Twerk

Sam was in the middle of eating the leftovers when Diem and Dean appeared in the kitchen spontaneously. His hand flew to the gun stored in his waistband. Alongside the two hunters and the reason for the teleportation trick was Castiel. The angel's usually stoic face appeared somber and it made Sam's mind whirl with dread. He was reluctant to loosen the grip on his gun. Trouble was just around the corner, hoovering like an overcast. Sam could sense it in the cramped kitchen. Why else would Castiel be there?

Diem stumbled to the fridge, yanking open its door. "My stomach is making noises like the impala right now." she grumbled. Her face was hidden behind the stainless steel refrigerator door, but Sam could hear the annoyance in her voice. "All these damn groceries but no food. Let's order pizza."

Castiel stood beneath the archway that lead from the kitchen to the expansive living room. His hand skimmed along the eggshell colored wall and his eyes jumped from place to place. "Your home is well warded, Diem. I detect magic protecting it."

She let out a dry chuckle. "Do you think I'd let an Angel in my house if it wasn't?"

"Why are you here, Cas?" Sam asked.

"I have concerning news."

"No shit." Curling his lip, Dean took a seat at the small dining table across from Sam. He let out a low exhale and Sam could smell the heavy stench of booze on Dean's breath. He smelled like a distillery. "This news better be CNN worthy for you to interrupt me mid-twerk."

Dean's words were horrendous to Sam's ears. He wanted to cringe at how godawful it made him feel. "Twerk?" he repeated and it just didn't feel satisfying against his lips. It made him shudder. Appetite diminishing, he pushed his plate away in disgust. "You twerked on my brother?"

Sam put the spotlight on Diem. Everyone's attention was focused on her and Sam anticipated the answer. She leaned her face from behind the freezer door and her eyes met Sam's. The seconds drifted away while their gazes locked and she said nothing. Pulling her lips into a bashful smile, she winked at him and then went back to rummaging through her refrigerator.

What type of answer was that?

"What is twerk?" Castiel's face soured. "It sounds rather painful."

Dean grinned hard before looking over his shoulder to address the confused Angel. "Trust me, Cas, it ain't."

Sam could feel the space between his lungs tightening and could only mouth soundless words. He didn't want to believe Dean and instead chose to trust the solid foundation of friendship he had with Diem. Their situtionship may have been absent of labels and open at best, but Sam knew she respected him enough to not go after his brother.

He still had to ask. "You didn't twerk on Dean did you?" He sounded like a spiteful boyfriend.

"What do you think?" she slurred, shutting the freezer with a bag of frozen fruit in her hand. Her eyes hung low and her fingers were gripping the kitchen counter for stability. Holding the bag to the back of her neck, her eyes fell shut and her head lolled against the cabinet behind her. "I'm thinking chicken and pineapples on that pizza. Breadsticks too."

Sam's frown tugged even deeper when he noticed Diem's unusual behavior. She didn't feel present in the kitchen with everyone else. It were as if her feet weren't planted firmly onto the ground and she was drifting high amongst the stars.

"Are you drunk?" he screeched. The words came tumbling out before his brain could process the moment.

The question hung in the air like a foul odor. She answered him with silence and much to Sam's chagrin it was Dean who was bold enough to answer.

"Behold." Motioning to Diem like she was trophy shining on a mantle, he smacked his lips triumphantly. "The power of patron."

"I bet you kept that joke in your pocket all night, waiting to use it. You're so lame." she said, barely opening her eyes. "I fucked up, Sam, but don't get mad."

His jaw tensed from how hard teeth clenched. The table rattled from his shaking leg. He couldn't breathe and his chest burned for oxygen as if someone was forcing a pillow over his face. He wanted to scream until his voice vanished and his nails clawed along his jeans to keep from destroying something.

Diem compromised her sobriety for Dean. She disturbed a sleeping tiger for an asshole who couldn't care less about her. He looked at how proudly Dean smiled and prayed for the strength to resist lunging over the table and beating the shit out of him. Dean didn't know what he'd done, how could he have. Sam still placed the blame on his brother's shoulders and he was going to suffer for it.

Their only saving grace at the moment was Castiel's presence. His important news outweighed the temptation of trashing Diem's house. The potential of a case having to be solved would always negate petty feelings. Before Diem's alcoholism, before Dean's treachery, and before Sam's own torment, the job came first.

Exhaling, Sam counted to ten, refocused his attention, and bottled his suffering. "Can you tell us what you came here for, Cas."

"Perhaps I should come back at a time where two of the three hunters aren't inebriated. I am sensing a heavy amount of turmoil."

"Cas," Sam barked. "Please."

"The angels are disappearing," he said. "Along with the Demons."

Lifting onto the hind legs of his chair, Dean balanced himself to keep from falling. "That's all? That's the big hooplah? Excuse me for not seeing the problem here since that only makes our jobs easier."

"I have to admit, originally I thought nothing of it. I attributed these disappearances to the waging war between heaven and hell nothing more, but soon I realized there were no casualties. There were no vacant corpses were to be found. But there were talks amongst the garrison of how these angels and demons left willingly. They chose to abandon Heaven, Hell, and Earth."

"So they went to another dimension," Sam said. "Purgatory, maybe?"

Dean grimaced. "That place doesn't bring in tourists. No one goes there freely."

"The Belcove," Castiel said. It was a name Sam had never heard uttered nor read in any page of any book. "They're residing in The Belcove."

Hopping onto the counter, Diem propped her head between her hands. "The Belcove? Was that the best they could think of it sounds like someone opened a phonebook and picked the first name they saw. It's not very intimidating."

"I've only heard tales of what its like there," Castiel said. "Buildings sculpted of bones, drapes fashioned of flesh. This could all very well be hearsay. Only inhabitants of the Belcove know what it's truly like. Once you're admitted the only form of departure is death."

Dean's eyebrow raised. "So how do you on the V.I.P list?"

"Beelzebub invites you himself. You swear your undying allegiance to him. He's the Shepherd herding the flock."

"Oh shit, you mean like Lord of the Flies? I read that book." Diem covered her mouth to prevent from laughing. "A shipwrecked crew of white boys all went cuh-razy on an island."

Beelzebub? Sam always believed that was just another one of Lucifer's monikers. It'd never crossed his mind to believe they were separate entities. They were dealing with something old and powerful.

"Can we kill him?" Sam asked.

"He's an Angel, so an Angel killing blade may work," Castiel said. "Though the notion sounds less tedious than it is."

"Alright so we'll summon him and gank the son of a bitch. Consider it done." Dean was more preoccupied balancing in his chair than the case. He was flippant with his remarks as if nothing struck fear in his heart anymore. "We've gone against worst."

"Look at all that misplaced cockiness," Diem replied. "That type of bravado gets idiots killed."

"You afraid of a little death, sweetheart?"

"To be fair this death would be particularly gruesome," Castiel said. "The worst to date rest assured. He'd make a spectacle out of you in front of the masses."

"Stop blowing smoke up his ass," Dean said. "Sam will find the ritual we need to summon him and after that ."

"You won't find the ritual," Cas said. "I've already scoured the Earth for it and there's only one person who has it and they won't hand it over for free."

Sam's brows furrowed, knowing whoever had the spell was where they were headed first. "Who has it?"

"Crowley."