Disclaimers – Usual. Don't own anything. And, fyi, the Edgar-suit is from Men in Black and the quote - "Oh god, oh god. We're all going to die!" – is from Serenity. Don't own anything related to those, either. Well, I do own a copy of Serenity, and season 1 of Supernatural, come to think of it, but that's it.

Oh, and a "warning" - This story is blatantly Christian. That said, if you don't agree with the Christian theology, use your discretion. Oh, and, no, I have not fully thought out the doctrine of whether or not angels and demons can actually be killed... hence, this is fiction. And the verses used are from the NASB. Thank you and enjoy.

Chapter 3

Rarely had a hunt gone so wrong. Never, actually. If it had, neither Dean nor Sam would be alive anymore.

"You still with me, bro?" Dean was leaning against the wall of the cave. He was beat to hell and fighting to stay conscious. Sam was much worse off. Aside from having been strangled… again… Sam had also had the tar beat out of him, and had somehow managed to impale himself on a ceremonial dagger. The dagger was thicker at the hilt than the tip, so they agreed it was best to keep it in his body, letting it act as a stopper for the blood that still managed to pour out far too quickly.

After a few quick, pain-filled breaths, Sam gave a slight nod of his head and choked out, "Yeah… I'm good."

Their bullets were spent, not that they did much good against demons. Yeah, that's right… de-mons. They were supposed to be checking out a local cult, similar to the Burkitsville situation. What had gotten them into trouble was that the "god" was actually a demon, with demon lackeys, and the priest and his two body guards housed their own demon lackeys. The situation had gone from bad to worse to "Oh god, oh god. We're all going to die!"

So now, Dean and Sam found themselves in the cave where the ritual sacrifices were performed. There were five demons present, including the wannabe-god. The demon lackeys had shed their now-dead Edgar-suits and were toying with the hunters, inflicting as much pain as possible. For Dean, watching Sam die was as bad as it got. His own will to fight and live poured out of him along with his brother's life's blood. Neither of them would make it out of this, he knew. Dean knew he'd die on a hunt. There really wasn't any other way he'd want to go. Well, a sly smile appeared on his lips, that's not the only way I'd want to go. Me and the woman of my dreams, in bed… Yeah. Now there's a way to go. But to go without even finishing his quest. To know The Demon, that yellow-eyed son-of-a-bitch, was still out there, that was not what he'd expected. And he certainly wasn't supposed to go after Sam. He couldn't watch his brother die. God, please. I don't have to make it out of this. But Sam… He's strong enough to carry on, to live a 'normal' life, to be happy again. Please, not Sam.

If the situation could have gotten any worse, Dean didn't know how. And then something else appeared – three somethings - and they were huge, standing well over seven feet tall. It was difficult to actually look at them. It was a bit like trying to look at the sun. Stare too long and their image would be forever burned into your eyes. But from what Dean could see, they looked like burning hot liquid metal that somehow maintained the shape of a man. Their eyes were white hot and Dean felt, rather than actually saw, when the one on point glanced in his direction. Their communication was a liquid sound, like the Niagara Falls – a low, rumbling, fluid sound – and they were not speaking English. Dean guessed they weren't speaking any human language. Perhaps these gods, if there really were such a thing, were angry at the demons for having the gall to claim godhood. All Dean could make out was that these fearsome creatures were not happy.

The demons initially reacted in surprise, backing away slightly from this new threat. They quickly realized, though, that they had the three out-numbered. The demons seemed to be able to understand these beings and hurled insults and threats in return. At least, that's what it sounded like to Dean. Is the enemy of my enemy really my friend? Dean briefly wondered. Not that ascended beings usually pay that much attention to us mortals.

By this time, the demons had pulled their swords. That's odd, Dean thought. Where'd they get those? They're puffs of smoke. But the swords looked substantial… and deadly. They were red and black, like volcanic ash with veins of hot lava flowing through it. They even appeared to give off a black smoke of their own, burning the air around them, leaving the smell of sulfur and ozone.

The other three beings also pulled out swords. These also burned, but where the demon swords were black, these glowed with light and fire, giving off a smell Dean couldn't quite place. Then, with a suddenness that made Dean jump and his heart skip a beat… I am going to die of a heart attack after all, at this rate... the beings before him snapped open… wings. The top edge of the wings appeared to be fitted with metal plating, honed to a razors edge. The outermost tips were also fitted with deadly points, making their wings as lethal as the swords they carried.

The battle was on. The demons leapt into action, diving toward their opponents, hacking and slashing, trying to overwhelm with their numbers. The angels, as Dean now recognized them, made a loose triangle. They left plenty of room to safely manipulate their wings without hurting each other. Between the combined furry of the blades and the wings, no demon had opportunity to slip between them. This was unlike any fight Dean had ever witnessed. There were dodges and parries, holds and escapes. The fight made use of the entire cave – walls, floor, and ceiling. Neither the angels nor the demons were bound by the laws of gravity and, at times, Dean battled vertigo and felt his stomach turn at the spins and upside-down fighting. Each fighter oriented himself to the other fighters, not to his physical surroundings.

Two of the smaller demons were taken out early on. A sword swipe and a swipe of a wing cut threw the demons, dissipating them into puffs of smoke that blew apart from the air currents caused by the movement in the cave. One of the demons shrieked in anger and frustration. The demons changed their strategy and all went for one particular angel. One of the demons swiped with his sword and cut off the top of its wing, leaving an ugly charred area on the now useless wing. The metal plating went flying, hit a wall, crashed to floor, and melted into the earth. The angel lost its balance from the force of the hit, but managed to take out the demon who had disabled his wing. The other two demons took the opening in the angel's defenses, one cutting its leg out from under him and the other taking his head. The angel burst into fiery light and faded. The battle never paused or slowed. It was now one-on-one. The angels, however, were better able to work in cooperation, switching targets with speed and fluidity, keeping the demons confused and off balance. In a matter of seconds, the final two demons were gone and only wisps of smoke bore witness to their presence.

The two angels spoke with each other, briefly. Both were marred with cuts of varying depths, each one singed and ashy. The one nodded and turned from the other, disappearing from human sight. The other stood for a moment, then walked to the place where the fallen angel's plating had melted into the floor. He knelt and reached out a hand to touch the wet earth.

"He was known as Matthias, to your people." The angel rose as he spoke these words. While turning to face Dean, he tucked his wings behind him, and the light that shone around him faded. No, not faded. He seemed to draw it into himself, while also deflating his size, until he appeared human. A six-foot-four, dark-skinned human.

"Joshua!?" Dean breathed.

Joshua gave Dean a small smile, but his very expressive eyes communicated deep sorrow that Dean could feel rolling off of him. "You see, we have much in common." Joshua glanced back over to the spot where his friend had died. "We have lost much to our enemies."

"Joshua. Please… Sam." He felt sorry for Joshua, and knew he should have felt more, but Sam was his all consuming thought.

Joshua knelt down in front of Sam. He pulled the knife from Sam's stomach, and the blood poured even faster. Too much. It was too much blood. Dean bit his lip to keep from speaking and tears made trails down his face. Sam was dead no matter what happened. There would have been no way to get him to a hospital in time. At least his suffering would end quicker now. Yet, part of him hoped that Joshua would do something to help Sam live, not just to ease his passing. Dean found hope difficult and faith even harder, but if he could muster anything to save his brother… he would give all he had.

Joshua glanced at Dean with a warm, comforting smile. Then he closed his eyes and raised his head to the heavens above. A glimmer of the glow Dean had seen earlier pushed its way through the otherwise un-extraordinary visage of the man before him. Sam had passed out during the battle, Dean knew, but his breathing was still shallow and slightly erratic. Now, his breathing evened out. His sweat-covered and far-too-pale face began to color with life.

As Joshua stood up, Dean examined the wound and saw that it had healed. "Thank you." He looked over at Sam, then at the cave around him. "We can't win, can we? We don't have the gun anymore…" He had never felt as small as he had today… or as unprepared for the battle ahead.

Joshua's compassion was almost overwhelming to Dean. "You cannot. Not alone. Take this." Joshua held out a book. It was plain, unadorned, and small. " ' "It's not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit" says the Lord.' You have everything you need to win. You just need to believe."

Dean smiled a little and shook his head. "Still trying to convert me, Joshua?"

The gentle smile never faltered. "Oh, you will… you will."

With that, Joshua walked away and melted into the shadows. Dean had a feeling he was still around, unseen, and was surprised by the comfort that gave him. He looked down at the small book, and smiled. It was a Bible, with his name carefully written on the cover. Inscribed on the inside cover were the words "For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. – Eph 2:10."

Dean smiled again. And the seed started to spread roots.

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A/N - Just a little side story, here. The first chapter of this fiction was done because of an observation I had made, which my husband than challenged me to write and explanation for it. The second chapter was written, again, as a possible explanation for why the demon left so abruptly at the end of Crossroads. This third chapter is a deviation from the other two (those being observation/reaction stories). My point is that I don't really have an end point for this story, or even a next chapter. It's really just drabble that comes to mind. I genuinely appreciate the interest this story has created, and I feel a little guilty that I update it so infrequently. Anyway, thank you all for your patience. I don't know where this is going, or how often I will update in the future. But, thank you.