SPN Fic: The Path We Choose- (10/?)
Thursday, May 24th, 2012 10:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tenoko1Title: The Path We Choose
Author: Tenoko1
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Takes place after Season five with references through Season seven
Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Sarah, slight Cas/Meg
Disclaimer: Do not own
Summary: Several months after Sam jumps into the pit, taking Michael with him, Dean is trying to move on with his life, happenstance causing him to stumble over the newly released Supernatural novels which foretell what has not happened yet. Trying to avert the war in Heaven and everything in his life falling apart again, Dean sets out to change destiny, determined that they’ll make the future of their choosing. He should know things are never that simple.
Notes: Comments are much love.
Podfic Master Post
One l Two l Three l Four l Five l Six l Seven l Eight l Nine
Chapter Ten
“Oh look,” drawled Dean as he and Cas entered the kitchen. Meg and Crowley both glanced up curiously from their opposite corners of the room. Sam and Bobby appeared to be trying their best to ignore their existence. “My favorite demons in one room together.” He glanced around as though looking for something. “What? No bloodshed between you yet? Tsk. Tsk.”
Meg rolled her eyes. Cas moved to stand by Dean’s side. “It is most out of character of them,” he agreed.
The hunter nodded. “Angel boy has a point. For the sake of sanity and lack of an identity crisis later on, I highly suggest the two of you fight to the death-“
“Somewhere other,” interjected Bobby gruffly.
“-somewhere not in this house, or even this state, truth be told. This is a rare opportunity the two of you have been offered. You should really take advantage of it. We’ll be just fine without you.”
“We’ve got a celebratory keg waiting to be cracked open,” added Sam, not looking up from where he sat on the couch with a massive book, “in the event of your deaths.” He glanced up. “My goal is to not even remember most of my celebrating.”
“So a keg for you and another for me then, huh, little brother?” Dean asked, grinning.
“In the sake of fairness,” began Cas, nudging him gently so that the hunter met his gaze, “We should all have our own keg.” He smirked, blue eyes actually playful as they swept over to where Bobby was. “Unless, of course, Bobby feels he is not up to the challenge.”
The old hunter glared and waved him off. “I am not having a drinking contest against an angel. Just gimme a twelve-pack and put me to bed.”
“While this enlightening conversation is life changing to witness,” snarled Meg, daring take her eyes off of Crowley only long enough to glare at Dean and Castiel, “We do have more pressing matters at hand, boys.”
“How do they even keep getting in the house?” wondered Dean, completely ignoring her.
“We’ve been trapped in one or another devil trap in this house so often, we know where it’s safe to stand without getting caught,” offered Crowley.
Dean pointed purposefully at his brother. “You hear that? Weekend project. Demon proof every inch of the house.” He crossed his arms with a shudder. “God only knows what disgusting creatures can just come and go as they please.” Meg scoffed and rolled her eyes again. “Speaking of, what brings you here when you just ‘poofed’ out, Crowley? Excellent timing to show when Lucifer’s number one fangirl is present as well.”
Taking a drink from his scotch glass, the King of Hell shook his head. “Oh no, not timing.” His eyes slid over to the demon opposite him, a grin stretching slowly across his mouth. “I went to get her and brought her with me, didn’t I, dearest?”
Brows raised in surprise, Dean let his gaze flick to the demoness shifting uncomfortably. “Did he now? Thought you were in hiding didn’t you, clever little bitch that you are?” She flipped him off; he scrunched his nose and shook his head. “Sorry, don’t like you that much. I do have some standards, you know.” His gaze flicked at his brother who was giving him a warning ‘don’t even go there look’, but seriously, how was he to resist when material presented itself like that? He was Dean Winchester, after all. “What about you, Sammy? Demons are more your thing, right?”
The younger Winchester shot him an annoyed look, even while an amused smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”
Scoffing, Dean rolled his eyes. “You dated a demon, dude. One who was wearing a corpse. I don’t ever wanna hear about my taste in chicks ever again.”
“Especially now that you seem to be showing a preference in dick,” she snapped.
Dean shot her on principle. She looked down at her chest indignantly, then glared furiously at the hunter still holding the gun. He tucked it back in the waistband of his pants.
“Watch your mouth, bitch.” Insulting him was one thing, but nobody talked about his family or friends like that and got away with it.
Crowley chuckled into his drink. “Saw that coming.”
Humor vanished, Dean moved to lean against the doorframe that connected the two rooms. Castiel moved to take a seat on the edge of the kitchen table, making certain everyone was in front of him. “Seriously,” began Dean, “why are ya’ll here?”
“For the sake of mutual interest,” supplied the other man. “I need the world kept in the same condition it’s in, you understand, for the sake of continuing business.” He nodded to the female in the room. “She’s crafty. If she can prove useful, I can tolerate her existence long enough to see the world saved once again. If not?” He shrugged and left the question unanswered.
Dean noted the way Meg swallowed and tightened the arms crossed protectively over her chest. He glanced back at the other man, wondering what had happened that had her so scared of him. Not that Dean trusted him any further than he could throw him, but the demon had never made Dean shake in his boots the way he did the other demons, so clearly, there were details about his rule the Winchesters were far from aware of.
His gaze flicked back to Meg. Not that she could be tortured into fearing someone. Girl got off on getting tortured as well as torturing someone. Trying to imagine what might scare her, scared him.
“The increase in numbers is to our advantage, boys,” drawled Crowley, causing everyone to glance at him again. “This mess with Purgatory… well, it’s best resolved quickly. I’m willing to cut a deal with even my enemies for their cooperation on this one task. A contract.”
“Demons don’t make deals with other demons,” stated Sam with a frown, yet intrigued.
“Don’t doesn’t mean ‘can’t’,” argued Crowley, smirking at Meg. “I am here to cooperate. She will as well, whether she wants to or not. Now,” he smiled at Dean, “let’s all be friends, shall we?”
--
Sighing, Dean balanced the ringing phone on his knee and settled back into the couch while waiting for the person to answer on the other end.
He’d let his head fall back and wiped a hand over his eyes when Becky finally did answer. “Hello?”
“Becky? Dean.” He sighed. “I’m guessing you’ve had enough time to get fully organized over there. Need your help. We’re going to need allies soon, are there any characters in the books after Swan Song that are in Chuck’s notes as being actual people?”
He heard her shuffling around, drawers being pulled open and files thumbed through. “Plenty. What are you looking for? Humans, hunters, psychics, angels, prophets, or monsters?”
Sam’s eyebrows went up in surprise as he regarded the phone. Dean said, “I need allies, Becky. I don’t care what they are.”
“Wall to Purgatory breaking down already then?”
“I really am going to have to read those books,” stated Sam with a shake of his head.
Glaring at him, Dean shook his head. “No, you really don’t want to. It would be traumatic. And inaccurate.” The elder brother glanced down at the phone as Castiel shifted closer, regarding it curiously. “A head’s up on the coming apocalypse would have been helpful, Becky. I don’t need a play-by-play for everyday life, but seriously. World being thrown in danger? You warn a person.”
“You never warn me,” she argued distractedly, more papers shuffling. “But being a civvie, I guess doesn’t earn me the right to such knowledge. Ignorance is bliss, I suppose. Okay, let’s see. Angels would probably be the most helpful. There’s Gabriel-“
“Gabriel is dead,” Sam stated. “We need allies still among the living, Becky.”
“Gabriel is MIA,” she argued.
All three hunters looked at Castiel, who was shaking his head. “You are misinformed, Becky. Gabriel is dead.”
“Oh hi, Cas!” she chirped. “I didn’t know you were there for this conference call.”
“Hello. And, yes, I am.”
“Hate to break it to you, but Gabriel isn’t dead,” she continued. “MIA, per God. If it makes you feel better, it wasn’t his idea. He didn’t know about it. When he was on the brink of death, God threw him somewhere safe until a time came when he might be needed.”
“Where?” they all asked in unison.
“File doesn’t say. I read you everything on the subject. There’s also Balthazar.”
“Balthazar exist?” squawked Dean, sitting up straighter and remembering the angel that Dean was actually really grateful had never gone dark side. Or joined forces with Gabriel. They could have taken over the world if they did.
Cas gave him a startled look, then shifted that confused expression to the phone. “Balthazar is also dead.”
Dean waved him off. “Yeah, and you mourned his death because he was your friend. If he’s real and not fictional, then homeboy is deep in hiding and faked his own death. Right, Becky?”
“Point for the Winchester,” she agreed. “Though his going into hiding was not for the selfish reasons the books portrayed. It was on orders from God.”
“I-I don’t understand,” Cas said finally, shaking his head.
“Well, it went something like this,” a voice offered. They all turned in surprise to see Balthazar stretched across the threadbare couch, examining the nails on one hand while holding a glass of wine in the other. “I was secretly in special ops, after a particular mission in which case I was the only survivor, Dad sent me deep, deep under cover until he needed me again. I had worked from the shadows, and then I needed to no longer exist for the sake of safety.” He lifted his gaze to smile at his stunned friend, looking a tad sheepish and fond all in one. “Hello, Cassie. It’s good to see you again.”
“Hi, Balth!”
The angel’s gaze flicked the phone balanced on Dean’s knee. “Hello, Becky. How are you, dear?”
“Whoa!” barked Sam, pushing himself to his feet indignantly. Bobby continued to keep his mouth shut, sitting back to watch it all unfold with a disapproving expression. “You know each other?”
“Nope,” she stated.
“What she said,” agreed the angel. “But I know of her, each of you, and the people in connection to each of you.”
“Becky, how much of those stupid books is true?” demanded Dean.
“Not enough to be considered accurate,” she supplied. “Everything was taken out of context, really. People are real. Places. Just the majority of what happens is BS or inaccurate.”
Balthazar rose gracefully to his feet as the other angel crossed the room to confront him. Dean fought the urge to rise to his feet, green eyes nervously glancing between the angelic beings. Cas looked calm on the exterior, but through their link, Dean could feel the onslaught of conflicting emotions. His friend was awed, confused, hurt, angry, thrilled, relieved, and distrustful.
“I mourned your death, Balthazar,” stated Cas softly. The other angel looked down guiltily. “You were my friend, not just my brother. You took me under your wing and taught me so much; you made me a better soldier, a better angel. I grieved for you.”
The older man’s gaze flicked up to meet his. “I know, friend. I so hated to put you through that, but… well, orders are orders, Cassie. As much as it hurt me to inflict that pain on you, to let you know the truth would have only endangered you. You were not prepared to defend yourself against such a threat.”
“And now?”
The other angel sucked in a deep breath, glass disappearing with a flourish of his hand as he spun away. “Ah, yes, now. Well, Dad called me back on the playing field, obviously. I knew he’d only bother if it were for something truly worrisome, but this…” He sighed and shook his head.
“What?” demanded Dean. “When the angels were attempting their apocalypse, that wasn’t enough for God to man the troupes and put a stop to it? He waits till the wall to Purgatory is about to blow before he sends in someone to stop it?”
An amused, condescending look passed over Balthazar’s face as he turned, hand on narrow hips. “Oh, you have it wrong. I’m not here to help with the wall.”
“You’re not going to help?”
The other man shook his head. “No, I’m not. I don’t get involved unless ordered, and if you think I ought to because it’s the right thing or… whatever, well then you have me confused with that other angel. Y’know, the one in the dirty trench coat who’s in love with you.” Dean blinked with a start at the familiar words. Okay, clearly there was a list of quotes or something Chuck had at least written down that the freelance writers had all pulled from. “Speaking of,” Balthazar’s gaze flicked over to the other angel, disregarding Dean as the hunter and his brother exchanged disbelieving and incredulous looks, “Cassie, what on our Father’s green earth are you wearing? It’s awful! Your vessel has no taste in clothing. Why haven’t you remedied it? And that coat!”
“I like this coat,” growled Cas, looking none too amused.
“I should probably say ‘good-bye’ now, Dean, while I still have a chance,” voiced Becky through the phone. “Call me first chance you get later on, okay?”
He frowned at the phone. “Wha-? Yeah, okay, bye, Becks.” He said the nickname without thinking, only realizing it when he her heard gasp in surprise just as the phone clicked off. Whatever. He stood angrily to his feet. “What do you mean you aren’t here to help?”
The angel snapped his fingers and a series of duffel bags appeared on the couch- their duffel bags- and he began rummaging through them. Sam’s bag of clothes. Weapons. Dean’s bag.
“Good, good,” he was saying. “Well, see, I’m here on orders, obviously, or else I wouldn’t be here at all.” He straightened and snapped his fingers and the weapons bag vanished. “That will probably only get you in trouble. Cassie, I don’t suppose you have a bag do you? No, I didn’t think so. You’ll have to make due then. See, I’m not here to help with the wall, I’m here on damage control and protection detail for another angle Dad has decided to work.” He tossed each of the Winchester’s their bags as easily as they were empty. “Hold onto those, will you? Sam, go stand by Castiel for a moment. Dean, you too.”
“Protection detail?” echoed Dean, moving to stand next to Cas, as his brother did the same, all wearing matching expressions of confusion. “Protection for who?”
“Ah, for whom,” Balthazar corrected as he moved over to the desk, shooing Bobby out of his way. With a snap of his fingers, an arrangement of ingredients and bowls appeared in front of him. “That is proof of your fine education, though, I suppose. What with high school and years of further educa-“ He faltered, looking up at Dean in surprise. “Oh, no I guess it wouldn’t be considering you couldn’t even make it through basic schooling.” He flashed a smile and went back to work. “See, my father plans on releasing my brothers, Michael and Lucifer-“ He looked up again, frowning. “I believe you met them, right?” He busied himself with ingredients and bowls once more, mixing, grinding, and pouring at a rapid pace. “Well, he plans on releasing them from the cage they are currently locked in-“
“He what?!” they all demanded, horrified, afraid, panicked.
Balthazar looked up with raised brows, pointing at them. “See? That was my reaction.” He went back to work, disregarding their panicked expressions. “Actually, it was all the angels’ assigned reactions. Dad assures us he knows exactly what he’s doing and that it’ll be alright. Me, well, he’ll have to forgive me if I’m still a little apprehensive, which is why we’re moving the three of you to a safe house. You’ll be hidden and protected there if something goes wrong.”
“If you release Lucifer and Michael ain’t nobody safe!” growled Dean.
“Which is why- as a precautionary measure, in the event this doesn’t go as smoothly as planned- we are sending you a distance away to Savannah,” he assured them, rounding the desk with bowl in hand. Sam and Dean were giving each other panicked looks. It didn’t matter where on the planet they were; if Michael and Lucifer got free, the first thing they would do would be to seek out their true vessels. Balthazar stopped when he got to them, pushing Sam a little closer where Cas stood, then depositing the powder he’d made in a circle around them. “When you get there, her door is the one on bottom. She won’t trust you at first, but remind her of her calling to take up banner and sword for others and she should take you in. If not, you’ll have to convince her; I don’t envy you that at all.” Standing back, he regarded his handiwork with a series of nods, while they looked at the orange-pink circle around them warily. “Cassie.” The angel looked up at the sound of his nickname, finding his friend regarding him seriously, but also with a touch of remorse, making all of them increasingly worried. “If it comes down to it: leave them and save yourself.”
Dean felt the angel straighten indignantly. He brushed a hand against the angel’s, just a bare touching of his knuckles to the back of the other man’s hand reassuringly. Part of him had wanted to take the angel’s hand and give it a reassuring squeeze, God only knew why, because it wasn’t an action he was accustomed to, but oh did he want to.
“I will do no such thing,” stated Cas, not nearly as bristled as he’d initially been. Dean could feel his silent assurances that he was okay, for Dean not to worry, topped with more assurances that backed his words.
Sighing, Balthazar gave him a pitying look. “Then make sure the three of you stay safe. Now go.”
Dean frowned, baffled. “Go? Go where?”
The angel sucked in a deep breath and suddenly insight came on Dean like being hit by a train. He swore. It must have been out loud because Cas and Sam both looked at him in question, but there was no time to react or even say anything because Balthazar had placed his heels together down by his side and then shoved them forward, palms toward the trio as he was yelling that one word at them and an invisible force was sending all three of them flying backwards, head over heels, but rather than crashing into the table and cabinets in Bobby’s kitchen, they were suddenly outside, landing painfully hard and sliding on gravel and rock.
Sam laying coughing on his side, then groaning as he tried to pushing himself up with one hand. A rock with a sharp corner dug painfully into Dean’s back and he wondered how hard his hit his head in landing to make the sky and trees overhead spin and sway like they were. Then Cas’s worried face filled his vision, asking him if he was okay and if he could move.
Then Dean was up in a panic, not even bothering to check himself for injuries as he took in their surroundings, thrown by the unexpectedness of it. This… wasn’t what he’d thought they’d find. They were behind a building with peeling paint, what looked like a house actually, except for the stairs leading to the second floor and two separate doors. It had to have once been a house. He spun around wildly, looking. What was the parking lot would have once been a back yard just the right size. There were houses on either side of the fence, and even backing up to the property was another yard, the driveway off to the side leading toward the street.
“Dean,” Cas called softly, looking around for a threat. “What is it?”
Sam looked around wonderingly. “Where are we?”
“Nowhere I was expecting,” he admitted. It was hot here, for one. Humid. The sky was perfect blue overhead where it could be seen through the canopy of trees, a couple of southern oaks and a magnolia were the only trees he could identify. “Cas?”
The angel shook his head. “We are still in the United States, if that is what you are asking. I have never been here myself. It…” He glanced around. “It feels… somehow different.”
Picking up and dusting off their bags, Sam held out his brother’s. “Well… should we go find, er, Savannah?” His eyes flicked to each of their faces. They both shook their heads. Hell, for all they knew Savannah was where they were, not who they were looking for. Those eyes moved past them to the building.
Dean followed the movement, glancing back and forth between the two bottom doors. “Well, he said her’s was on bottom.” He glanced at the gravel parking lot. Four doors, three cars, two doors on the bottom floor. He turned back, wondering if she was even home. Both Cas and Sam pointed simultaneously to the same apartment door. Dean frowned. “What makes you pick that one?”
“The wind chime has sunflowers and there’s a large potted gardenia, plus the framed stained glass art hanging in the window. Chances are, a girl lives in that one,” deduced Sam.
Castiel simply shrugged. “The aura radiating from that house is special. It actually resonates. There is nothing coming from the other dwellings.”
“She could be into Hoo-doo for all we know,” argued Dean. “The radiating aura could be from bad juju!” They both gave him different looks of incredulousness and impatience, causing him to sigh and shoulder his bag, turning back toward the house. “Mystery door number one it is then.”
They followed in a line around the stairs and then up onto her back porch, Sam and Dean glancing at each other as to who would have to knock, Sam rolling his eyes and raising his fist to do it-
Just as the door flew wide open and a blonde with tanned skin looked out at them in surprise, brown eyes flicking to each of their faces in shock.
“Oh,” she sighed. “Epically bad timing is epically bad.” There was a bluehill dog looking out at them from just behind her. They all glanced uncertainly at each other, not sure what to make of her words. Taking a deep breath, she straightened, keeping one hand on the door, the other adjusting the shoulder bag she carried, clearly having been caught dashing out the door. “Okay, I’ll bite: how can I help you?”
Dean let his gaze roam over her. Early twenties, straight blonde hair so light he’d have dared call it white, deep golden brown skin from many hours in the sun, sun freckles across her shoulders as further proof. She wore a tank top and khaki shorts with flip flops, and was maybe a hundred and twenty pounds. There was no way he was going to feel safe if this was the supposed safe house. Her toe nails were painted black and she wore a silver anklet of dolphins for crying out loud.
Clearing his throat, Sam tried to school his features into something more politely confused and inquiring. “Um, hi. Sorry if we caught you at a bad time. Uh, are you Savannah?”
She arched a brow, absently reaching down to pet the dog’s head as it moved to lean against her leg. “Savvy.” Sam frowned in confusion and the corner of her mouth twitched up in amusement even while she continued to eye them all suspiciously. She had a hard look to her face when she was distrustful; it made Dean think she might not be as soft as he originally took her for. “No one calls me Savannah. My name is ‘Sav’ or ‘Savvy’.”
“Oh. Uh, o-okay. Savvy,” Sam repeated, trying it for himself. She gave a single nod. He continued, motioning to both the men with him. “Um, look, we were sent here and told you could help us, t-that you, uh…”
He looked at his brother at a loss while she looked no closer to opening her door to them or even having been expecting them. Dean shifted closer on the small back porch. “We were told your place was a safe house and that we needed to lie low here for a while. We didn’t come here voluntarily.”
At that point, Dean was seriously wondering if they had the wrong place because she so clearly did not trust any of them, and no, she was not expecting them nor happy to see them. Her narrowed, distrustful gaze flicked to each of their face, her jaw jutted to the side and mouth pursed as she clearly gauged the situation.
Finally, she demanded, “Am I being punked?”
“Wha-?”
“Because if I am, let me tell you, it’s not funny. Cruel jokes like that are never funny, and pulling a stunt like that on me will not end well, because I don’t have the good graces for that foolishness. I just get royally pissed off. So before we continue this dog and pony show, lemme give you the chance to shoot straight with me, because if you are punking me, I swear to God, I will personally ruin each of your careers, are we clear?”
Dean had barely understood a word she said, but even still, he suddenly feared her a little bit. It was like he’d done something seriously wrong and all the wrath of hell was about to be unleashed by this slip of a girl, and he didn’t have the slightest clue how to correct whatever mistake he’d made.
Cas clearly had no idea what she’d even just said either, and continued to watch with the intrigued, head angled to the side confused look he did when he didn’t understand something. Seeking backup and support, Sam glanced at his brother who just shook his head and shrugged at a loss, earning a scowl from the taller Winchester. The younger sibling turned back to the girl.
“Um, no, you aren’t being punked. I’m Sam. Sam Winchester. This is my brother Dean and-“
“I know who you are,” she interrupted, still glaring. “I just don’t know why you’re here other than to attempt making a fool of one girl you really ought not to.”
They all shared a look again, each at a loss, before Sam turned back to her beseechingly. “We were told you could help us, and to remind you of your calling to take up banner and sword for the sake of others.” Anger was replaced with slack-jawed surprise, brows shooting up. Bravely, Sam ventured, “We were also told that if you still don’t believe us, we’d have to convince you some other way, but I don’t know how, so anything that might convince you…”
She stepped aside, entire demeanor suddenly softer, even puzzled. “Come in,” she invited, before snapping her fingers at the dog and pointing further into the apartment. “Harley, go lay down.”
The dog did as instructed as they filed into her small kitchen and then to stand awkwardly in her dining room. Her room and bathroom were off of that, with the living room still further in. She shut the door behind her, arms folded as she regarded them in confusion, before finally shaking her head and throwing up a hand. “I’m sorry. Please explain to me again why you’re here?”
“Basically,” Cas stated, “we were told you could protect us and offer us sanctuary.”
She made a noise, a mix between a scoff and a laugh. “Me?” She did laugh, this time in disbelief, the sound dying off as each of them nodded. She seemed just as confused as they were.“I’m sorry. What problem could possibly exist that the Winchesters and an Angel of the Lord can’t handle, yet ya’ll think I’d somehow be of help?”
“You do know who we are,” Sam stated in surprise. She frowned, brows drawing together in confusion as to why this surprised him. “But you weren’t expecting us.” She shook her head with another snort of laughter. “Are you a prophet?”
This time, she did laugh, a smile on her lips. “Most definitely not.”
“Well, then, you’ve read the books,” Dean surmised.
Her brown eyes shifted to him, ascertaining again, as if wondering once more if they were playing some sort of prank on her. “No… No, I haven’t.”
Now all four of them were looking at each other in confusion, the three of them versus her, both parties apparently equally confused by the other.
“How is it that you know who we are then,” asked Castiel.
Her gaze met his, holding for a long moment before shifting uncertainly to each of the brothers. “Because I watch the show.”
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Date: 2012-05-25 08:23 am (UTC)This is hilarious! I like Savvy. Are they goint to see more of the show and crew? I hope so...
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Date: 2012-05-25 01:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-26 11:48 pm (UTC)Your character voices are spot on! I love this version of events more than canon, for obvious reasons;) This is just so awesome! I can't wait to read more:D
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Date: 2012-05-26 11:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-27 01:01 am (UTC)I friended you so I could keep track:D
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Date: 2012-05-29 07:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-29 08:31 pm (UTC)