Author's Note: Bit of warning before you dive in: this chapter was a game-changer for me in a way, because the characters who show up to help? Yeah, I didn't plan that at all. But thanks to one of the comments last week, I was inspired to do more with the whole "spotlight on the minor characters" theme, so here you go. Enjoy! (And please don't yell at me; I'm planning to write a prologue explaining how they came to be in their current situation.)
Soul Men
by Judanim
Chapter Seven: "Through Sickness & Health"
After the run-in with Zachariah, both Gabriel and Crowley were paranoid of another incident with angels. They drove straight through the night, not stopping for food or gas or sleep. Gabriel kept the car fueled with a snap of his fingers every three hundred miles, and they were too distracted to think about eating other than the trickster's continual abuse of lollipops.
Somewhere near the Alabama-Tennessee border, Crowley flicked on the heat to combat the evening spring chill. Gabriel was drifting in and out of a restless sleep, when a loud rattling startled him awake.
"What is that?" he asked.
Crowley glanced between the road and the vents, one eyebrow raised. "Haven't the foggiest." The demon put a hand on the dashboard with his fingers outstretched. "The car seems fine."
The trickster frowned. The noise was irritating enough that he had to figure out the mystery behind it. "Let me see," he said and set his hand next to Crowley's. He put out a little magic, its tendrils finding the demon's magic and weaving and twining with it in the Impala's inner workings. Gabriel squinted as he tried to see what his magic did. "Are those… Legos?"
They withdrew their magic, Crowley shaking his head and Gabriel confused. The trickster would've discussed it, but they were careful about conversation in the car now. While Gabriel was sure he'd cleared out any kind of angelic tracking device Zachariah might have planted, they couldn't take any chances. It was bad enough Balthazar knew what they were about; all it would take was a few choice words to get back to Michael, and all their plans would be shot.
The desolation and destruction witnessed in New Orleans was nothing compared to the Midwest, ground zero for the Croatoan virus. More and more packs of zombies popped up as they closed in on the Niveus Pharmaceuticals headquarters. These met their ends at the Impala's front end, enchanted with a tight forcefield of trickster magic.
The expending of resources turned out to be a wise idea by the time the pair hit the epicenter of Pestilence's domain, Lima, Ohio. Croats were everywhere, but they didn't slow Crowley and Gabriel down. Crowley only brought the car to a stop when they were within sight of Niveus Pharmaceuticals, and strategy and rest became something of a requirement.
After a brief nap, they surmised the situation. The building was warded by several layers on the outside, forcing traffic through two points of entry, the front door and the back door. Demons patrolled the area in strict formation, with no convenient gaps between routes for them to exploit.
"Looks like we'll have to push through the old-fashioned way." Gabriel said, as he twirled his angel blade between his fingers and leaned against the Impala's side.
"Azi would have made this easier, but he also might have given us away." From the trunk Crowley retrieved a shotgun, extra rock salt shells, and two flasks of holy water. He handed one to Gabriel. "Besides, we could do with a bit of swashbuckle, and you know it."
Gabriel smirked, because the demon wasn't wrong. He was antsy, this side of twitching. Two years of being on the vigil for Croats had changed his appetite for violence, and sinking his blade into something sounded good right about now. He glanced at the flask in Crowley's hand. "Mind the splash, cupcake."
The demon mirrored the expression. "Keep an eye for stakes, darling. These grunts might actually be expecting us."
"And here I thought we were far too clever for that." Gabriel straightened. "So, back door?"
Crowley nodded. "Sneakier, much more our style."
There was no arguing that. They slunk along the perimeter of the headquarters, until they had a straight shot to the back door. Difficult though it was, they waited for the patrol routes to go in their favor, though the advantage wasn't much, and then made a dash for it.
Gabriel took point, his blade the faster and more importantly quieter method of dispatching demons. Crowley hung back, using what telekinesis he could to keep an enemy in place, though sometimes it was simpler just to teleport behind one and apply the butt of his shotgun to the back of their heads.
The amount of opposition was healthy but less than expected, even given their planning. To increase suspicion, when they reached the back door it was wide open, the body of the demon who might have been guarding it slumped on the floor with a stab wound in its stomach.
The trickster nudged the corpse with his foot. "I'm not even going to be grateful for that."
"Someone can't have beaten us to the punch." Crowley knelt and examined the injury, fingertips brushing against the new air hole for the meatsuit's intestines. Just as he did, he hissed and jumped back like he'd been burnt. "Fuck. An angel blade did this," Crowley said, flexing his hand and looking between it and the body.
"What angel would want to raid Pestilence's place?"
"Hello, boys."
Demon and trickster whirled to see two women, well two demons in female meatsuits. One was blond and about the same height as Gabriel's vessel, the other shorter and brunette. The dark-haired demon was holding an angel blade still dripping with its last victim's blood.
Gabriel relaxed, but Crowley wasn't nearly as trusting and kept one hand near the trigger of his shotgun. "Fancy meeting you here, Bela, Meg."
"What took you two so long?" Bela asked, British accent sharp around the edges, clashing nicely with Crowley's rounder, growling tones. "We've had the path cleared for ages."
"Pardon us for not rushing headlong into danger," Crowley said, hackles well and truly raised.
That reaction would be courtesy of Meg. Even though the two were more or less on the same side now, here at the end of things, their former roles as one of Lucifer's most loyal and one of his would-be assassins still haunted them.
"I take it Balthazar ratted on us," Gabriel said and put a hand on Crowley's shoulder in an attempt to keep him calm.
Bela smirked. "More like we forced it out of him. You don't bring home a hellhound and expect not to give an explanation."
Even as Gabriel tightened his grip on his demon's shoulder, Crowley surged forward. "If you touch a hair on my dog's head—"
"Your mutt is fine," Meg said with a roll of her eyes. "We, however, won't be so lucky if we don't get moving."
"Wait, you're helping us?" Gabriel asked. While he didn't share Crowley's distaste of Meg (after all, she wouldn't be the first Lucifer had betrayed), her statement still came as a surprise.
Bela crossed her arms. "Hey, it's our asses on the line too. Can't trust you two to save the world all on your own, now can we? Not if half the stories I've heard are true."
Given their previous attempts to stop the Apocalypse, Gabriel couldn't disagree. "Careful of Balth's stories. He tends to exaggerate."
With the conversation turned away from Azi Crowley seemed to lighten up a little. "Speaking of him, did he happen to tell you the plan?"
Meg nodded. "Pump Mr. Sick full of his own medicine, grab the ring, and get out."
"And, we've already discovered where they stash the virus," Bela said.
"You always were efficient, Bela," Crowley said, smiling just a touch. "Well then, lead the way."
In the spirit of subterfuge and conservation of magic, the group took the stairs. Both the elevator and teleportation would have forced them into a vulnerable position, and the climbing didn't bother any of the supernatural creatures. A few of Pestilence's demons crawled the stairwell, but with Meg in the lead and Gabriel at the rear they were but a distraction.
Meg stopped them at the fifty-ninth floor. "It's here. Only problem is, none of the rooms this far up are identified. We'll have to do a brute-force search to find the storage room."
"Great. Not like we're working on a time table or anything." Gabriel shook his head. "All right, let's split up."
"Because that's not a guaranteed way to get us all killed," Meg said.
Crowley gave her a look. "We haven't got time for anything else."
Bela stepped between them. "If we stand and here and bicker we will get killed, so can we not?"
Gabriel and Crowley took the left half of the floor, leaving Meg and Bela the other side. Most of the offices were normal and unlocked, but halfway through their search Gabriel encountered a sealed, white door with no knob.
"I think we found it," he said and applied enough of his powers to pry it open.
The place was tiny, crammed wall-to-wall with shelving units lined with boxes of vials.
Crowley plucked one of the vials from its box and turned it on its side. "CRT-1858," he read from the label, a grin forming on his face. He pocketed two of the vials and tossed two to Gabriel. "Let's go knock the Horseman from his saddle."
The demon went out into the hallway first. Gabriel lingered, toying with the idea of setting the room ablaze. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the Crowley utter a frustrated, "Bugger."
Gabriel raised an eyebrow and peeked his head into the doorway. Another demon, this one wearing a blond, mid-twenties man, had joined Crowley in the hallway.
"Well isn't this a surprise, Crowley," the newcomer said. "Last I heard you were slumming it over in Purgatory."
"Didn't suit me," Crowley said. "I see the Apocalypse hasn't done you any favors either. Brady, wasn't it?"
This Brady character sneered. "Well you try being cooped up in this building for the last four years. Speaking of, what are you doing here? Don't tell me you're trying to suck up to a Horseman like that one coward angel."
The trickster took that as his cue to jump into the conversation. He teleported behind Brody, grabbed the demon's arm, and with his blade carved a binding symbol into his skin.
Brady groaned and cursed, twisting to glare at Gabriel. "You're alive too? Figures traitors would stick together."
Gabriel bent the demon's arm further. "We're here to see your boss, not talk to you. Take us to him."
"You can't be serious," Brady said with a pained laugh.
Crowley splashed him with holy water, and Gabriel held Brady in place. "Deadly. Now, if you don't mind?"
The Horseman's lackey grunted and gnashed his teeth, but he led Crowley and Gabriel to a locked elevator on the other side of the floor. Along the way, they passed Bela and Meg, who took quick notice of the situation and made themselves scarce. Gabriel only hoped they didn't run on them now.
The elevator ride up to the seventieth floor was silent and more than just a little awkward. Gabriel shot a look to Crowley, asking with the barest of movements what they were going to do with Brady. Crowley gave a little nod to the trickster's blade and then to the door, which seemed like a solid enough plan.
With a bright ding, the elevator door slid open to reveal a pallid, feeble-looking old man lounging in an armchair. The White Horseman himself, Pestilence.
He didn't seem surprised to see them either. In fact, he clapped once the trio stepped into the room and rasped out, "How clever of you to have made it this far, boys, I'll admit, but this as far as you go."
Brady started to laugh, but the sound caught in his throat, turning into an unsettling gurgle. The demon collapsed and didn't move again.
"He's served his usefulness," Pestilence said.
Crowley took a half-step back. "How…? Your powers only affect humans."
The Horseman grinned and twisted the ring on his left hand. "Why don't you find out?"
Gabriel tried to shield Crowley, but it did no good. The demon crumpled to the ground with a keening groan, blood trickling from his mouth.
