a/n: Aw, you guys! Your reviews make me so smiley in my face. :D

This chapter has a lot of flashes, and we have specific reference to episodes 6x22 and 7x01/02/17/21/22/23.

Oh, also. I named this chapter for a Jeff Buckley song because 1) there is mojo and 2) I could. SOMEtimes writers get drunk with power.

Enjoy!


Chapter 12: Mojo Pin

You know me, how I can't let go.
And we're not gods, we're just hacks;
All that life amongst the cracks.
The scars, the siege that breaks,
The ugliest scene, the worst mistakes,
And everywhere I see her face.

-The Airborne Toxic Event, "Innocence"

Flash
"Meg, I have very little time for frivolity. I'm in the middle of—"

"A war. Yes, Clarence, I know. We all know. Don't we, Desi?"

The cat opened one eye, stared, and then closed it again. Meg shooed her off the couch and dragged Cas down next her.

"That's exactly why we're here." She grabbed the bowl of popcorn and hit play on the remote. "It's time to fix some gaps in your education, Clarence."

"What is this?"

"It's called The Big Lebowski. Next we're watching Heathers. If you don't love one or both of them, you can spank me for wasting your time." She offered him a wicked grin. "See? Win-win."

He studied her through narrowed, thoughtful eyes. Finally, "Pass the popcorn," he said and settled back against the cushions.

Flash
"Clarence, what in all the levels of Dante's Hell have you done to my kitchen?"

It looked like a bomb had gone off. Flour was everywhere. Mixing bowls were stacked three high. Desdemona sat on the counter rolling an egg between her paws. Cas stood in the middle of it all wearing an apron (over his stupid trench coat…and where had he gotten an apron anyway?), also covered in flour, with a sheepish expression.

"I attempted to make cookies. There were…complications."

She blinked. "Cookies." A quick reach and she had the egg away from the cat. "Why…?" She closed her eyes and rubbed them. "Cookies. They have cookies at the store, featherbrain."

"Yes. I thought you would enjoy homemade ones more."

Dark brows arched toward her hairline. "You were making me cookies? Don't you have better things to do? Nasty archangels to fight? Baby Winchester souls to find?"

He looked nonplussed. "You like cookies."

Her mouth opened. Closed again. She stared around the wrecked kitchen and shook her head in disbelief. Finally her lips curved into a bemused little smile. "All right, Betty Crocker, first things first. Lock the cat in the bathroom and clean up this mess. I'll hit the store to resupply."

"I don't understand," he said.

"Honestly? I don't either. But it looks like we're bakin' some fuckin' cookies."
Flash

Remy held his flask out to Cas, but the angel shook his head. "Probably don't do you much good anyway, I guess."

"No. I must drink a much larger quantity to feel alcohol's effects." The goat bleated and Cas stroked its head. "Are you sure this will work?"

Remy took the lead rope and guided the animal across the flagstones. Its hooves made discordant clacking sounds, like a frightened woman's shoes. "Truth or comforting lie?" he said at last.

"Surprise me."

He took another a last swig off the flask before he screwed the lid back on and stowed it away. "She gon' be fine, angel. This ain't my first trip to the crossroads."

Truth or comforting lie? A mix of both, surely. No, it wasn't Remy Abellard's first time, but neither would Meg come out of this unscathed—if she came out of this at all. Cas accepted it for what it was and nodded his thanks.

"You ready with that jar? The powder and the blood gotta hit at the same time, or we'll have to start all over. These black kid goats ain't so easy to come by, so let's don't waste this one."

Maya, Remy's apprentice, housekeeper, and (Cas suspected) lover, walked around the circle that enclosed Meg and lit long sticks of incense. She muttered prayers under her breath, and Cas could just make out the words over the goat's cries.

"'Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth; for thy love is better than wine.'" She hummed a note or two and began again. "'I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine: he feedeth among lilies.'"

Cas turned questioning eyes on Remy. The Hoodoo man shrugged. "We usually use Psalms, but she's a demon."

"So you chose the Bible's greatest love song instead?"

"Ah well. Love is why we're here, isn't it?" He winked, but before a deeply befuddled Cas could reply, he raised the knife and nodded toward the jar.

Cas fumbled with the lid a moment, but he had it off by the time the goat let out its last, loudest scream. The iron scent of blood filled the air, and as it splashed onto the flagstones, Cas threw a handful of the powder to mingle with it. Remy's voice was like thunder, and power hummed in the air with a physical presence. Cas felt his Grace stir in response.

Maya knelt next to Meg and anointed her forehead and pulse points with oil. She still murmured the Song, and incense smoke danced around the two women like snakes' coils. Remy's voice rolled on and on. The mingled odors of blood, incense, and herbs were dizzying, and Cas felt the ground tilt beneath his feet. He shook his head and tried to focus on Meg.

He could see her in two parts now, more clearly than ever. Her vessel was still, utterly lifeless, and he detected only the faintest spark within it. Her true form fought to escape, claws raking and teeth gnashing. Agony distorted her finely drawn features, and her eyes blazed with hellfire. Her head snapped around, and that burning onyx gaze locked with his.

He felt her suffering straight through to the core of him, the place where his soul would reside if he had such a thing, and he staggered from the ache of it. This wasn't just what Crowley or the warlocks had done to her; this was…life as a demon. The anger and the hate and the hurt never ending.

Maya forced a ladleful of Remy's strange brew down Meg's vessel's throat, and she retched. The demon convulsed and screamed in silent torment. Cas took a drunken step toward her.

"You're killing her," he said, his voice so low and rough as to be inaudible.

"It's the only way," Maya said without looking up. "Stay out of the circle, or she will certainly die."

"You're killing her!" he said again. He reached for them, and Maya turned her head and hissed a single, scathing word. Cas flew through the air several feet to hit the stones with a jarring thud. Apparently, he thought as the twinkle lights danced above him, Remy knew a bit more about angels than he'd let on.

Flash
"You don't have to do this, Clarence. Don't let them guilt you into it. You don't owe them anything."

"I believe that I do," he said, his voice earnest and his expression troubled.

"You did some bad shit, it's true. But, come on, everyone does bad shit. It's just life. Ask Sam about the tricks he pulled when he was soulless. Or how about all the people they've killed just because they happened to be possessed? My old meatsuit! Little blond thing, cute as a button, and dead as a doornail because of those dipshits."

He held her by the shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. "Meg, I understand your concern. This is very dangerous, and you are kind to worry. I'm the only one who can identify the real Dick Roman, the one concealing the Leviathan. I have to go."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, I'm not being kind, I…!" She turned away and rubbed her forehead. Spun back around and lifted her chin to offer him a furious glare. "Fine. You go, I go."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm dead meat anyway, right? That's what Crowley said. Might as well go down swinging. You go, cloud hopper, I go. That's the deal."

He smiled a little. "'And though she be but little, she is fierce.' Very well. I suppose we have a deal."

"Good. It wasn't really a negotiation."

Flash
"Hey," Meg said to a group huddled around a newsstand, "what's going on?"

A guy turned to her, his eyes wide. "You didn't hear?"

"I've been sort of…underground."

He grinned, and those same eyes went solid black. "Probably for the best, Meg. After all, Crowley's looking for you. Though I don't know…he's got other things on his mind right now."

She let out an impatient sigh. "Uh huh. So maybe you should tell me what's going on and then let me worry about Crowley."

"I could. Or I could take you downstairs myself, since the boss man's bound to come back sometime."

She rolled her eyes heavenward in a bid for patience. It didn't work. She offered the demon a tight grin and then grabbed him around the neck and shoved him into a nearby alley. Pressed her stolen angel blade against his liver and twisted. "Listen, sweetheart, I've had enough. I don't have time for your bullshit. Tell me what I want to know, and maybe I won't skewer you. Got it?"

He swallowed and tried to break her hold. She squeezed and he yelped. "Yeah, okay, sorry. It's nothing personal."

"It never the fuck is. Now what is going on?"

"I don't know the details. Word on the street is that some angel…look, I'm just repeating what I've heard, okay?"

She made an impatient gesture.

"Right. Some angel apparently opened the door to Purgatory and sucked down a bunch of the monster souls there and now is calling himself God. He's killing people all over, like smiting left and right. I don't know. What the fuck, right? Angels. Fuck."

Stunned yet strangely unsurprised, she let him go without another word, and he smoked out. She wandered out of the alley and back into the street. Pedestrians gave her a wide berth, but she didn't notice them. The world had gone quiet, the regular noises of traffic and humanity drowned out by the roaring in her head.

"Oh, Clarence," she whispered. "You fucking moron. Now they've got no choice."

He was killing humans by the hundreds. The Winchesters would have to stop him. They would have to kill him.

She closed her eyes. Opened them again.

She would have to let them.
Flash

Cas opened his eyes and blinked up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Strange scents—herbs and incense—surrounded him, and he felt muddle-headed. It was an unfamiliar sensation, as unfamiliar as…coming to. He sat up slowly and raised a hand to his aching head.

"Ow," he muttered.

"Ah, good, you're awake," Remy said from the doorway.

"Why was I…not awake?" Cas said. His mouth was parchment dry, and his tongue felt huge and swollen. Remy offered him a mug, and Cas accepted with a grimace.

"It's just tea. It'll help with the headache, too. Maya got a bit…carried away, I'm afraid. She's young." He lifted his hands. "C'est la vie. You'll be fine. You would be much worse off if you'd interrupted the spell, and so would your demon girl."

Cas nearly dropped the mug as he bolted upright. "Where is she? Is she all right? She was in a great deal of pain."

"There's an understatement," he said with a quirk of his brows. "She's still out, but it's more peaceful now. At this point we just have to wait. Either she'll wake up…or she won't." He held up a massive paw. "I know it's not what you want to hear, but that's what it is."

"How long?"

Remy glanced at the clock. "It's almost six now. Dawn. We'll know by noon." He smiled at Cas' expression, teeth a white flash in the darkened room. "There's a cycle to these things, angel. You should know that." There was a pause. "You should get some rest. You'll need it."

"I'm an angel. I don't need rest."

He chuckled, a deep rumble. "You will." A small bag flew toward Cas, but his reflexes were still sluggish and it hit him in the forehead. "Mojo bag," Remy said. "For your problem."

"Ah." He plucked it from where it had landed and studied it with a deep frown. "What's in it?"

"You wanna know?"

He considered another moment and then tucked it into an inside pocket of his jacket. "No. Probably not."

"Good choice." Remy's face turned grave. "I warned you it was gonna hurt, Castiel. I might be a lot of things, but a liar ain't one of 'em. Remember that."

"I will. Thank you," he said in an even tone.

He shook his head. "Your sangfroid takes some gettin' used to."

Cas' mouth twisted and he looked away. "Yes. So I've been told." He looked back, deep blue eyes troubled. "Thank you, Remy. May I go sit with Meg?"

Remy made an expansive gesture. "Be my guest. She's still out in the garden. Can't bring her inside."

He finished off the tea and handed the mug back. Rose on mostly steady legs. "I'll find the way." He disappeared in a rustle of wings, and Remy just laughed.

"Show boatin' angels," he muttered.

Flash
She had been watching him for a long time. She knew when he emerged from the river, naked and dripping and reborn. She followed him at a distance, kept him safe when animals and other, less innocent, creatures might prey on his helplessness. She saw the woman approach him. Offer him her coat. Take her home with him.

And marry him, for fuck's sake. What a freak. Who marries the weird naked guy they find in the woods? Whatever.

Meg was in hiding, trying to keep one step ahead of Crowley and his goon squad, but she still kept tabs on Clarence. His new "wife" had named him Emmanuel and dragged him around the country as a traveling healer. He seemed content, happy that he was doing some good in the world. He had no memory of what he really was, and that was the only thing that kept him safe.

She wasn't there the day Dean Winchester came knocking. She should have known he'd come eventually. It was why she watched so keenly. But she'd gotten complacent. And bored, truth be told. Emmanuel and his saintly wife were fucking boring, and Meg had better things to do.

When she returned, she knew at once Cas was gone. The house reeked of sulfur, even from a distance. "Fuck," she muttered. The one day…

The wife told her everything, and she didn't even have to get snarky about it. Boring, boring, boring. She stowed her knife—still shiny and clean—and set off after them. They only had an hour's head start. The trickiest part would be persuading Dean not to kill her on sight.

Oh well. She was creative. A fast talker. She'd think of something.

Someone had to look out for that idiot cloud hopper, and she didn't really think it was gonna be the Winchesters. Not after what happened last time they met.

Flash
"You should come watch the bees with me sometime, Meg."

"Dean and Sam will be here soon. We don't have time to watch bees right now."

"There's always time for bees. That's what the bees have taught me." His face went serious. "I'm concerned about the bees, Meg. Deeply concerned."

"Yeah, I've read about that. The bees dying out. They give you a clue about what's causing it?"

He glanced toward the window, brow furrowed. "They're…agitated. In general. General bee agitation. They would just like some peace."

"Peace. Bees want peace?" she said with a skeptical lilt to her mouth.

His head came around again. "Isn't that what everyone wants? Even you."

"Ha!" Suddenly making the bed absorbed the entirety of her attention. "I'm a demon, Clarence. Demons aren't big on peace."

"You knew peace, once. I can see it. It left its mark on you. Like a handprint."

"Like a scar, you mean."

His head tilted as he considered. "Perhaps."

A silence fell as she concentrated on getting the corners perfect and tried to ignore his penetrating stare. He took a step and reached toward her bent head. "Meg—"

Her phone went off, and she'd never been more relieved to hear it. "They're here," she said. "Stay put. I'll go bring them up. No wandering off, Castiel. I mean it."

He frowned, but eventually nodded and wandered to the window. "I shall abide."

Her mouth quirked in spite of the tension still humming through her. "You do that, big guy. I'll be right back."

He glanced back over his shoulder with a distracted little smile. "Of course you will, Meg. Always."

She made a face at him, rolled her eyes at his crazy Yoda-in-the-garden act, and set off to find Tweedledum and Tweedletaller. They were gonna flip their shit, no matter how much she tried to prepare them. Who could really prepare them for this? Not her problem. As long as they didn't upset him and kept him mostly out of their bullshit, she was fine. Maybe she could even be done with this babysitting gig by this time tomorrow.

She rolled her eyes again. Who was she kidding? Clarence was right. She'd always be back for him. He'd left his handprint on her, and there was no washing that shit off.

Fucking angels.


So I really want to have this story finished by 3/20, b/c I just watched the extended preview of the next Supernatural, and, you guys, I'm so worried. Cas is all stabbin' people and punchin' Dean, and agghh! No bueno. :( I'm afraid it might kill my Muse and dump her in an alley somewhere.

Anyway. In other news, reviews get you Dean on your front porch doin' that little dance from the cast Harlem Shake video. (haven't seen it? check YouTube. So. Worth. It.)