A/N: Wow! Over 240 visitors to this fic! Thank you! And more follows and favs! You people are amazing! Still, I cannot write requests if no one sends me any. PM or review. Please?
Chapter 4
The next day started normally. Sam woke up early, went for a jog and fetched breakfast and coffee. He walked through the door just as Dean stumbled out of the bedroom, bleary-eyed and half asleep. He bumped into the table and muttered a curse. Sam smiled, "Well, look who's up. Good morning!" Dean looked up, "Damn. So that really happened. It really didn't work. Thought it was just a bad dream." He rummaged through the bag of takeout before looking at Sam, "Dude, where's my burger?"
"I got you a salad. Thought your organs might appreciate some real nutrition after all the abuse you put them through."
"Sam! I've told you! I can't eat rabbit food, I'm a warrior!" Sam's expression subsided into pure bitchface. Dean stared at him for a second, then, grumbling, took one of the salads and his coffee. He pointed a finger in Sam's face, "Just this once," then walked over to sit at the table. He sat down, eyeing Sam up and down, "Are you always gonna wear that for jogging? 'Couse I could get used to this in the morning." Sam stared at him awkwardly, "Shut up." Dean laughed a little, "You can't take yourself so seriously, Sammy. You gotta lighten up, relax!" Sam looked at him like he had grown three heads. Dean set down his coffee, "Well, what's on the agenda for today?"
"Um, I thought we should recheck the research, you know, go back over the bodies, visit some of the other victims, go over James's house if he'll let us." Dean nodded, "See where we went wrong, yeah. Ok," He stood up, "Well I guess we had better get going."
The coroner viewed them with suprise, "Agents! W-what are you doing back? I thought-"
Dean spoke, "Yeah well, there've been some complications. We're going to need to see those bodies again." The man did not seem particularly happy to hear this, in fact his expression soured conciderably, but he escorted them back and pulled out the victims, "I don't know what you hope to find. You and the police have already been over them with a fine tooth comb. Just make sure you clean up before you leave. I don't want to deal with your mess." They watched him as he left, standing still until they heard the door to the morgue slam. Dean whistled, "Wow. Somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed," he sighed, "Anyway, I guess, um, I'll take Bambie, and you take, uh, Rambo over there. Okay?" Sam nodded. Dean spoke, "Good. Let's get started."
And so it began, the endless checking and rechecking of corpses, case files, and coroner's reports that was such a large part of any hunt. The annoying thing was, they had already done these. They had been meticulous the first time, and they really didn't know what they were looking for. Moreover, every time they thought they had found something, they hit a brick wall. Finally, tired and frustrated, they gave up. They hadn't missed anything the first time. The one had been shot, the other electrocuted, plain and simple. They didn't even know what they had hoped to find. A book, Killing Tricksters for Dummies, maybe?
Dean spoke as they exited the hospital, "Well that was a great big waste of time. Three hours and we have a big steaming pile of nothing."
"We're rechecking everything. Of course we were thorough, that's our job. We must have missed something though, so we just have to keep digging until we find it."
Dean rolled his eyes as he got into the car, "Thank you, Ellen. I wish I had your unflagging optimism."
They went to the homes of the other two victims and interviewed the grieving families. Actually, George Morgan's wife didn't seem very sad. It seemed his brutality hadn't ended with tasering suspects. The other one, John Asher, was every bit as obsessed with hunting as they had thought. He had a massive gun rack in his front room, and stuffed heads adorned every wall. Dean commented that if they did that with their kills they would be called monsters and "be dumped in prison for life." They were very glad to leave it. Finally, they went back to James's house. They held up their badges as he opened the door, "Oh no. Not you guys. Go away! I never want to see you again!" Dean stopped him as he tried to close the door, "Why not?"
"Why not? Isn't yesterday enouph reason? You people show up, then I get attacked by a shapeshifting hooker, then you kick down my front door and take it on like it's nothing, distroying my dad's house in the process. I just got out of the hospital, for shock and trauma. I couldn't even tell them why. Should I go on?"
"No. I think you've covered it." Sam spoke, "Please understand, we're just trying to find the thing that killed your dad and bring it to justice. Don't you want that?"
James crossed his arms, "My dad was a controlling, obsessed jerk. So the idiot went overboard with running, or-or got killed by some freak or whatever, I. Don't. Care," He paused, "You guys aren't FBI, are you." Dean stepped closer to the glaring man, "No we're not. We are a whole lot more helpful then those dicks will ever be. They're useless, believe me. Right Sam?" Sam shot him a look, then nodded. Dean continued, "Look, I know you don't like us, or care about your father, but this thing has already killed three people in this town, it killed your dad, it tried to kill you, and people will keep dying until we figure out what the hell is going on and stop it. Now will you help us?" He stared at them for a few seconds, then gave a miniscule nod. "Ok. Now, we need to check over this house. Anything unusual or out of place, you tell us about it. Got it?" James looked shocked, "What? Me?" Dean glared at him, "Yeah, you. You know what's in this house and where. We don't. What can I say, this is what you get for dating my brother."
"YOUR WHAT?!"
"-Now get moving."
Sam and Dean walked off to separate parts of the house, leaving behind an extremely confused and freaked out James, "Did- did he just say brother? I think he just said brother. Why would he say brother?"
"HEY! DUDLEY MOORE! LESS TALKING, MORE LOOKING!"
He started at Dean's voice and scuttled off, too frightened and confused to protest.
"SON OF A BITCH!" Dean yelled, slamming the front door behind them as they left. They had found almost nothing. Candy wrappers were the main thing. At least fifty, from all over the house. There was also a stake, apparently dropped and forgotten in the fight. Other than that, the house was clean. Sam rushed back to where his brother had started to pace James's front yard, "Come on, Dean. Let's go. We can go get some lunch," He glanced at his watch, "Or dinner, or whatever. I'll see what I can find online, recheck Bobby's research, and then we can see where we stand." Dean didn't seem to have heard him, "We are not playing this game with another trickster, do you hear me? This is not happening. I am finding this damn thing, and when I do, I am ganking its ass. And I'll enjoy it too. Do you HEAR ME, YOU BASTARD?! THIS IS WAR!" Sam grabbed his arm, "Sure, Dean, yeah, I know. But it's three-thirty. I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat, and I'll do some computer work." Dean glared and muttered under his breath, but he allowed Sam to lead him back to the Impala and climbed inside. Sam walked around too his side of the car, pausing to wave innocently at a couple of suburbanites that had stopped to stare at the insane man on the Smith's lawn, standing there yelling at the sky.
They stopped at a small diner. Per usual, Dean ordered a burger and fries, and Sam got a salad. Sam opened his laptop and connected to the diner wifi. He briefly wondered how it was that a tiny diner in a podunk town in the middle of nowhere would have that, but he had never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, or in this case about five large stables, concidering all the diners and $20 motels with free wifi he had run into over the years. He pushed the issue out of his mind and got on Google.
Finding information on real tricksters wasn't easy, but then, research never was. His salad sat off to one side, forgotten and untouched, as he became engrossed in his work. Dean spoke, "Hey, does anything about this picture seem wrong to you?" He tore his attention away from an article he had found to scan the diner, then shook his head, "Um, no. Looks normal to me."
"Check out the customer over there in the corner. You see that?" He located the individual Dean was talking about, a balding, rather mousy-looking man in glasses reading the paper, "Dean, It's just a guy."
"He's been sneaking glances at us since we walked in. And what full-grown man orders an ice-cream sunday and a strawberry milkshake?" Sam had to agree Dean had a point, "Okay, that is weird," He glanced back at the article he had been reading, "And Bobby's research checks out. He was right. Kill the trickster, reverse the tricks. Only way, unless, of course, the trickster himself desides to help out." Dean nodded and took another bite out of his burger, returning his attention to the suspicious man in the corner.
They waited until he left the diner, then quietly exited after him, leaving their payment on the table. They followed him for a few blocks, before pulling him into an alley. He started to beg, offering them his wallet and valubles if they would just let him go. Sam put a stake to his neck, "We know what you are, so don't bother."
"I-I don't know what you're talking about. My name is John Neville, I'm here on buisness. I don't have much with me but you're welcome to take it."
Dean spoke, sounding annoyed, "Oh, shut up. It's over. You're not walking away from this one, Fox. You're done. Finished. There's one thing I don't get, though. We killed you, I burned your body myself. So why are you still breathing?"
"Maybe because it wasn't me." The elderly man disappeared, leaving in his place a far more familiar face.
"Son of a- How?..."
"Always with the stakes. I thought we covered this last time. Those. Don't work on me." Sam stepped away in shock, "...Gabriel?"
He grinned, "Hi guys," He looked from one brother to the other, "What? I heard you two yahoos were in town, how could I resist."
Sam suddunly realized, "You did this to me."
The archangel stepped away from the wall, "There's that Winchester brillience, slowly clanking into action. Really, guys, you honestly thought a pagan god had the mojo for something like that? Come on!"
Dean moved towards him angrily, "You killed those people. Brer Fox never existed, did she."
"I didn't kill anyone. Brer Fox was real. Good job taking her out, by the way. In case you geniuses haven't figured it out yet, I'm not actually a trickster. Loki was witness protection; a role I was playing to fool the pagans, and dodge heaven. It was a perfect disguise, and now, thanks to you two, everyone knows who he is."
Dean smiled sarcasticly, "My heart breaks for you."
Sam broke in, "I don't understand. Lucifer stabbed you. We watched you die. How are you here?"
"You think Castiel is the only one on Daddy's nice list? Yeah, I died. In case you were wondering where angels go, I had a nice long chat with Dad, then He sent me back."
Dean chuckled darkly, "So, what, you're God's bitch now?"
Gabriel frowned, and for just a moment, Sam remembered exactly how powerful and dangerous he was. He was an archangel. One thought and they could be wiped off the map, "No. Well, yeah, from time to time He asks me to do something, but, what can I say? He's a fan of free will. He should be, He invented it."
Dean muttered, "I can't tell."
Gabriel whistled, "Wow. Seriously? You guys are the poster children for Dad-sanctioned free will. How much does He have to do for you, Dean, to earn your alliegence? No, better question, what, exactly, has He not done for you?" Dean glared at him, "Whatever. We're done." He motioned toward Sam, "Fix him, and let's go."
The archangel tilted his head, "Ummm, no. I don't think so."
"Why the hell not? You've had your fun."
"Because this isn't about 'fun.' This is about what you deserve."
"What?! Sam doesn't deserve this!" Dean yelled.
"You're right. He doesn't. You do. This is about you. That's why it's so mild. That's for Sam's sake, not yours. If I was to give you what you deserve, your precious Sammy would be on the ground right now, taking a stroll down memory lane."
Dean stared at him, "You wouldn't."
"Oh I would. Just. Like. That." Sam eyed him nervously as he snapped his fingers, "Lucky for you, I'm a nice guy."
Dean still looked shocked, "What'd I do to you?"
"Well let's see. You started the apocalypse, don't even try to pin that on Sam, it was all you. You got me killed, for nothing. But, the main thing is, you took my brother and you turned him into your pet. He was happy, following heaven's orders, then you came and ridiculed him for not having a mind of his own. So he rebelled, but not to have free will, oh no. He traded heaven's orders, for yours. You hypocrite! He helped you and helped you again and again. He threw away his entire life for you and how did you repay him? He asked you for help finding Dad and you laughed in his face. You used him. And I won't stand for it! You hear me? I WON'T STAND FOR IT!" Sam was starting to become genuinely concerned for their safety, "Um, Dean? Maybe we should go." Dean held up his hand in a staying gesture, "Look, first off, you weren't exactly supportive yourself. And while you're sipping pina coladas, there's an insane archangel trying to take over the universe. Where are you while Cas fights this out?"
"Um, I told you. This is just the sort of thing I left heaven to avoid, all the infantile squabbling and politics. Castiel's a big boy. He can take care of himself. The last thing he needs is another archangel getting in the middle of this. It'd be Michael and Lucifer all over again."
Dean smiled thinly, "Yeah. Okay fine. Whatever. Make all the excuses you want. Anyway, look, you can do whatever you want to me, but if Sam isn't part of this, let him go. Punish me, not him."
"Oh, but I am punishing you. Don't you get it? You don't care about yourself, just your darling Sammy. To get to you, I need to go through him. So I am. Still, I like to think of myself as a merciful man, so, I'll tell you what. You find me again, like this, so that we're talking face to face, and I'll fix him. That's the condition. That's the game. Find me, and we'll talk." He disappeared and Dean stood for a few seconds, glaring up at the sky. Then he turned to walk out of the alley, "Next time I see that son of a bitch, I won't be talking. I'm gonna shiv his ass."
Things were tense as they packed up the motel room. This unexpected turn of events complicated things, and neither was certain what to say. Dean walked out the door to put the weapons and his duffle in the trunk. Sam followed him out shortly after, set down his own duffle, turned to his brother and sighed, "Thanks."
Dean looked surprised, "For what?"
"Standing up to Gabriel back there. I mean, it was a miracle he didn't smite us into oblivian, but, thanks."
Dean stared at him, "Don't worry about it. You know, we are going to get out of this, Sammy." Sam started toward his side of the car, "Yeah, I know."
"I mean it. We'll find him, he'll fix you, and this will all be over." They climbed into the car.
Dean started up the Impala.
"DUDE LOOKS LIKE A LADY!"
Dean looked at Sam, then broke into laughter. Sam pleaded with his brother, "Come on, Dean. Turn it off," he said, wincing at how petulant he sounded. Dean turned the volume still higher and began to sing along, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as they drove out of town.