terribly pissed at me, would be proud. "Did you get that right?" Vat of acid for her, maybe...
"It doesn't make sense, but that's what he said," she says confidently, stepping closer to Sam. "I memorized every word. For you." She places a hand on his chest.
"Um, Becky, c- uh, can you... quit touching me?"
"No."
No. Vat of acid would be too easy for her.
"Great, message delivered. Buh-bye now," I yank on her arm rudely, push her out the door, and slam it shut. "What?" I protest when both boys are smiling at me. "I don't like her."
"Yeah, and it shows."
"Bite your tongue, Dean Winchester."
He does, quite literally, and I smack him.
Another knock on the door.
"If that is Becky, I will shoot her," I vow, taking Dean's pistol from the waistband of his jeans and going to answer the door. "Oh. Hiya, Uncle Bobby."
"Good to see you kids all in one piece," he says, hugging all of us in turn. Bit weird. I mark it off to just nerves, but something has me wondering...
"You weren't followed, were you?" Dean asks.
"You mean by angels, demons, or Sam's new superfan?"
"You heard," Sam scoffs with a smile.
"Oh, I heard, Romeo. So. Sword of Michael, huh?"
"You think we're talking about the actual sword form the actual archangel?" Dean asks sceptically.
"You better friggin' hope so," Bobby scoffs.
"Why?" I ask curiously, and he makes a trip to Dean's Impala he brought over for us and bringing in a book. He opens it to a painting of Michael beating the crap out of a bunch of other angels. Or, at least, that's what it looks like to me.
"That's Michael. Toughest sumbitch they got."
"You kidding me? Tough?" Dean asks as Sam flips through the books to see more paintings. "That guy looks like Cate Blanchett."
Nope. No idea who Cate Blanchett is, if you were wondering.
"Well, I wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley, believe me," Bobby says earnestly. "He commands the Heavenly Host. During the last big dust-up upstairs, he's the one who booted Lucifer's ass to the basement. Did it with that sword. So if we can find it-"
"We can kick the Devil's ass all over again," Sam finishes. "Alright, so, where do we start?"
"Divvy up and start reading- try and make sense of Chuck's nonsense."
"Bobby, are you feeling okay?" I ask as Sam heads for another stack of books.
"Fine, Hazel, why?"
"You're actin'... off."
"Dunno what you mean," he waves off. "Hey, Sam? You alright?"
"No, actually. Bobby, this is all my fault. I'm sorry."
"Sam," Dean says sharply.
"Lilith did not break the final seal. Lilith was the final seal."
"Sam, stop it."
"I killed her, and I set Lucifer free."
"You what?" Bobby exclaims.
"You guys warned me about Ruby, the demon blood, but I didn't listen. I brought this on."
"Samuel Winchester, if you continue on this self-depreciating way of speakin', I will slap you," I threaten. Bobby rises from his chair, mouth parted, and looks incredulously at the younger Winchester.
"You're damn right you didn't listen. You were reckless and selfish and arrogant."
"I'm sorry," Sam apologises weakly.
"Oh, yeah? You're sorry you started Armageddon? This kind of thing don't get forgiven, boy. If, by some miracle, we pull this off... I want you to lose my number. You understand me?"
"Knock it off, Bobby Singer!" I snap.
"Why are you defending him?" he snaps right back at me.
"An' why wouldn't I?"
"He kick-started Armageddon!"
"Your 'Armageddon' was unavoidable! Jesus Christ, Bobby, that is Sam!"
"There's an old church nearby. Maybe I'll go read some of the lore books there," Sam says softly, gathering books to take with him.
"Yeah. You do that," Bobby snaps.
"Samster-"
"It's okay, Hazel," he says, and I let him go against my better judgement.
Something is seriously wrong, but I'm not sure what yet. And Dean stays silent through the whole ordeal. I sigh loudly and angrily and tell Dean I'm going out.
"Where?" he asks.
"Not to Sam, if that's what you're wondering. He asked me not to," I roll my eyes. I don't like fighting between my two boys. "I'm going to a mini mart."
I picked up a pack of smokes and a lighter. Dean, actually, doesn't mind my smoking, and instead of protesting, takes one and lights it up.
"I never woulda guessed that your daddy was right," Bobby says abruptly while we're researching.
"About what?"
"About your brother."
I look up at Bobby in shock.
"What John said- you save Sam or kill him. Maybe..."
"Maybe what?"
"Maybe we shouldn't have tried so hard to save him."
"Bobby."
"He ended the world, Dean. And we weren't strong enough to stop him proper. That's on us. I'm just saying, your dad was right."
Alarm bells! Listen to the damn alarm bells, Hazel!
"Dad," Dean says, connecting something or other and darts over to his duffel to rummage through it.
"What is it, sweetheart?"
"It's got to be in here somewhere." He pulls out a plastic bag filled with business cards and starts going through them.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Bobby asks from his spot at the table.
"Here," he pulls out a card successfully, chuckling. "I don't believe it. I don't believe it."
"What the hell is it?" Bobby asks again, standing as Dean walks over to us.
"It's a card for my dad's lockup in upstate New York."
I take it from his hand and read it. "'Castle Storage. Forty-two Rover Hill.'"
"Castle on a hill of forty-two dogs," he quotes the crazy lady, and I smile.
"So you think your dad had the Michael sword all this time?" Bobby questions. I don't know, there's just something off about Bobby. I can't tell what just yet, but there's definitely something.
"I don't know. I'm not sure what else Chuck could have meant."
"Yeah. Okay. It's good enough for me."
Something's not right!
"Hey, uh, Uncle Bobby?" I call.
"Yeah, kid?"
"Christo," I say, and immediately his eyes flash black and he smiles maliciously.
"Aw, hell," he says sarcastically. "You got me." The demon springs on Dean, knocking him through the barrier that separates the kitchen and the beds and flat on the floor, where he then yanks him up and slams him down again. Then, he grabs him by the throat as two other demons come in and the male one holds me by my throat. I figured it was coming and had ample time to fill my lungs and my bypass so I'd be better off than last time.
"I always knew you were a big, dumb, slow, dim pain in the ass, Dean. But I never dreamt you were so V.I.P.," the woman demon says, picking up the demon killing knife off the table. "I mean, you're gonna ice the devil? You? If I'd have known that, I'd have ripped your pretty, pretty face off ages ago."
"Ruby," Dean tries. But that wouldn't make any sense, would it? Dean killed her.
"Try again. Go back further."
"Meg?"
"Hi," she smiles. "These are the days of miracle and wonder, Dean. Our father's among us. You know we're all dreaming again for the first time since we were human? It's heaven on earth. Or hell. We really owe your brother a fruit basket."
"You like the sound of your own voice, don'tcha?" I croak out before the demon tightens his grip, completely cutting off my airway.
"Well, lookie here. It's the alien mutt," Meg turns and smiles at me. "What would big brother say if you knew you were fucking a human? What would Dean's daddy say if he knew his son was fucking a creature?" She spits that last word at me, and I lunge to kick her but the demon holds me flush to his body. Goddamn, I've got to stop this from happening next time. "But you, on the other hand," she continues, turning back to Dean, "you're the only bump in the road. So every demon -every single one- is just dying for a piece of you."
"Get in line," he says cockily.
"Oh, I'm in the front of the line, baby. Let's ride." My anger hits a boiling point when that bitch kisses my human. He doesn't kiss back, which makes me slightly better, but I'm still gonna tear her limb from limb.
"Sorry, sweetcheeks, but I've got a girlfriend," he winks, spitting the taste of her out of his mouth and onto the floor.
"You know, your surrogate daddy's still awake, screaming in there," Meg says, matter-of-fact. "And I want him to know how it feels slicing the life out of you." She hands the knife to the demon inside Bobby, and he raises it to Dean's throat.
"Bobby!" Dean tries to snap him out of it. I stomp hard on the demon's foot and he releases his hold on my throat just enough.
"Uncle Bobby, I know you're in there!" I shout before the demon can close my windpipe. "Don't let it hurt Dean!"
"Now!" Meg snaps.
"Bobby! No!" Dean tries one last time as Bobby raises the knife. Oh, Jesus Christ and the sweet Mother of the Goddess. Bobby takes control and stabs himself in the abdomen instead of Dean, effectively killing the demon but putting his own life in jeopardy. I scream, well, it sounds more like a squeak, in terror.
I have to get away from this demon and help my human and Bobby. So, I let my legs fall out from under me and go boneless, effectively loosening the demon's grip on me. He falters and I kick his legs away so he lands on his back. Scrambling towards the demon killing knife, he grabs my ankle and pulls me back, and I kick him in the face. He releases me again and I manage to grab the knife and stab his arm. When that doesn't work, I get him right in the ribs, then, as I'm about to throw it at Meg, she smokes out.
"Fuck, I was so close!" I swear, then join Sam (when did he get here?) at Bobby's side. "Bobby, look at me," I frame his face with my hands and make him do just that. "You're gonna be okay, get me?"
"Yeah," he says weakly.
I've known Bobby for years and there is no way in any available or occupied microscopic crevice of this universe that he is going to die today. Not only will I not allow it, but he can survive from that injury.
I know my Uncle Bobby, the one that took me in, no questions asked when I was very small and needed a place to stay, would be okay. I pull out a cigarette from my pack and light it, pulling in the smoke and holding it in my lungs before blowing it out in Dean's car. Smoking wouldn't kill me the way it would a human; my accelerated healing would stop anything right in its tracks.
God, it has been a stressful couple of days. And it's not over yet. I knew Dean didn't want to do it, but we had to follow that lead before the demons could. The 'Michael Sword' or whatever the hell it was called (I didn't particularly care) could help us kill Lucifer.
"They took Bobby into surgery," Dean says as he climbs into the car and pulls the door shut. Sam climbs in the back and cracks a window. I just roll my eyes and blow out more smoke. My human peels out of the parking lot and screeches onto the road, easily breaking about a million traffic laws, but I don't blame him.
"Bobby'll be okay," I tell him.
"I know," he says gruffly. Throwing the dead cigarette butt out the window, I curl up closer to Dean and he throws an arm around me. "I think that Sam left them your number."
"Really?" I turn around to look at Sam, and he nods.
"You're easier to reach than we are," Sam says simply. I blow him an air kiss in thanks and slowly fall asleep on Dean's shoulder. That man is like my own personal pillow, and I don't think he minds too much, to be honest.
Dean wakes me when we pull up to Castle Storage and hands me a sawed off shotgun. I stretch, rub my eyes, and carefully follow them into the storage room. There are about three dead demons sprawled out on the floor. They beat us here, but what killed them?
"I see you told the demons where the sword is."
Great. I turn around to glare at the dick with wings.
"Oh, thank god. The angels are here," Dean says sarcastically.
"I thought I smelled your stink around here," I sneer. "Cockiness and desperation."
"And to think," Zachariah continues, "they could have grabbed it any time they wanted." With his stupid angel 'mojo', as my boys call it, he pulls the door shut, trapping us here. "It was right in front of them."
"What do you mean?" Sam asks cautiously.
"We may have planted that particular piece of prophecy inside Chuck's skull, but it happened to be true. We did lose the Michael sword. We truly couldn't find it. Until now," the bastard smiles. When he smiles, it is not comforting. It's actually kind of scary. "You've just hand-delivered it to us."
"We don't have anything," Dean informs the dick.
"It's you, chucklehead. You're the Michael sword."
Oh, son of a bitch.
"What, you thought you could actually kill Lucifer? You simpering wad of insecurity and self-loathing?" I may or may not have verbally growled at that, but, hey. My human. "No," Zachariah continues. "You're just a human, Dean. And not much of one."
"Humans can do anything they put their minds to," I argue with malice in my voice. "Dean an' Sam Winchester especially."
"What do you mean, I'm 'the sword'?" Dean snaps.
"You're Michael's weapon," he says simply. "Or, rather, his... receptacle."
"I'm a vessel?"
"You're the vessel. Michael's vessel."
"How? Why-why me?"
"Because you're chosen! It's a great honour, Dean."
"Oh, yeah," he retorts sarcastically. "Yeah, life as an angel condom. That's real fun." I have to bite back a small smile at my man's sass. "I think I'll pass, thanks."
"Joking. Always joking. Well," the angel mutters, pissed. "No more jokes." He makes a gun with his fingers and aims it at Sam. "Bang."
"God!" Sam groans as Zachariah breaks his knee.
"You son of a bitch!" Dean fumes while I bend down to check on Sam.
"Keep mouthing off, I'll break more than his legs," the angel threatens.
"Heal him," I order, malice in my tone. "Now."
"I am completely and utterly through screwing around."
"So am I!"
"The war has begun. We don't have our general. That's bad. Now, Michael is going to take his vessel and lead the final charge against the adversary. You understand me?"
"You started this war," I bite. "Sucks you don't have your general. But your precious Michael is not going to take Dean, and you are going to fix Sam. Right now. You understand me?"
"You should not be mocking me, little girl. You should be terrified."
"The only thing that scares me is Daleks."
"How many humans die in the crossfire, huh?" Dean demands. "A million? Five? Ten?"
"Probably more," Zachariah admits with no shame. "If Lucifer goes unchecked, you know how many die? All of them. He'll roast the planet alive."
"Then why don't you have your little death match on some abandoned planet somewhere?" I shout.
"Because it doesn't work that way!" he yells back. "This is our planet, too! We were created first!"
"There's a reason you're telling me this instead of just nabbing me," Dean says, connecting the dots. "You need my consent. Michael needs my say-so to ride around in my skin."
"Unfortunately, yes."
"Well, there's got to be another way."
"There is no other way. There must be a battle. Michael must defeat the Serpent. It is written."
"Yeah, maybe. But, on the other hand... eat me. The answer's no!"
"Okay. How about this? Your friend, Bobby- we know he's gravely injured. Uh, say yes, and we'll heal him. Say no, he'll never walk again."
"No."
"Then how about we heal you from... stage-four stomach cancer?"
Dean starts coughing and slumps to his knees, and immediately I'm at his side.
"No," he wheezes, mouth all bloody.
"Then let's get really creative. Uh, let's see how... Sam does without his lungs." Sam instantly gasps for air. "Are we having fun yet?"
"You sadistic son of a bitch," I spit at him, and he backhands me.
"You've got human in you, time brat. Let's see how you do when I stop one of your hearts." I feel my right heart slow and come to a stop, but that doesn't faze me one bit.
"Is that the best you've got?" I taunt. "Had problems with that one all my life, dick. M'used to it stopping on a whim."
"Doesn't matter. You're going to say yes, Dean."
"Just kill us," he coughs.
"Kill you? Oh, no. I'm just getting started."
All of a sudden, there's a bright white light as one of Zachariah's little henchmen is killed by non other than, Cassie?
"Cassie," I gasp happily. "Look out!" Another angel swings his blade and Cassie moves out of the way and kicks him into a wall. Then he punches him, and the other angel swings back and hits his mark. Cas cuts him and he groans, but he kicks his knife away as the other angel lunges at him. Cassie slams him into the grated wall again and into concrete as well. After gaining the upper hand, Castiel literally stabs him in the back.
"How are you..."
"Alive?" Cas finishes Zachariah's question. "That's a good question. How did Cara's spaceship know where to find them? Another good question. 'Cause the angels didn't do it. I think we both know the answer, don't we?"
"No. That's not possible."
"It scares you. Well, it should. Now, put these boys back together and go. I won't ask twice."
Zachariah flies away, Dean and Sam miraculously fine.
"I bloody love you, Castiel!" I beam, hopping up to wrap my arms around my friend. "An' I'm so glad you're okay."
"You three need to be more careful," he says, but he does crack a smile in my direction.
"Yeah, I'm starting to get that," Dean says. "Your frat brothers are bigger dicks than I thought."
"I don't mean the angels. Lucifer is circling his vessel. And once he takes it, those hex bags won't be enough to protect you." He steps towards us and places a hand on my boys' chests, and they groan.
"What the hell was that?" Dean asks in a strained tone.
"An Enochian sigil. It'll hide you from every angel in creation, including Lucifer."
"What, you just brand us with it?"
Cas moves to do the same for me but I stop him.
"Yeah, 'fore you do that, I need you to hit me really hard. Right here," I point to a spot on my back. "Gotta get my other heart beatin'." He hesitates. "Oh, c'mon, Cassie! You're not gonna hurt me, just help me out!" Castiel forms a fist and hits me where I asked, and my heart starts up again. "Oh, that's perfect! Tha's wonderful! How do you people cope with just one; I mean honestly."
Cassie shuts me up by branding the sigil into my ribs.
"To answer your question, Dean, no. I carved it into your ribs."
"Ooh, I can feel it, too," I press fingers into my ribcage.
"Hey, Cas, were you really dead?" Sam asks.
"Yes," he answers.
"Then how are you back?" Dean asks.
Cas says nothing and instead disappears.
"Tha's cheatin'!" I call, knowing he can hear me.
"'Unlikely to walk again'? Why, you snot-nosed son of a bitch! Wait till I get out of this bed!"
I bite back a small laugh as a doctor flees from Bobby's hospital room.
"I'll use my game leg and kick your friggen' ass!"
"You tell 'im, Uncle Bobby!"
"Yeah, you better run!"
"Don't encourage him," Dean orders, and I stick my tongue out at him.
"You believe that yahoo?" Bobby asks incredulously.
"Screw him, you'll be fine."
"So, let me ask the million-dollar question," Sam says. "What do we do now?"
"Well, we save as many as we can for as long as we can, I guess," Bobby answers. "It's bad. Whoever wins, Heaven or Hell, we're boned."
"Oi, no quitter talk," I order.
"Hey, that healing ability of yours only work for you, or..."
"I'm sorry, Uncle Bobby," I say apologetically, unshed tears in my eyes. "I could try, but I'd either kill you, kill me, or make you like Jack."
"It's okay, kid."
"I should've seen it sooner. I-I knew somethin' was off, but I couldn't place it."
"Kid. It's not your fault," Bobby says sternly. "I'll be fine."
I walk over to him and give him a hug, and he embraces me just as tight.
"What if we win?" Dean asks. "I'm serious. I mean, screw the angels and the demons and their shit Apocalypse. Like Hazel said back at the lockup, they want to fight a way, they can find their own planet. This one ours, and I say they get the hell off it. We take 'em all on. We kill the devil. Fuck, we even kill Michael if we have to, but we do it our own damn selves."
"And how are we supposed to do all this, genius?" Bobby pops his bubble.
"I got no idea. But what I do have is a G.E.D. and a 'give 'em hell' attitude, and I'll figure it out." I smile proudly at my human and he winks at me.
"You are nine kinds of crazy, boy."
"It's been said. Listen, you stay on the mend. We'll see you in a bit."
"Bye, Uncle Bobby," I kiss his cheek and follow Dean out.
"Sam?" Bobby stops him. I let the two have their moment and stay with Dean in the hallway. About a minute later, Sam walks out and we make our way to the parking lot in silence.
"You know, I was thinking, Dean- maybe we could go after the Colt," Sam suggests.
"Why? What difference would that make?" Dean asks.
"Well, we could use it on Lucifer. I mean, you just said back there-"
"I just said a bunch of crap for Bobby's benefit." Dean stops in the middle of the road to look at his brother. "I mean, I'll fight. I'll fight till the last man, but let's at least be honest. I mean, we don't stand a snowball's chance, and you know that. I mean, hell, you of all people know that."
"Dean. Is there something you wanna say to me?"
"I tried, Sammy. I mean, I really tried. But I just can't keep pretending that everything's all right. Because it's not. And it's never going to be. You chose a demon over your own brother and look what happened."
"I would give anything, anything to take it all back."
"I know you would. And I know how sorry you are. I do. But, man... you were the one that I depended on the most. And you let me down in ways that I can't even..." Dean struggles to look for the right word, but I stay out of it. "I'm just-I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting here. You know?"
"What can I do?"
"Honestly? Nothing."
Sam nods sadly.
"I just don't... I don't think that we can ever be what we were. You know? I just... I just don't think I can trust you."
Last nail in the coffin. Sam's face falls but Dean doesn't see it as he climbs in his precious Impala.
TBC
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