Author's Note: WEDNESDAY! Sorry, but still Wednesday, and I'm damn proud of that. Oh, and I don't know if anyone's noticed, but the Niveus Pharma. building? I may or may not have modeled it after the Shinra HQ Building from Final Fantasy VII. Just thought I'd let you guys know. No regrets!

Soul Men
by Judanim

Chapter Eight: "Kings of the Road"

Crowley coughed and made an attempt to stand, but another twist of Pestilence's ring had him writhing on the floor anew.

Gabriel wanted to help him, but he didn't dare turn his back on the Horseman. "So is that how you entertain yourself these days? Experimenting on demons? I'm sure Luci's proud."

"Lucifer stopped caring about anything besides his squabble with his brother once most of the humans were wiped out. I've had to ensure the loyalty of the demons here somehow. Besides, it's fun to watch the cretins squirm," Pestilence said. He eyed Gabriel's blade and leaned back in his chair. "Though I can't imagine you could relate to that."

The trickster's grip on his weapon tightened, his mind racing to come up with some kind of plan. Crowley being incapacitated was going to make this a lot more complicated. He had to stall. "No, can't say that I do. But I can appreciate all the effort you've put into it. You must've been really bored around here."

Pestilence laughed. "Oh, you have no idea. The whole demon thing is getting dull, I must say. Now, a pagan god would be quite the test subject, especially when I have the leverage that I do."

Behind him, Crowley coughed again, and Gabriel felt something hit him in the back of the ankles. The trickster almost kicked back, to tell Crowley that yes, he had this handled, but given the demon's condition he thought better of it. Instead he opted for giving an overdramatic sigh and saying, "You do have me over a barrel. In fact, you win. I hereby consign myself to the fate of being your guinea pig."

He dropped his blade, and to sell the act he even kicked it over to Pestilence's chair, holding his hands up in surrender. The Horseman stared at him, hands folded under his chin in silent judgment.

The whole charade must have had some kind of effect, because Crowley was able to sputter out, "What the hell do you think you're doing, angel?"

Gabriel fought a smile, because the demon's tone was perfect. He loved it when a scheme came together. "There's no use fighting, Crowles. It's only going to get one or both of us hurt, and I can't have that." Perhaps it was a bit much, but underselling it wasn't going to do them any good.

"Forgive me for not believing you." Pestilence stood, putting a determined foot down on Gabriel's blade, and looked behind him, precisely as the trickster had planned.

In the three seconds it took the Horseman to turn around, Gabriel's blade flew out from under his foot and back into its rightful owner's hand. The trickster pounced, but he wasn't quick enough.

Pestilence caught Gabriel round the neck and sent him flying across the room, into one of the floor to ceiling windows that served as three out of four of the walls in the Horseman's penthouse office. Glass cracked and fractured where Gabriel collided with it, and it was only due to an application of magic that it didn't break. The trickster struggled to stand, wind somehow knocked out of him, while Pestilence advanced on him.

"Lucifer warned me about all your tricks, little archangel," the Horseman said. He loomed over Gabriel, radiating an aura of weakness that the trickster couldn't fight despite his best efforts. "Now let's see how you feel about mine."

That ring twisted once more, and Gabriel felt… something. He wriggled and writhed, trying to get away from the sensation, but it was merciless. "No, stop, please," he said, breathless.

The Horseman grinned. "You so-called gods are weaker than I thought."

Without warning a laugh spilled out of Gabriel's mouth, a burst of mirth that had Pestilence stepping back, face shifting from victorious to angry.

"Stop that."

Gabriel tried; he honestly did, but it was no use. "I can't," he said. "It tickles!"

With a snarl Pestilence twisted his ring, hard enough that on a normal human it might have broken his finger. Gabriel broke into a fit of giggles, gasping for air and pleading (something he might have added for dramatic effect) for the torture to end.

As quickly as it had come, the anger melted from Pestilence's face. A smirk emerged in its place. He twisted his ring a third time, and suddenly Gabriel found himself unable to stop laughing.

The trickster couldn't focus on anything except the feeling of being tickled in all of his sensitive spots—his feet, sides, all the way up to his underarms, so much so that he almost didn't notice when Pestilence let out a pained groan. The spell broke, though full awareness was slow to come back to Gabriel.

"Angel, hurry up and help me. We don't know how long that dose will last," came Crowley's voice through the fog.

One blink, another, and then Gabriel started to be able to see the scene in front of him.

Pestilence was lying prone on the floor, less than three feet from Brady's corpse, a syringe full of the Croatoan virus, made clear by its sterile-white label, sticking out from his leg. Gabriel knew he was gaping, mouth open so wide it could catch flies, but he was too busy trying to piece together what might have happened to care.

Crowley spoke again. "C'mon, get off your arse. We have to move."

That brought Gabriel back to the present. He clutched at his blade, only to find it missing. "What happened?"

"Snuck up on the bastard while you were chortling to death over there," Crowley said. He crossed the room and helped Gabriel up. In the demon's free hand was the trickster's blade, which he handed back. Crowley patted his jacket pocket. "I've got the ring too, so let's burn the evidence and get the hell out of here."

Dazed, Gabriel allowed Crowley to lead him back to the elevator. On the way out, he happened to glance down at Pestilence's body and noticed the missing left ring finger, not to mention the fact that the rest of the corpse was rapidly disappearing. He shook his head.

"Please tell me you didn't keep the finger."

The demon gave him a look, one that wasn't entirely devoid of affection. "And ruin my last nice suit? Are you insane?"

Together they snapped their fingers, and the seventieth floor was lit ablaze.


The elevator only went so far as the fifty-ninth floor. Upon exiting, Gabriel asked, "Stairs again?"

Meg and Bela arrived with the answer.

"The other elevators are locked down. The only way out is the stairs or jumping out the window," Bela said. In their absence she had collected a demon-killing weapon of her own, a knife covered in Enochian symbols.

Gabriel tilted his head to the side, rubbing his chin. "We could all survive the jump."

The brunette demon glared at him. "And we'd use up all our energy healing ourselves."

Crowley cleared his throat. "And I don't know about you lot, but I've seen enough of the damned Horsemen of the Apocalypse to last me a lifetime, even one of ours. So for once we agree, Meg. Stairs it is."

Meg looked caught between disgust and smugness, which Gabriel took as progress.

The group headed down the stairs, only to find their way hindered. Croats had joined Pestilence's demons, but it didn't slow them down. Meg and Gabriel took care of the demons again, while Crowley and Bela double-teamed the zombies. They managed to make it outside, through the front door this time, with hardly a scratch, but found their biggest challenge yet awaiting them.

"Holy mother of sin," Crowley said.

Instead of worrying about the enemies, Gabriel turned to his allies. Meg was tense, blade twirling in her fingertips, while Bela stood coolly beside her. On his other side Crowley was scanning the crowd of demons and Croats, eyes shifting from creature to creature like he was counting them.

He wasn't the only one who noticed Crowley's odd behavior. Meg twisted to look at him, eyebrow raised. "Crowley, don't you fucking dare run on us."

Crowley shot her a glare before teleporting, and Gabriel bit down a curse. He had a plan, the trickster told himself, because Crowley always had a plan. He wouldn't just—

Gabriel's thoughts were interrupted when the demons fell upon them. It was a rush of splash, stab, dodge, stab again. For a moment he forgot all together that Crowley wasn't just behind him, until he heard the roar of the Impala's engine.

"I swear to Dad, cupcake, if you don't get back here…"

On cue, the engine's rumbling grew closer, and Croats and demons started running, though many weren't fast enough to get out of the way in time. The Impala mowed down the poor saps, still enchanted with Gabriel's magic.

The ladies stopped, and Bela smirked at the trickster. "I see you finally put your powers to good use."

"Every so often," Gabriel said, smiling despite himself.

The Impala came to a stop in front of them, and Crowley stuck his head out the window, preceded by a splash of holy water. "Get in, before they do!"

A few bold Croats swarmed them as they got to the car, but Gabriel expanded the magic field to knock them back. Bela and Meg jumped in the backseat, while the trickster triumphantly called shotgun.

For a moment Crowley didn't move, eyes fixed ahead and grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled. Gabriel didn't blame him. This was it, what could be the beginning of the end.

"Um, Detroit?" Meg asked, breaking the silence.

Without a word, Crowley threw the Impala into reverse and left Niveus Pharmaceuticals in the dust.