It's been a while, so to recap: Dean faced down the archangel Michael and acquired angelic abilities. Using those abilities, he has cured Sam of being infected with demon blood as an infant, leaving Sam in an almost constant state of euphoria. The archangels Gabriel (who doesn't believe Sam has been fully cured) and Raphael (who hunts demons) are somehow involved with Michael in an angels' court case against Sam for being under demonic influence. Bela is after Dean's amulet and Ruby wants Sam to form an anti-legion. Then there's Hillary, Bobby's mastiff, who seems to be able to communicate with Dean and really likes belly-rubs from Sam. Bela and Ruby have made appearances and since this is AU, so are they. (If you didn't like them before, I think you'll enjoy what I have planned for them.)
Chapter Thirty-four
Bobby wished he was as much into the hugging thing as John had been. Right now Dean looked like he could use a really good hug, and there was no John here to do it. Bobby sure as, well, you know, wasn't going to.
"Course it scares you," he told the boy instead, "you'd be a damn fool if it didn't." Bobby stood to pace, securing his hat back on his head. "You're learning things no human being was ever meant to know. Hell, just knowing that you're going through it scares me half to death!"
The chuckle from Dean stopped his frantic pacing. "Dude, you're gonna wear a hole in the floor." Dean rubbed his forehead like a headache was coming on. "I didn't mean to worry you, Bobby. Relax, okay?"
Bobby stared at the youngster. His brow was creased like it was a bad headache and Hillary, softie that she was, had her head in his lap like she was trying to help. "What's wrong? Headache?"
Dean shrugged. "It'll pass in a minute. Always does." Both hands rubbed at his temples while Hillary made a grunting noise, nuzzling Dean's leg.
"Always does?" Bobby tried to remember. Didn't Sam warn him about something? "Wait a minute. Did I say something to cause it? Sam told me I needed to watch my language." The lack of answer was all the answer Bobby needed. "So watching my language prevents headaches?"
Dean's face relaxed a little as he nodded. "Unfortunately."
A knock at the door prevented a continuation of this surprisingly enlightening conversation. Bobby peered at the person standing outside his door.
"Anybody we know?" Dean's voice came from behind him.
"Yep." Bobby opened the door. "Raphael. What brings you back so soon?"
The angel stepped into the house. "Dean. Good, I wanted to talk to you. The trial is scheduled to come up soon and you and Sam really should meet with your defender."
Dean shrugged. "Sounds good. Who's the defender? Mike?"
Raphael looked stricken as he shook his head. "I take it you're not aware of court procedures?"
"Court procedures? For angels?" Bobby asked. Seriously, this was more fascinating than ancient anti-possession rituals.
"I take it our defender isn't you either?" Dean asked, standing. Hillary looked a little put out about being moved.
"Maybe you should sit back down," Raphael suggested. "I don't think you'll want to be standing for this."
Sam figured he should have known something was wrong when he found Bobby standing by the road, waiting for him. The tense look on Bobby's face didn't exactly instill confidence, either. Sam stopped the car so Bobby could ride the rest of the way back to the house.
"Bobby? What's wrong?" Sam asked as he leaned over the seat, motioning for Bobby to get in.
Bobby climbed into the passenger seat, gave Sam a disgruntled look. "My house has been invaded."
Sam waited for further explanation, but Bobby seemed content to seethe in the passenger seat.
"Invaded by what, Bobby?" Sam asked. He pulled up to the house. The only other cars were Bobby's and the rusted hulks that surrounded them. Hillary lay on the porch, glaring at the front door. She didn't even acknowledge the Impala.
Bobby crossed both arms over his chest. "Archangels," he muttered.
Now Sam did look over, in surprise. "And you're not in there pumping them for information?"
Bobby snorted, glared out the window. "As if they'd tell me a damn thing. But drink my holy water beer? Oh, yeah, that doesn't bother them in the least."
"Uh, what about Dean?" Sam wondered how his brother was coping with a houseful of archangels. Come to think of it, Bobby didn't say which ones were there.
Bobby snorted in response. "You'd think he grew up talkin' ta angels, the way he's acting." Bobby rolled his eyes. "I don't think he even believed in 'em as a kid."
"Which archangels, Bobby?" Sam persisted. He really didn't know if Dean had believed in them before meeting Michael.
"Ralph and Gabby," Bobby said with a sneer.
Sam put the car into park. "Gabby?" Realization dawned slowly. "You mean Gabriel?"
Without waiting for an answer, Sam bolted from the car for the house. Dean and Gabriel, in a confined space, together. No matter how he looked at it, it was a BAD thing. Sam threw the door open to the sounds of laughter, Hillary on his heels.
"Hey, Sam!" Dean's voice called out from the den. Sam followed it to find Dean leaning over the back of Bobby's couch, between Raphael and Gabriel, and they all held beers dripping with condensation. Dean's eyes had that soft green glow that meant there was holy water in the beer, Gabriel's glowed gray while Raphael's eyes had a golden brown hue.
"What took you so long?" Dean asked, straightening up. "You didn't have any trouble with the car, did you?"
Sam shook his head. "It's running fine. That's something I want to talk to you about later, though."
Dean gave him a quick nod of recognition. Since it concerned the car, Sam felt confident that his brother would bring it up later. "So what kept you?" His eyes dropped to the dog. "Didn't I ask you to wait outside?"
Hillary whined, dropping her head. Sam rubbed the dog's head as he shrugged, glaring at Gabriel. "Just ran into somebody at the store who wanted to talk. Why is she here?"
"Uh, Sam?" Next thing he knew, Dean's hand was on his elbow, steering him out of the den. Bobby tromped through the front door with Sam's grocery bags. "You might want to ease up on the anti-Gabriel stuff for a while."
"Why?" Bobby asked, shoving some of the bags towards Dean. Sam snatched them first, not wanting his brother to carry anything with that bad back.
"Yeah, why, Dean?" Sam echoed.
Dean let out a long sigh. "Because…she's your defense attorney."
"She's what?" Bobby shouted. After a number of dirty looks and hand gestures, Dean convinced them to go into the kitchen. He gave the dog a strong look and she sat just outside the kitchen door.
Sam dropped his bags on Bobby's kitchen table.
"What the hell you talkin' about, boy?" Bobby demanded. Dean flinched, rubbed his forehead with one hand. Since Bobby didn't look the slightest bit contrite about causing Dean a headache, Sam decided it had to have been on purpose, to make a point.
"I was hoping it would be Michael," Sam said.
Dean jumped up to sit on the kitchen counter while Sam put his groceries away. "That's the way they used to do it. Actually, they used to have a regular DA who handled all the prosecutions."
"Used to?" Sam asked. "What happened?"
"Civil war," Dean replied. "Gee, Sam, I thought you were the one who had all that kind of crap memorized."
"Wait," Bobby said, arms crossed over his chest. "Are you talking about Satan? God's DA?"
Sam paused in putting away the instant oatmeal. "So now what? They take turns being DA?"
"Kind of." Dean shrugged. "Now they have to defend the opposite viewpoint of what they believe. See, Michael doesn't think Sam here is a threat, so he's the DA. Gabby wants Sam put away, so she's the defense attorney."
"I don't think I like that," Sam said slowly.
"Makes sense, though," Bobby said thoughtfully. "If they're forced to see the other side's viewpoint, maybe there won't be another split."
Dean nodded. "That's the idea." He snatched a bag with grapes, popped a few in his mouth. "Man, these are good. What are they?"
"Uh, grapes?" Sam said in the best 'duh' voice he could. "You know, what raisins are before they're all dried out?"
"No kidding?" Dean stared at the bag in his hand. He shrugged. "Well, I like 'em better like this."
A couple of grapes found their way into the air, one landed perfectly in Dean's mouth while the other bounced off his cheek, headed for the floor. Sam caught it in the air, put it in his own mouth, returned to putting away his groceries. He knew Dean was capable of forcing the grape to land in his own mouth, he had to be if he could make remote controls hover in the air, so this must be more sporting.
"Isn't there some way of getting a different defense attorney?" Sam asked, sliding the last box of instant oatmeal into Bobby's cabinet.
"Nope. It's got to be the one who is the most against it." Dean glanced around, as though there might be more to put away. "Guess you don't need any help, huh? Better come into the den, Sam. Gabby needs to talk to you."
Dean hopped off the counter, headed for the kitchen door. He paused before walking through the door. "Hang on." He turned around, his eyes glowing. "Do I look like I've been hitting the holy water?" he asked.
Sam and Bobby exchanged a confused look. "Uh, yes?"
"Good." Dean made a move with his head that Sam knew meant 'get your ass in there.' He followed big brother into the other room, dreading this.
"When did you switch from Gabe to Gabby?" Sam whispered.
"When she became your attorney," Dean hissed, bright grin covering his face. "Be nice."
Sam found himself wishing for some of that euphoria now, it might help him deal with 'Gabby.' Dean was right, she was a total bitch, and he suspected that she hadn't put everything back right in his head. Since Gabriel had been in his head, Sam had been experiencing some disturbing dreams.
Sam stood in front of the archangels, resenting this. Why should he have to defend himself? What business did angels have meddling in their lives anyway? Sam cleared his throat before speaking, attempting to sound civil. "Dean said I need to talk to you."
Gabriel's smile dropped away as she looked at him. "Yes, Sam. We need to talk."
The weight of Hillary against his leg shouldn't have been as comforting as it was.
Ruby brooded over the meatsuits of two demons on her list. Yes, she kept a list. It was in her head, she wasn't stupid enough to write down which demons she planned to kill. The two on top just bit the dust, but that wasn't the cause for her brooding. She was brooding over Sam Winchester.
Sam Winchester. Handpicked by Azazel, Satan's right hand, to lead the demon legion in taking over Earth, humanity. Sam Winchester, their anti-christ, was a wimp. A total and complete wimp. His brother Dean would have been a much better choice. At least Dean was tough, sure, deadly. Why was there so much talk about Sam? The guy spent fifteen minutes picking out instant oatmeal, for the love of...
Ruby rubbed a hand across her aching temples. Being in the body of a woman with brain cancer wasn't all she'd thought it would be. The headaches were a bitch. Sure, her host was willing, but that didn't mean it was worth it. Although with a willing host Ruby could do more than the other demons, so maybe it was worth it. She mumbled an incantation to help with the pain. It eased, enough to allow her to open her eyes. She needed to leave, being found with the dead bodies of a priest and his mistress wouldn't be good. The local yokels would probably peg her as some kind of serial killer. Ruby didn't need any attention, not from humans or demons, not with her plans.
The headache too bad to withstand her preferred means of travel, Ruby walked. She made it to the road outside of town before a car picked her up. Ruby needed to get back to Sam Winchester. He had the name recognition she needed, even if he was a wimp.
Bela checked into one of the nicer hotels in Singer's hometown, and she would hate to see what one of the bad ones looked like. Next she would scout out Bobby Singer's place, see if he had any contact with Dean Winchester. Poor boy had no idea what that trinket around his neck was worth, or he would undoubtedly have sold it long ago.
She would have to be cautious, because Bobby Singer was not a man to be trifled with. Bela had run across his path a few times in the past and made certain not to cross him. She had, however, managed to procure a ringside seat to Bobby Singer being trifled with by someone else. Well, admittedly, it had been a little more than a trifle. Bobby had not retaliated with violence, the way she imagined Dean Winchester would have in the same situation. Instead he sat back, made a few phone calls. Within weeks, that particular individual could not find anyone willing to sell him supplies or back him up on hunts. In their business, Bobby Singer effectively sentenced the man to death. Very clever. He didn't even have to risk his own neck or anyone else's.
Singer owned a salvage yard. Interesting. He actually had a visible means of support. So many of these hunters lived on the fringe of society, procuring what they needed when they needed it, however they could. Singer was something of an anomaly, which was disturbing. Bela could handle regular hunters, it was the anomalies she had to watch out for. There was no telling what they would do.
Bela kept her inquiries quiet. This was Singer's town, he must have friends here. She found his salvage yard easily enough. Now all Bela had to do was stake it out, see who came and went. The Winchesters would have to contact Singer at some point, if they really were confederates. Those crazy boys didn't seem to trust anyone. If they actually trusted Singer, they would contact him eventually. Perhaps she could wire his phone.
She drove on, intending to find a half-way decent place to eat. There had to be some low-grease food someplace in this town. Then she would get down to work.