The room was quiet in the pre-dawn gloom, the silence only broken by the soft, even breathing of the two men asleep in their beds and the faint sounds of distant traffic from the highway. It was an easy silence, unstrained and actually rather comfortably, and both boys slept peacefully in the soft light drifting in from the crack between the curtains.
At least, they were until a phone started blaring an obnoxious ringtone into the gloomy solace of their motel room and both boys awoke with a start, hastily looking at each other before they started searching for the offending device.
"The hell is it?" Dean grumbled; voice still rough from sleep as he rummaged through the pockets on his jacket and jeans.
"Found it!" Sam announced, pulling the phone in question from the pocket of his jacket and flipping it open with a raised eyebrow. "…Garth?"
"Does he know what time it is?" Dean asked, flopping back onto his bed with a faint growl of indignation.
Sam offered him a half-hearted smile before returning his attention to the frantic voice in his ear. "Hang on, Garth, slow down; you've got a what for us?"
"A job!" The Hunter on the other end of the line quickly replied. "And it's only about an hour or two away from where you are now, so you won't have far to go."
Sam ran a hand through his hair, deciding to practice his usual habit of simply not asking how Garth knew half the stuff he did (where they currently were, for instance), and instead merely sighed softly. "What sort of job?" He asked after a short pause, ignored both the glare and the groan that his brother threw him from the other bed.
"Well," Garth began with a poorly concealed chuckle, "the victim is a scientist who has spent his entire working career trying to disprove evolution, and according to the coroner's report that my buddy sent me, it looks like he was chomped by something big. Like, Dino big."
Sam froze, eyes going slightly wider as his shoulders slumped. "Oh no…"
"Oh yes!" Garth corrected. "So, I thought you boys could handle it, since you have experience with these sorts of situations…" He trailed off, sounding hopeful.
Sam thought it over for a moment, frowning into the receiver of his phone. The two of them had only just gotten back on their feet as Hunters, and the younger Winchester wasn't sure if what they really needed was a case like this right now. Then again… "And you're sure it's not just some freak, rouge animal, or anything like that?"
"Positive. The coroner said himself that the bite marks look right for a Dino, even though he's sure that can't be it." Garth's tone intimated that he and Sam clearly knew better. "So, you gonna take it, or am I gonna have to send someone else in?"
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "No, no, we'll take it."
"Great! I'll email you the info I already have, then. Call me if you need me!" The line clicked off, and Sam shut the phone with another sigh.
"Whatever job you just volunteered us for," Dean grumbled from under the covers on his bed, "you can wait to tell me till in the morning."
Sam let out a faint snort of laughter and rolled his eyes, falling back against his sheets and closing his eyes once more. Who knew, maybe a little mischief was just what they needed right now.
"A Trickster, Sammy?" Dean's hands were clenching and unclenching against the steering wheel of the Impala, his annoyance over their current case more than perfectly evident and understandable. "Really?"
"What was I supposed to do, Dean?" He snapped back, less than thrilled himself over what they were about to do. "Let Garth send in someone who doesn't know what they're doing?"
"They'll learn sooner or later, Sam, and in this line of work, sooner is better." Dean muttered; eyes still glued to the road. "And may I remind you that the last time we took on something like this, it turned out not to be a Trickster at all."
Sam flinched imperceptibly at the memory, remembering all too clearly the hotel at the back of beyond, and the unorthodox farewell they'd been given by the honey-eyed man. "Yeah, Dean, I remember." He managed faintly, trying not to think about it anymore than he had to.
"So, Garth manage to figure out where we can find this thing?" The elder asked, finally glancing from the highway and over to his brother, feeling a little pang of guilt over bringing up that particular case.
"Ah, yeah," Sam seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts, "at least, he gave us a place we can start."
"Well that's better than nothing, I suppose…" Dean grumbled softly, relaxing a little in his seat. "So where is it we're starting from, exactly?"
"A little town in Iowa. That's where the first death was, so it makes sense to go ahead and start looking there. These things never just take one, right, so we're bound to run into it sooner or later."
Dean let out a faint sigh. "And you're sure we're dealing with a Trickster?" He asked again.
"Garth seemed pretty sure." Sam replied. "He had a contact up there send him the police's case notes, and all the signs fit a Trickster's M.O."
Dean let out a faint groan. "Awesome."
Sam sent him a side-long look, frowning slightly. "Dean, I know you're not thrilled about this job, and I get it, I do," he paused, exhaling softly, "but can we just… Get through this job and move on to the next?"
Dean let out a faint snort of amusement, nodding. "Right. Let's just survive Trickster-induced insanity and then move on. Great plan, Sammy."
The younger Hunter rolled his eyes. "Better than a few we've thought up over the years."
And even though Dean did nothing more than snort faintly, Sam noticed the way his elder brother's grip on the steering wheel slackened, and his shoulders lost their former stiffness. They'd get through this, he decided. They might be the worse for wear by the end of it, but they would survive. Because if there was one thing the Winchester boys were good at besides hunting, it was surviving… No matter the state they found themselves in afterwards.
The hotel the boys found themselves pulling up to that night wasn't the sort they were used to.
For starters, it didn't have a superbly cheesy name or rooms to rent by the hour. Then, of course, there was the home-cooking diner that was both attached to the hotel and open 24 hours (with a lit sign in the window that read Fresh Baked Pie that made Dean squeal in such a way that was both entertaining to his brother and embarrassing to himself). And thirdly, the rooms were actually nice. Not four-star, chocolates-on-the-pillows nice, but not as bad as most of the places they'd camped out over the years.
And, if Dean was keeping count, the fourth thing that made this place so damn pleasant was the simple fact that the receptionist behind the desk was actually really cute. And not in the ditsy-shop-girl sort of way, but the sensible-working-girl way. She was sketching in a notebook when they walked in, and she instantly smiled at the both of them when the bell over the door chimed, closing her book and moving casually over to the computer.
"What can I get you boys?" She asked with a raised eyebrow, looking them both over closely before seeming to decide upon Dean as the intended recipient of the question. She had in angel wing earrings, which Dean found comical for reasons he would rather keep to himself, and there was a gold and silver tennis bracelet around her right wrist, the little jewels set into the metal glimmering invitingly.
"A room; thanks." He replied, offering her a smile of his own. "If you've got a double free?"
She nodded, tapping something out smoothly on the keyboard before she glanced back at them. "How long will you be staying?"
"A week or so, probably." Sam quickly interrupted before Dean could reply, the taller boy reaching into his jacket and retrieving his current FBI I.D. "We're here about the murder."
"Oh! You mean Danny, right?" She asked, comprehension dawning on her face. "Daniel Morris, the scientist that got killed?"
The boys shared a look before they returned their attention to her. "Yeah, that'd be the one," Dean replied with a faint huff of laughter, "did you know him?"
She frowned slightly. "Not really well… I mean, I saw him at the diner sometimes, and he seemed to be an okay sort of guy, but beyond that…" She trailed off into a shrug.
"Well, if you think of anything," Dean glanced at her nametag and felt himself smile slightly, "Annie, you'll know where to find us."
She offered him a slight smile, nodding once before she finished checking them in and handed over their room keys. "Number Seventeen, it'll be to your left once you walk out." She nodded towards the doors they'd walked in as Dean took the keys from her. "Oh! And while I'm thinking about it, you might want to talk to Carl Jenkins."
"Jenkins?" Sam repeated, trying to remember why the name sounded familiar.
"Yeah, he worked with Danny. Well, I say worked, he was trying to help Danny prove some weird thesis, or something? They would come by the diner a lot and discuss it, but I only caught bits and pieces from time to time."
Sam nodded once, giving her a slight smile, before he headed towards the door and held it open for Dean to follow him through. "Don't even think about it." He muttered once they were both safely outside.
"Think about what?" Dean asked, looking up at him, an eyebrow arched.
"Annie."
"Dude, she's a lady, not an it." Dean teased with a smirk. "Show a little respect!"
Sam glared at him. "You know what I mean."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Just don't go hitting any dogs and we'll be peachy."
Sam threw him Bitchface #8 (a personal favorite of Dean's, as it implied that Sam was both pissed off and exasperated, which meant Dean was doing his job as big brother properly), and let out a snort. "Not funny."
"A little funny." Dean argued, throwing him a grin as he unlocked the door to their room and led the way inside.
The room's interior lacked the usual questionable theme of the other motels they had stayed at, and instead offered up two beds bedecked in soft grey coverlets and pearly white sheets, the pillows clothed in black. The carpet was a mix of color that was reminiscent of static, in that it was all monochrome, and the wall paper was a soft white with pearly grey patterns swirling across it. The monotony of the blacks and greys was broken up by soft touches of purple on the chairs and the lamp that sat on the small table between the beds, and the towels that hung by the bathroom door were the same eggplant color.
Sam let out a faint huh of surprise and appreciation as he closed the door behind him, because there was something rather nice about not trying to sleep amongst garish colors or cowboy memorabilia. And, if he was being honest, the dark colors were actually quite calming and comfortable, and he liked the simplicity of it. He set his laptop bag down on the table and plopped himself down into a nearby chair, letting his eyes roam around the room some more.
"Dinner after I grab a shower sound about right?" Dean asked, already rummaging through his bag for the smaller one he kept his toothbrush in.
"Yeah, sounds good." Sam replied absently, leaning back in his seat and shutting his eyes. If Dean was planning to unwind a little, then so was he.
Annie, as it turned out, worked as a waitress at the diner, and Dean couldn't stop himself from smiling at her whenever she walked by or came to check on them. The place wasn't teaming, of course, but there were a fair few visitors in the retro interior.
One in particular had caught Dean's eye, as he was currently working on his third slice of pie and hadn't lifted his head high enough for the elder Hunter to get a good look at him. It wasn't so much that he looked intimidating, in fact the faded denim jacket spoke volumes to the contrary, but Dean was on high alert for suspicious activity, and after an evening spent trawling through information on their dead scientist, anything was enough to set him on edge.
"So, apparently," Sam spoke softly across the table to him, eyes glued to his computer screen, "this Daniel Morris was not the nicest guy on the planet. Had a habit of "chewing up his research assistants, and then spitting them out again"." He quoted from the article he was currently going over.
"You mean like the dinosaur did to him?" Dean clarified with raised eyebrows, earning a nod from the younger Hunter.
"Seems he never kept on an assistant for longer than they were necessary, and the only person he's ever worked with for longer than six months is one Carl Jenkins." Sam continued. "Although, I doubt he's our Trickster. I've done some digging, and he looks legit."
"How legit?" Dean asked, ready to chase down even the smallest inconsistency if it meant getting this over with sooner.
"I looked through his life all the way back to middle school, Dean." Sam replied with a tired smile. "The guy checks out."
"Great, so we've got nothing to go on." Dean hid his face in his hands with a sigh, but quickly looked back up again when he heard footsteps approaching.
Annie was smiling at him, her hair looking more blond than brown in the lights that hung from the ceiling above her. "You two doing alright, or do you need something else?"
Sam offered her a slight smile and shook his head, but Dean decided that his current mood needed fixing. "Two things, Annie." He replied with a slight grin.
She nodded, taking out her notepad and clicking out the tip on her pen.
"One; I would very much like a slice of apple pie, as I can smell it from here and it smells delicious." She giggled, writing it down, and Dean absently wondered if she dotted her i's with bubbles, or hearts. "And two; who is that over there?" He nodded to the man he'd been watching earlier, and both Annie and Sam turned to follow his line of sight.
"That? Oh, that's Ryan, Ryan Harper." She looked back down at Dean, smile still intact. "He comes in here most nights, swears up and down that our pie is the best in the state. I'm not sure if it's true, but he seems to think so."
"Is he from around here?" Dean asked, his tone purely conversational, although Sam seemed to understand the sudden shift in topic.
"Ah, I don't think so… No, he moved into town a week or so ago. Yeah, that's right; he arrived just after Danny did. I remember, because Ryan told Danny he should try a slice of the pie, and Danny made some comment about not liking sweets and blew Ryan off." She frowned slightly, clicking her pen tip away again and tucking her notepad back into the pocket on her apron. "Funny, I'd forgotten that till just now…"
"Thanks." Dean offered her a smile, which she instantly returned, and then turned to look at Sam. "Okay, that's got to ring a few warning bells for you."
He shrugged slightly. "Could just be a coincidence, Dean."
"Sammy, we make our living off coincidence." He argued. "The least we can do is check the guy out."
Bitchface #3 surfaced (one that screamed exasperation and disapproval, but varied from #4 in that it meant Sam was about to go along with Dean's most recent, likely crazy, idea), and Sam rolled his eyes before huffing out a "fine."
Dean tucked into his pie with gusto when it arrived, and as soon as Ryan made a move for the door, Sam got up and subtly followed him, leaving Dean to do the research back in their room. His punishment for coming up with the most recent, likely crazy, idea.
Dean was still staring resolutely at the article he was currently skimming through, looking for other weird deaths in the area, when he heard the call come in over the police scanner, and grabbed for his phone even before the report had fully finished coming in.
The phone rang once before his brother picked up and Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please tell me that you somehow magically lost Ryan, and that he's not sitting on his couch watching TV or something."
"Well I don't know if he's sitting on his couch watching TV or not," Sam replied slowly, "but he hasn't left the hotel room since he got back."
"You sure?"
"Positive, dude, what's going on?" Sam was beginning to sound concerned, and Dean couldn't honestly blame him.
"He's not our guy. A call just came in on the scanner, something happened over at the gym. Come back over and we'll check it out, okay?"
Sam sighed faintly into the phone, but Dean could hear his footsteps faintly echoing off the pavement. "Yeah, okay, be right there."
Dean flipped his phone shut and started to change, pulling on his suit. The report he'd overheard had said something about an explosion, which clearly was not a good thing, and he would have been lying if he said that his head wasn't spinning with ideas over what it could have been.
Sam let himself in and started to change as well, leaving Dean to go check the arsenal in the trunk and double-check that their stakes were ready and waiting if they needed them. Once satisfied, he closed the trunk in time to see Sam moving over to the car with a frown. "What's got your panties in a twist?" He asked, slipping over to the driver's side and opening the door.
"It's just… We get a tip from Garth, we drive the maybe two hours it takes to get here, you have your freakin' pie, and then suddenly there's another death?"
Dean shook his head, eyebrows rising. "What's your point?"
"My point is that it seems awfully convenient that the moment we realize we have no other leads, another body turns up." He frowned. "Dean, what if this thing knows we're onto it?"
"And how the hell would it know that?" The elder asked, sliding into the Impala and slamming the door behind him.
"I don't know," Sam muttered, following suit, "but maybe it does."
"Then tell me, oh great thinker, if it knows we're here why did it kill someone else? Wouldn't it have been smarter to lie low and play it safe?"
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose as Dean put the Impala into reverse and pulled away from their parking space. "I guess you're right."
"Of course I'm right." Dean replied with a grin. "But hell, let's go see what all this fuss is about anyway, shall we?"
The fuss, it turned out, was about a personal trainer at the gym being put inside a hamster ball and made to run around, less the ball in question explode. Apparently, he hadn't been able to keep up the pace, because there were bits of bright purple hamster ball and bright red personal trainer strewn about the large auditorium with a reckless abandon.
A note, detailing what would happen to said trainer if he stopped running for longer than ten seconds, had been found in pristine condition on one of the pieces of hamster ball, and was even now being bagged and taken back to the police lab for "further analysis".
"Oh, dude, that's just gross." Dean muttered, watching the whole fiasco on the playback of the security cameras, trying not to think about it too much, despite having to see it happen over and over again in slightly grainy black and white tones.
"Yeah, tell me about it." Sam agreed, pulling on Bitchface #2 (the one that meant he was disgusted with the situation, but was going to continue down this path because he had to). "Apparently he actually did this to a few of the people who hired him. Not the nicest guy, from what I hear, which fits our M.O." He paused the video and leaned in a little closer. "Hang on a sec, is that…?"
"Is that what?" Dean asked, leaning in closer over his brother's shoulder to get a better look at the screen.
"Here," he slowed the video down so that the action inched past one frame at a time, "does that look familiar to you?" He paused the footage, tapping a finger gently to the screen over the bottom right hand corner.
There, barely visible through the grain of the film, was an arm, and on it a thin tennis bracelet that Dean found all too familiar. "Son of a bitch." He breathed, recognizing the design as one he'd seen earlier that evening.
"I don't think the 'son of a' part is exactly applicable." Sam pointed out with a frown, staring hard at the spot on the screen. "There's just one problem, Dean, we don't have any real proof."
"We could always just go get some." He offered, straightening up and heading back through the door to the security room, more than ready to go stake the bitch and move on.
After all, that had been the plan, right?
Annie was wiping down tables in the diner when Dean walked in and nodded to her before taking a set on one of the plush, faux-leather bar stools. Sam had gone back to the room to see what they could dig up on the girl before Dean staked an innocent waitress for no reason.
"Hey, kiddo, what can I get you?" She asked with her usually bright smile.
"Slice of pie and a shot of whiskey, please." The order slipped past his lips before the realization that he was in a diner not a bar clicked, and he let out a nervous chuckle. "Sorry, ah…"
Annie set a shot glass onto the smooth linoleum before him, a faint smirk on her lips at his surprised expression. "Relax; we've got a license for it." She reached under the bar and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, pouring out the shot before she nodded over her shoulder to the tier of pies. "What kind?"
Dean picked cherry, stifling a laugh at the lyrics that rose to mind, and looked Annie over closely as she cut it and slid it onto a plate. She was still wearing the angel wing earrings, which still made Dean grin, and the tennis bracelet was still wrapped around her wrist. She had dirty blond hair that reached just past her ears and soft green eyes. A smattering of freckles covered her nose and cheeks, and Dean found himself wondering where else she might have freckles.
She noticed him staring as she turned around and slid the pie onto the bar before him and quickly raised a hand to her face, a faint blush making her freckles stand out even more. "Do I have something on my face?"
He chuckled, shaking his head and tugging the pie slightly closer. "No, no, I'm sorry. I was just admiring your earrings." He looked back up at her, his gaze now trained to the silver wings that hung from her earlobes. "They don't look like most of the angel wings you see around… Where did you get them?"
"Oh!" She brightened, the hand that had been hovering near her face drifting instead to run along the earring in her left ear. "My father gave them to me."
"Must be some dad if you look like that when you talk about him." Dean found his voice wasn't as loud as it had been a moment earlier.
"Yeah," her own voice had dropped an octave or two as she continued, "we don't really talk anymore, but there used to be a time when we were barely apart." She shrugged, sighing softly. "But I've still got my siblings, so it's not so bad."
Dean nodded, knowing how she felt, and quickly knocked back his whiskey, his phone buzzing in his pocket only a few moments later. He quickly pulled it out and flipped it open; smiling at Annie as she moved off to one of the tables she hadn't finished cleaning yet. "Please tell me you got something, Sammy." He grumbled into the receiver.
"If by "something" you mean a whole lotta nothing, then yes. I have something."
Dean sighed deeply, running a hand over his face. "Define "a whole lotta nothing"."
"As in, nothing to connect her to the case. She's here, Dean, in black and white all the way back to her birth certificate."
The elder Hunter glared down at his pie as though it had personally insulted him. "Seriously?"
"Seriously. She doesn't have so much as a parking ticket, but there's no denying that the girl at the diner is the real deal."
"Great, so, now what? Call Garth and ask him if he knows what's going on?"
"Call Cas?" Sam suggested, but his tone didn't sound overly helpful.
"Let's leave him out of this until we absolutely have no other choice." Dean decided; the thought of getting Cas involved in a case painfully similar to one they'd already finished did not sit well with him. "See if Garth has anything for us, wouldja?"
"Why can't you?" Dean could practically hear Bitchface #4 (the disapproval and exasperation were evident in Sam's tone; and his arguing the subject proved it wasn't #3).
"I have an appointment with some cherry pie." Dean replied with a grin.
"Dude…"
"The actual dessert, Sammy, get your mind out of the gutter!" And before Sam could argue, he hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
"Case not going as well as you'd hoped?" Annie asked softly as she moved back behind the bar, watching him dig into the slice of pie with gusto.
"Not even close." He sighed faintly, glancing up when he heard the sound of liquid refilling his empty shot glass.
"You looked like you could use another." She smiled sweetly, snagging a glass of her own from behind the bar and pouring herself one too. "On the house, of course." She grinned at him brightly and toasted him with her glass before she knocked it back without a second thought.
Dean did the same, smiling up at her as he felt the familiar burn of alcohol slide down his throat and into his stomach. "So, Annie, are you from around here?"
She blinked, a bit surprised by the sudden question, but nodded anyway. "I'm originally from Des Moines."
When she didn't offer up any more information, Dean took it as a sign to back off, and did just that. "So do you own the hotel?"
She laughed, a rather pleasant sound, and shook her head. "No, not exactly. It used to belong to my cousin, but when no one claimed it after he died, it went to me. I was his closest living relative, or something like that, but I don't own all of it. The diner's all mine, but the hotel belongs half to me and half to the sheriff. He's a nice guy, so he lets me run it for the most part. The only reason he bought half was so that he could write things off whenever he needed to." She giggled. "He's not as dull as some people think."
Dean smiled faintly, wondering how long she'd been living on her own like this. "Ever get lonely out here all by yourself?" And he wasn't sure why that question had slipped past his lips, but there was nothing for it now.
Her eyes sparked as their gaze met, and she let a faint smirk slide onto her lips. "Depends on whether or not I'm sharing whiskey with a handsome stranger or not."
Sam jumped when the sound of wings filled the cozy hotel room and Castiel appeared by the door, his expression indeterminable. "Hello Sam."
"Hey Cas," the Hunter greeted with a nod of his head, "did Dean call you?"
"No," Cas moved over to the chair opposite Sam and sat down, "but there is something I think you should know before you become any more entangled in affairs here."
Sam raised his eyebrows sitting forward. "Right, of course, what is it?"
"You need to leave." Cas' tone was not as hard as it usually was when he gave a command like that, and the words were spoken more of a suggestion than anything else. "Preferably soon."
"Leave? Cas, why would we leave, there's a Trickster on the loose." Sam argued back, uncomprehending of the Angel's reasoning.
"Actually, it's worse than that." Cas looked close to smiling, as though he were trying to make the news sound not as bad as it really was. "But that's not the point. You and your brother need to leave, as soon as possible, and not return."
"Cas, we can't just leave. If there's something out there chomping on people, it's our job to put it down."
"That is my point, Sam," Cas leaned forward in his seat, his expression serious, "you can't "put down" this creature. The only thing you can do is run, and hope it doesn't chase you."
Sam shook his head just as Dean opened the door and slid inside, the elder casting the brunette in the trench coat a look. "Cas? What are you doing here?"
"He says we have to leave." Sam answered for him, frowning up at his brother. "But he won't tell me why."
Cas sighed faintly, not even bothering to greet Dean the way he usually did. "I told you why. It's dangerous."
"We usually do just fine with dangerous, Cas," Dean pointed out as he perched on the edge of his bed, "so what makes this creepy crawly so much worse than all the others?"
"Because it is not a creature you have ever faced before." Cas turned his blue gaze onto Dean and frowned faintly, head tipping just slightly to one side. "Dean, please, you cannot escape this thing if it believes you to be a threat. It will do worse things than kill you."
"Well why can't you take care of it, then?" Dean asked; an eyebrow arching.
Cas looked truly embarrassed for perhaps the first time since the den-of-iniquity incident, and Dean was surprised that the Angel's voice came out as a rough grumble when he replied. "It is much stronger than I am."
"So you're saying there's a nasty in town that's so big and bad we should just look the other way?" Dean clarified after a pause, looking at Cas with an annoyed expression. He never ran if he could fight, and if anyone knew that better than Sam, it was Cas.
"In a manner, yes." Cas admitted after a moment's pause. "That is what I'm saying."
"And why the hell would we do that?" Dean asked, his tone indicating that no answer was needed.
And yet Cas gave him one anyway. "Because I am asking you nicely, Dean, please just go before you get yourselves into trouble. I will not be able to protect you if it comes for you, and…" He trailed off, and Sam would have sworn there was a hitch in his voice at that admission. "Please, Dean." He finished faintly, not looking the Hunter in the eye.
"What happens to everyone else if we leave?" Sam asked, noticing the way his brother's hands clenched where they rested on his knees and knowing that he wouldn't be able to turn Cas down without very good cause.
"They will be fine, so long as this thing finishes what it came to do and moves on." Cas spoke softly, his voice once again firm and level. "It isn't here to destroy the town; that is not its purpose."
"And what is its purpose?" Dean asked, finding his voice again. "What is this thing, Cas? You said we've never hunted one before, but can you be sure of that?"
"I am positive." Cas replied promptly. "It has been decades since one walked the earth."
The brothers looked at each other and came to a silent agreement. "Cas, we can't just leave." Sam spoke softly, eyebrows knitting together. "There are innocent people here, and if there's a monster on the loose it's our job to get rid of it."
Cas stood, a scowl making his mouth curve down in an angry slash. "Very well. But if this thing catches you, you will be made to pay for interfering." He seemed about to vanish when he paused and looked at Dean. "That girl that you were flirting with at the diner, the blond."
Dean noticed Sam send him Bitchface #5 (one that basically said "you were doing what, now?"), and nodded once to Cas. "Annie, yeah, what about her?"
"She isn't a human." Cas said matter-of-factly. "At least, not in the proper sense of the term." Tipping his head off to one side when Dean opened his mouth to protest, he continued before the elder Hunter had the chance. "Seal her in Holy Oil, and you'll see what I mean."
And with a flutter of wings, the Angel was gone, and the two brothers were left to figure things out for themselves.
Annie was just leaving the diner, her friend Carol taking over for her so she could get some sleep, when she turned around to see the two boys from before not standing far from her. She smiled and moved closer to them, looking about in an attempt to understand why they were skulking over by the side of the building. "Everything alright you two? Do you need something?"
Dean smiled at her sweetly, shaking his head. "We just wanted to talk to you for a minute, if that's okay?"
She nodded, moving closer, and stopped only a few paces from them. "Sure thing, what do you need to know?"
"Honestly?" Dean pulled his lighter from his pocket and flicked it on. "We need to know if you can get out of this."
The Holy Oil lit with a flare, and the bright, dancing light from it was reflected in Annie's green eyes. "Oh, c'mon, really?" She asked with a huff, her whole demeanor changing as she looked between the two of them. "Boys, we've been through this before, I think twice is probably overkill."
"Before?" Sam asked, and earned himself a grin from the girl now wreathed in fire.
"Three guesses who, Samikins," Annie spoke with a smirk, "and it's not Sneezy or Douchey." She finished with a wink.
Sam stared at her, the phrase ringing bells in his head so loudly that he nearly missed Dean saying his name. Sam tilted his head to one side, staring hard at the girl in front of him. "…Gabriel?"
"Ding, ding, ding!" She replied, snapping her fingers and pointing at him. "Give the moose a cookie!"
Dean snapped his head around to stare at the blond, eyes going wide. "Gabriel? Archangel-turned-Trickster, should-be-dead Gabriel?" He questioned, trying to ignore the way his voice rose with indignation.
"The one and only." She waggled her eyebrows at him, and Dean had no doubt over exactly who was currently inhabiting the girl's body. "So are you going to let me out of here, or is this one of those times where you leave me to get soaking wet without a second thought?" She raised her eyebrows questioningly, folding her arms across her chest.
"Wait, so, what? You come back and decide to go on a rampage?" Sam asked; eyebrows high on his forehead as he stared incredulously at the blond. "You don't even think to tell us you're back, and instead decide to turn Trickster again and kill a couple people because you can?"
"Oh, no," she breathed, eyes narrowing, "don't you dare presume to know what happened to me, what I had to go through." Her back straightened, and Dean could see the Archangel in her bristle. "I didn't come back here to throw a tantrum and kill a few dicks, although yes, that is what I've been doing for the past week. But the reason I came back is because I was brought back, and the reason I didn't tell you was because I thought it might be better to come back with a big flourish in my proper vessel; to see the looks on your faces when I flounced in through the door and made a proper comeback."
"Speaking of, where is that little midget?" Dean asked, deciding that he should take the information one bit at a time. "Why are you running around in the Waitress of the Month?"
"Because someone else is borrowing "that little midget"." Gabriel snapped back.
"Wait, who?" Sam asked, remembering what Cas had said about the creature that would do worse than kill them.
Gabriel looked over at him, head tipping to one side. "My big sis, okay? She's the one who hauled me back here and stuck me back together."
"Your big sis?" Dean repeated.
"As in older than me, yeah," Gabriel snapped back, "and if you think me and my bros are bad, you just wait till you meet her."
Dean opened his mouth, ready to snap back with a reply of his own, but a voice he recognized cut him off, the single word ringing out through the dark parking lot and making both boys freeze. "Gabriel."
Annie's face lit up. "Heya, Sis! Sorry I missed our appointment, but these two knuckleheads," she pointed at the two boys, "jumped me before I could make a break for it."
"It is not important." The old Gabriel, the one that both boys recognized with the wavy, dirty blond hair and the amber eyes, was moving closer to them, a hand outstretched towards the circle of Holy Oil. "I'm here now, aren't I?" With a casual motion, the flames were extinguished, and the two siblings came to stand beside one another. He peered down at the circle that had once flamed brightly, and arched an eyebrow at the pair of Hunters. "Really boys? This was your plan? Sloppy."
"Sloppy tends to work for us, thanks." Dean replied with a false smile, trying to suppress the chills that were working their way down his spine from seeing those eyes and hearing that voice after all this time. "Now do you mind telling us who you are?"
Amber eyes flicked thoughtfully between the both of them before they settled on Sam, gaze almost found. "There is a hierarchy in heaven, as I'm sure you both know by now. There are the Angels, like dear darling Castiel and that brat Balthazar. Then there are the Archangels, Michael," he tipped his head slightly to indicate the girl beside him, "Gabriel, and the rest of the big boys." The signature smirk was suddenly in place, eyes flashing brightly. "And then there's me."
Dean froze, his usual expression replaced with one Sam couldn't quite identify. "What do you mean, "then there's you"?" He asked; voice soft. "What makes you so damn special that you can just come down here and start playing God?"
"Well someone had to, didn't they?" He asked; an eyebrow flicking upwards, as that amber gaze switched from one brother to the other. "I am a Seraphim. A guardian to the throne of God."
Sam stared, mouth falling open slightly as his eyebrows rose up his forehead. Dean seemed equally speechless, and the girl just behind the Archangel's old vessel tugged lightly on his brown jacket sleeve, a pout on her face. "Hey, Sis, can I have my body back now?"
The Seraphim seemed to realize that Gabriel had been left inside the girl, and quickly turned to her brother, smiling. "Apologies, of course you can have him back now." She replied, fingers of her right hand brushing up along Annie's jawbone and earning herself a smirk from the Archangel.
What happened next went instantly onto Sam's top-10 Strangest Moments list, and considering some of the stuff he'd seen in his life, it was not a list to be sniffed at.
Gabriel, the same Gabriel who'd been cut down by his own brother and said goodbye to them via porno DVD, pulled the other blond into a kiss. And sure, alright, it started off friendly enough, but then he proceeded to twirl her into a dramatic tango-esque dip and grin like a naughty schoolboy when he pulled away for air (something Sam was fairly certain he didn't need, despite his sudden panting), and a faint glow was evident on their skin.
"Oh, honey," the Archangel breathed, now back in his proper body, "you haven't lost your touch!"
She grinned up at him from her continued suspension in his arms. "Could say the same for you too, kiddo. Can't remember the last time I had such fun in a transference of Grace."
He hoisted her upright, twirling her as he did, and stood looking at the two stunned Hunters with a smug smile on his lips, an arm around her shoulders. "Admit it," he said after only a moment of looking them both over, "you missed me."
Sam recovered first, finding his voice before Dean did. "Gabriel…?"
"Yeah, Samsquatch?" He asked, eyebrows rising up his forehead.
"What's your sister's name?" And suddenly, Cas' warning about creatures that he couldn't protect them from made infinitely more sense. If Gabriel had the juice to create entire realities out of thin air, then Sam couldn't even imagine what his elder sister might be capable of.
"It's too long for you to pronounce, I'm afraid," came the soft reply, "but you can call me Ariel. It's a close enough approximation." She smiled sweetly, and Sam wasn't sure how to take that expression now that he knew the mind behind it.
"Getting chilly, dontcha think?" Gabriel suddenly piped up. "Let's take this gig inside, shall we?" And he snapped, dragging them all along with him back to their room. He plopped onto a sofa that hadn't been there before, dragging Ariel down onto it with him, his arm still about her shoulders.
"So you're the Winchesters?" Ariel asked, looking them over closely. "Fascinating."
"Mm, you should see them in action, sweetheart." Gabriel commented softly, snapping a lollipop into existence and popping it into his mouth.
She tipped her head off to one side, eyes narrowing at them. "So you're wondering what happened, correct? How Gabriel came back, and all that jazz?"
"For starters, yeah." Sam managed to get out, perching on the edge of his bed and taking a deep breath. "I mean, if you don't mind…?"
She laughed. "You keep acting as though I'm going to smite you on the spot, Sam." She tilted her head to one side, considering him. "I'm a guardian, boys; I'm not here to hurt anyone, especially not you." She grinned. "So stop looking like it's two seconds till kingdom come."
"Not here to hurt anyone?" Dean finally managed to find his voice. "People are dying, Ariel, are you saying that you had nothing to do with it?"
"Technically, yes." She replied smoothly. "I won't deny that."
"So, what, you just decided to let your little brother run around as a Trickster for the fun of it?" He was actually glaring at her now, something Sam found to be a bad idea, despite the promise she'd just made. "What gives either of you the right to deal out justice as you see fit?"
"These weren't random attacks, Dean," she replied coolly, "Death and I had a deal."
Dean held up his hands, backing up enough to sit on the edge of his bed. "Of course. Because celestial beings making deals with Horsemen makes perfect sense."
"Well if you knew the whole story, sourpuss, then it might." Gabriel snapped back with a frown, clearly defensive of his sister even though it was obvious she could take care of herself. "Seraphim have got some serious juice, there's no denying that, but it takes a special sort of someone to haul an angel back down to earth."
"And Death is that someone?" Sam asked, eyebrows rising again.
"I don't know why you two are getting so high and mighty about all this," Gabe groused, ignoring Sam's question, "Dean sold his soul to haul your ass back, and you're picking on my big sis for agreeing to a little role-playing with big daddy Death?" He snorted. "Yeah boys, real mature."
Sam snorted softly, a sound that was almost a laugh, and looked from the two celestial beings to his brother and then back again. "So, what, we throw a welcome back party and pretend everything's okay?"
"No, Dean grumbled, "because everything is not okay." He fixed Ariel with a look. "What do you want?"
"I wanted my brother back." She replied simply, giving him a faint smile. "And now that I have him, there's not much else I need." She tipped her head off to one side, raising a hand. "Be sure to call me if you need me, boys. I'll never be far away." And with a snap and the sound of rustling wings, she vanished.
Dean flopped backwards with a sigh, wiping a hand down his face as he let his eyes slipped closed. "Awesome."
Dean was putting their things back into the trunk of the Impala, going over the arsenal and assuring himself that it was all there where he'd left it. He was just checking the salt rounds in his shotgun when the sound of wings reached him, and he was assaulted by a pair of arms wrapping around him and pulling him into a stiff hug. "Whoa, Cas, personal space!"
The Angel pulled away hurriedly, nodding. "I apologize, but I am relieved to see you are safe." He looked Dean over, as though to be sure of this fact, and then took a hurried step back. "Is Sam also alright?"
"He's fine, Cas." Dean assured him. "But why didn't you just tell us it was your big sis that was running around?"
Cas looked flustered, as though unsure of how to answer, and finally managed a shrug. "I was unsure of how to say it. The Seraphim are not often on earth, and when they are it is usually for some more serious purpose."
Dean sighed, closing the trunk and looking Cas over. "It's okay. We can't all be proud of our family."
Cas' head snapped back up, blue eyes bright with anger. "I am very proud of my sister, Dean. Do not think for a moment that I am ashamed to call her family." He paused, letting that sink in. "I was merely unsure of how to properly explain the situation."
Dean held up his hands in surrender, leaning back against his car. "Alright, alright. But next time can you just tell us what we're dealing with instead of giving us vague hints here and there?"
Cas gave him a short nod, eyes losing their anger. "Of course, Dean." He agreed softly. "I apologize for not doing so in the first place."
Dean shrugged. "Don't worry about it, just don't do it again."
Cas looked up when Sam left the room, moving across the lot to them. "Where are you headed now?" He asked, tipping his head to one side.
"Garth called and said there's a case for us a few states over." Dean moved over to the driver's side door and pulled it open. "We'll call if we need you, though."
Cas paused for a moment before he moved over to Dean's side and look at him seriously. "Does that offer go both ways, Dean?"
For a moment, the Hunter wasn't sure what to say, but then he grinned and nodded. "Of course, Cas. You know that."
A smile spilled onto the Angel's face, and as suddenly as he'd come, he vanished again.
"What was that all about?" Sam asked.
"Nothing," Dean replied automatically, still looking at the space Cas had just vacated, "just making a promise I should have made sooner." He slid into the Impala, slammed the door behind him, and revved up her engine, smiling as it began to purr.
He had a feeling that maybe this time; everything would work out just fine.
Oh my word, this turned out waaaay longer than I had originally intended. I love it, though, so I think that makes it all okay. X)
Since I am a firm believer in bringing Gabriel back (I personally think they never should have gotten rid of him in the first place), I figured I'd offer up an explanation for how it could happen. And yeah, a big sister swooping in to save the day isn't the best, most original idea, but who cares?
Hopefully now you'll understand the reason for the setting in my AU stories, meaning the diner of course, but if not, oh well. XD
There will be more chapters later, once I've finished typing them up, so keep an eye out.
Reviews are lovely and smiled upon by humans and angels alike, and you will make me wonderfully happy if you drop a line about what you did or did not like about this story. Even if all you want to tell me is you think it's rubbish, I'll be pleased to know someone actually read through this whole thing. XD
Supernatural and all related characters belong to: Eric Kripke
The album "Brand New Eyes" and the song "Playing God" belong to: Paramore
Ariel belongs to: Silver Flame Alchemist (aka Me)