(11/7/2017) I think I need to commit to one update a month rather than once a week like I did before. I straight up do not have the extra brainpower after dealing with hordes of small children three days a week (and a highly energetic one 24/7). Oh, and our new puppy. I'm besieged by small creatures.

Thank you willdawg992003, thedarkpokemaster, demon19027, Timelord2162, RHatch89, Sage of Wind Dragons, philly cheese dude, and IoSolUnofor the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get puppies!

Oh, and NakedFury? …Thanks?


As usual, they ended up at a dead end where it concerned the angels. Apparently the stories of Zachariah's presence on Earth had been transfigured over the years. Where they knew there was a high ranking angel, scripture had a childless prophet who was granted a son in exchange for his piety. Something had gone far, far off the mark over the centuries.

The siblings thought they might actually have a quiet, non-extraordinarily hazardous stay together. After all, Zachariah appeared to hold both Dean and Buffy in high regard. It was unlikely that he would allow harm to come to either, at least not purposely, and with Alastair dead there was one less demon to worry about.

It all began feeling relatively normal, however, when Sam discovered a job in town.


Joyce flew back in Tuesday morning. Despite the horrific traffic, Dean generously picked her up from Los Angeles International Airport While Sam sprung for Chinese takeout. The unconventional little family then shared fried rice, chow mein, and a variety of exotically flavored meats.

Buffy's mother was slightly perturbed, however, by Sam's choice to focus more on his laptop than on their get together. "Really, Sam," Joyce chided. "Must you?"

"Sorry," he said, somewhat apologetically and somewhat absentmindedly. "I thought I saw a case right before I got the food and I can't remember what it was."

Dean gave a derisive snort. "We're on the Hellmouth, Sammy. Probably a couple'a vamps having a midnight snack over by The Bronze."

"No, it was something more… weird."

"That's our town," Buffy quipped. "Weirdness is soaked into the dirt. And fortune cookie, gimme!"

"Didn't say the magic word," mocked Dean as he held the wrapped sweet just out of her reach.

"Now."

As her daughter and pseudo-stepson squabbled over the confections, Joyce noticed that Sam had stopped typing and was looking assiduously at his screen. "Find it?"

"Yes." The young man swiveled his computer around so Joyce could read.

"'Spontaneous Combustion in Nursing Home.' Well that's certainly unusual."

"Old people exploding?" Dean asked through a mouthful of cookie. "Sounds fun."

Buffy was peering at the tiny writing on her fortune. "'You will meet exotic new people.' Pfff. I've got all the exotic new people I could ever handle what with angels and demons and whoever's making with the charbroiled grandparents."

"'George Levinson, 72, was discovered early Monday morning at the Sunnyhill Retirement Home,'" read Sam. "'Caretakers were alerted to what they assumed had been a fire emergency only to find Levinson had been set alight in his bed by persons unknown. Investigators have reported no signs of accelerant and are continuing to process the scene.'" He closed the computer. "Witch?"

"Sounds like it," affirmed Dean.

"Or… Or it could be something else," Buffy offered, irked that Willow was still insisting that the Slayer not reveal to her brothers how deeply she was delving into the mystic arts. "Maybe a fire breathing chicken."

Sam peered at her, incredulous. "Seriously? That's what you come up with?"

"Tell me that isn't the weirdest thing you've ever heard of."

"Wishing well, dude," Dean told his brother. "The Trickster and his bullshit. That damn rabbit's foot."

"Fine, whatever," Sam conceded. He stood up from the table. "Tomorrow morning?"

"Sounds good to me."


Buffy begged to accompany her brothers but Joyce was adamant that she not miss any more school than she already had. With her senior year coming to a rapid close, Buffy's mother held out hope that, despite all the nonsense with Heaven and Hell, her daughter might someday go to a college worth bragging about. As the Slayer had doubts as to whether or not she'd live long enough to get a Bachelor's of Anything (a thought she would never express in front of her mother), the order sent her off in the morning in a dour mood.

Her brothers had stayed the night at Angel's, their de facto home whenever they visited Sunnydale. Impeccably dressed in cheap suits and armed with FBI identifications, the pair spent the morning first introducing themselves to the lead detective, then questioning residents at Sunnyhill Retirement Home. They discovered two important details from the elderly men and women: that Levinson had been a sadistic, manipulative degenerate, and that he had recently been accused of sexually assaulting an aide.

They questioned the victim's victim, Maria Sanchez, a Spanish speaking woman whose slight frame and cowering demeanor made the possibility that her story of being overpowered by the spry septuagenarian was not the elaborate fabrication touted by her bosses. She wept piteously when confronted, but neither Sam or Dean found reason to suspect she'd used supernatural methods to get her revenge.

"Well that sucked," Dean grumbled. "No hex bags, no sulfur; just a lady tryin' to do her job."

"Poor woman," Sam said sympathetically.

"Yeah," agreed Dean as his brother's phone rang. "Makes me wanna burn the old asshole all over again."

"Agent Ward," Sam greeted. After a few moments, he stated, "We'll be there," before hanging up his call. "Got another fire victim. Kid at Buffy's school."

"How the hell does that make any sense?"

"Dunno. Guess we'll have to go find out."


To their relief, Snyder was away at a conference and the new Vice Principal (the former having become lunch to one of the Hellmouth's plethora of vampires) had no idea who either Sam or Dean was. They flashed their badges at the authorities, pretended not to know their sister and her friends, and headed into the locker room to examine the body.

"Damndest thing," a baffled Detective Bullocks told the pair. "Greg Bautista, senior. Just got off of basketball practice, then while he was inthe shower he apparently burst into flames."

Sam gingerly lifted the blanket covering the dead boy. "Maybe an accelerant of some kind?"

"No sign of any and not a single other kid got so much as a singed hair."

"Got any suspects?" asked Dean as Sam backed away from the corpse.

"Well…" The detective trailed off, uncomfortable. He let out a sigh. "I don't like to speak ill of the dead, but apparently this kid was one of those cruel 'mean girls' type, except being a guy. Popular and pretty damn cruel to the kids he didn't think were worth two shits."

"Like?"

Bullocks flipped through his notebook. "Other day a boy, Jonathan Levinson, accidentally knocked Bautista's books out of his hands. Got his face smashed into a locker."

Dean winced, remembering how it felt when he'd had the same injury inflicted by Angelus. "Ouch."

"Wait a minute," Sam said, astounded. "Levinson?"

"Yeah," affirmed the detective. "Grandpa was the one that got toasted yesterday."


By the time the brothers had completed their investigation, school had been let out. They surreptitiously changed out of their FBI guises and joined their sister in the library. To their consternation, Wesley was still in attendance. Dean smugly noted the bruise blossoming spectacularly on the Watcher's jaw.

"Might I inquire as to your purpose here?" Wesley asked haughtily.

Dean ignored him and addressed Giles. "Got two cases of combustion man."

"Isolated incidents?" the ex-Watcher wondered.

"We thought so at first," Sam explained as Wesley sputtered indignantly, "but the same family's involved. First guy was George Levinson, second guy was Greg Bautista."

"And they're related how?"

"They're not, but Greg apparently bullied a kid named Jonathan Levinson a few days ago. Slammed him into a locker and broke his nose. Jonathan is George's grandson."

"Wait," Buffy inserted. "Jonathan?"

"You know him?" asked Sam.

"Yeah. Sorta. Short kid, kinda one of the local school punching bags."

"Sounds like motivation to me," Dean inferred.

"Maybe. Didn't think he was the type to go burning man on people though."

"Plus," said Sam, "we still don't know how it's happening."

"Want me to go punchy-punchy on him?"

"If you please!" Wesley called loudly. The siblings finally deigned to take notice of the Watcher. "I believe that the Slayer has duties of her own to take care of. Patrolling, as is required?"

To his great annoyance, all three siblings looked at Giles for confirmation. "You may as well," said the older gentleman. "Until the source of the immolation has been discovered there's nothing else you can do."

"I guess." Buffy headed for the swinging doors. "I'll get Faith and we'll do our nightly slayage." She waved casually back to her brothers. "Bye!"

Wesley turned to Giles. "Might I remind you that I am now the resident Watcher, not you? You are doing very little to help facilitate this change!"

Dean rolled his eyes at the young man's tone. He attempted to shift their focus. "You think the two of you could do some research for us? See if there's a monster that could do this sort of thing?"

"Certainly," Giles said at the same time that Wesley proclaimed, "Absolutely not."

"Dude," Sam snapped at the younger man, "why the hell not?"

The Watcher gazed up at him sternly. "Mr. Giles may have forgotten, but the Council has yet to rescind the stricture against working with the hunter community. Even if they arerelated to the Slayer."

Sam slammed an arm against Dean's chest, preventing his brother from adding to the contusions on Wesley's face, and lifted an eyebrow at the sly smile on Giles' lips. "No, he's right," said the older man.

"He is?" Dean asked incredulously.

Wesley adjusted his lapels and lifted his nose into the air. "Of course I am."

Giles' next words, however, caused the young man to immediately deflate. "But, as you have so assiduously declared, I am no longer the Watcher in residence and therefore am no longer bound by their rules." He looked at Sam. "I will call as soon as I find anything."

"Suck on that!" Dean told Wesley triumphantly as his brother dragged him out the back door.

Once they were gone, the Watcher turned towards his predecessor, livid. "You have no right to undermine my authority like this!"

"My apologies," answered Giles in a decidedly non-apologetic tone. "I just feel sick about it."


While Dean headed to the coroner to see if either body held any answers, Sam headed over to the Levinson household. His interview with Jonathan was mostly fruitless. The boy was obviously intelligent, but quite spineless and didn't seem the type to cavort with either witches or monsters for revenge.

His overprotective mother, however, immediately sent up red flags. "How dare you accuse my son of… of… whatever it is you're accusing him! Don't you see that little son of a bitch broke his nose?"

"He's not being accused of anything, Mrs. Levinson," Sam said defensively. "I'm just trying to find out—"

"Find out somewhere else!" she cut through scathingly. "Jonathan has homework to do and he's never going to get into MIT with all of this nonsense hanging over his head!"

Sam gave the teenaged boy a pitying look (returned with an expression of weary resignation), apologized to his mother, and left the house. The front door slammed harshly behind him. He shook his head and pulled out his phone. "Anything?" Sam asked as soon as Dean had picked up.

"Maybe. Remember that whole deal with Alastair and the reapers? All those weird sigils and crap?"

"Yeah."

"There's something on their bones that kinda looks the same. Think it might be time to call in Cass."

"Okay. Wanna wait for Buffy?"

"Nah. She's off doing her Slayer stuff. Meet back at Angel's to call in the angel?"

"Sounds Good."


The gruesome pictures on Dean's phone showed blackened limbs and bones cracked from the heat. Despite the destruction, it was easy to spot the jagged sigil carved into each sternum. The coroner, Dean said, had chalked it up to coincidence, but as the hunter had said earlier there was no doubting the similarities between those and the ones they'd seen Alastair use to trap two reapers.

Angel peered at the photos as well. "Enochian."

"What's that?" wondered Dean. "Some kinda disease?"

"It's a language. I've seen it used for spells."

"What's it say?" Dean rolled his eyes when the vampire shrugged. "Great. Cass!" the hunter shouted at the ceiling. "Get your nerdy ass down here!"

"Was that meant to be insulting?" asked a puzzled Castiel after the usual rush of feathers.

"Maybe."

Sam snatched Dean's phone and handed it to the angel. "Do you recognize this?"

Castiel's brow furrowed. "Yes."

"So what is it?"

"I need to go."

"But—" Sam had barely finished his objection when the trench-coated angel disappeared. "Now what?" he asked irritably.

"I dunno," Dean said, "but I'm starved. Wanna see what Joyce is cooking?"

"Sure. Want to come?" Sam asked Angel.

The vampire shook his head. "I… don't think my dietary needs are Summers' dinner table appropriate."

Angel barely resisted the urge to lift his eyebrows when Buffy's younger brother flinched. That pervasive demonic stench was less, but it was still far stronger than it had been before the vampire had gone to Hell. Could he be…? No, Angel told himself. Sam couldn't possibly be that reckless.

Dean hadn't noticed. "All right, lets go. See ya, Broody."

Angel listened to the roar of the Impala fade down the road. Speculating about Sam's possible dark habits made him uneasy. Telling Dean wasn't an option; despite all they'd gone through together and the lies perpetrated by his brother, Angel was fairly certain that the man still trusted Sam more than an inhuman being. Not only that, but Buffy's relationship with her younger brother was still on tenterhooks. The vampire was loathe to snap those tenuous bonds without good reason.

After all, Angel had no substantial proof that Sam was drinking demon blood. Until he did, there was no reason to overreact.


Both Buffy's brothers and her mother were taken slightly aback at the teenager's overexcited demeanor. Having come off an early night's patrol with Faith they expected her to be more exhausted than anything else. Instead, Buffy was bursting at the seams to tell her family about the vampires they'd encountered and how thrilling it had been to vanquish so many foes at once.

Sam, Dean, and Joyce exchanged uneasy glances, a gesture that caused Buffy to grind her expose to a halt. Her leg twitched impatiently under the table and as soon as the last bite was swallowed she zipped out the door. At the same time, Sam received a call for "Agent Ward." They reluctantly left an anxious Joyce alone to go check out the newest fatality.

The woman who'd died, Lily Chen, had no connection to either the previous victims save for two things: she'd died by spontaneous combustion and she bore the same carving on her sternum. Of note, however, was the rather blasé manner of her widower, Joe. Though the method of his wife's passing was sufficiently horrifying, the fact that she was dead seemed to satisfy him more than anything else. Apparently Lily, after finding another lover, had been planning on filing for divorce and taking her husband for everything he was worth. As he was a local contractor and had little to his name didn't seem to manner; the bitch wanted whatever he had.

"That's… harsh," Sam said.

"I saved and saved to bring us here," Joe replied angrily. "Do you know how difficult it is to immigrate from China? And how much money it takes to live here? You know what she tells me? I work too much! We cannot buy things she wants! So she finds a rich man and sleeps with him."

As the non-grieving widower walked away, lapsing into Cantonese and into what the brothers thought was probably a profanity laden tirade, Dean wiped a hand down his face in exasperation. "Now what? This lady had nothing in common with the other two and I really doubt the Chens are related to the Levinsons."

"That's not exactly true," Sam replied pensively. "All three victims had something in common: they were all pricks. And not just the average kind of prick, the kind that really, reallyhurts someone else."

"So we got three assholes fried to a crisp, Cass knows what it is and ain't saying, and a sister who's acting like she's on crack."

"You wanna go check on her?"

Dean shook his head. "We don't even know what graveyard she's at and I need my four hours of beauty sleep."

Sam sighed. "Yeah. Guess there's nothing much else we can do for now."


Castiel assiduously kept out of sight of the pair of Slayers in the cemetery. He nearly intervened when the pair of them managed to get themselves on the ground under a pair of vampires (and at the same time hold a conversation about copulating with the lanky boy that seemed perpetually in the original Slayer's presence), but they recovered quickly.

The angel sensed the thing he was looking for nearby along with the presence of a few demons. After insuring that the pair of girls were heading in the opposite direction, Castiel headed for the crypt where both the demons and the item were located. He took a moment to listen, noting the name "Gleaves" etched into the top of the doorway.

"Hurry up!"

"Look, the dickhead stuffed the thing literally up the corpse's ass. Excuse me for not wanting to be covered in dead guy shit!"

"If you'd killed him in the first place like you were supposed to then maybe he wouldn't have had time to hide it."

"I'm sorry, did you want to stuff your hand in half rotten fat man?"

"No."

"Then shut the fuck up!"

Castiel had heard enough. He wrenched open the stone doors and marched inside, much to the astonishment of the hellspawn. One was elbows deep into the relatively recently deceased Albert Gleaves whose corpulent corpse was emitting what his vessel registered as a gut-wrenching smell.

Before either could react the angel was on them, his hands on their foreheads burning the demon's essence from their hosts. The one exploring Albert Gleaves' abdomen slid out of the cavity with a squelch. Following the thump of the demon's corpse came a small clink as the item they were looking for was dislodged.

"Oh," came a new voice. "Well this is awkward."

Castiel swiveled around, his eyes wide. He gazed at the being in the doorway, breathless with shock. "Impossible."

"Improbable," the other one corrected.

"How did you survive? I saw you fall!"

"Long story. Easier to tell when I'm not bleeding to death."

"I will take you to safety, Balthazar," agreed Castiel, his initial bewilderment over his friend's sudden reincarnation giving way to righteous anger. "And afterwards, you will give me an explanation or I will finish what the demons started."

"Ah, Cassie," the other angel said with a sigh, his hand pressing hard against the gleaming wound on his side. "I have missed you."


Acknowledgement : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "Bad Girls" (BtVS 3.14).