To Be Shown the Beauty

by Straight-Outta-Hobbiton

A Cas is saved by Destiel love wrapped up in a fic about two archangels who simply need to remember who they are and who they love. Dean/Cas, Lucifer/Michael

Title: To Be Shown the Beauty (They Didn't Even Know They Held)
Author: anioleczka
Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Castiel wouldn't have turned into a douchebag. Simple.
Pairings: Lucifer/Michael, Dean/Castiel, minor character/OC pairings
Summary: They weren't supposed to have anything to do with this… Problem. They were just supposed to get their memories back, fall in love, and go live on a little ranch in Wyoming where they'd never be seen by anyone important again. But of course, when does the script ever come into play with anyone who knows the Winchesters? Now the entire crew's got to fight- for themselves, their kin, their love… *Special Guest: Neil Gaimen's Dream King*
A/N: I didn't get too far in the Sandman series, so I'm not sure if the bit about Morpheus being older than God is accurate. It probably isn't, but, artistic license and all that. Also, Morpheus is one of the Dream King's names, and since it's so tedious to call him 'The Dream King' every time he speaks, I'm referring to him as a Matrix character. Shut up, I did research, too.
A/N2: The title is taken from the Emilie Autumn song 'Liar' and vaguely revamped. For fun I put the song in my fanmix.
A/N: This started out as a purely Lucifer/Michael fluffle thing… Then, this happened… I'm not very sorry for it, either.

It's dark. Everything hurts. It's a feeling he's not used to.

He moans and tries to move, tries to find a piece of his body that doesn't hurt, but everything feels stiff, awkward, as though he's not used to maneuvering with arms and legs.

He feel hands, big and warm on his chest.

"Jesus Christ- don't move! I've gotcha!" there's a beeping sound and the accented voice is chattering breathlessly. "Yes- I need an ambulance in Brookstone Park. There's a man here- there's so much blood- please, hurry-"

"Dark…" he murmurs.

"Don't you dare die on me!" the accent commands. "And your eyes are closed- of course it's dark."

His eyes flutter open and he sees a man in a black trench coat and a black v-neck that's tucked neatly into pinstripe pants.

"What's your name?" the trench coat man asks.

He blinks, trying to remember. "Lucifer."

The man snorts despite the obvious worry shown in the wrinkles on his face. "Nice to meet you. I'm Jonah."

Black fuzz creeps into the edges of Lucifer's vision, and despite Jonah's demands for Lucifer to remain awake, he sinks back into unconsciousness.

Lulu's sitting calmly in the fields of the Jacobs Family Farm, her legs pulled into a neat lotus position under her rose pink dress. The wind is pulling teasingly at her hair, and she grins despite herself. It always liked to ruin her hair, pulling the flowers she'd meticulously braided in free and tugging curls from their pins. It was playful. It was sweet.

She closes her eyes and relaxes, allowing her essence to free itself from her body. It roams amongst the plants, scouring the farm and surrounding woods for new things to explore and learn.

Lulu loves these moments, calm and perfect and few as they were. It was beautiful, the way the world was through the Soul Eyes.

There's something in the woods, and it isn't quite human. In fact, it's got the rather distinctive taste of divinity…

And it was bleeding. It was bleeding blood. Real, human blood.

Lulu's up and on her feet before her essence can comfortably settle itself in her body.

She finds him, bloodied and broken, about a mile into the wood. He's on his stomach, and his back is a mess of blood and leaves. She kneels beside him, pushing her fingers through his black hair soothingly as she tries to assess the damage.

"Come on, sweetheart," she murmurs frantically. "Wake up. Tell me how I can help. Please."

He doesn't reply, doesn't move, but she can feel his mind open like a flower in bloom and all she can feel is the single word pulsating through his being.

Michael.

"Michael, you'll be alright," she tells him, pulling out her phone from her pocket. "You'll be fine."

He doesn't reply, but then, she didn't expect him to.

It's the beeping he hears first. It's slow, rhythmic, and irritating.

Lucifer opens his eyes and the light is too bright, the room too white. It makes him grunt and squeeze his eyes shut again for a minute.

"Want me to turn off the light?"

Lucifer knows that voice. "Yes," he rasps, his throat dry.

Lucifer feels the light dim from behind his eyelids and when he opens his eyes the second time, it doesn't hurt so much.

"Jonah," he breathes, looking at the man seated beside him.

Jonah smirks, large teeth just barely visible through the thin lipped smile. "Nice to know you remember my name."

Lucifer gives him a hesitant smile in return, gazing at his rescuer. He was English, judging by his accent, and his blonde hair was done just like Morrissey's, though Lucifer didn't know that. He was still wearing the things he'd had the night before, though it doesn't look quite as pristine as it could have been.

"What happened to your back?"

Lucifer blinks. "What do you mean?"

"You were bleeding from your back," Jonah says slowly. "When I found you. You had two slices down your back, like a butcher tried to cleave you. What happened?"

Lucifer tries to remember, he really does, but there's only emptiness before the pain in the park, and he really can't think of anything.

"I don't know. I just remember, remember my name."

"Which is Lucifer." Jonah doesn't sound like he believes him.

Lucifer's eyebrows knit together. "Why don't you believe me when I say that's my name?"

Jonah stares at him for a long moment, then sits back, rubbing his face with a hand. "Just… strange name, is all." he pauses, then adds awkwardly, "Do you have anyone to stay with? When they let you out, I mean."

"No."

"Oh."

Michael is on his stomach, breathing in the scent of roses and lavender. He's been awake an hour, but had yet to open his eyes. He's just too comfortable in the darkness right now, pressed into soft fabrics and pillows.

The door creaks open just as his stomach growls, and reluctantly he opens his eyes.

The woman who's entered is carrying a tray filled with lovely edible things like strawberries and toast and smiling sweetly at him.

"It's good to know you're awake, Michael," she tells him, and her voice is like bells in the rain, soft and sweet and muted. She sets the tray down on a little table and goes about opening the curtains to let in the orangey light of sunset. Once the room is painted with the bright light, she perches on the edge of his bed, clasping her hands on her lap.

"I'm Lulu," she says, cocking her head to the side. "You're in Milton, Maine. Do you remember anything?"

Michael tries to roll onto his back and finds that it's extremely painful to do so without help, which Lulu gives. When he's in a sitting position, he replies, "No."

"That's too bad," Lulu says with a sigh, offering a bright blue bowl filled to the brim with strawberries. "Because I would like to confirm my theories…"

Michael delicately takes a strawberry with his thumb and forefinger, gazing at it curiously. "What theories?" he asks. He sounds at ease. Peaceful.

Lulu blushes. "I, uh, I'm a Wiccan. I was going through my meditations and I found your essence in the woods. It- uh- it felt vaguely divine. And your name's Michael, so I'm thinking you're the archangel."

Michael bites off the tip of the strawberry as he thinks. He chews and swallows, marveling inwardly at the taste before replying.

"I don't think I'm him. Sorry."

"Oh, that's alright." Lulu doesn't seem the least bit disappointed. "You might just have been saved, or something, and the remnants of the divine presence might just have been clinging to your soul as a sort of aftertaste. It's not important. I was just worried about whether or not I'm waiting for the beginning of the apocalypse, or some such thing."

Something flickers in the back of Michael's mind like a candle flame, and for a moment he feels like he's going to remember something important.

"Brother…" he breathes, his brow furrowed.

"Michael?" Lulu puts a hand on his shoulder, but he twitches out of her light grasp.

There's a scruffy blonde man and a tall man with long brown hair and they're two different people but they are one and the same. He jerks and the pain from his back brings him from the vision.

"What happened to my back?" he asks, his voice strained as he tries to stop moving. Or tensing. Or relaxing.

"I'm not sure, but it's pretty shredded." Lulu fingered the bandages wrapped around his torso. "I got one of my coven members to fix you up. He's a surgeon at the local hospital, so I figured he'd be alright."

"Why didn't take me to the hospital?" Michael asks.

"Because that involves paperwork and I don't want to kill trees." Lulu puts another strawberry in his hand. "Eat, and if it hurts, there's pain medication next to the orange juice." She points to the little plastic cup filled with white tablets. "Don't take more than two. I have to go now- I have to pick up Whisper from school. Will you be alright?"

"Yes." Michael looks up at her from under his shaggy black hair, his soft eyes soft and innocent. "Thank you, Lulu."

Lulu smiles and her nose crinkles under the freckles. "It's no problem, Mikey. Now eat. You're going to need your strength."

She leaves him.

Jonah's house is very small- it's more of a shack, really, and Lucifer doesn't like it. He's not really a fan of small, dark spaces, it seems.

"I think I was locked away, before," he offers as an explanation when Jonah asks, 'before' meaning everything before two nights ago.

Jonah just nods. He's no stranger to being locked away. He had a year in prison on top of three years of institutionalization claiming that he could read minds. He still thinks he can, though he doesn't really talk about it.

"If you like, you can sleep on the little porch in the back," Jonah offers. "I can give you a sleeping bag."

Lucifer smiles and it's like Jonah's given some third-world kid a thousand dollars. "You're such a good person, Jonah."

Jonah's ears turn red. Not really. Arson and burglary didn't really add up to 'good'. "Whatever you say, Luci."

The truth is, Jonah only took an interest in Lucifer because, after the initial mental cry for help, his mind was completely closed off to Jonah. He can't hear a single thought going through Lucifer's head, and it's like someone hit the mute button on the static buzz of a television. Jonah loves it. It's the sort of painkiller that he needs, after spending time amongst a majority of vicious, greedy bigots.

Besides, Jonah's under the impression that even if Lucifer's mind was open, he wouldn't be thinking the stupid petty things that normal people think. He'd be thinking about how pretty the lights are in the distant city skyline or how the clouds look like bunnies today.

He just seems the type.

Lucifer eats with him, moving gingerly so as not to upset his back too much. He seems surprised and pleased at the taste of curly fries, as though he's never had them before.

"I can't remember anything, so I very well may haven't," he says, eyeing a malformed fry with the sort of intent a kitten has on a toy.

"I'm beginning to wonder whether or not you've been living under a rock for your entire life," Jonah replies, watching Lucifer dip the fry into the remaining ketchup. Lucifer looks up questioningly.

"Yeah, and when you finally decided to leave, you managed to insult someone by saying that you've never had curly fries and they beat you up."

"It's insulting to not have eaten curly fries before?" Lucifer's eyes are wide in a sort of serene panic and how does he manage to look both?

"It's just a joke, Luci," Jonah assures him. "You won't get in trouble."

Lucifer relaxes and returns his attention to his fries. Jonah watches the blonde for a minute more, then looks up at the television.

What a strange man.

"I think I have a brother," Lucifer remarks suddenly, inspecting another ketchup-covered fry before popping it into his mouth.

Jonah blinks. "How do you reckon?" he asks casually. If Lucifer has family, he might be able to return him and maybe he'll find out his real name.

Lucifer's forehead wrinkles as he tries to find words to explain. "I see two faces… A man with black hair and a teen with blonde."

"So you have two brothers."

The blonde shakes his head. "No, I… The men. They're two different people, but there's something…

They're both the same people. They're both my brother. My older brother."

Jonah waits for more that doesn't come. "What's his name?" he prompts.

And God, does Jonah wish he hadn't asked, because the look on Lucifer's face is completely heartbroken when he looks up from his meal.

"I can't remember."

Michael wakes up to the sound of singing and the smell of pancakes. Bewildered, he sits up too quickly and manages to make a throb of pain run through his entire being. He tenses for a minute, waits for it to fade, then slowly stands, his bare feet coming in contact with the cool wood of the floor. He shivers, then smiles slightly at the feeling. He can't recall ever feeling cold, but then, he can't really recall anything.

He casts around for clothes and finds a pair of neatly folded jeans and a shirt that makes him think of the word India, whatever that is. He slips on the clothes and goes downstairs.

Lulu is flipping pancakes in rhythm to music that's playing from a small radio in the corner of the kitchen.

A little girl dressed in a blue sundress with curly brown hair exactly like her mother's is quietly humming along as she colors at the kitchen table.

Lulu notices Michael standing in the doorway. "Good morning, Michael. I hope you're hungry."

Michael pauses, then smiles slightly, bashful. "I think I am."

She smiles reassuringly. "Good. Sit down, and I'll get you a plate."

He takes the seat across from the little girl and she looks up at him with clear blue eyes. She smiles.

"I'm Whisper," she tells him, her voice like liquid metal and gravel all wrapped up in a child's lisp. It's lower than one would have imagined, but it's not unpleasant.

"I'm Michael."

Whisper grins and laughs before going back to her coloring.

"Here you go." Lulu puts down a plate of flapjacks on the table in front of Michael. "Strawberry syrup or blueberry?"

"Blueberry."

"Totally pegged you for a strawberry guy," Lulu remarks. "To each his own, I guess." she goes back to the stove and starts cleaning up.

"Who's playing on the radio?" Michael asks, his mouth full of pancake.

"Rihanna," Lulu says with an eye roll. "My ex got me the CD for our anniversary and Whisper likes it."

"What's the name of the song?"

"Love the Way You Lie Part II. Why?"

Michael swallows. "It reminds me of something. A feeling."

Lulu sits beside him. "That's a good start. What's the feeling?"

Michael bites his lip and concentrates. "Guilt. Misery. Anger. Loyalty."

"About what?"

"I'm not sure. Something about my, my brother…" he tries, he really does, but the memory slips away like smoke in a breeze. "I'm not sure."

Lulu squeezes his arm. "It's alright. It's a good base." She sits back. "And now we know something. We know you have a brother."

"But the feelings…" Michael looks at Lulu, his eyes troubled. "What if I did something, Lulu? What if I hurt him? What if I killed him?"

"You aren't the type, Mikey," she reassures quickly. "I've seen your soul. I've felt it. You wouldn't hurt anyone."

"Think so?" he asks hopefully.

"I know so," Lulu says firmly. "Now eat."

It's been three weeks since Lucifer and Jonah have met, and they've fallen into a sort of routine. Jonah leaves, Lucifer cleans and does housework and explores, Jonah comes back, and they eat dinner and watch movies that for some reason Lucifer's never seen, like Star Wars or Harry Potter. Sometimes they work in the garden. For instance, last night they planted the core of Lucifer's favorite fruit- an apple. This has become a completely normal day for Jonah, and he expects it.

This isn't an expectation.

When Jonah comes home from work this day, he finds Lucifer in a thick-trunked apple tree that wasn't in his backyard when he left that morning.

Lucifer waves from his position on one of the thicker branches, his feet dangling a good foot above Jonah's head.

"Hello, Jonah," he greets, hopping gracefully from the branch and onto the grassy earth beneath him. He's barefoot, but that's pretty normal for him. He bites into an apple that's a perfect shade of red and shiny, even in the moonlight.

"Uh, hey, Luci," Jonah replies, faint. "I- when did this get here?"

Lucifer cocks his head to the side and surveys the tree. "Um… a little after one? He was eager to grow." He rolls his shoulders, stretching the black scars on his back, sighing in content. "I like apple trees. I was climbing this one when I remembered a very fine one, from when I was a boy…" Lucifer's eyes are wide in excitement, eager to tell Jonah the newest of his recent memories. "It was in a beautiful garden, surrounded by wild animals and flowers and grass. I remember slithering up the branches, tasting the apples on my tongue as I moved. The bark felt a bit smoother, though." He looks back up at the tree, then back at Jonah's slack-jawed stare. "What?"

"Lucifer- trees aren't supposed to grow like this," he stutters, stepping back. "Not this fast- It's unnatural."

Lucifer looks confused. "But, it only did what I wanted it to. Why is that wrong?"

"Trees are slow growers!" Jonah chokes out. "It's not supposed to be so quick- that's why they live for so long!"

Lucifer stares at him, eyes narrowed as he tries to understand.

"Like Ents?"

Such an innocent (albeit geeky) question makes Jonah's meltdown stop in its tracks.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the Ents are really old, right? And smart. I thought it was because it took so long for them to grow. That's why they're in Ent school for so long."

Okay, Jonah doesn't really understand, but okay.

"Yeah, sort of like that." Jonah scrambles for a way to make Lucifer understand. "And 'cause you made him so big when he's so young, the other trees will probably think he's retarded, or something, because they won't understand what happened to him." Because yes, this was completely, utterly, Lucifer's doing.

"She," Lucifer murmurs, patting the trunk. He turns his sad blue eyes on Jonah. "Do you think I should make her small again? And let her grow up like she should?"

God, the innocent question sounds so strange coming out of an adult's mouth. "I think- Can you?"

"Of course."

"Then yeah," Jonah tells him, throat dry. "Yeah, you should make her little again. So that she can go to Ent school with trees her age."

Suddenly the branches shake and Jonah looks up to see the tree shrinking, folding in on itself until it falls back into the dirt, nothing but a seed once more.

"How long have you been able to do that?" Jonah asks, stomach in his shoes.

Lucifer looks troubled by his friend's reaction. "I don't know. It's just like how I can make dust go away, or make the fridge not be empty."

Jonah's noticed both of these things- but he hasn't thought the explanation would be linked to something this, well, insane, until now.

"Oh," he breathes, swallowing. "Well."

Lucifer ducks his head. "Sorry for frightening you. I should have told you."

Jonah shakes his head. "No, no. It's fine. I mean, I wouldn't have believed you." I can barely believe it now.

"Oh." Lucifer looks up into Jonah's face. "Well, I'm still sorry about scaring you." He looks into the

kitchen. "Are you hungry?"

Jonah's stomach growls audibly. "Uh, yeah."

Lucifer smiles. "Let's go eat."

Jonah stops him from going inside, biting his lip. "Wait."

Lucifer obeys.

"I- since we're talking about weird things we can do, I-" he takes a breath. "I can read minds. I can read everybody's mind, except for yours."

Lucifer nods and gives him another half-smile. "I knew that already."

Jonah shakes his head quickly. "Oh."

They go inside.

Michael's adjusted rather well, despite the fact that everyone he's met that isn't part of Lulu's coven has asked him if he has any designs on her already tainted virtue.

He didn't really care about what the people say. Lulu's nice, and Whisper's sweet, and rumors aren't going to stop him from walking with Lulu to pick her daughter up from school each afternoon.

It's been three weeks since he landed in the woods, and so far all he can remember is little things- the smell of the sand in the Sahara, the feeling of Roman soil under his feet, the biting air of the Arctic tundra.

"Maybe you're an immortal traveler," Lulu offers after listening to his latest memories. "And you've seen it all."

Michael laughs at the idea. "I doubt I'm anything that interesting."

Lulu has a look on her face that Michael doesn't quite understand when she reaches under the soft brown couch to pull out a little package.

"Here." She hands the package over, and he stares at the plain brown paper for a moment before carefully ripping away to reveal-

A journal.

It was a deep shade of purple, much like the blanket in his room, and made of leather. He flipped it open to reveal page after yellowing page of empty lines.

"I thought it might help if you write down what you can remember," Lulu tells him timidly. "It might make it clearer."

Michael smiles and hesitantly pulls her into the first hug he feels he's ever given. "Thanks, Lulu."

She blushes.

Jonah's been researching in his free time. There's a lot of shit to go through, since he's researching Satan, but still.

He doesn't find too many promising things, though he did find an interesting series of books that capture his sort of manipulative innocence and honesty rather well, but the plot itself involves a pair demon slaying brothers who stop the apocalypse, and how unlikely is that?

He's decided that it doesn't matter. Lucifer hasn't set the world on fire, and he doesn't seem to be planning on it. He likes mint chocolate chip ice cream too much.

They're sitting on Jonah's checkered bed covers this evening. It's nearly midnight, and they've been in the same position for nearly one hour- Jonah sprawled across three-quarters of the mattress, and Lucifer taking up the remaining quarter by assuming the lotus position at the edge of the bed. They're listening to an old record that Jonah had 'lying around', which simply meant that he'd stolen it from an ex. It was Suzi Quatro's greatest hits, and Lucifer found himself enjoying her pleasant, slightly ragged voice.

Then the song their listening to hits the climax of the song.

"Michael! Michael! Michael!" Suzi's voice tears through the calm of Lucifer's brain, and he moans as he pitches forward onto the floor, clutching at his chest.

He's seeing a little, cluttered house, and a wounded man with black hair being tended to by a heavy-set black woman and a familiar gigantic man. He's bloodied and sick and all Lucifer can feel is a strange mixture of worry, euphoria, pain, adrenaline, and relief.

"Michael," he whispers under his breath as he begins to see the dirty carpeting of Jonah's room again.

His head snaps up so he can look at Jonah, who hasn't noticed anything through his audio high. "Jonah, I remember!"

Jonah blinks. "Remember what? When did you get down there?"

"My brother's name is Michael!" Lucifer says excitedly, getting onto his knees so his face is inches from Jonah's. "And Michael is here- well, not here, exactly, more like Kansas, but- Jonah, can we go? Please?"

Jonah blinks at him, confused. "Dude, I told you- you have tons of brothers. The one everyone knows is Michael."

"I know- but he's the one I remember, and it's really important that I get to him."

Jonah has a flash of the things he's learned over the last week. "Why- do you want to kill him, or something?"

Lucifer looks vaguely hurt. "He's my brother. Why would you say something like that?"

The Brit gives him a look. "You know why."

"'I don't want to kill him. I want to-" Lucifer's brow furrows as he tries to think. "I don't know, but something really important is supposed to happen. Something that should have happened a long time ago."

That doesn't sound so promising, but the look on Lucifer's face is just so earnest, he can't help it.

"Sure. We'll pack up in the morning."

Lucifer friggin' squeaks and hugs the taller man. "Thanks, Jonah."

Jonah just nods back.

It isn't long before Lucifer bids him good night and leaves to go to his place on the porch.

Jonah lightly bangs his head against the wall behind him.

What the hell did he just do?

"Do you still think that I'm an angel?" Michael asks Lulu one evening over dinner.

"You know I do," Lulu replies, cocking her head. "Though I am open to believing anything else."

Michael nods and glances out the window at the sunset. Whisper's sitting on the porch, gazing at the sky earnestly.

"I've remembered something new." He looks back at Lulu. "You remember how the radio was playing the Rolling Stones this morning?"

"Yeah, Sympathy for the-" Lulu stops.

"The Devil," Michael finishes, nodding. "I remembered something about him." He puts down his fork. "I'm supposed to meet my brother somewhere in Kansas- I'm not exactly sure where, yet, but it's in Kansas."

"Are you going there to fight?" Lulu asks quietly. "Because if you are, you know I can't-"

"I'm not going to fight," Michael says, and there's a slight tenor of frightening power in his voice and his eyes are sparking electrically. Lulu shrinks in her seat a little and Michael's eyes soften.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice soft and human again. "It's just- God, I can't even remember, but all I know is that I'm tired of fighting. I just want to see my brother again."

Lulus thinks back to her siblings, Josie and Martha and Rodney, and the fact that they won't take her Christmas calls and send back all her letters, and knows she knows exactly what Michael's talking about.

She takes a breath. "Alright," she says. "Alright. We'll pack up while Whisper's at school, and we can go."

Michael gives her a smile that could light up the world.

"Thanks, Lulu." He pauses, then adds, "You're the best."

Lulu cocks an eyebrow. "And you think I didn't know that before you came around?"

Michael chuckles and clears away the dishes.

Lucifer hasn't got much to pack- just a few days' worth of clothes and a little sketchbook got from a friendly old neighbor that was older than the damn town. He's done in a few minutes, and then proceeds to throw all of Jonah's clothes into the wash. He doesn't have much either- though it's certainly more than what Lucifer has.

Jonah comes home to find everything he'd want for the car ride packed, including all of his favorite snacks, CDs (with Abba's greatest hits tucked in the pile, because even if Jonah saidhe didn't like them, it wouldn't be the first time Lucifer's heard him humming it under his breath on his dish day), and even the blanket his mother had given him before he'd come to America.

"You work fast," he comments, watching Lucifer toss the duffel bags and cooler into the backseat.

Lucifer shrugs. "I'm like that."

Well, he is a fallen angel.

Jonah smiles. Maybe, when this is over, he can write a sitcom. Satan Is My Roommate, or maybe, Jonah and the Angel.

It's a work in progress.

"So, where to?" Jonah asks, putting the pick-up in gear.

"Kansas," Lucifer says simply. He looks forward. "We'll figure it out from there."

And if anyone else had said that, Jonah would have stopped. He would have ordered them to get out of the car, off of his property, and to never come back. But this is Lucifer, and yes, he's the Devil, but he's managing to make Jonah believe in something Jonah himself had been afraid to believe in.

The worst part? He's not even sure what it is.

Michael picks Whisper up from school at the usual time, dressed in his strange colorful shirts and jeans. He's always barefoot, even though he walks up a gravel road to get to the parking lot of Whisper's school.

She's sitting alone at the edge of the school steps, her face buried in her arms and her messy braid falling apart.

He sits quietly beside her.

"What's wrong, Whisper?" he asks her quietly.

She looks up at him with a red, tearstained face. There's a cut on her cheek that's oozing blood still, slow and ugly.

"Mrs. Remington said the Mommy was a hippie whore who'd burn in Hell because of me," she tells him. "And Terry pushed me off of my swing." She looks over his shoulder at the little ginger haired boy. Michael followed her gaze and suddenly Terry lost his balance and fell down the steps onto his face.

Michael turns back to Whisper, pushing a curl out of her face.

"Your mother won't go to Hell, don't worry," Michael says comfortingly. "Mrs. Remington only said that because she sold her soul so that her husband would never find out about her multiple affairs. She's the one that will be in Hell. Not Lulu. Never Lulu." He wipes his fingers across the cut, causing it to disappear under his touch. "I promise."

Whisper smiles at him, eyes still watery. "Thanks, Uncle Mikey."

Michael returns her smile and stands, putting out a hand for her to take. "Come on, sweetie. Lulu has dinner waiting, and then, when we're done, we're going on a road trip."

"Where are we going?" Whisper asks, taking his hand and skipping slightly so her deep green dress fanned out around her.

"We're going to Kansas to find my brother," Michael explains, his feet light on the gravel as he led her back down the road.

"You mean Lucifer?" she asks, her face screwing as she tried to keep up with his long strides. He gives her a look and she hurriedly explains. "I could hear when you told Mommy about him. I can hear everything."

Lucifer cocks his head. "What do you mean, 'everything'?" he asks, curious.

"I can hear Marissa in her Mommy's car lying about how she didn't get time-out today and I hear Bobby Mathers telling his friends that he's gotten to 'second base' with his girlfriend Jeena and I hear Mrs. Remington rubbing her privates on Principal Jonizzi. I'm very clever. But that's not important. You're changing the subject."

"No, I think this is very important," Michael murmurs. "But you are right. I am changing the subject." He looks at the little girl. "What would you like to know?"

"Your brother's name is Lucifer- but isn't he the Devil?"

Michael nods. "Yes, he is."

"But you're an angel." Whisper screws her face in concentration. "How can he be your brother?"

"A lot of demons were my brothers, once." Michael sighs. "But they weren't very nice to our Father, and so he- he threw them out of the house. Out of Heaven. So now they live in Hell. A lot of them are very mean."

"But not Lucifer?" Whisper asks hopefully.

Michael sighs and gives her a small smile. "No, I don't think so. Not anymore."

Whisper gives him a hug round the middle. "Good. Because I don't want you to die."

Michael's eyes water and he doesn't know why. "Thanks, Whisper."

Whisper looks like she's going to say something else, but it's drowned out by the screeching of car tires along gravel and pavement. She screams and clutches to Michael's hand as he pushes her behind him. A white Hummer is speeding up the road, swerving violently on the little path. It's heading directly for them. For Michael.

It screeches to a stop just before the nose can hit Michael. The engine promptly begins to smoke as the driver falls out of the car, drunk.

Michael takes Whisper by the hand and leads her away, ignoring the scene they've left behind.

Jonah realizes about twelve hours into the ride (Lucifer took over the wheel after about three) that they hadn't yet stopped for gas.

"I didn't want to have to," Lucifer explains with a shrug when Jonah asks.

A benefit of having the Morning Star for a friend? A fuel tank that never goes empty.

Lucifer only stops when Jonah begins to yawn, somewhere around two in the morning. He pulls into a little motel parking lot, sets them both up, and they rest until Hell knocks on their door.

Or, to be more specific, Belial knocks on their door.

Lucifer cocks his head at the demon, eyes narrowed to slits. "What are you doing here?" his voice is edged with a hiss.

Belial looks genuinely confused. "Master, I- I await your orders."

"Go away!"

Belial's eyes turn black as he breathes in deeply, his tongue flicking out to taste the air.

"Is… is there a human inside?" Belial gives his master an ugly grin. "Are you… Human?"

Lucifer takes a step forward, a huff of laughter passing through his lips. His fingers brush Belial's cheekbone as he speaks.

"Not quite."

His hand twists violently and Belial's head spins on its shoulders. There's an explosion of blood from the vessel as it falls to the ground, useless. He stands there, grinning like an idiot, feeling a blackness creep over his heart and clench it with an icy grip.

"Luci?" Jonah grunts from his bed. "Luci, who knocked?"

The deathly hand retracts and Lucifer leans heavily against the door, eyes wide.

"No one," he gets out. "Just, needed some air."

He hears Jonah turn over and grumble about not being able to get a good night's rest. Lucifer might've been vaguely amused if it weren't for the dead body on his hands. He glares at said body willing it to disappear into the concrete. Molecules fight him for a minute or so before bending to his will, sinking into the floor as though the flesh and blood of the vessel was meant to be there.

Lucifer sighs and shuts the door.

This might not be so easy.

Michael is leaning his head against the cold window, his breath fogging up the glass. Whisper sits asleep in his arms, her little face tucked against his chest as her mother drove through the rainy night. Muse is playing quietly on the radio, quiet, high vocals humming sweetly through the patter of rain.

Michael's almost sleep. His eyes are heavy, his breath is slow, and all is well in his mind.

Suddenly the hood of the car is ablaze, and the car is veering violently off the road and into the grass.

"Fuck!" Lulu's pulling at her seatbelt, but it won't open. The flames are getting closer, and it's painfully hot, something Michael's not yet experienced. He's not enjoying it. He pulls at his own seatbelt, and it rips in two easily. He does the same with Lulu's before slamming the arm not wrapped around a whimpering Whisper against his door. It flies out into the field a good three yards away.

He pulls Lulu out roughly and starts to run, clutching Whisper close to him.

"Hit the deck!" Lulu screams. They drop just as the car explodes, singing the back of his neck with hot air and flames.

Michael hears a small chuckle and looks up to see a chubby balding man standing before him.

He says the man's name before he even realizes he knows it.

"Zachariah." It comes out a disgusted snarl, belittling and hateful all at once.

Zachariah gives him a mocking look of hurt. "Aw, big brother, don't act like that. It's all for the best."

He's gone before Lulu can see who Michael's talking to, and though she's curious, she's got more important things to worry about.

"Is Whisper okay?"

"She's fine." Michael knows this. He feels her heart beating through her chest, her blood pumping under her skin, her breaths tickling his shirt. He rolls off of the little girl, giving her a chance to sit up, breathe, and be inspected by her mother.

"That was cool!" Michael's mouth falls open as Whisper turns her excited eyes on him. "It was like a James Bond movie!"

"What- Who let you watch James Bond?" Lulu demands, which, granted, isn't very important at the moment, but she has to cope with her car exploding and she almost went with it- it's sort of funny, the fact that she could've just died in a hearse- but anyway…

"I'll call 911?" Michael offers, because it was him that let Whisper watch James Bond, and he doesn't really want to be yelled at.

"Yeah, that would be smart."

Lucifer's asleep one moment, then sitting bolt upright the next, eyes wide and breathing hard.

"Goddammit, Zachariah," he mutters, seeing flames and rain and an arrogant, smirking face.

"Who?" Jonah's sitting quietly at the shitty little table in their motel room, sipping what looks like a shitty little coffee in a shitty little cup.

"Zachariah is one of my brothers," Lucifer grits out. "And he just tried to kill Michael."

Jonah pauses, setting down his coffee. "And you know this how?"

"I saw it."

"And you're sure it's real?"

Lucifer gives him a look.

"Right, stupid question, you're magic. Should we get going?" Jonah glances at the clock as he says this, which states in angry red lights that it's six-thirty in the morning.

Lucifer shuts his eyes for a minute, and it sort of looks like he's checking his Inner Eye for more visions. He opens them again with a sigh of relief.

"He is no longer in danger," he tells his friend. "I think we can have breakfast."

"So, where were you going, again?" The cop looks skeptical. He's the one who looked over the damage caused to the car, and seems to think nothing less of a bomb could have caused the damage. He though they were drug lords, or something.

"Lawrence, Kansas," Michael answers. The answer was automatic, the first time, and now that it's said again, it makes sense. It began there, it would end there. Too bad he doesn't know what 'it' is. "We're going up to meet up with my brother."

"And his name is?"

"Luce."

"A boy named Luce."

"Our Dad had a sense of humor." Michael pauses for a second, searching through the officer's mind. "Sort of like that Johnny Cash song. A Boy Named Sue?"

The officer snorts. "I never would have pegged you for a Johnny Cash fan, boy."

Michael wants to laugh at the officer's ignorance. He's older than earth itself, and this man is calling him 'boy'?

"Well, yeah, I like everything." Michael searches the officer's mind, then makes himself blush, his tones slipping into a slight Tennessee accent. "I sorta had a crush on Dolly Parton when I was a kid- I loved that movie 9 To 5. She was a classy lady."

"Still is." The officer shuts his notebook, giving the trio one last look-over. "You two can go."

Lulu smiles prettily at the officer, balancing a sleeping Whisper on her hip as Michael thanks the cop and leads them out.

Lulu's smile disappears as soon as they're out of sight.

"We're really going to Lawrence?"

"Yes."

"Christ." Lulu rocks Whisper slightly. "I told you about my family."

Michael inclines his head. "I know you'd prefer not to see them, but I must meet my brother there. And if you really don't want to see them, you don't have to."

"I know," Lulu says darkly. "But they'll still get angry 'cause someone will see me and report it to my father, and then I'll get an angry call about me forgetting family, even though it's them who forgot about me."

Michael doesn't say anything because in the end he knows she misses them, no matter how hard they are on her.

"So, how are we going to get there?" Lulu asks after a moment.

Michael sighs and tugs at his hair. "I don't know."

"So, we're going to Lawrence?"

"Yes."

"In Kansas."

"Yes."

"That's bloody boring."

Lucifer smiles slightly. "It isn't that bad, actually. Some really good people live there."

"Good people live everywhere," Jonah points out. "You just have to find them."

"And that's why we're going to Kansas," Lucifer says. "To find some of the more important ones."

Jonah sighs heavily and sinks into his seat. "Fine."

Lucifer's quiet for a moment. "He's got a girl with him."

"Who?"

"Michael." Lucifer frowns and concentrates. "She found him when he, fell. She's got a daughter, who's five."

"Is she single?" Jonah asks, not because he's interested or anything. "What's her name?" Okay, maybe a little.

Lucifer inclines his head. "Her name is Lulu. She is alone." He pauses, then adds, "She has no interest in my brother."

There's something about his tone that Jonah pretends not to hear. The tone that says he's pleased that this Lulu girl isn't interested in Michael but is confused as to why that is at the same time.

It sort of sounds like he's an ex who's still just a little bit smitten.

But that can't be true, so Jonah doesn't say anything, instead choosing to turn up the radio until Morrissey's voice drowned the thought in a vat of pop misery.

Michael's lying on his stomach in a rundown motel room, his eyes glued to the screen of the out-of-date television. Whisper is asleep beside him, curled up in her mother's sweatshirt and leaning her head against side. Lulu is beside her, her eyes on a road map.

"There's a bus that can get us to Topeka, and we can take a bus from there," Lulu offers. Michael sighs and pauses the television.

"It'll take too long." He sits up carefully, tugging at the end of his ponytail with his free hand. His hair grows quickly, it seems, now that he is, for all intents and purposes, a mortal. "We need a car, or something else that will take less than the minimum of six hours that it will take to get there."

Lulu opens her mouth to reply, but then there's a knock on the door. Michael answers it, expecting police or maid service.

He was not expecting a little angel with brown hair and a lollipop in his mouth to grin up at him.

"Hey, Mikey," Gabriel greets, taking a step inside. "I heard you needed a ride."

"We'll be in Lawrence in a little less than an hour," Jonah tells his friend, who's idly letting his hand surf in the wind out the window.

Lucifer smiles. "We'll be there before him, then, I think," Lucifer replies. "He's not there yet."

"Unless another demon comes your way," Jonah reminds Lucifer.

Lucifer stiffens. "How did you find out about that?"

Jonah giggles, his eyes switching to black as he turns to look at Lucifer.

"Hello, Daddy."

Of course it was fucking Crowley.

"Get out of him." Lucifer's voice is tightly controlled when he speaks. "Now, Crowley."

Crowley only smirks and pulls the car over.

"Lucifer, darling, what are you doing here?" Crowley drawls, and suddenly Lucifer realizes that he should have noticed this earlier- Jonah didn't speak the Queen's English. "We thought we'd had you and your charming brother locked up."

Lucifer clenches his hands into fists as he tries to keep calm and suppress the urge to cause the vessel to explode.

"How long have you been in there?" he asks, ignoring the question.

"Since this morning."

Not long. That's good.

Crowley leans close. "What are your plans, Lucifer? World domination? Destruction? Re-entrance to heaven? Times have changed. We won't allow that."

"I want nothing but to be left alone, little boy," Lucifer says pointedly. "I want to find my brother and be left alone."

Crowley frowns thoughtfully and sits back in his seat, reclining. "That's a nice idea, Lucifer, very nice. But you know we can't take you at your word."

"Since when do you refer to yourself as 'we'?" Lucifer asks.

Crowley shrugs. "Like I said, times have changed. I made an alliance with Castiel- do you remember him? He's the new God, now. Yes sir, he's been killing off your siblings like never before. He's making Stalin's Purges look like a game of Cowboys and Indians."

This is not supposed to be possible. "The Winchesters have allowed this to happen?" he asks, his voice rough. "On their watch, these things have happened?"

"They aren't exactly the brightest people on earth," Crowley says thoughtfully. "Their best friend and the only one who could tell them anything was the cause. They didn't know until it was too late to change anything." Crowley pauses, then adds, "Cas will probably kill them soon. They'll try to stop him."

Oh, no. He's not allowing this. He's not allowing the two brightest souls in humanity end their hard work with such a betrayal.

"How's it feel?" Lucifer's voice is dry as a desert.

"To be King of Hell?" Crowley asks smugly.

Lucifer turns slowly to look at him. "How does it feel to know that you- the supposed King of Hell- is nothing more than a lapdog to a mad angel who believes he can unravel everything that my Father ever created?"

Suddenly Lucifer's hand is on Crowley's throat, squeezing not the flesh but the demon within. He bares his teeth, nose to nose with Crowley.

"You come near the Winchesters or any of their allies, you die," he says softly, soothingly, tightening his grip as the demon struggles. "You come near me, my brother, or any of our allies, you die. In fact, I'm surprised you didn't know that rule. I suppose I should be kind, since it's a first offence, but-" Lucifer chuckles darkly. "I'm not really in a giving mood right now."

He's not called the Devourer for nothing. He tilts back Jonah's head and presses his lips against the open mouth, swallowing whole the damaged soul that is Crowley. It tastes like soot and blood and whisky, and it revitalizes Lucifer in a way that cannot be described. Letting out a pleased breath, Lucifer sits back, tired but sated.

"What the fuck was that?" Jonah asks weakly, panting and sweat-soaked.

"That was Crowley, the smarmiest little asshole I've ever made," Lucifer replies after a moment. "You should take a break."

"That sounds good, actually," Jonah replies, eyes rolling up into his head.

Gabriel explains… everything. It's a lot to take in.

Every angel who's ever died has been resurrected and retaught. Everyone, whether they were good, bad, fallen or not.

And now it all rests on the shoulders of Michael, Lucifer, and whoever they can find to bring Castiel back down, because God thinks it's good to challenge his children once in a while.

"Luce is in Lawrence," Gabriel says after he thinks Michael's had enough time to think. "You can see him tonight."

Michael blinks and tries to feel out Lucifer. He shakes his head. "His companion is resting after a painful possession. He should take care of him first."

Gabriel looks over his brother- who's dressed in jeans and a homemade sky blue shirt, complete with golden bird embroideries- and nods, a smile breaking across his face.

"Sounds like you're doing better, Mikes."

Michael nods. "Yeah, I suppose. I mean, I didn't kill Zachariah when he set the car on fire."

Gabriel's mouth twists. "Excuse me?"

"The nasty fat man got in front of my car," Lulu says, her words dripping with poison. "He destroyed my car. Could've killed my girl."

Gabriel's eyebrows furrow as he looks at Whisper, who he's taken a liking to.

"I'll deal with this," he says decisively. "See you in the morning."

He's gone, leaving his oldest brother to re-tuck Whisper into bed and wish Lulu a good night before drifting off to sleep himself.

"Dean."

Dean jerks at the familiar voice. He looks up to glare at the Angel-God-Thing.

"Go away."

"Crowley's disappeared." Castiel doesn't move, his smiling eyes strange in the blank face.

Dean lets out a harsh laugh. "Good."

"He's been devoured."

"You should really learn how to handle your impulses, Cas."

"Not by me." Castiel doesn't seem bothered by Dean's accusation. "By Lucifer."

Dean blinks. "Did you toss Crowley into the cage or something?"

"They are on earth, Dean. Michael and Lucifer." Castiel looks away. "They are weak, however. I need you to dispose of them."

Dean dislikes that word, but he's more pissed off at the fact that Castiel assumes that he can make them.

"Why should we? They'd do a better job than you. At least they were honest about what they wanted."

A flash of hurt crosses Castiel's face before settling once again into strange blankness.

"They're near Lawrence, Dean, and they seem to be finding followers for whatever causes. They seem to be working together, Dean. That means the destruction of everything. Heaven, Hell, Earth. Souls will only float in the darkness."

"You won't be there, though," Dean points out. "That's all I ask for, right now."

"Neither will Sam. You will be all alone and that's just the one thing you can't have." Castiel gets closer, nose to nose with Dean. "Do this for me." He puts on a big smile filled with sharp edges and foul feelings. "Please."

Dean looks away. He can't look into those dead eyes. It's like talking to the fucking Joker.

Maybe it isn't the best thing in the world, being Batman.

"We'll check it out," Dean says after a moment of struggling with himself. "But we'll see about the 'disposing' of them'."

Castiel nods. "Good."

He's gone with the flutter of rusty metal and shattered glass.

Dean sighs and flicks open his phone.

"Sammy? We got a job."

Lucifer shivers with anticipation. His brother has entered the little town, and he can't wait until they meet. He feels the pull to the train tracks, and he's sure Michael does as well.

"You'll like him, I think," he tells Jonah as he leads them toward the meeting place. He's barefoot, of course, and his tattered black jeans drag against the cement. At least his pale gray button down is clean, though he doubts Michael would care. "He's like me, except more… fiery."

"That's a foreboding thought," Jonah drawls. He's still tired, with bluish rings under his eyes from recuperating so rapidly. "You're hard enough to handle as is."

Lucifer smiles. "You know I won't do anything bad, though."

"I know. It's still scary."

"I know."

Gabriel watches his older brother approach, his human a step behind him. He, Lulu, and Whisper were standing beside Michael- well, not exactly beside him- more like a step or two behind him. This is an important moment. They don't need to be on center stage for this.

Lucifer stops. Jonah does as well, mimicking Gabriel and the girls and falling a step short of his friend.

Michael and Lucifer stare at each other for a long moment, looking each other over and probably remembering the last time they saw each other.

Then Michael's face splits into a smile. "I've missed you, you fucker."

Suddenly they're hugging and laughing and it's such a cliché but it's great. Love all around.

It's kind of cute, Gabriel thinks.

Of course, it's ruined when a bullet goes whizzing by Gabriel's ear and skims Michael's arm.

"Take cover!" Gabriel shouts, turning to face the attacker, a shiny angelic gun in hand. Yeah, upgrades rock.

Apparently demons have been upgrading, too. There are about fifty of them now, and he hadn't felt a single one appear. Shit, Cas has been teaching them trade secrets, hasn't he?

He starts shooting, seeing from out of the corner of his eye Michael and Lucifer drawing out matching whips of water and flame as they move into battle positions, complimenting each other like they once did.

His bullets are never-ending, but there only more demons with each passing second.

That's when he hears Dean.

"Get down!" every human and angel hits the floor as a blast of power decapitates every single demon. It's perfect. Until Cas shows up and shoves a knife into Michael's gut.

Three bullets hit the once-good soldier and though it does nothing to him, he still disappears, because he knows as well as anyone that if one brother's dead the other's as good as.

Lucifer catches him before he hits the ground just as Dean, Sam, and a stout black woman carrying a hex bag.

"Get him to my house, angel," the black woman shouts at him, and of course she's a psychic. He does as she asks, taking everyone else along for the ride.

Lucifer puts his brother on the kitchen table, his hands fumbling to stem the bleeding.

"The blade was poisoned!" he cries when he pulls his hands away to reveal black blood.

Gabriel kneels beside his brother as the psychic fumbles for bandages and washcloths.

"I can change the power of the poison," he mutters into Lucifer's ear. "It won't kill him. But it'll hurt. It'll put him to sleep."

Lucifer looks into Gabriel's eyes, cold, hard, and angry. "Do it."

Gabriel sighs and pushes Lucifer's hands away to get at the poisoned blood. He feels his grace flow into his brother, and after twenty painful seconds, he lets go.

"He won't die once we stop the bleeding," he says. "Sammy, how about you patch him up? Where's the lady who owns this place? "

"Right here. I'm Missouri," she introduces as she hands Sam needles, thread, peroxide, washcloths, and bandages.

"Could you set him up somewhere where we can keep an eye on him?" he asks. "In the living room, or a guest bedroom, maybe?"

"I have a pull-out couch."

"Perfect."

Missouri nods and makes her way to the living room to start setting up for her patient.

This is gonna be a long day.

Once Michael's settled on the couch and hidden beneath blankets and pillows, Gabriel sits Dean and Sam down at Missouri's kitchen table, completely ignoring the other humans, who sit down anyway, mute and ignorant.

"How did you know? About them?"

"Castiel told Dean about them," Sam explains quickly.

"He wanted us to kill them," Dean says shortly. "I said no."

Gabriel cocks an eyebrow. "Really? So then why are you here?"

"To see if he was telling the truth," Dean says simply. "He's been lying for a while, now."

Gabriel grimaces. "I heard. And he had such potential."

"How are you even here, anyway?" Sam asks, cocking his head. "You died at that hotel."

"Dad raised all the angels about a month ago, when Luce and Mikey got raised," Gabriel explains. "Even the bad ones like Zach and Uriel."

Dean wrinkles his nose. "Shit."

"It isn't so bad. Zach tried to kill Mikey already, so I took care of him, and the rest of the 'bad angels' are completely useless now that the List has been recovered."

"What list?"

Gabriel shrugs. "The List of Pairs. Dad made it during the Seventh Day. It has a list of every angel in the Universe and their supposed other half. Michael hid it when he realized he wasn't in it. Which was stupid, because once you've found your other half your name gets crossed off. Of course, Dad had to reset everything once they hid it, because it wasn't fair that only certain angels had their partners while others didn't." He sighs. "Most of my brothers forgot about it."

"So he didn't raise them to help us, you know, stop Cas?" Help Cas?

Gabriel rolls his eyes. "Dummies, when humans find true love, they'll do anything for their partners, right?" at their silence, he facepalms. Humans aren't all this stupid, are they? "Think about your parents. Your dad spent his entire life trying to destroy the demon that killed Mary."

"What, did you know her or something?" Dean scoffs.

Gabriel gives him a strange look. "I was the one who told her that angels would watch over you, sunshine."

Dean blinks. "But I thought you were outta Heaven by then."

Gabriel shrugs. "Dad can find me whenever he wants. He asked me to do it, so I did."

Dean sits back. "That's fucking surreal."

"Anyway," Sam begins pointedly. "What's the plan? Find Castiel's partner and hope he'll listen to her when she tells him to stop?"

"Pretty much," Gabriel agrees. "And I think it might help if we get his army, too. Balthazar's working on that bit."

"Okay, so how are we going about this?" Dean asks, leaning forward.

Gabriel makes a face. "See, here's the thing- most of the angels are paired off with humans, except for a few select 'special' ones."

"Like those two," Sam observes, looking into the living room, where Lucifer knelt beside his brother.

"Exactly."

"Wait, what?" the two turn to look at Dean. "They're brothers!"

"Angels are different, Deano," Gabriel explains in mock patience. "We don't reproduce or have any fear of having messed up gene pools. We don't care." He smirks and lightly brushes Dean's hand with his own. Dean stiffens and blushes, because he now has a very clear picture of exactly how much Gabriel knows about his and Sam's teenage stress relief.

He nods mutely and Gabriel continues. "All the names are on the List, but the thing is- they're not in order. That's okay, though, because we've got a present from Dad. A blessed stone. When someone touches it, they can see their other half."

"But…" Sam prompts.

Gabriel sighs. "Dad raised me about two months before everyone else," he admits. "I've been working on this longer than the other angels. Problem is, if the angel's been killed, the human dies as well. A few of the people we found touched the stones and died within forty-eight hours. Then Dad raised everyone, including these humans, except didn't raise them so much as reincarnate them. Now we have to find them again, except these ones will be infants."

Sam mulls this over. "That means you guys have to collect kids, too, then?"

Gabriel nods. "It seems that when they die, they all are reincarnated, which is useful, but that means we've got all ages. We're lucky, though, because most of them are under forty."

"'Scuse me?" Dean asks.

Gabriel smiles. "Well, we've got these twins- Gladys and Darlene. They're eighty-seven. A set of firecrackers, if you ask me. They're funny."

Dean makes a face and Sam elbows him.

"So what happens when the humans know their partners?" Sam asks. "Do the angels know too?"

Gabriel shakes his head. "They need to be found and brought to the place we're hiding everyone right now. A kiss from their partner seals the deal."

Dean sits back with a groan. "So not only do we have to find Castiel's future girlfriend, but we have to get him to kiss her."

"He kissed Meg pretty quick," Sam points out, and Gabriel lets out a guffaw.

"He kissed Meg? Oh, God, that's precious." Gabriel continues to laugh, wiping at his eyes with the hand not holding onto the table.

"What's so funny?" Dean demands as the angel struggles to right himself in his seat.

"Nothing, it's just- she's the one helping us with the stone," Gabriel explains. "We've had to start guarding it so kids don't touch it too young." He lets out a pleased huff as he relaxes. "She also found us the place where we've been hanging."

"You're joking."

"Nope."

"That's frightening," Sam says plainly. "She tried to kill our dad."

"Yeah, she did," Gabriel agrees. "But her name's on the List."

"How the hell do you know it's her? There must be a thousand Megs in the world," Sam points out.

Gabriel gives him an odd look. "Do you think that List consists of names like 'Anna Jones' and 'Martin Smith'? These aren't mortal names. These names are your true names- you soul's name."

The Winchesters stare blankly at Gabriel.

"Every soul has a name written in their very essence," Lucifer intones from behind the brothers. He looks tired, as though he can feel whatever Michael has to fight. "It's how we find vessels, among other things. However, most angels can only see their own vessels. They can't find another angel's unused vessel unless specifically shown."

"So how are you finding the humans?" Dean asks, looking at Gabriel.

"The help of psychics, mostly," Gabriel tells them with a shrug. "Sometimes witches help, too. Our people come from mixed backgrounds. We have kids like Sam, who are only partially human, then we've got demons, kids who were raised in witchcraft- it's a hodge-podge of supernaturally touched folk, really."

Dean bites his lip as he thinks. "The humans- do they all tend to have backgrounds touched by the supernatural?"

Gabriel looks thoughtful. He nods. "Usually, yeah. A lot of the girls in particular are psychic, actually."

Dean grins. "So why don't you ask hunters about the people they've worked with or helped? Or even the hunters themselves. I'm sure that could help with the search."

Gabriel's eyes widen and he smiles brightly, slapping Dean on the back. "I knew you had a brain, Winchester."

"Of course he does- he just has some trouble using it," pipes up Missouri as she begins handing out plates of sandwiches for lunch. Dean makes a face at her when she isn't looking, but she smacks him with her wooden spoon anyway. You can't hide things like that from psychics.

"I think after lunch we should go back to base," Gabriel says as he takes a sandwich. "Missouri, you too. Our little brother's gone a little nuts. It's probably safer to be with us."

She gazes at him shrewdly. "And I can help with the search," she adds, her beady eyes narrowed in an 'I can see through your bullshit' kind of way.

Gabriel just shrugs. "Yeah, that too."

Missouri sighs and rolls her eyes, patting the archangel on the head. "You're sweet, tiny."

Lucifer snorts quietly than freezes because as long as his brother's sick he can't be happy.

Sam hands him a sandwich. "Eat. We've got shit to do."

Lucifer takes this as a peace offering and does as he's told.

They're standing outside of a fucking mansion in the middle of the fucking woods.

"It's been abandoned for about two hundred years," Gabriel explains as he leads them up the steps to the front door. "We fixed everything up and put so much work into the spells and sigils protecting this place that literally the only way you can get in is if Jean wants you here."

"Who's Jean?" Lucifer asks. He's holding his brother bridal style because he can't stand anyone else touching him, and it makes quite an interesting picture. Jonah thought about teasing him about it earlier, but keeps anything he wants to say to himself. Now's not the time for homo jokes, especially since they were considerably accurate.

"She's the Lady That Glows," Whisper pipes up. They whole group looks at her and she shrinks against her mother's side.

"What do you mean, Whisper?" Lulu asks softly, looking down at her daughter.

"She glows like Uncle Gabe does, except brighter. Can't you see her?" Whisper points at an empty space beside Gabriel, and sure enough, now there is a woman with curly blue hair to her hips and a lip ring dressed in a bright orange sundress.

"Very good, sweetheart," she says, and her voice is like warm honey. "You're very powerful, you know."

Whisper nods. "Uncle Mikey says so, too."

Jean smiles. "Well, my half-brother is very smart then, isn't he?" she looks up at the rest of the group, her eyes lingering on each human face before settling on Lucifer. She bows low, making her hair brush the stone patio beneath her bare feet.

"I'm Jean Darling, the Daughter of God."

There's a sharp intake of breath that ripples throughout the group. She shrugs their awe away as though it were a cloak.

"Don't do that, guys. My brother's the cool one." She beckons them forward, pushing open the door.

"Gabriel's going to have to go now- he's got a great idea for Balthazar, thanks to you, Dean Winchester."

She gives him a wink and for fuck's sake, Dean blushes as though he were fifteen and a virgin, not a mid-thirties hound dog.

Gabriel grins and salutes the group. "See you around, kiddies. Don't get lost and don't eat anything blue or pink."

He disappears before he can be asked what he means by that, but by the devilish look in Jean's eye, the group should do as he says.

"Bloody strange crowd," Jonah murmurs to Lulu as they enter the main hall.

Lulu just smiles. "I think we'll have to just get used to it then, huh?"

Jonah shrugs. "I have the strangest feeling that we'll all fit right in, here."

She's thinking the same thing, and he knows it, too.

The main hall is basically a giant, cavernous room covered in lots of gold, marble, and people in various stages of dress. Mostly the people are young women no older than twenty-five, but there are quite a few shirtless men scurrying around as well, not to mention children running around in diapers, chasing after strange balls of brightly colored light that float through the crowd.

Everyone is very pale, Dean notices after a moment, even though hair colors all tend to be bright and unnatural. Everyone is wearing pastel colors, too, though the clothes themselves range from cargo pants and tank tops to bloomers and corsets. It's all very strange looking, like a scene from a The Phantom of the Opera or the brighter part of a Tim Burton movie. Everything looks eerie, despite the warmth of the room itself.

"Why's everyone look like they've been dipped in white-out?" Lulu asks as she surveys the room.

"It's a side-effect of the Blessed Stone," Jean explains. "It just bleaches people. That's why a lot of them have dyed hair." She pauses thoughtfully. "Their eyes all get a lot brighter, though. It's sort of cool looking." She points to the children. "Those kids touched the Stone before we decided to move it. We used to keep it in the main hall, and whoever thought they were ready could have easy access, but after a few kids touched the Stone and found that their partners had been killed…." Jean sighs sadly. "We had to put it in one of the panic rooms."

"What happens if the angel gets killed now?" Sam asks, "Since everyone's been raised, already."

"We wait until we have enough angelic power to raise them ourselves," Jean replies, weaving through the crowd easily. "It sucks to find out your partner's dead."

"Auntie Jean! Auntie Jean!" Jean turns and catches a little boy with dark skin dressed in soccer shorts in a hug.

"Hey, Donnie, how are you?" she asks when she lets him go.

"Look what I learned how to do!" he cups his hands in front of her and shuts his eyes tight as he concentrates. After a moment of nothing, a small green shoot stems from the center of his hand, growing and blooming until he's holding a daisy. He hands it to her with a smile.

"Good job, Donnie," Jean tells him, tucking the daisy behind her ear.

"How'd you do that?" Whisper asks, he head cocked to the side.

"It's my power," Donnie tells her proudly. "I'm a Plant Kid."

"How about you show Whisper around, Donnie?" Jean prompts. "You can show her all the cool things that you can do around here."

Donnie nods. "Sure!"

Whisper looks at her mother questioningly, who nods in encouragement.

"Go on, sweetie."

Whisper grins and follows Donnie into the crowd.

"We've got a lot of kids here," Jean says after a moment. "Most of them we've found in foster homes, but there are a few like Donnie who have parents who are actually good folk. He visits them on holidays and throughout the summer. They think he's in a boarding school like in X-Men, I think. They don't quite understand that he's on the List."

"How old do the people have to be when they touch the Stone?" Jonah asks, looking around. "There's not really an age group that I can tell."

"Well, we want them to be around eighteen, usually, but sometimes we get lucky and an angel touches the Stone and find someone a bit younger. It's sort of interesting to see, because you can always tell who. The humans just sort of seize and start getting really pale. It takes about an hour."

Jean leads them into a golden elevator that takes them up three floors before smoothly bringing them to a stop.

"The infirmary," she explains to the group. "For Michael. We have some angels on call that can help."

"I dreamt of Jeanie and here she is!" says a loud, cheerful voice. A man appears with curly red hair to his shoulders and bright blue eyes, grinning brightly. "Are you showing new people aroun-" he stops when he catches sight of Lucifer and Michael.

Lucifer cocks his head. "You're Raguel, aren't you?"

"Y- yes, I am." Raguel continues to stare, his confusion obvious.

"Michael's sick, Rags," Jean says softly. "He was poisoned. Can you help him?"

That snaps Raguel out of his reverie. "Of course, of course. I'll run some tests, isolate the poison. Would you like to stay, Lucifer?" he doesn't even stumble over the name.

"If I can," Lucifer replies.

"Follow me then," Raguel orders, waving his hand imperiously before leading Lucifer down the aisle in between the hospital beds.

"So, now that that's done with, would you like to meet my twin?" Jean asks. "He's in the office with Balthazar and Gabe right now."

Everyone nods and they follow her back onto the elevator.

"Who the hell was that guy, anyway?" Dean asks as Judas Priest plays softly in the background. "He reminds me of Sam's favorite guidance counselor."

Sam facepalms. "Oh, Christ, Mr. Macabee, I remember him."

"He's Raguel. He was one of Jesus' best buds before the whole crucifixion thing." Jean pauses, then adds, "He's also Meg's angel."

"Sorry, what?" Sam's jaw is brushing the floor right now.

"They're really cute together. Quite the pair." Jean nods thoughtfully as she surveys the buttons before pressing a bright green one. "They remind me of a better version of Elvis Presley's song Hard-Headed Woman. Except, she isn't stupid. Just pushy."

"You're head sounds like a jukebox," Jonah complains. "Stop doing that."

Jean grins bashfully. "Sorry. I have synesthesia. I can't help it."

Missouri smacks the Brit. "Leave the poor girl alone, boy. She's got more important things to worry about than your freaky powers."

"You say that like you haven't got any," Jonah grumbles, rubbing his shoulder.

"Stop being such a baby, that didn't hurt," Missouri orders. "And my powers aren't freaky. They're limited edition."

Jonah makes a face makes a point to cut her off when they step out of the elevator into a room filled with cubicles and pale people running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

"They're working on finding the people Listed," Jean explains loudly. "The left-hand corner by us? They're doing the spells that make it easier for angels to find and collect people. Next to them are the people who list newcomers and make sure we don't search for them again. The right hand corner closer to the windows deals with people who've been matched up, and the ones furthest from us deal with deaths and monitor for reincarnations." She pushes open a big door painted with the letters BOSS, allowing streams of Def Leppard's 'Pour Some Sugar On Me' to filter into the noisy room.

Three people look up from a large map that seems glued to the table. Two of them are familiar- Balthazar and Gabriel, leaving the man with pink hair as long as Jean's with a nose ring to be-

"Hi, I'm Morgan, Son of God."

Well, at least he's got taste.

"We've been working on numbers over the last month or so to see if there are any patterns when it comes to locations, bloodlines, whatever," Morgan explains, pointing to the map. "Mostly, we've got nothing. There is a general rule in which- if there are over four siblings in the family- if one of them is on the List, they all are. Same goes for twins, triplets, etcetera. Most of the Listed seem to be on the coasts, but that might just be because of the fact that that's where the better part of the population is centered. We couldn't think of anything else until you guys brought up the supernatural contact."

Morgan bends over a tablet, tapping at the glass rapidly with his first three fingers. "We went through the files, we saw pretty consistent patterns. The Listed are beacons for trouble. A lot of them are orphans because of vampires, werewolves, demons- shit that wouldn't have touched their lives if they weren't who they are."

"It isn't all bad," Balthazar adds. "Most of them have some sort of genetic anomaly that helps them stay safe and protected. There's one little girl who, when her mother became possessed, managed to make the demon want nothing more but to take care of her and protect her. She's pretty much a walking safeguard."

"We saw that kid Donnie downstairs," Lulu says softly.

Morgan nods. "His power with plant caused a giant, thorny vine to grow through an arachne." Morgan grimaces. "It wasn't very pretty."

"These guys are good," Jonah murmurs. "Like a Justice League, or something."

Gabriel grins, eyes sparkling. "Exactly." He sits forward in his seat, eyes sparkling with excitement. "What we're hoping to do is train these guys and set up bases all across the planet. These people will all collaborate with Heaven, making it more difficult to restart an apocalypse. Plus, with all the angels bonded with a human, it'll make it easier for them to learn about you guys. Sort of like studying abroad."

"What about hunters?" Dean asks pointedly, and Christ, he sounds like a Union worker. "Won't that-"

"Render you obsolete? No, but your positions would change slightly." Morgan shifts in his seat, stretching slightly before settling. "You guys would have better contact with each other, and decent back-up if things go south. You guys would be able to cover more ground, with more insurance than a phone number that might help. It'd also help with newer hunters, especially the hotheads. They tend to need a guiding hand for the first few months, anyway."

"It would also give easier access to information," Jean adds. "Since some partners are werewolves and vampires and things. They can help us learn about the things we hunt, search for cures or spells that can help the more vulnerable keep control."

"We're trying to make it humane," Balthazar finishes. "Make sure nothing gets killed that shouldn't have to be- though, of course, it depends on the hunters involved whether or not the hunted is 'dangerous' or 'reversible'."

"This sounds really good," Sam says quietly, his eyes round with excitement as he thinks through the possibilities and progress that can be achieved through this massive revolution.

"Who'd run all this?" Dean asks gruffly.

"Most of us agree that Morgan, Jean, and their respective should have the most control over it all,"

Balthazar tells the group. "But we also agree that they should have some ties to both Heaven and Earth, so they can both watch the angels who will remain in Heaven while not losing touch with humanity. Just to be safe, you know."

"We know that this needs a lot of work," Morgan adds earnestly. "And we still need to work out a few kinks, but it's what we got."

Sam and Dean share a long look before turning back to the Darling twins.

"We're in as long as you think we have a shot at getting Cas back."

Gabriel grins. "I figured. How about we go to dinner, get everyone settled, and we'll talk a bit more, Deano."

Dean nods without a second thought. "Fine."

Dean leaves with Gabriel during dessert, partially because Gabriel wants to be back for some concert type thing and partially because they didn't want to be noticed.

They're going to see the stone, which is on the eighth floor, in a lovely tower with a single window that stretches across most of the wall space. Meg will be there, and that vaguely frightening, because the last time- well, that's a lie, because he's wanted to kill her since day one, but that's beside the point. A demon is the most powerful thing protecting his only shot at saving Cas- a demon who can turn at any fucking moment.

Well, that's a lie too, since she's apparently bonded to Raguel for eternity. Still, he's in that frame of mind.

"Calm down, Dean," Gabriel orders softly, and that's good. Orders are something Dean knows how to handle.

The door to the room swung open, creaky and loud enough to wake any sleeping guard. Meg stood by the window, staring at the sunset, a black blade held loosely in her left hand.

She's pale as liquid paper, her red lips standing out against her skin and her brown hair looking almost black.

Her brown eyes are filled with flecks of gold now, and when she turns to look at them both, she only smiles, sincere in every way.

"Hello, Dean," she offers dreamily, sliding her sword into jacket before approaching.

"Uh, hi," he replies stupidly. "I, uh, I met your boyfriend."

She smiles. "You're surprised he isn't a dick, I know. To be honest, so was I." she looks up- yes, up- at

Gabriel. "You're just showing off the merchandise, aren't you, pretty boy."

He winks. "You bet, hon. But let's be quick about it, aye? The Show's tonight."

"Oh, that'll be nice to see," Meg says, waving a hand at the open air. "You're performing?"

"I wouldn't miss a chance to flaunt my mad skills," Gabriel says cheekily. "The Wolves are dancing, too.

You should come."

"The moment I'm not here is the moment the Stone will be taken, Gabe, you know that." Her eyes flash to the podium that wasn't there before and she glows as though she's looking at her child.

"True," Gabriel concedes, leading Dean back to the center of the room.

The stone itself is about the size of a bowling ball, swirling with foggy color around a warm, glowing light.

"The Stone itself's been around for thousands of years," Gabriel explains as Dean stares, transfixed by the strange creation. "It was hidden in an Egyptian tomb until recently, when we found it."

"What happens to someone who isn't Listed if they touch it?"

"Nothing. It's just a rock to them- well, and to the Bonded. Meg can touch it without any trouble."

Dean cocks his head. He's seeing blue, his favorite shade. But then it's eyes and then-

He jerks back, breathing hard. "Whoa."

"What's wrong?" Gabriel asks, eyes on the hunter. "Did you-"

"What?" Dean sounds defensive, even to himself.

"Did you see anything?"

Dean shakes his head. "Nope. No, I just- it's kinda mesmerizing. I'm not a huge fan."

"It can do that to a person," Meg trills as she returns to her window.

Gabriel looks at him for so long and so hard that Dean's almost sure that he's caught in the lie. But then he nods.

"Okay, then, let's go. I've gotta get ready for my performance!" Gabriel ushers Dean out of the room and back to the dining hall before disappearing into the crowd of pastels.

Dean just tries not to think of the color blue as he searches for Sam and the rest of their group.

'The Show' is basically what happens when a lot of musically talented people with nothing better to do make up little bands, dance teams, whatever, and basically play home made films and even have a few live performances.

Gabriel's set was good, though his rendition of 'Paint It Black' seemed a little improvised.

Apparently there happens to be a ton of shape-shifters in the group- not the sort of shifters that Dean and Sam kill, but more like the kind in fantasy books. The kind that can change into their 'spirit animals', and pray to the moon and weird shit like that. About six of them turn into wolves, all of them girls, and they've turned themselves into a dance troupe.

"Wolves are more common in the way of shifters," Lulu explains to Dean as they watch scantily-clad girls dance to Shakira. "The leader of my coven could do it. It's the cheetahs and the tigers you have to worry about- they're usually a lot more dangerous, when they want to be." She sounds completely serious, so Dean doesn't question.

"Where's Whisper?" he asks instead.

"She's made a few friends," Lulu tells him warmly, nodding her head at a group of children no older than eight.

Dean smiles. "That's good."

He glances over at his brother, who's deep in conversation with Jonah about the differences in American and English education.

"You're brother's a smart cookie," Lulu observes, following Dean's gaze.

Dean chuckles. "Book smarts? Always. He's just got some screws loose when it comes to common sense."

"Oh, I know. I've read the books." Lulu laughs at Dean's grimace. "Hey, you've got my respect. The people you love come first, and I think that should happen more often, to be honest."

Dean blushes. "I- thanks." He looks around suddenly, confused. "Where's Missouri?"

"She's upstairs with Mikey and Luce," Lulu replies. "She says that Luce will need the comfort."

Dean sighs. Missouri was probably right, and that's vaguely scary. Satan needing comfort- Hell must have frozen over.

"I- I'll go find her, then. You'll be fine, Lulu?"

Lulu rolls her eyes. "I'm with your brother and Jonah. I'll be fine."

Dean gives her a salute and heads for the elevator.

The damn thing won't open.

"You're new here, ain't ya?"

Dean turns and finds the twanging voice to be owned by a pretty redhead with big green eyes and trademark paleness.

"Yeah, I'm Dean."

"Winchester?" her eyes light up. "I've heard of you. My angel killed you a bunch of times for fun."

Wait, what?

"Gabriel's you partner?"

She grins. "Of course. Who else could handle that kid? I'm Jolene," she adds, putting out a hand. "I specialize in vessels."

Dean cocks an eyebrow, questioning.

Jolene shrugs. "Sometimes their vessels become too mangled for further use, or they need sex changes or something." She giggles at Dean's stare. "What? Some angels want kids, you know."

"Is that even possible?"

Jolene smiles. "I've known Gabe since I was twelve years old. I have twins by him. Benji and Marie."

Wow, that's creepy. Gabriel's a father. "He found his partner on his own?"

Jolene nods. "It took him a thousand years, but he found me. He even got Dolly Parton to write a song about me when we went back in time for a vacation." She winks at Dean's face then presses a hand to the elevator door. It glides open easily. "The elevator only works for people who've been here a while- two weeks, bare minimum. It can spot malicious intent, too, and usually won't open for those people, either."

"Neat," Dean comments as she bundles him into the elevator. For fuck's sake, Katy Perry? Really? She follows him in.

"Same goes for the buttons," she explains. "Where to?"

"Infirmary."

She nods and pushes the button and after thirty seconds of tasteless pop music the elevator stop and Jolene waves him out.

"Just ask Rags for help getting back down. I'm sure one of his helpers would like a break from his chatter." She grins and the door closes in his face.

Dean turns. The infirmary looks exactly the same as it did three hours ago, except for the fact that now there were twelve normal-colored kids no older than ten sitting up in beds and being examined and questioned by people in scrubs.

Michael has the last bed on the far left. Dean stands awkwardly behind the group before clearing his throat.

"Uh, how is he?"

"It's some sort of sleep spell," Lucifer tells him quietly, his hands folded loosely around his brothers. "Gabriel stopped it from harming him, but, it is as if he is in a magically-induced coma."

"Well, there are witches and stuff around here, right? Maybe they can help."

"That angel boy Rags is handling that now," Missouri says. "But it'll take more than a magic spell to make this go away forever."

Lucifer's head is low, and before Dean thinks about it, his hand touches the blonde's shoulder. "Don't worry dude- it always works out." He pauses, then adds, rather timidly. "Maybe it's like a fairytale. Sleeping Beauty, or something."

Lucifer looks up at him. "I don't think those sorts of things are real, for us. Things don't always work out."

Dean sighs. "You know, everything important that I've ever wanted to happen always has," he says thoughtfully. "Maybe I've got magic powers, too. Maybe, if I want hard enough, this will work out."

Lucifer's quiet for a moment so long Dean thinks he might have pissed him off. Then-

"Thank you," he breathes, looking his brother.

"Any time," Dean says awkwardly. He takes this as his cue to go, then-

"How come you've got wings, sir?" asks a boy in scrubs. "You aren't an angel."

Everyone looks at Dean who blinks. "What are you talking about, kid?" he asks gruffly.

"You have wings, just under your skin," the boy presses. "Why?"

"Gilbert specializes in wounds on the spiritual plane." Raguel is suddenly beside him. "He can see all creatures on a basic system of soul particles. Dean, if he says you have wings, you have them."

"Okay- what?"

"You have a soul, but you have angel wings- why? You're just a vessel, just a human." Gilbert says this matter-of-factly, gazing intently at Dean. His gaze reminds him of Cas, but his eyes are gray, like summer storm clouds. He can't move as the kid approaches, reaching out a hand.

The moment Gilbert's fingers touch the skin of Dean's hand, the world turns black and he collapses with a shout of pain.

Dean wakes up on his stomach to flickering candlelight.

"Son of a bitch, what happened?" he grunts, trying to sit up.

"You were an idiot and let Gilbert touch you," Gabriel answers the question from his seat on a ridiculous velvet armchair. "He's not in complete control of his powers yet, and you let him touch you."

Dean glares at him. "It wasn't like I knew what was going to happen!" he argues. "What happened, anyway?"

Gabriel smiles. "Congratulations, buddy- you're a Flyboy."

"A what?"

Gabriel rolls his eyes in a 'God, he's so simple' sort of way. "When Gilbert touched you, his power released angelic grace that's been tied to you for God knows how long and- well, to put it simply, you've got a nice set of angel wings right now."

Dean's up in a flash. "What?" he looks over his shoulder, and sure enough, heavy black wings tinged with a deep forest green flank either shoulder. "What- can I- can you-"

"You can see them because they're yours, and I can see them because for some reason or another, you trust me." Gabriel looks his wings over thoughtfully. "Sam will probably be able to see them, because kin's always been privy to this sort of stuff, and maybe Bobby."

"How do I make them go away?" Dean asks, stretching out the wings fully. His wingspan is at least twelve feet.

"You mean hide them? Just pull them into your skin."

Dean glares. "And how do I do that?"

"Roll your shoulders a few times and imagine them folding into your soul."

It takes Dean an hour to master that, and another hour to master taking them back out.

Gabriel grins. "I haven't taught anyone how to fly in years, you know," he tells him. "This'll be fun."

Dean blanches. "I'm not flying."

"Yeah, you are." Gabriel makes it sound like he doesn't have a choice. "You have to, or you're wings will start taking you places on their own. It's a hazard."

So he doesn't have a choice.

"Shit," he groans, falling back onto his stomach.

"When did you get ink, Deano?" Gabriel asks suddenly, his thin fingers tracing a pattern on his back.

"What are you talking about?" Dean grunts, still stuck on the 'I have to learn how to fly' part.

"Dude, you have Latin inked on your back," Gabriel says. "Non Timebo Mala."

"'I will fear no evil'," Dean says. "That's on the Colt." He looks at his arms, and suddenly they're covered in Latin phrases and angels and demons and all he can think is when the hell did that get there?

"Translate it," Dean orders. "All of it." He sits back up, putting out his arms. But it's all over, on his chest and back and probably down his legs, too.

"'No mortal is wise at all times'," Gabriel breathes as he traces over another phrase. He glances at another. "'Never despair'." Another reads, "'Nothing is impossible for humankind'."

"'Don't let the bastards grind you down'," Dean murmurs, tracing the calligraphy on his left hand.

Gabriel looks up. "How'd you know that one?"

Dean shrugs. "Sammy read a book with the phrase- but it wasn't real Latin, so he looked it up and told me. And this one-" he brushes his fingers across his right hand. "Mean's 'justice'." He continues, his fingers touching each piece of writing softly as he said it.

"This one's 'I am not led, I lead', and this one's-" Dean's brow furrows in thought before relaxing again, "'you should not make evil in order that good may be made from it'."

"Somebody knows his Latin," Gabriel remarks, grinning.

"I'm good at it, I just don't use it as much as Sammy does," Dean explains with a shrug.

Gabriel gives him a look. "You're a lot smarter than you act, Winchester."

Dean grins. "You should've seen what I got on my math final before I dropped out."

"These phrases are parts of your life." Dean jumps and turns at the sound of Lucifer's voice.

The blonde's head is tilted to the side as he gazes at Dean. "This is an imprint of your soul on your skin. These pictures, these words- they're all parts of your life."

Yeah, that's vaguely creepy, but it's also kinda cool- almost as though the world can see what he's been through, what he does for them.

That's still creepy.

"'Nothing is heavy to those who have wings'," Lucifer murmurs, pointing to the space below Dean's collarbone. "'Bold but faithful'. 'While there is life, there is hope'. 'Either I will find a way or I will make one'. 'I am not lost'. 'Do everything in love'."

"My life in Latin," Dean says awkwardly. Some of these phrases involve feelings that he doesn't quite appreciate being read out loud. "Anyway… I've got to tell Sammy."

"He already knows," Lucifer says serenely. "He threw quite a fit, too."

"That's my boy," Dean says with a shrug. "When do I have to start flying lessons?"

"ASAP," Gabriel replies easily. "First thing in the morning. So I suggest you sleep."

Dean groans and falls back. "This is going to suck."

"It isn't that bad," Lucifer promises. "Michael threw me off of a cliff. The worst you'll get from Gabriel is wing exercises."

"Oh, shut up, Luci."

Of course, Sammy is ecstatic, once he's sure Dean won't be dying or anything.

"You must be the only human being in the world to have this happen," Sam starts, getting his geek on. "The very notion-"

"Sammy, shut up." Dean is hyperventilating, because in about two hours he's going to get pushed off of the mansion roof, he's sure of it.

Sammy does as he's told, but only after Missouri gives him a glare that could peel paint.

"If you have wings, does that mean you're an angel?" Whisper asks from her position in her mother's lap.

Dean shakes his head. "Apparently, an angel thought it would be a good idea to tie themselves to me with their power, though. That's why I can fly, now."

"Not yet, you can't," Gabriel intones. "But you will before the week's out, I guarantee it."

Dean shuts up and looks down at his plate, no longer hungry.

It actually wasn't so bad, mainly because it didn't feel like flying. It felt more like the wind whipped your surroundings away and replaced them with something different.

Landing exactly where you wanted to was hard. More than once he landed on a table or a chair or- in one instance- on a small rubber ball that shot out from under his feet, causing him to fall hard one his ass in front of about sixty normal colored people.

That's how everyone differentiates, apparently- Pales and Normals. Even the angelic match-making business is vaguely racist.

Dean finds it strange that they're kept separate, but doesn't question it. Maybe they don't want people to get ideas about finding the Stone when they meet Pales- because, honestly? Dean's never met such a cheerful, happy, contented bunch in his life.

They're sort of like how he imagines Santa's elves, except for the fact that most of them have disgustingly morbid senses of humor that can only be spawned from shitty childhoods.

Dean feels right at home with them, which made everyone- meaning Sam, Missouri, and all the angels that resided there- look at him like he had three heads.

He ignores them- that's what he's good at.

Ten girls and three boys touch the stone during the first two weeks the Winchesters or there. Three girls die, and one boy.

Gabriel says that's an improvement, but people are still dying, so that's completely useless, as far as he's concerned.

Something in Gabriel's eyes tell Dean the archangel agrees with him, but he says nothing.

It would be a great look for him, if he wasn't keeping his trap shut about something so important.

Bobby knows everything. He's taken to hiding in the panic room and researching possible spells that could be used for finding Listed humans. He also has been keeping an eye on Castiel's movements as best he can, reporting any dead angels that land within fifty miles of his home. Gabriel disappears after each report so he can compile a list of the dead that need to be raised.

Gabriel usually isn't in the mansion, Dean notices. He's always busy searching for people, angels, whatever. He comes back looking tired, which isn't even supposed to be possible, collapses into his seat in Morgan's office, and recites from memory every terrible thing he's witnessed, every human he hasn't found, every angel who won't come with him.

It's a lot of negativity, and Dean's not a big fan. So instead, he helps take care of the younger Listed, children Whisper's age or younger.

Rosemary, Donnie, April, Cyndle, and countless others have shown them their powers, their childish faces glowing with excitement as water flows out from their fingers or their hands run with electricity. Whisper is right at home amongst these phenomenon, telling them the gossip she hears from the 'grown-up' rooms and whatnot. Dean's learned a few interesting things he didn't really want to know, and he thinks she'll end up using her powers against the 'adult agenda' in the long-run, but right now, it's fun.

Though, Dean never wants to hear Gabriel's dirty talk coming out of her mouth ever again. Once was scarring enough.

He's sitting in the garden with the kids when it starts.

"He's coming!" Whisper screeches suddenly, her eyes wide.

"Who-" he's cut off when a giant ball of fire hits the polished stone steps, scorching a nice black spot in the center of the stairs.

"Get inside, now!" Dean's in action before he knows it, picking up younger children to hurry them inside. Donatello, an older boy of about nine, followed suit, his superior strength and balance helping him rush the youngest up the stairs inside.

The doors slam shut just before another ball of flame- this one green- could follow them inside.

"Take cover!" he shouts. "Take the kids to the bunkers. Assemble all weaponry!"

He turns to Whisper. "Can you tell how many are coming?" he asks her.

Her eyes screw up as she concentrates. "I- there are-" she opens her eyes, fear making her tremble. "He brought all of them. Everyone who hasn't been found and Bonded."

That means upwards of what, a billion?

They're so screwed.

"Dean!" It's Jean, a flashy silver gun in each hand. She tosses him one.

Dean pushes Whisper at her. "Take her somewhere safe where there's someone who's dealing tactics. She can hear them. She might be able to help."

"How many?"

"Everyone."

Jean blanches. They're not ready for an attack like that. She takes a moment to compose herself, then explains the gun.

"It puts them to sleep- only to be woken by true love's first kiss." She grins slightly at the irony. "We'll have the boys touch the Stone to the sleeping ones- hopefully we'll make our number grow that way."

Dean nods and without looking takes a shot at an empty space that suddenly isn't empty anymore.

The angel crumples to the ground and Jean looks impressed.

"You got the Gift, my friend," she tells him. She salutes him and drags Whisper into the assembling army.

Dean doesn't ponder what that means before taking shots again, hitting bulls-eye every time.

The handgun is spelled, meaning he never has to reload.

It's pretty sweet.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Every shot's perfect without him aiming. He just knows where they are- he can feel the wind their wings make and he knows everything- who they are, where they'll land, what weapon they'll be carrying.

It's haunting, how with every shot he takes, every moment he takes flight to a new, more difficult plain to fight, every twist, spin, or dodge he uses, he sees blue eyes and black hair, just out of the corner of his eye, watching him. Waiting.

He feels ice in his fingers and he drops the gun, unable to hold it.

Now he's staring into the blue eyes he's been trying to avoid. Everything slows down, and all he can feel is sorrow.

"You poor bastard," he whispers, and he knows Castiel hears him. Castiel just gazes at him, confused and blank and Dean can't take it. He imagines his fingers covered in flames and suddenly his hand doesn't feel like frostbite.

He doesn't go for his gun, instead shooting forward and grabbing a handful of cheap suit, blue tie, and trench coat.

Everything speeds up again and he can hear the Angelspit that's playing through the indestructible mansion speakers, loud and hard and angry. Castiel screeches, clawing at Dean's hand. Dean can't feel it. He looks down and sees his entire fucking arm is coated in white flame.

He throws Castiel back, shaking his arm in an attempt to quell the flames. What the hell did Cas do to him?

He looks up and catches a glimpse of burnt cloth on Castiel's chest before the New God disappears.

Lucifer can hear the battle from his place beside Michael's bed. He can hear Disturbed cheering Gabriel's warriors on. He hears his brothers fighting against their future loved ones, and it makes him sick.

He looks back at Michael, wondering if he should move him. All the healers have left- they need to care for the wounded, fight for the dead.

Maybe it's like a fairytale , Dean had said. Sleeping Beauty, or something.

Lucifer's read the tale. A princess cursed to a hundred years of sleep. It doesn't seem very likely. And even if the tale were correct, wouldn't he have to wait for that?

"Morningstar," a quiet, soothing voice says. It's a voice he hasn't heard in a while.

Lucifer almost smiles. "Morpheus. It's nice to see you on this plane."

"It is… Interesting, seeing you here," Morpheus admits.

"I assume you know of our current condition."

"Of course."

"Do you have advice for me?"

"The elder Winchester is much cleverer than even he knows," Morpheus tells him. "He is more in-step with the world around him then he realizes. Take everything he says into account. There is usually experience hidden in his words."

Lucifer smiles at him. "Thank you."

Morpheus then does the oddest thing. He pushes his hair back so Lucifer can see his eyes, and he smiles.

"You have changed for the better," he remarks. "Your Father would be pleased, if he were here."

Lucifer shrugs and looks back at his brother. "I'm not changing for him," he says simply, and he leans down and presses a kiss to his brother's lips.

Light the color of roses fills the entire room.

Dean's stuck underneath a vessel who must been a bouncer before he'd been taken- he looks like a troll and is drooling like one too as he tries to get a firm enough grip around Dean's neck to strangle him.

Suddenly the weight's gone, and Dean gets up just in time to see Michael and Lucifer break the angel's arms. A third man, with skin like a corpse and a shock of black hair comes presses a hand to the angel's forehead and the struggling stops.

Michael and Lucifer step back to stand beside Dean as their friend reaches into a small pouch, pulling out a pinch of golden sand.

He lets it blow through the air, his whispery voice somehow managing to cut through Otep's shrieks.

"It's past your bedtime, children," he says calmly. "Your Father would be quite upset if he could see what you're doing to his gifts." He lets hoards of angels land, surrounding him and cutting him off completely.

"Who are you?" demands an angel.

The black-haired thing seems to be smiling fondly at the angel who spoke. "You've forgotten your stories of creation, I see. I am what created the thoughts your Father used to breed you beauteous creatures." His smile falls. "What tarnished things you all turned out to be. At least that soon shall be fixed." He raises his arms above his head, his sleeves falling back to show pale arms. "Dream, young ones."

One by one, the angels topple forward, unconscious. The man turns to look at Lucifer and suddenly he's beside him.

"We shall meet again, Morningstar," he murmurs, bowing slightly to Lucifer before turning to Michael. "Take care of your kin, Commander. They need you."

Michael nods, his eyes filled with awe.

Finally the man- angel- monster- no, King- turns to Dean, his strange black eyes alight with curiosity.

"Well met, Dean Winchester," he says finally. "You are truly what I've heard of you." He reaches out to lay a hand across Dean's neck, one of the few places that hadn't been marked. He takes his hand away and a small, squiggly line now inks the otherwise clean skin.

"For the nightmares," he says kindly. "Courtesy of the Dream King."

Dean's eyes widen. "I- thanks."

Morpheus only nods and with a swish of his shadowy black cloak he's gone, evaporated.

"Holy shit," Dean breathes.

"Morpheus is a bit dramatic, but kind to those who deserve it," Lucifer says with a shrug. "When he says something, he means it. Be prepared for unicorns prancing through your dreams, Winchester."

Dean rolls his eyes and slaps Michael on the back. "Good to see you awake and on our side, buddy," he says gruffly.

Michael smiles. "It's good to be on the right side, this time."

"Dean!" the three look up to see Sam picking his way through the sleeping angels. "Dean, did you see that? That was the freaking Dream King! Oh my God, I never thought-" he stops. "When'd you wake up?"

Dean can't help it. He doubles over laughing. Partially from relief, partially from adrenaline, he can't help but feel amazing as loud guffaws fall from his lips.

This might actually turn out okay, in the end.

Castiel is the only one unaccounted for.

Every other angel in existence has been cramped into the mansion, meaning upwards of a billion people are literally piled on top of each other, waiting to be separated and placed into catacombs and vaults hidden beneath the mansion.

It's a damned lucky coincidence, but Dean's not going to comment.

The body count is one hundred and thirty-two. Everyone had been properly paired but for two- Donnie, the little boy who'd taken so well to Whisper, and Darlene, the twin of Gladys, who'd been searching for twenty years.

Dean's there when the first batch of angels are 'given' the Stone. It's pressed into their fingers by Jolene, who's officially the only one on earth who never was captured by the mesmerizing glow of the Stone. Out of the twenty angels, six of them are lucky enough to have their partners in the mansion. Three of them are even luckier, and their partners are over the age of ten. Their names and partners are written on a paper that will be hung beside the entrance of their 'room' in the catacombs.

After the first six hours, out of five-hundred that are Partnered, three hundred and twelve are partnered with 'Lost' humans (meaning dead or still unknown), one hundred and two are Partnered to children and young adults, and the remaining eighty-six have been awakened and are currently having the situation explained to them by Balthazar, Rags, Lucifer, and any other angel who is available.

"What's it like, being Bonded?" Dean asks Gabriel as they watch Jolene place the Stone into a sleeping angel's hands.

Gabriel shrugs. "I can only explain it from an angel's perspective."

"Then explain from an angel's perspective."

The angel blows out a huff of air as he thinks. "It's like- it's like being a moth. She shines. She's the brightest thing in the room, and all I want to do is make her happy." Gabriel sighs. "I'd do anything to make her happy."

Dean nods, letting the knowledge sink in. "That's why you want Cas to find his partner."

"He won't be able to do anything that could potentially hurt her. Or him," Gabriel says with a nod. "I know it sounds like we're taking away free will, but- most of them, it'll still be overwhelming, the things they'll be able to do. Angels work better when they have restrictions, and since Dad isn't around-" he stops and shrugs.

"I get it." And Dean does. It's weird, but since the whole soul thing with Gilbert- and even before that, really- he's been feeling a bit calmer. Mellow. It's like his body already knows everything will be alright.

"So what do we do since we didn't catch him?" he asks after a moment.

Gabriel sighs. "We'll have to go the long way and find his perfect person instead of making him find her on his own."

"At least finding most of the 'unknown' Listed will be easy," Dean points out. "Since they'll all look like Powder."

Gabriel chuckles. "Yeah, there's that." He looks at his watch, which happens to be lime green with a dinosaur on it. His eyes widen. "Shit, I was supposed to be in a meeting ten minutes ago." He looks at Dean. "Take Jolene back to the safe when she's done, okay? Take Lucifer and Michael with you."

Dean nods and he's alone.

It's not even twenty minutes later when Jolene finishes up. "Jean's handling the kids that can wake their angels," she tells Dean, stretching. "Let's go put this baby back in Meg's capable hands."

Dean nods and almost runs into Michael when he turns.

"Gabriel called us," he explains. Lucifer chuckles beside him.

Dean nods, his new mask of blank acceptance well-practiced. He wonders when he even learned it as all appear in the tower.

There's blood everywhere.

Meg groans, blood bubbling from her lips as she attempts to shoo them from the room. Jolene drops the Stone and rushes to the demon, muttering under her breath.

They're thrown sideways against the wall, out of the way.

"I thought you're be dead." The coldness in Castiel's voice chills Dean to his core, and he's vaguely relieved to find that the piercing blue gaze isn't on him, but on the brothers.

Wait.

"We're lucky," Lucifer says steadily, taking a step forward, partially blocking his older brother from view.

Castiel cocks his head. "Well then, I better make sure you're not lucky again, haven't I?" he murmurs, and then next moment he's nose to nose with the Morningstar.

Lucifer chokes, blood pouring from his throat. "Fuck," he gasps, falling back. Michael catches him, his throat catching on his own blood.

One can't live without the other.

Dean gets thrown backwards against the wall, slamming the door shut with his weight.

Castiel looks back at Dean, then at the Stone, which has rolled to his feet.

"This is your secret weapon?" he asks, looking at it as though it were nothing more than a curious trinket. "This is your plan to overthrow my reign?"

Dean says nothing. He can't.

Castiel looks genuinely confused. "Why do you want to destroy me? All I want is to succeed where my Father failed. The world should be cared for- I will love them, and they will love me."

That breaks Dean's silence. The words rip through his throat, angry and raw.

"You call this love?" he cries, struggling against the invisible force that kept him pressed to the wall.

"You call killing the gifts God gave your siblings love? You don't know what love means- we loved you! Sammy, Bobby- we loved you, Cas!" he gulps. "I loved you!"

Castiel seems unmoved. "What is the purpose of the Listed?" he asks instead, looking gazing intently at Dean.

"God's gift," Michael murmurs. Castiel's head snaps up to look at his eldest sibling.

"God gifted us with love at the beginning of Creation," Michael continues, his voice shaking and soft as he speaks. "A single partner, and whether they were human, angel, demon, or monster, we would love them for eternity, and they would survive with us." Michael's jaw tenses as he stares sightlessly at his unmoving brother. He coughs, spilling blood yet again. "I looked for my name and never found it. I looked for a time unknown, until I realized-" he coughs again. "I realized my name wasn't written. So I hid the List, in a place no one would ever search, and I let the angels believe they were born without the ability to love another."

"How might I see this List?" Castiel asks carefully.

"Pick up the Stone," Dean grunts, thinking fast. "Pick up the Stone and you'll see who's Listed."

Castiel gives him a condescending smile. "It's a trap," he says softly. Gently, he nudges the Stone to roll to Dean. Curse perfect circles.

"You pick it up."

Dean shakes his head. He doesn't know what will happen. There's a hard smack of pressure into his stomach, like a kick.

"Pick it up or I will kill Sam." It's said so calmly, so bluntly, and Dean knows he's telling the truth.

"I can't pick it up stuck to the wall," Dean wheezes, and he's released.

He tumbles forward, and there the Stone sits, waiting.

He picks it up. Nothing happens.

Then Castiel screams.

Dean looks up and sees Castiel on the floor, writhing as faces bulge out through his skin.

"The souls are trying to stop the Bonding." Morpheus is in his head, his voice reverberating through his brain cells. "Burn them out with your fire, Dean Winchester, and he shall become whole again."

Dean swallows. He's got to do the fire thing again. "Really?" he asks open air.

The Dream King doesn't reply, mostly because it's a stupid question.

Sighing, Dean crawls forward, pinning Castiel down with his own weight. Castel's eyes are squeezed shut, black blood dripping out of the corners.

"Calm down, Cas, I gotcha," he murmurs, remembering the feeling of the fire. His hand tingles, and finally, finally, his hand is covered in white flame. Using his other hand, he rips Castiel's clothes away before slamming his hand against his friend's bare chest like a brand.

Castiel bucks, letting loose an angelic scream as the souls burn away in his blood, ripping from their moorings in his grace.

Dean keeps a hold of the angel, angrily burning through each soul as though it had personally offended him. The souls as good as had, if he was being honest. Besides, he's a hunter.

Castiel freezes, his eyes flying open, and his breath hitches.

The flames dim and disappear into Dean's skin just as Castiel lets out a choked sob.

"Dean?"

Dean doesn't think about it, he pulls his friend into a hug, ignoring the sobs that wracked either of their bodies.

Castiel hugs him back, mumbling a steady, inaudible mantra into Dean's shoulder.

Dean thinks it might be 'I'm sorry'.

He's forgiven.

ONE YEAR LATER…

Jolene was a wonder. Meg had a new body after a week and a half, this one with long black hair and big green eyes complete with thick, fluttering eyelashes. Lucifer's body took a bit longer, three weeks, but she didn't really mind.

"Dean!" Dean turns just in time to catch the petite blonde in a hug.

"Hey there, Luci," he greets with a grin.

She looks up at him, her pale eyes filled with excitement. "Jonah and Lulu are dating!"

Dean rolls his eyes. "Took 'em long enough." Lulu and Jonah had been dancing around each other for a good bit of the last year. "What'd you do, lock 'em in the closet?"

Lucifer just grins at him. "That was all Whisper."

"You're a bad influence," Dean says decisively, lifting the angel easily and carrying her to the newly installed pool, courtesy of Gabriel, who'd done it as a 'celebratory gift' for everyone. It helps that his twins love to swim.

It's not really a surprise when Dean falls in with Lucifer.

It is, however, a surprise that Michael was the one that pushed them in.

"That's for the time you two threw water balloons filled with jello at me," Michael says decisively, not quite keeping the self-satisfied smile from his face.

Dean and Lucifer look at each other and spit water into Michael's face before tugging him down with them.

"Dean!" Dean looks up. It's Uzziel, Sam's angel, who's a pretty red-head about three inches shorter than

Sam. "Dean, Cas is back!"

Dean grins. "Awesome."

He flies out of the pool and glomps his angel. It's double points because he's dripping wet.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel says softly. He looks tired, but pleased.

"How many did you find?" Dean asks, sliding off Cas' back.

"Thirteen," Castiel says, pleased. Early on it was found that he had quite the knack for finding Listed, and was even better at convincing them to come with him. Something about him made them trust him, made them love him.

"We're all at the pool," Dean tells him. "Wanna sit with us?"

Castiel just presses a kiss to his partner's pale cheek and Dean takes them to their regular place.

Castiel copies Dean and strips off his damp t-shirt and sensible work boots, settling into his chair and closing his eyes.

Dean lies down beside him, his eyes scanning the people that have become his family. Uzziel and Sam have joined Michael and Lucifer in the water. To the left Balthazar and his partner, Emma, were playing with their daughter Martinka in the kiddy pool. Anna's snuggling with her partner Jack while Becky is explaining Harry Potter to her partner Elijah, absently rubbing her pregnant stomach as she speaks. Jean's lounging against Johiel's shoulder, lazily braiding her brother's hair as he has a moment with his partner, the very pretty Metatron.

Dean grins and lies back. It's nice, the peace that's settled on the whole of the planet. No one is fighting- the demons are either Bonded or in Hell, the angels have made their peace, and the monsters? They haven't been causing trouble, either.

At some point Dean'll have to do something. Find a minor hunt, get a job, whatever. But until then, he's perfectly okay with this.

Castiel's hand seeks Dean's, lacing their fingers loosely together. If Dean was trying, he might have been able to make out the strains of Meat Loaf's 'Heaven Can Wait', which is floating through the air underneath the chatter of content people and family life.

Dean stretches and relaxes.

He's perfectly okay with this.

DEAN'S LATIN*:
non timebo mala- I shall fear no evil
nemo mortalium omnibus horis sapit- No mortal is wise at all times
nil desperandum- Never despair
nil mortalibus ardui est- Nothing is impossible for humankind
Illegitimus non carborundum- Don't let the bastards grind you down
aequitas- Justice
non ducor, duco- I am not led, I lead
non facias malum ut inde fiat bonum- you should not make evil in order that good may be made from it
alis grave nil - nothing is heavy to those who have wings
audax at fidelis - bold but faithful
dum vita est, spes est - while there is life, there is hope
aut viam inveniam aut faciam- Either I will find a way or I will make one
neutiquam erro- I am not lost
operor panton in diligo- do everything in love

*All Phrases taken from the internets and my Latin textbook

For those of you who were curious to hear the music that I've used so obviously throughout this fic, here's the link:
.com/?5bx4cv8crkwifwf