Book 26 - The Famous Final Scene

by GailDunn2

WARNING: Violence and adult content. The ultimate confrontation with Lucifer is imminent, but it will exact an expensive price. The God Squad is coming apart, and battle lines will be drawn, both in Heaven, and on Earth. Some lives will be lost, while others' will be changed forever.

1. The Farewell Tour

Chapter 1 - The Farewell Tour

Dean woke up hung over on the day before his death. His stomach was queasy, and his head was pounding. He sure couldn't drink like he used to, he thought. Then again, he thought wryly, after today, that fact would cease to matter.

Despite the situation, he'd had a good time last night. Just the immediate family, knocking back a few, telling war stories, both old and new. They'd laughed a lot, and they'd even cried a little. But mostly, they had laughed. He and Sammy had reached way down into the vault for some of the more classic stories. Some of them, even Bobby hadn't heard before. Jody had been aware of some of the shenanigans that the boys and Bobby had gotten up to in the past, but there had been other things they'd been reluctant to share at the time, because she was a cop. Then Cas had been the next one to enter their circle, and that event had opened the door to an additional multitude of funny stories. Gail and Frank had laughed until their stomachs hurt. Dean and Sam had kept it light, and the others had followed their lead. Even when it came to reminisces they shared in common with Frank and Gail, the brother and sister avoided the darker moments they'd all shared, focusing on the humorous aspects, instead. They'd all had far more drinks than they'd planned on, and they had stayed up very late.

Dean swung his legs off the bed and yawned, running his fingers through his hair. If this had been a normal day, he would have just rolled over and slept for a few more hours. But he was scheduled to die tomorrow morning, and there were a number of things he wanted to do today.

It was funny, though. A few years ago, when he and Sam and Gail had all died in the explosion in Crowley's den, God had given them all a day during which they could do anything they wanted. Whatever they wanted. In some ways, today reminded him of that day, although this time, he would be subject to the limitations of being human. But that was OK. His bucket list was a lot shorter this time. He had matured a great deal since then, and Dean had his priorities straight now. It was a good thing, too; this time, he felt like he had a pretty good shot at Heaven. And he was at peace with that. In fact, he was almost looking forward to it. Although many Angels were still dicks in Dean's view, many others were not, he'd discovered. He was OK with the idea of ascending to Heaven now. Some of their extended family were already there, and Cas and Gail popped in and out of Heaven all the time. Last night, they had all talked about the fact that there would have to be an election in Heaven once Lucifer was gone. In the spirit of lightheartedness, the jokes had started to fly about who the next God would be. Both Cas and Gail would be excellent candidates, they had all agreed. Dean had teased Gail about the possibility of her being the first female God. He'd seen her temper, he'd said; hopefully, she wouldn't cause a great flood on Earth if they cancelled her favourite TV show, or something. She'd pointed out to him that it had actually been her husband who'd caused the original flood, and they had all laughed, remembering that story. Then Frank had piped up that if she did smite the human race, if there were any survivors, they would ask her why. But because she was a woman, she would probably say, "Well, if you don't already know, I'm not going to tell you." Then all the men had laughed, even Cas. But he had turned his laugh into a cough when she had glared at him. And that had made the men laugh even harder.

But that whole thing had made Dean start to think. He'd already pretty much made peace with the fact that he was going to have to die in order to rid the Earth of Lucifer. The Angels could do all the research they wanted, but as far as Dean was concerned, it was a foregone conclusion. This wasn't his first rodeo. And just the fact that Sammy was sitting around drinking with them instead of busting his ass hitting the books had spoken volumes to Dean. That alone had pretty much told him all he needed to know about his chances of getting out of this thing alive. If Sammy thought there was even a sliver of a chance, he would have pulled an all-nighter. Nope. If Sam had given up, then that meant that Dean was toast.

He rose and put a T-shirt on, looking around for his slippers. He'd kicked them off last night and they'd gone flying. So, shortly after dawn tomorrow, Dean would be dead. And then what? Ideally, he'd go up to the Garden to wait his turn. Cas had promised that they would make sure to make the election their next priority, so Dean shouldn't have to wait too long until the next God, whoever that would be, collected him from the Garden. Dean had grinned at that. It was gonna be Cas; he was sure of it. No disrespect to Gail, but Cas was the logical choice. He would have to be. He was going to be the hero, the one who had gotten Lucifer back in the cage. Who else could possibly give him a run for his money? If Bobby had still been an Angel and they could have persuaded him to run, it would probably be a much closer race. But as things currently stood, Dean's best friend was going to be God, soon. And that meant that Dean could make the best out of a bad situation. He would just get Cas to assign him to Earth duty, and he'd be back here in his own bed that same night. Actually, since he wouldn't need to sleep any more, he wouldn't even bother going to bed, if he was alone. It would be a little bit weird getting used to that, but the bottom line was, he would be back with Sammy, and very little would change in their lives. Cas and Gail made it work, so Dean was sure he could, too. It would definitely have its good points. He could protect Sam much better as an Angel, and he would have the power to heal. How cool would that be? And Cas and Gail had smiled and assured him that there were other benefits, as well. Nicole would be one lucky woman, going forward. Frank had yelled "TMI!" at that and put his hands over his ears, humming loudly, and they'd all laughed. But the point had been made, and Dean had started to realize that his death might not be the end of the world, after all. But it would be the end of Lucifer, and that was pretty much all the incentive Dean needed.

He got down on the floor to look for his slippers, and now, his pulse was pounding in his head. Crap. That would be another thing he wouldn't miss. Although, to be fair, he probably wouldn't be drinking very much when he was an Angel, either. Cas and Gail still drank on occasion, but Dean could tell that it was a strictly social thing for them. Gail drank more often than Cas did, probably because she had been a human a lot more recently than he had. Cas had tried to tell Dean what the experience of eating and drinking was like as an Angel, but he had been unable to put it into words that Dean would understand. So he'd just wound up telling his friend that he would see for himself when he got there. But Dean wasn't too worried about it. He had the feeling that once he became an Angel, many of his current reasons to drink would cease to exist. Or, excuses, if he were to be honest about it.

He finally found his slippers and shuffled off to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. He'd expected no one to be there, but he found Sam and Gail cooking up a big breakfast. The coffee was already on, and Cas got up immediately from the kitchen table to get Dean a cup, clapping his friend on the shoulder on the way. Cas poured the coffee and he was just about to move to the fridge to get the cream when Gail put her hand on his arm. She reached up into the cupboard above where she was standing and got out the bottle of Bailey's she'd brought over from their house. She poured a generous dollop into Dean's mug, after breaking the seal. "Hair of the dog," she told Cas. "It'll make him feel better."

Cas gave her a brief smile and a wink, and then he said, "I don't see what the fur of a canine would have to do with anything."

Dean laughed, but that hurt his head. Cas brought him the coffee and he sipped at it gratefully. "What's for breakfast?" Dean asked.

"Anything you want," Gail said cheerfully. "What would you like?"

Dean sighed. The condemned man's last breakfast. He considered making a wisecrack about that, but he knew it would come out harsh and wrong-sounding, so he refrained. "What I'd like is to go back to bed for a couple more hours," he said. "But what I'm gonna do is have a shower, and a shave. I'll just take whatever you guys make. Then I'm gonna call Nicole, find out where she is, and have Cas take me over to see her. Is that OK with everybody?"

"Yes, of course, Dean," Cas told him. "Whatever you need."

"Do you want us to keep your breakfast warm, or wait until you get out of the shower and then make it?" Sam asked him.

"I can whip up some blueberry pancakes, if you want," Gail said. "Actually, I think we've still got some chocolate chips. I could check."

Dean was holding his head again. It was pounding, and they were making it even worse.

"How about chocolate truffles?" he said irritably. "You got any of those? Maybe I'll get you to go to Hawaii and get me a pineapple. Would you do that for me, Gail?"

She wheeled on him, her eyes narrowing. Dean started to smile. Now, they were getting somewhere. But then Gail looked at Cas, who was giving her the puppy-dog eyes. So she took a deep breath and said, "Do you really want a pineapple, Dean? I could go get you one, if you want."

Dean let out a frustrated breath. He stood suddenly from his chair. No, what he wanted was for everybody to treat him normally. Gail should be throwing utensils at him by now, and Sam should be telling him that he would eat whatever they made, or he could get in Baby and go down to the diner.

Luckily, there was Frank, who was entering the kitchen just as Dean was stalking out. "Hey, Winchester! Want me to drive you to church? You'd better get a head start on that confession, based on everything I heard last night."

Dean looked at Frank appreciatively. "Finally!" he said loudly. "Somebody who gets it!" Dean wheeled on his friends. "I just want everybody to be normal, OK? Today's gonna be hard enough without everybody walking on eggshells around me. Gail, tell me I'll eat what you make, and like it. Sammy, tell me to shove it. Cas...well, maybe you should stay even-tempered, because I really do need you to take me to Nicole." He put his hand on Cas's arm. Cas had rushed forward when Dean had made to leave the room, presumably to follow him. Dean wanted to put the kibosh on that. Cas may be his best friend, but that didn't mean that Dean wanted him in the bathroom when Dean showered. Cas had gotten a lot better in recent years with the concept of personal space, and Dean wanted to keep it that way. He loved Cas like his own brother, but the next person he wanted seeing him naked was a lot more feminine.

"Can you do me a favour, Cas?" Dean asked his friend. "Can you find out where Nicole is, and tell her I'm coming to see her?"

"Sure, Dean," Cas replied. The two of them headed down the hallway together as Frank entered the kitchen and helped himself to a cup of coffee.

"Where's Jody? And Rob?" Gail asked him.

"Jody's still in bed," Frank replied. "I was teasing her about being a lightweight. Then she used some very colourful language and pulled the covers over her head. So I decided discretion was the better part of valour, and got the hell out of there. Rob is watching TV with Barry and Tommy. I talked to those guys about keeping Rob occupied today. I guess I'm gonna have to figure out how to talk to him about what's supposed to happen tomorrow, but I've been putting it off. I'm still hoping for an eleventh-hour miracle."

Gail and Sam exchanged a quick glance, but Frank missed it because he was reaching into the fridge for the cream. By the time Gail's brother pulled his head out of the fridge, they had gone back to their breakfast preparations.

"You'd better tell him," Sam said tonelessly. "Rob's not a little kid anymore."

Frank paused in the act of pouring cream into his mug. "You know what, Sam? I don't see how you can be so calm about this."

Gail frowned. "Frank..." she said warningly.

Sam turned away from the stove to look at Gail's brother. "What do you want me to do, Frank?"

Frank was uncomfortable. He didn't know, really. All he knew was that Sam and Gail were bustling around making breakfast as if this was just a normal, ordinary day. As if Sam wasn't going to travel halfway across the world and stab his own brother to death tomorrow. Everybody reacted to different things in different ways, and Frank realized there wasn't exactly a rulebook for these types of situations. But, still...Frank didn't know what he wanted Sam to do, he only knew that he wanted Sam to drop the damn spatula and do...something.

But Sam wasn't Frank, and Frank wasn't Sam, and the look on Sam's face made Frank close his mouth with a snap. If these had been ordinary circumstances, Gail would have made a quip about that, but she let it go.

Meanwhile, Dean had taken a quick shower, and he went into his room, a towel wrapped around his waist. Cas was sitting on Dean's bed waiting for him. "Nicole is back in her apartment in Vancouver," Cas told him, closing the laptop. "She said it's a good time for you to visit. They're waiting to find out if there are any additional scenes the director wants to shoot, or if it's a wrap. I didn't tell her anything, only that I'd be bringing you."

And that was true. It wasn't as if she hadn't asked, but Cas had felt like it was up to Dean how much or how little he wanted to tell her about the situation. Nicole had been curious, of course, but Cas had used his Angelic evasiveness on her.

Dean went to his dresser and pulled out shorts, socks, and a T-shirt. He dropped the towel on the floor and began to dress, unconcerned about any sense of modesty. He and Cas had changed clothes in front of each other a number of times before.

"What are you going to say to her, Dean?" Cas asked his friend in a small voice.

Dean turned around to look at his Angel friend, alarmed. Cas was on the verge of tears, and it wasn't even 9 a.m. yet. Not gonna happen. He strode over to the bed and sat down beside Cas, putting his socks on.

"Do me a favour and quit blubbering," Dean said bluntly, hoping to snap Cas out of it. "I'll be an Angel soon, same as you, and I'll be around forever, same as you." He smirked at his friend. "I can't wait to remind your wife about that. An eternity of retorts. Gail won't know what hit her."

Cas smiled back tremulously. That all sounded pretty wonderful to him. If it worked out that way. Whether or not Dean actually believed it himself, Cas was glad that he was putting a positive spin on the situation. But there were alternative scenarios that were just as plausible. Maybe Dean wouldn't go to the Garden in preparation to ascend. He could just as easily descend. Dean had been in Hell before, and he had done some questionable things in his life, to say the least. And if he went there, there wouldn't be anything that Cas could do about it. Castiel had received a special dispensation from God Himself to storm into Hell and rescue Dean. At the time, Cas had wondered why God would decide to wreak havoc in Hell and put so many Angels' lives at risk for just one man. Then, when he'd seen Dean and gripped him tightly, raising Dean from Perdition, Castiel had understood. Dean Winchester was a very unique, special individual, who stood out like a shining beacon. He had also seemed familiar to Castiel, although the Angel hadn't known exactly why. But, when Dean had looked at Castiel with such amazement and awe as they rose together from the depths of Hell, Castiel had known immediately that he loved Dean, and that Dean loved him, and that they were destined to be brothers.

That was why Cas was starting to cry now. Just like the boy wizard in those books and movies, it would seem that God had sent Castiel to perform the rescue operation just so that Dean Winchester could die at the proper time. But this was not fiction, it was the real world, and there were no such things as resurrection stones. And Cas loved Gail all the more for trying, but there would be no resurrection spells, either. The Tablets were the Word of God, and as such, they had to be obeyed.

It was also possible that Dean could go to Purgatory. That wasn't without precedent, either. Dean would fare better there, but it was no kind of existence. Constantly fighting monsters, looking over your shoulder, never having a moments' peace. No. That would be unacceptable.

And worst of all was the fear that Dean might be taken to the Netherworld. At first glance, that would appear to be a good thing. In its own way, the Netherworld was sort of a strange version of Heaven. On the plus side, it had seemed very peaceful there, and from what Cas had seen, everyone had their own little homes there, just like Heaven. However, there was something very sterile and colourless about the place. And once an entity went there, they could never come back. Cas was pretty sure that Dean had visions of being assigned to Earth by whomever turned out to be the next God, so that he and his brother could be reunited. Well, if Dean went to the Netherworld, that could never happen.

But all they could do was wait to see what was going to happen. In the meantime, Dean could have his day today to do whatever he needed to do to make his peace, and Cas would keep himself at his friend's disposal.

"I'm gonna finish getting dressed, then shave, and then have a big breakfast," Dean told Cas. "Then, I'll get you to take me to Nicole's. I'll probably be there for a few hours, and then I'll call you on your cell to come and get me. OK?"

"OK, Dean," Cas said softly.

Dean sighed. Well, at least Cas wasn't crying any more. "Uh, Cas..."

"Yes, Dean?"

"Can you...?" Dean gestured to the door.

"Oh. Yes. Sure," Cas said. He stood from the bed, and he looked so awkward that it made Dean's heart hurt, because that was so much like the old Cas. They said that your whole life passed through your mind before you died; maybe that was what was happening now. Hopefully, if that kept on happening, he would only see the good stuff. And there had been a lot of that. Dean was determined to stay as positive as he could. If there was anything to that karma junk, he wanted to go out as pure as possible.

"Cas?" Dean said, and his friend turned around expectantly. "Thanks."

"For what?" Cas said, puzzled.

"For everything," Dean said simply, and Cas gave him a gentle smile. Then he left Dean's room, closing the door softly behind him.

"I love you, Nicole," Dean said, as soon as Cas had left her apartment.

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "I knew you liked to drink, but I didn't think you usually drank in the morning," she quipped.

"I'm serious, Nicole." Dean took her by the hand. "Come on and sit down. I need to talk to you." He led her over to the couch and sat her down. "I don't have much time, so I have to shorthand it," Dean said to her. "You don't have to say it back. You don't have to say anything. I just needed to tell you how I felt, face to face."

Nicole peered at him closely. "What's going on, Dean? What's wrong?"

He told her about what the Tablet said, and she was shocked and angry. "That's crazy!" Nicole exclaimed. "Is Cas sure that's what it says?"

"Yeah, he's sure," Dean said glumly. "I have to do this, Nicole. If you had seen what I saw when the death squads were out there, chopping people up..." He cut himself off. No. There was no reason to tell her about all of that.

Nicole was horrified. She could read between the lines, and she had Google. Even though they'd been blessedly exempt in Vancouver, she had a pretty good idea of the atrocities that had been committed in different cities around the world in Lucifer's name, and at his behest. But why did it have to be Dean? Why should HE have to pay the price? And what would that do to Sam, and Cas and Gail? What was it going to do to Nicole?

"I love you too, Dean," she said, throwing her arms around his neck.

Dean put his arms around her, and they hugged for a while. Then Dean pulled out of the embrace. "I'm hoping I'll end up an Angel, like Cas and Gail," he told her. "If everything works out the way I want, I'll see you on the flip side. But, just in case, maybe you'd better line up another date for the movie premiere."

Nicole laughed, but then she started to cry, and Dean put his arms around her again, comforting her. Lucky Sam had done a big laundry recently; everybody was going to be leaking on him today. Well, he guessed that beat the alternative. It sure beat nobody giving a damn.

They sat there like that for a while, and then Nicole said, "Well, if this is your last day as a human, let's make the most out of it." She took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom.

Metatron was sitting in his own apartment in Vancouver, and he was writing furiously. The notes he had for the next movie called for a big, apocalyptic fight with Lucifer, and he was trying to figure out how that should go, and what it should look like.

Each of the five Originals was going to have their moment of screen time. Metatron had finally written Gail in, having successfully pitched the idea to Richard and the other producers. They'd initially been resistant to the idea, but Richard had changed his own mind after seeing how sweet Cas and Gail were with each other, and he had helped to persuade the others. So, as things stood now, Castiel was going to meet Gail in Rome, when he and the Winchesters went there to get the Heaven Tablet. She was going to die in an earthquake, then come back as an Angel. Castiel was going to profess his love to her in a touching scene that was going to make all the fangirls swoon, but then it was going to be revealed that God had sent her to be Castiel's mate, and He had conferred the powers of an Original Angel upon her so she could help the other Original Angels defeat Lucifer. So, pretty much like real life, with the only exception being the real circumstances of their meeting, of course. Gail would like it, he was sure, and it was the least that Metatron could do after all of the terrible things that he had done to her and Castiel over the past few years.

It had been written somewhere that there were five different Archetypes of individuals that were required for a good, epic story: the Hero, the Mentor, the Everyman, the Innocent, and the Villain. Their story certainly had all of those, and more; both the fictional story, and the true one. Which of them would die, and which would survive?

VIGNETTE - CASTIEL - FREE WILL

As Metatron was writing about Castiel stepping up to face Lucifer, the Scribe finally had to admit to himself that the Hero was Castiel. It had always been Castiel. It didn't matter how much Metatron reformed himself. He could heal the sick, feed the poor, and bring about world peace, and still, Castiel would be the one that the Angels would look to, to lead them. Metatron just had to accept that. The Hero was the handsome, charming one, with the sparkling blue eyes, chiseled jaw, and muscular physique. Metatron's vessel wasn't nearly good-looking enough, and his personality wasn't dashing enough. He'd been bitter about that in the past, but he had finally learned to let that go.

But interestingly enough, even though the Hero was always the protagonist, the protagonist was not always a hero. Was Castiel a hero? Yes. And, no. That would be for Heaven's writers of history books to decide, not Metatron. Both viewpoints could be argued, along with several shades in-between.

The Hero's ability to stay true to himself throughout the story, despite the trials he had to face, was one of his hallmarks. If Metatron had been aware of the situation going on in the bunker right now, he could have told Gail that Castiel could not possibly have sanctioned her use of Rowena's spell book to bring Dean back from the dead. A true Angel of the Lord could never go along with using black magic to counteract a Holy edict. Cas may be very humanized now, but there were still some lines he would never be able to cross. There could be some trouble coming down the road for Heaven's golden couple, if Castiel and Gail took opposing views on the issue.

One of the other trademarks of the Hero was his ability and motivation to save people. Castiel had those qualities too, of course. Although, depending on who you asked, you might receive different points of view on the details of that particular quality. If you asked Lucifer, or possibly Crowley, they would probably tell you that Castiel would be very willing to save any number of people, but he would also make damn sure he saved himself, first. But Gail would tend to disagree, naturally. She was looking through the eyes of love, but she would likely say from her point of view that Cas took too much on himself, holding himself responsible for everyone's continued survival. The truth was probably somewhere in the middle, in Metatron's opinion, but he had to grudgingly admit that Gail's viewpoint was probably closer to the truth. The bad guys always bitched that Castiel was selfish, because they had to find things that were wrong with him. Some people could only feel better about themselves when they were putting others down. Metatron used to be one of those people, so he knew first-hand what that was like. But, no longer. Metatron was not interested in being resentful any more. He was very happy with his life now and, as his burgeoning notebook would suggest, he had a lot to live for, because he had a lot to look forward to.

But, back to Castiel for the moment. Both the Winchesters and Gail had taught Cas the importance of the unity of family, and he had improved immeasurably in that regard. Castiel no longer thought like a renegade, but almost like a father, taking the responsibility on his own shoulders to make sure that everyone was safe. But there were certain things that were still above the longest-serving Angel's pay grade, and Dean's impending death was one of them. All roads led to Rome, so to speak, and if their Father had decreed that it be so, then so it would be.

And what would become of Castiel after that? How would he feel going forward, if he stood back and allowed his best friend to die? Would he be able to live with himself? Would his marriage and his relationships with the rest of his family survive, or would they wither and die if Castiel closed himself down again, as he'd done in Heaven in the past? Only time would tell on that score.

Free Will. It was funny, really. Dean Winchester had taught Castiel all about the concept, and the Angel had taken to it like a fish to water. Imagine being able to make your own choices. Heaven hadn't been like that at all; you followed orders, or you perished. That was all there was to it. But when Castiel and the Winchesters and Bobby had taken the rule book and set fire to it, opting for Free Will instead, their actions had set a number of things in motion. It was unclear to Metatron whether his Father had actually bought into the concept of Free Will, or if He had just been paying lip service to it. But in any event, that would cease to matter tomorrow, after Sam Winchester raised Lucifer's blade to his brother and recreated the First Murder, in reverse.

The only matter that was left to be decided was whether Castiel would survive an apocalyptic confrontation with Lucifer, or whether he would even want to, after seeing Sam murder Dean. Prior to Gail's arrival, Metatron would have taken odds that Castiel would have fallen on his own Angel blade after the heartbreaking deed was done. But now, Castiel's wife was his primary reason for existing. As long as Gail was alive, Castiel would go on, albeit with a heavy heart. But grief affected different people in different ways. It would either bring the couple even closer together, or it would rend them apart.

But, would Castiel's character survive the film? Should he? For the purposes of compelling cinema, maybe Cas should die heroically, while saving his little girlfriend. The fangirls would weep and wail, but they would also love the romance behind the notion. The only problem was, the franchise was committed to at least one more picture after the one Metatron was writing now, and a Cas-less Supernatural was unthinkable. Then again, dead wasn't always dead in their world. There could be a way.

As Metatron was working on plot points, Dean and Nicole were reluctantly getting dressed. They had made love, then cuddled and talked, and then made love once more. In his efforts to keep things light for her, Dean had joked that once he came back as an Angel, he'd be able to go all night, if she wanted.

"Do you mean - Cas and Gail - " she had said hesitantly, and Dean had nodded. "Yup," he confirmed. "Wow, no wonder Cas seems so happy all the time," Nicole had remarked, and she and Dean had laughed and laughed. Then Nicole had caressed Dean's chest and his rock-hard stomach and said mischievously, "I'll have to set aside a whole weekend, then," and they had both laughed again.

Now that they were dressed, the mood had gotten quiet once more. "Are you sure this is the only way, Dean?" Nicole asked him softly.

He finished buttoning up his shirt. "I'd like to say no, but, honestly? Yeah. Yeah, it's the only way, Nicole."

She had been sitting on the edge of the bed watching him dress, memorizing every detail of his body and his face. Just in case, she told herself. Nicole wasn't as familiar with the way things worked in Dean's world as he was, but she was no fool, either.

Dean walked back to the bed. "I'll tell Cas or Gail to call you once...well, you know. I'm gonna tell Bobby what I want as far as arrangements go. Sam, too, unless he's too much of a basket case. You can come to my funeral, if you want. They're gonna have to burn my body, but I want to have a memorial service in the back yard of the bunker before that happens. I'll tell them to keep the booze flowing, and you can all tell funny stories about me. That's the way I want to go out."

Nicole rose to her feet and the two of them hugged and kissed for a few more minutes. Nicole was trying to be stoic, but Dean could see that her eyes were welling up again, and he wanted to remember her in a happier light, in case things didn't work out the way he hoped. "I love you, Nicole," he said, chucking her under the chin. "I'm gonna leave now. It'll ruin my reputation if I start bawling like a baby. With any luck, I'll see you real soon."

She nodded. "OK, Dean. OK. I'll see you real soon." She smiled bravely for him, and he gave her one more long, lingering kiss, then left her apartment.

Cas took Dean back to the bunker, and Dean went straight to the kitchen for a beer. It might be a bit early, but it was getting late for him. It was just after lunchtime now, and he realized he was sort of hungry again. Seemed like the perfect time to check the next item off the list.

Dean got his beer, and he'd been about to walk down the hallway when he heard a noise coming from the garage. He stepped out there and saw Frank standing in front of the Charger with the hood up, and Rob was standing beside him.

As Dean drew closer, he could see that Frank was explaining the parts of the engine to Rob: what they were, what they did, and how to maintain them. Rob had a bit of a glazed look in his eyes, but to his credit, he seemed to be hanging in there. Not everybody shared Frank and Dean's love of classic cars and their proper feeding and maintenance, but, bless Frank's heart. He was trying to bond with his kid any way he could. Dean could have used a bit more of that from his own dad, growing up.

"Hey, Frank!" Dean called out. "Why don't you take Rob over to see my Baby, so he can see what a really cool engine looks like?"

Frank's arm popped over the hood, giving Dean the one-finger salute. Dean laughed. He should almost save Frank for last; at least then, Dean could go out laughing.

"You guys eaten lunch yet?" Dean asked, approaching the car.

"Nope," Frank responded. He straightened up, wiping his hands on a rag.

"What do you say I take you guys out to the diner for a cheeseburger and fries?" Dean said. "My treat. Where's Jody?"

"Inside, somewhere," Frank replied. "She said to let her know when you got back."

"OK, let's go get her, then. You and her and Rob can come with me to the diner. We'll take Baby. On me."

Rob was staring at Dean with wide eyes. Aw, crap. "Actually, on second thought, can you go and get Jody?" Dean asked Frank. "I want to talk to Rob for a minute."

Frank nodded curtly. Once he had left the garage, Dean leaned against the Charger, looking at Rob. "Hey, I'm not a ghost yet, so quit looking at me like I am," Dean said to the boy. "So, you know we couldn't come up with anything. Did your dad tell you that, or did you know already?"

"I had a pretty good idea," Rob said, frowning. "He just confirmed it for me." There was silence for a minute, and then Rob said, "What's wrong with God? Why does he let this stuff happen?"

Dean shrugged uncomfortably. "I dunno, Rob. Nobody does. Maybe you should talk to Cas about that. That's kind of his department."

"I'm not talking to Cas," Rob said angrily. "I hate Cas."

"Don't say that," Dean said sharply. "Don't be a dick. None of this is Cas's fault. None of it. It's eating him up inside. If you let hate consume you, then Lucifer wins, and I'll die for nothing. Do you get that, Rob?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Rob answered. "I just think it's so unfair."

Dean chuffed out a laugh. "Hey, think how I feel. Do me a favour. Try not to give your dad such a hard time. He's a good man, and he loves you a lot. I wish my own dad had been as cool as yours is."

"Where IS your dad?" Rob asked curiously.

"Dead," Dean said shortly. "That seems to be an occupational hazard in my family. But, you never know; things might work out yet." He winked at the boy as Frank and Jody came out of the bunker.

Dean drove the family to the diner and treated them to lunch. Jody had complained that she still wasn't feeling well, but when her burger came, she ate it ravenously, and then she reached over to Frank's plate, snagging some of his fries. "Hey!" he objected, but she shrugged, and then Frank gave up, pushing his plate toward his wife. Dean smirked at that, but he also thought it was kind of sweet. Cas and Gail they were not, but in their own way, Frank and Jody were just as loving a couple.

When they got back to the bunker, Dean went out to the library area, where Cas and Gail were sitting morosely at the table. "I need to borrow your wife," Dean said to Cas.

Gail looked up at Dean inquiringly. "You're the next stop on the tour," Dean told her. "I want to take you for a couple of drinks, but I don't want hubby breathing down our necks. I might want to see if I can finally persuade you to run off with me," he added, smirking.

Gail smiled, rising from her chair. She leaned down and kissed Cas on the forehead. "Don't wait up," she quipped. Cas smiled wearily. Gail walked over to Dean and took him by the hand, winking them over to the Hunter bar.

Dean bought them each a drink and then he led them over to a corner table, where they could talk privately. They clinked glasses and drank.

"How was lunch?" Gail asked him.

"It was good, actually," Dean replied. "That's one hell of a family Frank's got there."

She smiled faintly. "I know. I'm really happy for him."

"Make sure he's OK after...you know," Dean said. "He puts on the tough-guy, wisecracking face, but this is gonna be really hard on him."

Gail sighed. "I know. It's going to be really hard on a lot of people."

Dean studied her face. "What about you? How come you're not bawling your eyes out? I thought you liked me better than that. Even Cas was crying this morning."

For a split second, Gail considered telling him. But what if it didn't work? Or what if he told Cas? That would be the last thing they would need right now. Sometimes, it was just better to ask for forgiveness than for permission. But, of course Dean would be suspicious. She might be tougher now than when they'd first met, but he was right: she should be bawling her eyes out right now.

Instead, she smiled. "Do you remember the night we first met?"

Dean smirked. "How could I forget? It was one of the more unusual ways I've ever met a woman."

"I'll bet there's been lots of times you regret not having run me over, when you had the chance," she said with a crooked smile.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, a few," he answered in kind. Then he took a drink. "I don't regret a thing, Gail," he said seriously. "I love you so much. You know that. Tell Cas he's a son of a bitch for snapping you up first."

"Oh, right. As if," she retorted.

"You made our lives so much better," Dean told her.

"Stop it, or you ARE going to make me cry," she said, taking a sip of her drink.

"It's only been half a day, and already, I'm getting sick of this whole farewell tour thing," Dean sighed. "I don't know how The Who did it."

"Who?" she quipped.

"Leave the bad jokes to Frank. You're better than that," he said, grinning. They drank for another minute, and then Dean put his glass down on the table. "You're still thinking about it, aren't you?" he said bluntly. "You and Sam. Right?"

Gail made a face. Dammit. She didn't want to tell him the truth, but she didn't want to lie to him, either.

"Right?" Dean persisted, more sternly.

Gail sighed heavily. "OK, Dean. Yeah, we are. But so what? If you think we're losing you, you're crazy."

"It's gonna piss Cas off," Dean warned her.

Gail shrugged. "I repeat: so what? Screw him. He'll get over it. Once he sees that you're alive, he'll be as happy as anything."

"You think so?" Dean said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, of course I do," she answered quickly.

"OK, then, let me ask you something else: what if you guys try it, and it doesn't work? Or, what if it does work, but I come back as some kind of a weird Pet Cemetery guy, or something?"

Gail opened her mouth, and then she closed it again. Truthfully, she hadn't considered that. She'd had absolutely no doubt that the spell would work the way it was supposed to. None. But now, Dean had put the idea in her head. What if it DIDN'T work?

"Losing you is unacceptable to me," she said, almost angrily. "If you insist on being the sacrifice, I'll make it work. Me and Sam. Whatever it takes."

"What about Cas?" Dean asked her again. "If your hoodoo doesn't bring me back as a human, I don't wanna spend eternity as an Angel watching you guys fight."

Gail sighed. "If I knew for sure you would be with us as an Angel, I wouldn't be pushing so hard for this. But there are so many other places you could go. I don't think we can afford to take that chance."

Dean's lips twitched. "Hey, just because you've told me to go to Hell so many times, doesn't mean I will."

"You can't kid a kidder, Dean. I don't have time to sugarcoat it. There's no God right now, but from what I understand, Death could just take you himself, and plunk you anywhere he wants. And I get the feeling that he doesn't like you very much."

Dean frowned. The idea had occurred to him, of course, but he'd been keeping himself in denial about it. But it was true, what Gail was saying. In the absence of a Higher Authority, Death could pretty much do whatever he wanted, couldn't he?

"My way is the best way," Gail insisted. "Say what you will about Crowley, but the bottom line is, he's still around today because the spell works."

"OK, well, you know what? If Sammy's on board, I guess I'm OK with you trying," Dean sighed. "If it doesn't work, I guess we're no worse off. Just...make sure that you and Cas are all right, will you? If I was gonna break up your marriage, I'd much rather it be because I was too irresistible for you, and you and I finally had that hot, steamy night."

She smiled, then pretended to look at a watch on her wrist. "Well, there's still time."

They both laughed, and then they clinked their glasses. "I love you so much," Gail told him. "But I'm not going to say goodbye to you, because we're going to see you again, soon."

Dean nodded. "I'm gonna want to talk to Cas in a little while."

"Sure, Dean. Do whatever you need to do. But can you do me a favour? Don't tell him about this whole thing, OK? You know the old saying about it being better to ask for forgiveness than for permission, right?"

He shook his head slowly. Gail. She was one of a kind, that was for sure. Cas would forgive her. He might be mad as hell, but Cas would have no choice but to relent. Dean knew that his Angel friend would sooner die than to break up with his wife. The very idea was unthinkable. So he raised his glass again, they had another toast, and then a short while later, he had her wink him back to the bunker.

VIGNETTE - CROWLEY - 666 SHADES OF GREY

Metatron was writing Crowley's big scene now. As much as he couldn't stand the King of Hell, the Scribe had to admit that he was fun to write. He always had the most snarky, venomous, yet amusing comments. Metatron knew the character of Crowley was a fan favourite. Intellectually, he guessed he could understand why the fans loved to hate Crowley yet hated to admit that they loved him. At first blush, the King seemed like a pretty fun guy. He was British, he was witty and urbane, and he was always around to help the boys, whether he wanted to or not. Even the rivalry between Crowley and Castiel was fun. It was like the showdown between the Sheriff and Black Bart, or the banter between James Bond and a super-villain, or something.

But in real life, Crowley was a vicious little self-serving weasel whose act had grown really old. He should have been killed or usurped years ago. Metatron tried to prevent his hatred of Crowley from making its way through the pen and onto the paper, but it was hard. Crowley had tortured the crap out of him when he'd been in Hell, and Metatron had never forgiven him for that. And yes, Metatron had done things to Crowley too, but Crowley was the King of Hell. Anything bad that happened to him was no more than he deserved.

As an Archetype, as much as Metatron would like to make Crowley the Villain, there could only be one, and in this particular situation, that wasn't Crowley. So, the King of Hell slotted in as the Mentor. He was the most knowledgeable one when it came to the ancient language. Metatron also hated to admit that fact, because he was God's Scribe, but a fact was a fact. For some unknown reason, their Father had endowed Crowley with language and translation skills that were superior to any of the others'. Maybe, because Cain had been the first Child, God had enough of a soft spot for him to want to see Crowley survive. And one of the best ways to ensure his continued survival would be to give Crowley some assets that would be of use to the Angels.

Crowley was also an expert at reading the markings on their blades, although Metatron felt that Castiel could be much better at that particular skill if he would only apply himself to it a bit more. But it would be difficult to get Castiel to sit down and focus for long enough to do the Angel much good. Castiel was a man of action, not a scholar. Maybe Gail would be better suited to that type of pursuit. But that would be for the couple to work out; Metatron had messed with them enough.

But, back to Crowley for the moment. If the King were so inclined, he could share a fountain of knowledge with the Angels, but only if he was in the mood. And, as prickly as Crowley could often be, he did occasionally decide to be magnanimous. The King appeared to vacillate between Hero and Villain, black hat and white hat. He was more Evil than Good, but he was also more Good than most thought him to be, even himself. Crowley's problem was that he thought he could play both ends against the middle. And maybe he even could, but eventually, a candle burning at both ends would burn down, leaving you with nothing but hot wax, blistering your hands.

Maybe Crowley should be the one to die. He could either be the tragic Hero, having aligned himself with the God Squad, or maybe, Crowley could die protecting Gail. That would create more pathos for the death scene. Either that, or the King could decide to side with Lucifer, and then Castiel could kill him. In a way, that would be only fair, seeing as Crowley had killed his younger brother first. But how upset would the fans be about that? And should Metatron even care?

When Dean and Gail got back to the bunker, the elder Winchester asked Cas where Bobby was.

"He went up the stairs about twenty minutes ago to sit outside," Cas said, gesturing. "He said to tell you where he was, when you were ready to talk to him."

Dean nodded. Might as well do it now. It was getting to be late afternoon already.

As Dean walked up the stairs, Cas approached Gail. "Are you all right?" he asked her, looking closely at her face.

"Yeah, I'm all right, Cas," she said softly. Then it occurred to her why he was looking at her that way. She should have red, weepy eyes now. "I'm trying to be brave for Dean," she added. "You know how he hates it when I bawl like a baby."

Cas's expression softened. That was certainly true. But he still wanted to talk to her. "I asked Sam where that spell book was," he said calmly.

Gail's heart skipped a beat, but she said nothing. She should have figured that Cas would ask.

"He said he didn't know," Cas continued, gazing steadily at her.

"Oh. Well, he's got a lot on his mind right now," she said.

"True, true," Cas agreed, nodding. He didn't say anything else, he just continued to stare at her.

Suddenly, Gail realized what he was trying to do. Cas liked watching cop shows on TV, and in many of them, the detectives would get the suspect in the interrogation room, sit him or her down, and just stare at them. Many of them would get so unnerved that they would just start to babble and incriminate themselves.

And the worst part was, it was starting to work. Her conscience was starting to gnaw at her now. But she couldn't let Cas find out about the book; if he did, she was sure that he would destroy it, and then all would be lost. So she moved forward and put her arms around him, asking to be held. So he held her. And by the time Dean came back down the stairs, the subject was forgotten.

"So...body-burning, memorial service, out back here. Lots of booze," Bobby said when Dean came outside. "Anything else?"

Dean sat down in the lawn chair beside Bobby, and the older man passed Dean the bottle he was holding. Dean took a swig and then handed it back to him.

"I can't think of anything else, except taking care of Sam," Dean remarked.

Bobby looked at him. "Don't insult me, boy."

Dean grimaced. "Sorry, Bobby."

They were silent for a moment, and then Bobby said, "I wish it was me. It should be me."

"Don't say that, Bobby," Dean said uncomfortably.

"Why not?" Bobby said in a thick voice. "You're like my own son."

"Are you crying?" Dean asked him incredulously.

"No, I'm not crying, ya idjit," Bobby said, sniffling back the tears. "I've got hay fever."

"Oh, Yeah. Right," Dean said quickly. "I forgot. Anyway, I'm getting kind of tired of this whole farewell tour thing, so I won't draw this out. I just wanted to make sure you had everything under control."

"Last song?" Bobby said tersely.

Dean shrugged. "I don't care. Zeppelin, Aerosmith. Bob Seger, maybe. Isn't there a song called 'The Famous Final Scene'? Maybe that one." He smirked. "Just don't let Sammy or Gail pick it. I don't want my bones burning to some candy-ass pop song. Then, I wouldn't even be able to come back as a vengeful spirit and haunt them, if things go that way."

Bobby's beard twitched, but when he spoke, it was in a serious tone. "I'm awful damn sorry, Dean."

Dean gave him a half-shrug. "Why? You didn't write the stupid Tablet."

"Yeah, I know, but if I hadn't resigned as God - "

"Never mind," Dean said curtly, cutting him off. "We've all made mistakes. Besides, this might all work out yet. With any luck, Cas'll be the next God, and then he'll just send me back here."

"That's if you even make it to the Garden in the first place," Bobby remarked. "When I was God, Sam was slated to go to the Netherworld, remember? That was why we had to send him and Gail back in time, so she could stop him from having that accident."

Dean was startled. That was right. He'd almost forgotten about that. "So was I on the list, or not?" he asked Bobby impatiently.

Bobby frowned. "I got no idea. I can't remember any more. When I was God, I knew a few things that I don't know any more. There must be a failsafe in place, or something."

Dean sighed. Great. He toyed with the idea of telling Bobby what Gail had in mind, but then, he decided against it. Why raise Bobby's hopes like that? Besides, the more people who knew, the more chance that somebody would blab. It would either work or it wouldn't, but Dean couldn't concern himself with that one way or the other. He was having a hard enough time keeping it together right now as it was, and the heaviest hitters were still to come.

So Bobby and Dean talked for a bit longer, passing the bottle back and forth, until the sky started to lose its light. When it did, Bobby's voice grew thick again, and Dean stood from his chair. He looked down at Bobby and said, "We'll talk later, but I don't want you coming to Madagascar. I don't want you to see."

Bobby nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak at the moment, but he was glad that Dean had said that. What they were describing was the kind of thing you could never un-see, and Bobby didn't want to have nightmares every night for the rest of his life.

Dean turned around and went into the bunker.

VIGNETTE - METATRON - AGAINST THE WIND

Metatron was still writing the battle scene. He hadn't decided if any of them were going to bite the dust yet; or if one of them was, who it was going to be. He had gotten to his own scene now. He was the Everyman in the tale, the stand-in for the reader, or the audience, in this case. He was the character that they were supposed to be able to relate to, the ordinary person who extraordinary things sometimes happened to. That had certainly been true back in the day, when God had designated Metatron, out of all of the Angels, to be his Scribe. Then God had blessed him further, imbuing him with special powers as an Original, affording him a higher status. Metatron only wished he would have appreciated God's blessings more fully at the time. There had only been four Original Angels back then, because Gail hadn't come along yet, and Metatron had been lucky enough to be one of them. How cool was that? But instead, he had spent so much time and energy being dissatisfied with his role. Always wanting more. That sure sounded familiar, didn't it? It sounded like his brother Lucifer.

Metatron had never stopped to realize just how big a deal his job was. He'd been God's Scribe, the guy who had recorded the Word for every being that had ever been, or ever would be. Everything had flowed through him. Everything. And now, he was an Author himself, able to tell his own stories. How great that was, too.

In fact, after this whole Lucifer thing was over, Metatron intended to be the Everyman in real life. Ted the human, writing stories. Castiel and Crowley could combine to take Metatron's powers away from him, and then he would happily live out the rest of his lifespan, however long that might be, expressing himself creatively through the written word.

With both Lucifer and Metatron taken off the game board, Metatron imagined there would probably be a power struggle between Brother Crowley and Brother Castiel. But, what else was new? And that wouldn't be Metatron's problem, not any more. He would be quite content to wear cardigan sweaters and slippers, typing out scripts. Maybe he would even take up smoking a pipe and get a cat.

Maybe his character should be the one to die in the epic battle. But if he did, would anyone care? Unlike in real life, he planned on having his character align himself with the God Squad at the very last minute, in a surprising plot twist. So maybe his death would garner some sympathy on that basis alone. But then again, if his character were to survive, maybe he could write himself as a reformed sinner. A good guy. And wouldn't that be something.

He continued to type.

"OK, Cas, you're up," Dean said to his friend.

Cas looked at him with the puppydog eyes, and Dean sighed. Besides Sam, of course, he'd known Cas was gonna be the hardest one.

"Where do you want to go, Dean?" Cas asked. He was holding Gail's hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze, then brought her hand to his lips and gave it a kiss. Then he released her hand, and he stood, slowly.

Aw, geez. Dean glanced at Gail's face, but she was looking down at the table. He sure hoped she and Sammy knew what they were doing. Cas was a lot better than he used to be, but if he got a bee in his bonnet about that spell book, there was gonna be one hell of an argument. But Dean couldn't worry about that right now. He had enough on his plate. These last two goodbyes were just about going to kill him.

Dean thought about Cas's question. Where should he and Cas go to say goodbye to each other? There were so many places that held strong memories of himself and Cas, hanging out together, fighting the good fight. They had been through so much, the two of them, both good and bad. But ever since they'd first met, Cas had been Dean's go-to guy, his best friend.

"Let's go to your house," Dean said impulsively. Cas came forward and took his friend's hand, winking them to his and Gail's place.

"Can I get you anything?" Cas asked him.

Dean smiled thinly. Cas, the husband. The host. Who would have ever thought it? "Do you have any whiskey?" he asked his friend.

"I'm sure we must still have some from Christmas," Cas replied, moving towards the cabinet.

"Then have one more drink with me, Cas," Dean said. "Or maybe three."

Cas brought the bottle and two glasses over to the coffee table. Dean sat on the couch, and Cas sat beside him. He put the bottle down on the table and Dean picked it up, pouring them each a generous shot. Dean lifted his glass.

"To my best friend," he said.

Cas lifted his glass. "No. To mine," he responded.

The men clinked glasses and drank, and Cas screwed up his face, making Dean laugh. "Go get your ginger ale," he said, "and I promise I won't make fun of you."

Cas winked himself to the kitchen. Then he was back a couple of seconds later with the ginger ale, and he poured some into his glass.

"Showoff," Dean grumbled good-naturedly. "Hopefully I'll be able to do that soon, too."

"I hope so too, Dean," Cas said quietly. He took a sip of his drink.

"What do you think?" Dean asked him bluntly. "Do you think I'll go to Heaven?"

Cas was agitated. "I wish I knew, Dean. If it was up to me, you would. But I'm sure you're aware that things could very well go a different way."

"Yeah, I know, Cas," Dean responded. The men drank silently for a minute, and then Dean said, "Are you happy, Cas?"

The Angel looked at him, startled. "You know what I mean," Dean amended hastily. "Aside from this...situation." Cas nodded. "Yes, Dean. I truly am," he replied. "I want to thank you for your friendship all of these years. If it hadn't been for you, I would be the most miserable Angel in Heaven. If it hadn't been for you, I would never have met the love of my life. I owe you everything."

Dean shrugged. "Aaaaah, I'm pretty sure you and Gail would have met anyway, somehow. You didn't need my help before, Lance. Or should I call you John?"

Cas's eyes grew wide. So, Dean did remember! Then he smiled. "Just call me Cas," he smiled. "Call me your friend, for I have always been your friend, and I always will be."

Dean nodded his head. "Good deal. Hopefully, I make it back this time, too. But if I don't, you guys have to make sure that Sam is OK. I'm pretty sure he likes Quinn more than he's letting on. Maybe Gail can see if she can fix them up. Women are usually pretty good at that kind of junk. I want him to be happy, Cas. Like you are, now. And, Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"Just remember how much Gail loves you," Dean told his friend.

Cas was surprised. "I know that, Dean," he said softly. "I could never forget that. She's my whole life."

Dean nodded again. "Good. I want you to be happy, Cas. You guys are my family. If I don't make it back, I want you to promise that you'll do your best to make sure everybody's OK. You're the best friend I ever had, Cas. No. That's wrong. You're not just my best friend. You're my brother. You're my brother, and I love you."

"Dean..." Cas started to say, and now the tears were running down his face. Wow. The Cas of just a few years ago would have been sitting there stiffly, telling him that God required this sacrifice to be made, and it was his duty. Dean knew which Cas he preferred.

"Come here," he said to his Angel friend, and the two men embraced. Cas laid his head on Dean's shoulder. His heart felt like it was tearing in two. Dean HAD to go to the Garden. He just had to. But there were absolutely no guarantees. That was the problem. This could be the very last time he was able to hug his best friend. He choked back a sob.

Dean chuffed out a laugh, but his eyes were stinging now. He patted Cas on the back. "Come on, you big baby," Dean said in a thick voice. "Your wife cried less." But then he laid his head on Cas's shoulder too, and the two friends cried together for the next few minutes.

VIGNETTE - GAIL - GIRL FROM THE MYSTIC

Now Metatron was writing about Gail, and he was smiling. The women were going to eat this up with a spoon. He wished he'd been able to introduce her character in the first movie and tell her full story. The way that she and Castiel had met and bonded in real life had been one hell of a story. Weird, but interesting. But even so, he was warming to her character now. She was going to be a strong woman, and a perfect match for Castiel in every way.

Gail was going to be the Innocent, of course, but she also could have been the Everyman of the tale. She certainly had been, at the beginning. Kidnapped by Demons, meeting the Winchesters, falling for an Angel. Who the hell's life was that, anyway? Oh, and not just ANY Angel, but the one with the most baggage. Major airports had less baggage than Castiel. But if Gail were the Everyman, then Metatron would have to be the Innocent, and the very idea was laughable. He might have tried to make that argument a few short years ago, when he had himself convinced that he was the one who was the victim. But, no more. The bottom line, as Dean Winchester would say, was that Metatron had started out bad, and then he had gotten worse, and he was damn lucky to still be alive right now.

So Gail had to be the Innocent, even though there were some aspects of her character that didn't quite fit that categorization. Just as Castiel wasn't purely a Hero, Gail really wasn't all that Innocent. Castiel was partially blinded by love, as far as his wife went, at least in Metatron's opinion. And Metatron wasn't necessarily talking about the innocence of sexual purity, either. You could hardly fault her on that score. Metatron was unfortunately still inexperienced in these matters, but the last time he looked, marrying the only guy you'd ever gone to bed with was pretty damn pure. No, it was more the way she conducted herself. And the thoughts that sometimes popped into her head, both spoken and unspoken, were hardly befitting for an Angel. It was a good thing that Gail was less blunt in her speech than her brother, or she would have severely wounded everyone in her circle with her sharp tongue by now. There was just something about her, if you were able to look beyond the doe eyes. A hard edge. But none of the men in her life could ever seem to get past the doe eyes. There was a toughness, a resilience about her, almost as if there was a streak of Demon in there somewhere.

Yet, in the final analysis, Gail truly WAS the Innocent. None of the bad things that had befallen her were of her own doing; at least, up until this point, they had not been. She couldn't help the circumstances she had been born into, and her choices were a product of the person that her circumstances had made her into.

Should Gail be the one to die in the fight? An argument could be made that she should. Once again, there wouldn't be a dry eye in the house if Castiel knelt over her on the big screen, crying as she died in his arms. Metatron would certainly know a lot about that type of situation, having perpetrated it himself when he had stabbed Gail at that convention in Las Vegas. But he felt no pleasure at that recollection now, only shame. Maybe he'd better not go there again, even if it was only make-believe. Boy, he'd been a really horrible guy.

So Gail was going to step up with the big boys and face Lucifer, and if her character survived, and if Castiel's did, theirs was going to be the greatest love story of all time. But what was Metatron writing, an action film, or a love story? Was it possible to have both, or should he just pick a lane?

Dean and Sam were driving down the road in Baby, and the sun was setting on the horizon. How many times had they been in this same kind of situation? Dean had no idea, but if he had a dime for each occasion, they might not have needed Cas to give them that nest egg.

They hadn't told anyone where they were going, because Dean didn't even know, himself. He just knew he needed to spend his last night alive on Earth with his brother. He parked at the Lookout Point and they got out of the car. Sam reached into the backseat and got the green cooler out. They walked around to the front of the car and sat on the hood, the cooler between them. Sam got his brother a beer and one for himself, and they had a silent toast.

"How many beers have we drunk together on the road like this?" Dean mused aloud.

"I don't know. My liver hurts, just thinking about it," Sam responded.

"I know, right?" Dean said. Another moment passed, and then he said, "I know that you and Gail are still planning to do that thing, and I just wanna say, in case it doesn't work - "

Sam cut him off. "It's gonna work, Dean," he assured his brother.

"Yeah, but in case it doesn't," Dean continued. Sam opened his mouth to speak again, but Dean held up his hand. "Shut up, Sammy. I've gotta get this out." He took a deep breath. "OK, bottom line: I love you, Sam. And I know I screwed up your life by coming to get you from school all those years ago. I've had to live with that decision ever since."

Sam couldn't keep quiet any longer. "Are you kidding?" he said to his brother. "My life would have been completely empty without you in it. I love you too, man."

"You know I'm doing this for you, don't you?" Dean asked Sam softly. "You, and Cas, and Gail, and Bobby. Frank and his family. All of you. So you can be safe. But you're the smartest guy in the known universe, and Gail might just be the smartest woman. Though if you ever tell her I said that, I'll have to kick your ass. If anybody can bring me back, you guys can. I believe in you, Sammy." Dean sighed heavily. "But look, Sam. If it doesn't work, or if it doesn't go right and I come back as some kind of Pet Cemetery whacko bastard, just put me down like Old Yeller, and then forget about it, OK? Promise me. Tell Gail the same thing. And then, if I'm really gone, you have to promise me that you'll get married and have kids, before it's too late. The whole nine. Move out of the bunker and out to the 'burbs. Get out of the business. Be happy, Sam. Life's too freakin' short. Go be a teacher, or an artist, or something. And when you have those kids, you can tell them that their Uncle Dean died icing the Devil, so you could all have a happy, peaceful life from now on. And please, Sammy, please: promise me the most important thing."

"Anything," Sam said, around the lump that was forming in his throat.

Dean continued, "I don't care if your kids are straight, gay, transvestites, or whatever. Just, for God's sake, make sure that you at least expose them to some classic rock. Let them hear some, I'm begging you. Then that way, when they're old enough, they can make the right - I mean, their own choices. Please, Sammy. I'm begging you, here. No pop music."

Dean's lips were twitching now, and Sam smiled warmly at his brother. He knew what he was doing; just trying to lighten the mood a little. Both brothers were crying now, but they were laughing through their tears.

"Whatever happens, I just want you to be at peace," Sam said a moment later, in his serious voice. "I'm pretty sure we're gonna get you back, but in case you don't, I'll see you on the other side. We all know death isn't the end. We'll either both go to Heaven, or to Hell. There's no way the two of us will be going to different places, Dean. Despite our differing tastes in music, we're like the same person."

Dean nodded. That was true enough. "Don't worry, you'll be fine here without me," he told his younger brother. "You've got a whole big family now of people who love you. They'll keep you company and help take care of you until you and I can be together again. But take your time getting there, Sammy. Live your life to the max, in the meantime. There'll be plenty of time for us to hang, later on. Look at Cas and Gail. They're gonna be around forever, together. We're gonna be like them, Sammy. I know we are."

Now both brothers were crying again, because both of them knew that there was absolutely no guarantee that any of that would happen. They had no say in the matter. Absolutely none. Sam and his algorithms. There were about a million combinations and permutations running through his head. But he wasn't going to say anything about that. There was no reason to, none at all. It was what it was. You couldn't choose to have faith only when things were going right.

Sam put his beer down and grabbed Dean, pulling him into a hug. The brothers sat there on the Impala's hood, locked in the embrace to end all embraces, until the sun went down. Then they silently got back in the car, and Dean drove on.

VIGNETTE - LUCIFER - IF I HAD A ROCKET LAUNCHER

In the script, the four Originals were combining their powers to knock the crap out of Lucifer, who was on his last legs now.

Lucifer. The Devil. Satan. Beelzebub. The ultimate Villain. It didn't matter what you called him, his name was synonymous with Evil. But Metatron knew something that almost no one else did; Lucifer was only one of many forms of Evil. There were other beings out there who were just as bad, or maybe even worse. Metatron should know; he used to be one of them. But it was Lucifer who got all of the press, because he had the notoriety.

Simply put, the Villain in any story exists to present an impediment to the Hero reaching his goal, whatever that may be. Most of the time, the Villain was given a back story, something to explain how they got to be so evil. Their mother didn't love them enough. Dad ran away with a hooker. Something. Something that makes you feel almost sorry for them. But sometimes, evil was just evil, and a bad seed was a bad seed. Some recipes were already spoiled going into the oven, and some babies were rotten at the time of their creation. Hmm. Creation. Pun definitely intended, in this instance.

The Villain's main motivation for his or her nefarious deeds usually included a hunger for power, and there was definitely a certain element of that in the things that Lucifer had done. But there was also a petulance about the Devil, an unpredictability that made him scary simply because many things he did made no sense. Villains' actions normally had fear at their very root, though there wasn't a bad guy alive who would admit that, of course. But the question was, fear of what? What could Lucifer possibly be afraid of? Who the hell knew? Maybe the scariest thing of all, the very thing that Metatron was terrified of: total and utter insignificance. At the end of the day, everyone wanted to matter. Whether you were a human or an otherworldly being, you wanted there to have been a purpose for your existence. You wanted to leave some kind of a mark, something that said "I was here, and I mattered." Many people had children in order to leave a legacy, if they were unable to make that mark themselves.

Now that Metatron had his writing, he was content that he would have his legacy here on Earth. The books and scripts he was creating now were hardly the Word of God, but they were being recorded for posterity, and best of all, they had come out of his own head. Metatron's stories were like his children. With any luck, they would survive for future generations to enjoy. Little pieces of art that were proof that he had been here, and that he had mattered.

As far as Lucifer went, it was hard to tell what he wanted his legacy to be, if he even thought about such things. The year of the death squads had been pretty epic, but it had only lasted one year. Not nearly long enough to make an indelible mark in history. Lucifer had also been The Rev, and his podcasts and TV shows would be on YouTube if people cared to watch, but soon they would be supplanted by cute baby videos and new song parodies.

Well, tomorrow morning, it would cease to matter. In real life, just as in the script he was finishing up right now, the Angels were going to take the Brothers Winchester to the hallowed ground in Madagascar. There, they were going to set up the Tablets in the star pattern, then call Crowley and Metatron to come. Then Sam was going to take Lucifer's blade and kill Dean with it in the circle of the Tablets, and then some kind of ancient magic was going to happen that would lead to Lucifer's undoing. The reality would probably be just as epic as the scene in the movie, but Metatron was only in control of the latter.

He wrote the death scene, putting as much pathos in it as he could. Then he saved it in his computer and e-mailed it to Richard, letting the producer know that he had an appointment tomorrow morning and would be unavailable for a while. But he hoped Richard liked the scene; he had poured his heart and soul into it.

Then Metatron sent a message to Castiel on their frequency, advising that he was standing by for the call.