Title:Seraphs and Phoenix Wings (9/?)
Author: daksgirl
Rating: M

Pairings:Dean/ Castiel tones
Genre: Family/ Drama
Spoilers: None!
Warnings: Cursing, some bodily fluids, that's about it.

Word Count: 3,560 (WIP)
Summary: War is a grumpy toddler and Fenrir has a plan.

A/N: Again, thank you so much for the feedback and for reading! :D I really appreciate it. My Norse knowledge is gleaned from a few books and Wikipedia, so if there are any discrepancies, I apologize. I also enjoyed writing the horsemen all together, really wish we got to see them all interact on the show! I got the impression that War would be the youngest and Death the oldest, so sort of wrote them that way. Just my own personal interpretation. Enjoy!

….

War's angry voice boomed throughout the motel, and every demon present winced at the answering echo of yet another piece of furniture meeting its violent end. The honeymoon suite was in even worse condition than before; shards of splintered wood and shattered glass littered the carpet as War furiously stalked around the room. The horseman's eyes were blackened and blue, his nose taped with gauze as he cast around for something else to vent his frustrations on.

"She broke my nose!" he screamed, seizing an untouched pillow from the bed, and in one motion ripped it straight down the middle. A plume of feathers erupted into the air as the horseman shook and raged at the pitiful scrap of material. "That little bitch of a human broke my fucking nose!"

Pestilence sighed, plucking a wayward feather that had landed in the sticky pus trails lining his mouth. He studied it for a moment as War continued to stomp around the room.

"Take it down a notch little brother," he murmured, flicking the feather away from him. "She's dead now, I killed her myself."

War turned on him, his eyes glinting with the promise of violence, mouth twisted in a snarl.

"Yeah and you did it too damn quick," he hissed. "She should have suffered."

Pestilence shook his head, settling himself more comfortably in the only untouched spot of floor War hadn't thrown something at. He scratched idly at a weeping sore on the back of his hand, digging his dirty fingernails into the enflamed flesh. With any luck he'd get an infection.

"She overturned Famine's wheelchair too you know," he remarked. "I don't hear him complaining."

The horseman in question had been wheeled into the corner of the room by a nervous looking demon. He slumped there, breathing heavily and had been watching War's tantrum with amused yellowed eyes. He grinned toothily at Pestilence as his name was mentioned.

War shot a glare at both horsemen, shrugging sullenly. "Well that's cause it was hilarious. The bony bastard never knew what hit him. Man, your face."

Famine's hand shook as he raised it, thin fingers struggling to muster up the energy to flip a rude gesture at his brother.

"Drama…Queen," Famine wheezed. War growled something under his breath, sticking his tongue out childishly as Famine chuckled to himself, dropping his hand back down onto the armrest of his wheelchair.

Pestilence shook his head, looking over at the opposite corner of the room at the silent figure who hadn't said anything. "You see what I have to deal with?"

Death had procured the only surviving chair in the room. He sat demurely, leaning back with his legs crossed, long fingers idly tapping against his leg, his other hand resting on his cane. He was frowning.

"You were always too hot headed War," the oldest horseman said absently. "Now sit down and shut up. I'm trying to think."

Chastened, War sulked over to Pestilence, sliding down the wall to join his brother on the floor. Pestilence gave him a sympathetic pat to the knee that left a wet stain, and War grimaced at him, wiping his pants angrily, still muttering.

Slowly Death leant forward, the chair creaking beneath him, and his dark eyes glittering. "Instead of throwing childish fits, I believe we should discuss our current situation. To be exact, why Lucifer has summoned us."

War shrugged one shoulder churlishly, pressing his fingers carefully against his taped nose. "We don't know. Kinda hoped you have some answers; you're the brains of the family after all."

Death looked at War disdainfully. "Believe it or not, the dead don't say much. I was only just starting to hear some rumbles that you idiots had been summoned. Now-" he snorted angrily. "Look what's happened." He leant back in the chair, frowning as he resumed tapping his fingers against one thigh. "We haven't been in the same room together for close to a millennia. I've been here five minutes and I'm already sick of you. Could you at least try not to annoy me?"

Pestilence grinned, gums bleeding as he elbowed War in the side. "Oh Death, we didn't know you cared."

There was a dry rustle, and suddenly, Satan was among them.

Lucifer looked around the room, smirking. "Well I'm glad you're enjoying the family reunion. So touching."

Death leaned forward, jet black eyes stern. The devil looked tired, he noted; dark bags had formed under his eyes and his cheeks were gaunt. The toll of running the apocalypse was beginning to show.

"I assume we are to play some role in your plans for the domination of heaven," Death said dryly, tapping his cane against the carpet. "I regret to inform you that I have little interest in your plans."

Lucifer chuckled, hands behind his back as he rocked on the balls of his feet. "Oh Death. Your interests are no concern of mine. I summoned you to serve me. Do what I want and I'll release you. You'll be back to touching old ladies in no time."

Death scowled angrily. "You should show me more respect, child," he threatened. "I was reaping before you were created you arrogant little pri-"

Pestilence butted in before Death could get any further. "And what exactly do you want from us?"

Lucifer's gaze didn't waver from Death's. "Well that would be telling wouldn't it?" he said softly. "Why ruin the surprise when we're so close?"

Death struggled to control his anger, his hand gripping his cane so tight there was a creaking sound. "I don't appreciate being leashed then not told why," he murmured, eyes flashing.

Lucifer shrugged. "Noted and disregarded," he said coolly, finally turning away.

Death shook his head, forcing himself to relax and sink back into the chair. Let the little brat think he was in control. "I'd ask you to reconsider this…endeavor of yours, but I have a feeling it won't do much good."

"You'd be right," Lucifer said, eyes glancing around the ruined room. "Now that you're here we can really get the party started. Final preparations are nearly in place, I'm not about to stop now."

Pestilence frowned. "I heard you had rustled up some dragons," he remarked. "I don't suppose they're part of this plan you have for us?"

War stopped cautiously prodding his nose at that, and looked up with bloodshot eyes. "Don't be stupid," he growled at his brother. "Dragons died out a long time ago. I should know, I was there."

Death tapped his cane against the floor again. "Not exactly a problem for the Devil though is it?" Lucifer shot a glance at him, but the horsemen purposefully didn't look at him, a bored expression on his thin face.

Pestilence was not about to give up so easily. Clearing his lungs with a phlegmy cough, he wiped the back of his hand on his shirt. "What do you need them for?" he asked curiously. "Only thing they're good at is hoarding gold and virgins. Both of which are hard to find in this day and age."

"It is none of your concern," the devil said curtly. He placed his hands on his hips as the horsemen glanced at each other with disbelieving eyes, tapping his foot against the floor.

"We're ushering in a new era gentlemen!" the devil exclaimed. "How about a little more enthusiasm?"

War glared up at him, holding up his hand. "I lost a finger and got my nose broken. Fuck your new era, AND the enthusiasm you rode in on. This sucks," he said bitterly.

Pestilence clucked his tongue sympathetically, throwing a hand against his sweaty forehead dramatically. "Oh phooey, there goes your hopes of being crowned prom queen. Shame, you showed such promise."

Famine wheezed with amusement as War spluttered, glaring murderously at his brother as Pestilence merely grinned at him.

"You know what? Screw you all!" he screeched angrily, finally finding his voice and pointing wildly around the room. "ESPECIALLY you, Lucifer. Fuck you, and you and YOU and even yo-"

War's tirade was interrupted as a demon hurried into the room, dark hair flying. She bowed her head quickly, keeping her eyes to the floor as she took a deep shaky breath.

"Sire it has begun. The angel-"

Lucifer cut her off with a wave of his hand and the demon fell silent, waiting.

"Very well. Thank you, Meg." The devil turned back to the horsemen, smiling serenely as he spread his hands. "Well this has been…enlightening. But if you could excuse me gentlemen, I'm needed elsewhere."

War peered suspiciously over at the demon, huffing. "And when do we get to play with the angel huh?" he demanded. "I have a score to settle."

Lucifer's eyes flashed angrily, but his calm serene smile never faltered. "Never," he said calmly. "You keep your filthy horseman hands away from him."

And just like that, he was gone. Pestilence scowled at the spot the devil had stood. "You know, I'm really starting to dislike that guy."

Death rolled his eyes with a deep weary sigh. "You and everyone else in the cosmos."

…..

There had been only a few times in his life when he had been really impressed by something. Once was when Dean had discovered how many corn dogs he could fit in his mouth at one time. Another was when he first met Jessica. Another still when he found out that he could kill demons with his mind. But this moment right here? This was definitely up there with those.

Sam stared in barely concealed awe at the creature currently inhabiting Bobby's restored living room. Crowley had managed to recoup enough of his powers to fully restore the house, and it looked pretty much normal again. It just missed two certain people, but Sam was trying desperately not to think of that. He had been woken up by a pretty freaked Dean, who had been shouting about a big ass dog in the yard. Bobby had yelled at him to shut up and stop drinking, but then Castiel had appeared with said dog in tow and Sam had to say…that was one big ass dog.

Fenrir sat serenely in the middle of the living room, forepaws stretched in front of him. Lying down on his stomach, his head still reached Sam's waist, and the youngest Winchester found himself staring openly at the powerful white fangs that flashed every time the creature spoke.

Bobby rubbed his eyes tiredly, stifling a yawn as he found himself having to deal with yet another supernatural creature on his doorstep.

"Ok someone run this by me again. Who are you and why are you here?" he asked wearily.

Did the wolf just smile? Was that possible? Sam's head was going to explode with questions in a minute.

"My apologies for not announcing my presence earlier," the black wolf said. "However, I decided to wait until this morning to greet you all. My name is Fenrir."

Crowley leant against the wall, looking bored. The panic room was restored but no-one had really thought to put him back in there. There didn't seem much point considering. "Oh really? And why was that? We could have used your furry ass when some horsemen were paying us a visit you know."

Fenrir dipped his head in acknowledgement. "The loss of your comrades saddens me. If I had arrived earlier, believe that I would have leant my assistance. Unfortunately I was not present then. It takes time to travel to your world from Asgard, as I unfortunately was not born with wings." The wolf glanced over at Castiel, who sat quietly on the couch, Dean hovering nearby. "I did not wish to disturb you last night Uncle, so I waited until this morning."

Uncle. That was so weird to hear. Sam glanced over at him and the angel cleared his throat, avoiding everyone's eyes. "I…thank you Fenrir. I was busy…reapplying some of the wards." Dean shifted next to him, and the angel shot a brief glance at him before turning his attention back to the creature in front of him. "You have changed your mind about helping us?"

Fenrir did that weird dog smiling thing again. Man, Sam wanted to pet him. That was probably a bad idea. "I was always going to help my Father. There was never a question of my loyalty."

Sam shook his head bewilderedly at that, holding up a hand to halt the conversation. "Wait a minute, I'm having a bit of trouble here. Father?"

The wolf looked over at him with bright gold eyes. "I forget how little you mortals remember of our Nordic ways." He shifted his large body, nails digging into the carpet as he breathed out a chuffing sigh. "Listen closely then human, for I will not repeat it. Loki fathered three children with the giantess Angrboða. There was Fenrir the great wolf, prophesized to one day kill Odin himself, Jörmungandr, the world serpent who spans the earth and seas, and Hel, who rules over the dead realm of Niflheim."

Sam blinked. This was like a geeky research dream come true. "You…have a serpent as a brother?"

Fenrir dipped his head again. Sam decided it was the wolf's way of nodding. "Indeed. Loki also gave birth to Sleipnir, Odin's eight legged steed, when he took the form of a mare and mated with Svaðilfari."

Everyone stared at the wolf, eyes wide as this information was processed. Crowley was the first to break it, chuckling loudly.

"And I thought us demons were kinky."

Sam was going to have to scrub his brain with bleach at all the mental images he was having right now. "Gabriel gave birth to a horse?" he squeaked.

Castiel shook his head impatiently. "It is of little import, Sam," he frowned at the wolf, leaning forward, his arms on his knees as he studied the creature in front of him. "If you were willing to help, then why did you leave after Gabriel revealed to you his true nature?"

Fenrir turned his intense gaze to the angel. "My apologies again, Uncle. I had someone I needed to locate urgently after you visited Asgard. In truth, I was not surprised by my Father's admission. There has always been something different about Loki," the wolf barked out a deep gruff sound, and with a smile, Sam realized it was a laugh. "Perhaps that is why the gods always feared him so. My Father and his offspring are not always…welcome, in Asgard."

"Well great," Bobby grumbled. "But what exactly can you help us with? Dunno if you've noticed, but your daddy isn't here. Got himself captured by the devil."

The growl that filled the small room was loud, and Sam flinched as he felt the sound reverberate in his chest. Fenrir's eyes were angry slits as he looked over at the old hunter, tail flicking restlessly as his ears flattened.

"I am aware. Lucifer has taken my Father to a small complex. I believe you mortals call them 'motels.' It is my intention to retrieve him."

Crowley was inspecting his nails, and glanced up at that, frowning. "And what makes you think we're about to just run off and put ourselves in trouble, all over again I might add, for him?"

It was Castiel who answered him. The angel shifted on the sofa, turning hard eyes towards the demon. "If you remember, I believe you made a deal."

Crowley groaned, eyes upturned to the ceiling. "I knew that would backfire."

Ignoring the muttering demon, the angel turned back to Fenrir. "We have no weapons that would work against Lucifer. Attempting to breach this…motel, with Lucifer and the horsemen inside, is suicide," he shook his head helplessly, fingers splaying against his knee. "As much as it pains me to admit, I am unsure we will be able to rescue Gabriel that way."

Those golden eyes looked back at the angel, unflinching. "Lucifer is powerful, yes, but he is not expecting such a bold move on our behalf. I believe the element of surprise may weigh in our favor."

Dean finally decided to contribute to the conversation, and Sam flinched as his brother stepped forward aggressively. Don't piss off the demi-god Dean. He silently pleaded.

"Surprise didn't work so great for us last time," Dean growled. "You're going to have to give us something better than that."

Fenrir watched him amusedly, flicking one ear absently. "You did not have a Norse god with you last time. I am not bound by the same rules that extend to the angels. Lucifer expected you." Both ears flattened as he bared his teeth in a grimace, fangs gleaming white against his black gums. "Lucifer believes all the lower deities have fled in fear. Most have. But not Fenrir." Sam felt a rush of fear as the wolf rose to his paws, his large form an intimidating sight as he bared his teeth. "In his arrogance, Lucifer does not expect any of us to fight. My presence should be …unexpected."

Dean didn't look convinced as he crossed his arms, boldy staying put even at the sight of a standing Fenrir. "You're sure where Lucifer took Gabriel?"

Fenrir nodded again. "Yes. The horsemen are not present, Lucifer has moved them." Something softened in the great wolf's eyes as he slowly moved forward, his body dwarfing Dean's in stature as he approached the human. "Do not fear mortal, my Uncle will be safe in my keeping."

Dean looked uncomfortable, finally backing away from the wolf. "Cas? You wanna weigh in on this plan?" he asked nervously.

The angel studied the standing wolf closely. "If you believe we can safely rescue Gabriel despite Lucifer's presence…then I am most certainly in."

Dean balked at that, turning wide eyes to the angel. "What? But Cas, an archangel couldn't fight him. And with your…waning powers…" he gestured helplessly. "You'll be like a newborn lamb thrown in front of a starving wolf." Dean glanced back at Fenrir. "I mean…no offence," he added hurriedly.

Sam braced himself for another fight to break out, but was pleasantly surprised when Cas merely smiled amusedly as he gazed up at the eldest Winchester. "I appreciate your concern, Dean. However I believe my powers will be sufficient to retrieve Gabriel with Fenrir's help. Besides," the angel turned his gaze towards Crowley, still leaning against the wall. "Crowley will be going with me."

Caught like a deer in the headlights, the demon's eyes widened as he froze. "What? No I'm bloody well not."

Bobby glared at him. "If the angel says you're going, you're going." He growled, jaw set and eyes flinty from beneath the visor of his cap. Crowley waved his hands in front of him frantically, eyes desperate as they darted from person to person to wolf.

"Um, hello, I'm kind of on Hell's most wanted list. The last place I want to go is anywhere near the devil!"

Castiel seemed unmoved by the demon's pleas. "You have an obligation to me and my brother. We help you, you help us remember?"

The look the demon gave him was anything but friendly. "I hate you. So bloody much."

Fenrir bared his teeth, and the demon fell silent. "You will accompany my Uncle. Or I will rip your weak heart from your chest and gorge on your entrails."

Crickets could almost be heard in the deathly silence that followed the wolf's words. Crowley's shoulders slumped as he admitted defeat.

"Well when you put it that way…what are we waiting for?" he asked weakly.