Faster update this time! Also I know I'm kind of building this story in a way that there seems to be more questions as it goes along, but I assure you all of them will be answered. Well, most of them. Somewhat. Yeah, I'm not inspiring confidence at the moment, so I'll just say thanks for the reviews, and here's chapter twenty-eight!


Chapter 28

In which Shawn sticks his neck out far enough to catch a glimpse of true evil

The letter said for Dean to come alone. This had of course prompted warnings from Castiel not to play into Zachariah's hands, remarks from Gus about Sam's wellbeing, utter indifference from Azrael, and observations from Shawn that Woody would have come up with a more original letter of demand, making him decide that he liked the angel inhabiting his friend even less. Dean, of course, had no qualms running off to save Sam, and it was all Shawn and Gus could do to keep him from leaving without formulating a plan.

And so at 20.30 hours (which Gus had to explain to Shawn stood for eight-thirty pm) found Shawn standing in front of an old warehouse close to Goleta Pier, Dean beside him. The building was covered in angel wards, apparently as security against either of their angelic buddies. Shawn, feeling unusually jittery, fingered the magic coin in his pocket that Azrael had given him and tried to calm himself.

Dean asked, "How sure are you that this is going to work?"

"About as sure as I am that 'chaos is what killed the dinosaurs, darling'(i)."

Dean gave him a weird look.

"Really, man? You never saw Heathers? What were you doing in the late eighties?"

"Learning how to make my first sawed off. Speaking of which, take care of the one that you swiped from me, would you? It's one of my favorites."

"Wow, and I thought my childhood was fucked," Shawn said, and then he started for the entrance.

"Hey Shawn."

Shawn looked back. "Yeah?"

"That's my little brother in there," Dean said seriously.

Shawn nodded. "I know, man. Trust me."

Dean was just appreciating the irony of that statement coming from a fake psychic detective when Shawn disappeared into the building.

Inside the warehouse was nothing special. There were some empty crates, abandoned and no doubt no longer functioning machinery, and the high ceilings were almost lost in the gloom of the evening. Before Shawn's eyes could get used to the darkness, the lights went on, causing him to blink and let out a groan. When he opened his eyes again he saw Zachariah in the middle of the floor space. Beside him Sam was seated, bound to a chair, and apparently still quite unconscious.

"Hey, Zach, what's up?" Shawn greeted.

"Why would you do this, Shawn?" Zachariah asked, looking unsurprised to see him but slightly annoyed nonetheless. "Why stick your neck out like this for two guys you literally met a few hours ago?"

"You know, Woody would know the answer to that question," Shawn said. "Is he in there, by the way? Because I need to tell him that I kind of, uh, borrowed his rib shears for, uh, research. Important research. Involving… pineapples."

"Shawn, this is not a smart move," Zachariah chastised him. "I am not someone you want to anger. And after I went out of my way to be nice and warn you about the repercussions of being a vessel, as well as sparing your good friend Burton. This is your last warning. This does not concern you. Walk away now and you'll live to turn down the Metatron another day."

"You would really kill me?"

"If it came to it."

"Yeah… I don't think you would," Shawn said, shaking his head and beginning to walk around. "Because let's think about this for a minute. You killing me would piss off Metatron, and I can't imagine that Azzie would be happy about it either. That's two superiors you'd have on your ass – and don't give me crap about the Voice being a relic and Azzie being out of her jurisdiction, because you and I both know that matters jack squat to either of them."

Shawn gestured to his hostage. "And Sam, well, you're not going to kill Sam either. Sure, he's the vessel to freakin' Lucifer, for Google's sake, and sure, you probably REALLY want him dead. Still, if you kill him, Lucifer won't be your only problem. There is Dean.

"Dean, you say? What would you have to worry about some glorified ape in a leather jacket, you ask? You know the answer to that – losing Sam means losing your leverage. Without Sam, Dean has no reason left to flash Michael the go signal. So that's big brother Mike all cheesed off as well." Shawn spread his arms and said, "So, have we covered all the bases? You've got no leverage, Zacky. You might as well release Sam to me right here, right now."

Zachariah rubbed his chin. "You're right, I don't have a lot of options. Still, I could do this."

He turned and intercepted Dean right before the older Winchester could finish making the angel banishing sigil on the floor where he had crept up as close as he dared while Shawn distracted the angel. Shawn watched as Dean was blasted off his feet and slammed right into the side of a metal container.

"Did you two really think I would fall for the obvious bait and switch, boys?" Zachariah mocked.

Shawn ran for Sam, but was similarly blown off his feet and collided into a crate. "You know what I find most perplexing about you humans?" Zachariah said almost conversationally as he went over to Sam. "Your arrogance. You have nothing to be arrogant about. You are the most flawed, sinful, functionally retarded creations of our Father, and yet you all walk the earth like you're the shit. I don't get it."

He snapped his fingers and Sam's eyes fluttered open. The younger Winchester was just getting his bearings when Zachariah yanked the gag off. "Dean!" Sam exclaimed, seeing his brother, shakily getting to his feet.

"Shawn is completely correct in that your brother here, Dean, is my leverage against you," Zachariah said, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder. "And yes, I can't kill the rather large abomination. Still, there are a variety of things I CAN do that are just short of killing him."

"You bastard, don't you lay a fucking finger—" that was as far as Dean got before he was slammed back against the metal container, only this time he remained pressed up to it, trapped.

"For instance, I can do this," Zachariah said, and a splash of blood appeared on Sam's chest, causing him to hiss out in pain.

Dean growled, "Let him go, you son of a bitch, or I swear—"

Another bright spray of blood crossed Sam's torso and this time he let out a cry. "You can stop it any time, Dean," Zachariah said. "All you have to do is say that marvelous, three-letter word."

By the crate he had knocked his head against, Shawn put a hand to the base of his skull and found that he was bleeding. He looked at what was happening, and then his eyes wandered over to where the angel banishing sigil was. Seeing as Zachariah was currently distracted by the brothers, he slowly started to crawl towards it, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head.

Sam coughed out blood. As he gasped in a lungful of air, he said, "Zachariah, stop it…"

"Why Sammy?" Zachariah asked with mock concern. "Kid, seriously, you can't have had enough yet. Even your brother here resisted for thirty years before he gave Alistair the thumbs up and took a knife in hand." He turned briefly back to Dean. "Great job with that, by the way."

"It's not that, you conceited fucktard," Sam spat at him. "It's about that last cut – I think you cracked a rib."

Before Zachariah could ask what he was talking about, there was an ominous rumble and the foundation of the building began to shake ever so slightly. "What the…?" Zachariah trailed off when he realized what was happening.

"Nice going, assclown," Dean said through gritted teeth. "You just called the Morningstar down on us(ii)."

Zachariah was about to say something back when all of a sudden he let out a yell and vanished in a flash of light. Dean was freed and collapsed to the ground, and Sam looked to where Shawn had pressed a bloody palm to the center of the angel banishing sigil on the floor. "That was the longest six feet in the history of man," Shawn groaned, referring to his journey from the crate to the sigil.

"We have to get out of here," Dean said, having already made his way to his brother and starting to cut him free.

Shawn nodded and got to his feet, even as the rumbling got louder and the ground quaked more violently. He took the sawed off he had and shot a hole through one of the windows, effectively breaking the angel wards.

At once Castiel appeared, looking frantic. "We have to go," he said tersely, and he pressed two fingers to each of Shawn's and Dean's foreheads, the latter with Sam's bloody form practically draped over him.

Right before they were whisked out, Shawn had a quick glance of a brilliant light and part of a face that had the coldest pair of deep set blue eyes he had ever seen. And then Castiel had them all airborne and the warehouse was left in the dust.

Continued


i This is the closest I can get to making an eighties reference; I've seen The Breakfast Club and I know who Cyndi Lauper is, but that is the extent of my knowledge of that particular decade.

ii I forget the exact rationale behind this, but as implied by Sam in Ep05.19 'Hammer of the Gods', hurting him would bring Lucifer running. I think it might have something to do with that connection referred to in the show between an angel and its unoccupied vessel. Fortunately, as pointed out by Schizophrenic Dreamer, this would be because Zachariah succeeded in damaging the carvings in Sam's ribs, so this part has been changed slightly to correct this. Thanks so much for that!