You're a mess, tangled in your confidence.
You think you're Heaven-sent.
Well, you're unstoppable,
Your walls are impassible.
"Don't You Dare Forget The Sun" by Get Scared
Dean sighed through his hands.
"So, Dad put Sammy in this...drug program thingy."
"Yes, Dean."
"And now Heaven wants to kill him because he's dangerous."
It was all starting to sound like a James Bond film, the kind of movie he'd used to go out and see before Heaven took over. Sam was some sort of secret spy, Cass, his old war buddy.
"It's not that simple." Cass was still drinking his lemonade. He spun the straw between his fingers, a nervous sort of look on his face. He glanced around the restaurant. "Dean, I don't like this place anymore. Can we go?"
"Not a chance, Castiel," Dean said slowly. There was an uncomfortable anger boiling in his chest. He thought of Sam, waiting for him at the Roadhouse. How lonely he must be. "I need to know. I need to protect Sam. Why does Heaven want him?"
Cass didn't answer right away. He was staring glassily at the two men seated in the corner, mouth slightly open. The music had grown dim and crackled, and Dean heard laughter from the table there. He followed Cass' gaze nervously.
"Cass? Answer me, man," he rapped his knuckles on the worn wood of their own table, heart speeding up. When he got no reply, he stood up, slamming his fist down, a wave of frustration crashing through his veins. "Why won't you fucking talk to me?"
The restaurant went silent. Tom Petty still wailed on the radio, but he sounded like he was underwater, and Charlie stared open-mouthed from the kitchen doorway, a wet rag hanging from her pale fingers. In the corner, the tall man turned his face, startled.
"Dean?" asked Sam Winchester, from the corner table of the restaurant. "What are you doing here?"
...
Lucifer spun beautiful webs. Glittering tales of rebellion and redemption, revenge in it's most elegant form. The threads of glory and the threads of retribution and Sam was so twisted, so caught in that sticky fabric that he almost didn't notice the cold look in Lucifer's eyes when he entered the restaurant.
"Let's sit here," he'd said. "Away from any...distractions."
Sam, dazzled, agreed.
It had started at the Roadhouse, when he awoke with a massive hangover and the vague scent of embarrassment. Sure enough, when he bundled down the rickety stairs into the bar, he was greeted with an bitch-faced Jo and an amused looking Lucifer. Lucy from college. Lucy the roommate, the role model.
Lucy the Matchmaker.
Over a breakfast of burnt eggs (Jo wasn't exactly her mother) and lukewarm orange juice salvaged from the mini-fridge, Lucifer told Sam tales of revolution. He'd left Stanford after Sam, gone to New York for a few days. He'd wanted a job at Heaven (his brother and father had worked there), but it was only seconds after he entered the building when he noticed things were wrong.
"Bad vibes, right," Lucifer had said with a wry grin. "All sorts of bad, bad vibes."
After a little research, he did a little more digging. Found evidence of not just 'bad vibes', but really, really effing rotten vibes, with a capital 'F'. Dissolution of public education. Corruption in police forces, corruption in the courts. Bribery, unlawful imprisonment of citizens, torture even. Heaven had done it all. A man called Azazel and his partner Michael.
"Human testing," Lucifer had said. "Azazel is a bad, bad man."
Hell if Sam was to argue. He remembered waking up for nights when he was young, just because he could hear his older brother's screams for Mother through thin motel walls. He remembered the hollow-eyed looks his father used to give him as he bent, sore-backed, over a bottle of lukewarm beer after a long, long vampire hunt.
Azazel was a bad, bad man. But Lucifer knew how to stop him.
He promised to tell Sam over dinner, if only Sam was buying. With a snort and a derisive laugh, Sam agreed.
He hadn't even noticed Dean and Castiel were missing.
...
Sam looked between his brother and Castiel. They were sitting together, hands almost touching over their half-finished drinks. It was an odd scene, and watching it made Sam's head ache. He blinked, once.
"Dean? What are you doing here?"
Lucifer shoved his hat a little lower on his head, avoiding the sudden stare from Castiel. Sam couldn't fathom why, but he shook that train of thought from his mind and focused on his brother.
"Are you guys okay? Why'd you leave? Did you get a tip on Azazel from Bobby, or something?"
Dean shuffled out of the booth, scraping a hand through his short, spiked hair. Sam could have sworn he saw a slash of blood on his flannel shirt, and he took another step forward, gasping.
"Dean–you're bleeding?"
"No. No–it's not mine. I mean–" Dean growled frustrations under his breath. He paused to glance at Castiel. The other man remained seated, now focusing his unnerving stare directly at Sam. There was an odd emotion buried there, under all that blue. Sam could not quite place it. "It's complicated, Sammy. Cass had to–"
"We killed Balthazar," Castiel muttered suddenly. "It was dark and he couldn't see what was right and what was wrong. He lost faith, so we killed him." He turned away from Sam to look down at his hands. "We killed Balthazar."
There was a silence. From the kitchen, Charlie gave a squeak. Dean ignored her, instead giving Castiel a look that was a curious mixture of "I want to hug you" and "I want to slap you". Sam gawked, confusion lapping at his brain.
Then, as if the day couldn't get stranger, Lucifer finally rose from his chair. It scraped across the cheap linoleum, and he removed his hat with an elegant, cold sweep.
"I thought I told you that British bastard was bad news when you brought him home, Cassie," he said.
...
Castiel did not hate a lot of people. He felt an unusually low amount of anything, actually, his bones just tired of growing weary in the absence of friendship. Connections were always severed, his father used to say. And so love is always cut out of your heart like a gutted fish.
Although Castiel did not hate a lot of people, he did hate one in particular.
Lucifer was a bad, bad man.
"Sam, get away from him," he snarled, standing abruptly to shove the younger Winchester away with one hand. "He's dangerous. Unpredictable. He's like the–"
"The Devil, Castiel?" Lucifer laughed, and it was a tinny sound. "Oh, well that's clever. You were never one for imagination, were you, brother? Even when you were a kid, always cruelly droning on about 'God' and 'perfection'. Such an annoying little angel."
"I was the cruel one?" Castiel was shouting now. "You left me for college and I never heard from you again until you tried to kill me!" He clenched his fists, taking a step forward so that the two were facing each other in the dust air, tensions taut. "I trusted you. You were going to bring Gabe back, bring Father back–"
"You really believed that Heaven crap, didn't you, Cassie?" Lucifer laughed. "All that bullshit they fed you about the family?" He lurched forward, so that he and Castiel were nearly face-to-face, some invisible fiery line stopping them from ripping each other's throats out. "They're all dead, brother. Gabriel. Father. Azazel and Michael are in power now."
For a moment, Dean was sure Castiel was going to run away, punch Lucifer. Instead, however, he stepped back, shaking his head mechanically, remorsefully.
"I've done so much wrong," he said. "All because of you."
It was then that the police came. Charlie had her cell phone out in the kitchen, and the sirens broke the fighting up with a single shiny wail. The four brothers looked at each other once.
And then they ran.
...
Castiel Novak's residence. 2007.
Lucifer held the camera before him with a lazy grin, his blonde hair sticky with the afternoon heat. He pointed the lenses at the assembled group and gave a crooked thumbs up.
"Okay, guys. On three. One, two–hey, Cassie!" Lucifer leaned around the camera to glare at his youngest brother. "You gotta actually smile for this one. Take that stick out of your ass for once."
Castiel looked disgruntled. Besides him, Gabriel reached up to tousle his dark hair.
"Yeah kiddo," he giggled. "Lemme see those pearly whites!" He reached out to grab his brother's face, but was thwarted by Castiel's surprisingly quick reflexes. He leaped backwards into Balthazar's arms, clutching to his boyfriend's jacket in somewhat lackluster mock fear.
"Help!" he shouted, with a horrifyingly fake gasp. "I'm being harassed!"
"Alright, alright, ladies," Lucifer groaned from behind the camera again. "I ain't got all day you know."
Gabriel was too busy trying to slap Castiel to listen. Balthazar had given up getting between them. He sighed dramatically, shooting Lucifer a sympathetic look. It seemed Castiel was winning the slap-battle. Finally, Gabriel broke away, hands raised in surrender.
"Okay! Okay, you win!" he gasped out a laugh. "I guess we got rid of that stick, then."
Balthazar caught Castiel before he could slap his brother again. With a giggle, he placed him back on his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.
Gabriel followed suit, somewhat reluctantly.
"Right! One more shot before I head back to work!" He gave Lucifer a thumbs-up. "Hit it, bitch!"
When the flash faded, Lucifer brought up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, grinning back at his family. He sauntered over, shoving the camera into Castiel's hands.
"Here," he said. "Email it to me when it downloads."
Castiel smiled.
"You're too lazy for your own good, Lucifer," he sighed, pocketing the digital camera. "But fine. I'll email it to you."
"Atta boy," Lucifer reached over to pull his brother into a tight hug, a stupid grin plastered over his face. "You know, I always liked you the best."
Ignoring Gabriel's shouts of treason, and Castiel's muffled complaints of claustrophobia, he laughed again, and hugged tighter.
...
A/N: Because this is, like, two and a half weeks late, I will update at least once more this week, probably twice more. I've got a lot of free time on my hands now, but the last month a super busy, so I'm really sorry for that long wait! I hope this dish of family angst/totally shameless fluff can cure your ills.
It's my birthday tomorrow! Woo! My cake was supposed to look like the Psych signature pineapple, but my twin is being an assbutt (love you, sis) and doesn't like frosting. Oh well. She's still a prettier, smarter, more bad-ass version of me. :D
Also: I am proud to announce that my good friend Mana Walker is going to be helping me on all of my Supernatural fics, including possiblly being my beta for this one, and the upcoming sequel. If you haven't already, check her work out. She's awesome.
Thanks to all who favorited, followed, reviewed, or just read.
You are magical.
Love, chaoswalking