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Summary: When the angels made contingency plans

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Supernatural > Multiple PairingsShulikFR152146,8491915337,6562 Oct 1017 Sep 11No


To the readers and reviewers- you guys keep me going.

Remember, it's the last days until the end of the COA's. I'm up for Best Twilight Crossover and Best Portrayal of Faith. Just saying ;)

Warnings for this chapter: None. You guys are already aware that I'm blaspheming with this.

“Hello Raguel, it’s been a long time,” Castiel says with a twitch of his lips, standing stiffly across from her.

Faith's smile is wide and her eyes are honest as she tugs Cas into a goddamn hug, enveloping him in an abundance of cleavage and hair and breathing into his neck “Oh Castiel, I’ve missed you.”

Here’s the thing. Dean has previously thought that Cas was sort of a lone wolf. An outsider, so to speak. None of the other angels have shown any true affection for him, Uriel was a condescending asshole half the time and Anna was still a dark horse. So to see this strange woman hugging an angel, that Dean has come to more or less define as his- it’s weird.

To see Cas hugging her back is even weirder.

There are words and stuff, explanations begging to be demanded but all that comes out of his mouth is a really whiny “What the hell man?” that almost makes him blush with shame.

Sam makes a snorting noise of disgust from where he’s perched on the next bed and Dawn giggles, actually giggles before throwing herself at Cas with an ear splitting shriek of “Castiel!”

She bounces off Cas, still grinning like a loon and Dean is bemused to see that the always stoic angel is red. Whether it’s from the physical exertion of having an almost six foot tall woman wrap her legs around him from a full sprint, or from the pure mortification of having been fondled by two new people in such a short period of time.

But then again, they’re not really new to him, are they? If Remiel, Buffy had trained him- then how old are they really?

“Ophriel,” Cas smiles and Dean frowns at that, “you’re very exuberant.”

“Yes, well,” Dawn blushes and tries to straighten her clothes out from where she had jumped on Cas with the enthusiasm of a puppy, “I haven’t seen you in like,” she pauses and stares at Cas a little giddily, “two thousand years?”

Dawn looks back at Faith and frowns, biting her lip and looking for all in the world like a teenager “Has it really been that long?”

“Hello Remiel,” Cas steps forward, walking towards Buffy, “it’s been too long.”

Before this moment, Dean had never really thought about what being Heaven’s soldier is like. He never would have seen an angelic general in yesterday’s Remy, but seeing the deference that Cas approaches her with, the respect and warmth- Dean is a little bit awed.

“Oh Cas,” Buffy sighs and tugs him forward into a brutal looking hug, “come here you big doofus.”

What is up with the manhandling going on here?

Dean’s seen angels before, hell, he’s interacted with too many of them for his liking. But these girls, with their jokes and their tired exhausted faces and their propensity for hugs willy nilly- they’re not exactly playing by the angelic rules.

“Forgive me,” Cas steps away from Buffy’s hug, looking like a chastened twelve year old after his mom catches him doing something highly uncomfortable.

“What for?” Buffy quirks an eyebrow, a strange expressive feat for someone that’s trained Heaven’s soldiers for war. But then again, in her five two blonde haired and green eyed body- she doesn’t seem much like a general of Heaven’s army. She looks more like a grad student, albeit a very hot grad student.

Nobody supernatural.

“For not helping you,” Cas bows his head, hiding that strange and intense stare of his, “for not looking for you.” If his wings were visible, Dean was pretty sure that they’d be drooping.

“Cas,” and it’s weird how Buffy’s started calling him that without hearing Dean use the moniker, “you big dummy, that was sort of the point.” She’s hugging him again, cuddling into his borrowed body like it’s normal and even though Cas hasn’t had much experience with physical expression beyond the whole warrior of God thing- he seems to adapt to hugging pretty fast.

Now that Dean’s had more time to get used to this situation, he can see the affection these beings have for each other. Because it’s a little weird to be calling angels people and because their energy just screams of power.

“Alright, and now that we’ve got the initial recriminations and surprise meetings out of the way,” Gabriel lets out a long breath, giddy on the surface and taut with tension underneath “we need to get to the crux of the matter.”

Dawn nods and begins digging in her pockets while Faith and Buffy look solemn as they flank the archangel.

Dean is a little discomfited to see that of course their gazes are drawn to him and Sammy. It wouldn’t be Thursday and they wouldn’t be Winchesters if supernatural beings weren’t out for answers from them.

“Why are you back now?” Cas interrupts whatever speech Gabriel must have had planned, not even looking at them as he asks the question. He sits on the chair nearest to Dean’s bed and his head is slumped as he stares at his hands, his shoulders are tense. Even his hair seems to be sticking up more than usual, probably from the agitation.

“I think that’s obvious,” Dean snarks from where he’s still tied up , trying to look as intimidating as a man drugged with Rohypnol and tied up with some pretty heavy rope can be. He even has his best glower firmly in place, sneer and narrowed eyes working together to show the world just how displeased he is with his current situation.

“It’s cause we let big brother out of his timeout corner, isn’t it?” he drawls, leaning backwards so that his back touches the headboard. “That’s why you drugged us,” he shoots a glare over at Buffy’s direction, because for some unfathomable reason he blames her most of all, “that’s why you lied to us. Used us.”

He eyes Cas out of the corner of his eyes, “Why haven’t you untied us yet?” he demands, not caring in the slightest that he sounds a little bit whiny and a whole lot pissy.

“First of all,” Dawn huffs as she points her left index finger up in the air with an almost offended look on her face, “you have some major issues, buddy. Who in the hell made you get all LA confidential with us, when you didn’t even know who we were!”

Her voice raises into a screechy crescendo and Dean is gratified to see that he’s not the only one that flinches at the sound. “And second,” Dawn throws a sneer of her own back at him, “how do we know we can trust you?”

“Dawn,” Faith moves towards the taller girl and tugs her backwards, towards the wall “take it easy.” She shrugs ruefully at Dean and Sam “Sorry about that. She’s a little tetchy. But uh,” she eyes Dean curiously, “do you really make a habit of getting drunk with strange women? Cause I gotta tell you,” she snorts, “that don’t make you much of a hunter.”

Great. Now he’s getting schooled in the art of hunting from the angelic kidnappers that drugged him and his brother. Is there no low point to this day?

“Shut up,” he murmurs petulantly, wincing once the words slip out and the gleeful expression on Faith’s face ratchets up a few notches.

From the snickering coming out of Sam, Dean can tell that his brother is highly amused by the levels of childishness coming out of his mouth.

“Hold still,” Cas murmurs from behind him. Dean startles at the proximity. When the hell did he get so close with his cold and sharp knife that slices through the ropes like butter.

“Hey,” Gabriel interrupts Dean on his rant about personal space, just as he’s about to let it verbalize. The trickiest archangel of them all has an almost savage gleam in his eyes and Dean’s stomach drops in anticipation. The last time Gabriel looked so trigger happy, he and Sammy ended up getting stuck in TV land and having their nuts pummeled off in a Japanese game show.

“Wasn’t there a prophet hanging around you, the last time I checked? Twitchy? Bearded fellow, carrying a bottle of Jack like it was his firstborn?”

“You’ve got a prophet?” Buffy’s voice is immediately interested as she turns to Dean with a questioning raise of her eyebrow. “Like, a genuine one?”

Sam shuffles on his bed, looking both fascinated at the conversation and uncomfortable with Cas’s close proximity as their angel cuts at his ropes. “Kind of.”

“How can you kind of have a prophet?” Faith asks.

Dean hasn’t really noticed it before, but every time that Faith speaks, Cas tenses. Whereas he’s almost comfortable with Buffy, Faith makes him a little edgy.

“He’s kind of an alcoholic?..." Sam pauses "He’s not really all that reliable.” Sam shrugs, rubbing at his wrists after bestowing a grateful nod at Cas who sidles away.

Gabriel snorts, shoving at Buffy’s elbow with a gleeful kind of camaraderie seen only in ten year old boys on the playground, “They should have seen Peter, am I right?” He grins, lighting up like a small Christmas bulb at the mere thought of the Winchesters seeing Peter.

Dean doesn’t understand why one of the most powerful beings in creation would choose such a short body to walk around in. Cas had explained that Remiel and her sisters had paved the way for falling angels, they had shown those of the Host who dug deep enough how to fashion their own bodies on earth. This means that Gabriel chose to look like a douchey midget when he ran from Heaven.

Then again, a huge part of Gabriel’s modus operandi is his propensity for trickery, his need to be underestimated. Gabriel operated better when he thought he was getting one up on you.

“What was wrong with Peter?” Sam asks, like Dean knew he would.

“Dude was a hardcore party animal,” Gabriel crows, laughing like a demented little hyena as he reminisces.

“Yeah, he used to get a little too into the sacramental wine,” Dawn pipes up from where she had apparently reigned in her temper from her earlier outburst, “if you know what I mean.”

“You shouldn’t blaspheme about a Saint like this,” Cas intones from where he’s doing a pretty bang up job of blending into the wallpaper, “he was the leader of Christianity after the Son left. You should pay him more respect.”

“Oh calm down you big girl,” Faith rolls her eyes, “of course we respect him. We were there with him, weren’t we? Just saying that he could definitely hold his grape juice, that’s all.” She moves closer to the bed where Dean is still a little tense and a whole lot wary.

Faith sighs and crouches down in front of Dean, big brown eyes serious as she considers him “Is the prophet for real?”

Dean is about to come up with a sufficiently searing retort when his phone rings. It’s the prophet, proving that he is ‘for real’.

“Hey Chuck,” Dean says with a smug look at the room at large, “we were just talking about you.”

“Listen,” Chuck’s voice sounds tinny and urgent over the low hum of an engine. Is the idiot actually driving? “I can’t talk for long, I don’t know whether my calls are being traced. I’m just calling to let you know not to fuck this up, the really hot chicks in front of you are you and your brother’s solution to the apocalypse. Don’t piss them off more than you absolutely have to, and start driving to Bobby’s, I’ll meet you there. I’m on my way,” he rattles off in one big breath.

“Whoa,” Dean hops off the bed, giving Sam the signal to start packing, “are you alright?” Because, though he maybe twitchy and a pervy drunk- he’s still a part of the whole Team Free Will effort. Albeit, a periphery part but maybe he’s about to get a bigger role.

“I’m fine Dean, you don’t need to worry,” Chuck’s voice sounds like he’s smiling, “I gotta go. But before I do, make sure to tell Sam to stop flirting with Faith. She’s so not available, it’s not even funny. That way lies badness.” And with those ominous words, Chuck hangs up on Dean without even a goodbye.

“We need to get to Bobby’s,” Dean announces in Sam’s direction but kind of hopes that everyone else will understand that the invitation is a general one.

“Who was that?” Buffy shoots him a look.

“The prophet, he knows about you guys and he’s going to our friends to meet up with us,” Dean answers, stuffing his shit into the utility black duffle he’s been carrying around with him since forever. He feels kind of proud of himself, that he's managed to resist taunting the angels that the prophet is real. So there. Nya nya nya.

“I have a question,” Sam speaks up and everyone’s attention is diverted to him. His gaze is frankly curious and a little bit devious as he nods with his head in the direction of the women, “Why did you tie us up? Couldn’t you have mind-whammied us without the use of drugs?”

Dean is about to crow something delightfully uncouth when he sees Cas tilt his head, studying the women thoughtfully as he edges closer to them. There is a silence where nobody moves and then Castiel hisses. “You lost it,” he breathes out, eyes trailing over their shapes intently, “didn’t you?”

“We didn’t lose it,” Dawn sounds a little bit sulky as she crosses her arms and grinds the tip of her shoe into the carpet, “we sort of, kind of hid it when we left. And now we can’t find it.”

“Will he save them?” Raguel stood at his back, stern and vigilant- ever the soldier even on a mission to earth.

Gabriel smiled at the child, seeing the innate light emanating from the infant, his true beauty and his path. He extended a finger and tickled under his chin, making the baby coo at the sensation.

“He has a destiny,” Gabriel replied, “destiny is inescapable.”

The sun began peeking out from the crevice between hills. Gabriel could smell the promise of something great on the air, the knowledge that he was doing his Father’s work, that he was saving thousands of people by doing this.

“He’s a child,” Raguel went on bended knee beside him. The leather of her soldier’s uniform clashed horribly with the white linen of Gabriel’s cloth. Her eyes were hard as she stared at the blinking human baby, emotionless. “How is he supposed to save us?”

“He’s our Father’s son,” Gabriel didn’t like this line of questioning. It reminded him too much of Lucifer and his tales. He felt sick with the foreboding of things to come. “He has to.”

“That’s not an answer,” Raguel closed her eyes and tipped her face back to the morning’s sun.

Gabriel had no preconceptions of human beauty, everyone had learned that lesson with the Grigori. Uriel was still complaining that he had to lead the clean up effort for the Nephilim. He could never have forgiven their brothers for finding humans attractive.

But objectively, Gabriel knew that his sister’s current vessel was beautiful. Strong too. Raguel had always chosen soldiers whenever forced down on a mission.

Gabriel sighed. The longer he spent with the humans, the more of their habits he picked up.

“What’s his name?” Raguel straightened up, standing at Gabriel’s back once more, watchful and aware. The protector. The guardian.

“Yeshu,” Gabriel smiled at the infant, giving him one last tickle under a chubby cheek before he straightened up, “the Deliverer.”
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