(10/23/2017) I got a cold, the cold went away, and then everything north of me caught on fire, smoke came and made everything smoky, and the cold made a comeback. That was fun.

I'm kicking Adam to the curb. Just couldn't find a good way to get him involved. Sorry! :( At least he won't be moldering in the Cage for a gazillion years.

Thank you thedarkpokemaster, missmeow1968, demon19027, Sage of Wind Dragons, RHatch89, jkmp28, philly cheese dude, IoSolUno, and Sal the guest for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get sexy firefighters!


The first thing Buffy did (after snapping her phone shut) was to repeatedly smack Castiel on the arm. "This. Is. For. Kidnapping me!"

"I do not see how bringing you here on the request of your family is considered 'kidnapping.'"

Sam sighed and laid a hand on his sister's arm before she could make further retorts. "He's in there," he said, looking at the closed door on his right. "I'll make sure Cass brings you back right afterwards, okay?"

Buffy glared at the angel for a moment more before steeling herself for whatever might be in that room. Through the shuttered windows she could see the outlines of the myriad tubes and devices that had been hooked up to her eldest brother which meant that whatever injuries he'd sustained were more serious than usual. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob.

"Wait a second," Buffy suddenly said. She snapped around and resumed glowering at Castiel. "Aren't you all heavenly and powerful and all of that? Couldn't you just, I dunno, poke him with your fingers and make it all better?"

Her eyebrows shot up when the angel cast Sam an irritated look. Sam returned it with interest. "Yeah, Cass. Mind offering more of an explanation?"

"No," Castiel stated.

"Ugh, forget it!" Buffy grumbled as she turned the doorknob and marched into Dean's room.

It was midday but the space was dark, the curtains having ostensibly been pulled to allow the patient to sleep. Even so, Buffy could see that her brother's eyes were open and pointed at the edge of his bed staring blankly at nothing.

Dean looked terrible. Cuts and bruises were liberally strewn across his face and arms, most of them covered in bandages. The skin that was exposed had ugly black, blue, and purple hues. Everything imaginable had been hooked up to him (at least to Buffy's eyes) with at least two bags of something feeding into the IV on his hand. Wondrously, there appeared not to be any broken bones; at least there were no casts or splints.

Buffy pulled up the visitor's chair and sat down. "Dean?" Her brother shifted slightly and, as far as his tubes would allow, turned away.

"Dean," she repeated, "you know how irritating I can get if you ignore me. And since you're not going to be able to move anytime soon…"

With that threat in the air, Buffy waited. After a few minutes, Dean's chest and shoulders lifted and dropped in a heavy sigh and he turned back around. "How'd they get you here?" he asked hoarsely.

"Cass did his zapping thingy. I got to miss a quiz and everything." Her brother grunted, acknowledging the quip, but said nothing more. "What's wrong?"

"Everything. Nothin'. Nothin' you can do anything about."

"Try me," Buffy said gamely. "Go." When Dean remained silent, she added, "Wanna hear the most annoying sound in the world?"

"For fuck's sake," he muttered to himself. Then, clearer, said, "Alastair told me… told me I broke the first seal."

Still disoriented from her abrupt departure from school, Buffy wracked her brain for a moment to put that comment in context. "On Lucifer's Cage?"

"Yes."

"He's a demon. Demon's lie. You guys always told me that."

"Cass said it was true."

"Oh." Angels, so far as Buffy knew, didn't lie. At least she was fairly certain Castiel was unfamiliar with the concept; she wouldn't put anything past Uriel. "So?"

"Cass said…" Dean swallowed, choking back tears of despair. "Cass said I started it, now I gotta finish it. And I… I'm pretty sure we're all fucked."

"Why?"

Dean huffed out a few derisive chuckles. "Look at me! Do I look like someone who's gonna save the day? Have I ever been anyone's big hero?"

"You've been mine."

Taken aback, Dean stared at his sister and looked for the sarcasm, the joke. To his surprise she was in earnest, though her next words blunted the swelling panic he felt at having to meet her expectations. "I mean, sure," she said, "you drink too much, you don't shower enough, and you dress like a hobo, but, hey, you're still my big brother. We should all aspire to be a stinky, fashion-handicapped lush."

"Midget."

"Butthead."

For a few moments the pair was silent. Dean wrestled between the comfort he felt at being loved despite his failures and the misery of being forced into the role of savior. "Why me?"

"God, I ask that every day," Buffy sighed.

Dean managed a wry chuckle. "Yeah, you would, wouldn't you?"

To his slightly painful surprise, his sister then leaped out of her chair and gave him a big hug. "It'll be okay, Dean," she whispered in his ear. "I promise."

"Yeah," he replied as a few treacherous tears escaped.


Buffy suddenly realized, quite alarmingly, that she was standing in someone's corner office wearing a pencil skirt, heels, and a blouse; and Dean, a completely healthy Dean (who was dressed in a really expensive-looking button up and suspenders), was complaining, "What the hell? Why am I wearing a tie? My God, am I hungry!"

"Uh," Buffy managed. She looked down and found a multitude of printouts and manila folders strewn about her feet. "I have paper-cuts."

"Welcome back, you two!" cheered the portly, middle-aged man standing between them.

"Wait," said Dean. "Did I… Did I just get touched by… You're an angel, aren't you?"

"I'm Zachariah," the man announced with a smarmy grin.

Buffy immediately planted her fist in his face. "How dare you go messing with our heads," she snarled.

After stumbling a step, Zachariah straightened and calmly reached into an inner jacket pocket for a handkerchief. He wiped away a small cut on his lip. "Unlike my brothers," the angel said calmly, "I don't tolerate these sorts of outbursts." He snapped his fingers.

Buffy shrieked and collapsed onto the floor. She felt down her leg and found a bone protruding from her thigh.

Dean immediately rounded the desk and charged Zachariah. The angel lifted one imperious finger and brought him to a halt. "I broke her leg, not her neck. Let that sink in for a second."

Once he was certain both humans were complaisant, Zachariah's smile returned. "There! I'm glad we could all be civil. Now. Let's get back to introductions. I'm Zachariah, Castiel's superior, and after the unfortunate situation with Uriel I felt it necessary to pay a visit. Get my ducks in a row."

"So, what," Buffy said through gritted teeth, "you just monkey-suit us and make us run through some kind of stupid imaginary ghosting?"

"Not at all. Real place, real haunting. Just plunked you in the middle without the benefit of your memories."

"What for?" Dean demanded.

"To prove to the both of you that what destiny chose for you is correct. You're a hunter." The angel looked down at the floor. "You're the Slayer. Not because your dad made you, not because you were magically plucked out of the pool of Potentials, but because it's what you both are. And you love it. You'll find your way back to your paths every single time, and you're miserable without it. Dean, Buffy, let's be real here." His gaze turned triumphant. "You're good at this. You'll be successful. You will both stop it."

"Both?" Buffy asked incredulously.

"Of course!" Zachariah spread his arms. "You'll go out there and save people, maybe even the world. All the while you'll go to school, make kissy faces with your vampire while your brother drives a classic car and fornicates with women. You're not cursed. You're gifted."

Dean's face twisted in rage. "What kind of stupid —"

"For God's sakes, Dean," Zachariah snapped, "quit whining about it. For that matter, you—" he said as he pointed at Buffy, "—need to accept your calling. Look around. There are plenty of fates worse than either of yours. So are you with me? You wanna go steam yourself another latte?" He turned to Buffy. "Go copy some more reports? Or are the two of you ready to stand up and be who you really are?"

Neither sibling answered. Zachariah stuck his hands in his pockets and gave a deep sigh. "I can see both of you are going to be quite the project. That's okay. I'm always up for a challenge." He snapped his fingers again…


All three siblings stared at one another from across the dining table at 1630 Revello Drive. "Weren't we just in Wyoming?" asked a bewildered Sam. "At a hospital?"

"You don't remember?" Dean wondered.

"Remember what?"

"You rocking the yellow collared shirt?" Buffy asked. "And being, like, a total dork?"

"Uh… no. Yellow shirt?" Sam repeated confusedly.

Dean and Buffy related the previous few days' events including Dean's occupation in upper management, Buffy's role as an intern and secretary, and Sam's as a tech support cubicle jockey. Their brother listened, flabbergasted, to how a haunting had led to their reunion, albeit as coworkers and not siblings, and how yet another angel, Zachariah, was responsible for the misadventure.

"Great," Sam groused at the conclusion of their tale. "Another douchebag with wings."

"He's also Castiel's superior," Dean added. "So I got no idea what that means."

"It means," said a voice that immediately followed the flapping of his wings, "that you need to be very careful around him."

The trio of humans jumped but recovered quickly; they were grudgingly beginning to get used to Castiel's sudden, unannounced appearances. "Maybe one day he'll ring the doorbell," Buffy grumbled to her brothers.

"What're you talking about, Cass?" asked Sam.

"If I am captain of our garrison," explained the angel, "then I suppose you could call him a corporal."

"And?"

"Should he order me to kill you, I must do it."

The room went silent. Buffy preemptively clenched her fists. "Is that why you're here?" she growled.

"No." Castiel had the temerity to look somewhat offended by the accusation. "I came to warn you. Uriel is dead. He was the one who was killing the angels."

"What?" gaped Sam. "Why?"

"It seems some of my brothers and sisters have decided that it is in our best interests if Lucifer were freed. They may attempt to prevent you from stopping Lilith."

"Oh, what the hell, man?" Dean exclaimed, astonished. "Like we don't got enough on our plate as it is!"

"What are we supposed to do if they come?" Buffy asked irritably. "Pray really, really hard that they don't just beat the crap out of us?"

"No," Castiel countered, "pray to me. I will come."

Mollified by the prospect of having a literal angel at her beck and call, Buffy grinned. "Neat."

Castiel gave her a withering look. "Do not abuse the privilege," he warned. A rush of wings later and he was gone.

Buffy drew breath to try to test their newfound calling ability. She nearly choked on it when Sam snapped, "Don't."

"Buzzkill."

Dean had drifted to the dining room window. He let out a sigh of relief upon seeing the Impala resting in the driveway. "Well, at least Zachariah was decent enough to bring my baby all the way over here. Doesn't make him any less of a dick."

"What now?" Sam wondered.

"Your mom home?" Dean asked his sister.

Buffy pulled her phone out of her pocket. "What the—it's still that Friday! Weren't we corporate slaves for, like, four days?"

"Frigging angels."

"And, no, mom was heading to New York last— this morning for work. So she's not back until next Tuesday."

Buffy's brothers glanced at one another. "Mind if we stay for a few days?" Sam asked.

"Eh, why not. Long as you're springing for food."

"Burgers and pizza it is," Dean announced happily.

"Ugh," Buffy grumbled. "There goes my waistline."

"Lost cause. Ow! Frigging midget!"

"Butthead."


Monday arrived and brought with it a multitude of early acceptance letters for Willow from a host of Ivy League colleges, including Sam's alma mater, Stanford. He did his best to smile and congratulate the young girl, but his heart wrenched in jealousy of her prospects. Seeing that the far taller man's expression didn't quite reach his eyes, Oz carefully stacked his girlfriend's envelopes and put them away. He then suggested that they maybe take their celebration from the confines of the school to the sugary-caffeinated haven of the closest Starbucks.

Buffy and her brothers, however, declined. They'd made an appointment to confer with Giles regarding angelic hierarchy. Bobby had come up with nothing, but the siblings hoped that the ex-Watcher's extensive collection of obscure tomes might have, at the very least, some information on Zachariah.

Sam was the first one to notice that Giles wasn't alone in the library (Dean had gleefully flipped Buffy's well-maintained locks on their walk over and the two were engaged in a mock slap fight). He came to an abrupt stop, interrupting Dean's concentration and causing the eldest of them to receive an actual full-contact smack.

"Oops!" Buffy exclaimed.

Dean angrily rubbed the side of his jaw and glared at Sam. "The fuck you—oh," he said as he noticed the prim and proper young gentleman standing next to Giles. "What the hell is that?"

"Dunno," Sam replied as the newcomer began looking indignant. "New Watcher?"

"New Watcher," confirmed an exasperated Giles.

From the moment they'd met the elder man the Winchesters had felt comfortable relying on his expertise. They had even grown to admire his steadfast bravery in the face of increasingly harrowing circumstances. Not only that, Giles was affable, and deeply sympathetic to the tragedies surrounding his Slayer and her family. The new Watcher, however, looked younger than Sam and carried himself in a haughty manner that immediately grated on Dean's nerves.

Meeting an overprivileged intellectual was nothing new to Sam; enough had attended Stanford that he was familiar with their mannerisms. Therefore when the man stuck his hand out and announced, "Wesley Wyndham-Pryce," Sam generously returned the gesture.

"Sam Winchester," he replied.

"Yes, of course," Wesley said with a nod. "Which would make this other gentleman, Dean."

The hand was extended again in the eldest brother's direction. Dean ignored it and shouldered passed the new Watcher with purposeful rudeness. "Jeeves," the hunter said to Giles, "you got anything on an angel named Zachariah?"

"Zachariah?" repeated the librarian. "Isn't that the name of a prophet?"

While Dean spun out the sordid tale of their days shackled to a corporation, Sam apologized to Wesley. "I'm sorry. He's just… Well…" He glanced helplessly at his sister.

Unfortunately Buffy had her arms crossed in a forbidding manner. She narrowed her eyes. "Are you evil?"

"Evil?" Wesley parroted, confused.

"The last one was evil."

"Oh, yes. Gwendolyn Post. We all heard." The Watcher have a lugubrious sigh. "No, Mr. Giles has checked my credentials rather thoroughly and phoned the Council, but I'm glad to see you're on the ball as well. A good Slayer is a cautious Slayer," he added pedantically.

"You think he's evil?" Buffy asked Sam.

"Probably not."

"You sure?"

"Got holy water in the car if you're that worried ."

"That won't be necessary, thank you," Wesley said with barely concealed exasperation. "As I'm sure none of us is anxious to waste any time on pleasantries, why don't you tell me everything about last night's patrol?"

"Didn't go," Buffy stated.

The young man's eyebrows drew together. "Care to explain why not?"

"His fault," said the Slayer as she stuck a thumb out at her younger brother's direction.

Sam exclaimed, "Hey!" as Wesley plowed into a lecture regarding her negligence and the possible consequences of a night on the Hellmouth without its guardian acting as a safeguard from the minions of Hell. Buffy's eyes glazed over, and even Sam's attention started to wander, as the speech veered into repetitiveness and unwarranted scolding.

Fortunately for them, the library doors banged open. Wesley cut off his sentence and adjusted his spectacles. "This is perhaps Faith?" he wondered.

The dark-haired Slayer ignored the query. "New Watcher?" she asked the rest of the group.

Buffy, her brothers, and her former Watcher all repeated, "New Watcher."

"Screw that," Faith scoffed before turning on her heel and leaving the same way she arrived.

The remaining Slayer lifted her arms and let them drop as she walked over to Giles and Dean. "Now why didn't I just say that?"

With a pitying look over at the indignant newcomer, Giles gently said to his former protege, "Buffy, would you…?"

The teenaged girl sighed. "I'll see if I can get her back. Don't say anything terribly interesting while I'm gone!" she called as she hustled after her counterpart.

"They'll get used to me," Wesley said definitively.

"Fat chance," Dean muttered.

Wesley harrumphed. "I'll have you know that I was handpicked by none other than Mr. Travers himself, and—"

"Wait, Travers?" Dean stepped up to the Watcher. They were of a height, but he still managed to loom threateningly. "That shithead that was here for Buffy's birthday?"

The younger man attempted to mimic the hunter's hostile stance and fell far short. "The head of the Watcher's Council, yes. A man of immense authority and knowledge."

"And we're supposed to trust our baby sister to some uptight kid that takes his orders from someone that nearly got her freaking *killed?*"

"I'll have you know that the Cruciatum is a time honored ritual of great importance that dates back centuries and has been a vital part of a Slayer's training under the Council!"

"Oh, bullshit," Dean snarled. "You're just a bunch of pansy-ass dicks that get a hard-on from bossing around a little girl!"

"Dean," Sam cautioned as Giles mumbled, "Sounds about right."

Wesley's spine stiffened. "We have been the authoritative figure around the Slayer since before the Middle Ages. And I believe we are far more qualified to watch over her than some bumbling idiot who thinks it's a good idea to make a crossroads deal for a single year. Tell me, how exactly were you protecting your little sister by being condemned to Hell?"

Dean frowned and stepped back. Wesley's chin rose, certain that he'd come out the dignified victor from their harsh repartee. It only gave the hunter a clearer target for his fist.

Giles sighed as the young Watcher's head snapped to one side. The young man then collapsed into a boneless heap. "Can't say that wasn't well deserved," said the librarian.

Dean cocked an eyebrow at his brother. Sam lifted his hands. "Not gonna say a thing. I was just trying to be nice to the guy."

"So!" Giles said. "Zachariah?"

"Yeah," Dean confirmed.

"Well, let's see what we can find."

"What about…?" Sam wondered as he gestured at Wesley's prone form.

"He looks quite comfortable where he's at."

Neither brother objected to the sentiment.


Acknowledgement : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episodes "It's a Terrible Life" (SPN 4.17) and "Bad Girls" (BtVS 3.14).

Author's Note : The name Zachariah shows up as a prophet who apparently fathered John; John of the "I Wrote the Bible" fame.