moragmacpherson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
moragmacpherson) wrote2008-03-28 07:10 am
moragmacpherson) wrote2008-03-28 07:10 am
Entry tags:
- buffy,
- dead letters,
- fic,
- gen,
- spike-centric,
- spn,
- xover
Fic: Dead Letters (5/??) (BtVS/SPN)
Title: Dead Letters (BtVS/Supernatural crossover) (5/??)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
moragmacpherson
Rating: PG-13
Content: Swearing, drinking, smoking, action, angst, humor, non-graphic depiction of torture, mention of sexual situations
Timeline: Post-Chosen for BtVS (and goes AU pre-Conviction for A:tS), goes AU post-Family Remains for Supernatural.
Disclaimer: BtVS is the property of Joss Whedon and the Fox Corporation; Supernatural goes to Kripke and the CW.
Archive: Here and TtH. If you'd like it, let me know.
Author's Notes: Un-beta'd
Summary: Sometimes packages can't be delivered. The likelihood of this increases if the package slips into the wrong dimension.
Chapter Notes: Takes place during On the Head of a Pin.
Spike really despised the sound of Alistair’s laugh, but that wasn’t stopping the demon. “Why? What’s your interest in angels?” Alistair took his time enunciating that last word.
“The fact that anything related to that word seems to exist in order to irritate me, for starters. Then again, you irritate me too.” Spike looked upwards, towards the heavens for a moment. “Things that don’t bug me will make it out of this whole ordeal in much better shape than things that do.” He took a long drag, blowing the smoke towards the demon when he finished.
Alistair looked at him through heavy lidded eyes. “You don’t seem so scary to me.”
Spike allowed a brief smile to cross his face. “I don’t, do I? But then, you remember, that I’m a little bit of the unknown, crossing into your world.” Spike stood and started walking around the circle. “Con-men – grifters, we called them back in the day, well, they liked to think they knew all the angles. Add just a dash of the unknown, and they’d have to back right off the con. Too risky. Better to wait and find another set of suckers than to risk the unknown element.” Spike completed the circle and laid his hands on the side of the cart. “But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Alistair?”
Alistair sniffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Spike laughed. “But isn’t that what I just said?” He finished the cigarette and ground out the butt underneath his foot. “So, instead, I’d like to ask you what you know about angels. In particular, I’m wondering if you know how to kill the miserable bastards.”
Alistair’s lips thinned and he glanced at the door. “Any particular reason you’d like to kill your current allies?”
“Who said I was their ally?”
Alistair inclined his head towards Spike. “Well, you are on the other side of that circle, armed with that, ah, nasty looking cart.”
“Mmm, that’s true.” Spike pulled the tarp off the cart and began digging around in it. For whatever reason, a large bottle of Jim Beam was on the bottom level: must have been from Castiel in order to steel Dean’s resolve. Spike wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He opened the bottle and took a good, long swig from it. He looked at Alistair, who was staring at him, then took another long drink. “Bourbon,” mused Spike. “It’s one of the few things these Yanks got right. Do you-” Spike tilted the bottle towards Alistair, but then withdrew it.
“You’d have to cross into this devil’s trap, which I notice you’ve been ever so very careful not to do,” said Alistair.
Spike nodded and took another drink. “Bloody rules. Haven’t sussed them out yet, you see.” He lit another cigarette. “Damned Winchesters and their bloody salt circles. Where I’m from, the demons would be using the stuff to season the boys’ entrails, but that shit does seem to do the trick in these parts. I’m just not willing to risk it, mate, not yet, sorry.”
“And where are you from, exactly?”
Spike turned to face Alistair directly. “I do believe I’m the one not currently chained to a religious symbol, so I’ll be asking the questions, thank you ever so very much.” Alistair looked away. “You’re waging this war, breaking all of these seals, all to free the devil, and that’s great. Everyone needs to have a hobby. Where do you find out about those seals?”
Alistair shifted under his bonds. “It is written, if you know where to look.”
Spike waved the cigarette. “Right, right, probably a bad idea to leave the manual for ending the world lying open on the coffee table. How long’s this little war been going on, anyway?” said Spike around the butt of the cigarette, his hands busy assembling something on the cart.
“Long as any of us can remember,” said Alistair. He couldn’t quite make out what Spike was doing.
Spike looked back at him and stepped away from the cart. “Half the pleasure’s in the anticipation,” said Spike.
“Not much you can do, standing out there.”
Spike laughed. “And Dean said that you were creative, down in the Pit. Lad doesn’t have much imagination himself, I’ll grant you. Loyal little soldier boy, that’s our Dean.” Spike finished his cigarette. “Said you were the head of the torture division down there.” Alistair looked down, saying nothing. “He’s not half bad a detective though: he was right about that. What did he do, to earn your special attention?” Alistair gave no visible response. “Sam couldn’t deal his brother’s way out, and the way he looked at you, back at the funeral home, that’s a very special sort of hatred. You must have worked him over hard. And I admit, I’ve been getting my kicks needling the pup for weeks now, but I don’t have an agenda. You definitely do.” Spike lifted a thin tube to his lips and blew through it. A needle pierced Alistair’s arm and he shouted in shock. “That holy water is nasty stuff, isn’t it? Why did Dean matter so much?”
Alistair glared at Spike. “And it is written, that a righteous man shall spill blood in hell, and the first seal will be broken.”
Spike smiled. “That was easy. Of course, you sort of wanted to tell me that. Figure it’ll lower my opinion of the boy, which is funny considering how I already think of the brat.” Spike chuckled and blew two more darts at Alistair. “This is kind of fun.”
Alistair glowered. “I rather think you’re missing the point of torture for interrogation. You ask a question first, then you fire the dart when I don’t answer.”
A noise caught Spike’s attention and he walked over to the side of the circle. Alistair couldn’t see what he did from there, but he heard the sound of metal scraping against metal. “I’m afraid you’ve misread my intentions, pet. It’s the angels out there who want me to interrogate you – well, actually, what they really wanted was for Dean to be doing it, which I’m sure would have been loads of laughs for all of us.” Spike pushed the cart forward so that it straddled the devil’s trap. “Problem with that is that I’m reasonably certain you don’t know a damn thing about the question.” Spike licked his lips. “Hard man like you, likes the violence, hates those winged pillocks – if you had any idea about how to kill angels you’d’ve had time for nothing else in your day.” Alistair’s eyes widened at this and Spike smirked at having his guess confirmed. “But they sent me in here nonetheless. At least one of ‘em knows exactly how much nothing you know, so I’ve got to put on a good show. And when you get back down to the Pit, you can tell them all about dear ol’ Spike, who likes these humans and all the entertainment they provide, and doesn’t take kindly to the folk who hate the game so much they’d rather smash the board.” Spike grabbed a silver spike off the cart. “That is, if you ever make it back down there.” Exhaling, Spike hopped into the circle then took a quick step out. “Hey, look at that. Guess I’m not as much like you as you’d hoped. All that caution for nothing.” He strode forward and cupped Alistair’s stubbled chin in his hand. “For this part, though, I’m gonna need you to scream.” He buried the spike in the joint of Alistair’s left shoulder and the demon howled in pain. “Much obliged.”
~*~
Castiel had spent some time in hell, working his way through to rescue Dean. He remembered all too well the shrieks and screams of agony that were hell’s auditory wallpaper. The wailing of the damned haunted him when he wasn’t thinking directly of his orders; fortunately, most of the time he concentrated on his Father’s Will and he didn’t have to think about them.
Another unearthly howl came from the other side of the door. The noise sounded different when he heard it through human ears, and Castiel could feel his body’s urge to cover his ears or simply to flinch. Castiel ignored these reflexes, content that the entity making the noises had been the one causing so many of the screams he’d heard in hell. The blood flowing through the host’s veins wasn’t actually any colder, no matter how it felt.
Uriel hadn’t been part of the raid on hell. His body displayed no reaction to the screams of pain that had become near constant these last fifteen minutes. “The creature Spike was not lying about his abilities,” said Uriel.
“No,” said Castiel, “it appears not.”
Uriel stepped closer. “Do you believe what he said about our Father?”
Curses about their Father were being shouted loudly on the other side of the door. “Can you argue with the grace present in the amulet? Spike was touched by our Father, whether he saw Him or not.”
Uriel grimaced. “Why would our Father allow an entity that unclean into His Presence?”
“If you will recall, the Son had some interest in the unclean as well. ‘Do not call anything impure that God has made clean,’” quoted Castiel.
“We are not speaking here of tax collectors, whores, or shellfish; we are speaking of a malevolent force foreign to our world, foreign to heaven, hardly discernible from that which we know is demonic.” Another roaring howl interrupted their conversation. Uriel turned away from Castiel. “I find myself troubled by these developments. I shall seek revelation.” With a flutter of wings, Uriel disappeared.
Castiel was honest with himself: he too was troubled by these developments. But the creature Spike had prevented Dean from suffering; that had to count for something. And despite the quasi-demonic stain that permeated every fiber of Spike’s being – Castiel had been unable to expel it when he recreated Spike’s body – there was a soul behind those blue eyes. The nature of that soul was all but inscrutable, save for an overwhelming sense of determination. Exactly what the soul was determined to do, however, remained unclear to Castiel.
Castiel lost himself in thought for quite a long time, until the screaming ceased for a few seconds, and the metal door swung open, slamming shut behind Spike who had a lit cigarette dangling from his lips and blood covering his hands. “My pal Alistair needs a little time to collect his thoughts. Know where a bloke could get a quick wash-up, Peaches?”
Castiel pointed to a basin in the corner of the room. “Why do you call me Peaches?”
Spike laughed as he turned on the spigot. “‘Cause of your lovely complexion, mate. Funny thing, them keeping the water turned on in an abandoned slaughterhouse like this. Works out just fine for me, mind you.” Spike turned the water off and wiped his hands off on his pants. “Where’s your grumpy friend?”
“Uriel has gone to seek revelation,” said Castiel. “How goes the interrogation?”
Spike’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, just dandy. So we’re here all by our lonesomes?”
Castiel inclined his head. “That is correct.”
“You’re Cas then. Dean talks about you some. And you’re the one drew all those doodles on the floor in chalk?” Spike flecked some ash away.
“Yes,” said Castiel. “They are the strongest Solomon keys in existence.” Spike was staring Castiel down, but that didn’t bother the angel. He simply stared back. After a few seconds Spike relented, or perhaps he had seen what he was looking for. “Has the demon revealed anything about how they are killing my brethren?”
“Some.” There was that stare again. “But in order to know whether he’s telling me lies, I just wanted to ask you: do you know how to kill an angel?”
Castiel blinked. “As I said before, I know of no method available to a demon, no.”
“But you know of ways available to…” Spike tilted his head, but Castiel remained silent. “Interesting.” He dropped the cigarette butt in the basin, wiping his hands together. “Well, I’d better get back to work then. Cheers, Cas.” Spike opened the door again, making Alistair’s hoarse moans audible for a few moments before the door shut, leaving Castiel alone with his thoughts. Castiel would not refer to them as doubts.
~*~
A small weight pressed down on the end of the bed. As comforting as the darkness behind his eyelids was, Dean opened his eyes, his hand automatically reaching for the pistol underneath his pillow. The gun was unnecessary, though, he realized as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. “Anna? Is this a dream?” Dean sat up against the headboard.
Anna shook her head. “No, Dean, I’m really here.”
“Found a vessel that looks just like your old body,” said Dean, remembering the feel of that body before shaking his head, wondering if that counted as some kind of special blasphemy.
Anna smiled as she watched the train of thought roll through Dean’s head. “I called in a few favors, got my body back.”
“Looks good – you look good.” Dean wanted to slap himself, but he’d never had a one night-stand come back to haunt him quite like this before. At least he’d fallen asleep with all of his clothes on: facing Anna half-naked would have been way more than he could ask for his brain to process at this point.
“Thank you.”
“So, uh, what’s going on?” His eyes flickered over to the other bed, where his brother slept peacefully for once, an angel watching over him.
Anna pursed her lips. “I had heard some unpleasant rumors. I came here to prevent them from taking place, and was happy to find that I was misinformed. Figured while I was here I would say ‘hi’ to some old friends.”
Dean shifted his weight on the bed. “That’s cool. Those rumors have anything to do with Cas and Uriel showing up here tonight, asking me to go torture Alistair for them?”
Anna’s eyes darkened. “They did.” She turned to face Dean. “But you’re not with them. What happened?” Dean told Anna about how they’d found Spike, and how Spike had volunteered to take Dean’s place. As he finished, he remembered Spike’s last questions to them. “Anna, you don’t know anything about a list of seals, do you? I mean, it’s such an obvious question, but we’ve been so caught up in this whole thing, it never occurred to us to ask.”
Anna looked upward. “I was actually more attuned to the heavenly host while I was human, Dean. I’m in hiding, now. My brethren are hunting me even as we speak, and there are precious few of them whom I may trust. And even before, though I commanded a garrison, I was not among the ranks of those privileged with that kind of information. So I do not have such a list as you ask for, not at present.”
Dean leaned forward. “Could you get it, maybe?”
Anna nodded. “I will try. Even though I have my doubts, it pains me to watch this war, to see my brothers and sisters dying.”
“Not used to that sort of thing?” asked Dean. Anna’s bitten lips confirmed it. “Angels are hard to kill.”
“The last time so many died was in Lucifer’s rebellion. It was before I had experienced humanity, before I understood sorrow like I do now.” Anna’s eyes glimmered with the beginnings of tears.
Dean moved to sit on the edge of the bed beside her, daring to take the angel’s narrow shoulders in his hands. “So, the only thing you know of that’s ever killed angels in battle is other angels?”
The tears in Anna’s eyes dried out as she processed what Dean was saying. “Yes. Only other angels.” Their gazes met. “It can’t be-”
Dean stood. “It’s the only thing that makes any sense.” He grabbed his brother’s arm. “Sam, Sammy, wake up.”
“Wstfgl?”
“Wake up, get dressed, Anna’s gonna take us and the car to wherever Cas and Spike have disappeared off to.” Dean looked back at Anna. “You can do that, right?”
Anna stood too. “Yes, I know where they are – but what are you going to do?”
“Warn Cas.”
~*~
Blood-shot eyes looked up wearily at Spike while he wiped the blade of the knife clean. “Put on enough of a show yet, Spike?” Alistair muttered.
“That should about do it for now, mate.” Spike put the knife down on the cart. “But look at you, all covered in blood and gore like that. Let me clean you up a bit.” Spike took the remaining jug of holy water and poured it over the demon, smoke issuing from the battered flesh while Alistair screamed. “Stunned you still have the voice to make all that racket,” he said as he tossed the jug aside. He grabbed the bottle of Jim Beam and the duster off of its hook, slung it over his arm and headed for the door.
“When I get out of here, I will find you,” wheezed Alistair.
“Join the queue.” Spike exited to find Uriel had returned and looking ever so slightly surprised to see Spike. Spike headed over to the basin to wash up before donning his coat. The nearest exit was through the window about ten feet overhead, and there was a door in the far corner that looked to lead outside. For the time being, Spike decided to keep Castiel between him and the larger figure, and hoped to hell that he’d read Cas right earlier. “I’ve got what you need,” said Spike.
Castiel turned. “He has revealed how they are killing the angels?”
Spike took a long drink. “It’s amazing what you can find out when you show a man his own small intestine.”
Castiel blinked at this information but Uriel didn’t. “There were no unforeseen complications in your work,” said Uriel.
“Not a one.” Spike shrugged. “Told you I was good at this bit.”
“So how is he doing it?” asked Castiel.
“It’s an involved process, ‘s’got chanting in and a sword forged from the iron in the blood of a thousand sinners,” said Spike before taking another drink. “Really, quite ingenious. That bint Lilith’s behind it, but I suspected you already knew that.”
“We thought as much,” said Castiel. Uriel remained silent, but moved closer behind Castiel.
Spike nodded and looked around. “Well, you lot should probably get on with killing Lilith, then. You didn’t have me asking how to kill demons, so I presume you already know how to do that.”
The corners of Uriel’s mouth turned up. “We do, Spike.”
Castiel realized that Spike and Uriel were staring at each other as though he wasn’t even there. “Uriel, you must report this information to our garrison.”
Spike arched his eyebrows. “That’s right, Uriel, go spread the good word.”
“I would, except I think you are a liar and a blasphemy against creation,” said Uriel.
Spike snorted. “And what makes you say that?” He took a few steps to the left, keeping his eyes on the angels. Uriel looked primed to charge, but was distracted when the Winchester brothers ran in from the exit that Spike had been eyeing.
“Cas!” shouted Dean. “It’s a trap!” Castiel turned towards Sam and Dean, so he didn’t see what Spike saw: Uriel pulling something out of his jacket.
Not eager to find out what it was, Spike rushed him, pushing Castiel aside and getting a hole in his gut for the trouble. Spike fell to his knees as Uriel withdrew the blade. Sam and Dean stopped short, and Castiel simply stared at the sword in Uriel’s hand. “Feeling… a little, guilty… there?” gasped Spike. “I mean, are you worried Daddy’s going to find out what you’ve been up to?”
“What have you done, Uriel?” breathed Castiel.
“The existence of this abomination proves nothing!” raged Uriel, running Spike through once more. This time when he pulled the sword out Spike fell onto his back. To Castiel’s surprise Spike was laughing as bright red blood bubbled out of his lips. Sam reached Uriel first and tried to wrestle the sword away from Uriel and was thrown across the room. Dean got in a few good punches before Uriel slammed him to the ground. Uriel raised the sword again, this time over Dean, but finally Castiel reacted, grabbing Uriel’s wrist and pushing him back up into the wall.
“The only thing that can kill an angel is another angel,” rasped Dean as he got up to his feet.
Castiel looked up at Uriel’s eyes. “Why would you do such a thing?” He squeezed his brother’s wrists until the sword clattered to the ground.
“Lucifer was right,” said Uriel before he slammed his head into Castiel’s. Castiel stumbled backwards. “Our Father abandoned us long before he left this world.” Uriel reached for the sword but Castiel recovered and threw himself into Uriel. Together the angels tumbled across the floor. Uriel eventually rolled to the top and slammed his fist into Castiel’s face. “He loved these flawed mud men more than He ever loved us, His more perfect creations.” With a wave of his hand, Uriel swept Dean and Sam back off of their feet. “I had hoped to argue some sense into you, Castiel, but you feel for them even more than He did, don’t you?” Uriel knocked Castiel’s head into the cement three times before standing up. He looked over, but the sword was gone. “Wha-”
The sword through his throat stopped Uriel’s exclamation, and the last thing he heard was Anna’s voice. “You make that sound like a bad thing.” Uriel’s body fell to the floor and Anna closed her eyes. “It’s not, Castiel.”
Castiel pushed himself into a sitting position with his elbows. “Hello, Anna. Thank you for saving me.”
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Thank Dean: he’s the one who figured it out.”
Dean was levering himself back to his feet by the wall. “Not a problem. Couldn’t have done it without Spike.” Dean looked over, and Sam was already crouched over the stricken Spike. “Shit.”
Sam examined the damage. The two wounds in Spike’s stomach continued to bleed. “Spike, you don’t look so good,” said Sam. He pulled off his sweatshirt and pressed it against the wide gashes.
Spike spat a gob of blood to the side. “It’ll take more than that to kill the likes of me.” His eyes met Dean’s. “So long as the pillock didn’t ruin my coat.”
Anna and Castiel joined Dean in standing over Spike. “Heal him already, Cas. He got those holes keeping you from getting skewered from behind.”
Castiel shook his head. “My powers will not be effective here: he is not human.”
Anna stared down. “What is he?”
Sam looked up at them then looked down to avoid Dean’s eyes. “He’s a kind of vampire.”
“What?” Dean took a step back. “If he’s a vampire, shouldn’t he be fine? Uriel didn’t exactly take off his head.”
“I don’t know,” muttered Sam.
Anna raised the sword in her hand. “This is a holy relic. If he is a vampire, he may have difficulty healing from the wounds that it delivers.”
“Blood,” coughed Spike. “I haven’t fed in six years, that’s the real problem. We’re in a bloody slaughterhouse, find some swine blood or something.”
Sam looked around. “Looks like we’re in an abandoned slaughterhouse, Spike, not so much with the fresh blood here.” Sam considered his own arm before offering it. “Just take a little, you’ll be fine.”
Spike’s eyes flickered yellow and he sniffed before shaking his head. “Can’t. Not yours.”
Sam swallowed hard as he met Spike’s look. It was probably best not to risk mixing his own demon–tainted blood with Spike’s. Sam looked up. “Dean, it’s gonna have to be you.”
“What?” Dean’s eyes widened. “You want me to feed a vampire?”
“I’m sort of bleeding out here, Dean, and I did save your angel pal.” Spike smiled weakly. “That’s got to count for something, right?”
Dean pursed his lips. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” But he was kneeling down and pulling his knife out of his belt. “I feel any teeth or tongue on my arm and I will take your head off with this,” said Dean.
“You got it.” Spike lifted his head up and Dean made a shallow slice across his forearm. At the smell of the blood, Spike’s face changed, morphing into a lumpy form that really did look demonic. With one last second of hesitation, Dean allowed Spike to press his mouth over the cut. Vampires really did suck, and everyone watched in silent horrified fascination at the spectacle. After several long moments it was too much for Dean to take and he pulled his arm away. Spike let his head fall back, his face returning to normal.
Sam removed the bloodied shirt and found Spike’s wounds knitting themselves back together. “Nice trick you’ve got there,” he breathed.
Spike sat up. “It comes in handy every now and then.” He stood, offering Dean a hand up, which Dean didn’t take. Spike’s eyes flickered to the bloody knife in Dean’s other hand. “If you’re going to use that on me now, at the very least you’ll need to be standing up.” With a grunt, Dean accepted Spike’s assistance. “Thanks, Dean.” The two stepped away from each other, not quite willing to look the other in the eye.
Sam rose to his feet. “Is everyone okay?”
“I’m fine,” said Anna. She looked over at Castiel, who still had a far away stare. “Castiel, it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known that Uriel had fallen like that.”
Castiel looked over at her. “Why should I have not?” He lowered his head. “I have been blind to many things recently.” He looked at Dean, but found no answers in the other man’s face.
Spike cleared his throat. “Alistair’s still trapped in the other room. You should probably take care of that.”
Castiel ducked his head. “You are right.”
The others followed him into the next room, Sam and Dean’s eyes widening. “Oh my God,” said Sam, feeling vomit rise up in his throat. Alistair was covered in gore, and unless Sam was mistaken, missing an ear, two or three fingers, and several stretches of skin. Dean’s own stomach clenched at the sight, but it was one all too familiar from Hell.
“Gang’s all here,” wheezed Alistair. His gaze settled on Dean. “Fine company you keep these days. Didn’t even ask me any questions while he did all this.”
Spike grunted. “And I’m sure you stop torturing when you get the right answers in hell. What are you waiting for, Cas? Exorcise him and heal the host’s body.”
Alistair snorted. “Remember what I said, Spike.”
“Give my love to the Pit.”
Castiel looked at Spike with a hint of disgust in his eyes before raising his hand. He crossed into the Solomon’s key and pressed his fingers against the bloody brow. After chanting a few incantations, black smoke poured from the body’s orifices and sank back down to hell. Another incantation and Castiel felt the power of the heavenly host flow through him, healing the stricken form before him. Castiel granted the poor soul unconsciousness to shield him from these horrors.
Spike was the first to step forward and begin untying the man’s bonds. Anna waved a hand and the chains fell away. The man slumped over and Spike shouldered the body. He turned to face his companions, none of whom looked very pleased with him. Spike rolled his eyes. “All’s well that ends well, mates.” He marched toward the doors. “Let’s get this man somewhere he’ll be able to wake up in slightly less terror.” With that, Spike walked out the door.
Castiel looked at Anna. “You should go. Otherwise, I will have to report you.”
She nodded. “I’m taking the sword.” To Dean’s surprise, Castiel did not object, and with one last look at the Winchesters, Anna fluttered out of their lives.
Castiel turned away. “I must report to my garrison.”
“Are you sure you can trust them?” asked Sam. “I mean, if Uriel got to them…”
Castiel nodded. “I will report this to a higher authority. But it must be done quickly.” Then he too was gone.
Dean looked over at his brother. “You knew Spike was a vampire? A weird-ass, lumpy vampire.”
“Yeah,” Sam admitted.
“More fucking secrets.” Dean shook his head and headed out the door. Sam followed a few seconds later. Outside the abattoir, Spike was loading Alistair’s former host into the backseat of the Impala.
“You’ll get him someplace safe,” Spike asked Dean.
Dean nodded. “We can do that.”
“Good.” Spike turned away. “I have your number. If I find something out, I know how to reach you.”
“Wait!” called out Sam. “Where are you going?”
Spike sighed, lighting a cigarette. “I’ve got about forty-five minutes until dawn, and I’ve got to find someplace dark to wait it out. I can’t very well ride around in that car during daylight, and I don’t see Dean-o here letting me black out the windows on his baby.”
Dean pursed his lips. “You’re damn right about that.” He let his hand rest on the Impala’s roof, looking at the unhappy expression on Sam’s face. “Most of the hotels Sam and I stay at are pretty dark. I could use a rest, and I’ve got some unanswered questions. Just for today, you should come with us.”
Spike blinked. “You think?”
“Keep me thinking about it and I’ll start having second thoughts.” Dean opened the driver’s door. “And don't even think about smoking in the car.”
Spike looked at Sam, who shrugged and headed for the passenger’s side. “Okay then.” Dropping the cigarette, Spike got into the back seat. “Let’s go.”
Next
Author:
moragmacpherson Rating: PG-13
Content: Swearing, drinking, smoking, action, angst, humor, non-graphic depiction of torture, mention of sexual situations
Timeline: Post-Chosen for BtVS (and goes AU pre-Conviction for A:tS), goes AU post-Family Remains for Supernatural.
Disclaimer: BtVS is the property of Joss Whedon and the Fox Corporation; Supernatural goes to Kripke and the CW.
Archive: Here and TtH. If you'd like it, let me know.
Author's Notes: Un-beta'd
Summary: Sometimes packages can't be delivered. The likelihood of this increases if the package slips into the wrong dimension.
Chapter Notes: Takes place during On the Head of a Pin.
Spike really despised the sound of Alistair’s laugh, but that wasn’t stopping the demon. “Why? What’s your interest in angels?” Alistair took his time enunciating that last word.
“The fact that anything related to that word seems to exist in order to irritate me, for starters. Then again, you irritate me too.” Spike looked upwards, towards the heavens for a moment. “Things that don’t bug me will make it out of this whole ordeal in much better shape than things that do.” He took a long drag, blowing the smoke towards the demon when he finished.
Alistair looked at him through heavy lidded eyes. “You don’t seem so scary to me.”
Spike allowed a brief smile to cross his face. “I don’t, do I? But then, you remember, that I’m a little bit of the unknown, crossing into your world.” Spike stood and started walking around the circle. “Con-men – grifters, we called them back in the day, well, they liked to think they knew all the angles. Add just a dash of the unknown, and they’d have to back right off the con. Too risky. Better to wait and find another set of suckers than to risk the unknown element.” Spike completed the circle and laid his hands on the side of the cart. “But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Alistair?”
Alistair sniffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Spike laughed. “But isn’t that what I just said?” He finished the cigarette and ground out the butt underneath his foot. “So, instead, I’d like to ask you what you know about angels. In particular, I’m wondering if you know how to kill the miserable bastards.”
Alistair’s lips thinned and he glanced at the door. “Any particular reason you’d like to kill your current allies?”
“Who said I was their ally?”
Alistair inclined his head towards Spike. “Well, you are on the other side of that circle, armed with that, ah, nasty looking cart.”
“Mmm, that’s true.” Spike pulled the tarp off the cart and began digging around in it. For whatever reason, a large bottle of Jim Beam was on the bottom level: must have been from Castiel in order to steel Dean’s resolve. Spike wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He opened the bottle and took a good, long swig from it. He looked at Alistair, who was staring at him, then took another long drink. “Bourbon,” mused Spike. “It’s one of the few things these Yanks got right. Do you-” Spike tilted the bottle towards Alistair, but then withdrew it.
“You’d have to cross into this devil’s trap, which I notice you’ve been ever so very careful not to do,” said Alistair.
Spike nodded and took another drink. “Bloody rules. Haven’t sussed them out yet, you see.” He lit another cigarette. “Damned Winchesters and their bloody salt circles. Where I’m from, the demons would be using the stuff to season the boys’ entrails, but that shit does seem to do the trick in these parts. I’m just not willing to risk it, mate, not yet, sorry.”
“And where are you from, exactly?”
Spike turned to face Alistair directly. “I do believe I’m the one not currently chained to a religious symbol, so I’ll be asking the questions, thank you ever so very much.” Alistair looked away. “You’re waging this war, breaking all of these seals, all to free the devil, and that’s great. Everyone needs to have a hobby. Where do you find out about those seals?”
Alistair shifted under his bonds. “It is written, if you know where to look.”
Spike waved the cigarette. “Right, right, probably a bad idea to leave the manual for ending the world lying open on the coffee table. How long’s this little war been going on, anyway?” said Spike around the butt of the cigarette, his hands busy assembling something on the cart.
“Long as any of us can remember,” said Alistair. He couldn’t quite make out what Spike was doing.
Spike looked back at him and stepped away from the cart. “Half the pleasure’s in the anticipation,” said Spike.
“Not much you can do, standing out there.”
Spike laughed. “And Dean said that you were creative, down in the Pit. Lad doesn’t have much imagination himself, I’ll grant you. Loyal little soldier boy, that’s our Dean.” Spike finished his cigarette. “Said you were the head of the torture division down there.” Alistair looked down, saying nothing. “He’s not half bad a detective though: he was right about that. What did he do, to earn your special attention?” Alistair gave no visible response. “Sam couldn’t deal his brother’s way out, and the way he looked at you, back at the funeral home, that’s a very special sort of hatred. You must have worked him over hard. And I admit, I’ve been getting my kicks needling the pup for weeks now, but I don’t have an agenda. You definitely do.” Spike lifted a thin tube to his lips and blew through it. A needle pierced Alistair’s arm and he shouted in shock. “That holy water is nasty stuff, isn’t it? Why did Dean matter so much?”
Alistair glared at Spike. “And it is written, that a righteous man shall spill blood in hell, and the first seal will be broken.”
Spike smiled. “That was easy. Of course, you sort of wanted to tell me that. Figure it’ll lower my opinion of the boy, which is funny considering how I already think of the brat.” Spike chuckled and blew two more darts at Alistair. “This is kind of fun.”
Alistair glowered. “I rather think you’re missing the point of torture for interrogation. You ask a question first, then you fire the dart when I don’t answer.”
A noise caught Spike’s attention and he walked over to the side of the circle. Alistair couldn’t see what he did from there, but he heard the sound of metal scraping against metal. “I’m afraid you’ve misread my intentions, pet. It’s the angels out there who want me to interrogate you – well, actually, what they really wanted was for Dean to be doing it, which I’m sure would have been loads of laughs for all of us.” Spike pushed the cart forward so that it straddled the devil’s trap. “Problem with that is that I’m reasonably certain you don’t know a damn thing about the question.” Spike licked his lips. “Hard man like you, likes the violence, hates those winged pillocks – if you had any idea about how to kill angels you’d’ve had time for nothing else in your day.” Alistair’s eyes widened at this and Spike smirked at having his guess confirmed. “But they sent me in here nonetheless. At least one of ‘em knows exactly how much nothing you know, so I’ve got to put on a good show. And when you get back down to the Pit, you can tell them all about dear ol’ Spike, who likes these humans and all the entertainment they provide, and doesn’t take kindly to the folk who hate the game so much they’d rather smash the board.” Spike grabbed a silver spike off the cart. “That is, if you ever make it back down there.” Exhaling, Spike hopped into the circle then took a quick step out. “Hey, look at that. Guess I’m not as much like you as you’d hoped. All that caution for nothing.” He strode forward and cupped Alistair’s stubbled chin in his hand. “For this part, though, I’m gonna need you to scream.” He buried the spike in the joint of Alistair’s left shoulder and the demon howled in pain. “Much obliged.”
~*~
Castiel had spent some time in hell, working his way through to rescue Dean. He remembered all too well the shrieks and screams of agony that were hell’s auditory wallpaper. The wailing of the damned haunted him when he wasn’t thinking directly of his orders; fortunately, most of the time he concentrated on his Father’s Will and he didn’t have to think about them.
Another unearthly howl came from the other side of the door. The noise sounded different when he heard it through human ears, and Castiel could feel his body’s urge to cover his ears or simply to flinch. Castiel ignored these reflexes, content that the entity making the noises had been the one causing so many of the screams he’d heard in hell. The blood flowing through the host’s veins wasn’t actually any colder, no matter how it felt.
Uriel hadn’t been part of the raid on hell. His body displayed no reaction to the screams of pain that had become near constant these last fifteen minutes. “The creature Spike was not lying about his abilities,” said Uriel.
“No,” said Castiel, “it appears not.”
Uriel stepped closer. “Do you believe what he said about our Father?”
Curses about their Father were being shouted loudly on the other side of the door. “Can you argue with the grace present in the amulet? Spike was touched by our Father, whether he saw Him or not.”
Uriel grimaced. “Why would our Father allow an entity that unclean into His Presence?”
“If you will recall, the Son had some interest in the unclean as well. ‘Do not call anything impure that God has made clean,’” quoted Castiel.
“We are not speaking here of tax collectors, whores, or shellfish; we are speaking of a malevolent force foreign to our world, foreign to heaven, hardly discernible from that which we know is demonic.” Another roaring howl interrupted their conversation. Uriel turned away from Castiel. “I find myself troubled by these developments. I shall seek revelation.” With a flutter of wings, Uriel disappeared.
Castiel was honest with himself: he too was troubled by these developments. But the creature Spike had prevented Dean from suffering; that had to count for something. And despite the quasi-demonic stain that permeated every fiber of Spike’s being – Castiel had been unable to expel it when he recreated Spike’s body – there was a soul behind those blue eyes. The nature of that soul was all but inscrutable, save for an overwhelming sense of determination. Exactly what the soul was determined to do, however, remained unclear to Castiel.
Castiel lost himself in thought for quite a long time, until the screaming ceased for a few seconds, and the metal door swung open, slamming shut behind Spike who had a lit cigarette dangling from his lips and blood covering his hands. “My pal Alistair needs a little time to collect his thoughts. Know where a bloke could get a quick wash-up, Peaches?”
Castiel pointed to a basin in the corner of the room. “Why do you call me Peaches?”
Spike laughed as he turned on the spigot. “‘Cause of your lovely complexion, mate. Funny thing, them keeping the water turned on in an abandoned slaughterhouse like this. Works out just fine for me, mind you.” Spike turned the water off and wiped his hands off on his pants. “Where’s your grumpy friend?”
“Uriel has gone to seek revelation,” said Castiel. “How goes the interrogation?”
Spike’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, just dandy. So we’re here all by our lonesomes?”
Castiel inclined his head. “That is correct.”
“You’re Cas then. Dean talks about you some. And you’re the one drew all those doodles on the floor in chalk?” Spike flecked some ash away.
“Yes,” said Castiel. “They are the strongest Solomon keys in existence.” Spike was staring Castiel down, but that didn’t bother the angel. He simply stared back. After a few seconds Spike relented, or perhaps he had seen what he was looking for. “Has the demon revealed anything about how they are killing my brethren?”
“Some.” There was that stare again. “But in order to know whether he’s telling me lies, I just wanted to ask you: do you know how to kill an angel?”
Castiel blinked. “As I said before, I know of no method available to a demon, no.”
“But you know of ways available to…” Spike tilted his head, but Castiel remained silent. “Interesting.” He dropped the cigarette butt in the basin, wiping his hands together. “Well, I’d better get back to work then. Cheers, Cas.” Spike opened the door again, making Alistair’s hoarse moans audible for a few moments before the door shut, leaving Castiel alone with his thoughts. Castiel would not refer to them as doubts.
~*~
A small weight pressed down on the end of the bed. As comforting as the darkness behind his eyelids was, Dean opened his eyes, his hand automatically reaching for the pistol underneath his pillow. The gun was unnecessary, though, he realized as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. “Anna? Is this a dream?” Dean sat up against the headboard.
Anna shook her head. “No, Dean, I’m really here.”
“Found a vessel that looks just like your old body,” said Dean, remembering the feel of that body before shaking his head, wondering if that counted as some kind of special blasphemy.
Anna smiled as she watched the train of thought roll through Dean’s head. “I called in a few favors, got my body back.”
“Looks good – you look good.” Dean wanted to slap himself, but he’d never had a one night-stand come back to haunt him quite like this before. At least he’d fallen asleep with all of his clothes on: facing Anna half-naked would have been way more than he could ask for his brain to process at this point.
“Thank you.”
“So, uh, what’s going on?” His eyes flickered over to the other bed, where his brother slept peacefully for once, an angel watching over him.
Anna pursed her lips. “I had heard some unpleasant rumors. I came here to prevent them from taking place, and was happy to find that I was misinformed. Figured while I was here I would say ‘hi’ to some old friends.”
Dean shifted his weight on the bed. “That’s cool. Those rumors have anything to do with Cas and Uriel showing up here tonight, asking me to go torture Alistair for them?”
Anna’s eyes darkened. “They did.” She turned to face Dean. “But you’re not with them. What happened?” Dean told Anna about how they’d found Spike, and how Spike had volunteered to take Dean’s place. As he finished, he remembered Spike’s last questions to them. “Anna, you don’t know anything about a list of seals, do you? I mean, it’s such an obvious question, but we’ve been so caught up in this whole thing, it never occurred to us to ask.”
Anna looked upward. “I was actually more attuned to the heavenly host while I was human, Dean. I’m in hiding, now. My brethren are hunting me even as we speak, and there are precious few of them whom I may trust. And even before, though I commanded a garrison, I was not among the ranks of those privileged with that kind of information. So I do not have such a list as you ask for, not at present.”
Dean leaned forward. “Could you get it, maybe?”
Anna nodded. “I will try. Even though I have my doubts, it pains me to watch this war, to see my brothers and sisters dying.”
“Not used to that sort of thing?” asked Dean. Anna’s bitten lips confirmed it. “Angels are hard to kill.”
“The last time so many died was in Lucifer’s rebellion. It was before I had experienced humanity, before I understood sorrow like I do now.” Anna’s eyes glimmered with the beginnings of tears.
Dean moved to sit on the edge of the bed beside her, daring to take the angel’s narrow shoulders in his hands. “So, the only thing you know of that’s ever killed angels in battle is other angels?”
The tears in Anna’s eyes dried out as she processed what Dean was saying. “Yes. Only other angels.” Their gazes met. “It can’t be-”
Dean stood. “It’s the only thing that makes any sense.” He grabbed his brother’s arm. “Sam, Sammy, wake up.”
“Wstfgl?”
“Wake up, get dressed, Anna’s gonna take us and the car to wherever Cas and Spike have disappeared off to.” Dean looked back at Anna. “You can do that, right?”
Anna stood too. “Yes, I know where they are – but what are you going to do?”
“Warn Cas.”
~*~
Blood-shot eyes looked up wearily at Spike while he wiped the blade of the knife clean. “Put on enough of a show yet, Spike?” Alistair muttered.
“That should about do it for now, mate.” Spike put the knife down on the cart. “But look at you, all covered in blood and gore like that. Let me clean you up a bit.” Spike took the remaining jug of holy water and poured it over the demon, smoke issuing from the battered flesh while Alistair screamed. “Stunned you still have the voice to make all that racket,” he said as he tossed the jug aside. He grabbed the bottle of Jim Beam and the duster off of its hook, slung it over his arm and headed for the door.
“When I get out of here, I will find you,” wheezed Alistair.
“Join the queue.” Spike exited to find Uriel had returned and looking ever so slightly surprised to see Spike. Spike headed over to the basin to wash up before donning his coat. The nearest exit was through the window about ten feet overhead, and there was a door in the far corner that looked to lead outside. For the time being, Spike decided to keep Castiel between him and the larger figure, and hoped to hell that he’d read Cas right earlier. “I’ve got what you need,” said Spike.
Castiel turned. “He has revealed how they are killing the angels?”
Spike took a long drink. “It’s amazing what you can find out when you show a man his own small intestine.”
Castiel blinked at this information but Uriel didn’t. “There were no unforeseen complications in your work,” said Uriel.
“Not a one.” Spike shrugged. “Told you I was good at this bit.”
“So how is he doing it?” asked Castiel.
“It’s an involved process, ‘s’got chanting in and a sword forged from the iron in the blood of a thousand sinners,” said Spike before taking another drink. “Really, quite ingenious. That bint Lilith’s behind it, but I suspected you already knew that.”
“We thought as much,” said Castiel. Uriel remained silent, but moved closer behind Castiel.
Spike nodded and looked around. “Well, you lot should probably get on with killing Lilith, then. You didn’t have me asking how to kill demons, so I presume you already know how to do that.”
The corners of Uriel’s mouth turned up. “We do, Spike.”
Castiel realized that Spike and Uriel were staring at each other as though he wasn’t even there. “Uriel, you must report this information to our garrison.”
Spike arched his eyebrows. “That’s right, Uriel, go spread the good word.”
“I would, except I think you are a liar and a blasphemy against creation,” said Uriel.
Spike snorted. “And what makes you say that?” He took a few steps to the left, keeping his eyes on the angels. Uriel looked primed to charge, but was distracted when the Winchester brothers ran in from the exit that Spike had been eyeing.
“Cas!” shouted Dean. “It’s a trap!” Castiel turned towards Sam and Dean, so he didn’t see what Spike saw: Uriel pulling something out of his jacket.
Not eager to find out what it was, Spike rushed him, pushing Castiel aside and getting a hole in his gut for the trouble. Spike fell to his knees as Uriel withdrew the blade. Sam and Dean stopped short, and Castiel simply stared at the sword in Uriel’s hand. “Feeling… a little, guilty… there?” gasped Spike. “I mean, are you worried Daddy’s going to find out what you’ve been up to?”
“What have you done, Uriel?” breathed Castiel.
“The existence of this abomination proves nothing!” raged Uriel, running Spike through once more. This time when he pulled the sword out Spike fell onto his back. To Castiel’s surprise Spike was laughing as bright red blood bubbled out of his lips. Sam reached Uriel first and tried to wrestle the sword away from Uriel and was thrown across the room. Dean got in a few good punches before Uriel slammed him to the ground. Uriel raised the sword again, this time over Dean, but finally Castiel reacted, grabbing Uriel’s wrist and pushing him back up into the wall.
“The only thing that can kill an angel is another angel,” rasped Dean as he got up to his feet.
Castiel looked up at Uriel’s eyes. “Why would you do such a thing?” He squeezed his brother’s wrists until the sword clattered to the ground.
“Lucifer was right,” said Uriel before he slammed his head into Castiel’s. Castiel stumbled backwards. “Our Father abandoned us long before he left this world.” Uriel reached for the sword but Castiel recovered and threw himself into Uriel. Together the angels tumbled across the floor. Uriel eventually rolled to the top and slammed his fist into Castiel’s face. “He loved these flawed mud men more than He ever loved us, His more perfect creations.” With a wave of his hand, Uriel swept Dean and Sam back off of their feet. “I had hoped to argue some sense into you, Castiel, but you feel for them even more than He did, don’t you?” Uriel knocked Castiel’s head into the cement three times before standing up. He looked over, but the sword was gone. “Wha-”
The sword through his throat stopped Uriel’s exclamation, and the last thing he heard was Anna’s voice. “You make that sound like a bad thing.” Uriel’s body fell to the floor and Anna closed her eyes. “It’s not, Castiel.”
Castiel pushed himself into a sitting position with his elbows. “Hello, Anna. Thank you for saving me.”
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Thank Dean: he’s the one who figured it out.”
Dean was levering himself back to his feet by the wall. “Not a problem. Couldn’t have done it without Spike.” Dean looked over, and Sam was already crouched over the stricken Spike. “Shit.”
Sam examined the damage. The two wounds in Spike’s stomach continued to bleed. “Spike, you don’t look so good,” said Sam. He pulled off his sweatshirt and pressed it against the wide gashes.
Spike spat a gob of blood to the side. “It’ll take more than that to kill the likes of me.” His eyes met Dean’s. “So long as the pillock didn’t ruin my coat.”
Anna and Castiel joined Dean in standing over Spike. “Heal him already, Cas. He got those holes keeping you from getting skewered from behind.”
Castiel shook his head. “My powers will not be effective here: he is not human.”
Anna stared down. “What is he?”
Sam looked up at them then looked down to avoid Dean’s eyes. “He’s a kind of vampire.”
“What?” Dean took a step back. “If he’s a vampire, shouldn’t he be fine? Uriel didn’t exactly take off his head.”
“I don’t know,” muttered Sam.
Anna raised the sword in her hand. “This is a holy relic. If he is a vampire, he may have difficulty healing from the wounds that it delivers.”
“Blood,” coughed Spike. “I haven’t fed in six years, that’s the real problem. We’re in a bloody slaughterhouse, find some swine blood or something.”
Sam looked around. “Looks like we’re in an abandoned slaughterhouse, Spike, not so much with the fresh blood here.” Sam considered his own arm before offering it. “Just take a little, you’ll be fine.”
Spike’s eyes flickered yellow and he sniffed before shaking his head. “Can’t. Not yours.”
Sam swallowed hard as he met Spike’s look. It was probably best not to risk mixing his own demon–tainted blood with Spike’s. Sam looked up. “Dean, it’s gonna have to be you.”
“What?” Dean’s eyes widened. “You want me to feed a vampire?”
“I’m sort of bleeding out here, Dean, and I did save your angel pal.” Spike smiled weakly. “That’s got to count for something, right?”
Dean pursed his lips. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” But he was kneeling down and pulling his knife out of his belt. “I feel any teeth or tongue on my arm and I will take your head off with this,” said Dean.
“You got it.” Spike lifted his head up and Dean made a shallow slice across his forearm. At the smell of the blood, Spike’s face changed, morphing into a lumpy form that really did look demonic. With one last second of hesitation, Dean allowed Spike to press his mouth over the cut. Vampires really did suck, and everyone watched in silent horrified fascination at the spectacle. After several long moments it was too much for Dean to take and he pulled his arm away. Spike let his head fall back, his face returning to normal.
Sam removed the bloodied shirt and found Spike’s wounds knitting themselves back together. “Nice trick you’ve got there,” he breathed.
Spike sat up. “It comes in handy every now and then.” He stood, offering Dean a hand up, which Dean didn’t take. Spike’s eyes flickered to the bloody knife in Dean’s other hand. “If you’re going to use that on me now, at the very least you’ll need to be standing up.” With a grunt, Dean accepted Spike’s assistance. “Thanks, Dean.” The two stepped away from each other, not quite willing to look the other in the eye.
Sam rose to his feet. “Is everyone okay?”
“I’m fine,” said Anna. She looked over at Castiel, who still had a far away stare. “Castiel, it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known that Uriel had fallen like that.”
Castiel looked over at her. “Why should I have not?” He lowered his head. “I have been blind to many things recently.” He looked at Dean, but found no answers in the other man’s face.
Spike cleared his throat. “Alistair’s still trapped in the other room. You should probably take care of that.”
Castiel ducked his head. “You are right.”
The others followed him into the next room, Sam and Dean’s eyes widening. “Oh my God,” said Sam, feeling vomit rise up in his throat. Alistair was covered in gore, and unless Sam was mistaken, missing an ear, two or three fingers, and several stretches of skin. Dean’s own stomach clenched at the sight, but it was one all too familiar from Hell.
“Gang’s all here,” wheezed Alistair. His gaze settled on Dean. “Fine company you keep these days. Didn’t even ask me any questions while he did all this.”
Spike grunted. “And I’m sure you stop torturing when you get the right answers in hell. What are you waiting for, Cas? Exorcise him and heal the host’s body.”
Alistair snorted. “Remember what I said, Spike.”
“Give my love to the Pit.”
Castiel looked at Spike with a hint of disgust in his eyes before raising his hand. He crossed into the Solomon’s key and pressed his fingers against the bloody brow. After chanting a few incantations, black smoke poured from the body’s orifices and sank back down to hell. Another incantation and Castiel felt the power of the heavenly host flow through him, healing the stricken form before him. Castiel granted the poor soul unconsciousness to shield him from these horrors.
Spike was the first to step forward and begin untying the man’s bonds. Anna waved a hand and the chains fell away. The man slumped over and Spike shouldered the body. He turned to face his companions, none of whom looked very pleased with him. Spike rolled his eyes. “All’s well that ends well, mates.” He marched toward the doors. “Let’s get this man somewhere he’ll be able to wake up in slightly less terror.” With that, Spike walked out the door.
Castiel looked at Anna. “You should go. Otherwise, I will have to report you.”
She nodded. “I’m taking the sword.” To Dean’s surprise, Castiel did not object, and with one last look at the Winchesters, Anna fluttered out of their lives.
Castiel turned away. “I must report to my garrison.”
“Are you sure you can trust them?” asked Sam. “I mean, if Uriel got to them…”
Castiel nodded. “I will report this to a higher authority. But it must be done quickly.” Then he too was gone.
Dean looked over at his brother. “You knew Spike was a vampire? A weird-ass, lumpy vampire.”
“Yeah,” Sam admitted.
“More fucking secrets.” Dean shook his head and headed out the door. Sam followed a few seconds later. Outside the abattoir, Spike was loading Alistair’s former host into the backseat of the Impala.
“You’ll get him someplace safe,” Spike asked Dean.
Dean nodded. “We can do that.”
“Good.” Spike turned away. “I have your number. If I find something out, I know how to reach you.”
“Wait!” called out Sam. “Where are you going?”
Spike sighed, lighting a cigarette. “I’ve got about forty-five minutes until dawn, and I’ve got to find someplace dark to wait it out. I can’t very well ride around in that car during daylight, and I don’t see Dean-o here letting me black out the windows on his baby.”
Dean pursed his lips. “You’re damn right about that.” He let his hand rest on the Impala’s roof, looking at the unhappy expression on Sam’s face. “Most of the hotels Sam and I stay at are pretty dark. I could use a rest, and I’ve got some unanswered questions. Just for today, you should come with us.”
Spike blinked. “You think?”
“Keep me thinking about it and I’ll start having second thoughts.” Dean opened the driver’s door. “And don't even think about smoking in the car.”
Spike looked at Sam, who shrugged and headed for the passenger’s side. “Okay then.” Dropping the cigarette, Spike got into the back seat. “Let’s go.”
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