A/N: Fee: I can't tell if you think my Stryker is good or bad :P
Autumn: Borrow it. Seriously. Stryker becomes…well…he's a pansy in it. To put it bluntly.
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Advent - December 19th
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Dean yelps and dodges the swing, throwing his armful of papers out. They hit the man in the face and caused him to stumble.
Which is just as well, seeing as Dean leaps back and gets taken out by a chair.
Lying, winded on the ground, is probably not the best position to be in in this kind of situation Dean thinks.
He also thinks he should probably stand up and find something to defend himself with, but his body is being strangely uncooperative. What with the gasping for breath and oh, okay, there's a head wound as well.
Dean wipes the blood on his shirt as the papers flutter to the floor.
The man, and Dean's not sure that he is a man, really, what with the sudden appearance and use of sword as a go to weapon, takes a step forward and raises his sword.
Dean can see the sunlight glint on the polished blade. It doesn't seem like such a good thing now, but that might be because it's prettifying the thing about to kill him.
"Dean Winchester." The man says. Stating it like he knows who Dean is. Like he's always known Dean and that's just a little bit creepy.
"Hi there." Dean says with a grin.
It's the head wound.
It's totally the head wound.
Okay, maybe it's just him being a bit of a dick. But hey! The guy's trying to kill him! Dean thinks he can be as much of an asshole as he wants.
"Prepare to d-" The man starts to say but gets cut off when a frying pan takes him out.
Dean blinks. His breathing coming easier now, enough so that he can scrabble to his feet. He looks to Sam who is staring at his outstretched hand like it has a mind of its own.
At this point in his life, Dean really wouldn't be surprised.
Sam looks at him, still shocked at what he's just done.
"Really?" Dean asks. Because…well…really? It's the only question that he can think of, apart from "A frying pan?"
Sam shrugs slightly, "Worked, didn't it?"
Dean would answer, but the guy is back up and swinging. Literally.
Seems frying pans are no match against crazy sword wielding maniacs.
Dean scrambles back, this time not tripping over anything, dodging swing after swing.
"Sam!" He calls out as he ducks, barely in time.
The sword thunks into the doorframe and sticks. Jesus, it's gone in practically three inches. Dean's impressed, sort of, but he's also not going to stick around. Dean takes the opportunity to run into the living room whilst his would-be murderer struggles to free it.
"Sam." He calls again, just to let his brother know that, yes, he is still here and yes, he does have a crazy man trying to stab him so could Sam please hurry up and do something about it?
"I'm thinking!" Sam shouts back from behind the guy who has managed to finally free his sword.
Dean is both pleased and annoyed that the man is completely ignoring Sam.
Pleased because Sam is his baby brother and having a sword wielding nut job after him would just be bad.
Annoyed because why do these things always happen to him?
For fucks sake.
"Well think faster!"
"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam says in exasperation, "I'll just get our handbook out shall I?"
Great. He's about to die and his annoying brother is being glib with him.
Why is this his life?
If the last thing he hears is Sam being sarcastic then he's going to come back, again, and kill Sam himself.
"Or, you know," Dean snarks back, "you could just hit him with the frying pan again."
"Dean Winchester. You have ruined our plans for the last time." The man says as he settles into a stance.
Dean has a bad feeling about that stance. But it's not in his nature to back down to anything.
"Oh, I've messed up your plans have I?" He says as he raises an eyebrow.
"Yes."
"Well, good. Can't let the assholes have all the fun now can we?"
The man glares at him and Dean tenses, preparing to leap out the way if necessary.
"And that is why you wi-" The man is cut off again when the frying pan collides with the back of his head.
Again.
He staggers forward and falls to one knee as the pan starts to batter him about the head and shoulders by itself.
Dean stares blankly at his brother who is still standing in the kitchen, separated from them by the solid presence of the table.
Sam shrugs back.
"Really?" He asks. Dean thinks it's deserved this time. "That's an appropriate use of your mind powers?"
Sam smirks. "Well it's not like I want to get near him. He might stab me."
Dean wants to stab Sam. Dean thinks Sam knows this because Sam's smirk widens into a shit eating and completely unrepentant grin.
"Bitch."
"Jerk."
"That. Is. Enough!"
Dean and Sam both flinch and remember there is a man that wants to kill Dean in the room.
Said man in question is standing and breathing heavily, looking decidedly ruffled.
There's no sign of the pan. Then Dean spots it lying on the floor in a melted pile of slag.
Dean swallows. He doesn't think that that was caused by Sam's powers.
Suddenly he doesn't want to go up against the man anymore. Not that he wanted to in the first place, mind you. But a man that can melt a frying pan without him noticing isn't at the top of Dean's hand shake buddies.
"Uh," Dean says edging away as surreptitiously as possible.
The man doesn't even try to say anything this time, just leaps across the coffee table that separate them, sword pulled back.
Dean jumps and rolls sideways, wishing for his favourite shotgun.
The man almost clears the table, but it suddenly lurches up two feet and catches him right on the shins. The man lets out a frustrated yell as he careens headfirst into the wall.
Dean glances up to see Sam standing in the doorway to the kitchen with his fingers to his temples.
Dean's about to tell him that he looks like a bit of a douche when every single piece of furniture in the room starts to levitate.
"Whoa," Dean says instead, "cool."
Sam smiles, but it's strained and he's paling at a rapid rate. Dean would be concerned, but the man is up and coming at him again.
"Jesus." Dean says as he ducks and allows the sofa to swish over his head and slam into the guy, "Does he never give up?"
Sam doesn't answer. But that's more because he can't. He's leaning heavily against the doorframe now and there's a trickle of blood dripping from his nose across his lips and down his chin to his shirt.
Sam does grunt though when he loses control of the sofa and drops it on the guy, who cuts through it with his sword that is now glowing.
Holy shit.
Okay, Dean thinks, definitely not a regular human sword.
Some of the other bigger pieces of furniture are also starting to sag in the air, scraping across the ground.
It's obvious that, while Sam has been practising, he hasn't got full control of his powers just yet. Using them more like battering rams than anything else.
But it's still damn impressive.
Dean gets ready for another lunge, but the man has turned to face Sam with hate on his face.
"You," he says and Dean instantly wants to kill him for threatening his brother. The feeling gets worse when the man lunges at Sam and Sam is too weak to do anything but widen his eyes at the speed.
Dean doesn't even let out a yell, he just spear tackles the man mid-leap and sends them both into a lamp that's still struggling to float.
The man lands heavily on it and Dean feels it break beneath his weight.
That's gotta hurt, he thinks. But the man doesn't even seem to notice it which is just…wrong.
Dean's so distracted by this thought that he doesn't brace in time, so when the man arches up beneath him, Dean is thrown to the side. The man rolls on top of him and straddles him, lifting up his damn sword again.
Seriously, Dean's getting kind of sick of this.
But he's not going to go out without a few swings of his own. Dean pulls his fist back ready to try and get a punch to the face, and banishing all thoughts of déjà vu from his head, when the man mutters something unintelligible and Dean suddenly finds himself pinned to the floor.
The man glares down at Dean whilst he stands.
"I didn't want to do that," He says, "As it will alert my brethren, but at this point…" he trails off with a snarl and Dean's eyes widen when he finds he can't even squirm away from the point of the blade.
The man stabs down and it's all Dean can do to keep his eyes open.
He will not die with his eyes closed.
He doesn't have to.
There is a loud metallic clang as another sword appears just out of the periphery of his sight and knocks the first sword from stabbing Dean through the chest.
"Uriel." A voice says, and holy shit it gives Dean shivers.
The man who's been trying to kill Dean for the past ten minutes snarls and whirls on Dean's still unseen saviour.
"Castiel, what do you think you're doing?"
"I think that's a question I should be asking you."
And then it's just movement. Uriel darts across Dean's still prone form and there's a series of metallic clashes as the two men fight.
Dean hopes the guy with the voice wins. That voice should not be allowed to just not exist.
"You are going against the plan!" Uriel practically shouts, tension making his voice waver.
In contrast, Castiel's voice is calm and controlled. "I am following the orders Our Father gave me."
There's the sound of splintering and suddenly Dean finds he can move again. He rolls quickly out of the way of the sounds of the swordfight, keeping his head down in case he's misjudged it and the blades are swinging a lot closer than he believes.
He crawls over to Sam, who's slumped on the floor and staring at the fight looking completely stunned.
Once Dean's crawled past him and dragged his unresisting brother further into the kitchen and out of the way of any sharp instruments, he turns to see what Sam is staring at.
And then promptly finds out why Sam is so enthralled.
The two men are little more than blurs, coming together and leaping apart. Their swords flashing in the dying afternoon light as they each try to kill the other.
Or at least, that's what it looks like to Dean.
There's a brief moment when their swords lock with an explosion of sparks and Dean gapes.
The man! Castiel! It's the same person who appeared out of nowhere and saved Dean getting stabbed by the daimon.
This is the second time he's saved Dean's life. Dean only hopes he's not keeping a tab.
Only…it's not the same guy. Because the first one glowed and had wings and this man most certainly doesn't. Unless he's hiding them somewhere.
"Stand down, Castiel." Uriel says.
Castiel tilts up his chin at the taller man, "Never."
Uriel's lips pinch together and he shoves with his sword, sending Castiel backwards. "Then you shall die."
Castiel just drops into a stance, sword at the ready and looking completely unperturbed at the thought of imminent death.
"No, Uriel. You are going against Father's will. Give this foolishness up."
Uriel laughs and flicks his blade. "You do not know what Father's will is, Castiel. You have been following my orders for far longer than you think."
Dean see's Castiel hesitate.
"The rest of our brothers and sisters will see the way," Uriel continues, "do not be a fool, Castiel. I am your leader, you are supposed to follow me."
There's a tense silence and Dean wonders in his saviour is going to listen to that bullshit and turn on the two of them. The longer nothing happens, the more relaxed Uriel is becoming, feeling safe in the knowledge that he's managed to get through to the other.
Dean is just about to start searching for a weapon of some sort – which really, is kind of a stupid idea because hello! Swords! – when Castiel's Will hardens and he says, with an air of determination, "The only one I follow is my Father." And flies forward at such a speed that Dean's eyes can't process it.
One moment he's standing on one side of the room, the next Castiel is in front of Uriel with his sword piercing the taller man's heart.
Uriel has only a moment to look surprised before his eyes roll up in his head and he falls backwards.
When he hits the floor there's a blinding flash of white light and Dean instinctively closes his eyes. He can still feel them searing through his eye lids.
He blinks them open a minute later. And then keeps blinking to get the spots out of his vision.
The first thing he sees is Sam doing the same.
And then Dean realises that there's still a man with a sword in his living room. Sam seems to realise the same thing as they use each other to stand and shakily make their way to the doorway to see the damage.
And there's a lot of damage.
Sam is still a lot worse off than Dean and still bleeding from the nose, so Dean helps prop him up against the door jamb again, and then turns his attention to the man who keeps saving him.
Castiel.
Castiel who is, against all odds, standing in the middle of the warzone that used to be Dean's very nice living room and staring back at him.
"Uh." Dean says.
"Are you hurt?" Castiel asks.
Dean wants to immediately deny any and all injuries, but he doesn't think he can get away with it this time. The man's clear blue eyes seem to compel him to tell the truth.
And no, it's got nothing to do with how nice those eyes look when they're staring at Dean.
So Dean takes a few seconds out to catalogue all the pain he can feel. It's surprisingly little for what he's just been through.
"Nope." He says, "All good. Now who the hell are you? This is the second time you've saved my life now."
Castiel inclines his head a fraction and relaxes.
"My name is Castiel." He says solemnly, "And I am an Angel of the Lord."
Sam sucks in a shocked and awed breath besides him and Dean wants to laugh because of course – of course – this happens to him.
Three months ago he would have laughed at anyone who told him they'd seen an angel. Angels don't exist.
And then he'd sold his soul to a goddess and fought things that he'd never knew existed. And he's seen Castiel wings with his own eyes.
It's kinda hard to argue against yourself.
"Okay," Dean says, pleased with how well he's taking this, "but why me?"
Castiel takes a step forward. "Because you are the reason I exist." He says, which does all sorts of weird things to Dean's stomach and dude! People don't just say those sorts of things!
Except Dean doesn't get the chance to say anything because suddenly there's another flash of light – this one not nearly as blinding as the first – and Thorn is standing in their living room.
"Alright," Thorn snaps, "Just what is going on here? Why am I getting all sort of weir-" he cuts himself off when he finally focuses on the room.
Dean has to admit, it doesn't look good.
As well as every single piece of furniture being broken, there are sword slashes marring the walls and floor.
Thorn's eyes scan over the room with a weird sort of horrified awe and then he reaches Sam, who is slumped and shaking and wearing a shirt stained with blood, and then his attention jerks to the only other person in the room who, coincidentally, is the only one with a weapon.
Castiel's eyes widen.
Thorn's eyes turn blood red.
Dean is not surprised when Thorn manifests his own sword and charges.