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Quarrels

Dean's mind seemed to be on the same page as Diem's.

"You don't look like an angel, Beelzebub," she said. The barrel of her shotgun followed the Angel's every move as he took in her house. The couch space between them was limited and every now and then they'd nudge each other to make room. "You look like someone who plays too much Fallout on their Xbox."

"Xbox? Damn, girl, when you cut it's to the bone." Beelzebub inspected the knickknacks in the living room. He was a hefty man. One who drank a little too much beer. His belly protruded over his faded Levis. His hair was brown and curly. He wore a shirt that proclaimed Bazinga! beneath a grey wool peacoat even though it was the end of Summer. He looked like an overage college student that supplied fellow undergrads with weed and molly. This was the supposedly fearsome Angel? Dean felt short changed.

The Enochian symbols written in blood caught Beelzebub's attention. The summoning spell was handed over by Crowley himself free of charge which was concerning to say the very least. The King of Hell never did anything out of the graciousness of his heart. Something wasn't adding up.

"Crowley, you snitch." Beelzebub touched the spell and a smile touched his lips that was concealed by a thick groomed beard. "Is the Imprisoning Sigil needed? We can speak this over amicably without trapping me in here with no powers."

Sam laughed and it was the first time Dean saw his brother smile within the past few days. He hadn't spoken a word to anyone, but would give a death glare in between his cold shouldering. It wasn't like his brother to give the silent treatment, he usually chose to purge out emotions, but for him to take a vow of silence meant that he was pissed. Dean felt like a piece of shit clinging to a hog's ass. He didn't know Diem was an alcoholic.

"You give us answers to our questions and we'll keep the peace," Sam said, holding up the wall he leaned against.

"Bub's the name. Beelzebub is so old school and it makes-" His sentence stopped abruptly as his stare dropped to the coffee table he stood before. Picking up what caught his interest, a black journal with tarnished pages, he admired it through thickly framed hipster glasses. It was love at first sight. "Holy shit, I never thought I'd see this again. This is the most vintage doctrine on angelology and demonology there is. Motherfucking legendary. Which one of you lucky bastards is the owner."

Dean hadn't seen the book in his life so he knew it wasn't his or Sam's. Maybe it belonged to Diem. Looking for an answer, he tapped her knee with his. She shook her head slightly and a red flag waved frantically in his mind. It didn't belong to any of them.

"You don't ask the questions." Dean diverted everyone's attention, twirling an angel killing blade between his fingers. His palms were itching to kill Bub and skip the trivial small talk. "You're in our ballpark so you don't make the demands. We're playing Oprah."

"Can I just say that I was so bummed out when I heard she was ending her show." Sitting indian style in a old recliner, Bub sighed. "Sure, she went on to make a great network but things just aren't the same, man. When you lose something iconic, someone else has to fill the voice but no one can replace Oprah. She's too dope. It's like replacing Lucifer as the king of hell with Crowley."

"You sound bitter that he sold you out," Sam said, "There must be bad blood between you, he gave up the summoning spell without much fuss."

"Not mad at all. His men are willingly leaving Hell to join the Belcove so why wouldn't he sell out the competition," he said, still flipping through the pages of the journal. "I paved the road he walks on. Who do you think is responsible for the blueprints to his kingdom back when Lucifer ran shit? He's paranoid and thinks I want to watch it crumble because that's something in his playbook. It's all business so I can't knock the hustle."

Diem groaned in disgust. "You sound like Macklemore. Stop talking like that before I get irritated."

"Diem Carpenter," Bub said her name with constellations in his eyes. They were twinkling with glee. She didn't fold beneath the pressure of his gaze, but Dean gripped her thigh just for safe keeping. "Fun fact, Jesus was a carpenter too. I'm sure you all have heard great stories about him."

"Let's we kill him and get it over with."

Dean nodded. "My thoughts exactly."

"This is what's going to happen kiddos," Bub chuckled, slamming shut the journal he leafed through. He tossed it back where he found it like it no longer interested him. "We're going to nix the shenanigans of killing me because I'm not so keen on dying, and we're going to strike up a deal."

Diem cocked her shotgun. "There's no fun in that. I kind of want to see the pointy end of the blade go into your chest."

"What deal?" Sam asked.

Dean frowned. His brother was always the middle man. "Don't humor him."

"You're right, let's just recklessly kill someone who's King of another realm and worry about the consequences later like morons," Sam bit back. His shoulders were bunched to his ears and his arms were folded over his chest. He didn't bother looking a Dean whilst he spoke either. Did he think he was the one who called the shots? "Let's hear him out."

Why? What was the point of going through the back and forth if the result was going to be the same no matter what. Dean stood and blocked in Sam's line of vision, forcing them to look at each other after days of avoidance. "That's a waste of time."

Lifting himself off the wall, Sam was a bull with rage in his eyes as he stomped to Dean. "You tracking me down since you have nothing better to do is the definition of a waste of time. This is strategy, it's logic, not that I would expect you to understand that."

Bub chortled with glee, hitting the arms of his chair with excitement. "Oooooooooh! You gonna take that, Dean?"

Diem's laugh followed. It was her laughter that spiked the adrenaline inside of Dean. He felt like an angsty teen after hearing her laughter. All he wanted to do was curl up and die. He didn't want her to think he was weak.

"Keep it up, Sammy, and it'll be you who gets ganked with this." He was sick of dealing with Sam's shit. He'd be damned if his little brother insulted him like that and he definitely wasn't going to get bitched in front of company. He wouldn't be the laughing stock tonight. Stepping closer to his brother, Dean pointed the blade over Sam's heart. He gave his chest three hard pokes. "You. Got. That. Bitch?"

There was a crack that pierced the air. It wasn't deafening, but it definitely was forceful enough to make the room go quiet except for a high pitched ringing in his ears. It sounded like the crunching noise you heard when you trampled on dead leaves in Autumn. It was followed by a pain so bad, Dean staggered backwards. His jaw throbbed. Tears blurred his vision. Root canal's were less painful.

Sam punched him.

Rage took over Dean, pumping through him like blood. He swung viciously at his brother, putting everything he had into that one punch. He collided with nothing but air as he was pulled back. Diem hugged his waist and though she was smaller then him, she had enough strength to yank him aside.

"Stop!" she shouted, running to Sam who stood ready and willing to throw blows. Diem put her hand on Sam's chest and separated the distance between him and Dean. "What the fuck, Sam, you can't just hit your brother like that."

"You've known him for only days and you're automatically taking his side." Sam pushed away her hand. "Why are you defending someone you don't even know?"

"I'm not defending him. You're forcing my hand here. Whatever bullshit you both have going on is your business, but you can't go all Apollo Creed in here. This is a democracy. Numbers is the name of the game and right now it's two against one."

"I'm not playing into that crap. Not when you've been making piss poor choices lately."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You got drunk with my brother!" Sam's voice became the loudest in the room. His chest heaved violently like a wild animal's and Dean watched his brother let loose all the rage he'd been containing. His hands ripped through his hair and the sight of him barking at a woman wasn't a good look. "You compromised your sobriety for Dean Winchester of all people. So no, Diem, you don't get the luxury of a vote. Your opinion doesn't goddamn matter."

"I don't have a vote in my own home? Have you lost your mind? You don't come into my house telling me what I can and cannot do. Who the fuck do you think you are? My daddy?"

"Daddy, huh?" Sam's face was cold except for the mocking smirk that crawled onto his face. Lowering his head, their faces were so close Dean thought they'd kiss. "Wouldn't be the first time you've called me that."

Diem hit Sam with the punch Dean wanted to give him. It was lightning strike fast, so Dean figured it was reflexes that took over her body. She hit him good in the nose, his head hit the wall behind him due to the force.

Wow.

She stepped to the side, looking over her shoulder to address Dean who was clenching his jaw. Immediately he saw the tender frown on her lips and the hurt in her eyes. He hoped she didn't cry. He hated seeing a woman cry. Damn, she needed a hug. "Whoop his ass, Dean."

"They like each other, Sam." Bub laughed. For a moment, he was the forgotten one, a fly on the wall listening in on all the drama. "I know it's hard for you to process because it's so damn sudden, but their attraction was instant and you don't stand a chance. The harder you try to stop it, the more they'll want each other. But I think you know that."

"That's it." Gripping the blade in his hand, Dean charged towards the sitting Angel. "You're dead."

"Try that if you want to, but I have fifty-seven and a half angels and demons surrounding this house ready to fuck some shit up big time if even a single hair from my gooch doesn't make it out of here safely." Bub said, stopping Dean mid step. "And just in case you're wondering, yes we have a little person in the Belcove and yes he is the half. You all may have your lover's quarrels clouding your judgement right now, but I'm going to drop a serious bomb right now. I want nothing to do with Earth. I want nothing to do with Heaven. I want nothing to do with Hell. The Belcove is where I reside and we're all about keeping the peace. No harm will come from us unless you initiate it. They would've killed you all the moment you threatened me if that were the case."

The three of them, arguing or not, couldn't take on fifty-eight angels and demons. That would've been foolish, a suicide mission. Containing his snarl, Dean concealed his weapon. Whether he liked it or not he was at the mercy of the douchebag Angel. "You previously mentioned a deal. What was it?"

"None of the inhabitants of the Belcove set foot on Earth, I'm talking Angels and Demons alike. You don't have to worry about them harming a hunter or a human so long as I'm still allowed to set foot here from time to time. I need to be able to invite a few demons and such to my side of town but that's strictly business and then I'm outtie. All you have to do is keep me alive and let me go."

"Everyone under you will stay off Earth?" Diem sniffled. "If they don't I'll kill them off one by one and it won't be pretty.

"I'll hand them over to you myself."

Dean still wasn't convinced. "I don't trust you."

"Look at me, bro," he said. Holding his hands out to his face, he smiled innocently like a child. "I wouldn't hurt a fly."

Doing what his brother wanted him to do all along, Dean took the deal. There wasn't any other option, but it was a fucking chore for him to wipe away the the sigil and set the fat bastard free. The angel disappeared, but not before annoyingly departing with, "dueces,", leaving the three broken hunters alone with each other.

"I should've never come here. It was a mistake." Sam said, turning his back on Diem and Dean. "Tomorrow, Dean and I will be gone."