Team Free Everything 4 - Angel: Resurrection
Fourth in the Team Free Everything series-a crack s10 AU wherein Sam, Castiel and Gadreel team up for adventures and hijinks.
Now with 50% more plot!
No specific spoilers for s10. As always, totally silly; not meant to be taken seriously.
Team Free Everything 4 - Angel: Resurrection
“So, your bus is late, too, huh.”
Dean looks up from his cellphone at the man sitting opposite him. He’s an average-looking middle-aged man, overweight and pasty, an enormous suitcase propped between his legs. He’s sweating in the confines of the cramped bus-station, and he smiles at Dean, dragging a handkerchief across his forehead. “Where are you going?”
Dean considers going back to Flappy Bird, but this is his third cellphone in a month-he doesn’t want to smash it yet. Maybe he’ll smash a skull or two instead. “Oklahoma,” he says.
“Ah.” The man beams. “What a coincidence! I’m going there, too. Off to meet my family after a long time, you see.”
“Right.” Dean’s attention is back on his cellphone. Maybe Angry Birds…
“Too bad the bus is this late. It isn’t usually like this, you know.”
“Too bad,” Dean grunts, flicking through his apps. Just what the hell is it with stupid games with birds in it, anyway? What he needs to unwind is murder. And maybe something with classic cars and, hey, dinosaurs. Or something.
“So, uh-you’re going back to family, too?”
Dean sighs, looks up again. “I ain’t fucking going anywhere pal, because apparently being a demon means fuck-all when you have no wheels and your original body to take care of, and that’s more than a little annoying. So if you don’t keep your trap shut, I’m going to start pulling your intestines out your nostrils, capisce?”
To his surprise, the man only smiles wider. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a rectangular object wrapped in brown paper. Then he gets up, walks over, and drops the package in Dean’s lap. “You really should go see your family, you know,” he says, “With holiday season being close and all.”
Dean frowns at the package. When he looks up, the man’s gone.
The fuck-?
He tears away the paper to reveal a tiny unmarked wooden box. When he opens that, something familiar falls out onto his hand.
Three minutes later, he’s back at the counter, asking for the next bus out to Kansas.
-
“You live in a strange and wondrous place,” Gadreel says.
“So they say,” Sam mutters. He wads up a bunch of tissue papers and approaches Castiel, who’s clutching at his bleeding nose. “Bend forward, not back, Cas-yeah, that’s it.” He presses the tissues against his nose.
“A meeting place between so many dimensions, so many realities!” Gadreel slams his hands down on the table. “This is as good as-no, greater than Heaven!”
“Most of the Heaven that you’ve seen lately is your prison,” Sam points out, not unkindly.
Castiel removes the tissues and spits a glob of blood off to the side. “And certainly Heaven never had these… infernal creatures come out of nowhere. We were… organised. Beautiful.”
“Sadistic,” Gadreel suggests.
“-and thematically consistent.” Castiel looks up at Sam. “I’m not sure why the Men of Letters had doors that opened to children’s fantasy. Perhaps the Wicked Witch of the West is actually undead? Or Glinda is a demon.” He tilts his head, pondering. “Yes, yes-she must’ve been; only a demon or a Winchester can achieve such levels of manipulation and cunning-”
Sam presses the tissues back against his face. “Just-” He shakes his head. “Just stop talking.”
“Does nobody here understand the implications?” Gadreel roars. Sam starts in surprise, and Castiel topples out of his chair. “We have entire worlds at our perusal, to find answers to all of our problems, and all you can discuss are-are-winged primates and bedtime stories? Even Metatron,” he sputters, “had more sense of purpose!”
“Now-that was uncalled for, Dree,” Castiel says, even as Sam snorts.
“There are universes at our fingertips,” Gadreel says, “whole worlds where we can find the solutions to all of our problems; interlocking dimensions in a celestial lattice of which we are the centre; where we…. we can-finally-find free, unlimited wi-fi access for Heaven!”
There’s a long, long silence before Sam says, “Well, that was a bit anti-climactic.”
“I agree,” Castiel says. “Kind of like building a Death Star to kill a mosquito.”
Gadreel scowls.
-
Sam stands with his arms crossed in the middle of the room marked ‘Laboratory’. It’s a stone room, hexagonal in shape, consisting of nothing but musty shelves extending from ceiling to the floor. The shelves are stocked with glass vessels filled with liquid of every imaginable colour, and while that is not disconcerting by itself, Sam’s pretty sure that the jars are changing location every time he looks away. (Either that, or the place is too dim for him to make out the difference between indigo and violet.)
What really clinches the creep factor is that Sam can hear them whispering.
“What do we do now?” Gadreel whispers, almost reverently.
Sam shrugs. “I don’t know-the last time, I think we just knocked something over at random.”
“What of the Men of Letters’ archives? Do they hold any clue?”
“No,” Castiel says shortly, walking into the room. “I’m afraid we must employ an Indiana Jones approach if we are to progress.” He picks up the nearest jar. The orange glop inside seems to glow, and Sam swears he can hear-
“Cas, wait-”
“Do something stupid and wait and see what happens,” Castiel says and smashes the jar against the floor.
-
Dean stands in front of the bunker for a long, long time, wondering what he’s going to say to his doubtlessly smug brother when he opens the door. Well, Sammy, I know I left promising to spread mayhem and murder, but I just spent ten hours cooped up in a stinking bus thinking of app ideas just so I could crawl back home. Whatcha been up to? Yeah, demon or not, a man’s got his pride.
Besides, being evil and immortal? Not exactly what it’s cracked up to be. He still has the scars from fighting a particularly nasty vampire coven in New Orleans to prove it.
Dean takes a deep breath and raises his hand to knock on the door.
There’s a rumbling sort of noise from within, and before Dean can do much else, the door explodes outwards, and a gigantic screeching dragon shoots out into the sky.
The last thing Dean hears is Sam screaming, “CAS, THE NEXT JAR YOU BREAK I WILL SHOVE UP-” before he loses consciousness.
Finis