The room was silent after Metatron's announcement, everyone stunned at the brazen ultimatum.
Sam shifted quietly and brought his hand up to rub his lips in thought.
"I think I've found the fatal flaw in this plan," he deadpanned.
"No way," Dean intoned, uncrossing his arms."Plan's off. We're not doing this."
"Fine," Metatron grinned, "then Sam dies," he shrugged.
"You son of a-"
"Why do you want to be with us, Metatron?" Sam cut Dean off. Dean allowed it and stood down but glowered at the diminutive man.
The angel heaved a sigh, opened his arms in appeal to them all, and wearily moved over to sit in the armchair near Sam. Dean bristled. The angel fixed his gaze on Sam with something bordering on compassion but, unnervingly, it lacked authenticity. Sam's attempt at a smile returned a wan grimace.
"I've been in hiding for ages. In that time, I read," Metatron paused for effect.
Sam blinked. "You read?" He asked dumbly, coming up short.
"I read stories, Sam. Stories..." Metratron's face lit up with wonder, his smile widening enough to reveal every crooked tooth. Sam swallowed sickly.
"Okay..." he trailed off. Metatron's eyes glittered, waiting for Sam to understand something. After a few seconds, it was clear Sam wasn't understanding anything.
Metatron's dazzled expression quickly gave way to bitter, disdainful frustration. He slapped his knees and stood back up with a huff. Dean, still treating the angel as an enemy in their midst, shifted his stance warily.
Oblivious, Metatron stalked over to the fireplace and started pacing. Dean moved carefully over next to Sam, placing himself between the angel and his brother. His patience was thinning; Metatron's proximity to Sam just now had been uncomfortable for Sam, he could tell, but it'd been outright stressful for Dean.
"You humans don't understand. You create. You become gods yourselves when you tell stories. Don't you get it?!"
Sam's headache was coming back. Through squinted eyes he observed Castiel. The normally implacable angel had straightened and lifted his chin, monitoring Metatron in a way that gave Sam the impression he thought very little of him, God's scribe though he may be.
Sam's take was that he was a shut-in that had spent a little too much time reading fiction and not enough time experiencing nonfiction. Just then Metatron stopped grumbling to himself about ignorant humans, stomped to a halt in the very front of the fireplace, and faced them all.
"I want to be part of the story, don't you see?!" He cried. "I've been in hiding for so long, longing for the chance to be my own character in a story. And in truth, what better story could I be a part of right now?"
"Hold on," Sam said, trying to wrap his mind around what he'd just said..
"This is a story to you?" Dean accused, his voice low and threatening.
"Yeah! Yes. Are you kidding?" Metatron burst, then gestured to Sam just as Sam covered his eyes and rubbed his temples, his headache getting worse.
"Sam! You are the hero! You are Gilgamesh, Hercules, Odysseus, the greats! On a quest! For something so noble. Don't you understand? I want in!"
"Unreal," Dean washed a hand down his face and glanced at Sam.
"Au contraire, very real!" Metatron retorted excitedly. Dean shook his head and stepped over to Sam, having noticed he was hunched over and covering his forehead.
Metatron continued to ramble, unaware and running himself into fanatical fervor, his words jostling together into rapid-fire enthusiasm. "Honestly, I've been waiting and this is my chance. I want to go on this hero's quest - a quest which God himself described to me. Oh I knew I could never be the hero - that was reserved for humans," Metatron spat, rolling his eyes.
Dean whispered something to Sam, placing a light hand on the back of his head. Kevin shuffled closer too, watching solicitously, his palm bracing the small of Sam's back as a sign of silent support.
"-but even so, it was always one of my favorites," Metatron continued. "Even back in the day transcribing it I knew I wanted to bear witness. I just knew-"
"Sam, are you all right?" Castiel suddenly spoke up from where he'd been standing next to the fireplace, irritated by Metatron's incessant babbling. At the abrupt interjection, Metatron shot Castiel a glare but soon followed the angel's line of sight to what was going on.
Dean was brushing Sam's hair back.
"What's wrong?" Metatron's voice grated as the angel took a couple steps to lean and hover over them.
"Metatron, please step back," Castiel demanded sharply.
Metatron turned to look at Castiel. "Excuse me?"
"I'm fine," Sam coughed as Dean reached over to grab the pillow Kevin was holding out to him. "Really," he added. Dean put the cushion on the arm of the couch and angled Sam to lean against it.
"Metatron, if you would," Castiel gritted out.
"If I would what, Castiel?" Metatron sniped back, straightening indignantly to face him.
"Kev, go get the bucket and some Tylenol, will you?" Dean asked openly, no longer even vaguely interested in the angels' conversation now. Kevin nodded and disentangled himself from the blankets to get the items.
"Tylenol won't help anything," Metatron snorted.
"Metatron," Castiel nearly yelled.
Sam gritted his teeth, blinked and fixed his gaze on his brother. Dean leaned forward, knowing Sam only wanted to be heard by him.
"Get rid of him, will you? Just for now," he whispered tiredly.
"Yeah," Dean murmured, pushing Sam's bangs back one more time before turning around and standing up to face the angel.
"Metatron, you want to be part of the story? Clear out. We need time to consider," Dean said, his tone brooking no argument.
Metatron, unaware or perhaps just ignorant and obstinate enough to believe Dean was no threat, ignored the man's tonal cues and bypassed his implicit authority.
"You don't have time to consider, Dean Winchester," Metatron pressed, "I am giving you the opportunity-"
"Metatron," Sam interrupted angrily, his voice gravelly but surprisingly strong. His unblinking gaze fixed on the angel. "If you've read the stories - the classics - you understand betrayal, do you not?"
Metatron licked his lips and took on a uniquely petulant bearing.
"Yes, but-"
"Then you realize that if you betray us, I will die," Sam stated firmly.
"I won't betray you!" Metatron brayed, practically stomping his foot. "And you'll die anyway!"
Struck, the room went silent. Metatron slumped, knowing he'd crossed a line and disappointed they weren't looking past it.
"Leave us," Castiel said quietly, "and we will consider your offer, Metatron."
Metatron took a second, fury building as he looked at each of their distrustful expressions. He stared at Dean, who was covering his little brother from view now.
In the middle of the stand-off, Kevin entered back into the study with the bucket and Tylenol. Metatron's beady eyes tracked the boy's body language which practically screamed apprehensive caution. He put the bucket on the floor below Sam and settled down next to him without a word, handing the Tylenol over too.
"Thanks Kev," Sam murmured.
Metatron frowned, every inch of him radiating indignant pride, impotent anger. He wasn't receiving the automatic trust and gratitude he obviously thought he was due.
"Fine," he wailed, disgusted. He vanished on his own finger snap, vaguely reminding Dean of Gabriel, yet another douchebag angel... but one that still pulled through for them in the end. Hopefully Metatron would be the same.
The fire crackled loud and crisp in the angel's wake. Kevin coughed. Castiel's posture relaxed. Dean swore. Sam let out a sigh of relief and rubbed his eyes.
"He's a fucking psychopath," Dean ruled. He pulled the coffee table closer to the edge of the couch and sat down in front of the sofa Sam and Kevin were on.
"Sociopath," Sam corrected dryly.
"Agreed," Castiel sighed. He stepped forward and sat next to Dean, closing the tight circle around Sam.
"Kevin... what's your... verdict?" Sam struggled to ask between reflexive swallows.
"Um..." Kevin stalled, worried about Sam.
"My head's better now but my stomach," Sam strained, holding himself around the waist.
"Okay, here," Dean murmured as he handed Sam a water bottle to wash down the Tylenol he'd fished out of the bottle earlier. At his first gulp, Sam's stomach seemed to revolt. He made a muffled sound of pain which had Dean pulling Sam forward over the edge of the couch and lifting the bucket up for him.
"I'm all right, 'm all right I think..." Sam said and spat into it. No blood, just regular saliva. No water or pills either. All good signs. "We should talk about Metatron. What he just said," Sam said sickly as he pulled up wiping his mouth.
"Are you well enough to have this conversation?" Castiel asked, eyes round and sincere.
"It's only going to get worse," Sam rasped. "Sorry."
"No need to apologize," Castiel said evenly. "Illness and death typify human suffering."
Sam gave a withering smile and a sarcastic thumbs up.
"Great, thanks Cas," Dean commented, putting the right words to Sam's actions.
Silence reigned over them as Sam regained steady breaths. "I think we should go for it," Sam said finally, looking at Dean, knowing his big brother would be the hardest to convince.
Castiel nodded. "I agree. There is no reason not to."
"What? What about the betrayal thing? Sam, you said it yourself," Dean argued. Sam shook his head.
"If we do nothing, I die-"
"We don't know that, Sam."
"Dean," Sam called softly, wide, red-rimmed eyes seeking Dean's, "we do know that."
Dean grimaced, his emotions getting the better of him as he looked at his brother slowly wasting away.
"We don't," Dean rebutted, swallowing thickly. "If Metatron is betraying us, it'd make perfect sense to manipulate us like this. Of course he would say you'll die if we don't trust him."
"Metatron claims Sam will most likely die even if we do trust him, Dean," Castiel said, his voice low and careful. Sam looked at Cas and realized the angel was easy to face. His distinguished bearing and measured sympathy afforded Sam an emotional breather, a moment to assess the costs and benefits of Metatron's offer rationally without seeing abject fear in anyone's eyes - in Dean's eyes.
"Metatron has no reason to betray us. His reason to join us, to be... part of the story," Sam repeated the angel's words with a bitter edge of repulsion, "is too pathetic to be false." Dean huffed in agreement over the insult.
"I found Metatron on a federal Native American reservation. His home held no furniture; just literature stacked to the ceilings and a single armchair. It seems as though he is telling the truth about his background," Cas provided.
"Yeah but," Kevin started tentatively and all heads turned to face him. Kevin tensed but pressed on, "I mean... if he's a sociopath like Sam said, what if betraying us makes for a better story in his mind? He doesn't know the difference between right or wrong, he just wants a great story, right?"
Sam gave a small smile and noticed he may be the only person present that ever had the opportunity or interest in reading much classic literature.
Sam stretched. "I think we're just going to have to hope he thinks it's a more interesting story if he doesn't betray us."
A/N: Originally published 8/15/2014, revised 8/18/2019!
Thank you so much for reading! Please comment/review if you can spare the time! ~ Alex