FIC: Just Fallen from Divine (1/6)
Jul. 24th, 2009 04:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nilchanceTitle: Just Fallen from Divine (1/6)
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance and beanside
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: We make no claim of ownership on the Brothers Winchester. No infringement is intended, no money is made.
Author Notes: This is an AU of Of Bastard Saints, set after the Season 4 finale.
The apocalypse was kind of anti-climactic: Lilith's body on the floor, an open pit where the altar used to be, a blinding surge of light, a thunder-crack like Cas's real voice breaking glass, and then...
Nothing. Just him and Sammy staring at each other, waiting for the other shoe to fall.
"Dean," Sam had said, his heart in his eyes, looking like he was about to bleed his guts out on the floor; he felt so guilty.
Dean hadn't had it in him to say it was okay. Obviously things were as okay as they ever got; neither of them were dead or dying. He had slapped Sammy in the shoulder hard, as much reassurance as he had in him, and he'd said, "We've gotta go."
Sam had gulped down air like he was choking on it, swallowed hard a couple of times, and nodded. Whatever they had to say to each other, if they even needed to say anything, it would wait.
It had been a long drive to Kripke's Hollow, especially given that the only car available was Ruby's shitty Mustang. The Impala would have to wait until they could get back to Bobby's to grab it, much as Dean would feel better with his baby.
***
"-- worldwide sources are reporting a strange light shooting into near space--"
"-- unauthorized military testing, no need to be alarmed--"
"Why would it light up the night in Jordan and in New York? The authorities, as usual, they're not telling us everything. What if this is a weapon? What if it was a nuke?"
"Readings on the DMSP satellites say that airborne pollutants are at an all-time low, and the ozone layer is beginning to knit. Obviously this is some kind of mistake; even if the unusual solar flare was involved, the statistical probability of a random event creating that kind of result--"
"Brothers and sisters, the endtimes have come! God is great to his followers and vengeful to his enemies, oh my Lord, amen."
***
Chuck's house was standing, at least. Actually, if you ignored the charred brush and downed trees, it looked perfectly normal. Nobody came out when Dean laid on the horn or when, after exchanging a look with Sam, they got out of the Mustang and slammed the doors shut. There was no smoke on the horizon, no chaos in the streets, but the streets and highways were eerily empty. Aside from a few truckers doing their usual routes, ignoring the apocalypse like they ignored bad weather, it had just been them cutting through the night into quiet morning.
Frankly, it gave Dean the goddamn creeps.
Sam was eyeing the other run-down houses, his eyes dry and red-rimmed. Neither of them had slept, or stopped longer than it took to piss off the side of the road. They hadn't talked much, either. After a quick, morbid listen to the hasty cover-ups on the radio, they'd made the rest of the trip in tense silence.
"People are moving in there," Sam said. "Just not coming out."
"What'd you expect, the Rapture?" Dean hauled the trunk open and tossed Sam a sawed-off. It wouldn't bring down an archangel, but hell if they'd go into a trap without something. Grabbing another of Ruby's stockpile, Dean bellowed at the house, "Chuck!"
More quiet. Dean glanced at Sam again, who shrugged and gestured that he'd take the back of the house. Ruby was dead, thank fuck, and Bobby was miles off, but Dean felt the keen lack of a trustworthy third to watch Sam's back. Or to make sure Sam didn't bolt. There was a restless, crazy energy around Sam that said he might just take off, that demon blood humming in his veins.
And from the way Sam looked at him, Sam knew why Dean was hesitating.
Grudgingly, Dean nodded. He covered Sam's exit, and listened hard when he lost sight of Sam's back. He eased up to the house, one eye on the sky like he could even see the archangels coming for him.
Then he heard a terrible, ear-rending sound that nearly dropped him to his knees. He stumbled, the shotgun slipping through his fingers, only to jerk back to his feet when he realized what the noise was: Cas, alive but hurt enough to make his control slip.
He hadn't expected the hard surge of relief that Cas had survived at all.
When he kicked the door open, the other side was a strange scene. Chuck in his bathrobe, looking aggrieved and rattled; Sam kneeling on the floor; Castiel, bleeding all over the place, pinned by a beam of silver light that seemed to rip the world around it just to fit in the small room.
"Dean," Castiel said, his voice strained. "You are alive."
"Yeah." Shouldering the door shut behind him, Dean hustled over to Sam. His boots squeaked in the blood. Too much blood. He glanced at Sam, the grim look on Sam's face, and then away. "Yeah, man. What's with the pointy nightlight?"
"Big fucking angel," Chuck said. His face was smudged with blood, nearly gray beneath it. "Busted in while all his buddies waited outside."
"Michael. He did not require the garrison to kill me. I--" When Dean tried to close his fingers around the beam of light, it slipped away like water, but Castiel grunted with pain. His eyes were very blue, searching out Dean's, and Dean knew with awful certainty that Castiel was looking for an order. Something. "I fought him."
"That's good. Just..." Dean touched Castiel's chest instead, felt the faltering rhythm of his breath. "Don't talk."
"Dean," Castiel repeated, and his mouth twitched in an imitation of smiling. "I am dying. Regardless, I will fade."
"Hey. Hey. Don't." Dean faltered, sent a silent apology to Jimmy's kid. Wherever she was. It was unforgivable, but he said it anyway. "Skip the vessel. Find somebody else."
Castiel peered at him, still so fucking pale, then past him at Sam. Fumbling one hand up, he gripped Sam by the wrist. His fingers were going blue. "Sam Winchester," he said gravely, "I cannot say you are forgiven--"
Sam didn't flinch, but that weighed him down like a rock on a drowning man. "I know."
"But you are a good man. A good man," laying hard emphasis on each word. "Do not forget."
"This is touching," said the small blond man that was suddenly standing by Chuck. "Shall I free Jimmy Novak now, or would you rather wait until he rots and taints your grace?"
The shotgun was up in a heartbeat, but from the ancient look in the creature's eyes, it wouldn't do much. The creature... funny words for a man that came up to Dean's chin and that peered out of crooked eyeglasses. He could shake this wuss down for lunch money. Then again, he'd have said the same about Ruby, and she'd nearly ruined Sam.
Dean snarled, "Don't touch him."
Pale blue eyes met his for a moment, and a smile broke out across the demon's almost too-pretty face. "Dean," it breathed, then shook itself. "This isn't the time. I have to touch him, or I can't get the sword out. A soul devourer on such a small angel? Unnecessary roughness. Michael always was a petty little bastard."
"He, uh. Bugged out when the light hit," Chuck said suddenly. "All the angels did."
"He would. Prissy little shit. I'm going to kick his ass. Nice of him to leave the sword for me." It--(he?) reached for the sliver of silver light again, and Sam's gun joined Dean's, cocked and aimed at its head. It scowled, pushing stray blond hair away from its eyes with the back of one hand. "Would you two cut that out? It's really fucking annoying."
"No," Castiel wheezed, and pushed himself painfully up onto his elbows. "Get thee behind me, Unclean! Worm, Adversary, Prince of Lies! You will not harm them-" Castiel tried to block Dean with one arm, and the word ended on a whimper as the sword slid another inch up.
"Of course I won't," it said, looking at Castiel as if finally seeing him. "They set me free. Ended my millennia of torment."
"Shit, shit, shit," Sam whispered. "Lucifer?"
"I prefer Andrew, but that's fine, too. Now, hold still, angel. This is going to suck."
Dean hissed, finger curling around the trigger.
Lucifer met Dean's eyes, a brief jarring contact. There were no visions of hell, no searing pain. "Let me do this, Dean, or he's going to die."
Castiel pawed at Dean's ankle, probably trying to stop him. It only made Dean remember the scarred handprint on his arm. Betrayal or not, Cas had saved his life. He was family now.
Apparently Dean could expect to get betrayed by family.
Dean lowered the gun.
Lucifer bent, hand wrapping around the sword blade. Blood seeped from between his fingers, sliding down to pool with Castiel's. Castiel made a choked, agonized sound. The beam of light slid free with an almost musical tone, disappearing into the ether. Pretty, if you ignored the clotting stink of scorched blood.
"Now, for the rest," Lucifer muttered, and knelt in the blood so he could lay his hand over the wound. It was bad, Dean could see the darker reds of muscle and organ between Lucifer's fingers. "Be healed, Castiel, and rise anew."
For a moment, that same light that had sprung from the altar flared, leaving afterimages in Dean's visions. Then it faded, and Lucifer was rising to his feet.
Castiel's breath slid out, and Dean was sure it was his last. Then he sucked in another breath, his shaking hand going to his stomach. His whole, unbroken stomach.
Cas stood in that annoying abrupt way, that inhuman way; Dean lowered the gun, watching the play of emotions on his angel's face. (His?) Cas still didn't look happy about--fuck. Lucifer.
Dean looked back at the devil, startling a look of longing on the bastard's face. It was a look that belonged somewhere else, not in the dim bloody mess of Chuck's living room, and definitely not directed at him.
"Okay, someone-- who is not Satan!-- had better fucking start explaining," Dean barked.
Pocket Satan glared at him, and said in the stilted not-quite-right accent, "I don't like that name. I told you, Andrew is preferred. Lucifer is fine."
"Shut up." Still clutching his gun, Dean put out an arm to steady Castiel. "You okay?"
"I-" Castiel pushed the trenchcoat aside and stared at his stomach, then glared at Lucifer in that smite-y way. "Jimmy Novak is gone."
Jimmy Novak; Dean thought abruptly, guiltily, of Claire's face. Of wrapping his own father's body for the pyre.
No time for grief, not now. War had casualties.
"I sent him on. Michael killed him, his soul was going to twist and rot inside you. Though if Heaven's been under Michael's care, I doubt it was much of a kindness to let him go." Lucifer shook his head, his LA-bitch haircut swinging into his eyes. Soft. Dean would eat this guys lunch, if he didn't know, but that was no reason to let his guard down. "Look, I've got things to do. Where the hell are the Mother and Father?"
Castiel's eyes narrowed. "You speak blasphemy. Get thee-"
"Yeah, yeah, behind you," Lucifer said, waving it away. Then, he leered-- fucking leered-- at Cas. "What do you want me to do while I'm back there?"
Dean wouldn't have expected Sam to be the one that snorted at that one. It was a new day. "Sam," he hissed.
But now, Lucifer was eyeing Castiel with something approaching sorrow. "You never knew Them, did you? Michael made you near the end of the War."
Them, spoken with the capital letter implied. Another big ass higher power stumbling in to ruin Dean's goddamn day. He glanced at Sam, automatically expecting to have someone at his back, but Sam was practically swaying on his feet. No telling what would happen when Sam started the demon blood DTs this time.
"Wait, what?" Dean snapped. Sam was watching the devil-on-angel argument like a tennis match.
"I did not have that authority. Only the archangels do. But I remember you," Castiel growled. "You murdered. Lied. You tore Heaven in your arrogance."
Lucifer shook his head. "No. I tried to preserve it. Michael tricked and imprisoned me. Killed so many." His eyes widened. "Oh. Uriel's dead? I am sorry, Castiel. Michael wouldn't have been able to make him forget. Only make him crazy. What of Anael?"
Castiel opened his mouth soundlessly, then swallowed. "I betrayed her."
"What?" Dean snapped. Sam nearly flinched, his eyes averting to the floor for one dangerous moment before twitching back to cover Lucifer. That lapse, that could get Sam killed if Lucifer had been in the mood.
Except Lucifer didn't try to kill them. What did that say about the side they were on?
"It's all right," Lucifer murmured. "We will fix it." He glanced at Dean again, and at Sam. "So. I should get going. Stuff to do. Assholes to smite. Peace out."
And the fucker headed for the door.
Dean followed, gun back out. "Wait--you can't--you're evil!"
Lucifer stopped in his tracks, then turned his head to stare at Dean. He didn't change, didn't flash wing or draw a weapon, but in that moment he seemed to cast a bigger shadow. Dean's trigger finger itched, but a few bullets, that wouldn't put this guy down. He didn't know what would put him down.
"You know, in thousands upon thousands of worlds, never once did I fall," Lucifer murmured, voice somehow thicker, less human. "There are some where I have left, where I have been betrayed and tricked, and where I have done my job. But I have always been loyal to the Mother and the Father."
"The Mother?" Dean snorted. "What is this, Lilith Fair? Nobody said anything about a mother, and your dad's out of town. So his kids had a party and messed everything up. Both sides, so don't you fucking talk to me about angels or falling or any of that crap. You be loyal to your guys, I'll keep track of mine."
"As you do," Lucifer murmured, then sighed and seemed to fade. To shift back into a small, lean man with a bitch haircut. "As you always seem to, whenever we meet."
"I know you in another world?" Dean asked, voice thick with sarcasm. "Am I evil in that world?"
"Sometimes. But in every world, I have loved you, Dean Winchester." Lucifer sighed. "As inconvenient as that is. Particularly since I just met you."
Loved him. Loved him? Dean felt a hysterical laugh flutter in his throat, but choked it back to keep from spiraling out. It had been a long day, and a hard one, and he didn't need this bullshit. None of it. "Shouldn't we be having this talk with Air Supply in the background?"
(It figured, didn't it, that the one who loved him was Satan. A thing like him...)
Andrew ducked his head, smiling, but his ears were pink. Blushing. It didn't seem right that Lucifer blushed. Dean heard, like in the distance, the first beat of wings. He knew that sound.
"Hey, you! Hey!" Dean grabbed Lucifer by his scrawny little shoulder. "Don't you pull that disappearing act. You get the fuck back here and explain what's happening, or--"
"You'll dislocate my arm?"
"I will kick the unholy shit out of you! Stop with the-- why don't you just blink out, you defective or something, you--" Great. He was cursing out Satan. Dean grunted and gave Lucifer a good shake with both hands, rattling his pretty little head on his stupid fragile neck. "I have had it with you goddamn angels with your flying and your killing and your bullshit!"
"Dean!" Sam called from the porch, "Dean, don't--"
"Blink out," Lucifer said mildly, "interesting."
And then the world blanched white, and Dean wasn't on the ground anymore.
Authors:
nilchance and beansideRating: Adult
Disclaimer: We make no claim of ownership on the Brothers Winchester. No infringement is intended, no money is made.
Author Notes: This is an AU of Of Bastard Saints, set after the Season 4 finale.
The apocalypse was kind of anti-climactic: Lilith's body on the floor, an open pit where the altar used to be, a blinding surge of light, a thunder-crack like Cas's real voice breaking glass, and then...
Nothing. Just him and Sammy staring at each other, waiting for the other shoe to fall.
"Dean," Sam had said, his heart in his eyes, looking like he was about to bleed his guts out on the floor; he felt so guilty.
Dean hadn't had it in him to say it was okay. Obviously things were as okay as they ever got; neither of them were dead or dying. He had slapped Sammy in the shoulder hard, as much reassurance as he had in him, and he'd said, "We've gotta go."
Sam had gulped down air like he was choking on it, swallowed hard a couple of times, and nodded. Whatever they had to say to each other, if they even needed to say anything, it would wait.
It had been a long drive to Kripke's Hollow, especially given that the only car available was Ruby's shitty Mustang. The Impala would have to wait until they could get back to Bobby's to grab it, much as Dean would feel better with his baby.
***
"-- worldwide sources are reporting a strange light shooting into near space--"
"-- unauthorized military testing, no need to be alarmed--"
"Why would it light up the night in Jordan and in New York? The authorities, as usual, they're not telling us everything. What if this is a weapon? What if it was a nuke?"
"Readings on the DMSP satellites say that airborne pollutants are at an all-time low, and the ozone layer is beginning to knit. Obviously this is some kind of mistake; even if the unusual solar flare was involved, the statistical probability of a random event creating that kind of result--"
"Brothers and sisters, the endtimes have come! God is great to his followers and vengeful to his enemies, oh my Lord, amen."
***
Chuck's house was standing, at least. Actually, if you ignored the charred brush and downed trees, it looked perfectly normal. Nobody came out when Dean laid on the horn or when, after exchanging a look with Sam, they got out of the Mustang and slammed the doors shut. There was no smoke on the horizon, no chaos in the streets, but the streets and highways were eerily empty. Aside from a few truckers doing their usual routes, ignoring the apocalypse like they ignored bad weather, it had just been them cutting through the night into quiet morning.
Frankly, it gave Dean the goddamn creeps.
Sam was eyeing the other run-down houses, his eyes dry and red-rimmed. Neither of them had slept, or stopped longer than it took to piss off the side of the road. They hadn't talked much, either. After a quick, morbid listen to the hasty cover-ups on the radio, they'd made the rest of the trip in tense silence.
"People are moving in there," Sam said. "Just not coming out."
"What'd you expect, the Rapture?" Dean hauled the trunk open and tossed Sam a sawed-off. It wouldn't bring down an archangel, but hell if they'd go into a trap without something. Grabbing another of Ruby's stockpile, Dean bellowed at the house, "Chuck!"
More quiet. Dean glanced at Sam again, who shrugged and gestured that he'd take the back of the house. Ruby was dead, thank fuck, and Bobby was miles off, but Dean felt the keen lack of a trustworthy third to watch Sam's back. Or to make sure Sam didn't bolt. There was a restless, crazy energy around Sam that said he might just take off, that demon blood humming in his veins.
And from the way Sam looked at him, Sam knew why Dean was hesitating.
Grudgingly, Dean nodded. He covered Sam's exit, and listened hard when he lost sight of Sam's back. He eased up to the house, one eye on the sky like he could even see the archangels coming for him.
Then he heard a terrible, ear-rending sound that nearly dropped him to his knees. He stumbled, the shotgun slipping through his fingers, only to jerk back to his feet when he realized what the noise was: Cas, alive but hurt enough to make his control slip.
He hadn't expected the hard surge of relief that Cas had survived at all.
When he kicked the door open, the other side was a strange scene. Chuck in his bathrobe, looking aggrieved and rattled; Sam kneeling on the floor; Castiel, bleeding all over the place, pinned by a beam of silver light that seemed to rip the world around it just to fit in the small room.
"Dean," Castiel said, his voice strained. "You are alive."
"Yeah." Shouldering the door shut behind him, Dean hustled over to Sam. His boots squeaked in the blood. Too much blood. He glanced at Sam, the grim look on Sam's face, and then away. "Yeah, man. What's with the pointy nightlight?"
"Big fucking angel," Chuck said. His face was smudged with blood, nearly gray beneath it. "Busted in while all his buddies waited outside."
"Michael. He did not require the garrison to kill me. I--" When Dean tried to close his fingers around the beam of light, it slipped away like water, but Castiel grunted with pain. His eyes were very blue, searching out Dean's, and Dean knew with awful certainty that Castiel was looking for an order. Something. "I fought him."
"That's good. Just..." Dean touched Castiel's chest instead, felt the faltering rhythm of his breath. "Don't talk."
"Dean," Castiel repeated, and his mouth twitched in an imitation of smiling. "I am dying. Regardless, I will fade."
"Hey. Hey. Don't." Dean faltered, sent a silent apology to Jimmy's kid. Wherever she was. It was unforgivable, but he said it anyway. "Skip the vessel. Find somebody else."
Castiel peered at him, still so fucking pale, then past him at Sam. Fumbling one hand up, he gripped Sam by the wrist. His fingers were going blue. "Sam Winchester," he said gravely, "I cannot say you are forgiven--"
Sam didn't flinch, but that weighed him down like a rock on a drowning man. "I know."
"But you are a good man. A good man," laying hard emphasis on each word. "Do not forget."
"This is touching," said the small blond man that was suddenly standing by Chuck. "Shall I free Jimmy Novak now, or would you rather wait until he rots and taints your grace?"
The shotgun was up in a heartbeat, but from the ancient look in the creature's eyes, it wouldn't do much. The creature... funny words for a man that came up to Dean's chin and that peered out of crooked eyeglasses. He could shake this wuss down for lunch money. Then again, he'd have said the same about Ruby, and she'd nearly ruined Sam.
Dean snarled, "Don't touch him."
Pale blue eyes met his for a moment, and a smile broke out across the demon's almost too-pretty face. "Dean," it breathed, then shook itself. "This isn't the time. I have to touch him, or I can't get the sword out. A soul devourer on such a small angel? Unnecessary roughness. Michael always was a petty little bastard."
"He, uh. Bugged out when the light hit," Chuck said suddenly. "All the angels did."
"He would. Prissy little shit. I'm going to kick his ass. Nice of him to leave the sword for me." It--(he?) reached for the sliver of silver light again, and Sam's gun joined Dean's, cocked and aimed at its head. It scowled, pushing stray blond hair away from its eyes with the back of one hand. "Would you two cut that out? It's really fucking annoying."
"No," Castiel wheezed, and pushed himself painfully up onto his elbows. "Get thee behind me, Unclean! Worm, Adversary, Prince of Lies! You will not harm them-" Castiel tried to block Dean with one arm, and the word ended on a whimper as the sword slid another inch up.
"Of course I won't," it said, looking at Castiel as if finally seeing him. "They set me free. Ended my millennia of torment."
"Shit, shit, shit," Sam whispered. "Lucifer?"
"I prefer Andrew, but that's fine, too. Now, hold still, angel. This is going to suck."
Dean hissed, finger curling around the trigger.
Lucifer met Dean's eyes, a brief jarring contact. There were no visions of hell, no searing pain. "Let me do this, Dean, or he's going to die."
Castiel pawed at Dean's ankle, probably trying to stop him. It only made Dean remember the scarred handprint on his arm. Betrayal or not, Cas had saved his life. He was family now.
Apparently Dean could expect to get betrayed by family.
Dean lowered the gun.
Lucifer bent, hand wrapping around the sword blade. Blood seeped from between his fingers, sliding down to pool with Castiel's. Castiel made a choked, agonized sound. The beam of light slid free with an almost musical tone, disappearing into the ether. Pretty, if you ignored the clotting stink of scorched blood.
"Now, for the rest," Lucifer muttered, and knelt in the blood so he could lay his hand over the wound. It was bad, Dean could see the darker reds of muscle and organ between Lucifer's fingers. "Be healed, Castiel, and rise anew."
For a moment, that same light that had sprung from the altar flared, leaving afterimages in Dean's visions. Then it faded, and Lucifer was rising to his feet.
Castiel's breath slid out, and Dean was sure it was his last. Then he sucked in another breath, his shaking hand going to his stomach. His whole, unbroken stomach.
Cas stood in that annoying abrupt way, that inhuman way; Dean lowered the gun, watching the play of emotions on his angel's face. (His?) Cas still didn't look happy about--fuck. Lucifer.
Dean looked back at the devil, startling a look of longing on the bastard's face. It was a look that belonged somewhere else, not in the dim bloody mess of Chuck's living room, and definitely not directed at him.
"Okay, someone-- who is not Satan!-- had better fucking start explaining," Dean barked.
Pocket Satan glared at him, and said in the stilted not-quite-right accent, "I don't like that name. I told you, Andrew is preferred. Lucifer is fine."
"Shut up." Still clutching his gun, Dean put out an arm to steady Castiel. "You okay?"
"I-" Castiel pushed the trenchcoat aside and stared at his stomach, then glared at Lucifer in that smite-y way. "Jimmy Novak is gone."
Jimmy Novak; Dean thought abruptly, guiltily, of Claire's face. Of wrapping his own father's body for the pyre.
No time for grief, not now. War had casualties.
"I sent him on. Michael killed him, his soul was going to twist and rot inside you. Though if Heaven's been under Michael's care, I doubt it was much of a kindness to let him go." Lucifer shook his head, his LA-bitch haircut swinging into his eyes. Soft. Dean would eat this guys lunch, if he didn't know, but that was no reason to let his guard down. "Look, I've got things to do. Where the hell are the Mother and Father?"
Castiel's eyes narrowed. "You speak blasphemy. Get thee-"
"Yeah, yeah, behind you," Lucifer said, waving it away. Then, he leered-- fucking leered-- at Cas. "What do you want me to do while I'm back there?"
Dean wouldn't have expected Sam to be the one that snorted at that one. It was a new day. "Sam," he hissed.
But now, Lucifer was eyeing Castiel with something approaching sorrow. "You never knew Them, did you? Michael made you near the end of the War."
Them, spoken with the capital letter implied. Another big ass higher power stumbling in to ruin Dean's goddamn day. He glanced at Sam, automatically expecting to have someone at his back, but Sam was practically swaying on his feet. No telling what would happen when Sam started the demon blood DTs this time.
"Wait, what?" Dean snapped. Sam was watching the devil-on-angel argument like a tennis match.
"I did not have that authority. Only the archangels do. But I remember you," Castiel growled. "You murdered. Lied. You tore Heaven in your arrogance."
Lucifer shook his head. "No. I tried to preserve it. Michael tricked and imprisoned me. Killed so many." His eyes widened. "Oh. Uriel's dead? I am sorry, Castiel. Michael wouldn't have been able to make him forget. Only make him crazy. What of Anael?"
Castiel opened his mouth soundlessly, then swallowed. "I betrayed her."
"What?" Dean snapped. Sam nearly flinched, his eyes averting to the floor for one dangerous moment before twitching back to cover Lucifer. That lapse, that could get Sam killed if Lucifer had been in the mood.
Except Lucifer didn't try to kill them. What did that say about the side they were on?
"It's all right," Lucifer murmured. "We will fix it." He glanced at Dean again, and at Sam. "So. I should get going. Stuff to do. Assholes to smite. Peace out."
And the fucker headed for the door.
Dean followed, gun back out. "Wait--you can't--you're evil!"
Lucifer stopped in his tracks, then turned his head to stare at Dean. He didn't change, didn't flash wing or draw a weapon, but in that moment he seemed to cast a bigger shadow. Dean's trigger finger itched, but a few bullets, that wouldn't put this guy down. He didn't know what would put him down.
"You know, in thousands upon thousands of worlds, never once did I fall," Lucifer murmured, voice somehow thicker, less human. "There are some where I have left, where I have been betrayed and tricked, and where I have done my job. But I have always been loyal to the Mother and the Father."
"The Mother?" Dean snorted. "What is this, Lilith Fair? Nobody said anything about a mother, and your dad's out of town. So his kids had a party and messed everything up. Both sides, so don't you fucking talk to me about angels or falling or any of that crap. You be loyal to your guys, I'll keep track of mine."
"As you do," Lucifer murmured, then sighed and seemed to fade. To shift back into a small, lean man with a bitch haircut. "As you always seem to, whenever we meet."
"I know you in another world?" Dean asked, voice thick with sarcasm. "Am I evil in that world?"
"Sometimes. But in every world, I have loved you, Dean Winchester." Lucifer sighed. "As inconvenient as that is. Particularly since I just met you."
Loved him. Loved him? Dean felt a hysterical laugh flutter in his throat, but choked it back to keep from spiraling out. It had been a long day, and a hard one, and he didn't need this bullshit. None of it. "Shouldn't we be having this talk with Air Supply in the background?"
(It figured, didn't it, that the one who loved him was Satan. A thing like him...)
Andrew ducked his head, smiling, but his ears were pink. Blushing. It didn't seem right that Lucifer blushed. Dean heard, like in the distance, the first beat of wings. He knew that sound.
"Hey, you! Hey!" Dean grabbed Lucifer by his scrawny little shoulder. "Don't you pull that disappearing act. You get the fuck back here and explain what's happening, or--"
"You'll dislocate my arm?"
"I will kick the unholy shit out of you! Stop with the-- why don't you just blink out, you defective or something, you--" Great. He was cursing out Satan. Dean grunted and gave Lucifer a good shake with both hands, rattling his pretty little head on his stupid fragile neck. "I have had it with you goddamn angels with your flying and your killing and your bullshit!"
"Dean!" Sam called from the porch, "Dean, don't--"
"Blink out," Lucifer said mildly, "interesting."
And then the world blanched white, and Dean wasn't on the ground anymore.
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Date: 2009-07-24 09:07 pm (UTC)Can't wait for more.
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Date: 2009-07-24 09:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-24 09:15 pm (UTC)I'll just sit here quietly and wait for more.
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Date: 2009-07-24 09:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-24 09:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-24 10:33 pm (UTC)Can't wait for more. Thanks!
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Date: 2009-07-24 11:20 pm (UTC)That being said I actually love this take on things! Great job!
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Date: 2009-07-25 01:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-25 02:09 am (UTC)This was awesome :D I LOVE IT HARDCORE.
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Date: 2009-07-25 02:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-25 02:50 am (UTC)Can't wait to read the rest. You guys are awesome :-)
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Date: 2009-07-25 03:09 am (UTC)Good stuff. :)
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Date: 2009-07-25 03:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-25 04:43 am (UTC)I ♥ you two, I really really do.
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Date: 2009-07-25 05:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-25 09:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-25 06:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-27 12:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-27 12:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-28 07:13 am (UTC)Eeee! *happy dolphin noises*
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Date: 2009-12-09 08:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-12 11:30 pm (UTC)Very Good
Date: 2010-02-13 08:20 pm (UTC)