"I seem to recall that we've already had this conversation. Smiting Raphael is good, go for that. Getting me involved? No, that's bad, we don't want to do that." Balthazar crossed his arms, staring Castiel down with wavering defiance.
"I hate to ask this Balthazar, you know that. But I need your help." Castiel pleading, wishing that he could spare his brother from the conflict. Balthazar was the closest thing he'd had to a friend in the garrison; they'd spent most of their time together as fledglings, barely old enough to hold a blade. Before Lucifer's fall, heaven had been a tranquil and light place. The seraphs were raised under the careful guidance of the archangels, even Raphael had been kind and caring, albeit a little stricter than Gabriel or Lucifer. But despite calling all angels 'brother', there were very few Castiel actually held in such high regard. One of them was staring him down with borrowed eyes. Those were the angles he was fighting for. He knew that their idealistic family was a distant memory, he was hopeful, not naïve.
"Not interested." Balthazar stated, turning to disappear from the darkened church. Castiel took hold of his arm with a strong but breakable grip.
"Hear me out." He asked, releasing his hold. Balthazar sighed but turned toward him anyway, inviting Castiel to continue. "You needn't get involved, it's your weapons I require."
"Oh wow and I actually felt special for a moment." Castiel raised an eyebrow in exasperation, couldn't Balthazar see that he was trying to protect him?
"If you transfer possession of your weapons over to me, you can escape and neither Raphael nor his followers will ever concern you again." Balthazar was silent for a moment, considering the offer.
"The problem is, Cassie, that wherever you go, Raphael is not far behind. What's to stop him, say, turning up and running off with all my nice shiny weapons? Then you'd be truly buggered." He had a point of course, Raphael already outnumbered him 5 to 1. If he got his hands on even a fraction of what Balthazar had, they might as well count the war lost.
"Then we'll need a distraction. Something to keep Raphael and his followers occupied while we move the weapons somewhere safe." Balthazar nodded slowly, a grin spreading across his face.
"I've got something guaranteed to keep old mopey arse off your tail. I'll set it up and meet you here-" he scribbled an address onto a disused napkin and offered it to him "-to take you to my hoard. Are you completely sure he can't see us here?" Castiel took the napkin and tucked it into his pocket.
"We're safe here for the moment, I assigned the appropriate sigils to keep us invisible but Raphael always finds a way." Castiel explained, glancing at the tarnished walls where the protection dwelled, hidden from sight.
"Alright, I won't be long." Balthazar said, his voice light and cheerful.
"Thank you, brother." Castiel replied, his words full of affection and gratitude for the wayward angel he once called the closest of kin. Balthazar waved his hand dismissively.
"What else could I do, I quite like the world and I don't want it to explode anytime soon. Don't expect me to drape myself in heaven's flag and charge on the front line." With that, he was gone, leaving Castiel alone once again in the unquiet darkness.
A shard of glass sliced through Sam's hand neatly as he shielded his eyes from the shattering window. The key Balthazar had given him dug into his other palm as he braced himself for the impact, too stunned to fully comprehend what was going on around him. He landed sharply on the ground and, to his great surprise, it yielded beneath him. Hands sinking into a smooth, pliable surface, Sam pushed himself up and gazed in astonishment at his surroundings. Lights glared from all directions, illuminating the studio past the point of visibility.
"What the fu-" Dean sputtered beside him, equally transfixed by their new surroundings. Sam checked himself over, searching for the cuts and tears the glass should have caused to his skin and clothes but he appeared completely unharmed. Even the gash on his hand was absent, as though it were healed by an angel. The two of them stood, ready to run or fight whatever reared its ugly head but nothing appeared. Harassed-looking PAs darted between people, offering coffee and snacks whilst avoiding the more important assistants that brandished clipboards with haughty determination. A huge black camera stared right at them, making Sam feel rather self-conscious. Behind it, two men appeared deep in discussion; neither spared a glance for Sam or Dean. He took a fragment of glass from the mattress beneath them and shook it, watching it wobble back and forth. Dean eyed the offending piece, befuddlement etched in his features.
"Moving on! That's a wrap on Jared and Jensen!" The younger of the two men called out. The studio was a flurry of activity as people made to clear away the set pieces behind them.
"Who the hell are-" Sam began but he was interrupted by a young woman with an earpiece.
"Jared! Three minutes, okay? Great." Before Sam could protest, she had him by the hand and was already leading him away. Faces flashed by as she manoeuvred him through the bustling studio but Dean's was not one of them; he was lost to the sea of weird Sam was drowning in. Freckled teenagers stumbled past him with armfuls of the most horrifying weapons and torture instruments, so out of place for the bright studio. A flash of scarlet on a rubber knife caught his attention but when he looked twice it was gone. The interviewer's grip was becoming vice-like on his hand and Sam collided with an elderly man as he struggled. As he turned to apologise, the words died in his mouth. The man grinned at him, his eyes a deep yellow. Sam jumped, his heart pounding in his throat as though he were choking on it. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a glimmer of golden hair darting through a doorway. He followed it without hesitation, the interviewer's grip shaken by the sudden movement.
"Jared!" She yelled after him but he was already out of her reach, chasing the brief glimpse of Gabriel through the studio as reality began to warp around him.
"Gabriel!" He called, trying desperately to ignore the faces of familiar archangels leering at him from every reflective surface. Gabriel stopped and turned but the moment their eyes met, Sam knew something was off. For one, Gabriel seemed to have acquired a good bit of stubble in the few days since Sam had seen him. His eyes were bright and friendly, showing none of the fatigue Sam had become accustomed to. Sam had to admit that Gabe looked…good. Very, very good in fact. Gabriel coughed pointedly and Sam blushed, only just realising that he had been staring.
"Sorry…I just mean, what are you doing here?!" He blurted out. Gabriel regarded him with complete bemusement.
"Gee, thanks Jared. I get it, just because my character was killed off last season…"
"What?"
"Do you pay attention to the show or just show up for the paycheck at this point?" Sam stared in bewilderment. This wasn't Gabriel that much was clear; he was actually capable of standing still. The smile was the same, full of mischief, but his manner was far more reserved.
"Tough question. So, yeah, it's nice to see you." He stammered, unsure of what to say under not-Gabriel's scrutiny.
"If you must know, I was just seeing Singer." He checked the area theatrically before leaning in close to stage-whisper. "They're thinking of bringing Gabriel back on the show!"
"Bringing him back?"
"Yeah, I don't know how they're going to do it, we saw Lucifer stab him in the heart! Wings on the ground, the whole caboodle. But they'll pull something, god knows the fans want it. You and Misha going to VanCon this year?" Sam hadn't the foggiest what VanCon or Misha were but he agreed anyway. Fans, characters, this was all beginning to seem very Carver Edlund. God, when he got his hands on Balthazar…
"Sam!" Dean's voice called him to attention from next to a perfect replica of Bobby's panic room, complete with metal cot. He made his excuses to non-Gabriel and ran towards his brother.
Gabriel lounged on a park bench, listening to the birds whistle the same melodies the angels had taught them, long ago. They were euphoric in their freedom, fluttering every which way like little smug assholes. Gabriel had freedom too now and he could do just about anything he wanted, with the exception of annoying his favourite hunters of course, but he had to admit that freedom had lost its appeal. Sure, he could set a wolf on a dog abuser, drop a Republican candidate in the middle of a drag show but that's what he did yesterday. A fat pigeon landed on the branch, sending the smaller birds whizzing away in fright. That pigeon was obviously Michael, thinking it ruled the roost. Give the other birds a chance, shitdick. This was it, he'd reached the point of cursing at birds alone on a decaying park bench. Really, Gabriel, you need to get out more he told himself. Right now, Castiel was probably engaged in a deadly game of cat and mouse, just trying to stay one step ahead until he could think of any way to win his impossible war. If only they'd managed to throw Raphael in the cage too, that would have saved them a world of problems. Hell, they could have dropped Gabe in too, he wouldn't have minded that much at this point. An eternity in Lucifer's time out box with his favourite big brothers. And Sam, of course. Maybe if he'd been there, it would have been different; less torture, more family bonding. Subconsciously, Gabriel pressed a hand to his chest where he could still feel the sting of the wide, jagged scar beneath his vessel's clothing. Family bonding was always fun.
Try as he might, Gabriel just couldn't distract himself. The bar was rough, smelling of cheap liquor and urine, and he could see about 6 creeps that could use a good pranking. He could also see a very attractive brunette leaning on the bar nursing a cosmopolitan. But instead of sidling up to her and employing his very best pickup lines, he was sat alone worrying about the Winchesters. His asshole brain kept conjuring images of Sam, weak and trembling, completely at the mercy of the memories Gabriel had helped restore. It was like trying to watch TV while an annoying sibling insisted on changing the channel to a miserable hospital documentary. His mind flickered between the channels. Rowdy bar, Sam alone and afraid, gorgeous brunette, Raphael killing Cas, the daiquiri in his hand, Dean desperately trying and failing to wake his brother, the sound of a pool balls colliding, Sam cold and unresponsive having finally succumbed to the hell Gabriel had filled his mind with. His stomach twisted, he couldn't do this anymore. He polished off the daiquiri in one swift gulp and exited the bar. Surely it couldn't hurt just to check up on them, could it?
"Gone? They're just-" Gabriel wiggled his hands with incredulity. "Into thin air? How can they do that?" Bobby glared at him and conspicuously loaded the shotgun in his hands.
"I don't know, smartass. You seem more qualified than me on that." Gabriel had already scanned the planet and even checked a fraction of the galaxy because, with those two, it would not surprise him to find them on Pluto.
"Nope, they're gone. Probably an alternate universe. Why the hell are they in an alternate universe?"
"You tell me!" He advanced menacingly, hands poised on the shotgun that would do absolutely nothing against Gabriel. Maybe just to give the old man peace of mind, Gabriel backed away, his hands raised in surrender.
"Right, I see how this looks. I did nothing. Before, I just put them in an iddy biddy pocket reality. This is….like a whole new fucking universe. Seriously, kudos to whoever did this." Bobby set the gun aside and groaned.
"It's just one thing after another with those two. I only went out to get booze."
"They need a babysitter." Gabriel remarked. Bobby huffed in agreement.
"What are you doing here anyway?" Ah, damn. No good explanations came readily to mind. It was difficult to be honest when Gabriel didn't actually know the answer.
"Head maintenance. Checking that everything was….good with the mind funnel that I put in." Yes, that worked. True enough, anyway. Bobby narrowed his eyes in suspicion but didn't challenge him.
"I suggest we find them before Raphael does. This could be a start." Bobby threw a dish at Gabriel. It smelt strongly of smoke with a hint of lamb's blood. And was that…bone of a lesser saint? He sniffed deeply; yes it was. Someone had been very naughty indeed.
"This is definitely a start."
Dean was relieved to see Sam standing by what he hoped was the exit to this god-awful nightmare. He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, clearly trying to blend in despite the fact that he was a good half-foot taller than just about everybody in the studio. Dean's face still burned from the acid wipes that had violated his skin, simply the crowning glory of the pervasive and creepy feeling he was getting from this setup.
"Dude they put makeup on us! Those bastards." He declared upon reaching his brother.
"Did they just take it off?" Sam asked, staring a little too much.
"Um…yeah, why?"
"You should wear it more often. You look terrible." Dean rolled his eyes.
"Ha Ha, very funny Sam." Sam smirked but his face dropped a moment later when a shrill voice echoed through the studio.
"Jared!" Dean caught a brief glimpse of the same woman that led Sam away earlier heading towards them, determination in her features.
"Let's go!" Sam said suddenly and pulled Dean through the heavy door.
"So let me get this straight." Dean contemplated as they walked through the parking lot. "You're saying that our lives-"
"Are a TV show, yes." Sam finished.
"Fantastic. Why the hell are people watching our lives?"
"According to that interviewer, not many people do. But it makes sense, there are the supernatural books in our universe. TV show in this one." Dean struggled with the whole 'alternate universe' for the moment but, honestly, this would not be the weirdest thing that has happened to them.
"So is the maker of this show a prophet? Like Chuck?" He asked.
"I don't know, could be." Chuck had stopped writing, Dean was sure of that. But apparently this show was still filming, meaning people knew what was happening in their lives at this moment and possibly what was going to happen in the future.. Useful, maybe, but creepy. And there'd probably be enough paradox-related bullshit to thoroughly screw them over.
"Wait, how do you know all this?" He asked as they passed rows of those buggy things Dean had become accustomed to seeing in every portrayal of film sets.
"I met Gabriel. Well, not him exactly but the actor who plays him. On this TV show. So get this, you and I are actors, or at least going through wife swap with them." That must be 'Jensen' then. The makeup-wearing guy who looks exactly like Dean. Christ, even for them this was a whole new level of weirdness.
"So…the actors are in our universe?" Dean asked, inwardly cringing at the mental image of Bobby conversing with two confused primadonnas.
"Oh god I hope not." Sam replied, his face a picture of utter horror. At least he looked how Dean felt. Then, a very welcome sight took up his attention.
"Aw baby, I'm glad you made it." He strolled over to his beloved car, drinking in every feature with renewed faith that just maybe everything could turn out okay. Then, the illusion was shattered by some moron with a bucket of cold mud.
"Hey! Hey, what are you-" He reached for his gun but came up empty: he'd left the damned thing in their universe. Balthazar needs to give more warning before he shoves people through portals. Before he could attack the heretic who dare desecrate baby, he noticed 3 more Impalas in a row, as if arranged on a factory conveyor belt. Disgust and anger on his baby's behalf coursing through him, all Dean could think of was taking a certain sleazy angel and shoving his special key into another dimension.
"I think I'm gonna be sick. I want to go home. This place is bad-touching me all over."
"Yeah I know, me too. So what do you think? Cas?" Damn, Dean had been so preoccupied with wayward tricksters, misplaced souls, and sick universes that reeked of Big Brother that he'd forgotten about their winged ally. Well, that wasn't strictly true but it was better to fill his mind with issues he could actually throw himself into than worry endlessly that one day he could pray and get no reply. Both methods came with sleepless nights but he'd rather stay up watching Sammy for any sign of trouble than staring at the ceiling all night, alone with nothing but a sickening ache in his gut as his mind conjured images of blue eyes burning out.
"Yeah…okay. If he's still alive." He said, voice cracking a little as he recited his prayer. "Dear Castiel who art maybe running his ass away from heaven. You got your ears on? 'Cause your buddy's got us into a weird situation." Dean held his breath, as though he could bring Cas to them through sheer power of will alone. There was no flutter of wings or 'hello Dean' this time. They stood waiting in the studio parking lot, growing more wary as each second passed by.
"That's not a good sign." Sam observed, watching Dean carefully.
"I'm sure he's fine, just-" Dean began to reply but stopped as he glimpsed a flurry of beige disappear between two techy-looking stagehands.
"Cas!" He yelled, voice embarrassingly high with relief as he ran towards him. "Man, it is good to see you. What's all this crap? What did Balthazar do to us?" Cas' gaze flickered between the two of them before he answered.
"He cast you into an alternate dimension to keep you out of Virgil's reach. This universe is very similar to ours in most respects, drastically different in other." You could always count on Cas to be cryptic but at least he was here.
"Right, so it's like Bizzaro earth? Or like mirror universe but instead of evil clones we get….whatever the fuck this is?"
"Nice way of putting it." Sam commented next to him.
"Shut up." Dean replied. Cas watched the exchange with confusion, trust him not to understand the reference.
"Anyway, no time to explain. Do you have the key he gave you?" Sam handed Cas the key.
"Yeah, so what does it do anyway?" Sam asked.
"It opens a room." Cas answered as if that was explanation enough.
"Gonna need some elaboration there, buddy. What's in the room?" Dean half expected Cas not to answer. The contents of the room were probably sensitive information, after all. But to Dean's surprise, Cas answered.
"Every weapon Balthazar stole from heaven." So the small key in Cas' hand was the cosmic equivalent of nuclear codes. And it was their responsibility. Oh god they were so screwed.
"And he just gave it to us?"
"To keep it safe until I could reach you. With those weapons, I can rally my forces." Nice to see Cas trusting them with something this big; although, they could do with a little warning next time.
"Oh. Okay good but what's the deal with all this TV crap?" Sam asked. Cas glanced between them, eyebrows furrowing in bewilderment. Join the club, pal.
"Pardon?"
"Yeah, Amen Padaleski." Dean muttered to Sam.
"Lecki." He corrected.
"What?"
"Padalecki. Pretty sure." Like that didn't make the name any less weird.
"What? Did they give you new pages, thanks for telling me guys?" Cas rifled through papers he retrieved from his coat, his voice unrecognisable. Gone was the gritty register that made Dean's throat hurt just listening to, in its place was something remarkably…human. Remembering what Sam had said about fake Gabriel, Dean snatched the pages from his hand.
"This is a script. This isn't Cas." He read a few lines and, sure enough, their conversation was printed just like Chuck's books. Another detail caught his eye.
"His name's Misha. Really? Misha?" Fake Cas, or Misha apparently, shrugged off his shirt and coat to reveal a powder blue T Shirt with the kind of symbol Dean expected in stores trying to be ethnic and hippy.
"You're messing with me? Man, I hate you guys. They don't teach you this in drama school." Dean prised the key out of his hand and shoved past, too disgusted with this whole universe to even reply.
Dean paced through the pristine trailer, turning over every little amenity and knick-knack he could find, looking for the magic switch that would snap them out of this nightmare. Sam hadn't moved in half an hour, he'd just tapped furiously on the sleek laptop they'd found, his expression shifting from bemusement to anger to just plain grossed out. If he'd had any…episodes since landing in TV studio land, he showed no sign. Either the world was giving him a break for once or, the more likely option, he'd gotten very good at hiding it. Or maybe the laptop was nice enough to take his mind off it, they'd have to swipe it on the way out of here. It was his, after all.
"Found anything interesting?" Dean asked. Sam hummed in reply and gestured with his hands silently for a moment, the way he always does when preparing to unleash a tidal wave of freaky revelations.
"I've found that I want to take a really really long shower. It's just…weird. And invasive. It's like Truman Show level of creepy." Dean always hated secret-camera shows. Now he was living one. Figures. "It's all here, childhood flashbacks even. Hey! I looked nothing like that." Dean glanced at the scrawny kid on the screen.
"Yeah, you did. That's scary." Sam glared at him but continued.
"It even shows…sexual encounters?" Dean snatched the laptop from Sam and stared in disbelief.
"What the hell? They know about Ronda Hurley!"
"Who's Ronda Hurely?" Sam inquired. Dean quickly closed the tabs and handed the laptop back.
"Mind your own damn business." He snapped.
Castiel waited in the location Balthazar had given him, drawing concerned looks from humans in the vicinity. Knowing his brother, Castiel supposed that Balthazar had agreed to meet him in a female undergarment store on purpose. He was also exactly 7 minutes late.
"Can I help you sir?" A high voice asked, its tone feigning joy. The person to whom it belonged was a young woman wearing a false smile, her eyes fixed on Castiel as though he were something strange.
"Ummmm… what would you recommend?" He stammered, glancing around the heavily perfumed store for any sign of Balthazar.
"Well that depends on the occasion! We have some lovely pieces for a romantic getaway or honeymoon but if you'd like something simpler…" She drifted between the displays, chattering pleasantly as she held various scraps of fabric up to Castiel for his appraisal.
"Is it for a wife or girlfriend?" She quizzed, handing a few items to him.
"Ummmmm…." He mumbled, lost for any way to cover. Balthazar chose this moment to walk in, utter delight colouring his features as he spotted Castiel laden with undergarments.
"Sorry I'm late, honey." He proclaimed. The woman stared at the newcomer, turning back to Castiel with an understanding smile on her face.
"I must leave. But thank you for your help." He apologised, handing back the garments and all but frog-marched Balthazar out of the door.
"Let's go." Castiel replied sternly.
They landed in an immense warehouse, piled high with containers of all sizes, from basic cardboard boxes to crates large as shipping containers. A lone forklift patrolled the goods, its driver blissfully unaware of the true value of some of these items.
"You hid heaven's weapons in a store warehouse?" Castiel asked, poring over the unremarkable boxes for any trace of heavenly signature.
"No of course not, I'm not an idiot. I hid the doorway to the place I hid heaven's weapons in a store warehouse. Give me some credit, Cassie." He explained, trailing his fingers along the containers as they walked. He plucked a crowbar from one of the shelves and wedged it into the side of a crate. As the lid fell, white light streamed freely from the container, warping the air it touched.
"After you." Balthazar said and lightly pushed Castiel into the crate.
Balthazar had hidden the weapons in a small cave he'd carved into a mountain himself. It was buried deep, no physical entrances, and angel warding surrounded it on all sides. The only way in was the makeshift portal, hidden in an unremarkable crate stacked with thousands just like it. In terms of security, Castiel was impressed.
"Right, well. Over there you've got Gabriel's horn of truth. He might be wanting it back I suppose…but no matter, all it does is get you into some very awkward situations at dinner parties. Don't touch that! It's a spoke of Saint Catherine's wheel, last person I saw touch that was ripped apart violently. Guts everywhere, a nightmare to get out of the carpet. And this-" he pulled a rusted sword from its sheath "-is probably what you're here for. Castiel took the sword, its plain surface was warm to the touch.
"Michael's flaming sword." He murmured, breathless with awe.
"Bingo. You have to wonder why God bothered with angel blades when he had that up his sleeve. One swing of that and Raphael's crusade will be over." Castiel slid the sword back into its sheath, his fingertips chilled by the loss. Of all the wonders in the cave, this rusted blade was singularly the most important, both to heaven and to him. He held the key to victory in his hand, all it took was to engage Raphael in single combat; nothing could stand against this sword.
"How did you distract Raphael?" He asked, still gazing at the weapon with reverence.
"Sent him on a wild goose chase. Or should I say a wild Winchester chase?" Castiel's attention snapped to Balthazar at the mention of the name.
"What did you do to them?" He demanded, his voice dangerously soft.
"Oh relax. They can handle themselves. They're like lovable little cockroaches."
"You should show them some respect." He warned. The sheath in his hand began to grow warm, his worry and rage sparking the blade into life.
"Oh I do. I show them more respect than you do by coddling them. Do you really think they want to be treated like naughty children, incapable of making their own decisions on whether to throw themselves into danger every day of their lives?" Balthazar postulated, the corner of his mouth quirking in amusement. Castiel's anger faded away and the sword cooled, a rusty blade once again.
"Well done, you set the righteousness blade off. It needs to burn more than that to work, though." Castiel ignored this comment, his mind too focused on the Winchesters.
"Where are they? You're fetching them back, now."
Gabriel painted the sigil on the window, the bloody mixture dripping from his fingertips.
"So this is gonna bring them back?" Bobby leant against the garage wall, watching Gabriel's progress.
"In theory, yes." Gabriel replied shortly, wiping his hands on his jeans.
"In theory?"
"Big glowing sigil appears on a window right next to where you're standing. Would you jump through it?" Gabriel reasoned, inspecting the mark as it began to hum and glow.
"Depend on the kinda day I was having. So this only works if the boys jump through it?" There were about a million 'ifs' in this plan but it was the best they had. Fiddling with alternate universes and timelines? That was above even Gabriel's pay grade. He could only hope that they recognised the sigil.
Virgil's fist collided with Sam's cheekbone with such force that it knocked him over. He squeezed the key in his hand, searching for any weapon they could use against the militant angel but everything in this place was just a prop. A thud and a grunt from above him indicated that Dean had at least managed to land a hit but the two of them stood no chance unarmed. The sounds of the scuffle seemed to diminish, all Sam could hear was a faint ringing, growing unbearably loud then softening, almost like a pulse. A nearby fake window glowed with light, the sigil upon it painstakingly familiar.
"Dean!" He yelled, caught between relief and desperation. Dean turned at the sound of his voice just as Virgil charged into him. Sam had no choice but to grab hold and pull all three of them through the window.
Sam collided with solid ground, the lack of mattress coming as a relief despite the pain jolting through his bones. Wet gravel pressing into his palms, he clambered to his feet to see a woman standing in front of them.
"Well isn't this a surprising situation?" She said, her condescending tone and uniform posture all too familiar.
"Raphael? Oh shit."
Bobby and Gabriel stood, dumbstruck, amongst shattered glass staring at the spot the Winchesters had landed and immediately disappeared from.
"I'm guessing that wasn't supposed to happen?"