Chapter 15

We managed to get everything finished and cleaned up about half an hour before people were due to arrive. The main course was sitting on the dining table in covered chafing dishes, the desserts were arranged on the sideboard, and appetizers and snacks were out on the breakfast bar. Three coolers, one each for soda, beer, and other alcoholic beverages, rested in front of the French doors. We'd all washed up and changed and were now relaxing in the family room. Dean was once again wearing his antlers and had stuffed a Santa's hat on top of my head.

Castiel was the first guest to show up, popping into the doorway between the foyer and family room with his customary soft rustle of feathers. He looked around for a moment, taking in the lit tree and decorations, the cozy gas fireplace, and holiday music playing from the stereo, before focusing on the two of us.

"Hello, Sam, Dean. I hope I am not too early."

We'd both stood when he appeared, and Dean stepped forward to hug him first. "Nah, you're fine, Cas. That award goes to Crowley, who came here a coupla hours ago."

"There were extenuating circumstances though," I added after hugging him myself.

"I know that you said that a gift was not required, but it is customary to bring something for a housewarming gathering," Cas said earnestly. "I had noted previously that there are few healthy plants remaining in your gardens after the years of neglect. So I have brought cuttings and seedlings from the Garden for your yard—with Joshua's permission, of course. Many of the plants have curative or protective properties. I put them in the back of your garage for now, and I can assist with planting them later."

"Wow, that's awesome, dude! We ain't thought much 'bout the yard yet. But ain't it a little early in the season to plant anything?" my brother asked. "I mean, it ain't freezing or anything, but it ain't warm."

The angel shook his head. "These plants are hardier than their mundane counterparts and can withstand much worse conditions than you experience here."

"Okay then. We can plant them in a day or two, whenever this rain lets up," I said. "For now, grab a drink, take a seat, and relax!"

Cas started towards the sofa, then paused and stared nonplussed at Hannibal, who was curled up on an enormous dog bed in front of the fireplace, happily gnawing on what Dean was convinced was a dinosaur bone. "Dean, Sam, I do not mean to alarm you, but you seem to have a juvenile hellhound in your house."

Dean moved over to the hearth and scratched behind the dog's ears. "Yeah, meet Hannibal. He's ours now."

"A housewarming cum wedding gift courtesy of yours truly," Crowley announced as he emerged from the kitchen with a glass of Scotch. "Don't bother saying anything. We've already been through the 'blah, blah, they're too dangerous' bit with the old fool over there."

"Get stuffed, asshole," Bobby replied pleasantly from the love seat.

I rolled my eyes as I made my way to the coolers. "The two of you are going to end up either killing each other or making out—you know that, right?"

"Bite your tongue, boy!" Bobby barked, while Jody burst out laughing beside him.

"Afraid I'm too much man for you, are we?" the demon asked snidely.

Before Bobby could erupt, the doorbell rang. My brother remarked as he hurried to the door, "Saved by the bell!"

He soon returned with Garth in tow, exclaiming, "Look what the cat dragged in!"

Garth beamed at all of us. "Hi there, Sam, Bobby, Miss Jody. And of course Cas and Mr. Crowley. I'm glad I'm not the first one here! I always feel awkward when that happens, like everyone's staring at me."

"Glad you could make it, man. Welcome to our new house." I stepped forward to shake his hand and got pulled into a hug instead.

"I gotta say, I'm really impressed with how this place looks," Garth said after he let go. "I would've thought it would've been totally trashed after hosting a poltergeist for nearly a decade. But you guys got it looking fine after only a month!"

"Closer to five weeks, and it's only this floor so far. We still gotta put down paint and varnish upstairs and redo that bathroom. And we ain't touched the basement yet—we wanna put in a panic room and vault like Bobby's, a workshop, and maybe a practice room for sparring.

"We also got lucky that the house was in way better shape than it shoulda been in. Old man Warner built it pretty sturdy, and we think his spirit protected it from the worst of the damage after he passed. Most of what we found was pretty superficial," Dean explained.

"And we had a lot of help too. Bobby, Jody, and Cas all pitched in, and we wouldn't have finished in time without them," I added.

"Well, I brought you something. It ain't much, but I hope you like it. My gran used to hang all these different charms in front of her windows and doors to keep the evil spirits out. Nothing bad ever did come to her house, but that mighta been 'cause even ghosts weren't dumb enough to mess with my gran. So I dunno if these work or not, but at least they're pretty. I got one for each door," the skinny hunter said.

He handed me a brightly wrapped box. Inside were three wind chimes, each of which were composed of an elaborately enameled hamsa, from which hung small brass prayer bells, which in turn had cobalt glass nazars hanging from their clappers.

"Dude, these are gorgeous! Dean, come take a look!" I held one out to my husband.

He carefully took it and tapped one of the bells to hear it chime. "This is a pretty awesome gift, Garth! We're gonna hang these babies up tomorrow for sure."

Not long after that, a rush of people showed up in fairly quick succession. First was Collin, his wife Anne, and Myra, and they gave us several framed art prints inspired by some of Dean's and my favorite movies. Then Rufus came, bearing a warded gun safe and a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label. Next were Mark, Raul, Karen, and her husband Frank, who'd all come together in Frank's SUV. Dean's co-workers, including Collin and Myra, had all chipped in together to get us a self-propelled lawnmower. Last to arrive were several of our neighbors—Miranda and Alice, the retired couple who lived to our right, Mike, a single dad who was our other next-door neighbor, and Dineth and Presha, a young couple from further up the street. They brought a lovely dichroic vase, a couple bottles of wine, and a Cuisinart, respectively.

Once we'd greeted everyone and made sure they were set up with drinks and snacks, we pulled Bobby and Jody aside. Dean then asked, "Are we waiting on anyone else? 'Cause I'd like to serve dinner soon. I know that Missouri had family obligations and couldn't make it."

"Same with Melissa. She and her dad headed up north to spend the holiday with her brother," Bobby added.

"Dr. Visyak told me she was coming but would be a little late, so I don't think we need to wait on her," I said.

Bobby suddenly looked a bit consternated. "Damn, you invited Ellie? Don't get me wrong—she's a fine woman. But she and I have some . . . history, and she don't exactly remember me kindly. Might be a bit awkward, especially her seeing me with Jody."

"Well, there won't be a problem on my end. She's been willing to help Sam out, which makes her okay in my book," Jody said firmly.

"I'm with Jody on this one, old man. If you gotta eat a little crow to keep the peace, then suck it up." My brother turned to me. "I'm gonna check the chafing dishes to make sure everything's still good. I figure we can announce the food is ready in another fifteen or twenty. Sound good?"

"Yeah, that works. While you're checking the food, I'll take the folks who haven't been here before on the nickel tour of the house. By the time that's done, it should be time to eat," I responded.

I led Garth, Rufus, Dean's co-workers, and our neighbors through the house, starting first with the main floor and then the unfinished second story and basement, making sure to give an appropriate spin to our plans for those spaces for the civilians. When asked about the newness of the furniture and lack of many personal touches, I explained that with how frequently we previously had to move for work, it was simpler to rent furnished apartments or use extended-stay hotels. Everyone seemed impressed with our home, particularly considering how much we'd accomplished in such a short time.

As we were walking back to the dining room, Collin told me, "Man, I can't believe this is the same place, 'specially considering its rep. When we first heard you were buying the Warner House, there was an over-under 'bout how long you'd last. Everyone in Veneta has heard the stories, and no one's managed to do anything here since Tony passed. Not saying that I believe in ghosts and shit like that, but the stories outta here weren't just from kids and vagrants, ya know?"

"I don't know how the stories about this house got started, but things like that are sometimes a self-fulfilling prophesy. People come in expecting something bad or unusual to happen, so they're more likely to overreact to even small incidents. And then the stories get overblown with each retelling. There are classes at the university on the whole psychology of folklore," I said with a straight face.

"Well, you'd know best, Professor! Still, this place looks damn good."

I thanked him as we entered the dining room. Inside, the chafing dishes were uncovered and steaming, the aromas of the food wafting through the air. The spread included turkey with gravy, ham with a pineapple glaze, sausage stuffing with cranberries, onions, peas, and carrots, herbed corn, green bean casserole, scalloped potatoes, baby carrots in a dill sauce, and penne alla vodka. Holiday-themed paper plates, napkins, and utensils sat at one end of the table.

Dean looked up from setting out serving spoons and forks in front of each chafing dish. "You guys are just in time. Food is ready, so grab a plate!"

Everyone hurried to line up in front of the dining table. I withdrew, figuring I'd let the guests serve themselves first before getting my own food. I eventually filled a plate and took a seat at the breakfast bar beside Miranda and her wife.

"This food is fantastic," Miranda gushed. "Where did you get it catered from?"

"We didn't, ma'am. Dean cooked everything, including the desserts, with help from Jody," I replied.

Alice asked, "Do you cook too?"

"Oh no, I'm not allowed to make anything more complicated than a sandwich," I said. "Dean is convinced I'll set either myself or the kitchen on fire. I think he'd prefer the first out of the two—this kitchen is his new baby, right after the Impala."

"I understand he also fixed up those gorgeous muscle cars you both drive. Is there anything your husband can't do with his hands?" Miranda had a naughty gleam in her eye as she spoke.

"Don't ask him to draw. But other than that, not much," I said with a grin.

The doorbell rang again, and I quickly excused myself to let Eleanor Visyak in. Her gift was primers on translating several obscure ancient dialects to add to our growing lore collection. There was some awkwardness when she first ran into Bobby, but soon she and Jody were deep in conversation. From the older hunter's put-upon expression, I deduced that they were comparing notes about him.

Once I finished eating, I sought out my brother. He was looking particularly fetching tonight. The dark green Henley top he was wearing brought out the color of his long-lashed eyes and the shine of his dark gold hair, and his fitted jeans hugged his curved ass and strong thighs. Those wide eyes were sparkling and his full lips smiling in enjoyment at the gathering. And each time the bells on those damn antlers chimed, I flashed back to heated images from the day before.

I pulled him into the butler's pantry and kissed him hard. Those antlers have been driving me nuts all evening, Dee, I growled as I captured his lips again.

You're gonna hafta keep it under control for a while longer, little brother. 'Cause I ain't risking one of the guys from work or the nice next-door ladies catching me here with my dick out! he said breathlessly when I came up for air.

I leaned my forehead against his. I know, I know. At least the party is a hit—everyone loves the house and the food. And Hannibal has spent most of the time on his back, getting belly rubs!

We better get back then, before the damn puppy convinces everyone to give him their turkey!

By a couple of hours later, most people were done eating. Except for Garth, who I was convinced must have a tapeworm (Dean leaned more towards alien symbiont and was already calling it Dax). Everyone was relaxed, having a drink, engaging in conversation. Some had cleared off one end of the dining table and were playing a board game Mike had brought with him. Others were watching and laughing as Mark and Frank attempted to teach Hannibal to play dead.

Castiel came over to me, looking concerned. "Sam, my brother is outside your fence and requests admittance."

"It's okay, Cas. We were kind of expecting this to happen." I patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Let me go get Dean."

I found my brother in the kitchen, rinsing some glasses. He took in our expressions and asked, "What's up?"

"Our favorite party-crasher is outside. Cas and I are going to talk to him. You want to join us?"

"Nah, I'm trying to clean up in here. I wanna get the food outta the chafing dishes before shit dries out and pack 'em in Tupperwares. I'll leave the containers out in case Garth and Dax ain't done grazing," he said. "I trust you to keep your cool out there and not nut our tricksy friend too badly if he decides to act like an asshat. And I trust Cas to back your play however it goes."

I nodded, and the angel and I went outside and down the driveway. Sure enough, Gabriel was standing nonchalantly in front of our fence, the stick of a lollipop hanging from his lips. As soon as we reached the sidewalk, he removed the Tootsie Pop from his mouth with a grin.

"Hey, Sam the man, how's it hanging? Did ya like the ornament I left here a few days ago? Spitting image of my little bro here, ain't it?"

Castiel give his best version of what my brother called my "bitch-face." "Yes, Gabriel, the tree topper was very humorous."

I gave the archangel an unamused stare. "What do you want? I don't have time for your bullshit."

Gabriel assumed an injured expression. "Hey, I thought we were buds and all after the wedding!"

I glared at him. "We weren't going to let anyone ruin our big day, dumbass, including you. So we played nice instead of arguing over which testicle of yours we were going to rip off first. It didn't mean you were forgiven by any means.

"Yes, you did help us against Lucifer by getting us out of that hotel and giving us the message about the keys. But then you ran and hid again. We could've used an archangel on our side, on humanity's side, for the big showdown, but you chose to take the coward's way out and stuck your fucking head back in the sand. And you're still hiding! It isn't all hymns and roses up in Heaven right now, you know. Cas says there's a faction, led by Raphael, that wants to start the damn Apocalypse all over again so they can remake our planet the way they want. Michael is currently keeping them down, but you helping him out could make a huge difference. Instead, you're still running around down here, teaching petty lessons to minor-league assholes and banging illusionary babes.

"And on a more personal note—yes, the honeymoon you sent us on was phenomenal. But that's not enough to make up for what you did to us before, not by a long shot. I don't care about the petty annoyances of our first encounter, or those embarrassing fake TV shows and commercials. But if you think I'm ever going to forgive you for killing my brother in front of me over a hundred times, and for forcing me to live without him for those six months, then you're seriously goddamn delusional!"

For the first time in my experience, Gabriel completely dropped the humor, snark, and innuendo and looked at me seriously. "Listen, Sam, I know I fucked up badly before, maybe irredeemably. I had all these excuses in my head 'bout why I didn't do more against Lucifer. Like how I still didn't wanna help one of my brothers kill the other, even though I knew that wasn't what you were planning to do. Or that you had everything under control without me, and that I'd step in if you guys got in trouble.

"Truth is, you're right—I was afraid. Afraid of giving up the life I've built here, afraid of committing myself too much, afraid of really going against either of my elder brothers. I'm glad it worked out in the end, but I am sorry that I didn't do more.

"But the reasons that I left Heaven in the first place still hold for why I haven't returned. I refuse to help my brothers fight one another, and it doesn't matter if it's Michael versus Raphael now instead of Michael versus Lucifer. And I don't want to get sucked back into the politics and worse, the regimented order. D'ya know how long it took me to break outta that programming and become my own man? No way I'm ever going back to being a drone!"

"You're just coming up with more excuses, you fucking chickenshit, and you know it!" I said disgustedly. "The situation is very different than before. Neither Michael nor Raphael is trying to hurt one another. From what Cas has gathered, Raphael won't make a move unless he thinks he can overpower Michael's side. If you join up with Michael, that will be two archangels opposing him, which might make Raphael and his supporters rethink their position. If you really want to make sure none of your brothers need to kill each other, and if you're really on humanity's side, then you need to do everything you can to prevent Raphael from getting enough power to free Lucifer and start this whole mess again.

"As for your other concern, Cas here is proof that Heaven is a different place now. He stood up for himself and rebelled against his orders, and he was cast out for a time. But he's been accepted back with open arms, and no one's tried to make him toe the company line again. In fact, he's gotten more respect and clout for bucking the status quo, and he's been trying to use that to change Heaven for the better. He wants to convince the angels to go back to being guardians instead of merely aloof observers, and he could really use help with that."

The archangel beamed at Cas. "Really, Cassie? Way to go, little brother!"

"Do not call me Cassie—it is Castiel or Cas. Or I shall start calling you Gaby, and I will tell Dean to start using it too," the seraph snapped. "You still have not addressed what you did to Sam and Dean."

"Wow, you really have grown a pair, Cas!" Gabriel said admiringly, then turned a sober face toward me. "Ain't gonna lie—I was an enormous douchebag to you both. I got so caught up in proving you wrong that I didn't stop to realize I was worse than the problem. So I won't blame ya if you tell me to go to fuck myself.

"But I wanna make this right—if for nothing else, 'cause you guys always treated me decently, even when you were mad as hell at me. No sucking up or kowtowing when you found out who I really was, no trying to force me to pick one brother over the other, no hidden agendas. Just be a better man and save the world. You two are pretty damn impressive, and . . . and I'd like to be worthy of your respect someday."

"Would you be willing to give Gabriel another opportunity, Sam? I understand that he has done you much wrong, and simple contrition is not sufficient. But is forgiveness not one of the foundations of your bond with Dean? Your relationship is stronger now than ever in part because you have absolved each other of the mistakes and misunderstandings of the past." Cas gazed at me sincerely.

"And were you not willing to pardon my own grievous errors, in particular my refusal to defy commands I knew were wrong until it was almost too late? If I had developed a spine and told Zachariah to stuff it, as you and Dean would put it, earlier, Dean might have been able to warn you in time about the final Seal. But you have never held my weakness against me."

"It's not the same situation, buddy. You overcame your intrinsic nature, which probably took this guy centuries to do, in just a couple of months. You didn't know about your superiors' deceptions, and you came to us as soon as you did find out. We've never been anything but proud of you for that," I told him.

I sighed and looked at Gabriel again. "Alright, I'll give you a chance. You have been trying to make up for your mistakes and not be a total douche. More importantly, Cas is asking for this. You're his family, and he's our family. And family is everything to us."

I then stepped right up to him, grabbed the front of his shirt, and loomed over him. "Make sure you get this straight though, Gabriel. You're on probation right now with us. You try to pull any of your Trickster crap on us again, or do anything to cause my brother or anyone else we care about distress, and I will fry you in holy oil and serve you as a bucket of extra-crispy angel wings with a side of coleslaw.

"You may have all the power and strength of an archangel at your command, but you don't scare us. Dean and I put the Morningstar down after practicing with our abilities for only a few weeks. We've now had months to hone those same talents, and you're on our home turf, with all the defenses and contingencies we've built into this place. Not to mention the firepower and skills of the people we have at our backs. After what we've been through, taking you down won't make us break a sweat. We clear?"

"Yessir! You can be one scary dude, Sam Winchester." Gabriel tried to smile up at me placatingly.

I released his shirt and handed him a small amulet. "This will let you bypass the anti-angel protections on this place. It's currently active for only twenty-four hours, and I can reactivate it whenever you visit. You earn our trust, and maybe you'll get permanent free access like Cas has. Now follow me."

Once inside, I steered him straight to the kitchen, knowing that Dean also had words to say to him. The chafing dishes had been cleaned and were stacked up on the counter. Plastic containers of food sat on the island counter in case anyone wanted more. Dean was wiping down the rest of the countertop as we approached.

He put the towel down and eyed Gabriel skeptically. "You ain't walking funny, so I guess Sam didn't literally rip you a new one. I'm sure he's already said plenty, so I'll keep this quick.

"I don't care 'bout what you did to us at Springfield or Wellington—you were a dick, but we get worse from the monsters trying to kill us all the time. And I ain't upset for myself over what went down at Broward, 'cause I don't remember the shit you did to me. What matters a whole hell of a lot is that you put Sammy through a fuck-ton of pain. No one hurts my baby brother and gets away with it. Track down a coupla dumbasses named Walt and Roy to find out exactly how serious I am 'bout that.

"But since he ain't a little kid that needs me to beat up bullies for him anymore, I'm following his lead on this. If he wants to cut out your heart with a spoon, then I'm gonna find him the dullest, rustiest fucking utensil I can. Since you're here, he's obviously letting you try to prove you're more than a winged asshat with a douchey sense of humor.

"But if you ever try that kinda shit again on us or our loved ones, or if we find out you're still killing people to 'teach them a lesson,' then I'm gonna hunt you down. But I ain't gonna kill ya. I'm gonna turn you into angel jerky, feed you to my dog, and then watch you try to reconstitute yourself from hellhound shit. I'm gonna keep repeating that, maybe try out different flavors to see what Hannibal likes best, until I'm absolutely sure that you got the message. And remember this—I don't age, and I don't die easy, so I can keep that up for a long goddamn time. We green?" He ended with a nasty, sharp-toothed smirk.

"Super green," the archangel responded faintly.

Dean continued, "As for how you've been dropping the ball, you ever heard, 'With great power comes great responsibility?' You've got all this phenomenal cosmic power that you're doing jack-shit with. I don't give a fuck 'bout your family drama, or if it's easier to be the Trickster than do your duty in Heaven. You think we haven't had family issues—hello, have you met us? And d'ya think that we wanted to be itinerant vagrants, living in shitty motels on crappy food, getting our asses kicked on a regular basis by the monster of the week? We coulda been living high offa hustling big rollers in Vegas or pulling lucrative cons. But we got knowledge and skills that no one else has, so we do what needs to be done so that more people don't die.

"So pull your head outta your goddamn ass, sack up, and fulfill your damn obligations! And if you keep acting like a whiny bitch, I'm gonna sic them on you. They may not look intimidating, but that's a hell of a lotta mom voice in one spot—more than any one dude is capable of surviving." He pointed over to the sofa, where Jody was sitting with Anne, Karen, Alice, and Presha and going through our wedding album.

"Dean is not joking. Two of those ladies, Miss Karen and Miss Anne, cornered me earlier and made me comb my hair. They are far more formidable than they appear," Cas said seriously.

Gabriel threw his hands up. "Alright, alright, I get it! I'll go back with Castiel and see if I can't help Heaven get its ass back on track. But I'll be back, 'cause all work and no play makes Gabe a dull boy.

"On a less threat-filled note, I did bring you a housewarming gift. Here!" He handed me a plain envelope.

With my husband looking over my shoulder, I opened it and took out several sheets of paper, which turned out to be statements from our various credit cards. Dean's savings had paid for the majority of the renovations we'd completed, but for the remainder and for the furnishings, electronics, kitchen gear, and other things we'd bought for the house, we had to use the credit cards Frank had provided for the Smith-Wessons and open up a couple of store cards at places with low- or no-interest plans. This worried me some, as we couldn't afford to default on these payments. Dean was less concerned, as he figured a couple good hustles the next time we went on a hunt would cover us until he was bringing in a full-time paycheck and I started my job as a teaching assistant.

The statements I was holding were dated yesterday and showed that all the balances had been paid in full within the last week. The last sheet was a statement for our checking account, which listed a five-figure deposit made also in the previous week.

Before either of us could break our stunned silences, Gabriel said airily, "You don't hafta say anything. It's just money. With being around here for so long, I've got boatloads of the stuff, sometimes literally! I thought this would give you a clean start after all the work you've put in here, plus a little extra to cover the remainder of the renovations and line your nest."

"A little?" I spluttered. "Dude, you just gave us twenty grand, on top of what you put out to pay off our debts!"

"And you saved the entire freaking world and got a whole lotta bupkis for it!" he rejoined. "Don't worry—this is purely a gift. You don't owe me any favors or shit like that. If that sticks in your craw, consider it back pay for everything you've done gratis over the years."

"Man, this is way beyond what we were expecting," Dean said. "And right after we reamed you out . . ."

"Which I richly deserved! Like I said, don't worry 'bout it! Why don't you show me around the house? And show me where the desserts are!"

I led Gabriel on a tour of the house, while Dean took Mike, Frank, Miranda, and Garth to the garages to check out the Impala and GTO. Once everyone had reassembled in the family room, we began to exchange our favorite haunted house stories (natural given the history of our home). The hunters in the group didn't let on that the tales we told were of actual cases we or someone we knew had worked. Eventually Crowley murmured something to my brother, and they retired to the kitchen.

Dean returned with a tray of small glasses. After each person had taken a glass, Crowley went around and filled them with the rum we had given him from our honeymoon. He then stood in front of the fireplace and held up his glass.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to propose a toast. The bottle I poured from is aged Jamaican rum which Sam and Dean bought on their honeymoon and gave to me. My line of work doesn't normally allow the luxury of friendship. That the boys were willing to ignore our . . . differences and befriend me means a lot to me.

"Sam and Dean have done a great deal in service to this country and beyond and have sacrificed much as well. Therefore, it pleases those of us who've known them a while that they now get to enjoy what most people take for granted—steady jobs, a house, a dog, the whole bloody American dream. I can't think of many who deserve it more. So raise your glasses to the Smith-Wessons and a long, peaceful, happy life in their new home!"