A/N: Happy Halloween!
Disclaimer: Not mine. Thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading!
"Trick-ster-Treat"
"We're almost back at the motel," Dean said into his cell phone as he and Sam walked across the parking lot. "Lead was a bust, by the way."
They'd come all the way out to Idaho on account of some rumors of a weapon they might have been able to use against Lucifer to stop the Apocalypse, but after days of searching, had come up with zilch.
"Hey, can you bring us pizza?" Dean asked. "Like, real pizza from Italy."
Sam shot him the patented bitch-face, which he pointedly ignored. What good was having an angel friend if you couldn't enjoy a few perks like free, cross-continental delivery?
Cas was silent on the other end of the line, maybe trying to figure out whether Dean was being serious.
Raucous laughter drew his attention toward the street where a group of kids were dressed up in various costumes. Right, it was Halloween. Dean's least favorite holiday. He definitely wanted to stay in with some good pizza, then.
"Seriously," he said into the phone as they reached their motel door and he put the key in the lock to give it a twist.
"How do you expect him to pay for it?" Sam countered.
"He doesn't have to pay for it…" Dean groused as he pushed the door open and stepped inside—only to pull up short. "What the hell…"
He was suddenly not in the motel room; he was facing down an old dirt road awash with white moonlight. Old, lopsided fence posts framed the road, with farmland on one side and forest on the other. Down the lane, there looked to be an old rickety church with a lantern hanging off the front porch.
"What the…where are we?" Sam echoed.
Dean spun back toward the door, but it was gone. He and Sam were standing in the middle of what looked like a historic, rural area. Remembering his phone, he snapped his attention back to it. "Cas, something weird's going on."
There was no response.
"Cas?" Dean pulled the cell away from his ear to look at the screen, but it was dark. He pushed a button, getting nothing. "Crap." Stuffing the dead phone in his pocket, he swept his gaze around the area. Could they be even more out in the boonies? At least the moon was pretty big and bright, so visibility wasn't an issue.
"What do we do?" Sam asked.
Dean shrugged. "Try to find some people, figure out where we are?"
"Or when?" Sam added worriedly. "Could Zachariah have sent us through time?"
"Not to the past. And I doubt he'd try the same trick twice." Dean shook his head. "I dunno. Maybe this is some witch's doing? It is Halloween."
Damn holiday.
A horse's chuff drew Dean's attention to the road, and he stiffened at the rider that had suddenly appeared. Clothed in black and wreathed in mist, Dean could barely make the figure out, though something seemed…off, about him.
Hooves clomped steadily forward, and Dean's brows shot upward when the stranger emerged into a full wash of moonlight.
"You've got to be friggin' kidding me."
"Is that…?" Sam sputtered.
Steel grated as the horseman drew a sword, the metal glinting in the moonlight. The horse's eyes glowed red, but the rider had no eyes at all. He didn't have a head.
"This is not happening," Dean muttered.
The horse reared up and then began to charge.
"Sam, run!" Dean shouted, already grabbing his brother's arm and wrenching him around to flee in the other direction. Hooves beat out a staccato rhythm behind them, increasing rapidly.
They bolted down the lane, Dean searching for a gap in the fence they could slip through, but there wasn't one. The church was up ahead, though, just several more meters. Dean glanced over his shoulder to see the Headless Horseman raise his sword high. His heart leaped into his throat, and he pumped his legs faster.
And then there was a thwack of wind, and Dean was suddenly soaring through the air. He hit the ground hard and bounced several times, finally landing with his cheek smashed into the dirt. He tried to get up—only to realize he couldn't feel his legs. …He couldn't feel anything.
Terror shot through him. "Sam!"
"Dean!" his brother responded, not sounding too far away.
"Sam, I can't move!"
"Dean!" Sam sounded panicked, and Dean wished he could turn his head to see where he was.
The horse nickered, followed by the sound of boots dropping heavily on the ground. Dean's heart rate spiked into overdrive as footsteps crunched dirt, looming closer. And then fingers were fisting in his hair and yanking him up off the ground. Dean swung back and forth as the Horseman started dragging him away.
No, wait…why was he swaying if he was being dragged?
And then Dean's eyes landed on his brother's body, lying decapitated in the road. "Sam!" he roared.
"Dean!"
What?
The Horseman turned to the left, and Dean watched in flabbergasted horror as he picked Sam's head up by the hair, and Sam's wide, terrified eyes were blinking rapidly as they found Dean.
"Oh my god," Sam choked, sounding very much not dead.
Dean's stomach dropped out from under him—or it would have, if his growing hunch didn't turn out to be true. "Sammy?" he queried tremulously.
His brother just stared back at him in shock. The Horseman carried them back to the horse and opened a saddle bag. Dean got a glimpse of his own headless body lying in the road before he and Sam were stuffed into the cramped leather pouch.
((-_-))
A spectator stood further down the road, concealed under the dark tree line, and snickered as Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum squawked back and forth at each other like panicked chickens with their heads cut off. Oh wait…
He chortled some more.
"Gabriel," a low voice growled from behind.
He rolled his eyes. Oh great, little bro was barging in again. That was getting a tad annoying…
Gabriel turned around to face Castiel. "You're a real party pooper, you know that?"
The lesser angel glowered at him. "Let them go."
He scoffed. "Or what? Gonna glare daggers at me?" Gabriel cocked a finger gun at him. "Real intimidating there, bro."
Castiel's expression darkened further, and he drew his angel blade.
Gabriel gave it a dubious look. "Really?"
"I won't ask twice."
Gabriel didn't know whether to laugh or teach this little twerp a lesson again. Not that Castiel had learned back in the TV channel pocket dimension. This one was a little different, though.
Gabriel glanced over his shoulder as the Horseman mounted his steed and turned to ride off into the forest. "Uh-oh, looks like he's getting away with his trophies."
Castiel's gaze shot to the horse cantering off into the woods, the Winchesters' muffled voices carrying through the air enough for celestial hearing to pick up.
Gabriel crossed his arms. "Better hurry."
Castiel flicked another scathing glare at him before turning and rushing after the Horseman.
Gabriel smirked. So predictable. His gaze drifted over the country lane to where the Winchesters' headless bodies remained lying in the dirt. His mouth curved upward. Since his little brother insisted on butting in, there was no reason to make it easy for him. And, really, it was Castiel's own oversight.
With a snap of his fingers, Gabriel moved the bodies elsewhere. And then with a devilish grin, he transposed himself to another location for a brief intermission.
((-_-))
Castiel sprinted through the woods, following the horse's tracks as they went deeper into the misty forest. Tight-knit canopies and fog blocked the moonlight, though an angel didn't need any to see by.
He couldn't believe Gabriel was pulling these tricks again. Though, honestly, should Castiel even be surprised? His brother obviously had a gripe with the Winchesters, simply because they refused to do the exact thing Gabriel himself wanted to avoid. The traitorous archangel was a hypocrite. And Castiel wasn't going to stand for it. But first he had to rescue Sam and Dean.
He slowed his pace as a run-down cottage nestled against an aged oak tree came into view. There was a small bit of pastureland a little beyond it where a black horse was tethered. Castiel tightened his grip on his angel blade and marched forward with righteous retribution.
Yet when he burst inside the cottage, there was no sign of the Headless Horseman. Just rickety furniture and mason jars filled with various animal parts and fluids on shelves. An axe with black unguent stood propped against the wall in the corner.
"Cas!"
He pivoted toward the cry and spotted the heads of Sam and Dean sitting in a basket on the table. The sight was disturbing enough, though Castiel felt a small measure of relief that Gabriel hadn't killed them. Still, the situation was…not ideal.
He strode over. "Are you two alright?"
"Does it look like we're alright?" Dean nearly shrieked. "Get us out of here!"
"Of course." But then Castiel paused as he considered how he would do that. Frowning at the predicament and knowing the Horseman could return at any time, Castiel quickly stowed his blade and reached out toward the Winchesters.
"Oh, no," Dean sputtered. "Don't you—" He cut off with a series of choked sounds as Castiel picked him up by his hair, along with Sam.
"Dammit, Cas!" Dean yelled.
"You can put us back together, right?" Sam asked, voice cracking with obvious worry.
Castiel's jaw tightened. Personally…he wasn't sure. Even if he wasn't cut off from Heaven, this was archangel grade magic. But he would make Gabriel fix them if it was the last thing Castiel did.
"Just…hang tight," he said, drawing on a colloquialism he thought was accurate.
"You did not just—"
Dean's snarl was swallowed up in a vortex of wind and shadow as Castiel flapped his wings and flew them back through the pocket dimension to the road. The minute he landed, though, the older Winchester was cursing up a storm. Castiel held back a sigh. He supposed Dean did have reason to be upset.
He turned in a circle to find their bodies, hoping he could at least try to fix this. But…oh no.
"Cas," Sam's voice quavered. "Where are our bodies?"
"You lost them?" Dean shouted.
Castiel gritted his teeth; the hunter was getting rather grating. "Gabriel must have hidden them."
"Gabriel?" Dean shrilled. "He's behind this?"
"Yes," Castiel replied.
"That son-of-a-bitch! I am going to deep fry that bastard's wings when I get my hands on him."
Normally, Castiel would have been offended by such a threat—but he was currently fed up with his capricious brother as well.
He narrowed his eyes, squinting into the surrounding countryside bathed in mist. Gabriel could have hidden the bodies anywhere…
"Um, Cas?" Sam spoke up.
Castiel raised his arm to bring Sam's head up to eye level. The Winchester's face was pinched in discomfort, but he swallowed hard and flicked his eyes to the right.
"Is that the door of our motel room?"
Castiel looked over to find a crack of light over by the tree line, unnatural orange light filtering through from modern halogen lamps. Dread dropped his heart into his stomach. Had Gabriel taken the Winchesters' bodies out of the pocket dimension? Castiel might never find either of them again…
A scream rent the air on the other side of the door, and Castiel went rigid. Or perhaps there was something worse…
He hurried to the crack in the dimensional space and peeked through.
Sam let out a gasp. "Oh god, he got out."
Castiel watched with grim horror as the Horseman picked up the head of a woman he'd just beheaded in the street. People were screaming and running, herding children dressed in costumes to flee the nightmare-come-to-life.
"We have to stop him," the younger Winchester said.
"And how do you suggest we do that?" Dean snapped.
Castiel's jaw tightened, and he looked around for a place to set his precious cargo. He couldn't take them out of the pocket dimension, for fear that the preternatural protection against death by beheading only worked inside Gabriel's false reality.
There was a small nook between some tree roots, so Castiel gently set Sam and Dean in it.
"Whoa, wait," Dean protested.
Castiel drew his blade and opened the door wide. If he couldn't kill the Horseman, he'd have to get him back into the pocket dimension. He strode out into the street, ignoring the Winchesters' shouts behind him.
The Horseman stuffed the woman's head into his satchel and then started to turn in a slow circle, surveying his next target.
"Hey!" Castiel shouted, drawing his attention.
The headless body turned toward him, and he found it unnerving how a being without eyes could still seem to bore its gaze into his very core.
Castiel dipped his chin forward and lowered his voice. "Come and get me."
The Horseman raised his sword, which was three times the length of Castiel's angel blade. And then the knight charged. Castiel ducked under the first swing and spun around, slashing at the Horseman's back.
The creature of legend jerked as though Castiel had scored a hit, but of course didn't make a sound. It swung its sword around in an arc, and Castiel had to bend backwards till his spine cracked to avoid getting decapitated himself.
He recovered quickly and danced around, darting in for a jab to the Horseman's side. He felt his blade strike flesh, but it seemed to have no effect. He got an elbow of armor in the face in response that knocked him back a few steps. Stumbling to regain his balance, he barely brought his blade up in time to block a strike. Metal clanged with a discordant screech.
The Horseman bore down on Castiel, swinging over and over in rapid succession. Castiel parried each one, backing up closer and closer to the pocket dimension.
But then the Horseman feinted left, and when Castiel pivoted to block, he left his other side exposed. The Horseman plunged his sword right into Castiel's chest, punching it out through his back. Castiel's body seized as lightning forked through him. Blood spurted up into his throat and the shock of it all threatened to blacken out his vision. But Castiel gritted his teeth and, flipping his angel blade around for a different grip, thrust it up into the Horseman's heart.
The Horseman jerked, his body going rigid now as well. He let go of his sword and stumbled back several steps before exploding into vapor. The angel blade clattered to the concrete.
Castiel staggered, pain shooting through every nerve ending. His knees buckled and he pitched toward the ground, the sword in his sternum turning to smoke before he hit the asphalt. Blood was still crawling up the back of his throat, though, and when Castiel reached shaky hands toward the gaping wound in his chest, he found his grace sputtering in response.
Terror zinged through him. His powers were failing, and he couldn't heal himself.
((-_-))
"Cas!" Sam shouted.
"What's going on? What's happening?" Dean asked urgently. "Dammit, I can't see. Your stupid mane's in my eyes!"
Sam would have shot his brother a bitch-face if he could have turned his head. Like having Dean's nose poking his ear was all that pleasant. But at the moment, he was too terrified watching Cas lay on the ground unmoving.
When the Horseman had stabbed him, Sam had felt a thrill of horror before remembering that Dean had once stabbed Castiel in the heart and the angel had practically smirked at him. And then Cas had managed to gank the Horseman, to Sam's relief. But when he'd stumbled, terror had shot through Sam anew. And now Cas wasn't getting up.
Though it was dark and he didn't have a great angle, Sam thought he saw a dark puddle gathering under the angel.
"Cas!" he yelled.
"Gabriel, you get your ass over here right now!" Dean roared. "You hear me, you spineless dick!"
Sam's breath caught in his throat. "Gabriel," he tried praying. "Please. Cas is hurt. If you really care about your family like you said, don't let him die."
There was a thwack of wing beats and Gabriel appeared standing over them, arms crossed. "Really, boys? You might want to at least get your stories straight. One part insults, one part pity party doesn't equal a good ruse. And I happen to know there's no holy oil in this pocket dimension, so you won't fool me there twice—"
"Gabriel!" Sam's desperate tone somehow managed to get the archangel to shut up, and Sam flicked his eyes toward the open door of the pocket dimension. "Your Horseman got out and Cas tried to stop him…"
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Oh please, he…" The Trickster trailed off as he lolled his head toward the doorway. Sam saw the blithe disregard drain from his face, and then in the blink of an eye, Gabriel had teleported out into the street next to Cas.
Sam held his breath as he watched the archangel crouch down and reach out to touch Castiel's shoulder. But if he expected a light tap to the forehead and for Cas to get up, it didn't happen.
"What's happening?" Dean growled. "Where's Cas? Gabriel, I swear to your deadbeat dad—"
Gabriel whipped his hand out toward them, and Sam's vision was swallowed in darkness for a split second. The next thing he knew, he was 6'4" again with feet firmly planted on paved street instead of woodland. He frantically patted himself down, then checked his neck to make sure it was actually attached, and that there wasn't a macabre line of stitches. But all he felt was smooth skin.
He heard Dean grunt in surprise and relief, and glanced over to see his brother restored as well. They both whirled toward Cas just as Gabriel raised his hand again and snapped his fingers, and Sam jolted to find them all inside the motel room, the door to Sleepy Hollow land gone.
Gabriel had moved Cas onto one of the beds, both hands glowing as he held one palm over Cas's chest and the other at his back. The entire front of Cas's suit and trench coat was soaked in blood, and his eyes were barely open. Faint tremors were the only sign he was still alive.
"You just have to play hero, don't you?" Gabriel grumbled under his breath. "That's not your role."
"You can heal him, right?" Sam asked worriedly. He'd seen Cas a little beat up before, but never anything like this.
"His grace has nearly given out trying to keep his vessel's heart from shredding," Gabriel replied stiffly. "I can fix his vessel; fixing him won't be as easy."
"You son-of-a-bitch," Dean growled.
"Dean," Sam said warningly. Yes, they had every right to be pissed at the Trickster, but now wasn't the time to tick him off if he was the only one who could help Cas.
"No," Dean snapped. "Now all of a sudden you care what happens to Cas?"
"He wouldn't have gotten hurt if he hadn't left the pocket dimension," Gabriel retorted snippily.
"The Horseman got out first!" Dean raged. "Did you let it out? Your idea of some more Halloween fun?"
Gabriel's eyes flashed darkly. "That was not part of the plan."
"Oh, so you're just a screw-up."
"You want to be headless again?"
Sam threw his hands up between them. "Enough! Cas is dying. Can we please focus on helping him?"
Dean's expression immediately turned chastised as he flicked a worried gaze toward the still unconscious angel.
Gabriel's mouth pressed into a thin line. "You can believe what you want," he said in a low voice. "But I do love my brothers."
Sam stepped in front of Dean to block another instigating remark. "Then prove it," he said simply, nodding toward Cas.
They all fell silent after that, the Winchesters letting Gabriel work on Castiel. The giant punctures in his chest and back healed up quickly enough, but he continued to tremble as though his system was still in shock. Which, according to Gabriel, his angel form was.
Sam gnawed at his lip. "Is there anything we can do to help?"
Gabriel tossed him a brief glance before seeming to consider it. "Blankets," he said.
Sam nodded and went to retrieve some from the closet. Dean stood back, fist pressed to his mouth as he watched Gabriel and Cas like a hawk.
Finally, Gabriel leaned back, the glow in his palms fading. He rolled Cas onto his back, and Sam moved in to tuck the blankets around the angel. He'd stopped shaking, but his color was still pale and he hadn't woken up yet.
"Will he be okay?" Sam asked.
Gabriel settled a hand on Cas's forehead. "He'll live."
Sam could have sagged in relief. "Thanks."
"It's his fault Cas got hurt in the first place," Dean scowled.
Sam raised his eyes to the ceiling.
"Like you've never gotten little Sammy hurt," Gabriel rejoined.
"I've never stuffed him in a pocket dimension with monsters gunning for him. I've never tortured him for fun."
Gabriel surged to his feet, and the room suddenly seemed to darken. "I don't need you telling me how to be a brother."
Dean huffed. "No, because you walked out on your family long ago. You're no one's brother."
Gabriel advanced on him.
"Guys!" Sam shouted. Unlike Dean, he was very leery of pissing off the Trickster archangel. "Look, Gabriel stopped this when it mattered. He saved Cas. Let's just move on."
The air was crackling with tense energy, and Sam was worried he wouldn't be able to hold back the explosion, but a low moan from the bed instantly doused it.
"Cas?" Dean pushed past Gabriel and rushed to the bed, reaching out to clasp Castiel's forearm. "Open your eyes, buddy."
Sam moved next to Dean and instinctively put a hand on Cas's knee as the angel's eyelids slowly peeled up, revealing tired blue.
"Dean?" he slurred. "Sam? You're- you're alright?"
Dean shook his head to himself. "Yeah, now we're alright. How 'bout you?"
Castiel's brow furrowed. "I'll…be fine. What happened?"
"You let yourself get shish-kabobbed and I had to swoop in and save you," Gabriel interjected haughtily.
Cas narrowed his eyes on his brother. "Why?"
"That was my question," Dean muttered, shooting Gabriel a dark look.
Sam honestly wanted to throttle his brother.
Gabriel looked like he wanted to do the same, but he turned his attention toward Cas. "Come on, bro, I never wanted you dead. And I hadn't meant for the Horseman to get loose, either." His mouth turned down. "I need to look into that, actually, because it shouldn't have happened."
Cas stared at him for a long moment before averting his gaze.
Sam took a breath to muster his courage. "Gabriel, I know you said you don't want to see your family fighting, but maybe you can help us find a way to stop all of this…"
The archangel held up a hand. "Sorry, Sammy. I told you, I'm not fighting my brothers."
"But you could fight with your brother." Sam flicked a meaningful glance at Cas.
A muscle in Gabriel's jaw ticked, but he shook it off and put on a smirk. "I think little bro's looked after well enough."
He turned toward the door, only to stop and pivot around.
"Oh, and, uh," Gabriel waggled his brows, "Happy Halloween."
Dean's curse was muffled by a swish of wings.