Just to be clear: I have nothing against Jeffrey Dean Morgan's John, but because of reasons, I chose Matt Cohen and a younger -looking John Winchester ( yeah, right; because of "reasons" - more like while both are terribly good-looking, JDM is a bit too old for me to fantasm about - again, yaeh right, but I will admit nothing ). Only, consider that John is JDM's height, and not Matt Cohen's - because reasons, again, and why do we care whether it's important or not?

Chapter 14: So Gabriel intervened

John eyed Bobby's shotgun with distaste – because it didn't do any lasting damage didn't mean it had been pleasant to be shot.

"Alright, Bobby, alright... But could we just, I don't know, sit down or something?"

Not that he absolutely needed to sit down or anything, but John wasn't feeling comfortable explaining the Life and Errors of Michael, Archangel of the Lord, right here on the doorstep. The hunter seemed to understand that, and a meaningful motion of his shotgun later, Dean, Gabriel, John and Bobby were inside, and the door was closed.

They weren't sitting, though.

And Bobby didn't look like he'd agree to much more.

"Spill."

"Well that's very difficult, considering we don't have anything liquid in handy, but worry not, dear hunter, I will do my best and summon some milkshakes! It all started when..."

"Shut up Gabriel."

John and Dean shared a look as they had talked in sync, blatantly ignoring Gabriel's fake hurt look.

"It's my story to tell, if you let me..."

John turned to his son and his – former – friend, once assured that his brother wouldn't start babbling again – or, at least, that Gabriel still knew how to be serious enough and let him handle this, as long as his intervention wasn't warranted. What'd count as "warranted" to the younger archangel was yet another question, which John wasn't planning to address anytime soon – even if Gabriel's erratic behavior would probably force him to soon enough.

He hesitated for a second – no, but seriously, how did you explain that, of all things? – but eventually decided there was no time like the present. Besides, he needed to keep it short, because whatever had been planned to get Lucifer out of the box? It'd happen soon.

"I... could go with 'it's complicated'; to make it short, when an angel lose their grace, they..."

"They become human, we know. That's what happened to Anna."

Dean was frowning, probably searching the reason John was talking about that, and at the same time remembering Anna's death... His father, him, was surprised enough.

"You've met Anna?"

Bobby was the one to answer, cutting it short... while Gabriel winced badly behind John's back. Right. That was an issue he needed to take care of, preferably before Michael heard about it from someone else. Preferably once they'd have delt with Lucifer's ambitions to get out of the Cage, too. Michael didn't need more distractions.

"We did. What does it have to do with you, and how you're alive, John?"

The taller guy in the bunch – Gabriel'd feel insulted, if, you know, he had any inhibitions left – shrugged awkwardly, and his brother had a hard time not making a derogatory comment or another.

"That's what happened to me."

Correction, Gabriel needed to intervene, it seemed. Not that Michael wasn't being clear enough – he could have been clearer, but it wasn't that bad – or that the two hunters were being daft – even if the youngest archangel liked to pretend they were stupid, they really weren't – but the point Michael was trying to make was so far-stretched, so unlikely that even if the two humans could, logically, reach the right conclusion, it was unlikely that they'd believe it.

So Gabriel intervened.

"What he means, fellows, is that John Winchester truly isn't only John Winchester. He lost his grace like a moron and was reborn as a human, but when his soul escaped from Hell, he didn't go straight to Heaven. Instead, he wandered around, and stumbled upon his grace. It took some time to get him alright in the head again, but with yours truly's help, he managed. In other words, Dean-o, your daddy's all new and shiny."

Ah, damn. He hadn't been able to refrain that last one. Oh well.

Dean blinked at Gabriel – or, you know, at the Trickster, because the hunters still didn't know who he really was, and now that he thought about it, it had to be confusing, like, why is there a pagan god with a newly resurrected John Winchester? The young man was having a hard time processing what he had just been told, which was kind of expected.

Dean closed his eyes, counted up to ten, opened them again, and nope, Dad was still here, looking all young and uneasy, and more than that, the Trickster was still here, looking both incredibly smug and disturbingly understanding – which, really, shouldn't happen, if only because being proud of having confused the hell out of someone wasn't supposed to work with sympathy.

Still, Dean had to check, just in case he was having persistent hallucinations.

He reached out, and poked – manly so, of course – his father in the arm. The pagan god burst out laughing; Bobby rolled his eyes; as for John, he simply gave his son a confused look.

"You're really real... Wait, does that mean you're really a douchebag?!"

John almost looked hurt at the comment, but finally decided that a wry smile would do well enough.

"I thought you and your brother had already agreed on that?"

Dean blinked, unsure of how exactly his father could know about that particular conversation from years ago – yeah, that one time Dad had, again, refused to let him come to hunt because he was too young, and Dean had pouted the whole evening, giving in to Sam's merciless criticism of all of John Winchester's flaws. He had been pretty sure they had been discreet, whispering under the blanket... Alright, that was enough to explain everything; let's not talk about it ever again.

But now that it had been said... Dean could as well go all the way.

"Well yeah, but I hadn't realized you were one of the feathered douchebags."

Bobby whacked him lightly on the head.

"Dean, no time for that."

"What? I've met Uriel and Zachariah. They're douchebags. Castiel's the only one who is kind of alright, and since he's got 'corrected' by Zachiarah, he's been back to being completely obedient and all that... He didn't look right, about that, I really need to ask him what happened..."

Dean drifted off as he said that, but both Gabriel and John tensed at the mention of the young angel's "correction". They could only hope it wasn't what they were thinking of... Because if it was, there was no telling in which state exactly the kid was. Corrections weren't supposed to happen unless absolutely necessary; at that point, it wasn't even discipline anymore. It was only used when an angel actually betrayed the Host, when there was no other hope of talking them out of whatever they had started to believe.

Bobby, however, wasn't done, and he felt there wasn't enough time left to wonder about whether or not angels were inherently douchebags. He wanted answers, and whatever John and his pet pagan god wanted, he'd make sure he knew enough before doing anything.

"Focus, Dean. Now, you just told us you're an angel, John, and while I can work with that, what the hell are you doing with that trickster if that's the case?!"

John arched both eyebrows at his little brother, who might have started hiding behind him again for a reason or another, and pushed Gabriel back on the center of the stage.

"Exactly, Loki; what am I doing hanging out with you?"

The youngest archangel gave him a sour look, snapped a snack into existence, and bit into it vindictively. Only once he was done with it – and he took his time, believe me – did he answer the question, truthfully at that.

"Did I forget to mention I'm not a pagan god?"

Bobby didn't look particularly convinced, and Dean's fingers ached for a stake. What? He had been killed over a hundred times by the Trickster! Any occasion for revenge was welcome.

Gabriel tried again.

"No, really. I'm in my own, self-made Witsec. Special archangel on the run. And while I'm at it, in the sensational news of the week, did your dad mention he's not just an angel? I thought not. Well, hello there: I'm Gabriel, fourth archangel, and John also goes by Michael, first archangel. So nice to meet you. Do I get a lollipop for good behavior?"

And, just to be sure the two humans really got it, Gabriel started a little show of lights and shadows. The room darkened to the point it seemed that night had fallen, two large wings of golden light flickered between planes for a second, the archangel's eyes glowered bright, and everyone was perfectly convinced. There. Job done.

"Wait wait wait wait, John's the big boss upstairs? Why are we even in this situation, then?"

Or maybe not. Ugh. Gabriel didn't like doing explanations. He was much better at popping up unannounced, delivering cryptic messages, and leaving before anyone could ask anything – which had, admittedly, resulted in some rather interesting interpretations of the Word of God. Gabriel denied any responsibility, obviously.

Fortunately, Michael must have thought his little brother had contributed enough for today.

"Bobby, think about it: while I was here, living as John, I wasn't in Heaven. Raphael's the one leading the show, right now. And before all this... before I became human, I made some decisions that I... regret. I didn't understand, then, and more than that, I was... desperate, I guess, for my Father to come home. By any means. I made choices I shouldn't have, which started the whole Apocalypse Run. I didn't really have anything to hold onto, unlike now. My... family... wasn't whole, and those who were here weren't who they used to be. I..."

Gabriel saw the frowns etching themselves harder and harder on Dean's and Bobby Singer's faces, and decided it might not be the right time to explain that Heaven had been plotting the Apocalypse just as much as Hell had.

So he interrupted. He had a feeling he was doing that a lot, lately.

"The point being, Michael isn't in charge anymore, and even if he went back upstairs and tried to sort everything out, it probably wouldn't go over well, because they'd think he might be corrupted by humanity. And even if they decide he isn't, it would be too late by then. So sorry, but we're on our own here; just you two yahoos, Johnny-Mickey over there, and Little Old Me. Which, admittedly, makes a rather terryifing team, considering you have two archangels out of four on your side, but still. We're powerful, yet we can't be everywhere at the same time, and there's no way in Hell, Heaven and Purgatory, that I'm going to just slaughter all of our enemies on my own."

Especially not as most of them weren't actually enemies... just, misguided. Gabriel wasn't going to murder his brothers and sisters if he could help it, and he knew that Michael would try to handle, at least that side of the battle, peacefully – except if someone tried to go after Sam and Dean, obviously. They guy didn't get nearly enough credit, when it came to defending his kids.

Convincing Raphael not to destroy the world, though, that was going to be a challenge.

And of course, Lucifer being Lucifer, the other side of the battle would for sure get bloody. It didn't make Gabriel happy, but he couldn't just let his brother get away with everything and not fight back.

It was Dean, surprisingly, who asked the sensible question – Bobby was still considering whether or not he should just shoot at the two archangels, to let off some steam if nothing else.

The young man took a tentative step towards his father, edged back a bit at the odd feeling of his newly-young-again-and-totally-indestructible dad being here, and spoke:

"So... What are we doing now?"

Gabriel grinned dangerously, and clapped his hands together.

"Excellent question! I suggest taking care of Sammy before he goes all demonic on us. So, Dean-o, where is your brother?"

Dean grimaced a bit.

"Downstairs, in the cell. He's been... drinking demon blood, with the certainty that it'll make him strong enough to off Lilith. That's pure nonsense, of course, but he's so sure of himself... Anyway, Sam's in demon blood withdrawal right now."

At that moment, John didn't regret having killed Azazel – not that he ever regretted it, but, right now, he regretted having done it even less. He turned his attention to the cell Bobby had built not so long ago – he certainly didn't remember it being there before – in search of Sam's presence, a bit surprised, though, that he hadn't caught on before that. Unless something was masking them, angels could sense a human being's presence in their vicinity. John should have noticed Sam before, more so if he was contaminated with that much demon blood...

"Bobby..."

"Yeah?"

"Did you mask your cell to angel perception?"

"No, why?"

"Because Sam's not downstairs."