Sam took a deep breath, resisting the urge to look to the right at the wooded area beside the cemetery, where Gabriel and some of the angels were hiding. He also resisted the urge to look toward the sparser gathering of trees out in front of him where Castiel waited with the other half of their army. Instead, he stared dead ahead and tried to calm down. He knew Gabriel had warded his brain, but if he let his nerves show on his face, it wouldn't matter.

Exhaling, Sam gave himself three more seconds, and then he spoke. "Lucifer." He put his hand against the back of his neck and looked around, putting a conflicted expression on his face. "I, uh, I know you still can't sense me because of… whatever Castiel did to me, but I'm at Stull Cemetery in Stull, Kansas. I think, uh, I think we might have things to talk about."

"Well, this is a surprise."

Sam startled—only half-faked—and whirled around to find a face he hadn't seen since they warded the Devil out of his dreams. "I'm glad you heard me."

Lucifer shrugged, hands resting comfortably in his pockets as he started to circle Sam from a distance. "I was in the area. Funny coincidence, huh?"

"You were?" Sam asked, feigning surprise. "I just…" he sighed and glanced around, "…thought it would be fitting if I ended everything where it started. Lawrence is about twenty minutes away, and this place is supposed to be demonic or something, and…" He trailed off.

Lucifer didn't necessarily look convinced, but he didn't argue, keeping his eyes on Sam as he slowed to a stop. "So, are you ready to give up your body, no strings attached?"

Sam snorted. "Of course not." He folded his arms over his chest, meeting Lucifer's raised brow with narrow eyes. "Look, I get that Dean and I are 'destined' to be your vessels and fight and whatever, but Liam's got nothing to do with any of this. If I give you my body, I want your word that you won't go after him." He got faster and louder as he went. "And if your stupid fight destroys the whole freaking planet, but you win, then you find him, and you find Bobby, and you put them somewhere safe. Either stick them in Heaven when you take it over, or create a special wing in Hell that isn't awful, or something."

Pursing his lips, Lucifer thought over the proposition with more than a little sarcasm and patronization on his face. "So, I get your body and the chance to play my part in this mess, and all I have to do is keep two measly humans safe? Seems like a suspiciously good deal to me."

"Yeah," Sam scoffed. "Well, it's not like I even know you'll keep your word. I'm hardly going to push my luck." He glanced away, putting that conflicted look on his face again. "We're all adults. Even Bobby chose to be a hunter, though I doubt he knew what it would lead to. But Liam didn't choose any of this." Then, knowing what he did about the Devil, he laughed sarcastically. "We're both standing here because we are what our fathers made us. Do you really want me to do to my son what our dads did to us?"

Lucifer offered a sideways kind of nod. "That's fair. So, I keep little man—"

"And Bobby."

"—and his babysitter safe, and I get your body. Hmm…"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Come on, Lucifer. You've been trying to get me to surrender my body for months, and now you're gonna pretend to consider this deal like you might refuse it? I can't even do anything to force you to hold up your end of the bargain, so there's no reason for you to tell me no."

Lucifer opened his mouth to respond, but he stopped short, and it was quiet enough for Sam to hear why. Turning, Sam faced the road as the Impala rolled onto the grass, eyes widening. They stood there in silence as the vehicle crept closer and eventually stopped about ten feet away. Easy. Don't panic now. Just stick to the plan.

Opening the door, a very somber Dean got out and slammed it behind him. He walked up to them, his attention entirely on Sam.

"Dean—"

"Don't do this, Sam." Dean kept his voice level but put some emotion on his face, like it was a struggle to keep it together; like he was desperate.

Sam sighed, fully facing his brother and trying to ignore the chill that ran down his spine when he gave Lucifer his back. "Dean, go home."

Dean shook his head. "No way."

"Dean…" Sam reached up and rubbed his forehead. "I am tired, okay? I have been fighting this—this thing inside me since the day I was born." He scoffed, spreading his arms. "Do you have any idea how exhausting that is? Trying to go against everything you were born to be over and over and over?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean got louder, incredulousness taking over his face. "You weren't born to do this! You were born to be a Winchester and a hunter and—"

"Oh, give it up, Dean! God or destiny or whatever you wanna call it has been planning this since before Mom and Dad even met!"

Dean opened his mouth.

"Just let me do this. Let me get this whole trainwreck over with, okay?" Man, I really hope Michael finds us soon, or Dean and I are gonna run out of things to say.

"No, Sam. I'm not gonna let you be a hand puppet for the literal Devil."

Sam cocked his head, a challenging look on his face. "Right. And what are you gonna do to stop me?"

Hesitating, Dean broke eye contact for a moment, but then he looked back with twice the determination. "Whatever I have to."

Before Sam could even think up a response, he heard the flutter of wings and suddenly Adam—well, no, Michael—was standing several feet behind Dean.

Okay. It's happening. Deep breath. Sam, pretending he didn't know his half-brother's involvement, cocked his head with a bewildered, "Adam? But… you were dead."

Dean whirled around, finishing the clueless act he had started when his response to the sound of wings was to look around.

"Michael." Lucifer didn't sound angry, but he was guarded. "Long time, no see."

"We have our vessels." Michael sounded entirely monotonous. "It's time."

Dean spread his arms. "So what if we're here? We're still saying no."

Sam sighed. "I'm not saying no anymore, Dean." We need to keep them distracted until—

Lucifer startled, jumping to the left just in time to avoid the hand that had been reaching for his jacket.

"Heya, guys." Gabriel gave them one of his usual smirks, but Sam could tell the situation was killing him.

"Gabriel." Michael clenched his fists.

"Can we talk?" Gabriel let his gaze slide between his brothers, lowering his extended arm and slipping his hand into his pocket. "For once in our very long lives, can we just talk?"

Lucifer stared with an unreadable expression, but his silence said he might be willing to listen. Michael was not.

"You cannot convince me to disappoint our father like you have."

Gabriel sighed. "How do you even know what would disappoint him? You haven't seen him in eons. Maybe he's changed his mind. Maybe he doesn't even care anymore."

"Enough!" Michael glared. "I'm a good son. I won't let him down."

Wearing a resigned look that said he knew this was going to be the outcome, Gabriel nodded. "Then I guess it's time to circle the wagons."

In an instant, the group was surrounded by twenty-three angels. Neither Lucifer nor Michael looked particularly concerned, and Michael gave a condescending shake of the head to Castiel, who was standing closer to the confrontation than any of his fellow soldiers.

"I was told you were up to something," the oldest archangel stated.

Castiel stared back, just as unreadable. "It seems I was able to stay one step ahead." He lifted his hand, displaying a Molotov cocktail of holy oil, and he was chucking it at Michael's head before anyone could react. Michael was engulfed in flames, a cry tearing from his throat as he disintegrated.

That'll buy us some time. Sam knew it was a temporary fix, but at least it would allow them to focus on—

"How dare you?" Lucifer lifted his hand and snapped, and Sam could only imagine what it was supposed to do, but Lucifer's face quickly melted into confusion.

"Sorry, Lucifer, but I'm stronger than the average angel." Castiel glanced over at Gabriel.

Gabriel spread his arms slightly, attempting reason one last time. "Come on, Lucifer. Do you really want to do this? Let's just—"

Sam felt the ground disappear, slamming into the dirt before he even realized he had been sent flying. Awesome. He rolled over, pushing against the grass as pain reverberated through his spine and ribcage. "Dean!"

"I'm here," Dean hurried, crouching down and grabbing Sam by the arm. "We don't have much time before Michael gets back, and Cas has—"

"Shh!" Even though Lucifer was distracted by his fight with the angels, Sam wasn't sure the archangel wouldn't be able to hear Dean whisper that Castiel had the key to the Cage. "Okay." Sam got his feet beneath him and turned to face the fight.

It was impossible to make out what was happening. There was a swarm of angels using their powers to attack the center of the mob, some of them being thrown away from the main fight before they ran back. From the middle, Sam could see flashes of golden light he could only assume were coming from the two archangels, and then there would be flashes of more bluish-white light that came from the less powerful angels. Then, mixed in, was some kind of rainbow light he had never seen before.

"Sammy!"

Sam jerked himself out of his thoughts. "Right." He gave Dean a nod, and they both took off running toward the Impala. "It looks like they're doing a pretty good job with Lucifer, but that's with Gabriel's help. Once Michael comes back—"

"And if Michael brings an army from Heaven," Dean interrupted, popping the trunk and grabbing a pistol that was already loaded with bullets they had carved Enochian symbols into. "Here."

Sam took it and finished Dean's thought, sneaking another look at the ongoing brawl. "We'll be screwed."

Dean pulled out a weapon of his own, racking the slide. "Come on. Let's see if we can get a few of these into the Devil before his oh-so-pleasant brother comes back."

"Yeah." Sam looked at Dean, and they gave each other a, 'here we go, and if we die, I love you' look.

They took off toward the mob, and as soon as Sam was close enough to be heard, he called out. "Coming through!" He was immediately hit by a body—Ezekiel?—falling backward. "Woah!"

"Sorry," the angel slurred, pressing a hand to his stomach, where his Grace was bleeding through his fingers.

Sam dragged him back a few more paces, placing him on the ground. "Just rest a second."

"No, I—"

"That's an order." Sam didn't wait around for the command to be followed, pushing his way into the fight.

It took a minute to make out what was happening through the tangled limbs and flashes and dress suits. Lucifer and Gabriel were in the center of the circle, trying to get their hands around each other's necks, and there was a transparent, gold and rainbow barrier around them both.

Cursing under his breath, Sam lifted his gun and fired just as Lucifer tore at Gabriel's face with what looked like claws. Of course, the bullet hit the barrier, and Sam swore again. Gabriel and Lucifer have to both be fighting to keep the barrier up and tear it down.

"Gabriel!" Sam pushed another angel aside. "Focus on putting a single hole in the barrier, and wherever it is, I'll get there and shoot through it!" Michael is going to come back any second. If we don't—

Sam tensed at the sound of a gunshot, and he knew Dean must have fired, but he couldn't see anything on the other side of the fight. He could tell Lucifer wasn't deterred, though.

"Sam." Castiel's hand closed around Sam's arm, sudden and hard. "Michael is back. I'm going to help Dean." He was gone before Sam could reply.

Great. Sam flinched slightly, closing his eyes as blood sprayed over his face.

"Malchiel!"

Dragging his sleeve over his face, Sam opened his eyes and tried to make out the details of the barrier. Is the rainbow light Gabriel? He started to maneuver around the flashing lights. Crap. I gotta get in there. He blew his bangs out of his eyes. Here we go.


"You can't beat me, Dean."

Dean flashed a smirk despite the panic in his chest. "Maybe not alone, but…" he gestured toward Castiel, "…I've got him and Sam and your seriously fed up brother."

Michael opened his mouth, but he was cut off by Castiel appearing behind him. Michael whirled around and threw his hand out, probably intending to launch Castiel through the air, but Castiel had too much archangel Grace for that. Dean sidestepped and raised his weapon, trying to keep his friend out of his line of fire, which was easier said than done.

Cursing, Dean moved a little closer and then to the left, aiming again, but Castiel and Michael were moving too fast. Blocking each other's punches, stepping to the right and then back as they circled each other. I have to get closer.

He barely had the thought when a duo of angels appeared on either side of the conflict. Now it'll be even harder. Though he couldn't exactly complain. Gabriel was taking on Lucifer, so honestly, more of the angels should have been helping him fight Michael to keep the tables balanced. Whatever. He broke into a run, trying to get in position, but he was suddenly flying through the air. Pain exploded through his body, a sharp, shattering sensation burning its way through his ribcage and hips.

Awesome. Dean pushed himself up, head pounding, and he didn't know what had broken, but there was at least one bone that was doing something it wasn't supposed to. Probably more.

Shaking himself, he looked down at the gun, relieved he hadn't accidentally pulled the trigger in his desperate attempt not to drop the weapon when he hit the ground. Okay. He took a breath—a painful one—and started moving back toward the now three-against-one fight. I have to stay where he can't see me coming.

Light exploded off to the left, and a bullet discharged a second later.

"Sammy!" It came out instinctually, but there was no way Sam could hear him, so he pushed down his instincts and moved toward the fight with Michael as more angels showed up. It looked like they were new angels—not ones coming from the fight with Lucifer—which matched the plan. They had decided to gradually introduce their soldiers, wanting to make Lucifer and Michael think there was no way to know how many of them there were and when they would stop showing up.

Okay, let's… Dean crouched slightly, trying to stay behind Michael as much as he could. He caught Castiel's eye—or at least, he thought he did; it was hard to tell when he was so far away—and Castiel seemed to understand he needed to keep Michael from turning around. Dean kept moving, occasionally sliding behind an angel to keep hidden, and he couldn't help the sick twist in his gut every time Michaeal landed a blow.

Is this what war is like? Dean ducked down as an angel was thrown through the air over his head. I can't even tell what's going on. It's just bodies everywhere. He glanced to the left just as a geyser of blood spurted from the shoulder of a woman in a gray suit, and then his knee was hitting the ground as he dodged a flash of light that seemed almost like a physical projectile. Crap.

Castiel staggered backward, blood gushing from his throat, and Michael lunged forward, immediately intercepted by three angels who tackled him to the ground. Dean ducked to the right, but Michael was only fifteen feet away, maybe less, and even with the angels on him, Dean knew he had to at least try and take a shot. There was another blood explosion as Michael disintegrated one of the angels holding him down, and Dean took off running, closing as much distance as he could before raising the gun and firing.

Dean cursed immediately, seeing the way the female angel grabbed her arm and toppled to the side, and he ran toward her despite knowing as soon as Michael saw him, he would be catapulted again.

"I'm fine!" the angel shouted—was her name Anabelle or something?—holding out a bloody hand. "It just grazed me. Don't worry."

Dean looked back at the fight, where angels continued to pile on, light blazing from their hands. He glanced at Castiel, who was sitting up with a hand to his neck, and then tried to find where Michael's head might be, knowing the bullets in his gun wouldn't kill but could at least knock the enemy out of the game for a few minutes.

"Long time, no see, Dean."

Dean really didn't know what else to do besides swear again. "Hey, Zach." He turned away from the fight with Michael, a sardonic smile twisting his lips. "I really can't tell you how good it is to see you again." His tone was dismissive, but when he saw just how many angels Zachariah had brought with him—at least fifty, probably more—he found himself once again swallowing the fact he was going to die today.

Dean cleared his throat, gesturing toward the fight, where Castiel was back on his feet and going after Michael. "You know, I'd love to chat, but I'm kinda busy right now. Hey, guys!"

Zachariah kept staring at him, hands in his pockets, wearing that sickening smirk that made Dean want to punch his face in. So self-righteous. So convinced every single thing Dean would try would fail. So… punchable.

"You wanna keep these angels away from me and Cas so we can take care of Michael?" He didn't wait for them to respond, turning back toward Michael and Castiel and hoping the angels they had recruited would be enough to take on Heaven's forces. "Cas!"

He took off running.


Flipping over backwards, Amane left Mariel's shoulder behind and landed on the ground a few feet away as the lifeless body crumpled to the ground. "Come on, now. Are you really telling me that in all the time I've been away from Heaven, you guys haven't gotten any better at fighting?" Her eyes flashed across the battlefield, taking in the skirmishes between small groups of two, three, and four.

"Oi! Amane!"

She turned toward the sound of Balthazar's voice, scanning a few different fights before she found him driving his blade into Abijah's neck. "Bal—"

"Over there!" Balthazar shoved the body aside and pointed to his right, her left, where it looked like Adriel and Zillah were being overpowered. "Hurry!" And then he whirled around to stop Shiphrah from stabbing him.

Amane took off, fleeting steps carrying her across the field, and she wished they were closer to the actual cemetery, where there were headstones she could use to get higher. She had always preferred having the high ground. Blades kill regardless of the direction they come from. She veered to the left, going somewhat around the fight and rushing up behind Puah, ducking low and driving her angel blade up under Puah's ribcage.

"Thank you, Abigail," Zillah breathed, putting a hand to her chest.

Amane gave her a sideways glance, annoyed by their inability to call her by her new name, but it was hardly a priority in the situation they were in. "Focus on Adriel." Following her own advice, she moved toward the last two angels in this group, trying to figure out the best way to get her enemy cornered.

"Amane!"

Amane's attention flashed back and forth between the angel—Keziah, she thought—who had called her and the sight of Zillah skewering another angel's chest while Adriel kept their blade-wielding hand restrained. They've got this. "Keziah!"

"Help!"

Amane took off again, jumping over the occasional body as she moved toward where she thought the voice was coming from. It was impossible to try and sense someone's specific Grace in the absolute pandemonium that was around her, so—

"Keziah!" Boots pounded into the dirt, thin arms pumping as she ran for what looked like her sister. "I'm com—"

Someone—it looked like Reuel—plunged his angel blade into Keziah's heart, light pouring from her mouth and eyes before she crumpled to the ground. Amane allowed herself a fraction of a second of grief, but that was all.

"Reuel!" Amane closed the last five feet and tried to swipe at his side, but he was too quick, and the second he moved, she saw Othniel was on his other side. She tried to move right, but her foot caught the edge of a dip in the ground, and she tumbled to the grass before rolling back onto her feet as smoothly as she could. "Do you really think a two-to-one fight is going to deter me?" She wet her lips, hoping a bit of banter would give her time to figure out the best way to attack.

"It seems the… degenerates you've recruited are more powerful than we suspected," Reuel said, arching a brow over a cold, dark brown eye.

Amane snorted, taking half a step back and being sure to stay aware of the other fights going on around her. "Stronger than you, you mean." She shrugged. "We have a few tricks up our sleeves, that's all. Drank a couple magic potions."

Reuel opened his mouth to respond, but Amane lunged forward. She knew she would need to hit them with something different because they were expecting her to use the blade, so she conjured some Grace to the fingers of her free hand and starting going for their weak points.

It had advantages, her small body. She had never encountered an angel in a child's body, and while she knew it had been done, they didn't tend to use them as permanent vessels or vessels they fought in. Because of that, Kaori's slight, fourteen-year-old frame could slip in and out of places most angels didn't even think to defend.

Yes, it had advantages, but that didn't mean this fight was going to be an easy one. Though, as she sank her angel blade into Othniel's neck, she found herself feeling much more hopeful about the battle than she had when it started.


Castiel rolled over and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, coughing up a mouthful of blood. He saw Michael approaching on his left, and he quickly stood, just barely resisting the urge to check and make sure the key was still in his pocket. He knew Michael would notice if he did, so he hadn't checked it once, but there was this recurring anxiety that told him he was going to go for it at the critical moment, and it wouldn't be there.

"I assume my abhorrent brother gave you some of his Grace, and that's why I can't kill you as easily as I'd like." Michael glowered, stalking closer, but Castiel took some satisfaction from the blood and burns on the ever-superior face. "But having a little archangel Grace doesn't make you one of us, boy."

Over Michael's shoulder, Castiel saw movement, and he knew it was Dean, but he didn't dare put his attention on it. Instead, he pressed a hand to his side, where his Grace was throbbing madly, and he gave Michael an expression bearing as much indifference as Castiel knew how to wear on his features.

"That's good. I would hate to be one of you." Tongue flashing over his lip, he stood in place, not approaching to continue the fight, but not backing up no matter how close Michael got.

"You're an angel," Michael hissed, fists clenched at his sides, feet coming to a halt just a few yards away. "You're supposed to do the will of God. You're supposed to be one of His servants."

Castiel tilted his head slightly, being sure to wear condescension on his face. "Is your God really so powerless?" He paused. "If God wanted to turn me to dust where I'm standing, don't you think He could?"

"God doesn't always stop evil. Sometimes, He lets things run their course."

"Sometimes, the things that appear evil are actually His will. Or have you forgotten the flood?" Castiel smirked faintly. "Perhaps you misunderstood. Perhaps this fight, right now, is your fight with Lucifer, and the Paradise that will be established after is actually just a world where humanity isn't under threat of you and your brother obliterating them." He pressed down a little harder, the pain in his side increasing. "Since my rebellion, I've considered a lot. I've compared what I've seen God do with what you've told me He's done, and I've found several discrepancies. Maybe I should take His word for it and not yours."

Michael snarled. "You claim to know Him better than—"

Michael's head snapped forward, blood spraying from his forehead. Castiel let out a sigh, allowing himself a grimace now that Michael wasn't watching his face so closely. He wasn't sure what had been done to his Grace, but whatever it was, it was growing increasingly painful.

"Well, that's another hit," Dean said, walking a little closer as Michael tried to peel himself off the dirt. "He's about to chuck me across the graveyard, so tell me, how are you holding up?"

"Fine," he lied. "You?"

"I'm good." Dean gave an equally deceptive answer. "It's getting kind of hard to breathe. I think my ribs are—"

Castiel tensed, watching with an overwhelming sense of helplessness as Dean's body was thrown through the air, but Dean had hit the ground before Castiel could even think about flying over and trying to catch him. Instead, he put his focus on Michael, who was still on one knee but rising to his feet.

"What's wrong?" Michael wiped blood from his face, sneering. "Am I hurting your precious Dean?"

Castiel feigned indifference. "He's strong. He'll survive whatever you put him through, and I know you can't kill him. You still need him to be your vessel." He flexed his hands, an odd glow forming over his skin, a sheen caught somewhere between the golden hue of an archangel's Grace and the blue and white of a regular angel's; something silver and cold. "And, if you're going to bring personal relationships into it, you should include Sam and Liam and Bobby, as they are all quite precious to me, too."

Then, without waiting for a response, Castiel rushed forward.


Sam groaned, struggling to roll over and grabbing the back of his head. Well, at least the barrier is down now. He stared up at the sky for a moment, wondering if it was actually the shade of blue he was seeing or if he had been hit so hard colors were starting to distort. He turned his head to the right, squinting slightly, and he could see there was just a bit of the rainbow light still dissipating into the air.

Gripping his gun with one hand, he moved the other from his bloody hair to the ground, trying to push himself up. He scanned the field, and he had never wished more that angels dressed in a way that made them more identifiable as individuals. He had no idea if the majority of the angels he saw were from Heaven or from their own team. It doesn't matter. Either way, none of them can help us right now. It's me and Gabriel against Lucifer, and Castiel and Dean against Michael.

Sam pushed again, getting his legs beneath him, and he stood up despite the out-of-body sensation spreading through his body. "Okay," he whispered, watching as Gabriel cut through the side of Lucifer's neck, light flaring from his hands. "I shot him at least twice, and I think it's slowing him down, but…" He closed his eyes, nausea rising in his stomach. You're fine. Don't think about it.

Forcing his eyes open, he tried to take a step, but he lost his balance and toppled back to the ground. Okay, so walking is not an option. Time for Plan B. He rolled onto his stomach, extending the pistol in front of him. If I can just hit him one more time, Gabriel might be able to get the upper hand. He tried to aim, but his vision was blurring again.

"Getting tired, Gabe?"

Sam blinked a few times, trying to see, and he could make out Gabriel being forced back by a barrage of blows, and Lucifer wasn't about to stop coming. Panic ignited in Sam's chest, though it got lost in the cacophony of pain and disorientation he was going through, and he once again pushed himself up. It doesn't matter if you don't want to work, legs; you have to. He hoped adrenaline would be enough to get him over to the fight, but he had been on an adrenaline rush for the past thirty minutes, so he wasn't confident.

Panting, Sam straightened up, holding his arms out to steady himself. He started to walk, taking uneasy steps, desperately wanting to go faster but knowing his body wouldn't tolerate it. He swallowed, staggering to the side a bit but regaining his balance quickly.

Lucifer kept moving toward Gabriel, throwing relentless punches with golden light spread over his fists. Gabriel would block a blow or return fire, but then Lucifer would just pick up where he left off, again and again and again. Sam knew if Gabriel had the chance, he could get the upper hand again, but Lucifer just wasn't stopping, and there was no way for Gabriel to regain his footing.

I have to…

Sam wasn't sure how it happened, but his arm was around Lucifer's neck. He had come up behind him and grabbed him in a chokehold, but he honestly couldn't feel his arms. He could feel the weight of Lucifer being pulled back against him, and he got the sensation that he was backing up, but—

Pain exploded over his back, but the speed at which it faded was incredible. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that was probably a concerning thing and not a good thing, but that part of his mind was not in control.

What…?

"Sam, let go!"

Blinking, Sam processed the heaviness on his chest and realized he still had a grip on Lucifer. He must have fallen while moving backwards and taken the Devil with him. I can't let go. Why does Gabriel want me to let go? He was opening his mouth to ask his question when he felt a rush of heat in his side.

Oh. That's not good.

He didn't really know why, because he wasn't entirely sure what the heat meant, but he knew it was bad. Blinking, he stared up at the sky, and he once again found himself wondering if his brain was actually showing him the correct color. His left hand—had that been the one holding the gun?—gravitated toward his left side, immediately landing in thick, warm liquid.

That's definitely not good.

And that was the last thing Sam thought before he went under.


"Sam!" Gabriel grabbed Lucifer by the shirt, trying to pull him off the young man he had just plunged his Grace into, but Lucifer grabbed him back and threw them both to the side.

Swearing in Enochian, Gabriel managed to keep from landing on his back with his brother on top of him, instead pushing back and managing to get at least Lucifer's shoulders pinned to the ground.

"Why are you even doing this?" Lucifer growled, clawing at Gabriel's throat with glowing fingers. "You've always been a coward. You never stood up for yourself even once in your life."

"Maybe that's exactly why I'm doing this." Gabriel grit his teeth, blood soaking into his shirt from the wounds in his neck that Lucifer kept reopening. He pulled his hand back, light flaring over his skin, and he tried to drive his hand into Lucifer's chest, but Lucifer was able to grab his wrist and keep the blow from landing as much damage. "Maybe I got tired of being the coward."

Lucifer sneered, trying to pry off the hand Gabriel was gripping his shoulder with. "You can't change what you are, Gabe. No matter what you do, at your core, you'll always be the same."

"Anyone can change." Gabriel twisted around the hand he had tried to attack with, grabbing Lucifer's wrist the way Lucifer had grabbed his, though he honestly wasn't sure what he planned to do with it. "That might be the most terrifying fact of the universe. You think you know a person. You think you know a fact or situation or reality. Then, suddenly, you don't anymore." He snorted. "But you and Michael never got the memo."

Just saying Michael's name prompted Gabriel to steal a quick glance at the similar fight going on twenty yards away. Castiel can't hold on forever. If we don't get them weak enough and close enough to each other that we can put them in the Cage, then—

Gabriel jerked backward, pain searing through the left side of his face, but he didn't let himself feel it for very long. He grabbed Lucifer by the throat, shades of red and blue and green coming off his hand, and then he reached into one of his pocket universes and grabbed something he had been hoping—praying, even, ironic as that was—he wouldn't have to use.

"They would fight all the time, about everything, always."

Gabriel turned the archangel blade over his hand, and as much as he wanted to be angered or motivated by the dismissive, almost disgusted look on Lucifer's face, he couldn't be. He could only feel his heart hammering inside his chest, his throat closing up, his stomach twisting.

"I loved them. No matter what they did to me, I always wanted to go back to them."

"Come on, Gabriel. Do you really think I'll believe, even for a second, that you'll actually use that?" Lucifer rolled his eyes, seeming completely unconcerned despite the fact his voice was strained by the grip Gabriel had on his throat; the grip he was, at that very moment, using both hands to try and tear away.

"But the fighting… it just never stopped."

Gabriel snorted, and even though he still felt like he couldn't breathe, there was enough bitterness, backed by years of futility, to make his lips move. "You know, it's really sad… when a thirteen-year-old human understands family dynamics better than two ancient, supposedly superior beings." He flashed a weak smile. "I love you, Lucifer. I really do."

And then he drove the blade into his brother's chest.

There wasn't any time for surprise to register on Lucifer's face. Light was pouring from every opening in his body, wings burning into the grass, and when the glazed, lifeless eyes stared back at Gabriel, there was something almost… mocking in them.

"Of course. Right up to the end, eh, brother?" Gabriel took a breath, but his brain shifted tracks in a fraction of a second, bringing him back to the moment he was in and causing him to jolt upright. "Sam!"

Gabriel jumped off Lucifer and closed the handful of feet between the Devil and his vessel. "Hey, Sam." He put a hand to the bloodied head, and even though his power was depleted by the fight, he was able to determine that Sam's brain was bleeding. "Great." Sighing, he shifted his hand, and he healed up what he could identify before trying to get an idea of what was going on in the rest of the motionless body in front of him. Broken bones, and… some internal bleeding, but I don't think it's too severe. No punctured lungs, and his heart is fine…

Satisfied that Sam would survive on his own until the fight was over, Gabriel got to his feet and took in the rest of the battlefield. He had used up a lot of his Grace, and that meant he couldn't easily identify who was who as far as the angels went, but he could see enough signatures to know the rebels were winning, if only by a small margin. It's strange Heaven wouldn't send more. Maybe there's something they're scared of… or maybe the other angels are seeing this fight and starting to doubt their orders. One could hope.

Off to the left, toward the road, Dean and Castiel were holding their own against Michael, but it was obvious they wouldn't last much longer. One down, one to go. He could barely stand the pressure in his chest at the thought. Then, Raphael. He might not have been pulled out for this fight, but… No. That was a problem for another day.

Gabriel flew across the field.


"Cas!" Dean stood frozen for a split second, his brain struggling to choose between running for the angel that had just been thrown or attacking the archangel that threw him. It's not like I'll be able to land a blow. He went to his right, toward the road, limping as fast as he could. He was still gripping the gun in his hand despite the fact the four bullets that had hit Michael did very little damage. "Cas!"

Castiel pushed himself up on his elbows but couldn't get his front off the ground, dirt and blood smeared over his face as unfocused shades of blue tried to find Dean. "I'm fine, Dean." He tried to get his right knee under him, but he crumpled back to the dirt.

"Cas," Dean tried to figure out how to crouch down, trying to get to the ground without bending his left leg too much. "Just rest a second, man." He panted and dropped the gun, putting his hands on Castiel's shoulders while he looked over his own. Relief flooded through him at the sight of Gabriel and Michael throwing punches. "Lucifer must be taken care of. That's half the battle, right?" He forced a laugh, ignoring the way his brain immediately went to why Sam was not with Gabriel if Lucifer had been beaten.

Groaning, Castiel tried to roll over, but after a couple unsuccessful attempts, he managed to shove his hand into the pocket of his coat. He withdrew the key a moment later, extending it toward Dean with fingers that were somewhat disjointed—broken, probably.

"Yeah, I can—I can do that." Dean grabbed the rings in his fist and dropped it to the ground, leaning against it as he grabbed at Castiel's shoulder again. "Hey, look at me."

"I'm… sorry, Dean. I couldn't…" Castiel tried to keep his eyes open, cheek pressed against the grass. "I…"

Dean shook his head. "Don't. Just… just rest for a moment, try to get up in a little." He looked toward the two archangels again, noticing the lack of ferocity in their attacks. Not that they weren't trying; it just seemed like they were both so low on power that there weren't many big moves left to make.

We have to get him in the Cage. Dean looked at the fist with the key, and then he looked back at the fight. If I can just… He pushed himself up, pain shooting through his injured leg again. Or rather, his more severely injured leg. He couldn't imagine there was any part of him that wasn't injured at this point. He's distracted, and he's getting weaker.

Dean jerked to a halt, folding his arms over his stomach as the stabbing, throbbing sensation he had been fighting against for the past twenty minutes came rushing back. Moving too quick. But he couldn't afford to move slowly, so he dropped his arms and continued. He saw the light clashing, gold against some mix of purple and blue, sparks of white and silver exploding in between every time they touched. I have to…

His leg gave, but he moved it to a new position and caught himself before he could fall, swallowing a scream through clenched teeth. He took a breath and started walking again, watching the blood fly from Michael's face as Gabriel tore at his eye socket. Staggering, Dean came to a stop a couple yards away, looking down at his fist. Here we go. He started the incantation, hoarse but able to get the words out.

In seconds, the ground opened up; an endless fall into a void that perfectly matched what they had seen when they tested the key months earlier.

"Gabriel!" Dean barely got the word out, coughing up a mouthful of blood.

Gabriel didn't respond, continuing to throw punches and flashes of light that, despite only being Grace, were able to cut into their target like knives. It was the kind of weird thing that would fascinate Sam. Sam would do a lot of studying into how Grace worked as a weapon when this was all over. He would. It would be so like him to do that.

Dean swayed, but when he saw Michael land two blows in a row, golden light flaring around Gabriel's chest, he was spurred into action. Broken, disoriented, painful action, but action nonetheless. He closed the distance in a minute, and even though he had no idea what he was doing, he grabbed reached out to grab Michael's arm.

Gabriel punched Michael in the face, fist blazing, and forced him backward.

Dean took a step to the side and made a move like he was swinging Michael by the arm, throwing him toward the pit.

Michael grabbed his shirt.

Dean's footing gave.

"Dean!"

Something wrapped around his neck and chest.

He tried to push Michael away, but that just made him fall further.

Something wrapped around his waist.

"Michael!"

And Dean flew backward.

He hit the ground, panting and wheezing, acutely aware of the lumps underneath him.

"Oh, thank God," Sam breathed, tightening the arm he had wrapped around Dean's torso from behind. He sounded like he was barely conscious—barely alive—and even though Dean knew it had to be uncomfortable to be partially pinned by Dean's body, Sam didn't try to move. He just kept panting, whispering thanks under his breath over and over, the words coming out regardless of whether he was breathing in or out.

Dean felt pressure around his waist, and it took a second, but he figured out they were arms. Someone was squeezing him, and even though he couldn't make his head move to look, he knew who it was.

"We're alive," Dean breathed. His brain stuttered, little warning lights reminding him of the other angels still fighting in the field. But would Heaven keep fighting if their leader was defeated?

"Yeah," Sam whispered. "We're alive." He huffed out a laugh, fingers curling through Dean's shirt like he was afraid his brother was still in danger of falling into the Cage. "I don't know how, but…"

Dean took a ragged breath. "Cas?"

Castiel didn't respond, but he tightened his hold on Dean's waist.

"Gabriel?" Dean continued, once again unable to move his head in any direction.

"Present," the archangel muttered, and it sounded like he was close, but it sounded like he was just as beaten down as the rest of them. "I'm gonna party so hard tomorrow."

Dean snorted.

"Like, I can't express in words how messed up I'm gonna be. I'm gonna invent ecstasy for angels, and I am gonna be rolling for days."

I just want some Jack Daniels and a cheeseburger. Dean shifted his hands, fingers fumbling their way up his front until he had one hand on Castiel's arm and one hand over Sam's. Or maybe a Scooby-Doo movie and popcorn. Liam would like that. He tried to keep his eyes open, and he could hear the conflict continuing nearby. He couldn't tell if it was getting any quieter. Maybe I should sit Cas down and teach him some human stuff. Or take him to a couple bars and teach him how to blend in.

He could do a lot of things, honestly. So could Sam. So could Castiel. So could Gabriel and Amane and Balthazar and all the angels they had managed to wake up and turn against Heaven. They had a future. Possibilities were endless.

But… I think I'll start with Jack Daniels and a cheeseburger.

And Sam squeezed his hand.


Author's Note: Oh, good Lord, I really hope I did an okay job with this. It was so hard to figure out how to have Sam and Dean fight and contribute when they're just humans and the archangels are archangels? But I didn't want them to just be the bait to get Michael and Lucifer there and then hide? Like, that's not them. I hope you all enjoyed it and found it to be something that might actually happen in canon.

Exciting news! I am looking for ARC readers for my book, Cataclysm, which is going to be published in September 2024! If you are interested, please let me know. As always, follow my tumblr or my website for updates!