Author's Note: Taking updates at a slower pace because this story is going to be quite a bit shorter than the last I think. :

Ch. 2, It was the…

It's no secret that angels were known for their might and power, their ability to lift heavy objects, to smite things with holy cosmic energy. There was certainly something to be said about Dean's finesse with these abilities.

"That was…horrible." Cas said, blinking at the smatter of gore before him.

'Try smiting the vampire' Cas had suggested to Dean, having been training the hunter to use that particular skill. Dean had smacked his palm to the vampires head and pushed his grace into it forcefully, to the point that the molecules inside reacted violently and the creature exploded, sending flesh, bones, and organs to splatter against every available surface of the room.

Dean slowly turned to look at Cas, a piece of something—Dean was trying very hard not to think about what—dangling off his nose. 'Seriously, what is that? Liver? Spleen?'

Cas opened his mouth to speak again but Dean held up his hand to silence him, scowling. He was going to mojo himself clean and forget this ever happened. He had already been in a bad mood before he effectively turned a vampire into a bomb. They had hunted the vampire in question after it had bitten and changed some poor news reporter, the kind with a big dream and a small wallet. The vampire had some interesting things to say. 'I'm surprised you didn't get the message sooner, since we already sent some goons to Crowley's. Word has it that you're bosom pals now.'

Dean was about to set things straight and possibly tear Crowley a new one. He dialed the number that he had for Crowley and found the number disconnected. 'Bastard changed his number.' After a quick text to Sam asking if Gabriel could get the new number for him, he received a text with the new digits.

Crowley looked at his phone on the top of his desk as it sounded off with Sir Mixalot. He didn't recognize the number, but had an inkling who it was. Eyes still on the phone he said to Balthazar, "I bet you ten pounds that's a Winchester."

Not even a minute after Crowley's ringtone stopped, the sound of Balthazar's cell vibrating filled the room. He groaned and stood up straight from where he was leaning over the back of Crowley's chair, reaching into his pocket and pulling the offending piece of technology out.

"Same number?"

"Worse."

Crowley raised an eyebrow in question.

"Gabriel." He said, sighing before answering the call. "Hello, dear brother mine. Whatever is the matter?"

"I was just wondering if you and your lover boy knew anything about the big cheese of the vampires moving into action."

"There's a possibility that we did, yes." Balthazar said, hand tucked into the crook of his elbow that supported his phone.

"And you didn't think to spread the word? Shame on you!"

"Look," Balthazar said before walking over to the sofa and flopping back on it, "do we look like babysitters to you?"

"I hope not, but it still would have been nice to give them a heads up."

"And? It's hardly like they can't handle a few measly vampires on their own. Also, don't think I can't hear that music playing in the background. Next time you feel like admonishing me, don't do it from a bar."

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger. I was just giving you a heads up. If things do get hairy, they're probably going to turn to their estranged uncles for help."

Gabriel's comment was met with silence for a moment as Balthazar sat there with a sour look on his face, the words 'estranged uncles' echoing in his head like a bitter note. "Bite me."

"I wouldn't want to make your boyfriend jealous. Plus that would be a smidge incesty, so I think I'm going to have to end this before things gets weird between us. I hope you understand."

Balthazar scoffed before jabbing the end call button and crossing his arms. He would have to get him back for that comment later.

"Problem?"

"Congratulations, you're a monkey's uncle."

Gabriel had just placed his phone in his pocket and picked up his drink when a song with a familiar hook started up and Sam shot a sharp glare at him.

He choked on his beer and started laughing, "I swear that's not me, kiddo!" The archangel was practically in stitches.

"It's not funny. You tortured me with this song!"

"Then let's make some better memories!"

Gabriel hooked an arm around Sam's waist and pulled him out onto the floor. It was your typical kind of club; dimly lit; bright, multicolored lights; modern furniture; and a variety of different people gyrating on the dance floor.

'I never meant to be so bad to you, one thing I said that I would never do. A look from you and I would fall from grace, and that would wipe the smile right from my face.'

"Gabriel…Gabriel." Sam said, alarm tinting his voice. He couldn't have stopped dancing, even if he wanted to, as he found his movements being controlled.

"Come now, Samsquatch, would it kill you to have a little fun?"

"This isn't fun, it's dance rape." Sam shouted over the music.

"Well I couldn't let you out here on your own. Big figure like yours, you would probably be tripping all over your feet."

"I can dance."

"Yeah, but if I let you go, you'll dance with that skanky waitress with the fake jugs at the bar."

"So?" Sam found himself being flung out, Gabriel's hand clasping his and pulling him back in.

"That would be rude, this is our song! I tell you what, finish this dance with me and you get to choose our next destinations for the week."

Sam couldn't help himself, he started geeking out thinking of all the places he wanted to go, people he wanted to meet. Maybe meet the real Ghandi this time and not a wax statue brought to life by Paris Hilton. Well, why not? What went on in Vegas and all that. Worst comes to worse, he could just blame it on the heat of the moment.

Two figures sat in a dimly lit room, moonlight filtering in through a small, boarded up window. One of them slid their long, sharp fingernails lightly against the polished surface of the table, the motion making an unnerving scratching noise.

"Did you find it?"

"I'm sorry, my lord, but it wasn't there. Someone must have already taken it." They wore a pained expression, disliking having to bring the bad news to his superior.

The other man's face pinched in frustration, but only slightly, still keeping his cool composure. It would be unfit for an alpha to display his emotions so easily. But they needed that book if they were to make their move against the Winchesters and the one who hunted down his brothers and sisters like sheep. He wanted to see them strung up and stripped of their skin, tortured as they had been. Then, as the life slipped away from them, have them turned into the very things they hunted.

Author's note: Because it's not a proper Sabriel fanfic without that song. ;P…or maybe it's more proper without it. XD

Also, it creeps me out how many parallels I'm starting to be able to draw between the new episodes and my fanfic. _;

As always, thanks for reading, lovelies! Should be getting into the plot soonish~ :