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firmament2009-09-09 08:14 am
gorgeousnerd) wrote in firmament2009-09-09 08:14 am
Entry tags:
"The Beginning of the End (of the World)", Supernatural, PG-13, gen.
Title: The Beginning of the End (of the World)
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language. No known triggers.
Length: About 6450 words.
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, Chuck, Castiel, Anna, Rufus, Bobby, other canon characters.
Spoilers: Through 4x22.
Summary: The end of the world is a pain in the ass. But Dean wouldn't have it any other way.
Notes: I wrote this story for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
yo_gurt during ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
spn_summergen's 2009 run. I chose three prompts: The boys come face-to-face with an archangel, Sam, Dean, Chuck and Castiel (any combination) on the run from Zachariah, and The boys meet up with Anna after her "re-education". Click here to see the original post, and click here to see the post in chomalfoyfics.
The Beginning of the End (of the World)
"He's coming," Sam whispered.
Dean tore his eyes away from the light and squinted at Sam as best he could. He hadn't seen Sam this torn up since Jess died, or this worn since he'd detoxed in Bobby's panic room...and he wasn't sure he looked even this bad either time. But somehow, the light softened all his features, made him look nearly whole.
And that scared Dean more than anything.
"Come on, Sam," he said, tugging at Sam's jacket. "We have to go."
Sam didn't move.
"Now!"
He still didn't move.
Dean grabbed Sam's arms and pulled. Sam ran forward, and so did Dean. Sam stayed close on his heels, and Dean thought the light did as well, but he didn't turn to watch.
They made it outside the building, to the dirt where Ruby's Mustang sat abandoned and the Impala sat ready, before Dean glanced back. The convent was gone. In its place was a beacon of light, illuminated from the cracks in the ground to the clouds in the sky. It didn't take a genius to know it would attract everything this side of the Mississippi, if not further.
He turned to Sam, who stared up at the sky.
"Sam? Sammy!"
There was no response. Dean reached and tilted Sam's head down.
Sam's eyes were completely obscured with black.
–
"You can't come here!"
Dean frowned at his cell phone. "Why not?"
"Because it's the first place they'll look!"
He hadn't stopped for anything or anybody since they'd left the convent. They'd covered a couple hundred miles in the few hours since, and both the gas gauge and Dean's increasingly frequent yawns reflected that. Still, he was only in Pennsylvania, and try though he might, he couldn't cover ground any faster.
But he also couldn't risk anyone seeing the man in the backseat, staring at the ceiling with colorless eyes. Stopping at a motel was out of the question.
"Bobby, we need to figure this out. I can't run--"
"Yes, you can."
"What?"
Bobby sighed. "Staying put is suicide."
"You don't think they couldn't find me if they wanted to?"
"It don't mean you should make it easy for them!" There was a pause. "But you can't keep driving. We need news."
"So what you're saying is..."
"Castiel."
"Last I saw him, he was getting ready to take on an archangel. He won't know anything."
"You got any better ideas?"
Dean thought. "There's Anna."
"She's been kinda quiet, hasn't she?"
That she had. The last time Dean saw her, she'd popped up in the back seat and stared at Sam like he was a freak. At least now he knew why.
"Yeah, but she's probably my best bet," Dean said. "I'll call when I learn something."
"You wanna meet up?"
He considered it. "I met Cas at your place. They know it."
"I'll drive in your direction. Let me know where you end up."
"Right. And Bobby?"
"Yeah?"
"Be careful. If they're going to show, it could be anywhere."
He barely waited for Bobby's grunt before he hit the off button.
"Dean."
Dean dropped his cell phone. He didn't bother rummaging for it. Instead, he carefully took the steering wheel with his second hand and parked by the side of the road.
He looked toward what had formerly been the empty passenger's seat. Now, it held Anna, just as slight and red-headed as she had always been. She stared out the window.
"Look at that," Dean said. "Your ears burning?"
"Dean," she said again, not moving her head away from the front.
He looked over his shoulder back at Sam. His eyes were still dark as the night around them, and his gaze had something very strongly in common with Anna's. It was a little unsettling.
"What are you doing here?"
"I had to warn you," she said. "We know exactly where you are."
"We."
She nodded once, slowly. "We're watching at the moment, but we will take action once certain events culminate."
His throat tightened. "Is that it?"
"I've been put in my place," Anna said, and her sweet voice held a pained tone. Dean thought about Cas's brusque defiance when Dean had swore his allegiance to the angels. He hated those bastards more than ever. "I'm only a messenger."
"Zachariah said...'God's left the building'. What's that mean?"
Anna's eyes met his. Her eyes tightened and her lips pinched, but her eyes held no tears and her skin no sign of injury.
"It means we're on our own, Dean."
A flutter of wings, then silence.
–
That was as good a time as any to stop for gas. The angels weren't gunning for them right this second, and Dean could handle most demons. Sure, he didn't want to have to hide Sam, but the tank was running on fumes.
He drove until he saw the lights of the next town ahead, then pulled onto the gravel shoulder and parked. After rummaging past maps and old cell phones, he grabbed sunglasses out of the glove compartment and leaned back over the seat. Carefully, he unfolded the arms and slid the glasses onto Sam's nose.
Sam didn't blink, or react to Dean's touch at all.
Dean put a hand in front of Sam's mouth and caught the barest hint of breath. It'd have to do.
He slid back into his seat and glanced at the rear view mirror. If it wasn't for Sam's legs sticking up, it was like there wasn't anyone in the back. Dean took a deep breath, and another, and ignored the new stinging his eyes took on.
"Sammy," Dean whispered. "I'll get you back. I swear."
Without any further hesitation, he turned the car on and made for town.
After a few minutes on the main drag, he found a gas station on the other edge of whatever spot he'd driven into. Two cars sat at the pumps. Dean cursed in his head. But he had about twenty miles of gas in his tank and what might be a break, so this wasn't the time to press his luck.
Except he had to pull under the bright lights, turn the ignition, and get out. The first two parts were easy; he slid the car next to an empty pump and killed the engine. But he felt the other drivers' eyes on him, and he paused before getting out. He wasn't stupid enough to gape at Sam – that was downright reckless – but he stared out at the sky for a minute. It held the light blue of false dawn.
A car door slammed, and Dean's head jerked. He blinked heavily, undid his seat belt, and pulled himself out of the car. Every step was an effort, but he took them as naturally as he could.
"Rough night?"
Dean looked up. What appeared to be a soccer mom was at the ATM across the way, pulling out a receipt. She gave him a slightly weary smile.
"Something like that," he said. He pulled out his wallet and picked a debit card of his own to keep from rubbing at his eyes.
"If it wasn't for this place, I'd never get my coffee fix. They don't have Starbucks out here."
"No, they don't," Dean said, although he had no idea. The flask of holy water in his jacket felt heavier than usual. He walked to the nearest ATM, put the card in, and tried to ignore the flask's weight.
The woman gave another smile, this one more forced. It occurred to Dean that she was hot, and he knew he had to be out of it if he took some three minutes to notice. He shook his head once and punched in his PIN. He took his card and receipt from the machine, then grabbed a gas nozzle and walked toward the tank.
"There's good stuff inside," she said as he slid open the hole in the back of the Impala. "If you need to stay awake a while longer."
Dean opened his mouth to thank her. But halfway between his inhale and his statement, he changed his mind. "I get you're trying to be nice, but no thanks. Okay?"
Her face took on a mixture of annoyance and superiority. Definitely a mom. Luckily for Dean, she finished pumping her gas and left a moment later without another word, but with a loud screech of tires.
When Dean turned back to the Impala, he spotted the man crouched behind a garbage can not five feet from the car. "Hey!"
The man righted steadily. He threw out his hand just as Dean noticed how black his eyes were, and Dean was thrown against a pillar before he could do anything.
"I'll deal with you in a minute," the man said.
Dean snarled. "You leave him alone, or--"
"You'll hang there?" The demon laughed. "No bite, Dean."
"How about this?"
Dean's eyes swiveled toward the door of the convenience store. Castiel, still wearing Jimmy's body, stood directly under a florescent light. He stared at the demon like his eyes could drop him.
The demon snorted and looked back at Dean. "You brought a knife to a gunfight."
Across the street, a line of people walked out of the shadows, their eyes as black as their leader's. Dean's stomach dropped, but he knew Cas wouldn't show without something up his sleeve.
Or behind his sleeve.
A shaking Chuck stepped into view, his layered shirts covered in a dark substance of some kind, complete with a nervous expression on his face.
"Crap," Dean whispered.
The light around the gas station brightened. Not because of the lights in the overhang; it was a separate glow that warmed and burned Dean's bones. He gasped, then grit his teeth; he'd never been around such an intense presence. Chuck's hands covered his eyes, so it looked as if he hadn't either, but he didn't make a sound.
The demons, on the other hand, seemed agonized, if their screams were any kind of way to tell. The air filled with black smoke as the pressure left Dean's chest, and he sagged to the ground. By the time he looked up once more, the demons were gone, and he saw the white light group into a ball and streak off in pursuit. The gas station was nearly pitch black in its absence.
Dean rubbed his eyes as he pushed to his feet, staggering as he sought to balance against a ground he couldn't see. He checked inside the car, and sure enough, Sam was stretched in the same position, like nothing happened.
Before he could let himself relax, Chuck cried out. "Dean!"
Dean's head snapped up. Castiel was lying on the ground with his eyes open, and Chuck was crouched next to him, his hands hovering without touching anything.
"What's wrong?" Dean asked. He didn't move. Castiel had saved his ass yet again, and Sam's too, but Dean wasn't taking Sam out of his eye line.
"Nothing." Castiel's voice carried, but it was quiet and a little ragged.
Chuck shook his head. "It doesn't look like nothing."
"The combined effort of fighting the archangel and bringing us here was considerable," Castiel said. He rolled onto his knees, using his hands to prop him up. "My power is not limitless."
Dean bit his lip. "I guess you're riding with us. Cas in back, Chuck up front with me."
Chuck nodded and took Castiel's weight as he got to his feet. Dean went into the car and pushed Sam into a sitting position, which Sam accepted without too much trouble. His head stayed up without Dean having to direct it.
"Can you hear me?" Dean whispered.
Sam didn't answer, which was no surprise. Dean swallowed hard, pat Sam's shoulder, and put the driver's seat back in place.
Castiel seemed well enough to climb in the back, which was a little bit of a relief. Physical mobility would make a difference if he didn't have the juice to whammy anyone. Chuck put the seat down and sat in the front, clutching the bottom of his overshirt so hard Dean could hear the fabric creak.
"So where are we going?" Chuck asked. "Not Bobby's, right?"
"No, not Bobby's," Dean said. He was about to tell Chuck he didn't know when an idea struck. "Name Rufus ring any bells?"
"Should it?"
Dean exhaled. "I'm really glad it doesn't."
–
When they arrived in Canaan, the reaction was pretty much what Dean expected.
"No," Rufus's voice said through the speaker.
"Just long enough for a nap," Dean said. Now that he was out of the late-afternoon sun a bit, his eyelids drooped like nobody's business. "Three or four hours?"
"What part of 'no' don't you get?"
Dean sighed. "If you don't let me in, I'll sleep on your porch."
"The hell you will."
"You saw all this coming--"
"And Bobby didn't want to listen to me. It's your own damn fault."
"You're right," Dean said. "It is our own damn fault. But if I want to do anything about saving the world, then I need to get some sleep and think. Unless you'd rather stop it?"
Another pause, and Dean slumped against the side of the house. Maybe he'd gotten through to Rufus, but it was just as possible he'd tell them to go to hell. Either way, Dean couldn't keep moving.
The door and screen opened, and Rufus stood between them, holding both his arms. "If you're coming in, do it quick."
Dean waved a hand to the car, and Chuck and Castiel came out. They made pretty good time, mostly because Castiel was leaning on Chuck heavily, and Chuck was too freaked to slow down. Dean waited until they moved past a glaring Rufus to make his own way back to the car.
Sam didn't move when he put the seat down, but when he put both hands on Sam's shoulders, he leaned forward and stepped out of the car. He stood on his own while Dean closed and locked the car, and walked when Dean guided him.
Halfway to the house, Sam spoke.
"He's coming."
Dean stopped. He reached up and tipped the sunglasses down, inspecting the eyes behind them. They were as black as they had been for hours.
"Is he coming here?" Dean whispered, pushing the glasses back up. "Sam?"
"I ain't gonna wait all day!" Rufus shouted from the porch.
Dean shook his head and pushed Sam forward.
–
Everyone was settling in the house – Chuck in the bathroom, Castiel in a chair in the living room, Sam stretched on the couch – when Rufus gestured for Dean to go in his office.
"I thought you wanted me out," Dean said quietly. "I need to get to sleep for that to happen."
"Just a second."
Dean stepped in, and Rufus slid the doors closed.
"I'm in this now, there's no easy way out," Rufus said, scratching the back of his head. "Should have known when I called Bobby."
"We'll leave in a couple hours. Maybe no one'll know we came."
Rufus shook his head. "This is worse than you know. I talked to a couple psychics. They said something's gonna hit you hard and fast."
"There's a lot out there. They can't get more specific?"
"I've never known a psychic to know all the answers. It'd be too easy."
Now if that wasn't the damn truth, Dean didn't know what was. "You think it'll happen here?"
"No. You'd see it coming." Rufus clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You told Bobby to move, right?"
"You bet. I should check in before I try to sleep, actually."
"Good." Rufus walked toward the kitchen. "If Lucifer comes knocking, let me know."
Dean pulled out his phone; he'd made Chuck dig it out a few hours ago. He held down the number three button and waited.
Bobby picked up after two rings. "You get hit?"
"Yeah," Dean said. "But I have backup. We're at--"
"Don't tell me. I'm hunkered down for now, and I don't think I should know, just in case."
"Of what? Dude, both sides caught up with me, and I was driving."
Bobby cleared his throat. "I got a visit of my own. Told me not to get involved."
"Maybe you shouldn't--"
"It's a load of bull," Bobby said. "I'm coming as soon as I sleep. You should do the same."
"I've gone on less sleep than this."
Bobby grumbled. "Dean, you won't do any good half-dead. Call me when you get some sleep."
–
Maybe he ended up on a rug in the corner of the living room, but it felt like the most comfortable bed Dean had ever slept in. He balled his jacket under his head, kept his hand wrapped around the handle of his gun, and fell unconscious.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been that way when Anna clasped a hand over his mouth, but there was no light through the curtains when his eyes flew open. Dean's protests came out as nothing but muffled grunts.
"I didn't want to do this while you slept," she whispered. "I'm sorry."
She put a palm on his forehead, and he was surrounded by white light. He blinked, and when his lids raised, he was in a completely different room. There was a wooden desk, huge windows filled with the night sky and stars, and...
"Hello, Dean," Zachariah said.
Dean yanked away from Anna and jumped off the carpet. "What the hell."
Zachariah raised an eyebrow. "We need to talk."
"I've got nothing to say to you."
"That's fine," Zachariah said. He rounded the desk and looked meaningfully at a chair in front of it. Dean pointedly stared at it, then back at Zachariah. "I'll talk, and you can listen."
"Or I can leave and never see you jackasses again."
"You need an angel to leave," Zachariah said. He leaned on the desk and smiled. "And with that attitude, you're not helping your case."
A chill ran through Dean. "We aren't in--"
"Heavens no! This is just a room. A room far from Vermont, I might add."
Anna walked back into Dean's line of vision and halted behind Zachariah, head cowed. For the first time, Dean noticed she wasn't wearing her normal jeans and shirt outfit. Instead, she was in a black skirt and matching coat with a white shirt underneath. Business dress.
"Fine," Dean said. "What do you want me to hear so badly?"
"That it's go time!" Zachariah clapped his hands together. "Time to step to the plate and stop Lucifer. Excited yet?"
"Thrilled."
Zachariah laughed. "Of course you are. We get to fight the other side!"
"You know what I think about that."
"So you don't want to try?"
Dean crossed his arms. "Depends."
"On?"
"If he gets in my way."
Zachariah pressed his lips together. "I can guarantee he's going to get in your way."
"Oh, really," Dean said. "You know an awful lot about Lucifer."
"'Know thy enemy'. Basic Sun Tzu."
Dean grimaced. "'Fuck you'. Basic Dean Winchester."
"You've got quite a mouth."
"Oh, you have no idea."
"Fine." He met Dean's gaze and didn't flinch. "Anna."
"Yes."
"Fetch...oh, I don't know. Who sounds good to you? Michael? Gabriel?"
She didn't answer. But it didn't seem to Dean that he actually wanted a suggestion.
Zachariah snapped his fingers. Anna went to the door, which was set in the only wall that wasn't windows, and opened it.
Dean walked in.
Not Dean Winchester, not as he stood across the room from Zachariah in his leather jacket, jeans, and amulet. But a very familiar Dean. He wore a blue-and-white striped shirt with red suspenders, his hair was carefully styled, and he had a Bluetooth speaker in his ear.
"Yes, sir?" the new Dean said. The groveling tone...it was enough to make anyone sick.
"Raphael!" Zachariah said, beaming. "There's someone here who needs to talk to you."
Dean rolled his eyes so hard it felt like they'd flip all the way around. "Come on, guys. I've done the whole 'talking to myself' crap before."
"But I'm not you," Raphael said, stepping forward. "You rejected this."
"Whatever. Same thing."
"If you insist. I had to pick a form, and this one was handy." The polite tone he'd used upon entering was gone. In fact, his entire stance was different; it made Dean's own hostility appear positively cute. Every inch of the angelic version of Dean Smith radiated power, and danger. Even Zachariah didn't take his eyes away from him.
"So you're an archangel," Dean said. It was a little obvious, but it was a place to start.
"You sound surprised. We've met before."
Dean frowned. "You're Chuck's watchdog?"
"No," Raphael said, "but I jumped in last time. Sorry I didn't introduce myself, but I had a lot of demons to kill."
"The gas station." Raphael nodded, and Dean took a step back. "Look, this has been nice, but--"
"Let's cut the bull. You're going to kill Lucifer, and we're going to tell you how to do it."
It was time for Dean to pull out his trademark smirk. "I'll kill Lucifer if I have to. But I'm not taking anything from you."
"I was thinking you'd say that."
Raphael crossed the room and stopped inches of Dean's face. It was almost like his mirror was breathing on him...and its breath smelled like maple syrup. Great.
Dean straightened, but he relaxed a little. A little open hostility, that's what he could deal with. His eyes flashed to Zachariah, and he tensed. Had Zachariah been counting on it?
For the first time, Raphael smiled. Or, he put Dean's face into what would have been a smile if Dean had been doing it; here, he was baring his teeth as a threat. "Something wrong, Dean?"
"You're stalling," Dean said, but he tilted his head so it was directed at Zachariah. "Again. And you thought I was going to fall for it?"
Raphael eased back, and Zachariah stepped forward. It didn't seem like he was more powerful than Raphael – or even an archangel, despite his mind-whammy tricks – but Raphael took his cues from Zachariah. It was something to remember.
"We had a message to give you," Zachariah said, pausing several feet short of Dean. A comfortable distance. Dean didn't like it. "Shape up, or you're going to lose any say you might have."
Dean's heart picked up speed. "You didn't have to drag me here for that."
Zachariah grinned. "Anna."
Anna stepped forward. Her eyes looked down, but her forehead creased like she was feeling something strong. She stepped up to Dean, and he let her.
She put a palm on his forehead, and...
"Dean? Can you hear me?"
He snorted and opened his eyes. Chuck was hovering over him with a worried expression. Behind him, Rufus's curtains were closed, but golden light slipped through the cracks.
"What is it?" Dean asked, his voice thick.
Chuck pointed to the couch.
"Where's Sam?"
"You're not going to like this," Chuck replied.
–
"Here."
Dean looked around. He saw empty fields and an empty road. "Here?"
"Over the hill, there," Chuck said, pointing to Dean's left. "You can't see it until you get close."
"How long will it take me to walk there?"
"Five, maybe ten minutes."
Dean gave a curt nod and unbuckled from the seat. Beside him, Chuck did the same.
Castiel leaned forward far enough for Dean to see. He was moving normally, but Jimmy was the palest Dean had ever seen him. "I should go with you."
"Could you do anything?"
"Nothing more than a mortal, but--"
"No," Dean said, glancing over his shoulder. "If I bring an angel into this, it'll get ugly. And Chuck didn't see you."
Castiel looked at Chuck, who shrank in his seat. "I didn't hear."
"Things have happened that I didn't see," Chuck said in a near-squeak.
Dean rolled his eyes. "You guys are close enough to see if something goes bad. But this isn't a hunt, and I hope to hell it doesn't turn into one. If things go like Chuck said, I'll get out of this in one piece."
"What about Sam?" Castiel said.
Dean clenched his jaw, then opened his door and stepped out of the car. Chuck scrambled out his side and ran around the front. "I did tell you I've never driven a stick shift before, right?"
"Only about fifty times," Dean muttered. "Get in the car."
Chuck complied and grabbed the handle to the door. Just before he closed it, he looked up at Dean. "Good luck."
Dean nodded, and Chuck slammed the door. After he rolled his head around to loosen the tension in his neck, Dean squared his shoulders and turned.
He started across the field.
There were worse times to take a walk. It was firmly night, and since the moon was half-full, there was enough light to see the ground, but not so much that the stars were obscured. He'd never told Sam, but Dean loved the night sky.
It was May, and a cool breeze brought the smell of fresh grass to his nose, but he remembered the fresh air after a snowstorm like he was breathing it. The sky in his mind had no moon and never-ending stars, and instead of walking, he was resting on the hood of the Impala with Dad.
He didn't remember how old he was at the time. Seven, maybe eight. Sam was asleep in his car seat in the back, and the engine was running to keep the heater going. Dad was pointing gloved fingers at the constellations above their heads, and then he gestured to one star in particular.
"See that star, Dean?" he'd said, hugging him. "It's the North Star. It can always guide you."
The North Star was in a straight line with the hill Chuck had been talking about. If that wasn't a sign, Dean didn't know what was.
-
Some time later, when Dean crested the hill, he spotted a ramshackle barn at the foot. A glow came from a campfire in the opening where the barn doors should have been, and Dean walked toward it.
Two figures cast shadows on the walls of the barn. He recognized the far one first; he knew Sam anywhere. Sam stood almost like he normally did when he wasn't hunting, with his hands by his sides and his feet shifting back and forth. He wondered if he'd imagined it, but he watched. Sure enough, Sam did it again.
"Hello, Dean."
The voice wasn't Sam's. It was too dark and Dean was too far back to see the other person clearly, but whomever it was sat on a stool in front of the fire. The person raised a hand and waved it.
"I'm not gonna bite."
"Yeah, sure," Dean said under his breath, but he walked off the grass and onto the dirt in front of the barn. Clouds of dust kicked up as his boots scuffed the ground, which didn't help the smoky haze that already hung in the air.
As he approached, he could see the person was a man. For a brief second, he even looked like Dad: tattered coat, plaid shirt, jeans, dark hair with gray streaks. But the eyes that watched Dean were blue, and the face was more lined than Dad's had ever been.
"So you want Sam back," the man said.
Dean looked from the man to Sam. Now that he was closer, he could see Sam's eyes – still black, but staring at Dean as if he could see him. And maybe it was the reflection of the firelight, but Dean would have sworn Sam's eyes moved as much as his own.
"Yeah," Dean said. "I do."
"Dean!"
That time, it was Sam's voice. But as Dean took a step forward, the man held up a hand, and Sam's mouth closed. His eyes moved, but he didn't make any other visible attempt to speak.
"What are you doing to him, you son of a bitch?" Dean growled.
"I want to say a few things first," the man said. "Sam can have his say later."
"Fuck you."
The man chuckled. "He's everything you said he'd be, Sam."
Dean took a couple of big strides forward and came up next to the man. "Look. I don't give a rat's ass who you are or what you want. I'll take Sam with me, and you go your own way. No questions."
"That'd be nice, wouldn't it?" The man didn't say it sarcastically; he sounded almost sorry. "But no. There's rules to watch for."
"Screw the rules."
The man smiled, but he appeared as tired as Dean had felt before his angel-interrupted nap. "I said the same once. Just ended up forcing me into it even more."
Dean swallowed. "Then you're..."
"Lucifer?" The man tilted his head. "I think you knew that already. Unless your prophet's asleep on the job."
"Look," Dean said, "I've had a long couple of days. If we're gonna fight--"
"Yes, the fight." Lucifer looked at Sam, then shifted to face Dean instead of the fire. "I hear you're supposed to kill me."
Dean couldn't keep the frustration from his voice. "That's what they say."
"And you're tired of what 'they' say, aren't you?"
"Well..." Dean didn't want to agree with the leader of Hell, but it was the truth. He settled for shutting his mouth.
Lucifer nodded. "The word of your dad was gospel for most of your life. Then he died, and a bunch of people tried to tell you what to do. The angels, the demons...Sam."
Sam's boots scraped loudly on the ground. Dean's attentions shifted toward him for a moment, but Lucifer kept his gaze on Dean. "Believe it or not, Dean, I knew a guy a lot like you."
"You?"
Lucifer shrugged. "My father had a role for me, and I filled it. Look where it got me."
"You went against Heaven," Dean said, then winced.
"Aren't you the righteous man," Lucifer replied, a little steel in his voice for the first time. "You're not exactly in their good books, either."
He rose, and Dean stepped back, putting a hand in his jacket. Lucifer didn't step forward, but he raised a beckoning hand.
"Go ahead," he said. "Pull out your gun. Take aim."
Dean's stomach churned. "I'd just kill whoever you're wearing."
"What if I told you he's a hunter by the name of Robinson?"
"I'm not surprised."
"He does look the type, doesn't he?" Lucifer looked down and pat his hands on his chest. "Rawhead killed his children some twenty years ago. He's hunted all this time, but he never knew he could be an angelic vessel. Until now, that is."
Dean knew it didn't do any good, but he pulled the gun out of his jacket anyway. Instead of aiming it, he let it hang in his hand. Lucifer looked square at the gun.
"I wasn't kidding," he said. "I want you to shoot."
"I don't want to."
"The gun in your hand says different."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Why would you want me to shoot?"
"Because it would kill me," Lucifer said. "Being sealed didn't keep me whole."
"Yeah. Sure."
Lucifer laughed quietly. "You should have brought Castiel with you. He knows."
"He's fine where he is."
"I could bring him here."
Dean's grip on the gun tightened. "Don't touch him."
"I'll leave the prophet alone, if that's what's bothering you."
"This is between us," Dean said. "I don't want anyone else brought into it."
"Or maybe there's another angel that you'd rather see?"
Before Dean could say another word, Lucifer raised a hand. Light flashed, and when Dean's vision cleared, another person stood in the barn with them.
"Anna?" he said as he walked toward her. She gave Dean a puzzled expression, but when she took in the man by the fire, she gaped in his direction.
"Lucifer," she said. "You cannot summon--"
"Oh, I can," he broke in. "It's Anna now?"
Anna met Dean's gaze, then dropped her voice. "We have to leave. Now."
"Not without Sam," Dean whispered back. He doubted quiet talking would get past Lucifer, but he felt better doing it.
"Then put the gun away. You can't kill him."
Dean smirked. "I knew he was lying."
"If he said you could shoot him dead, he wasn't lying. But you can't do it."
"Why not?" Dean said. His head hurt. "I thought I was supposed to."
Anna shook her head frantically. "That's what Zachariah wants. It'll give Heaven the win."
"And?"
"And it would bring end times!" She leaned closer to Dean. "This isn't the way to stop him."
Dean turned back to Lucifer without letting his grin drop. He put his gun back in his pocket and held up empty hands. "I'm sorry. I should have believed you."
Lucifer stood with perfect posture. It looked wrong on the body he wore. "Why'd you put the gun away?"
"Because I'm not going to shoot you."
Anna stepped up next to him. Her face was paler with the light of the fire reflected on it. "Give us Sam."
"Are you sure?"
Dean frowned. "Why wouldn't we be sure?"
"Because Sam will do whatever I tell him," Lucifer said, raising his hand again.
"What is he talking about?" Dean whispered to Anna.
"It means he's controlling Sam," she said. "Are you sure you won't leave?"
"I told you, not without--"
"Yeah," she said, then raised her voice. "Let him go."
Lucifer dropped his hand, and Sam leapt forward.
Dean barely had a chance to blink before Sam's fist swung for his head. It made contact, but Dean swung his head with the impact and threw up his arms. Just as he grabbed for Sam's arm, Sam shifted out of his reach and kicked. Dean fell, and Sam put a hand on his throat, cutting off Dean's air.
Sam raised his fist again, and Dean flinched.
"Stop!" Anna cried.
The fist came down on Dean's cheek. He grunted, and the fist raised another time.
"Only if he agrees to shoot me."
"No," Dean said in a choked voice.
Sam's fist fell once more, hitting Dean's nose this time. Tears streamed from his eyes as agony spread upward.
"What if I make you a deal?"
The pressure on Dean's throat eased slightly, but blood trickled into his mouth from his nose. He spit it out as best he could, but Sam kept him from shifting much, so it wasn't perfect.
"A deal?" Lucifer said. "I haven't done one of those in a while."
"Let Sam and Dean go, and I'll..."
"You'll...?"
"I'll go with you," Anna said. "I'll be your second."
The edges of Dean's vision went black. He blinked hard and focused on the ceiling above. All he could see was Sam's gaze, which was vacant again, and the shadows of Anna and Lucifer, both of which had feathery wings attached to their bodies.
"What makes you think I want an angel? I have Sam Winchester, and as many demons as I want."
"Sam Winchester's mortal. And there's few powerful demons left...you don't have Lilith, or even Azazel."
"What about your allegiance to God?"
The shadows flickered as the wind picked up. "God is missing, and I can't trust the current powers."
"You'll run off to join the Winchesters the first chance you get."
"And be chased by both you and the angels?"
Lucifer laughed. "I don't trust you."
"I have to follow the deal."
Dean's vision faded for a second time, and this time, he knew he wasn't going to be able to fight it. He spit the blood out of his mouth again – if nothing else, he could not to choke to death while he was out – and let his lids drop.
The last thing he remembered was the throaty laugh of the body Lucifer inhabited ringing in his ears.
–
His arm trembled.
Dean groaned. "Stop."
It trembled again. No, not trembled; someone was shaking it.
"Stop," he repeated.
"Can you hear me?"
"My head wishes I couldn't," he muttered.
He managed to pry his eyes open. Sam was sitting in front of him.
Dean felt crummy enough that all he could do was smile. "Sammy."
Sam exhaled loudly. "I thought I'd killed you."
"It wasn't you," Dean said.
He glanced around. The world spun when he did, but he managed to see the fire was out and the daylight outside the barn before he squeezed his eyes shut.
"Did they leave?" he asked. His voice sounded slightly slurred, but he was probably imagining it.
"They?"
"Lucifer. And Anna."
Sam frowned. "I remember Lucifer."
"Anna gave us a chance," Dean said.
"Where's the car?"
"Chuck, and Castiel..."
"What?"
Dean waved a hand. "They have my phone. They should be parked by the road."
Sam patted his pockets until he extracted his cell phone from his jeans. Dean's eyelids fluttered, but he willed them to stay open.
"You need to get to a hospital," Sam said. His phone was to his ear.
Dean wanted to argue, but he didn't have the strength. Instead he said, "Are you okay?""
"I'm fine." Sam looked away. "Dean, about--"
"Not now. Let me stop bleeding first."
Sam smiled faintly. "Okay."
Apparently, either Chuck or Castiel picked up the phone, because Sam turned his head away and spoke to whomever picked up. Dean watched for a second, then closed his eyes and tried to remember what Bobby had said the last time they'd talked. Something about half-dead. Well, if this wasn't half-dead, he didn't know what was.
He couldn't care about what was to come. It'd probably be more than he could handle, as usual, but for now, all he could do was pass out and wake up in a bed somewhere, let people fuss, and get back to work.
It never ended. And it was best that way.
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language. No known triggers.
Length: About 6450 words.
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, Chuck, Castiel, Anna, Rufus, Bobby, other canon characters.
Spoilers: Through 4x22.
Summary: The end of the world is a pain in the ass. But Dean wouldn't have it any other way.
Notes: I wrote this story for
yo_gurt during spn_summergen's 2009 run. I chose three prompts: The boys come face-to-face with an archangel, Sam, Dean, Chuck and Castiel (any combination) on the run from Zachariah, and The boys meet up with Anna after her "re-education". Click here to see the original post, and click here to see the post in chomalfoyfics."He's coming," Sam whispered.
Dean tore his eyes away from the light and squinted at Sam as best he could. He hadn't seen Sam this torn up since Jess died, or this worn since he'd detoxed in Bobby's panic room...and he wasn't sure he looked even this bad either time. But somehow, the light softened all his features, made him look nearly whole.
And that scared Dean more than anything.
"Come on, Sam," he said, tugging at Sam's jacket. "We have to go."
Sam didn't move.
"Now!"
He still didn't move.
Dean grabbed Sam's arms and pulled. Sam ran forward, and so did Dean. Sam stayed close on his heels, and Dean thought the light did as well, but he didn't turn to watch.
They made it outside the building, to the dirt where Ruby's Mustang sat abandoned and the Impala sat ready, before Dean glanced back. The convent was gone. In its place was a beacon of light, illuminated from the cracks in the ground to the clouds in the sky. It didn't take a genius to know it would attract everything this side of the Mississippi, if not further.
He turned to Sam, who stared up at the sky.
"Sam? Sammy!"
There was no response. Dean reached and tilted Sam's head down.
Sam's eyes were completely obscured with black.
"You can't come here!"
Dean frowned at his cell phone. "Why not?"
"Because it's the first place they'll look!"
He hadn't stopped for anything or anybody since they'd left the convent. They'd covered a couple hundred miles in the few hours since, and both the gas gauge and Dean's increasingly frequent yawns reflected that. Still, he was only in Pennsylvania, and try though he might, he couldn't cover ground any faster.
But he also couldn't risk anyone seeing the man in the backseat, staring at the ceiling with colorless eyes. Stopping at a motel was out of the question.
"Bobby, we need to figure this out. I can't run--"
"Yes, you can."
"What?"
Bobby sighed. "Staying put is suicide."
"You don't think they couldn't find me if they wanted to?"
"It don't mean you should make it easy for them!" There was a pause. "But you can't keep driving. We need news."
"So what you're saying is..."
"Castiel."
"Last I saw him, he was getting ready to take on an archangel. He won't know anything."
"You got any better ideas?"
Dean thought. "There's Anna."
"She's been kinda quiet, hasn't she?"
That she had. The last time Dean saw her, she'd popped up in the back seat and stared at Sam like he was a freak. At least now he knew why.
"Yeah, but she's probably my best bet," Dean said. "I'll call when I learn something."
"You wanna meet up?"
He considered it. "I met Cas at your place. They know it."
"I'll drive in your direction. Let me know where you end up."
"Right. And Bobby?"
"Yeah?"
"Be careful. If they're going to show, it could be anywhere."
He barely waited for Bobby's grunt before he hit the off button.
"Dean."
Dean dropped his cell phone. He didn't bother rummaging for it. Instead, he carefully took the steering wheel with his second hand and parked by the side of the road.
He looked toward what had formerly been the empty passenger's seat. Now, it held Anna, just as slight and red-headed as she had always been. She stared out the window.
"Look at that," Dean said. "Your ears burning?"
"Dean," she said again, not moving her head away from the front.
He looked over his shoulder back at Sam. His eyes were still dark as the night around them, and his gaze had something very strongly in common with Anna's. It was a little unsettling.
"What are you doing here?"
"I had to warn you," she said. "We know exactly where you are."
"We."
She nodded once, slowly. "We're watching at the moment, but we will take action once certain events culminate."
His throat tightened. "Is that it?"
"I've been put in my place," Anna said, and her sweet voice held a pained tone. Dean thought about Cas's brusque defiance when Dean had swore his allegiance to the angels. He hated those bastards more than ever. "I'm only a messenger."
"Zachariah said...'God's left the building'. What's that mean?"
Anna's eyes met his. Her eyes tightened and her lips pinched, but her eyes held no tears and her skin no sign of injury.
"It means we're on our own, Dean."
A flutter of wings, then silence.
That was as good a time as any to stop for gas. The angels weren't gunning for them right this second, and Dean could handle most demons. Sure, he didn't want to have to hide Sam, but the tank was running on fumes.
He drove until he saw the lights of the next town ahead, then pulled onto the gravel shoulder and parked. After rummaging past maps and old cell phones, he grabbed sunglasses out of the glove compartment and leaned back over the seat. Carefully, he unfolded the arms and slid the glasses onto Sam's nose.
Sam didn't blink, or react to Dean's touch at all.
Dean put a hand in front of Sam's mouth and caught the barest hint of breath. It'd have to do.
He slid back into his seat and glanced at the rear view mirror. If it wasn't for Sam's legs sticking up, it was like there wasn't anyone in the back. Dean took a deep breath, and another, and ignored the new stinging his eyes took on.
"Sammy," Dean whispered. "I'll get you back. I swear."
Without any further hesitation, he turned the car on and made for town.
After a few minutes on the main drag, he found a gas station on the other edge of whatever spot he'd driven into. Two cars sat at the pumps. Dean cursed in his head. But he had about twenty miles of gas in his tank and what might be a break, so this wasn't the time to press his luck.
Except he had to pull under the bright lights, turn the ignition, and get out. The first two parts were easy; he slid the car next to an empty pump and killed the engine. But he felt the other drivers' eyes on him, and he paused before getting out. He wasn't stupid enough to gape at Sam – that was downright reckless – but he stared out at the sky for a minute. It held the light blue of false dawn.
A car door slammed, and Dean's head jerked. He blinked heavily, undid his seat belt, and pulled himself out of the car. Every step was an effort, but he took them as naturally as he could.
"Rough night?"
Dean looked up. What appeared to be a soccer mom was at the ATM across the way, pulling out a receipt. She gave him a slightly weary smile.
"Something like that," he said. He pulled out his wallet and picked a debit card of his own to keep from rubbing at his eyes.
"If it wasn't for this place, I'd never get my coffee fix. They don't have Starbucks out here."
"No, they don't," Dean said, although he had no idea. The flask of holy water in his jacket felt heavier than usual. He walked to the nearest ATM, put the card in, and tried to ignore the flask's weight.
The woman gave another smile, this one more forced. It occurred to Dean that she was hot, and he knew he had to be out of it if he took some three minutes to notice. He shook his head once and punched in his PIN. He took his card and receipt from the machine, then grabbed a gas nozzle and walked toward the tank.
"There's good stuff inside," she said as he slid open the hole in the back of the Impala. "If you need to stay awake a while longer."
Dean opened his mouth to thank her. But halfway between his inhale and his statement, he changed his mind. "I get you're trying to be nice, but no thanks. Okay?"
Her face took on a mixture of annoyance and superiority. Definitely a mom. Luckily for Dean, she finished pumping her gas and left a moment later without another word, but with a loud screech of tires.
When Dean turned back to the Impala, he spotted the man crouched behind a garbage can not five feet from the car. "Hey!"
The man righted steadily. He threw out his hand just as Dean noticed how black his eyes were, and Dean was thrown against a pillar before he could do anything.
"I'll deal with you in a minute," the man said.
Dean snarled. "You leave him alone, or--"
"You'll hang there?" The demon laughed. "No bite, Dean."
"How about this?"
Dean's eyes swiveled toward the door of the convenience store. Castiel, still wearing Jimmy's body, stood directly under a florescent light. He stared at the demon like his eyes could drop him.
The demon snorted and looked back at Dean. "You brought a knife to a gunfight."
Across the street, a line of people walked out of the shadows, their eyes as black as their leader's. Dean's stomach dropped, but he knew Cas wouldn't show without something up his sleeve.
Or behind his sleeve.
A shaking Chuck stepped into view, his layered shirts covered in a dark substance of some kind, complete with a nervous expression on his face.
"Crap," Dean whispered.
The light around the gas station brightened. Not because of the lights in the overhang; it was a separate glow that warmed and burned Dean's bones. He gasped, then grit his teeth; he'd never been around such an intense presence. Chuck's hands covered his eyes, so it looked as if he hadn't either, but he didn't make a sound.
The demons, on the other hand, seemed agonized, if their screams were any kind of way to tell. The air filled with black smoke as the pressure left Dean's chest, and he sagged to the ground. By the time he looked up once more, the demons were gone, and he saw the white light group into a ball and streak off in pursuit. The gas station was nearly pitch black in its absence.
Dean rubbed his eyes as he pushed to his feet, staggering as he sought to balance against a ground he couldn't see. He checked inside the car, and sure enough, Sam was stretched in the same position, like nothing happened.
Before he could let himself relax, Chuck cried out. "Dean!"
Dean's head snapped up. Castiel was lying on the ground with his eyes open, and Chuck was crouched next to him, his hands hovering without touching anything.
"What's wrong?" Dean asked. He didn't move. Castiel had saved his ass yet again, and Sam's too, but Dean wasn't taking Sam out of his eye line.
"Nothing." Castiel's voice carried, but it was quiet and a little ragged.
Chuck shook his head. "It doesn't look like nothing."
"The combined effort of fighting the archangel and bringing us here was considerable," Castiel said. He rolled onto his knees, using his hands to prop him up. "My power is not limitless."
Dean bit his lip. "I guess you're riding with us. Cas in back, Chuck up front with me."
Chuck nodded and took Castiel's weight as he got to his feet. Dean went into the car and pushed Sam into a sitting position, which Sam accepted without too much trouble. His head stayed up without Dean having to direct it.
"Can you hear me?" Dean whispered.
Sam didn't answer, which was no surprise. Dean swallowed hard, pat Sam's shoulder, and put the driver's seat back in place.
Castiel seemed well enough to climb in the back, which was a little bit of a relief. Physical mobility would make a difference if he didn't have the juice to whammy anyone. Chuck put the seat down and sat in the front, clutching the bottom of his overshirt so hard Dean could hear the fabric creak.
"So where are we going?" Chuck asked. "Not Bobby's, right?"
"No, not Bobby's," Dean said. He was about to tell Chuck he didn't know when an idea struck. "Name Rufus ring any bells?"
"Should it?"
Dean exhaled. "I'm really glad it doesn't."
When they arrived in Canaan, the reaction was pretty much what Dean expected.
"No," Rufus's voice said through the speaker.
"Just long enough for a nap," Dean said. Now that he was out of the late-afternoon sun a bit, his eyelids drooped like nobody's business. "Three or four hours?"
"What part of 'no' don't you get?"
Dean sighed. "If you don't let me in, I'll sleep on your porch."
"The hell you will."
"You saw all this coming--"
"And Bobby didn't want to listen to me. It's your own damn fault."
"You're right," Dean said. "It is our own damn fault. But if I want to do anything about saving the world, then I need to get some sleep and think. Unless you'd rather stop it?"
Another pause, and Dean slumped against the side of the house. Maybe he'd gotten through to Rufus, but it was just as possible he'd tell them to go to hell. Either way, Dean couldn't keep moving.
The door and screen opened, and Rufus stood between them, holding both his arms. "If you're coming in, do it quick."
Dean waved a hand to the car, and Chuck and Castiel came out. They made pretty good time, mostly because Castiel was leaning on Chuck heavily, and Chuck was too freaked to slow down. Dean waited until they moved past a glaring Rufus to make his own way back to the car.
Sam didn't move when he put the seat down, but when he put both hands on Sam's shoulders, he leaned forward and stepped out of the car. He stood on his own while Dean closed and locked the car, and walked when Dean guided him.
Halfway to the house, Sam spoke.
"He's coming."
Dean stopped. He reached up and tipped the sunglasses down, inspecting the eyes behind them. They were as black as they had been for hours.
"Is he coming here?" Dean whispered, pushing the glasses back up. "Sam?"
"I ain't gonna wait all day!" Rufus shouted from the porch.
Dean shook his head and pushed Sam forward.
Everyone was settling in the house – Chuck in the bathroom, Castiel in a chair in the living room, Sam stretched on the couch – when Rufus gestured for Dean to go in his office.
"I thought you wanted me out," Dean said quietly. "I need to get to sleep for that to happen."
"Just a second."
Dean stepped in, and Rufus slid the doors closed.
"I'm in this now, there's no easy way out," Rufus said, scratching the back of his head. "Should have known when I called Bobby."
"We'll leave in a couple hours. Maybe no one'll know we came."
Rufus shook his head. "This is worse than you know. I talked to a couple psychics. They said something's gonna hit you hard and fast."
"There's a lot out there. They can't get more specific?"
"I've never known a psychic to know all the answers. It'd be too easy."
Now if that wasn't the damn truth, Dean didn't know what was. "You think it'll happen here?"
"No. You'd see it coming." Rufus clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You told Bobby to move, right?"
"You bet. I should check in before I try to sleep, actually."
"Good." Rufus walked toward the kitchen. "If Lucifer comes knocking, let me know."
Dean pulled out his phone; he'd made Chuck dig it out a few hours ago. He held down the number three button and waited.
Bobby picked up after two rings. "You get hit?"
"Yeah," Dean said. "But I have backup. We're at--"
"Don't tell me. I'm hunkered down for now, and I don't think I should know, just in case."
"Of what? Dude, both sides caught up with me, and I was driving."
Bobby cleared his throat. "I got a visit of my own. Told me not to get involved."
"Maybe you shouldn't--"
"It's a load of bull," Bobby said. "I'm coming as soon as I sleep. You should do the same."
"I've gone on less sleep than this."
Bobby grumbled. "Dean, you won't do any good half-dead. Call me when you get some sleep."
Maybe he ended up on a rug in the corner of the living room, but it felt like the most comfortable bed Dean had ever slept in. He balled his jacket under his head, kept his hand wrapped around the handle of his gun, and fell unconscious.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been that way when Anna clasped a hand over his mouth, but there was no light through the curtains when his eyes flew open. Dean's protests came out as nothing but muffled grunts.
"I didn't want to do this while you slept," she whispered. "I'm sorry."
She put a palm on his forehead, and he was surrounded by white light. He blinked, and when his lids raised, he was in a completely different room. There was a wooden desk, huge windows filled with the night sky and stars, and...
"Hello, Dean," Zachariah said.
Dean yanked away from Anna and jumped off the carpet. "What the hell."
Zachariah raised an eyebrow. "We need to talk."
"I've got nothing to say to you."
"That's fine," Zachariah said. He rounded the desk and looked meaningfully at a chair in front of it. Dean pointedly stared at it, then back at Zachariah. "I'll talk, and you can listen."
"Or I can leave and never see you jackasses again."
"You need an angel to leave," Zachariah said. He leaned on the desk and smiled. "And with that attitude, you're not helping your case."
A chill ran through Dean. "We aren't in--"
"Heavens no! This is just a room. A room far from Vermont, I might add."
Anna walked back into Dean's line of vision and halted behind Zachariah, head cowed. For the first time, Dean noticed she wasn't wearing her normal jeans and shirt outfit. Instead, she was in a black skirt and matching coat with a white shirt underneath. Business dress.
"Fine," Dean said. "What do you want me to hear so badly?"
"That it's go time!" Zachariah clapped his hands together. "Time to step to the plate and stop Lucifer. Excited yet?"
"Thrilled."
Zachariah laughed. "Of course you are. We get to fight the other side!"
"You know what I think about that."
"So you don't want to try?"
Dean crossed his arms. "Depends."
"On?"
"If he gets in my way."
Zachariah pressed his lips together. "I can guarantee he's going to get in your way."
"Oh, really," Dean said. "You know an awful lot about Lucifer."
"'Know thy enemy'. Basic Sun Tzu."
Dean grimaced. "'Fuck you'. Basic Dean Winchester."
"You've got quite a mouth."
"Oh, you have no idea."
"Fine." He met Dean's gaze and didn't flinch. "Anna."
"Yes."
"Fetch...oh, I don't know. Who sounds good to you? Michael? Gabriel?"
She didn't answer. But it didn't seem to Dean that he actually wanted a suggestion.
Zachariah snapped his fingers. Anna went to the door, which was set in the only wall that wasn't windows, and opened it.
Dean walked in.
Not Dean Winchester, not as he stood across the room from Zachariah in his leather jacket, jeans, and amulet. But a very familiar Dean. He wore a blue-and-white striped shirt with red suspenders, his hair was carefully styled, and he had a Bluetooth speaker in his ear.
"Yes, sir?" the new Dean said. The groveling tone...it was enough to make anyone sick.
"Raphael!" Zachariah said, beaming. "There's someone here who needs to talk to you."
Dean rolled his eyes so hard it felt like they'd flip all the way around. "Come on, guys. I've done the whole 'talking to myself' crap before."
"But I'm not you," Raphael said, stepping forward. "You rejected this."
"Whatever. Same thing."
"If you insist. I had to pick a form, and this one was handy." The polite tone he'd used upon entering was gone. In fact, his entire stance was different; it made Dean's own hostility appear positively cute. Every inch of the angelic version of Dean Smith radiated power, and danger. Even Zachariah didn't take his eyes away from him.
"So you're an archangel," Dean said. It was a little obvious, but it was a place to start.
"You sound surprised. We've met before."
Dean frowned. "You're Chuck's watchdog?"
"No," Raphael said, "but I jumped in last time. Sorry I didn't introduce myself, but I had a lot of demons to kill."
"The gas station." Raphael nodded, and Dean took a step back. "Look, this has been nice, but--"
"Let's cut the bull. You're going to kill Lucifer, and we're going to tell you how to do it."
It was time for Dean to pull out his trademark smirk. "I'll kill Lucifer if I have to. But I'm not taking anything from you."
"I was thinking you'd say that."
Raphael crossed the room and stopped inches of Dean's face. It was almost like his mirror was breathing on him...and its breath smelled like maple syrup. Great.
Dean straightened, but he relaxed a little. A little open hostility, that's what he could deal with. His eyes flashed to Zachariah, and he tensed. Had Zachariah been counting on it?
For the first time, Raphael smiled. Or, he put Dean's face into what would have been a smile if Dean had been doing it; here, he was baring his teeth as a threat. "Something wrong, Dean?"
"You're stalling," Dean said, but he tilted his head so it was directed at Zachariah. "Again. And you thought I was going to fall for it?"
Raphael eased back, and Zachariah stepped forward. It didn't seem like he was more powerful than Raphael – or even an archangel, despite his mind-whammy tricks – but Raphael took his cues from Zachariah. It was something to remember.
"We had a message to give you," Zachariah said, pausing several feet short of Dean. A comfortable distance. Dean didn't like it. "Shape up, or you're going to lose any say you might have."
Dean's heart picked up speed. "You didn't have to drag me here for that."
Zachariah grinned. "Anna."
Anna stepped forward. Her eyes looked down, but her forehead creased like she was feeling something strong. She stepped up to Dean, and he let her.
She put a palm on his forehead, and...
"Dean? Can you hear me?"
He snorted and opened his eyes. Chuck was hovering over him with a worried expression. Behind him, Rufus's curtains were closed, but golden light slipped through the cracks.
"What is it?" Dean asked, his voice thick.
Chuck pointed to the couch.
"Where's Sam?"
"You're not going to like this," Chuck replied.
"Here."
Dean looked around. He saw empty fields and an empty road. "Here?"
"Over the hill, there," Chuck said, pointing to Dean's left. "You can't see it until you get close."
"How long will it take me to walk there?"
"Five, maybe ten minutes."
Dean gave a curt nod and unbuckled from the seat. Beside him, Chuck did the same.
Castiel leaned forward far enough for Dean to see. He was moving normally, but Jimmy was the palest Dean had ever seen him. "I should go with you."
"Could you do anything?"
"Nothing more than a mortal, but--"
"No," Dean said, glancing over his shoulder. "If I bring an angel into this, it'll get ugly. And Chuck didn't see you."
Castiel looked at Chuck, who shrank in his seat. "I didn't hear."
"Things have happened that I didn't see," Chuck said in a near-squeak.
Dean rolled his eyes. "You guys are close enough to see if something goes bad. But this isn't a hunt, and I hope to hell it doesn't turn into one. If things go like Chuck said, I'll get out of this in one piece."
"What about Sam?" Castiel said.
Dean clenched his jaw, then opened his door and stepped out of the car. Chuck scrambled out his side and ran around the front. "I did tell you I've never driven a stick shift before, right?"
"Only about fifty times," Dean muttered. "Get in the car."
Chuck complied and grabbed the handle to the door. Just before he closed it, he looked up at Dean. "Good luck."
Dean nodded, and Chuck slammed the door. After he rolled his head around to loosen the tension in his neck, Dean squared his shoulders and turned.
He started across the field.
There were worse times to take a walk. It was firmly night, and since the moon was half-full, there was enough light to see the ground, but not so much that the stars were obscured. He'd never told Sam, but Dean loved the night sky.
It was May, and a cool breeze brought the smell of fresh grass to his nose, but he remembered the fresh air after a snowstorm like he was breathing it. The sky in his mind had no moon and never-ending stars, and instead of walking, he was resting on the hood of the Impala with Dad.
He didn't remember how old he was at the time. Seven, maybe eight. Sam was asleep in his car seat in the back, and the engine was running to keep the heater going. Dad was pointing gloved fingers at the constellations above their heads, and then he gestured to one star in particular.
"See that star, Dean?" he'd said, hugging him. "It's the North Star. It can always guide you."
The North Star was in a straight line with the hill Chuck had been talking about. If that wasn't a sign, Dean didn't know what was.
Some time later, when Dean crested the hill, he spotted a ramshackle barn at the foot. A glow came from a campfire in the opening where the barn doors should have been, and Dean walked toward it.
Two figures cast shadows on the walls of the barn. He recognized the far one first; he knew Sam anywhere. Sam stood almost like he normally did when he wasn't hunting, with his hands by his sides and his feet shifting back and forth. He wondered if he'd imagined it, but he watched. Sure enough, Sam did it again.
"Hello, Dean."
The voice wasn't Sam's. It was too dark and Dean was too far back to see the other person clearly, but whomever it was sat on a stool in front of the fire. The person raised a hand and waved it.
"I'm not gonna bite."
"Yeah, sure," Dean said under his breath, but he walked off the grass and onto the dirt in front of the barn. Clouds of dust kicked up as his boots scuffed the ground, which didn't help the smoky haze that already hung in the air.
As he approached, he could see the person was a man. For a brief second, he even looked like Dad: tattered coat, plaid shirt, jeans, dark hair with gray streaks. But the eyes that watched Dean were blue, and the face was more lined than Dad's had ever been.
"So you want Sam back," the man said.
Dean looked from the man to Sam. Now that he was closer, he could see Sam's eyes – still black, but staring at Dean as if he could see him. And maybe it was the reflection of the firelight, but Dean would have sworn Sam's eyes moved as much as his own.
"Yeah," Dean said. "I do."
"Dean!"
That time, it was Sam's voice. But as Dean took a step forward, the man held up a hand, and Sam's mouth closed. His eyes moved, but he didn't make any other visible attempt to speak.
"What are you doing to him, you son of a bitch?" Dean growled.
"I want to say a few things first," the man said. "Sam can have his say later."
"Fuck you."
The man chuckled. "He's everything you said he'd be, Sam."
Dean took a couple of big strides forward and came up next to the man. "Look. I don't give a rat's ass who you are or what you want. I'll take Sam with me, and you go your own way. No questions."
"That'd be nice, wouldn't it?" The man didn't say it sarcastically; he sounded almost sorry. "But no. There's rules to watch for."
"Screw the rules."
The man smiled, but he appeared as tired as Dean had felt before his angel-interrupted nap. "I said the same once. Just ended up forcing me into it even more."
Dean swallowed. "Then you're..."
"Lucifer?" The man tilted his head. "I think you knew that already. Unless your prophet's asleep on the job."
"Look," Dean said, "I've had a long couple of days. If we're gonna fight--"
"Yes, the fight." Lucifer looked at Sam, then shifted to face Dean instead of the fire. "I hear you're supposed to kill me."
Dean couldn't keep the frustration from his voice. "That's what they say."
"And you're tired of what 'they' say, aren't you?"
"Well..." Dean didn't want to agree with the leader of Hell, but it was the truth. He settled for shutting his mouth.
Lucifer nodded. "The word of your dad was gospel for most of your life. Then he died, and a bunch of people tried to tell you what to do. The angels, the demons...Sam."
Sam's boots scraped loudly on the ground. Dean's attentions shifted toward him for a moment, but Lucifer kept his gaze on Dean. "Believe it or not, Dean, I knew a guy a lot like you."
"You?"
Lucifer shrugged. "My father had a role for me, and I filled it. Look where it got me."
"You went against Heaven," Dean said, then winced.
"Aren't you the righteous man," Lucifer replied, a little steel in his voice for the first time. "You're not exactly in their good books, either."
He rose, and Dean stepped back, putting a hand in his jacket. Lucifer didn't step forward, but he raised a beckoning hand.
"Go ahead," he said. "Pull out your gun. Take aim."
Dean's stomach churned. "I'd just kill whoever you're wearing."
"What if I told you he's a hunter by the name of Robinson?"
"I'm not surprised."
"He does look the type, doesn't he?" Lucifer looked down and pat his hands on his chest. "Rawhead killed his children some twenty years ago. He's hunted all this time, but he never knew he could be an angelic vessel. Until now, that is."
Dean knew it didn't do any good, but he pulled the gun out of his jacket anyway. Instead of aiming it, he let it hang in his hand. Lucifer looked square at the gun.
"I wasn't kidding," he said. "I want you to shoot."
"I don't want to."
"The gun in your hand says different."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Why would you want me to shoot?"
"Because it would kill me," Lucifer said. "Being sealed didn't keep me whole."
"Yeah. Sure."
Lucifer laughed quietly. "You should have brought Castiel with you. He knows."
"He's fine where he is."
"I could bring him here."
Dean's grip on the gun tightened. "Don't touch him."
"I'll leave the prophet alone, if that's what's bothering you."
"This is between us," Dean said. "I don't want anyone else brought into it."
"Or maybe there's another angel that you'd rather see?"
Before Dean could say another word, Lucifer raised a hand. Light flashed, and when Dean's vision cleared, another person stood in the barn with them.
"Anna?" he said as he walked toward her. She gave Dean a puzzled expression, but when she took in the man by the fire, she gaped in his direction.
"Lucifer," she said. "You cannot summon--"
"Oh, I can," he broke in. "It's Anna now?"
Anna met Dean's gaze, then dropped her voice. "We have to leave. Now."
"Not without Sam," Dean whispered back. He doubted quiet talking would get past Lucifer, but he felt better doing it.
"Then put the gun away. You can't kill him."
Dean smirked. "I knew he was lying."
"If he said you could shoot him dead, he wasn't lying. But you can't do it."
"Why not?" Dean said. His head hurt. "I thought I was supposed to."
Anna shook her head frantically. "That's what Zachariah wants. It'll give Heaven the win."
"And?"
"And it would bring end times!" She leaned closer to Dean. "This isn't the way to stop him."
Dean turned back to Lucifer without letting his grin drop. He put his gun back in his pocket and held up empty hands. "I'm sorry. I should have believed you."
Lucifer stood with perfect posture. It looked wrong on the body he wore. "Why'd you put the gun away?"
"Because I'm not going to shoot you."
Anna stepped up next to him. Her face was paler with the light of the fire reflected on it. "Give us Sam."
"Are you sure?"
Dean frowned. "Why wouldn't we be sure?"
"Because Sam will do whatever I tell him," Lucifer said, raising his hand again.
"What is he talking about?" Dean whispered to Anna.
"It means he's controlling Sam," she said. "Are you sure you won't leave?"
"I told you, not without--"
"Yeah," she said, then raised her voice. "Let him go."
Lucifer dropped his hand, and Sam leapt forward.
Dean barely had a chance to blink before Sam's fist swung for his head. It made contact, but Dean swung his head with the impact and threw up his arms. Just as he grabbed for Sam's arm, Sam shifted out of his reach and kicked. Dean fell, and Sam put a hand on his throat, cutting off Dean's air.
Sam raised his fist again, and Dean flinched.
"Stop!" Anna cried.
The fist came down on Dean's cheek. He grunted, and the fist raised another time.
"Only if he agrees to shoot me."
"No," Dean said in a choked voice.
Sam's fist fell once more, hitting Dean's nose this time. Tears streamed from his eyes as agony spread upward.
"What if I make you a deal?"
The pressure on Dean's throat eased slightly, but blood trickled into his mouth from his nose. He spit it out as best he could, but Sam kept him from shifting much, so it wasn't perfect.
"A deal?" Lucifer said. "I haven't done one of those in a while."
"Let Sam and Dean go, and I'll..."
"You'll...?"
"I'll go with you," Anna said. "I'll be your second."
The edges of Dean's vision went black. He blinked hard and focused on the ceiling above. All he could see was Sam's gaze, which was vacant again, and the shadows of Anna and Lucifer, both of which had feathery wings attached to their bodies.
"What makes you think I want an angel? I have Sam Winchester, and as many demons as I want."
"Sam Winchester's mortal. And there's few powerful demons left...you don't have Lilith, or even Azazel."
"What about your allegiance to God?"
The shadows flickered as the wind picked up. "God is missing, and I can't trust the current powers."
"You'll run off to join the Winchesters the first chance you get."
"And be chased by both you and the angels?"
Lucifer laughed. "I don't trust you."
"I have to follow the deal."
Dean's vision faded for a second time, and this time, he knew he wasn't going to be able to fight it. He spit the blood out of his mouth again – if nothing else, he could not to choke to death while he was out – and let his lids drop.
The last thing he remembered was the throaty laugh of the body Lucifer inhabited ringing in his ears.
His arm trembled.
Dean groaned. "Stop."
It trembled again. No, not trembled; someone was shaking it.
"Stop," he repeated.
"Can you hear me?"
"My head wishes I couldn't," he muttered.
He managed to pry his eyes open. Sam was sitting in front of him.
Dean felt crummy enough that all he could do was smile. "Sammy."
Sam exhaled loudly. "I thought I'd killed you."
"It wasn't you," Dean said.
He glanced around. The world spun when he did, but he managed to see the fire was out and the daylight outside the barn before he squeezed his eyes shut.
"Did they leave?" he asked. His voice sounded slightly slurred, but he was probably imagining it.
"They?"
"Lucifer. And Anna."
Sam frowned. "I remember Lucifer."
"Anna gave us a chance," Dean said.
"Where's the car?"
"Chuck, and Castiel..."
"What?"
Dean waved a hand. "They have my phone. They should be parked by the road."
Sam patted his pockets until he extracted his cell phone from his jeans. Dean's eyelids fluttered, but he willed them to stay open.
"You need to get to a hospital," Sam said. His phone was to his ear.
Dean wanted to argue, but he didn't have the strength. Instead he said, "Are you okay?""
"I'm fine." Sam looked away. "Dean, about--"
"Not now. Let me stop bleeding first."
Sam smiled faintly. "Okay."
Apparently, either Chuck or Castiel picked up the phone, because Sam turned his head away and spoke to whomever picked up. Dean watched for a second, then closed his eyes and tried to remember what Bobby had said the last time they'd talked. Something about half-dead. Well, if this wasn't half-dead, he didn't know what was.
He couldn't care about what was to come. It'd probably be more than he could handle, as usual, but for now, all he could do was pass out and wake up in a bed somewhere, let people fuss, and get back to work.
It never ended. And it was best that way.