2- Holy Ghost

People came out of the church, and started dragging off the bodies. They left red smears on the asphalt.

"Cas, did you just see what happened?"

"Of course I did."

"People killed themselves. Why?"

Cas gave him that pitying look again. "Some sacrifices are always necessary for the greater good."

Dean stared at him a moment in disbelief. "Are you hearing yourself right now? People just died, Cas. For ... for what? To feed a hungry god? This is madness."

Now Castiel's expression turned infuriatingly patronizing. It was a look he expected from Zachariah, not Cas. "I know you don't understand. But I need you to trust me. You do trust me, don't you, Dean?"

This felt like a trap. "I usually do."

"Good. Trust me now." Cas turned and kept on walking towards the church. Most of the bodies had been dragged away, but the blood remained, thick and oily, as well as the stench of death. What the hell compelled those people to do that?

Dean tried to catch the eye of the people - any human anywhere around him - but their eyes just glided by him like he was a mirage. To say this was all fucked up was actually downplaying how fucked up it was. There were no words for this kind of epic crap-tastrophe.

What could influence an angel? He was still worried about the people in town, but lots of things could get to them. Influencing an angel was undoubtedly much more limited. In fact, as far as he knew, almost nothing could. Maybe Cas's powered down status made him more susceptible to ... whatever the hell was happening to him. Dean grabbed Cas's arm and stopped him, but it was a close thing. He almost went on walking, dragging Dean along. "Cas, you know this is crazy, right? Tell me you know that."

Cas put his hands on his shoulders, and gave him that indulgent smile once more. "I know how it might seem to you. But once you meet him, I'm sure you'll understand."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

"It'll be okay. The fight's over, Dean."

Weirdly, he almost believed that, although not in the way Cas probably intended it. He wondered if he'd be the next sacrifice, and how much he'd fight it if he was. After all, if he was dead, then the apocalypse might not happen, right? Or at least he wouldn't have to fight Sam to the death. But what guarantee did he have Zachariah wouldn't kick him right back? If it was God, there'd be no reason to.

Of course. it probably wasn't. He really hoped not. A god that wanted that much blood needed to be put down. But if Cas was in his way, he'd stand no chance. Suddenly he wondered if there were other angels here, and if so, he'd be extra screwed. Maybe he could get lucky and distract Cas for a second - he'd never get through three or four angels.

Cas stepped through the fresh blood on the sidewalk like it was nothing, but Dean avoided it as best he could. He kept looking around, for signs of other angels, cult members with hatchets, guys in pig costumes - what the hell was he looking for? Something was itching in the back of his brain, and he didn't know what. It was like he was starting to figure something out, but unconsciously, and for whatever reason, he couldn't pull it to the forefront of his mind. Again, not drunk enough, not awake enough.

The interior of the church was small and smelled of beeswax, sandalwood, and something else. He'd smelled it before, but couldn't name it. It was herbal, bitter. Where had he smelled it before? It looked like an average church, save for the people in blue robes standing off to the side like palace guards, and ... a throne.

It wasn't a chair; it was too ornate for that. It was on a dais, and was painted gold, with plump red cushions. Fit for a king. Currently empty. Dean was about to make a joke when a male voice boomed "Leave us."

The people in blue split, leaving him and Cas alone with God. Or whoever,

He emerged from the back of the church and took a seat on the throne. He was a tall white guy with swept back silver hair and a manly square jaw. He looked like the type of actor who might be hawking reverse mortgages or boner pills at two AM. Sort of middle of the road good looking, but still fairly nondescript. He was wearing a white suit like he was fucking Tom Wolfe or some shit, but he wasn't, because Dean knew what he looked like. How he had no idea, but he picked up that knowledge somewhere. He focused his blue-gray eyes on him and smiled, and something in Dean's gut recoiled. This was one evil son of a bitch. "So you're Dean Winchester. I've heard so much about you."

"Who the fuck are you and what did you do to Cas?" Dean demanded, pulling his gun. His gun which was not there anymore. He looked around, and found Cas was holding it.

"I told you not to do this," Cas said. He twirled the gun once, and it disappeared from his hands. "You can have it back when you get over this paranoia."

Dean scowled at him. thought of a million nasty things he could have said, and instead thought them at him as hard as he could. He hoped he was mentally shouting.

The man on the throne was smiling. His eyes were aglow with genuine mirth. He was enjoying this. "I'm your lord God, Dean. I would think you'd be more grateful."

"You're God my ass. What the fuck have you done to everyone?"

"Dean," Cas said warningly. "Don't be blasphemous."

Dean glared at him, still mentally shouting all his favorite cursewords. Cas didn't seem to care.

"Come now, Castiel. What kind of decorum could one expect from Hell's favorite torturer?"

That was like a slap across the face. If Dean didn't hate him before, he certainly did now. Cas, for his part, scowled slightly. "I'm not sure that's fair."

"Oh Cas, Dean knows I'm joking. Much like he's joking with you, calling you all those names."

Great. He was a mind reader too? Dean thought a few insults specifically for him.

"Castiel, why don't you leave us for a moment?"

Now Cas frowned. He wasn't so far gone that he didn't realize that sounded fishy as hell. "I don't -"

"It'll be okay. You can wait for him outside. We'll be just a minute." The asshat God said it in a kind, chummy manner, like a game show host consoling a loser.

Cas looked unsure, and that gave Dean a little hope that the real Cas was in there, trying to fight his way out. He was just losing at the moment. Cas looked between him and the good Lord Asshat, and Dean thought that he'd be fine at Cas. He didn't know if he would be, but if this guy could influence Cas in some way, he could hurt him too. There was no reason for them both to get hurt if it could be avoided.

Cas must have heard him, because he nodded, and patted Dean on the back before he walked out of the church. Dean managed to keep his cursing - now exclusively for Asshat - in his mind. As soon as Cas was gone, Asshat sat forward. "You're a curious one, aren't you?"

Dean considered attacking the guy, seeing if Ruby's knife would work on this asshole, but the way he smiled at him, like a predator in a loose fitting skin suit, Dean knew he wasn't going to get the drop on him. Not right now. "What did you do to Cas?"

He leered at him, clearly enjoying this. "In my holy presence, people - and angels - fall at my feet. So why aren't you, Dean? Is it 'cause you're a box full of broken rocks?"

Dean ignored that, although he felt that in the pit of his stomach. It was probably true. He was too damaged to feel much anymore. "So what are you? Beyond a con man. Are there shyster gods? 'Cause I bet you're one."

Lord Asshat made a strange gesture with his fingers, and Dean's legs were kicked out from beneath him, sending him crashing to the floor. Down there, Dean could still smell faint traces of old blood. It was clean now, but people had died bloody here. More sacrifices? Or something else? "While you may not be affected by my aura, I still have the power to kill you at will. Would you like a demonstration?"

Dean sat up with a groan. He landed on his shoulder funny. Goddamn it. Couldn't he go five minutes without something bothering him? Getting older sucked. "Yeah, do it. I've been killed a couple times. What's once more?"

"Oh, I didn't mean you. I meant the angel."

Dean glared at him. "Leave him the fuck alone."

Lord Asshat sat back in his chair, studying Dean like the fascinating toenail he found in his burger. "I was wondering which of you was the pet and which was the master. It's a conundrum, isn't it? I mean, he's totally fucking ridiculous. I didn't think angels could actually go insane, but he's living proof. Well, semi-living. It's a weird gray area with angels. What on earth did you do to him? Do you destroy everything you touch, Dean? Are you the famed anti-Midas, who turns everything in his vicinity to shit?"

He managed to keep his wince inside, but he didn't know if he'd erased it from his thoughts. Dean still wasn't convinced this guy was a god. It was possible, though. It seemed every god he'd ever met had been a big bag of dicks. This guy certainly qualified. "What are you doing here? Don't you know there's an apocalypse happening?"

"Actually, that's exactly why I'm here. I'm not sure I'm down with it, you know?"

Dean climbed to his feet, using the pews to help him, watching Asshat carefully. He was continuing to look at him with a combination of revulsion and amusement that really grated on Dean's nerves. He probably knew that too, and it probably made him happier. Dick bag. "Yeah, I bet the human race being dead is going to cut into your sacrifices."

"Quite. I mean, I should be able to keep a herd around for sustenance, shouldn't I?"

He quickly replayed that in his head. Yep, the fuckhead said that. "Herd? We're not cattle."

"Of course you're not. Cattle has good qualities." Asshat smiled at him, but it was all teeth, and never hit his eyes. It was more a threat to bite than anything else. "But, despite being a fascinating ruin of a human, you're the Michael sword. Hmm. God really does have a wicked sense of humor, doesn't he? Or she or it. I actually lost track. And we can be anything, so that adds layers of complication."

"Who are you really?"

Asshat raised his silver eyebrows at that. "What, so you can look me up and try and figure out a way to kill me? I think not. If it's any consolation, knowing who I am wouldn't help you. Death is a friend of mine."

"If it lives, it can be killed," Dean replied. Okay, Hellhounds were iffy, but surely there was a way to kill them. They just didn't know it yet.

Asshat's leering smile returned. "You'll make one hell of a demon, Dean. But you figured that out in Hell, right?"

Now Dean could feel him. It was like something scuttling around the walls of his brain, searching for dark corners and secret passages. "Get out of my head," he snarled, wishing there was something he could do. But he never learned how to fight on a non-physical plane, if that could even be done.

"Oh, but why? It's hilarious. And also super sad at the same time, you know?" He sank back into his throne with a sigh, crossing his legs. "If you're dead, will Heaven just find a replacement? Castiel didn't think so, but Cas has been out of touch with his fellow cloud pests for a while, hasn't he? Again, the perils of being around you."

"Kill me and find out." It would be an answer, if this fucker could kill him and keep him out of Heaven somehow. Zachariah wouldn't be able to kick him back, and what would they do about the apocalypse then?

"Oh no, I have to get a bit more creative. I mean, holding you for ransom has a certain appeal, but what would I ask for? It's not like angels are trustworthy, because, between you and me, they're toy soldiers. Failure is built right in. Otherwise, angels get cocky, and you have a whole bunch of Lucifer situations going on. Once God worked out the prototypes, the next ones off the line had built in failsafes. Which is why it's extra funny that Castiel thinks he can do a goddamn thing. He can't protect you, Dean. He can't even save himself."

Dean wasn't going to say he'd always kind of suspected that, even though Cas had indeed helped him several times. It was more he didn't want to have to keep relying on his help. Before he went to Hell, he had survived without Cas. He might have to again. Which, in all honesty, sounded fucking terrible. Cas, Sam, and Bobby were pretty much all he had in this world anymore, and he didn't want to lose any of them. "Well, nothing's gonna save you," Dean said. "I'll give you one chance. Let me and Cas go, and we won't come back for twelve hours. By then, you could fuck off to whatever corner of the world you want, and we'll forget this ever happened."

He goggled at him, wide eyed, and barked a laugh. "Or what, you stupid human?"

"Or I'm going to figure out what you are, and I'm going to kill you."

Now he erupted into full belly laughs, bending at the waist despite being in a chair, laughing so loud it seemed to shake the windows. Asshat slapped his knee a couple of times, and then seemed to calm down a bit. "Oh my god. I haven't laughed that hard in centuries. I see why Castiel keeps you as a pet. Hoo." He pretended to wipe tears from his eyes. "You know, the fact that you believe that makes it extra funny."

"I've killed gods before. You won't be special."

That wiped the mirth off his face. "Oh really? I think you'd be mistaken, you jumped up shaved ape. Now be a good little pet, or your angel pays for it." He made a flicking gesture with his fingers, and it was like Dean was hit by an invisible sedan going at least fifty. He was thrown violently out of the church, through doors that were - thankfully - open, but it didn't make the landing any softer. He went down the stairs and ended up finally coming to rest on his face on the sidewalk, tasting blood. Motherfucker.

Very strong hands grabbed him and helped him up. "Are you all right?" Cas asked.

As soon as Dean was on his feet, his various aches and pains were gone, including the one in his shoulder, so Cas must have healed him. How powerful was he around this guy? If he could break his hold on him, but still have the power ... maybe Cas could kill this son of a bitch on his own. Breaking the hold was the problem, though. "Yeah, fine. Cas, you're in there, right? You know this guy isn't your god. He's just some powerful prick who has some kind of worship aura around him. Come on, that has to sound like something you know."

Cas just stared at him, still smiling like he'd done too much Ecstasy in a dance club at one AM. Not that Dean would know anything about that. "Isn't he great?"

Dean shook his head, aware this wasn't going to work. He was going to have to come up with something else to break Asshat's hold on Cas. Dean decided to go about it a different way. "Hey, why don't you go get Sam? You know he wouldn't want to miss meeting God."

This plan had to work. As soon as Cas was away from Asshat, he'd realize he'd been played, and maybe he and Sam could come up with some plan to rescue everyone. Or maybe Cas could communicate enough with the angels that they'd just bring their holy wrath down on this place. He'd be fine with either.

Cas nodded. "He would love him! Well, except for the whole being Lucifer's perfect vessel thing."

Dean grimaced, nodding to match Cas. "So go get him. I'll wait."

They just stood there, nodding at each other like a couple of idiots, and Cas's goofy grin faltered. "What's the problem?" Dean finally asked.

"It seems I can't leave," Cas said, then shrugged. "I guess God wants me here."

Great. Dean had been afraid of something like that, but he'd be hoping he didn't have that much control of Cas. Apparently he did. Shit.

Dean wondered if he could drive out of here, but doubted it. If Cas couldn't leave, why could he? So what did he do now?

Dean again wished he was drunk enough to handle this. But first things first. "Do you know this town?" he asked.

Cas shrugged again. It didn't stop looking weird on him. "A little."

"Great. Take me to the library. We have some research to do."

Cas seemed slightly baffled. "Why?"

"Because existence is eighty percent research, fifteen percent beer, and five percent fighting for your life." He grabbed Cas's shoulders, turned him around, and gave him a very light push. "Lead on, McGruff."

"I don't think that's the expression."

"I don't care."

Dean honestly didn't. He wanted to find out what the fuck Asshat was. and kill him, as soon as possible. But Dean knew there was another problem he was going to have to have handle before any of that.

Would he have to fight Cas? Would Asshat use him as a shield? It seemed like an asshatty thing to do, so probably. How was Dean going to fight Cas and a god at the same time?

After the library, he was definitely finding a bar. It couldn't help, but there was no fucking way it could make anything worse.