Title: I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings

Author: TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel (aceofannwn on LJ)

Pairings: Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel

Setting: Set across season 4 & 5. AU.

Summary: After four torturous months Sam has his brother back, but Dean is accompanied by an angel with a terrible task for them both: help stop the impending apocalypse, or see the world destroyed. Sam has no idea what to do next when the Trickster turns up, blonde and female this time but as maddening as ever, promising assistance. As time Sam finds himself slowly coming to depend on the pagan Trickster god, but just when it looks like the apocalypse can be averted, the Winchester luck kicks in and threatens to ruin everything - including Sam's friendship with Loki.


I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings

Chapter Two


The next morning Sam joined Dean for breakfast.

Sam had slept unusually well the night before, and so he sauntered into the diner feeling pretty damn cheerful.

Dean raised an eyebrow as he sat down.

"According to the guy at the front desk, you hooked up last night."

Sam ignored the question.

"I thought you and Ruby had a 'thing?'"

Sam gave him a look.

"Dean."

"Hey, I don't care," Dean said. "In fact, I think it's a good thing you were banging someone other than the demon chick."

Sam tried to picture Dean's face if he knew that the woman Sam had entered the motel room with was actually the Trickster. He had to restrain a grin.

"Whatever, Dean."

They ate breakfast in relative silence, while Dean devoted his attention to his food and Sam considered the question of how best to break the news of their new ally to his brother.

"Dean," Sam asked, as casually as possible, "hypothetically, suppose someone, or some thing, that was kind of listed in the 'fugly' column wanted to help prevent the apocalypse. What would you think?"

Dean paused and stared at Sam in suspicion.

"There something you want to tell me, Sammy?" he asked pointedly.

"No, nothing, it's just I was thinking, we could really do with some help on this whole apocalypse thing," Sam said carefully. "And some of the creatures out there are pretty damn powerful, Dean. They could be an asset."

"Dude," Dean replied bluntly, "They're monsters. We hunt monsters. End of story."

Sam sighed.

That didn't bode well – Sam could just imagine how Dean was going to respond once he found out that Sam sort of had an alliance with a pagan god, especially considering which pagan god it was.

Fun times ahead.


Sam opened up his bag to pull out his laptop, but found himself staring at a pile of empty candy wrappers instead.

No sign of the laptop.

Sam looked around hastily to make sure that Dean was still out of earshot.

He was, so Sam risked a whisper.

"Loki!" he hissed under his breath, glaring around angrily in the hope that the pagan god would show up with his computer. "Where the hell is my laptop? Loki!"

Just as Sam was about to burst a blood vessel or something, the Trickster appeared cross-legged on Sam's bed with the laptop in her lap. Sam glared.

Loki handed over the computer with great ceremony, held a finger to her lips, and vanished without a sound.

Sam found that he was grinding his teeth.

He sat down and unfolded the machine, hoping, against his instincts, that the Trickster hadn't messed with it.

He waited with bated breath after logging on, watching for anything unusual.

The first thing he noticed was a new folder on the desktop, labelled 'FOLDER OF AWESOME.' Frowning in slight dread, Sam clicked on it.

It proved to be full of internet bookmarks and downloaded articles relevant to the impending apocalypse, and a heap of stuff on angelic lore.

Sam raised his eyebrows as he noted that several scanned pages saved in the folder were stamped as belonging to a Vatican private collection.

He wasn't sure how Loki had gotten her hands on those, but he was pretty sure that he didn't want to know.

There was a file named enochian_, and Sam clicked on it out of curiosity.

Dean exited the bathroom a few minutes later to find Sam engrossed.

"Found something already?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Uh, not exactly. I did find something else, though." Sam turned the computer around so that his brother could see the screen.

"What is that?" Dean leaned in closer.

"Enochian," Sam said, trying hard not to sound smug, and failing miserably. "A somewhat obscure language first recorded in the private journals of Dr John Dee and Edward Kelley during the late 16th century, it's supposedly the language in which men can speak to angels. According to some of the more restricted information available online, it can also be used in rituals to affect, or even bind angelic powers."

"Nice." Dean sounded impressed. "And this is what, an Enochian to English dictionary?"

"Uh-huh."

"Where'd you get it?" Dean was scrolling down, looking at the weird glyphs.

"P2P," Sam lied without hesitation.

"Well. This should come in handy." Dean clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Now why don't you look up the case we're actually working on?"

Sam frowned.

"Jerk."


By Halloween, Sam and Dean were up to their necks in their current case. The idea of Samhain rising was bad enough, before the angels stepped in.

Sam had been – well, okay, to be honest, he'd kind of been a twelve year old girl about the whole thing.

At least, until the angels had mentioned the demon blood, anyway.

But come on, they were angels. What part of that wasn't impressive?

Except that angel PR had been really effective, apparently, because real angels? Totally different from the kind, heavenly image people had in their heads. Instead, they were ruthless and merciless, and didn't give a damn about anything besides the big picture, even if people suffered for it. Because they were righteous, then anything they did was also righteous and therefore okay.

The plan is just. Because it comes from Heaven, that makes it just.

Sam had never met a bigger pair of arrogant sanctimonious assholes in his life. Over a thousand people's lives were at stake, because a couple angels didn't care. It made Sam sick.

He knew that part of what he was feeling was disillusionment; yet another remaining chunk of faith in something in this world had just been crushed, and it had been a big piece, too. But Sam didn't have time to think about that.

If he and Dean failed, then either an entire town would be wiped off the map, or the world would be one step closer to Armageddon.

No pressure.

They could really use some help on this one, but so far Loki hadn't answered Sam once, despite the fact that he'd called for her at least five times already.

Sam was beginning to worry about that, wondering if the god had decided to ditch them after all, or maybe if something about the angels hovering around was causing a problem. Either way, it looked like he and Dean were on their own on this one.


Oh God, how dumb were they? Sam thought furiously. They'd been right the first time, except that it wasn't just Tracy – it was her and the teacher. Fuck.

"He was gonna make me the final sacrifice, his idea, but now, that honour goes to him," Tracy explained to her captive audience. "Our master's return? The spellwork's a two-man job, you understand, so for six hundred years I had to deal with that pompous son of a bitch. Planning, preparing, unbelievable."

Sam tried to get up, to move, do something, past the incredible pain in his stomach.

He and Dean weren't going to be able to stop the bitch, but they had to – they had to try and do something.

Sam pictured Loki in his head, all sparkling, mirthful eyes and annoying smirk, tricky and sly and irrepressible, and willed about as hard as he ever had in his life.

"Loki Lyresmith, you Trickster bitch," he whispered as loudly as he dared, ignoring the way Dean's eyes darted over to him. "If you're ever going to help us, we need you."

Tracy was still ranting on, pretty much ignoring the two men writhing in agony on the floor.

"You know, back in the day, this was the one day you kept your children inside. Well tonight you'll all see what Halloween really is," she gloated.

A sardonically familiar, extremely welcome voice interrupted her.

"Boy, you really do like the sound of your own voice, don't you?"

Tracy whirled in shock, while Sam was flooded with sudden, overwhelming relief.

"I mean, I'm bad enough, sure," the Trickster continued, around the lollipop she was nonchalantly sucking on, "but at least I don't spend all my time bitching about what a hard time I had, 'ooh, my brother is a dick, I'm under-appreciated, life is so hard.' Suck it up already, bitch."

Through the pain, in spite of himself, or maybe just because he was sure now that things were going to be okay, Sam wanted to laugh at Loki's complaint.

He had to admit, however annoying she could be, she had a certain style.

Tracy threw a hand out, but before she could do more than that Loki snapped her fingers, looking unimpressed, and the chalice of blood vanished.

Tracy sputtered in anger.

"You – you –"

"Oh, shut up," Gabriel sighed, and waved two fingers in a brisk sweeping motion.

The crack of the witch's neck breaking was clearly audible. Tracy slumped to the floor, and with a snap of the fingers both bodies, the blood, everything needed for the ritual, was just gone.

"There we go," Loki declared, dusting he hands off as Sam gasped, suddenly pain-free. God, it was wonderful. "Problem dealt with. Ever call me a bitch again, Sam, and you're gonna regret it, you hear me?"

"Yeah," Sam sighed, getting to his feet. "Sorry. And thanks."

The Trickster beamed at him so happily that Sam found himself smiling wearily back.

"You're welcome."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Dean shouted.

He was making sort of windmill motions with his arms and glaring at them both like he was hoping someone would drop dead on the spot.

"I hate to break up this meeting of the Mutual Appreciation Society, but what the fuck, Sam? Who the hell is this?"

Sam sighed again. This… wasn't how he'd hoped Dean would find out.

"Dean," Sam said reluctantly, "meet Loki."

"Hey there, Winchester."

Loki raised and dropped her eyebrows at him, half-smiling.

"Loki?" Dean repeated, looking suspicious and confused.

"Like the Norse god," Loki explained helpfully, with a patient expression. "I've decided to join the whole 'screw the apocalypse' thing you guys have got going."

"The Norse god," Dean echoed, in a voice that meant what the fuck, Sam?

Sam remained stoic under Dean's glare. Loki watched them both placidly, and pulled out a Snickers bar from somewhere.

"More seals are being broken every day, Dean," Sam said calmly, trying to be the voice of reason. "We need all the help we can get, and she made a binding oath to help us."

"You made a deal with a pagan god?" Dean growled.

He opened his mouth to blast Sam, but Loki stuffed a piece of Snickers bar in it before he could speak.

Dean's expression contorted into bewildered what the hell? and he stared dumbly at the Trickster, his eyebrows gathering together angrily.

"You need to get your hearing checked, bucko," the god said brightly. "If you listened clearly, you would have noticed that while I made an oath, Sam on the other hand offered nothing. Ergo, not a deal. Comprehende?"

Dean chewed the Snickers furiously and swallowed.

It was actually pretty funny to watch, and Sam felt his lips twitch.

"Why the hell would you volunteer to help?" Dean demanded.

Loki made a 'well, duh' face at him. Sam found it equal parts insufferable and adorable.

"Hellooo," she drew the word out obnoxiously, "in case you haven't noticed, I live on this planet. Lucifer is bad news. Having him around would totally suck the fun out of life. It's a clear-cut case of self-interest, kiddo. This is the only planet that has chocolate, y'know."

Dean's brow furrowed slightly at the comment.

"You're saving the planet for chocolate," he stated dubiously, which made Sam snort.

"Correct," Loki confirmed sweetly. "I'm glad we got that sorted out."

Dean sent Sam a what the fuck is this for real? look, and Sam shrugged helplessly.

"She does like candy, Dean," he pointed out.

Dean slowly shook his head.

"So," Loki chirped, "here I am. What are you gonna do with me?"

She did something suggestive with her eyebrows that looked almost obscene.

Dean ran a hand over his mouth, considering.

"Okay, look, I'm not exactly okay with this, but since you're here, what exactly are you planning to do to help?"

The Trickster shrugged.

"I dunno, stage a rescue here, gather info there – there's no one plugged into the godly gossip network like I am, y'know. I figured I'd do what seemed helpful at the time, unless you had any better ideas." She looked dubious. "And considering what I've seen of you so far, I'm guessing you don't."

"Excuse me?" Dean bristled.

"Okay, fine, but only because I guess you knuckleheads can't help it."

Sam cleared his throat hastily.

"Anyway, all I'm asking is don't tell your uptight little angel yet, or," Loki suddenly levelled a finger in Sam's direction with a stern scowl, "Hotness McDemony, capice?" Dean snorted a laugh. "I don't care how much you trust her, or care about her, or think rainbows come out of her ass or something, I don't trust demons no matter what they say, and if you breathe a word to her about me or anything I share with you, I will deal with her as I see fit. Only warning you're gonna get."

"Sounds fair to me," Dean remarked.

Sam huffed out an irritated breath.

Okay, yes, Ruby was a demon, that was true, but why was it so hard to believe that there was some kind of, infinitesimal spark of humanity left in her, and that it was possible she might actually, you know, want to help out the good guys? Nothing she did or Sam said could convince Dean, and now, apparently, Loki was on the anti-Ruby team.

"Fine. Whatever," he agreed unwillingly.

He wasn't happy about it, but really it wasn't that much of a price in the long run for Loki's help.

"Great!" God, the Trickster was insufferably cheerful. "Glad we're on the same page. Now if you'll excuse me, Halloween is kind of my personal holiday, so I'd like to get back to collecting enough candy to make me puke and arranging just desserts for all the assholes I can find. Toodles!"

The familiar gesture, and Loki was gone.

Unfortunately, it seemed to shake something loose in Dean's brain, because his eyes widened, and he turned to Sam in renewed shock and fury as things clicked.

"Sam! Did you make some kind of arrangement with the fucking Trickster?"

Oh, fuck.