title: and he shall give his angels charge over thee
author: medie
fandom: supernatural
pairing: none
rating: pg13
word count: 596
disclaimer: I do not known Supernatural for lo, it is the Kripke's
note: crackfic that just would not leave my brain and man, my titles just keep getting longer G thanks havocthecat for correcting my tenses and grammar and not calling me a whack job when I suggested this though I'm sure you were thinking it. Written before "Houses of the Holy" so no spoilers for the episode as I had not even heard OF the episode.
summary: there are no rites of exorcism against angels...
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" For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways." - psalm 91
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There are no rites of exorcism against angels.
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It looked like a woman, for all that matters. The first time he saw her, John thought she was Mary. It was before the fire, before Mary went away. Passing Dean's room, he saw her bending over Dean to tuck him in. Dean laughed at something she said, John went downstairs with a smile.
Mary joined him a few minutes later, wearing different clothes.
He didn't think to ask.
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It was there that night, walking out of the fire to grab him by the arms. Supernatural strength hurled him through the door and down the stairs; he hit the ground running and didn't look back.
Didn't matter anyway, it was waiting with the boys. He didn't see it but Dean kept looking over his shoulder at empty air.
Even then he knew.
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Missouri didn't tell him that first time, she waited until later. "You know about them, don't you, John?" she asked over a steaming mug of coffee. "Those boys are protected…"
He wanted to rage, scream, and demand to know why Mary hadn't been. Why that thing would save his sons, save him, but do nothing to help her. Missouri just smiled sadly. "All kinds of casualties in a war, John…"
He didn't start hunting to chase a demon; he'd started so he could damn an angel.
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It didn't care what he thought, made that abundantly clear. It came and went as it pleased, visiting the boys. Waking in the night, he'd find it standing watch over his sons, he'd come back from hunting to see it in the window, hear Sammy stop crying, comforted by unearthly singing.
Angels left no sulfur as evidence of their presence, but he knew. It made sure he knew.
It made sure others knew.
"It's a war, John," Jim told him, "and like it or not, you're not the only one fighting it."
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Chasing a werewolf in Austin, he got sloppy. Hand jerking him out of the way at the last second.
He wasn't surprised to see it there. Up close, it looked totally human until you looked it in the eye.
John didn't look, he glared; it looked back with eternity in its eyes, completely nonplussed.
"Why?"
A faint smile touched perfect lips. "Because."
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He went back to Missouri; he always went back to Missouri.
She just nodded, listening when he explained. "You can't get rid of it, John, and I can't for the life of me understand why you'd want to."
She plunked a sandwich down in front of him. "Eat that, you haven't got strength enough to swat a fly much less a demon with what you've been eatin'. Don't you argue with me either, just eat."
He ate and, for once, he didn't argue.
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It showed up after the striga and this time, he grabbed for it. The warning was in those eyes plain as day but it just waited.
"I thought you were here to protect them?!"
A tiny smile. "I am."
"Didn't look like it from where I was standing!"
"Stand somewhere else."
In a heartbeat, John was pressed against a wall and it looked at him with no illusions, no pretense and he shut his eyes against the glare.
"You have made your choice, John but they haven't." Its voice was surprisingly sympathetic. "Until that day, I walk with them."
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And then, he found out about Sam…
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There are no rites of exorcism against angels.
fin