Episode 11 – Behold The Prophet

Summary: Gavin seeks out his father, begging him for help while Beth pursues another goal. Oh, and there is a Griffin.

Author's Notes: I am so utterly sorry about the delay! I'll follow up this chapter with another one later today.

xXx

The world of demons and monsters is still new to Gavin, as is conjuring them. He understands by now why his father and the red-haired woman found it so amusing when he called them angels – Beth has been explaining a lot of things to him.

Spells and magic, though… He's not sure how to feel about that. It seems like devil's worship – then again, that's basically what this actually is, eh?

Gavin shakes his head, checking for the third time that he has all the necessary ingredients. He arranges everything according to the drawing Beth left, then rips the parchment, no, the paper apart and hides the remains in his pocket.

He lights a match, throws it delicately into the bowl – and jumps back when the contents ignite and basically explode in his face.

Gavin coughs, a hand on his chest.

"My, my, I hope no one's given you cigarettes yet, darling," comes an eerily familiar voice.

"They did," Gavin coughs, "and they were ghastly!"

Crowley tsks, eyes taking in the shabby barn Gavin chose for the summoning. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure? And tell me quickly, I've got appointments to keep, my boy."

Gavin takes a deep breath, concentrating on his voice. "I need ya help," he pleads in his most pathetic whine. According to Beth, it is quite pathetic. "I'm at my wit's end, father. There are… people after me. Thugs. Awful people! I can't outrun 'em any longer." His eyes are wide, shining with unshed tears.

Crowley's face doesn't soften. "What d'you want me to do about it, eh?"

"You're the bloody King of Hell! Ya have, I don't know… I need protection! Please!"

"I gave you your life, you ungrateful fool! I could have let you die on that sodding ship!"

"But ya didn't, ya thought I could make it here, but I'm not like ya… Father, please. Anything?"

"Well, I don't have any personnel to dispense on your sorry arse, Gavin."

Gavin swallows, wringing his hands in fake desperation. "But… there's got to be something, father… I'll be in the ground before the week is out… don't you have any, I don't know – creatures? Monsters? I bet Hell's full of 'em."

Crowley's expression turns thoughtful. "Maybe. How do you feel about dogs, Gavin?"

"Dogs?" He feigns surprise. On the inside, he's cheering.

"Dogs. I have a few hellhounds at my disposal. I guess I could, uh, entrust one in your care? They do make fierce bodyguards." His father smirks, probably at the memory of something gruesome his dogs have done.

"Will they listen to me?"

"If I bind them to you. I'll need a bit of your blood, son."

"Better a bit now than all of it later at the hand of a scoundrel!" he exclaims, extending his arms towards his father, stepping closer to the sigil on the floor.

What follows is surprisingly quick. Crowley calls a hound, he performs a spell, and suddenly, from one moment to the next, Gavin can see, actually bloody see the creature. Red eyes, sharp teeth. He fights the urge to run.

"She won't hurt you. You're her master now."

"Th-thank you," he stammers. "Thank you, father!"

"Hush, show your gratitude by releasing me, I wasn't kidding about my full calendar."

"Of course! Apologies!"

Gavin scrambles to break the paint on the floor and within the blink of an eye, Crowley is gone. Just as soon, Gavin's face morphs into a triumphant smile.

"It worked!" he tells the hound. "It bloody worked!"

The dog just barks at him, wagging its tail.

xXx

Cas is completely silent in his sleep. It should probably creep Dean out how anyone, let alone a friggin' angel, could make so little noise but instead it's enthralling. Or whatever, not that he's thinking about that.

Just like he ain't thinking about how Cas looks while he's sleeping, his face soft and free of worry lines, almost – adorable.

So yeah, Dean's having a grade a chick-flick moment while he's watching Cas sleep next to him, whatever. It's just… he never thought he might have the chance. Still can't believe it, as a matter of fact.

Cas, angel of the Lord, in bed with him, every night for over a week now. They returned from the Poltergeist hunt and while Cas is still off during the day, coordinating the hunt for Douchebag Number One, he never failed to come back at night.

Made it a bit difficult to find time for his sparring sessions in the pit, but Dean can get creative when he has to.

Creative… That's what Merrick called him last night, when Dean thought of a new use for the heated iron plates. Something in Dean's chest constricts faintly at the memory and he shakes his head, rolling onto his back so that he isn't facing Cas anymore.

He's on limited time here, not like he doesn't know it. Cas won't stick around forever. Fuck, Dean probably won't either. Just a question of who of them stops it first – Cas by loosing what's left of his juice or Dean by eventually crossing over the edge.

Dean's grip on himself is slipping; there ain't no denying it. The past few days have been filled with moments when he caught himself thinking about the pit, about his Knights, about when Crowley'd call with the next job already. Dean can't stand more than a day without some violence anymore, can feel the bile rise in his throat as soon as the twenty-four hour mark passes.

Then, there's the memory loss. Dean knows he's down in the pit, but he can't for the life of him recall what he's been doing down there sometimes – maybe he tortured, maybe killed… But he's always better afterwards, like a friggin' junkie after a fix. And even when Dean does remember, it's flashes of more pain, more screaming, more blood – just more, 'cause obviously his tolerance is improving.

Heaving a sigh he turns back towards his angel, drinking in the sight of him.

He's about to reach out and brush a strand of dark hair out of his face when a knock sounds through the room.

Dean's out of the bed immediately, trying desperately to find his pants 'cause that's either Sam or Kevin and neither of them know that Cas is his – what, exactly? Boyfriend? Fuck-buddy? None of the words sound right…

The door opens just as Dean picks up a shirt from the floor.

"Sammy, I didn't say you could come in!" he snaps, hoping against hope that his brother won't chance a glance at the bed.

"Well, this can't wait, Dean. Cas, buddy, wake up," he adds softly and Dean blinks.

Upon haring his name, Cas shifts and stretches a bit, the sheet riding lower on his chest, revealing his nipples and a few hickeys Dean left there and there's no question about why Cas is naked, not even a raised eyebrow from Sam who taps his foot a bit like he always does when he's impatient.

"We'll meet you in the kitchen," Dean tells him, retrieving Cas' pants from the chair in the corner.

"Two minutes, I'm not kidding," Sam insists before turning around, giving Dean the chance to pounce.

"Why's Sammy so chill about you being here?"

Cas stares up at him, processing. "Good morning to you, too, Dean."

"Yeah, yeah, sunshine and kittens, Cas, come on, spill."

"After we returned from Colorado Springs," the angel finally explains, snatching the pants from Dean, "your brother took me aside and told me he was happy for us. Didn't he do the same with you?"

"No," Dean grumbles, flopping down on the mattress with a huff. In an instant, Cas' arms are winding themselves around his torso. Dean relaxed into the other man's body heat without a second thought.

"He probably didn't want to make things awkward."

"Well, good for him."

Instead of answering, Cas buries his face in the crook of Dean's neck, breathing in deeply. After a moment, he pulls back. "Let's not keep him waiting; it sounded urgent."

Cas presses a brief kiss behind Dean's ear and then moves off him, shrugging on yesterday's shirt as he leaves the room, giving Dean not many options that aren't following him.

"So, you wanna tell us why you're barging in my room at ass o'clock in the morning?"

Sam sets down his shake – disgustingly healthy, all green and mushy and gross enough to make Dean shudder and think of bacon – an runs a hand through his hair.

"Gabriel called… There's a Griffin on the loose."

Dean stares. "A Griffin? A fucking Griffin?"

"According to him, yeah."

"They are extremely rare," Cas pitches in. "Gabriel would never joke about such a creature."

"I don't doubt it," Sam agrees, "so we gotta do some digging. There's not a lot of lore on them, and we need to be prepared."

"What, we killin' the thing?"

His brother nods. "It's attacking cattle down in Oklahoma and scaring several farmers. So far no human casualties, though."

"Then let's make sure it stays that way," Dean says, already pulling up a book.

xXx

San Francisco, California

Smoke spirals into the sky, painted different shades of pink and blue by the rising sun. The flames are still eating away at the building when Alex slams her foot down onto the brake, bringing the truck to a stop when she sees the army of firemen and police officers.

For a moment she toys with the idea of taking on the disguise of an FBI agent, but a glance in the mirror proves what she thought: the shadows underneath her eyes and the dull quality of her hair will make convincing anyone she's anything else but a runaway living out of her car pretty hard.

Instead she park her truck around the corner and approaches a group of people huddled together under several blankets, breaking into a run when she comes into their field of vision.

"Oh no! What happened?!" she exclaims, clutching her chest and staring at the men and women with wide eyes.

"Gas leak, they say," one of them volunteers. His face has deep lines despite his young age. His skin is ashen, his cheeks hollow. "Place ain't the most well kept, is it."

"Did anyone die?!"

Another man nods gravely. He can't be over thirty yet he looks old and worn, with lacerations on his skin and greasy hair. "There was an explosion. Most of the people in there didn't make it. You looking for someone?"

"My cousin… I wanted to get him back… Get him to rehab…" Alex' voice breaks on the last word and the men's eyes soften.

"Most of us were on the first floor," a woman croaks. She must have been using for over a decade at least – she is by far the worst looking of them all. Moments like these remind Alex that she should be glad that the only monsters she has to fight can be killed swiftly, unlike drug addictions. "If your cousin was here tonight, he won't be needing rehab any longer."

Alex nods, wiping the fake tears out of her eyes before she wanders off. Hiding in the waning shadows, she overhears the firemen cursing, saying something about resistant flames and needing more fire water…

A quick walk-around is the last thing she needs to confirm it. Her EMF meter spikes, placing something supernatural or other at the scene.

Alex kicks the side of the truck in frustration. She's loosing. More than that – she's running out of time. She has a mental list and it's getting ticked off incredibly fast.

She needs help. She needs the guys who stopped it the last time.

xXx

Great Falls, Montana

It is incredibly refreshing to be alone again. Beth might not have spent that much time with Gavin yet, but even the smallest amount is enough to make even the most patient of demons want to strangle the man.

How anyone that naïve and impressionable could survive that long in the world they are living in will forever remain a mystery. Too bad that they need him, and dearly at that.

Beth is under strict orders to ensure Gavin's well-being and only Merrick's potential wrath should she fail are holding Beth back from putting a pillow over Gavin's head while he sleeps.

She curses under her breath. Brilliant – even when the idiot is not there, he manages to dampen her mood.

She seeks distraction in the security guard manning the gated community in Great Falls, Montana. And by 'distraction' she is referring to slicing his throat and watching the blood leak onto the smooth floor of the guardhouse.

It is late at night and the residents are all asleep, if the dark facades are any indication. Beth reaches her destination quickly and finds a window at the back of the large house ajar, which becomes her way into the residence. The girl's room is obvious, revolting Gryffindor stickers adorning the door and a similarly fashioned name plate proclaiming to anyone who sees it that the room belongs to 'Mary Potter'.

Beth rolls her eyes. If she hadn't taken such great care in selecting the child, she would have turned around and looked for another candidate. But it has to be her.

In the end, not even Harry Potter himself could have helped little Mary. She is unconscious and bound in the backseat of Beth's car before anyone would have managed to say 'Quidditch'.

xXx

"Come on, how hard can it be to find a fucking Griffin! Not exactly inconspicuous, are they?"

"Shouting at the night sky won't make it any easier, kiddo," Gabriel snaps back, exiting the farm after Dean and slamming the gate from what Dean can hear.

"No luck?" Sam asks when they reach the Impala, not even looking up from the laptop.

"What's it look like, Sammy?"

"Maybe it is asleep. I believe even mythical creatures need some rest."

"Cassie, that's just wishful thinking. I bet'cha the thing's still out and about, stealing beef from McDonald's."

"The last farm it hit supplies Kentucky Fried Chicken," Sam corrects, eyes still clued to the screen and missing the archangel's epic eye roll.

"So not the point, sweet cheeks."

"What now? Tactical retreat to the hotel?" Dean suggests, resisting the temptation to scratch his arm where the Mark is making itself felt. They've been on the hunt for almost 36 hours and last night Dean didn't get a chance to sneak downstairs since Cas was very much awake – and eager…

"Apparently," Gabriel huffs and Dean's already cheering internally when of course his gigantor of a brother has to ruin his night.

"No, wait! I think I got something!"

"What?"

"Someone near Woodward just called 911, apparently believes someone's breaking into his farm. I looked him up; he's a large farmer and keeps his animals outdoors – perfect hunting ground for our birdie."

"Birdie? Dude."

"What? I can hardly call it 'gigantic eagle-lion-hybrid'. Plus, it has wings."

"We could call it Buckbeak," Cas suggests and it takes Dean a second to get it, yet when he does, he can't hold back the snort.

A snort which turns into a full-belly laugh when all Sammy does is nod and say "Alright".

"A bunch o' nerds, that's what you are," he teases, already rounding the Impala to drive them up north.

xXx

As it turns out, police siren and Griffins don't mix too well, so they're chasing the damn beast further west and the only reason they're able to even do that is the blood trail.

"Holy crack on a cracker, how can a bunch of overbred oxen hurt a Griffin?" Gabriel comments when they discover the first stains on the green grass.

Dean couldn't have answered even if he had something to contribute. He's mesmerized by the thick red liquid on the ground, his pulse quickening. He breathes in deeply before his head snaps around.

"That way," he announces and runs off.

"What the –" is all he catches from Gabriel's reply before he is out of earshot and hot on the creature's heels.

He finds the creature near some sort of lake, blood dripping down from a gash in its shoulder. Dean assesses the beast – it's huge, and like the lore says, half lion, half eagle. If Dean had to guess, he'd say its white wings stretch wider than sixty feet and its paws, respectively claws, could easily grab an overgrown cow.

Its large beak is trying to clean the feathers, gently prying them apart while releasing high-pitched sounds. Apparently it's in pain already, so the pain Dean's about to add to that won't be too much trouble.

He doesn't sneak up on it, merely step into view and immediate the thing is on its feet, screeching at him. He's a bit disappointed – roaring would have been so much more intimidating.

"You wanna do this the hard way or the easy way?" Dean taunts it, craning his neck a bit to meet its eyes now that it's standing. A flapping of wings tells him that his entourage has arrived and he swallows. Maybe not the hard way, then. A clean kill will probably have to do…

He tightens his grip on the blade and lunges forward, aiming for the beast's throat but a large wing breaks his momentum and flings him aside where Dean rolls onto his feet immediately, ready for another attack.

Out of the corner of his eyes he can see Gabriel and Cas, angel blades in hand, while Sammy – what else? – is filming the Griffin like Dean knew he would.

Dean zaps in front of the beast and brings the blade down but it's damn fast, evading his blow and jumping over him, proving that its wings still work, even though it has to land after a few feet in the air.

Gabriel shifts his stance but Dean ain't having any of that.

"Stay back," he bellows. "This kill's mine!"

And if he uses a bit of biokinetics to underscore his point, Gabe can bitch about it later.

Dean teleports above the creature, letting gravity do its job until he slams into the Griffin's back. It immediately buckles to push him off, its tail whipping around like mad. It hits Dean between the shoulder blades, drawing a painful grunt from him as he grabs the feathers tighter with his left hand and raises the blade with his right.

It's slippery, though – blood from the wound is oozing over his fingers and makes it more difficult to hold on. He slips, threatens to fall off, yet in the last possible second buries the blade where the torso meets the thing's neck.

The Griffin howls, starts thrashing wildly. Dean holds on, fends off attacks from wings and tail until the beast crashes to the ground and he can retrieve his weapon only to pierce its skin again. Where other knives might have trouble penetrating the thick skin, the first blade runs through it like butter.

It's over quickly after that – Dean keeps stabbing the thing, blood rushing out of the wounds like waterfalls and the power, the energy, envelopes Dean like a cocoon. It's like a drug, the smell of the red substance filling his nostrils and the wetness coating his arms and covering his clothes. Even when the creature stills, the high persists, making Dean's muscles shake as if under a current.

It's the silence that pulls Dean back. He turns around to find his brother and both angels staring at him with wide eyes, Sammy and Gabe mostly intimidated as it seems, Cas, however… Cas' eyes have become darker suddenly. Or maybe that is just the light.

Turning his eyes from black back to their natural green takes more effort than Dean would like, but he doesn't let it show. He wipes the blade clean on his thigh, writing off the pair of jeans as a lost cause, and approaches the others.

"What're we gonna do with it now?" he asks, locking eyes with each of them, starting with Cas and ending with Sam, who's the first to break out of his stupor.

"Get it back to the bunker, if possible. Its feathers and claws and, well, basically everything's supposed to have mystical powers."

"And if you need blood, just let American Psycho here wring out his shirt."

"But Patrick Bateman always took care to wear a rain coat to protect his clothes from the blood of his victims," Cas argues, tilting his head at the archangel while Dean bursts into laughter. So he's giddy after the most awesome kill of his life, so what.

"You're way too literal, Cassie," Gabriel grumbles. "And yo, Dean-o, stop laughing your bloodied ass off and help me zap this monster back to Kansas."

Dean manages, but it takes a few minutes.

xXx

Beth stops in her tracks when she reached the rendezvous point and Gavin is sitting back on his heels, petting an invisible dog that's apparently rolling around on the floor.

"By Satan, you're not supposed to bond with the thing!"

Immediately there is a growling sound but a quick gesture from Gavin makes it stop.

"But he's so adorable! Well, if ya look past the red eyes and the, uh, rather intimidating exterior…"

"He's part of the ritual, Gavin."

"Only his blood! Please, Beth, how much blood can we need?"

"A lot."

"But Bouncer's such a good dog!"

"Bouncer?"

"Yes!" Gavin glares at her as if daring her to say something about his choice of pet name. The only thing missing is him stomping his foot and the image of the petulant five-year-old would be complete.

Beth counts to ten inside her head to keep her from overreacting. The last thing she needs is Gavin deciding they're not doing the ritual because he has grown attached to his stupid hellhound.

"We can try it with less blood, though if it fails, we will use all of it. Agreed?"

Gavin doesn't look like he does but he nods nonetheless.

"The girl's in the trunk, as is the Griffin's blood. We better begin."

"Did the Griffin give you problems?"

"No, it was incredibly easy wounding a giant half eagle, half lion beast from ancient times which also happens to be incredibly fast and possess almost impenetrable skin."

Gavin averts his eyes, then sways a little – apparently Bouncer has rubbed its head against his leg, attempting a soothing gesture. Gavin reaches down to pat its head (Beth thinks, it's not like she can see it) and follows her to the car where she hands him the jar of blood with a warning glance before pulling the girl out of the backseat.

Beth has never been unnecessarily cruel, so she doesn't wake the girl. She will bleed out in her unconscious state and they don't have a screaming infant at their hands.

"We're ready," she says, and Gavin whispers something to Bouncer. The only sign of the hound's departure is the dirt it splashes everywhere.

xXx

"Alright, kids," Gabriel announces while he's picking a feather off his shirt, "I gotta get back to the folks upstairs, see what progress we're making or if Metatron's decided to fly off to Hawaii and sip cocktails for the rest of his life…"

Then his brother turns towards him and Castiel does not like the way he is grinning in the slightest. "Speaking of cocktails," Gabe teases and Castiel can't help the color rising in his cheeks. "Need a lift or wanna help Black Eyes clean up?"

"I should not neglect my duty," Castiel starts, knowing it is the right thing to do even if every fiber of his being wants to stay right here.

"You sure, Cassie?"

Castiel swallows. "Do you need me right away?"

Gabriel fixes him with a gaze he cannot read. His brother might not be too happy about the recent developments between Dean and Castiel, yet Gabriel has not put a stop to it. Then again, they have never actually talked about it either- instead Castiel has been on the receiving end of several judgmental looks.

"One hour. I'll tell your fan club you're helping with filing away the Griffin."

Gabriel doesn't look happy, but his words stand, so when the archangel has bidden Sam goodbye, Castiel steps closer, observing Sam as he thumbs through books, probably to determine which parts have to be conserved how.

"He's in the shower and I am not going to think about why you're following him there," Sam tells him without taking his eyes off the ancient text in his hand.

Thankfully Castiel has learnt about the humans' aversion to thinking about members of their family in sexual situations, so instead of telling Sam the reason as to why he is going after Dean, he contends himself with a "Thank you" and leaves through the library.

He doesn't knock when he reaches the bathroom. He can hear the shower running and a cloud of steam from the hot water greets him when he pushes the door open. Yet Dean hasn't stepped into the stream of hot water yet; he is taking deep breaths, wringing his hands, which are still shaking.

Castiel reaches out instinctively, aiming to clasps Dean's hands in his own, yet the other man jumps back, almost crashing into shower curtains.

"Cas? What the hell?"

"I thought you might need some help washing the blood off," Castiel explains, biting his lower lip to broadcast his underlying intentions.

Seeing Dean swallow when he catches up sends a shiver down Castiel's spine and he takes another step into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Shower sex, Cas? Classy."

"And you're still wearing too many clothes."

"Why don't you do something about it then, my angel?"

He doesn't need a more obvious invitation. Another step and he is standing directly in front of Dean, close enough to reach out and simply tear the bloodied shirt off, sending buttons to the floor. Dean's breath hitches when Castiel's eyes roam his chest and stomach, the skin slightly red from the blood that has soaked through the fabric.

There is a rather long and wide streak of red across Dean's cheek, drops of blood caught in his stubble and Castiel cannot say why, but somehow the blood makes Dean even more beautiful than he usually is.

"Take off your pants," he tells him, stepping back while already unbuttoning his own shirt and loosening his own bet.

Moments later they are both naked and stepping underneath the hot jet of water, which turns different shades of pink when it comes into contact with the blood covering Dean's body. Castiel cannot hold back any longer, so he lets his fingers glide across planes of skin and muscle, watching how Dean's eyelids are drooping and his pupils dilating. A glance downward confirms that the hunter is just as aroused as Castiel is himself.

He closes the gap between them and wraps a hand around both their cocks as he grips Dean's neck and pulls him into a kiss that is neither slow nor sweet, but passionate and dirty, with Dean biting his lower lip and making him gasp.

A second later Dean's presence is gone and Castiel opens his mouth to complain, yet the sound morphs into a moan when Dean's lips close around his erection. Dean, wet and naked, with remnants of blood still covering his cheeks and torso, his mouth moving up and down Castiel's cock immediately makes the list of the most erotic things Castiel has ever seen.

His hips buckle when he looks down again, and he would murmur an apology if Dean's hands weren't holding onto the back of his thighs and encouraging him to thrust into the velvety heat, again and again until he can feel Dean's throat constrict around him and hear the chocking sound over the noise of the shower.

Castiel climaxes incredibly quickly, stars erupting behind his eyelids as he throws back his head and hits it on the shower wall. Dean keeps sucking gently, letting him ride out the aftershocks like he knows Castiel likes, then Dean is on his feet, spinning Castiel around and draping his body across his back.

For a moment Castiel thinks Dean is going to prepare him but apparently the hunter is not patient enough now, for he merely pushes Castiel's legs further apart and slides his erection between his thighs. His legs still feel wobbly, but Castiel manages to close them and engage the muscles, granting Dean the friction he desperately needs.

Dean's fingernails are digging into Castiel's hips, are surely going to leave crescent-shaped marks behind that will take longer to heal because of Castiel's waning grace. If it were up to him, Castiel would keep them forever.

The thrusts are harder, sharper, faster now and suddenly Dean sinks his teeth into the skin of Castiel's shoulder. His cock twitches feebly as a new wave of arousal courses through him, but it is too soon. Dean definitely needs to fuck Castiel for real soon and bite his neck while he does, he decides as a moan escapes him, which only makes Dean bite down harder.

Dean comes with a strangled grunt, stilling behind him and wrapping his arms around Castiel's torso as they simply stand there underneath the showerhead, letting the water do its job.

Castiel wishes he could preserve this moment forever, remain here in this bathroom with Dean until the end of time, without worrying about the gates of Heaven, or Metatron or Dean's daily trips to Hell that he thinks Castiel hasn't noticed.

Just Dean and him, until the end.

Too bad it is just a fantasy, Castiel thinks as he turns around within Dean's arms and kisses him for all he is worth.

xXx

"You need help with that, Sammy?" Dean asks as he and Cas emerge from the shower, their hair still damp.

Dean didn't want to linger too long, practically made his escape as soon as they were both clean again and the water wasn't turning pink any longer. He can't quite put his finger on it, but somehow the mood in the bathroom became a hell of a lot more intense than his time with Cas usually does.

"Oh, I don't know, Dean. I thought I'd just take apart this gigantic Griffin all by myself. As soon as I find a knife that'll cut its skin, that is."

"Ain't you glad that I got just the thing?" Dean chuckles, tossing the first blade across the room to where Sammy is crouching next to the lifeless creature. Sam catches it with one hand, obviously surprised that Dean just relinquishes it like that. So he's in a generous mood after his shower; not the most unusual thing to have happened.

"Hi Dean, hi Cas," Kevin says. He is sitting on the floor a little further away, books spread out around him as well.

"Shouldn't you be asleep, kid? It's a school night," Dean jokes, drawing a chuckle from the prophet.

"Sam woke me up, thought I'd want to see a Griffin before he disembodies it."

"Yeah, well, that ain't something you see every day."

"I should check in with Gabriel," Cas says suddenly. "I'd love to help, but-"

They never hear the rest of the sentence, 'cause in that moment, Kevin gives a sharp cry of pain and clutches his head. Everyone's next to him in a second but whatever it was, it seems to have passed as quickly as it came.

"What the hell was that?"

"A vision?" Sam asks. "Did you see something?"

"Not that kind of prophet," Kevin grunts, rubbing his temples.

"Well?"

"Nothing, just – pain. And a sense of… Something. Urgency? Like something's going on?"

"That really narrows it down," Dean grumbles, yet a second later, Sam's phone starts ringing. Dean meets Sam's eyes, marginally creeped out.

"It's Gabriel?" Sam tells them after he glances at the caller ID. "Hey, you're on speaker."

"I'd love to make a dirty comment about our brothers, honey muffin, but I've got bigger things on my mind – we found Metatron."

"What? Where?" Cas asks, beating both Dean and Sam to it.

"Mississippi, we're moving in on him soon. Cassie, I'm coming to get you on the way, so get your ass out of the bunker."

"You want our help, too?" Sam interjects, already handing the blade back to Dean.

"Definitely. See you in a moment. And I mean, one moment."

"What about me?"

"We'll get you when we need you. I ain't risking out biggest asset, so stay put, alright?" Gabriel decides and Kevin slumps down again.

The line goes dead but Dean's already zapped the three of them to their armory and two minutes later, all of them are gunned up and outside the bunker, ready for their archangel taxi.

xXx

The lifeless form of Mary is lying on the ground next to Beth, who watches as Merrick intones the ritual, pouring the Griffin's blood into the bowl already filled with the girl's.

Gavin is watching with wide eyes, holding onto his stupid dog that complained about loosing blood but remains loyal to his master.

The hellhound's blood is the last ingredient, the dark liquid mixing with the rest and starting to glow briefly as Merrick finishes the incantation.

Beth swallows as she watches Merrick beckon Gavin forward and hand over the bowl. The time traveller takes a deep breath, nods once, recites his part of the spell and then squeezes his eyes shut as he touches the bowl to his lips. He has to drain it all at once and Beth can't imagine it tasting good.

Gavin manages, though barely. He coughs and splutters pathetically once he has downed every last drop, but from one moment to the next he doubles over and screams, which makes his dog bark angrily.

The earth is shaking as Gavin begins to glow, brighter and brighter, emanating a deep red light and Beth has to shield her eyes until recedes again, leaving Gavin standing in the middle of the sigil, outwardly the same yet standing straighter. Prouder. Stronger.

Beth exchanges a glance with Merrick, whose lips twist into a toothy smile.

"Behold the False Prophet, agent of the Morningstar," Merrick bellows and the moment would have been incredibly eerie and worthy of its significance if Gavin hadn't decided that jumping up and down is a perfectly fine reaction to becoming a conductor of the apocalypse.

Beth groans and seeks for a wall to bang her head against.

xXx

End Notes: Hope you are still enjoying this fic! I have two more chapters finished, from then on it'll all be posted as soon as I do.

Next chapter will follow tonight!