Dark Angel Big Bang "Apocalypse Now and Later" - Part 2a

[ladyarcherfan3]

Chapter Two
Old habits apparently died hard, or the former king of the crossroads was going for some sort of irony when he suggested the meeting place.

The quiet country roads met and crossed and then continued on. A cool breeze stirred the grass in the surrounding ditches. Then there was a gust of stronger wind, and a faint cloud of dust rose up.

Castiel stood in the center of the crossroads. It was a few minutes after midnight, and he peered into the darkness as he turned slowly; Crowley was late, as was his wont. It never mattered who declared a meeting, if they met anywhere but Crowley’s lair, he always chose to be fashionably late.

“Hello, Cas. How is my favorite angel this evening? Not well, from the look of things.”

He turned to see Crowley in the center of the crossroads, inspecting his fingernails. “Technically, it is now morning,” Castiel replied, the coldness in his voice evident even in his own ears.

Crowley flicked something out from under his thumbnail and looked up with a frown. “Now, Cassie, there’s no reason to be so icy, is there?” He took several steps closer. “So, tell me what’s got your feathers in a twist and made it so necessary for me to stop my investigations.” He said the word delicately and looked at his fingernails again, and even in the dark Castiel could see the bloodstains.

“You can’t tell me you haven’t heard at least whispers,” he replied. “The Cage is technically in Hell, though there is no interaction, and you are King of Hell.”

Crowley continued to inspect his fingers. “Darling, you’re going to have to be more specific. I hear lots of whispers and rumors lately. Many of which come from you.”

He ignored the jab. “If Raphael is planning this, I have no doubt there is some cohort of demons planning something similar. I need to have your word that there will be no such thing. We cannot allow this cycle to start again. I fought to end it the first time.” He narrowed his eyes and locked gazes with Crowley, the demon still cool and impartial. “And I doubt you want to lose your title as King of Hell.”

Crowley shrugged. “Fine. I’ll keep a tight leash on my boys, make sure they don’t do anything that would ruin your party. And it would be nice if you keep your feathered frienemies out of my area, as well. I have a feeling if they get that close, you’re going to be in for a world of hurt.”

“If they get that far, I’m expecting you to stop them, especially if you want to keep your throne.”

Crowley lifted his hands in a mock of surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll keep my lot close and make sure no one gets into Hell, or anywhere near. Though, there are still Hellgates. Can’t promise about those, since they are above ground. And usually inside rings of iron and devil’s traps. Might want to do some recon and pull in as many allies as you have. Just remember, Raphael could make his move at any time.” He waved his fingers once and disappeared, leaving only the faintest smell of sulfur behind.

“Crowley!” Castiel bellowed into the night, but he knew it was useless.

He hated taking advice from the demon, but he was right; he needed all the help he could get, and fast. And there were few allies he could trust to understand and reach more quickly than the Winchesters.

There was a rush of air pushed by powerful wings, and then the country crossroads stood empty in the night, marred only by footsteps in the dirt that began nowhere and ended the same way.

*
Angela woke the next morning to a soft wave of silver tinted comfort. There was no voice in her ear or mind, but the whisper remained like the sweetest aftertaste across her tongue, the softest caress across her skin. With a soft sigh, she rolled over, savoring the connection to another soul.

And she gagged. The stench of unwashed body was ground into the bedding. Her own unwashed body. She could feel the film of sweat and oil across her skin, feel the greasy, matted mess that was her hair.

This couldn’t go on. Mourning for the things she had lost couldn’t go on forever. A surge of pride and determination washed through her. The silver voice whispered through her mind again, images of remembered strength and power that she had once flaunted. Manticore had been hell, but it had formed her into a weapon. There was much more to her than just a wife and foster mother.

She was a queen, crowned in blood and silver.

Sunlight spilled back into the room as she ripped back the curtains for the first time in weeks. The cool wind worked its way through the funk of sweat and self-pity through opened windows. She pulled off dirty clothes and strode naked to the bathroom, head held high.

Her hair was close to ruin; there were several patches that were all but felted from the lack of care she had given it. So she hacked it off, going short. The dark, heavy locks fell even with her jaw. There was a risk to that, she knew. Her barcode wouldn’t be hidden.

But where we are going, and how, Angela, that little mark won’t even matter.

The voice swelled in her mind for a moment and then faded, leaving only the impression of a satisfied, proud smile. She looked at the mirror, saw the bright flare of what she had been and what she could be, and the same smile flickered across her face.

An hour later, she strode out of the house, armored against any threat with her biker leathers, and a high collared white turtle neck. Despite the surge of confidence she had felt earlier, long engrained prudence had won out. Besides, the clash of colors was startling and fantastic.

Her bike, which had been one of the first things she’d secured after arriving in Canada, roared to life and she pulled out onto the road, heading for the highway. She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew she had to get back to the States. There was no question in her mind. That was where she needed now. And the silver presence in her mind continued to smile.

*
“Son of a bitch! Cas! Remember the thing I said about the bell? Yeah, seriously considering it.” Dean scowled at the angel.

Both brothers were used to Cas showing up unexpectedly by this point. But when he decided to show up without warning while Sam was wielding a suture needle in Dean’s arm, the resulting surprise took a painful turn.

The flutter of wings and the sudden materialization of another person in the room had made Sam jump, jabbing the needle much harder and deeper into Dean’s bicep than was needed or expected. So yeah, he was a little pissed.

Castiel ignored or wasn’t bothered by the stream of profanity that Dean took up as Sam sorted out the needle and finished the last few stiches. “I doubt a bell would be entirely effective, as you would not hear it until I was corporeal in this plane and that is usually the same time you do notice me.”

Sam put a gauze pad over the stitches and passed Dean the fifth of whiskey from the side table. He took several very careful breaths and sat down on his bed. After a moment he looked up and said, “Cas, you look horrible.”

At the same time Dean said, “What do you want this time, Cas?”

The angel’s face was haggard, but his eyes were restless, constantly shifting to different points in the room, but never quite focusing, as if he was looking at a different level of the world. “I…need your help. It is quite a large request.”

Dean’s mouth pinched, and he took a swig of whiskey before answering. “We just helped you and the rest of the world by ganking Eve. And we just got beat up by a revenant - I’ve got stitches in three different places and Sammy’s got a couple busted ribs - so can we at least have a break before you start asking favors?”

Without a word, Castiel stepped forward and pressed his fingers against both brothers’ foreheads. Sam took a deep breath and gave a small smile, but Dean yelped as he felt the wounds on his arm, ribs and back heal; the stiches disappeared with an quiet pop.

“I am correct in assuming you are in suitable physical condition now. And you are prepared to listen.” Castiel’s personal brand of sarcasm dripped off the words.

Dean rolled his eyes and took another drink, lips lifting in a snarl against both the burn of the liquor and Cas’s attitude. “Alright then, start talking.” He held the bottle out to Sam, but was waved away.

“The war is taking a turn for the worse,” Castiel started.

“When isn’t it?” Dean muttered.

“Raphael’s faction has found a way to open the Cage, free Michael and Lucifer, and restart the Apocalypse.”

Before he even finished the sentence, Dean had shot to his feet, jaw clenched and eyes wide. The whiskey bottle fell to the floor and splashed dark amber liquid across the dingy carpet. But Sam folded into himself, color leaching out of his cheeks; his gaze went distant, and small tremors ran through his frame.

“No. Fuck no!” Dean bellowed. “We went through that once, there’s no goddamn way we are going through that again!”

His fists clenched and he made a half step towards Cas, as if he was going to beat him on the simple principle of having spoken such words. But Sam sucked in a quiet breath that left in a quiet whimper, and Dean turned just as quickly.

“Sammy? You’re not scratching at that Wall, are you?”

Sam flicked an eyebrow and took a deep breath. “The Apocalypse and everything about that is pre-Wall, Dean. I still have that in full Technicolor up here.” He tapped a finger against his temple.

Satisfied for the moment that Sam was at least mostly okay, Dean turned and loosed his fury at Cas. “Goddamnit, Cas! How can they open the Cage? I hid the Horsemen’s rings, all in curse boxes with anti-everything sigils and every possible protective method I know. And do those assholes actually think we’ll say yes, after everything we did to stop them?”

“I said yes once,” Sam said in a hollow voice, face lowered and hidden by his hair. “I could say yes again if it was the only way.”

“You’re not.” Dean growled, but the anger was not at Sam. “Because this is not happening again. And I said yes too, don’t forget.”

Castiel waited out Dean’s tirade and then continued. “Raphael’s people found a spell similar to the one Balthazar used to send you away from Virgil, but it is more powerful.”

“More powerful how?” Sam asked. He sat up and the color was returning to his face, and his eyes were focused and hard.

Castiel resisted the urge to nod in satisfaction. They were rallying and willing to listen and help, as he knew they would. How could they not? “They managed to find a timeline and reality that runs extremely close to ours. Extremely close. It is some years into your future and has allowed them to find vessels and a window to open a Hellgate.”

“Vessels? Wait, how? They need the bloodline,” Dean said as Sam stated, “They can’t open the Cage from just a Hellgate.”

“That is correct Sam. They have opened cracks in the Cage from that timeline. If the cage were a prison cell, the bars are not broken, but bent, ruining the perfect integrity. It is incredible powerful and intricate Enochian spell work. Apparently the weapons cache of Heaven included more than just physical weapons. It included texts of unparalleled power.”

“Wait, there’s no breaking of the seals that has to happen first?” Dean asked. “Isn’t that part of the deal?”

“The seals have been broken, there is nothing that can undo that,” Castiel replied. “But as I said, the integrity of the Cage will be ruined, and there will be no stopping Michael and Lucifer from extracting themselves.

“How do we stop them? We can’t let this happen,” Sam said.

“Balthazar managed to get a look at the text - he has agents inside Raphael’s forces. He has the spell to transport us there and back again. He gave them to me. I am going to go and find the angels that are opening the Gate and the Cage and stop them.”

“What do you want us for?” Dean asked sharply. “Sounds like you’ve got it.”

“I need you to go and keep the new vessels safe and prevent them from saying yes. If Michael or Lucifer manages to get a yes, the cracks in the Cage will open even faster, and there will be no way to stop it.”

Dean kicked the bedframe suddenly. “Why the hell didn’t you assholes keep a tighter rein on your weapons? And why the hell do you have a spell to open the Cage again? Just in case the first try at ending the world didn’t work?”

“Heaven is in disarray, which is why the weapons have not been as well guarded. As to the why, there was a way to throw Lucifer back into the Cage - there was obviously going to be the flip side to get him out again, or at least allow communication, as this is allowing.”

Sam stood and paced a few steps. “I don’t understand how do they have a bloodline there? Is there going to be versions of me and Dean running around?” He stopped and swallowed hard. “Do - do we have kids?” He looked like he’d been kicked again.

“I am not entirely sure of the details, but Balthazar has done reconnaissance and he assured me that the bloodline is the same one.”

Sam sat back down on the bed, hands in his hair. Dean’s face had gone pale and hard, and he ran a hand over his mouth.

“Shit.” He muttered. His mouth moved in a silent whisper, but Castiel was sure he had said the name Ben.

“Cas,” Sam’s voice was rough but steady. “What do we have to do?”

“I have the spell words and ingredients. We can leave as soon as you are ready.”

Dean grabbed his duffle and started shoving weapons and clothing in it. “Let’s do this then. Stop the Apocalypse. Again.” He stopped and said seriously. “And we are taking my car. I am not going into some weird reality without my baby again.”

Castiel nodded once and produced a green cloth shopping bag out of thin air. “If you insist on taking the car, we need to perform the ritual outside, with you inside of it.”

As the brothers scrambled to collect their belongings, they sent a volley of questions at the angel.

“Aren’t you coming with us?” Dean asked, retrieving the whiskey bottle and capping it.

“Yes. But I will need to set up the spell, and it would be best if you stay out of my way, inside the car.”

Sam paused in folding a shirt. “Can you give us the spell and components? Just in case something happens and you can’t get us back?”

Castiel hesitated. “Yes. Perhaps that is best.” He flicked his fingers at the pad of motel stationary on the table and then passed Sam several sheets of paper, filled with lists and symbols. “There is no time frame on the spell itself, but we do have to move quickly.”

“Got it,” Sam murmured, studying the notes.

“Hurry up, Sam. Let’s get this thing done.” Dean ripped open the door and headed for the Impala.

In short order, the brothers were inside the car, watching and Cas painted sigils and placed small piles or bundles of spell ingredients around the car.

“I haven’t seen anything like this before,” Sam muttered, attention split between the papers in his hand and Cas’s work outside.

Dean snorted. “Apparently it’s all just been declassified.” He glanced over at Sam. “But we can do it, if Cas isn’t around, right?”

Sam nodded slowly in reply. “As long as we can get the spell components. Hopefully Cas has some leftovers that we can use. Moonstones, Holy Oil, Echinacea…”

“Save the grocery list for later.” Dean shook his head and scrubbed his hand across his face. “Fuck. I’m going to deep fry every last one of those archangels myself. Didn’t they get the message last time?”

“We’ll stop it, Dean,” Sam said.

Before either of them could say anything else, the back door of the car opened and Cas slid in. Sam half turned in his seat, mouth open in a question, but Cas held up a hand to stop him. A stream of blurred Enhocian and Latin tumbled from his lips. Dean snarled and gripped the steering wheel with both hands. With a final harsh word, Cas slumped back in the seat.

Dean shifted and glanced out the windows. “So what’s suppos-”

A flash of brilliant white enveloped the car. Sam cried out in surprise and Dean cursed. But before they could take another breath, the light disappeared, leaving them in blackness.

“I have to leave you now. I will contact you as needed.” There was a rustle of wings, and Castiel disappeared.

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean spun around blinking through the negative images of everything the flash of light had left him with. But the angel was gone.

Sam scrubbed at his eyes and glanced at the backseat. “He left the bag of spell components, at least.”

Dean turned the key and started up the car. The familiar rumble of her engine went a long way to calm his nerves. “So how the hell are we supposed to find these poor bastards who were unfortunate enough to get our DNA?”

“No clue. Hopefully Cas dropped us off somewhere close to them.”

“This whole thing is more fucked up than our lives, and those should win an award for fucked up,” Dean muttered as drove down the street. It seemed more or less deserted, and he didn’t recognize any landmarks. “And he dropped us off in a crappy neighborhood.”

“It’s not like we’re high class, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, in the last weird reality we were,” was the muttered reply. He turned a corner and accelerated.

“Looks like no celeb level credit cards this ti- Look out!”

There was a small shape rushing up the center of the road at them, a blur of headlights and speed. Dean slammed on the breaks just as the motorcycle twisted and came to a stop, right in front of them.

“What the hell?” Dean muttered, and opened the door, with Sam a heartbeat behind.

*
Max was in the middle of rehearsing a speech with Pine when her cellphone rang. “Dammit, what now?” she muttered and stepped away from the table. “Max here.”

“Hey Maxie,” Alec replied, voice blurred by wind and his bike engine. “Just wanted to give you a warning that I’m five minutes out.”

She frowned. “What’s so important that you have to call me? I honestly don’t need to know until you get back - Mole has security and you know that.”

“Oh, I know that, I called him already.” The background noise swelled and seemed far too loud for just his bike. “He’s might come running to you, freaking out. Just wanted to give you a head’s up.”

“Why?” The phone creaked under her grip.

“Uh, I think I’ll just let you see for yourself.” He hung up.

She snapped shut the phone and turned as Mole stomped into the room. “That damn kid is bringing in two Ordinaries! Ordinaries! You gotta put a leash on him.”

“Did he say why?” She called over him, trotting down the steps.

Mole shook his head. “Only that you’d be interested. And that he now really wins for weirdness revolving around his life, whatever that means.”

He met her at the exit and they strode towards the front gate together. A small crowd of nocturnal transgenics showed up as well, drawn by the sense of threat and innate curiosity. More than a few hands lingered close to weapons in pockets and belts; eyes shifted from dark corners to the gate and back again, and nostrils snuffed the air.

Then Alec’s green bike appeared in the streetlights and the gates swung open, just as a behemoth of a car rounded the corner after him. It growled after the bike and Max felt the crowd around her shift into battle ready poses. There was something not right about the car. It was too clean, in far too good of condition. And a smell like ozone hung around it like a cloud; it burned her nostrils if she breathed too deeply. It pulled up next to Alec and stopped, but no one got out.

Alec got off his bike and left it to approach Max. His hands were low, palms open and out; his expression wavered between apologetic and terrified.

“What did you do this time?” she asked.

He frowned, and it bordered on a pout. “Why is it always my fault?”

“Because it usually is,” she said.

“Well, this time it’s not,” he shot back. He waved at the car, and the doors swung open.

The transgenics tensed as one and weapons glinted in the yellow street lights as they trained on the two men. Despite the fact that they came out with their hands up and with no visible weapons, strength and deadly skill rolled off them in waves. They were just as much soldiers and predators as the transgenics. And that was frightening.

They were imposing figures in the dark, broad shouldered and tall - one was almost as tall as Joshua, while the other stood about Alec’s height. He looked around the tense crowd and waggled one hand in a halfhearted wave.

“Hey fellas. Didn’t expect the welcome committee, but this is nice.” He glanced around with a smile, though his eyes were bouncing from weapon to weapon, calculating.

“Max, this is Sam and Dean Winchester,” Alec said. “They have some news that might be important.”

“It’s not really for public consumption,” Dean added.

Max narrowed her eyes and glanced between Alec and Dean. The smile they had plastered on their faces was far too similar for comfort. Sam’s face was still neutral, but he started to look increasingly more thoughtful as he looked at her. After a few more moments, she nodded.

“Mole, get these guys to work or to bed and have someone wake up Logan. Alec, bring your new playmates to my office.”

“Alright boss,” Mole said before bellowing orders at the crowd.

Alec sauntered over to her, the strangers still hovering near the massive car. “You have an office that you use?” he asked. “I thought you were just operating out of Command. And by operating I mean working, eating and sleeping.”

“Shut up,” she said. “Let’s go before anybody else wakes up.”

Alec rolled his eyes and waved over his shoulder. “Come on you two.”

A few minutes later, they were all situated in Max’s little office just off of Command. There wasn’t much room or furniture to be had, as Max had never bothered to really do much with it to begin with. She stood behind the desk, eyes narrowed as she studied the brothers, who were crammed on the tiny sofa Alec usually sprawled on when he got the chance. He was on a corner of the desk, one foot swinging back and forth absently. Logan stood by the door, both because there wasn’t anywhere else to stand, and to keep anyone from barging in.

There was no sound in the room. The Winchesters had already delivered their message of archangels and the end of the world.

“So how are we supposed to have these bloodlines if you’re from an alternate reality?” Logan wondered.

Sam shrugged delicately. “We’re not one hundred percent sure. All we know is that it’s a close enough reality that where ever you got the DNA it matches up. Close enough that Michael and Lucifer can use it.”

Alec lifted and eyebrow and stopped swinging his feet. “And what, they send you strange dreams?”

“They try to find your weakness and rip into you from there,” Dean replied. “Try to make promises and threats.”

“So what’s up with the car?”

“She’s mine, and very important,” Dean said without hesitation.

Sam rolled his eyes and then looked at Alec. “You said it was less about the car and more about having freedom to move around again, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he said, with a slightly guilty glance back at Max.

“There you go. Michael’s trying to show what you could have if you said yes.”

“Okay,” Alec said slowly. “Not quite seeing the logic in his approach, but alright. But it’s just been dreams like that, no words or anything.”

“He probably can’t do much more than that. He’s still in the Cage. Lucifer couldn’t get into my dreams until he was out of the cage.”

Max tossed her hands in the air, and paced behind the desk. “Okay, fine, this is the end of the world coming, whatever you say. But I haven’t had any dreams, and the end of the world for me is the possibility of the nation deciding to destroy TC, and these damn things.” She waved her hands. The runes had traced down her hand and looped around her fingers like a henna tattoo. “I don’t think your devil versus angel showdown actually has anything to do with us.”

Alec sat up suddenly. “Sam.”

“Yes?”

“No, not you,” Alec waved him away and turned to look at Max. “It makes sense. If we’ve got the bloodline, DNA, whatever, I’m the only one with this set anymore. Ben’s dead, but Sam’s still here. Well, in Canada at least.”

The brothers traded a succession of confused glances.

“Wait, you’re talking about another Sam, right, not my Sam,” Dean asked. His voice hardened a little. “And who’s Ben?”

“Ben was my clone. Never met the guy, but he went nuts and turned serial killer.” Alec glanced at Max and then looked down. “He’s dead now.”

“And this Sam?” Dean pressed.

“Max’s clone. We ran into her a while ago. She had a family, got tangled up with the Familiars, went up to Canada.”

“She goes by Angela, now,” Logan said. “I helped her set up the new identities.”

“That will help keep things clear, at least,” Dean muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“So you think that Angela is Lucifer’s new vessel, and not Max?” Sam wondered. “What would make the difference, if you’re clones?”

Alec smirked. “Maxie’s got special DNA, no junk or anything.”

“Too pure for Lucifer? That doesn’t even make sense,” Dean said, shaking his head.

Alec shrugged. “Don’t ask me. Angels and devils and the end of the world seem to be your thing. I just know the genetically enhanced side of things.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need to be genetically enhanced to be awesome,” Dean shot back.

Sam backhanded him across the shoulder, frowned and shook his head. “You’re also supposed to be the mature one here, bro.” He shifted his attention to Logan. “So you said that you helped Max’s twins with a new ID - do you know where she ended up?”

“I’m not sure. I originally sent her to Vancouver, but I did suggest they move around for a while and find someplace that fit.”

“But you have the original information, right? We can just track their movements, see if they moved, and where. Shouldn’t be that hard.” He glanced around the room. “You got a computer I can use?”

Alec reached behind him and grabbed the laptop off the desk. Sam took it carefully and booted it up. “Okay, let’s just hope the data bases work the same way here as they do back home,” he muttered.

From his position at the door way, Logan spoke up. “I have access to a more powerful and connected database, if that would be useful.”

Max shot a glance at him. “Are you sure?” she asked in an undertone

“They are talking about the end of the world. I doubt my extracurricular activities are going to bother them much,” he replied quietly

The brothers didn’t notice the exchange; Sam muttered at the computer and jogged a leg up and down as he punched buttons, and Dean leaned over to watch.

“This computer sucks, and so does the WiFi,” Sam said under his breath.

“Oh, poor Sammy, missing his own computer,” Dean smirked a little and then glanced up. “Why is everything so crappy here? I mean, I can understand a couple of neighborhoods, but I have been to Seattle before, and the whole city is a shithole in comparison to what I know.”

“Didn’t you ever hear of The Pulse?” Alec asked.

Sam looked up, brow creased in interest and confusion. “The Pulse?”

“Yeah, an electromagnetic pulse that some terrorist group set off in ’09. Wiped the whole computer based everything on the west coast of America. Screwed with the economy and everything big time.” Alec frowned as the Winchesters just shrugged. “You mean you didn’t have anything like that happen where and when you’re from?”

“Well, we had some shit go down in ’09, not gonna lie,” Dean said. “But nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

“You know the whole end of the world thing? Really started rocking then.”

Sam looked back down at the laptop, clearing his throat as he rapidly hit keys. “So, I don’t mean to complain, but the internet sucks here.”

“Did you miss the part about the Pulse?”

Logan said, “My place isn’t very far, I can get you set up with a better connection and more databases. I have all of the information about Sam - I mean Angela- archived somewhere safe, so you don’t have to start fresh.”

“Great,” Sam agreed. “How far is it?”

Alec snickered. “Ten minutes walk-”

“Let’s go and get this done,” Dean said, bounding to his feet.

“- through the sewers.”

“Lovely,” Sam said as he closed the laptop and put it back on the desk.

Dean groaned. “Man, Sammy, do you remember the last time we were in a sewer?”

“Yup.”

“Dragons, man, what the hell?”

“Bigger fish, Dean.”

Logan opened the door and motioned for the brothers to follow him. Max started to say something but stopped. Alec hopped off the desk and went for the door.

“I’ll go with them and make sure your man doesn’t get in trouble.”

“He’s not my man-” she started but bit back the rest of the sentence. “Thanks Alec. Just be careful yourself.”

He paused at the door and grinned back at her. “The world is ending and some big power celestial being wants my body, and I just met the guy that possibly gave DNA for my cocktail, and whose brother is almost as big as Josh. What could possibly go wrong?”

The trip through the sewers was uneventful, aside from a constant stream of complaints from Dean about having to be in the sewers in the first place, and having to leave his car unattended. Sam had started a conversation with Logan about the differences of the economy and politics in their timelines and more about the computer tech Logan had; from the line of questioning, Alec knew that Sam was trying to figure out just who and what Logan was to the transgenics. But he was clever about it, subtle. As someone who had undergone various interrogation techniques both in practice and in theory, Alec could appreciate Sam’s skill. Clearly he was used to questioning people and getting the answers he needed.

Apparently bored of sewer and all its downfalls, Dean turned his attention to Alec.

“It’s still weird to look at you, you know? Not really a mirror, but I remember seeing a very similar face, but it’s just weird.”

Alec turned with a raised eyebrow. “You’re the blunt one of the pair, aren’t you?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“This whole situation is weird for all of us. And we’ve lived weird our whole lives.”

“Tell me about it,” Dean smirked.

“Your life must be weird if you’re not freaking out about this whole thing. Transgenics tend to send every other Ordinary into a tizzy.”

“Not gonna lie, the science stuff wigs me out, but Sam and I have seen a bunch of crap that made us believe that the weird only gets weirder. Vampires were supposed to be extinct, but they weren’t, angels weren’t real, but actually they are… dragons are a thing…” He paused and shrugged. “A clone? Weird, but I can roll with it.”

“And you’ve stopped the world from ending before.”

“Couple of times, at least, with Eve.”

“But you’re okay with the whole genetic freaks thing?”

“Listen, kid,” Dean stopped, forcing Alec to pause and turn to face him. “The only people that are genetic freaks in this world were supposed to be me and Sammy, because the angels said we were part of some bloodline. Lucifer and Michael got stuck back in the cage, and it was supposed to end there. Well, somehow it didn’t, and you and this Angela are stuck with it now. And as crappy as your version of the world is, it doesn’t deserve to end.” He squinted through the dim light. “If nothing else, I have to make sure you outgrow this stage. Damn, was I really this baby faced? Wait, you have other DNA, I’ll blame it on that.”

“Oh, just stop, I’m not baby faced-”

Sam’s voice boomed down the tunnel. “Dean! Come on, I want out of here!”

“Yeah, yeah!” He looked back at Alec. “So, we gonna go and keep the world from burning?”

“If I can help you stop the Devil, I suppose I can do anything. Maybe even get Max to relax.”

Dean grinned. “I probably could get her to relax…”

“Don’t even try it. She’ll rip your head off. And Logan would bury the body.”

“Those two, huh?”

Alec shrugged. “They’re confused and too busy trying to save the world. But they could make it work. They’re both stubborn enough.”

“Dean!” Sam bellowed.

“Alright!”

*
At the house, Logan got his equipment up and running while Sam hovered just over his shoulder, twitching to do his own research. But as soon as he saw exactly how good Logan’s computer skills where, his attention turned to something similar to a five year old confronted with a new friend with a similar but more interesting toy. All he wanted to do was learn how to use it so he could be better. Or that was the image in Dean’s mind as the two computer geeks bent over the keyboards and monitors, words spilling out fast and eager as they punched through firewalls and security blocks.

Bored already, Dean plopped down on the couch, grimacing at the cloud of dust. Logan saw it.

“Sorry, I don’t stay here much. I’m more interested in keeping the computers running.”

“More power to you,” Alec said. “We need all the help we can get.” He walked across the room to a door and said, “I’m gonna grab some more of Joshua’s books, and anything else that he might have forgotten.”

Dean jumped up, eager for any excuse to move.“I’ll come along.”

“Watch out for rats,” Sam grinned.

“You watch out for rats,” Dean grumbled back and beat Alec down the stairs. “So what are we looking for?” he asked.

“Josh said there was a box of books that he had left behind - a wooden crate with oranges on the side or something. And then grab anything that looks paint related. Frames, brushes, canvas.”

Dean swept away cobwebs from a shelf and grimaced. “This place is less organized than Bobby’s.”

“Who?”

Dean pushed a dusty box full of rusty nails and bolts back on the shelf and turned. “He - son of a bitch!”

Cas had materialized about six inches in front of his nose.

“Hello, Dean.”

Alec spun around and then blurred towards Dean, body set in battle stance, but Dean threw out an arm to stop him. “Easy kid. He’s friendly.”

“How did he get down here like that?”

“It is a simple matter of dematerializing-”

“He’s an angel,” Dean replied before Cas could finish the rocket science answer.

Alec didn’t relax. “Didn’t you say they were the bastards that were trying to end the world? Why are you working with one?”

“Remember how I said we got yanked from our timeline into yours and how we knew about the new Apocalypse? Cas is on our side.”

“It is my brother Raphael and his followers that are attempting to free Michael and Lucifer.”

Alec relaxed slightly and eyed the angel. “So your family is probably just as big and messed up as mine?”

“That is likely,” Cas agreed, and then turned his attention to Dean. “We need to move. Demons have managed to get to this timeline. We cannot have that, not with Raphael’s forces moving here as well.”

“No shit,” Dean agreed. “Wait, how did you find us anyway? You didn’t call, and don’t we still have the rib scratches?”

“You are still hidden from angelic senses, but I was able to track Michael’s new vessel. His soul resonates on a similar frequency to yours and Sam’s, and Michael has been calling to him. I can follow that. As can other angels. I should mark him as well.”

Cas stepped forward, hand outstretched to Alec’s chest. With a move that almost too quick to see, Alec grabbed Cas’s arm, twisted it back and up, and drove the angel face first against a wall. “The hell are you trying to do to me?” he demanded.

Dean stared. He knew if Cas really wanted to, he could easily break Alec’s hold, but outside of supernatural things, he’d never seen anyone move that fast. Genetic enhancement was starting to make a lot of sense.

Cas took a deep breath and said, “I am trying to inscribe your ribs with sigils that will prevent other angels from tracking you. It will keep you safe.”

Alec growled deep in his chest, but let go of Cas’s arm. “Warn a guy next time.” He stepped back to stand next to Dean.

“So, wait,” Dean said as Cas turned and straightened his coat, “if you can follow the soul vibrations or whatever, can’t you track this chick and help us find her? I mean, Sam’s enjoying himself with the geekery upstairs, but it would save time.”

“I was more focused on keeping tabs on you and your brother. And I did attempt to track her, but I can find no trace of her.”

Dean scowled. “Another angel got to her, didn’t they?”

Cas shook his head. “I don’t think so. I haven’t sensed any of my brothers or sisters in this timeline yet. But the rules are not entirely the same here as back in our timeline-”

“Now you say that!” Dean snapped.

“And Lucifer maybe blocking her resonations. I can sense his influence more than Michael’s in this timeline.”

“Yeah well, Luci always seemed like more of the go getter than Michael.”

“That would be accurate,” Cas agreed.

There was the thud of boots on the wooden stair. “Cas? Is that you?” Sam asked as he ducked a low hanging strand of cobweb. He didn’t duck far enough, and it got tangled in his hair, but he didn’t notice.

“Hello, Sam,” Cas replied, a hint of impatience in his voice.

Dean frowned at him and turned to Sam. “Find anything?”

“Yeah. We got her latest address. Looks like she split from her husband though; he had a different address about two towns over.”

Alec winced. “That’s crappy. She was all about saving that guy and kid and keeping them together, despite everything that should keep them apart.”

“Trust me, sometimes it’s a hell of a struggle to do something like that,” Dean said, voice low and strained, but he quickly refocused. “So where are we going, Sammy?”

“Some little pinprick on the map, about a hundred miles north of Vancouver,” Sam replied with a grin.

“Fucking again?” Dean groaned. “Nothing good happened last time.”

“Well, I had a really massive house and a hot wife, so I didn’t mind it-”

“Are you two sure you’re not on drugs?” Alec wondered.

Cas said, “Neither of them are on any sort of narcotic or hallucinogenic. Now, let me inscribe the sigils to prevent other angels from tracking you.”

Dean held up a hand as Alec shrank back a little. “Hold on, Cas. How are you are going to get a hold of us if we’re all under the radar?”

“You all have your cell phones? I will use those as I always have.” Then, before Alec could protest or move, he pressed his hand against Alec’s ribs.

He grimaced and lifted a lip in a snarl, but didn’t move. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re kinda an asshole?”

“Dean and Sam have both made comments to the effect on various occasions.” His eyes twitched to the side and he glanced past the walls of the basement. “I have to go. There are forces building and shifting. I must meet with Balthazar.”

With a rush of wings, he disappeared.

“Damn feathered brained ass. He’s more trouble than he’s worth,” Dean muttered, kicking at a crate next to his foot.

Sam brushed back his hair, found the cobweb and grimaced before going back up the stairs. “Logan’s getting maps with all the current police barricades and what not, and he thinks he has several back up IDs we can modify for us to make sure we get through the check points.”

“How do you live like this?” Dean demanded as they followed Sam. “Check points, security checks on every block…”

“A lot of us don’t live through it,” Alec replied, voice thin. “That’s why we’re fighting like we are.”

“Good. Then you keep that, and remember it as something to fight for. You’ll need it.”

*
The blood sang in Angela’s veins just as loudly as the wind roared in her ears as she sped down the road. Her bike was in fine shape, and the air was cold and sharp, the sun cutting through racing clouds like blades of white gold. She still wasn’t entirely sure of her destination, but every time she came to a crossroads or corner, it was like a compass in her chest would tug towards some invisible point, her own version of true north. And either through luck or some other intervention, she had yet to meet any traffic, police check points or anything to slow her down. It was pure freedom to move.

She crossed the border into the States on a long straight highway, with no signs of any sort of border guard of authority figure. There was no sign of life. But the silver hum in her veins continued and soared higher with every passing mile, and she ignored the strangeness.

The road rolled on like a black ribbon, and she was half a sleep, lulled by the silver light and the hum of her bike when there was a flash of light, brighter and more consuming than lightning. Vision shot and terrified, she slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop. She braced for a concussion of thunder but it never came. Instead the world faded back towards reality, shadow and light still reversed in her shocked eyes.

Two figures stood in the center of the road, struggling. She kicked her bike back to life and sped towards them. They were two women, one in a business suit, her auburn hair falling out of its neatly kept bun; the other in boots and a leather jacket, face obscured by waves of dark hair. Even as she neared, the dark haired woman sprang forward, arm rising and falling, a silver blade flashing in the dim sunlight. It struck the auburn haired woman in the chest.

A second flash of light, blue white and whistling with power filled the air. Angela fought to recover her balance and slammed the bike to a stop again. As quickly as the light had appeared, it disappeared, leaving only the clouds and sun, and the soft growl of her bike’s engine.

The brunette bent and used the edge of the dead woman’s coat to clean her blade. Then she looked up and grinned at Angela.

“Well, look at you, princess!” She stepped over the fallen body, picked up the satchel from the ground and approached Angela, spinning the blade absently in her hand.

Angela didn’t move, her heart pounding wildly, eyes wide against the lingering effects of the light. The smell of ozone and sulfur filled the air, burning her nostrils with its strength. The woman reached the bike and propped one foot up on the front tire. Her smile didn’t fade or change from the wide, toothy grin of a predator.

“Not chatty or just shy, girl scout? Don’t worry; we’re going to be good friends.” She stuck the blade through her belt held out her hand. “I’m Meg.”

Angela felt a surge of anger burn through her; she didn’t need to sit there like a frightened child, she could act. She remembered who and what she was, remembered the confidence that the silver voice had given her. She sat up straight and glared at Meg. “Get out of my way, or I’ll run you over.”

Meg lifted her hands in surrender. “No need to get hasty, princess. I’m just here to talk, and to help.”

“Help like you helped her?” Her eyes flicked to the body crumbled in the road.

Meg glanced over her shoulder and shrugged. “Who, wings over there? She had a spell I needed to get here. I persuaded her to help me. But she would have killed me if I hadn’t got her first.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Angela replied, shifting her weight onto the balls of her feet, ready to spring.

“No, no, princess, you don’t get it! I know who you are, know that you’re in this fairy tale. You’re the glass slipper, here. So important, and just the right fit.”

“What?”

Meg rolled her eyes. “How do you get by without cultural references like this? I know a guy like that - utterly clueless.”

“I understand the Cinderella reference. I just don’t get what that has to do with anything.”

“Put it this way, princess. I’ll call you Cinderella because you’re going from nothing to power, but you’re really the glass slipper, too. Because my Prince is coming along and is looking for the perfect fit. And it’s you. He’s the Morning Star. He’s my father and my king. And he’s coming back.” Her expression morphed into something close to ecstasy. “I can’t believe it’s happening, that there is another chance…” Then her face darkened and she added, “And it will put Crowley back in his place, the jumped up Limey prick.”

“You’re insane.”

Meg ignored her. “You’re special, sister. So very special. You are going to burn with a white light of power and conquer the world. And I’m here to help.” She reached into her pocket. “Here, you’ll need this.”

Angela stared at the little leather bag. “What is this? And why should I listen to a word you’re saying?”

“It’s a hex bag. It’ll keep angels, demons and everything in between off your tail. And you haven’t had a problem with listening to me until now. Why stop?”

She kicked the bike to life again. “I’m going. Get out of my way or I will run you over.”

Meg didn’t move. “Where are you going?”

Angela started to answer but had to stop. She had no idea where she was supposed to end up only that she was going the right way.

“He’s been talking to you, hasn’t he? Whispers, dreams, suggestions?” Angela’s expression was enough of an answer for Meg. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m just here to help. And trust me, the first stop we need to make is in Arizona. Near the Grand Canyon.”

The silver voice didn’t say anything against it, and Angela suddenly knew she was on the right track. “Alright, fine. What’s there?”

Meg grinned again. “Some more friends.” She took her foot off the wheel. “You gonna let me ride, Cinderella?”

“Come on then.”

Meg slithered onto the bike behind Angela, pressed close. “Hmm, girl, we need to get you ready for the ball. But first we have to get to Arizona.”

The smell of sulfur didn’t fade, and there was something odd about the body pressed up behind her; the pulse wasn’t right for a human, or a transgenic. But Angela decided to ignore it. Something in her told her that Meg was alright, that she should trust her. The silver voice did not complain.

They roared off down the road, swerving to miss the body of the auburn haired angel. Angela swore she saw scorch marks on the pavement, but she was moving too fast by then to care.

TBC

Chapter 1
Chapter 2b