jimmyhkim21 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jimmyhkim21) wrote2009-12-14 09:16 pm
jimmyhkim21) wrote2009-12-14 09:16 pm
Entry tags:
Apocalypse Reboot
Title: Apocalypse Reboot, Part IV
Genre: gen, case-fic, crossover
Pairing: none
Rating: R for language and violence
Warning: Crossover with characters from Good Omens.
Summary: The Winchesters discover the plural term for the Apocalypse. They are not amused. Neither are Crowley and Aziraphale who must help them stop all of God's creation from becoming undone.
Disclaimer: 127.5% fiction.
Dean violently woke up in pain. It was as if something had slammed his head against the headboard.
As it turned out, something had. Or, more specifically, someone.
Sam firmly cuffed Dean on the head for the second time before yelling, “Wake up! You have got to see this!”
Dean sat up, glaring at his brother. “What the fuck?”
Sam’s reply was to turn on the television.
“I am reporting live from Grand Canyon. Or what used to be the Grand Canyon. Believe it or not, the flatlands behind me used to be one of the most beautiful…”
Dean was wide awake by the end of the newcast, which was followed by another regarding the sudden disappearance of the greatest natural wonder in the United States.
“Fuck this noise,” Dean snarled as he buttoned up his shirt. “I’m gonna kill whoever did this!”
“That would be Bruce,” Sam said.
Dean’s eyes widened in understanding. “Oh shit, shit shit – he’s figuring it out?”
“Obviously,” Sam said, pointing at the television screen.
“So, with each page he’s … what? Erasing a natural wonder?”
“Or doing a Copperfield on a parking lot in New Jersey; we don’t know,” Sam countered, frustration coloring his voice. “The reality is we can’t take the risk of waiting around for him to figure out a second page.”
“Jesus,” Dean whispered. “Okay, no more Mr. Nice Guy. We’re going to grab the goddamn thing today.”
Crowley buried his face in his hands as the voice droned on.
“So, the Great Reckoning has begun, Crowley! Rejoice! For our time, though, is no more, retribution and revenge will be ours!”
“Yes, of course,” Crowley said dully. “I am very enthused by our progress.”
"Is it not grand that a mere pitiful human – a rat – would undo all of God’s creation? Is that not the greatest of ironies?”
“The greatest,” Crowley echoed in a hollow voice. “Excellent, in fact.”
“Crowley, why do you sound disappointed? I am beginning to wonder about your commitment to our cause.”
“No doubts here, my lord Baalberith,” Crowley answered without much enthusiasm. “Just that I am a bit tired with all the work I've done. I hate to speak ill of my compatriots, but some of them are quite exhausting. Vexing, to be honest.”
There was a pregnant pause before the voice intoned hesitantly, “I see. Well … things are very hectic down here, and we did not have enough time to vet the list of volunteers. So, there is a slight chance some of your fellow helpers are not the sharpest of the lot.”
“I understand, of course, and I will make do. You can count on me.”
“Good to hear, Crowley.”
The iTouch reverted back to what it was piping out before Hell interrupted.
Welcome to the jungle, we've got fun and games…
Crowley sighed in relief. At least Baalberith hadn't changed his playlist. Crowley adored Guns N' Roses. They were guaranteed to annoy anyone within earshot, no matter which country he was in.
The demon stood up from the sofa, dusted off imaginary specks of dirt from his suit and made his way from the hotel restaurant to Aziraphale’s room. In spite of being on opposite sides of practically everything, the angel was a breath of relief when it came to dealing with whatever was at hand. Or ready to explode on a moment’s notice.
He was about to press the button on the elevator when a familiar crawling sensation froze him. He tucked his hand into his breast pocket and pulled a small snake that was so poisonous, a single bite should send a human into spasms of agony. Annoyed by the sudden change in temperature and comfort, the viper lashed out and bit Crowley. It took less than a moment for the snake to die.
Crowley peered at the dead creature and realized it looked familiar. His iTouch had the same colors and pattern on its shell. He shoved the thing back in his pocket and decided that he needed to visit Aziraphale now.
He was greeted with horrified screams even as he materialized in the angel’s room. Aziraphale looked at Crowley suspiciously.
“It’s not me,” Crowley snapped. “I think our Bruce boy is up at it again.”
“Oh dear,” Aziraphale whispered.
Bruce studied the ceiling, willing himself to go back to sleep. It didn't happen at five or at five-fifteen.
Fuck it, he thought and got dressed. He went online to locate the nearest Starbucks which was only two blocks away. The walk was quite nippy but he didn't care. After purchasing a muffin and a mocha from a decidedly creepy-looking barista, Bruce returned to his room, eager to get working on the book again.
And this time, it was a lot easier to decipher Elliot's work.
This looks like … a ‘F’ maybe? And that … a ‘Y’?”
“Malloy, falloy, say hey, ahoy?”
Bruce rested his very weary head on his arms and slowly moaned. “Lady, I haven't a fucking clue what you were putting in your mead, but that must have been some good shit.”
If he’d checked inside his jacket pocket right then, he would’ve been greeted by a small harmless looking spider, and wouldn't have given it much thought as he brushed it away. However, Bruce would've been much more cautious if he knew that his cell had been transformed to a brown recluse.
Looking for a more comfortable surrounding, the venomous spider leisurely crawled out of the jacket and scuttled into an air vent.
As Bruce wondered whether he should continue or not, he heard screams echo out in the hall.
I see people are starting to party earlier and earlier. Maybe I should join them.
He got up and opened the door to be greeted by the sight of two grown men running down the hall, still in their bedclothes. They were screaming on top of their lungs with their arms wildly waving over their heads. Bruce looked down the other way and noted nothing special.
Someone must have put one on them. Or maybe spiked their morning coffee or something.
The elevator rang and Jason stepped out, yawning. He looked down the hallway and immediately spotted Bruce. “Oh, hey, are you feeling all right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Bruce asked weakly.
“I heard from the front desk that some joker spiked the coffee pots with a mild hallucinogenic. It’s a zoo in the lobby.”
Bruce sighed and shook his head. “Okay, that sounds terrible but now it makes sense.”
“Do you want me to get anything for you? You sounded peaked yesterday.”
Bruce smiled and shook his head. “No, I feel better. I think I just needed some extra sleep.”
“Well, if you really are feeling better, you’re more than welcome to join us.”
His previous unease all but forgotten, Bruce nodded quickly; for some reason he didn’t want to be alone. “Sure, let me get dressed.”
In his eagerness, Bruce didn’t see the look of frustrated annoyance flitter by Jason’s face. He stormed through his closet, pulled down a flannel shirt and a pair of worn jeans. Then, as an afterthought, he grabbed his bomber jacket and laptop. For reasons he didn’t understand, Bruce wanted to stay networked with his friends.
As he suspected, Jason and company had gotten one of the penthouse suites overlooking San Francisco. The view was spectacular, but the breakfast spread on the dining table was even more awesome. Fruits, various breads and pastries, and hot drinks ranging from tea to cocoa littered the table from corner to corner.
Ash strolled out of a room, wearing a silk nightie and a robe that didn’t cover much. She smiled and blew a kiss to Bruce. “Someone’s been a very busy boy,” she drawled, pouring out a cup of coffee.
Bruce flushed. Ash had made it sound like he’d been at it all night with three she-boys and a goat. “I was up early,” he muttered around a mouthful of hot, flaky croissant. “So I read a little.”
Jason exchanged knowing looks with Kevin, and Ash leaned over to kiss Bruce on his forehead, giving him an eyeful of her generous bosom. “That’s my boy,” she said before sitting on a sofa and flipping through Vogue.
“We were worried you’d come down with something,” Kevin said. “We heard yesterday there’s a nasty bug floating about.”
Bruce looked at Kevin. “Really? Man, this con’s turning into a nightmare.”
“I wonder if it hasn’t been canceled, especially considering the fiasco with the coffee,” Kevin agreed. “I think I’ll go downstairs and see if they’re curtailing some of the events. It would be disappointing, but I wouldn’t be surprised.”
With that Kevin waved goodbye and left. Jason studied the packet Miles had given him and said, “This Deathmatch sounds quite exciting. How many participants?”
“Sixteen at the start,” Bruce answered. “It’s awesome.”
“How long does it take?” Ash asked.
“One hour, at most. Speed is key.”
“Cool,” Jason said. “If it’s still on the menu, I think I’ll watch. Maybe make the stakes more interesting.”
“Um … gambling isn’t allowed,” Bruce said hesitantly, “not that the issue ever came up.”
Jason grinned. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
Ash added,” Don’t mind him. Jason loves to take risks, so it’s easy for him to think of things in gambling terms.”
“Oh, I see,” Bruce said weakly. Suddenly the uneasy feeling he had whenever he hung around with them returned and with a vengeance. He looked out the window, wishing he’d never accepted Jason’s invitation to join.
“You still look tired,” Ash offered as a truce. “Why don’t you go back to your room and take a nap? I’m sure your friends will contact you if they need you downstairs. And we’ll call you if Kevin comes back with something new.”
Bruce barely hid his sigh of relief and with a brief ‘thank you’ he left quickly. Ash watched the door close and looked at Jason whose eyes turned red.
“He’s going to be such a bad, bad boy,” she said, her own eyes turning blacker than the darkest sin of the human heart. “And I can just eat him up for it.”
“We should roast him first,” Jason said. “You never know what these rats pick up nowadays.”
Ash laughed: a blithe happy sound that had not a trace of edge or hatred.
Crowley stared wide-eyed at Dean who was completely occupied with wrapping bandages around his left ankle. Before he could give a word of advice, Aziraphale materialized next to him, looking slightly rumpled.
Bobby looked up at the angel then turned his attention back to the severed head of the serpent that almost killed Dean. “It's getting worse.”
“I’m guessing the time for tact is over,” Crowley said. He turned to Aziraphale and muttered, “I’m sorry, Angel, but it has to stop, now.”
Sam stood up, checked his gun, then loaded a fresh clip. His lips were drawn so tightly that they were white. His eyes were burning though, even as he studied Dean’s pale and sweaty features. “You’re going to be okay?”
Dean nodded. “Yeah, that was close, though.”
Sam closed his eyes and took deep breaths in order to calm himself.
Aziraphale whispered to Crowley, "What happened?"
"Dean's cell turned into some kind of a reptile," Crowley answered. "It bit him. Luckily, Sam knew a way to stop the poison from spreading. I managed to reverse whatever permanent damage that could have occurred."
"So, we go charging?" Aziraphale asked.
Crowley shook his head. "Sam called Miles. Turns out Bruce is downstairs in one of the meeting rooms."
Aziraphale sighed and loosened the knot of his tie. He then unbuttoned the cuffs and rolled up his sleeves.
"What do you think you're doing?" Crowley asked.
"Just getting ready, I guess," Aziraphale answered. "It's been forever since I've had a physical confrontation with someone from Below."
"Oh," Crowley said softly. He took Aziraphale's tie and rolled it up before pocketing it.
"What are you going to do?" Aziraphale looked worriedly at his companion.
"I'm not sure," Crowley admitted, shame-faced and not a little afraid. "I didn't think it would end up this way."
"It is," Sam said brusquely. "We're going now."
Bobby took the worn backpack that was hanging from his wheelchair's handle and opened it. He pulled out small containers of lighting fluid and tossed them to Dean and Sam along with lighters. "Only way to be sure," he said. He then took out hand grenades and studied them.
"Can't use those," Deans said. "No guarantee the entire book's going to be destroyed. We're in trouble even if half a page survives."
"Besides, fire purifies," Sam added.
Bobby nodded and put the hand grenades on the coffee table. He then systematically began checking all his arsenal.
"What are you doing?" Dean asked. "You can't think you're going with us."
"Like hell I'm not," Bobby said. "I might not be able to run down demons but I can still rip through an exorcism."
Sam wanted to disagree but a quelling look from Dean kept him quiet. He looked at the man who had such an integral part of his life; it was then Sam realized that his love for the surrogate father dictate that he must respect Bobby's wishes, even if it meant he was going to his death.
Clamping down on the desire to shove Bobby into a closet, Sam looked at Dean who was dry-eyed and focused on the task ahead. But the slight trembling in Dean's hands told Sam how affected his brother was about Bobby's choice.
They got into the elevator when Crowley shook his head. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I can't. I just can't do this."
Aziraphale patted him on his shoulder. "Don't worry. Go. You couldn't fight this battle anyway, Crowley. It isn't yours to begin with."
Crowley dared not raise his face to see if the humans in the compartment agreed with him. Instead, he just nodded and disappeared.
"What would've happened if he went against hell's plans?" Sam asked.
"It's not that he's scared, exactly," Aziraphale answered. "You see, they're family to him. And though you can hate and despise your family ... it's impossible for Crowley to so openly betray them. Without Hell, he'd be lost, Samuel. In a way, it'd be like Falling again."
Aziraphale glanced at the humans and was surprised to note how accepting they were of Crowley's choice. In fact, Sam looked like he understood. Only too well.
The elevator doors opened to an vacant lobby.
Dean gave a crooked smile and said, "Time to nut up or shut up."
Sam rolled his eyes and gave a plaintive sigh. "I fucking hate that movie."
"That's because you wanted to see Time Traveler's Wife instead," Dean quipped.
"Will you two geniuses just give it a rest?" Bobby growled. "Jesus, were you this bad in Detroit?!"
Aziraphale missed Crowley very, very much.
Since the meeting was having a twenty-minute break, Bruce decided to work on yet another page. It took him only ten minutes this time. With a wild grin, he whispered, "Handy, dandy, bye all, Nancy."
For a moment he felt a slight tingle. Then he heard Kevin, Jason, Ash and few others in the room sneeze in unison. He glanced at his friends and saw them throwing confused looks at each other. Bruce then caught one of the contestants staring at Ash with lust and unabashed awe. He had to quell the desire to bonk the guy's head with his cell and yell, "Run!"
Smiling at the thought, he returned to his book when the door burst open and rejects from a Mad Max movie rushed in. One of the guys took only a moment to scan the room before spotting him. The wolfish smile on the man's face loosened something in Bruce's bowels and he felt the sudden need to use the toilet.
"Hey!" the man shouted, "name's Dean! And we need that fucking book!"
The giant behind him looked both dismayed and yet completely unsurprised by the outburst. Then, to make the entire scene even more surreal, a man in a wheelchair came up from behind them along with someone who looked like a pediatrician nearing retirement.
It only took a moment for Bruce to realize that though the face was unfamiliar, the voice wasn't. Dean sounded exactly like the kid Miles had introduced only yesterday.
"Well, well, well," Ash drawled out as she stood up. "If it isn't the Four Musketeers."
Bruce decided it was time to step in and end the madness. "I don't know what in hell is going on, but you guys better stop before I call the police!"
Ash shoved him into his chair. "Shut the fuck up, child." She turned to the men and said, "Sorry, he is rude but then children are invariably."
Dean ignored her completely and looked at Bruce. “We need that book you’ve got in your hands. We don’t want to hurt anyone else. We just want that goddamn book.”
Bruce was about to cheerfully give it to the armed robbers when Ash slapped him hard enough to scramble him out of his seat.
“Stay,” she drawled then added, “good dog.” With a beatific smile Ash returned her attention to the men. “Where are my manners? Everyone calls me Ash, but you may know me as Ashtoreth.”
“Goddess of war and lust?” Dean commented, paling badly. He noticed the stunned look from his companions and Ash. Irate, he yelled, “What? I read too!”
Bruce had enough. He checked his pockets to find his cell had disappeared. Ash or Ashtoreth, depending on the preference of psychosis, smiled and raised her hand. She narrowed her eyes and whispered hissing words.
Nothing happened.
Ash’s face whitened in anger as she received surprised looks from Jason, and Kevin who raised his own hand and whispered another bizarre string of sounds.
As before, nothing happened.
Dean, who looked poised for blows, slowly uncoiled and looked at the giant behind him. “What’s going on?”
The response was a shrug and a shake of the shaggy head. The con participants who had crowded against the walls watched the entire thing unfold with growing curiosity.
Kevin snarled and concentrated harder to no avail. There was a titter behind him then a male voice piped out, “Dude, you suck.”
Bruce realized then everyone else thought this entire thing was staged. Only he knew that the shit had hit the fan and was currently painting the walls. In the following moments it became common knowledge. Kevin whirled around to face the person who had mocked him. He spotted the smirking face and marched towards the guy. On his way, he grabbed a laptop, which he used to smash open the man’s head. Blood, brain matter, and bits of bone flew everywhere.
The screaming began immediately.
Kevin’s murderous act triggered the robbers to rush into the room. Ash turned to the crowd and shouted, “Kill them!”
Seven people broke from the huddling mass and charged. Bruce snapped up the book from the table and tried to run for it. Ash grabbed him by the back of his neck and bounced his head against the table twice. Bruce slid to the ground, unable to focus on anything save the pain raining down from his head to his body.
Ash tried to grab him again but Dean slammed into her, and the two tangled over the table and onto the floor. The tall guy looked at the man in the wheelchair and shouted, “Bobby, what’s going on?!”
“The jackass must have read something from the book and fucked something up!” was the furious answer.
“Sam, some help here?!” Dean roared when he was tackled by two more people besides Ashtoreth.
Sam charged in and took down two men on his way to Dean. It was amazing to watch: he swung once, knocking down one guy and gave a front kick that slammed the second attacker over a table and onto the wall. That guy was completely out for the count. The first one rolled on the floor, screaming while cradling his jaw.
One of Ashtoreth’s friends tackled the crippled thief and the two rolled to the floor as the wheelchair collapsed under them. They began immediately exchange blows, and though the older one was handicapped, it was obvious the disability affected only his legs as he had no problems parrying blows while kidney punching the guy on top of him.
Dean managed to wriggle free from three men and grabbed Ashtoreth by her throat. She gave a scream of inhuman hatred and clawed at his hands as he slammed her against the floor until her eyes had a dazed look.
The door to the convention blew open and a man looking like an out-of-luck tax accountant ran in. He shouted, “Dean! Sam!” before grabbing the man off of Bobby. “I can’t…”
“We know!” Dean yelled back. He whirled around, headbutted a man, and then just for hell of it he kicked the guy between the legs.
Bruce looked at the mayhem unfolding around him then at the book. Suddenly, a shadow covered him and he slowly looked up in mortal fear. It was the pediatrician. The man’s face was freckled with blood but the gore didn’t seem to affect him at all. He kneeled down and gently said,
“The book has to be destroyed. It’s evil, Mr. Lee. Look around – this is all happening because of that book.”
“How?”
“Some things were never meant to be seen by human eyes. Please, Mr. Lee, let’s put an end to all this.”
As if to emphasize the man’s point, the tax accountant flew over Bruce’s head, followed by a woman armed with a cordless mouse and an UGG boot.
Bruce shoved the book at the man’s hands. “Jesus, stop this!”
The stranger smiled, it was both beautiful and sad. “Thank you.” He scrambled away, holding the book tightly against his chest.
“Stop him!” Ashtoreth screamed shrilly. “Stop the angel!”
Bruce felt a small frisson of energy when he let go of a book. It was as if he had suddenly snapped awake from a drug-induced fuzzy headedness. His first thought was angel? What angel? How fucked up is she, exactly?
The pediatrician was tackled from behind but the tax accountant came to his rescue, allowing the pudgy man to slither out from under the dog-pile. Dean rushed to him, pulling out a small tin of what looked like a lighter fluid.
The pediatrician gave a hail mary pass, which worked. Dean caught the book, doused it, and then tried to set it on fire with a lighter. Unfortunately, he didn’t succeed as Jason bit him on the joint between the neck and shoulder. Blood spurted out, garishly painting both Jason's and his victim's faces.
“Dean!” screamed Sam who came charging at top speed even with a fully-grown man wrapped around his left leg, actually gnawing at his calf through his jeans.
Sam punched Jason on both his kidneys before ripping him off of Dean. The injured man toddled once before regaining his balance and his focus. He relit the lighter and this time he was successful. With a triumphant, “Fuck you!” to his attackers, presumably, Dean lit the book. It exploded but the wounded psycho held on, even with the flames dangerously licking close to his fingers.
This wanton destruction ended the various gladiator duels in the room. Ash, Jason, Kevin, and their comrades froze as they witnessed the book turn into dust.
Dean looked up with what Bruce could only describe as a shit-eating grin and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, Elvis has left the building."
Ash launched herself wordlessly but was stymied by what seemed like an invisible wall. Bruce looked around and spotted the pediatrician who had, in the few seconds he wasn't being watched, sprouted wings. And not like Victoria's Secret angel wings either. No, these suckers were huge; easily fifteen feet across and at least seven feet in height. And they were so bright that Bruce found it impossible to stare for long.
"Oh..." the man said as he noticed his new appendages. "Oh, I see. Well." His face scrunched up in deep thought before saying, "I guess the Bering Sea will have to do."
And that was all the warning everybody in the room got before Ash and her maniacal group evaporated into thin air. Bruce was about to congratulate the man when the world turned soft grey before his eyes.
Then, all was peaceful black.
Part III * Conclusion
Genre: gen, case-fic, crossover
Pairing: none
Rating: R for language and violence
Warning: Crossover with characters from Good Omens.
Summary: The Winchesters discover the plural term for the Apocalypse. They are not amused. Neither are Crowley and Aziraphale who must help them stop all of God's creation from becoming undone.
Disclaimer: 127.5% fiction.
Dean violently woke up in pain. It was as if something had slammed his head against the headboard.
As it turned out, something had. Or, more specifically, someone.
Sam firmly cuffed Dean on the head for the second time before yelling, “Wake up! You have got to see this!”
Dean sat up, glaring at his brother. “What the fuck?”
Sam’s reply was to turn on the television.
“I am reporting live from Grand Canyon. Or what used to be the Grand Canyon. Believe it or not, the flatlands behind me used to be one of the most beautiful…”
Dean was wide awake by the end of the newcast, which was followed by another regarding the sudden disappearance of the greatest natural wonder in the United States.
“Fuck this noise,” Dean snarled as he buttoned up his shirt. “I’m gonna kill whoever did this!”
“That would be Bruce,” Sam said.
Dean’s eyes widened in understanding. “Oh shit, shit shit – he’s figuring it out?”
“Obviously,” Sam said, pointing at the television screen.
“So, with each page he’s … what? Erasing a natural wonder?”
“Or doing a Copperfield on a parking lot in New Jersey; we don’t know,” Sam countered, frustration coloring his voice. “The reality is we can’t take the risk of waiting around for him to figure out a second page.”
“Jesus,” Dean whispered. “Okay, no more Mr. Nice Guy. We’re going to grab the goddamn thing today.”
Crowley buried his face in his hands as the voice droned on.
“So, the Great Reckoning has begun, Crowley! Rejoice! For our time, though, is no more, retribution and revenge will be ours!”
“Yes, of course,” Crowley said dully. “I am very enthused by our progress.”
"Is it not grand that a mere pitiful human – a rat – would undo all of God’s creation? Is that not the greatest of ironies?”
“The greatest,” Crowley echoed in a hollow voice. “Excellent, in fact.”
“Crowley, why do you sound disappointed? I am beginning to wonder about your commitment to our cause.”
“No doubts here, my lord Baalberith,” Crowley answered without much enthusiasm. “Just that I am a bit tired with all the work I've done. I hate to speak ill of my compatriots, but some of them are quite exhausting. Vexing, to be honest.”
There was a pregnant pause before the voice intoned hesitantly, “I see. Well … things are very hectic down here, and we did not have enough time to vet the list of volunteers. So, there is a slight chance some of your fellow helpers are not the sharpest of the lot.”
“I understand, of course, and I will make do. You can count on me.”
“Good to hear, Crowley.”
The iTouch reverted back to what it was piping out before Hell interrupted.
Welcome to the jungle, we've got fun and games…
Crowley sighed in relief. At least Baalberith hadn't changed his playlist. Crowley adored Guns N' Roses. They were guaranteed to annoy anyone within earshot, no matter which country he was in.
The demon stood up from the sofa, dusted off imaginary specks of dirt from his suit and made his way from the hotel restaurant to Aziraphale’s room. In spite of being on opposite sides of practically everything, the angel was a breath of relief when it came to dealing with whatever was at hand. Or ready to explode on a moment’s notice.
He was about to press the button on the elevator when a familiar crawling sensation froze him. He tucked his hand into his breast pocket and pulled a small snake that was so poisonous, a single bite should send a human into spasms of agony. Annoyed by the sudden change in temperature and comfort, the viper lashed out and bit Crowley. It took less than a moment for the snake to die.
Crowley peered at the dead creature and realized it looked familiar. His iTouch had the same colors and pattern on its shell. He shoved the thing back in his pocket and decided that he needed to visit Aziraphale now.
He was greeted with horrified screams even as he materialized in the angel’s room. Aziraphale looked at Crowley suspiciously.
“It’s not me,” Crowley snapped. “I think our Bruce boy is up at it again.”
“Oh dear,” Aziraphale whispered.
Bruce studied the ceiling, willing himself to go back to sleep. It didn't happen at five or at five-fifteen.
Fuck it, he thought and got dressed. He went online to locate the nearest Starbucks which was only two blocks away. The walk was quite nippy but he didn't care. After purchasing a muffin and a mocha from a decidedly creepy-looking barista, Bruce returned to his room, eager to get working on the book again.
And this time, it was a lot easier to decipher Elliot's work.
This looks like … a ‘F’ maybe? And that … a ‘Y’?”
“Malloy, falloy, say hey, ahoy?”
Bruce rested his very weary head on his arms and slowly moaned. “Lady, I haven't a fucking clue what you were putting in your mead, but that must have been some good shit.”
If he’d checked inside his jacket pocket right then, he would’ve been greeted by a small harmless looking spider, and wouldn't have given it much thought as he brushed it away. However, Bruce would've been much more cautious if he knew that his cell had been transformed to a brown recluse.
Looking for a more comfortable surrounding, the venomous spider leisurely crawled out of the jacket and scuttled into an air vent.
As Bruce wondered whether he should continue or not, he heard screams echo out in the hall.
I see people are starting to party earlier and earlier. Maybe I should join them.
He got up and opened the door to be greeted by the sight of two grown men running down the hall, still in their bedclothes. They were screaming on top of their lungs with their arms wildly waving over their heads. Bruce looked down the other way and noted nothing special.
Someone must have put one on them. Or maybe spiked their morning coffee or something.
The elevator rang and Jason stepped out, yawning. He looked down the hallway and immediately spotted Bruce. “Oh, hey, are you feeling all right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Bruce asked weakly.
“I heard from the front desk that some joker spiked the coffee pots with a mild hallucinogenic. It’s a zoo in the lobby.”
Bruce sighed and shook his head. “Okay, that sounds terrible but now it makes sense.”
“Do you want me to get anything for you? You sounded peaked yesterday.”
Bruce smiled and shook his head. “No, I feel better. I think I just needed some extra sleep.”
“Well, if you really are feeling better, you’re more than welcome to join us.”
His previous unease all but forgotten, Bruce nodded quickly; for some reason he didn’t want to be alone. “Sure, let me get dressed.”
In his eagerness, Bruce didn’t see the look of frustrated annoyance flitter by Jason’s face. He stormed through his closet, pulled down a flannel shirt and a pair of worn jeans. Then, as an afterthought, he grabbed his bomber jacket and laptop. For reasons he didn’t understand, Bruce wanted to stay networked with his friends.
As he suspected, Jason and company had gotten one of the penthouse suites overlooking San Francisco. The view was spectacular, but the breakfast spread on the dining table was even more awesome. Fruits, various breads and pastries, and hot drinks ranging from tea to cocoa littered the table from corner to corner.
Ash strolled out of a room, wearing a silk nightie and a robe that didn’t cover much. She smiled and blew a kiss to Bruce. “Someone’s been a very busy boy,” she drawled, pouring out a cup of coffee.
Bruce flushed. Ash had made it sound like he’d been at it all night with three she-boys and a goat. “I was up early,” he muttered around a mouthful of hot, flaky croissant. “So I read a little.”
Jason exchanged knowing looks with Kevin, and Ash leaned over to kiss Bruce on his forehead, giving him an eyeful of her generous bosom. “That’s my boy,” she said before sitting on a sofa and flipping through Vogue.
“We were worried you’d come down with something,” Kevin said. “We heard yesterday there’s a nasty bug floating about.”
Bruce looked at Kevin. “Really? Man, this con’s turning into a nightmare.”
“I wonder if it hasn’t been canceled, especially considering the fiasco with the coffee,” Kevin agreed. “I think I’ll go downstairs and see if they’re curtailing some of the events. It would be disappointing, but I wouldn’t be surprised.”
With that Kevin waved goodbye and left. Jason studied the packet Miles had given him and said, “This Deathmatch sounds quite exciting. How many participants?”
“Sixteen at the start,” Bruce answered. “It’s awesome.”
“How long does it take?” Ash asked.
“One hour, at most. Speed is key.”
“Cool,” Jason said. “If it’s still on the menu, I think I’ll watch. Maybe make the stakes more interesting.”
“Um … gambling isn’t allowed,” Bruce said hesitantly, “not that the issue ever came up.”
Jason grinned. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
Ash added,” Don’t mind him. Jason loves to take risks, so it’s easy for him to think of things in gambling terms.”
“Oh, I see,” Bruce said weakly. Suddenly the uneasy feeling he had whenever he hung around with them returned and with a vengeance. He looked out the window, wishing he’d never accepted Jason’s invitation to join.
“You still look tired,” Ash offered as a truce. “Why don’t you go back to your room and take a nap? I’m sure your friends will contact you if they need you downstairs. And we’ll call you if Kevin comes back with something new.”
Bruce barely hid his sigh of relief and with a brief ‘thank you’ he left quickly. Ash watched the door close and looked at Jason whose eyes turned red.
“He’s going to be such a bad, bad boy,” she said, her own eyes turning blacker than the darkest sin of the human heart. “And I can just eat him up for it.”
“We should roast him first,” Jason said. “You never know what these rats pick up nowadays.”
Ash laughed: a blithe happy sound that had not a trace of edge or hatred.
Crowley stared wide-eyed at Dean who was completely occupied with wrapping bandages around his left ankle. Before he could give a word of advice, Aziraphale materialized next to him, looking slightly rumpled.
Bobby looked up at the angel then turned his attention back to the severed head of the serpent that almost killed Dean. “It's getting worse.”
“I’m guessing the time for tact is over,” Crowley said. He turned to Aziraphale and muttered, “I’m sorry, Angel, but it has to stop, now.”
Sam stood up, checked his gun, then loaded a fresh clip. His lips were drawn so tightly that they were white. His eyes were burning though, even as he studied Dean’s pale and sweaty features. “You’re going to be okay?”
Dean nodded. “Yeah, that was close, though.”
Sam closed his eyes and took deep breaths in order to calm himself.
Aziraphale whispered to Crowley, "What happened?"
"Dean's cell turned into some kind of a reptile," Crowley answered. "It bit him. Luckily, Sam knew a way to stop the poison from spreading. I managed to reverse whatever permanent damage that could have occurred."
"So, we go charging?" Aziraphale asked.
Crowley shook his head. "Sam called Miles. Turns out Bruce is downstairs in one of the meeting rooms."
Aziraphale sighed and loosened the knot of his tie. He then unbuttoned the cuffs and rolled up his sleeves.
"What do you think you're doing?" Crowley asked.
"Just getting ready, I guess," Aziraphale answered. "It's been forever since I've had a physical confrontation with someone from Below."
"Oh," Crowley said softly. He took Aziraphale's tie and rolled it up before pocketing it.
"What are you going to do?" Aziraphale looked worriedly at his companion.
"I'm not sure," Crowley admitted, shame-faced and not a little afraid. "I didn't think it would end up this way."
"It is," Sam said brusquely. "We're going now."
Bobby took the worn backpack that was hanging from his wheelchair's handle and opened it. He pulled out small containers of lighting fluid and tossed them to Dean and Sam along with lighters. "Only way to be sure," he said. He then took out hand grenades and studied them.
"Can't use those," Deans said. "No guarantee the entire book's going to be destroyed. We're in trouble even if half a page survives."
"Besides, fire purifies," Sam added.
Bobby nodded and put the hand grenades on the coffee table. He then systematically began checking all his arsenal.
"What are you doing?" Dean asked. "You can't think you're going with us."
"Like hell I'm not," Bobby said. "I might not be able to run down demons but I can still rip through an exorcism."
Sam wanted to disagree but a quelling look from Dean kept him quiet. He looked at the man who had such an integral part of his life; it was then Sam realized that his love for the surrogate father dictate that he must respect Bobby's wishes, even if it meant he was going to his death.
Clamping down on the desire to shove Bobby into a closet, Sam looked at Dean who was dry-eyed and focused on the task ahead. But the slight trembling in Dean's hands told Sam how affected his brother was about Bobby's choice.
They got into the elevator when Crowley shook his head. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I can't. I just can't do this."
Aziraphale patted him on his shoulder. "Don't worry. Go. You couldn't fight this battle anyway, Crowley. It isn't yours to begin with."
Crowley dared not raise his face to see if the humans in the compartment agreed with him. Instead, he just nodded and disappeared.
"What would've happened if he went against hell's plans?" Sam asked.
"It's not that he's scared, exactly," Aziraphale answered. "You see, they're family to him. And though you can hate and despise your family ... it's impossible for Crowley to so openly betray them. Without Hell, he'd be lost, Samuel. In a way, it'd be like Falling again."
Aziraphale glanced at the humans and was surprised to note how accepting they were of Crowley's choice. In fact, Sam looked like he understood. Only too well.
The elevator doors opened to an vacant lobby.
Dean gave a crooked smile and said, "Time to nut up or shut up."
Sam rolled his eyes and gave a plaintive sigh. "I fucking hate that movie."
"That's because you wanted to see Time Traveler's Wife instead," Dean quipped.
"Will you two geniuses just give it a rest?" Bobby growled. "Jesus, were you this bad in Detroit?!"
Aziraphale missed Crowley very, very much.
Since the meeting was having a twenty-minute break, Bruce decided to work on yet another page. It took him only ten minutes this time. With a wild grin, he whispered, "Handy, dandy, bye all, Nancy."
For a moment he felt a slight tingle. Then he heard Kevin, Jason, Ash and few others in the room sneeze in unison. He glanced at his friends and saw them throwing confused looks at each other. Bruce then caught one of the contestants staring at Ash with lust and unabashed awe. He had to quell the desire to bonk the guy's head with his cell and yell, "Run!"
Smiling at the thought, he returned to his book when the door burst open and rejects from a Mad Max movie rushed in. One of the guys took only a moment to scan the room before spotting him. The wolfish smile on the man's face loosened something in Bruce's bowels and he felt the sudden need to use the toilet.
"Hey!" the man shouted, "name's Dean! And we need that fucking book!"
The giant behind him looked both dismayed and yet completely unsurprised by the outburst. Then, to make the entire scene even more surreal, a man in a wheelchair came up from behind them along with someone who looked like a pediatrician nearing retirement.
It only took a moment for Bruce to realize that though the face was unfamiliar, the voice wasn't. Dean sounded exactly like the kid Miles had introduced only yesterday.
"Well, well, well," Ash drawled out as she stood up. "If it isn't the Four Musketeers."
Bruce decided it was time to step in and end the madness. "I don't know what in hell is going on, but you guys better stop before I call the police!"
Ash shoved him into his chair. "Shut the fuck up, child." She turned to the men and said, "Sorry, he is rude but then children are invariably."
Dean ignored her completely and looked at Bruce. “We need that book you’ve got in your hands. We don’t want to hurt anyone else. We just want that goddamn book.”
Bruce was about to cheerfully give it to the armed robbers when Ash slapped him hard enough to scramble him out of his seat.
“Stay,” she drawled then added, “good dog.” With a beatific smile Ash returned her attention to the men. “Where are my manners? Everyone calls me Ash, but you may know me as Ashtoreth.”
“Goddess of war and lust?” Dean commented, paling badly. He noticed the stunned look from his companions and Ash. Irate, he yelled, “What? I read too!”
Bruce had enough. He checked his pockets to find his cell had disappeared. Ash or Ashtoreth, depending on the preference of psychosis, smiled and raised her hand. She narrowed her eyes and whispered hissing words.
Nothing happened.
Ash’s face whitened in anger as she received surprised looks from Jason, and Kevin who raised his own hand and whispered another bizarre string of sounds.
As before, nothing happened.
Dean, who looked poised for blows, slowly uncoiled and looked at the giant behind him. “What’s going on?”
The response was a shrug and a shake of the shaggy head. The con participants who had crowded against the walls watched the entire thing unfold with growing curiosity.
Kevin snarled and concentrated harder to no avail. There was a titter behind him then a male voice piped out, “Dude, you suck.”
Bruce realized then everyone else thought this entire thing was staged. Only he knew that the shit had hit the fan and was currently painting the walls. In the following moments it became common knowledge. Kevin whirled around to face the person who had mocked him. He spotted the smirking face and marched towards the guy. On his way, he grabbed a laptop, which he used to smash open the man’s head. Blood, brain matter, and bits of bone flew everywhere.
The screaming began immediately.
Kevin’s murderous act triggered the robbers to rush into the room. Ash turned to the crowd and shouted, “Kill them!”
Seven people broke from the huddling mass and charged. Bruce snapped up the book from the table and tried to run for it. Ash grabbed him by the back of his neck and bounced his head against the table twice. Bruce slid to the ground, unable to focus on anything save the pain raining down from his head to his body.
Ash tried to grab him again but Dean slammed into her, and the two tangled over the table and onto the floor. The tall guy looked at the man in the wheelchair and shouted, “Bobby, what’s going on?!”
“The jackass must have read something from the book and fucked something up!” was the furious answer.
“Sam, some help here?!” Dean roared when he was tackled by two more people besides Ashtoreth.
Sam charged in and took down two men on his way to Dean. It was amazing to watch: he swung once, knocking down one guy and gave a front kick that slammed the second attacker over a table and onto the wall. That guy was completely out for the count. The first one rolled on the floor, screaming while cradling his jaw.
One of Ashtoreth’s friends tackled the crippled thief and the two rolled to the floor as the wheelchair collapsed under them. They began immediately exchange blows, and though the older one was handicapped, it was obvious the disability affected only his legs as he had no problems parrying blows while kidney punching the guy on top of him.
Dean managed to wriggle free from three men and grabbed Ashtoreth by her throat. She gave a scream of inhuman hatred and clawed at his hands as he slammed her against the floor until her eyes had a dazed look.
The door to the convention blew open and a man looking like an out-of-luck tax accountant ran in. He shouted, “Dean! Sam!” before grabbing the man off of Bobby. “I can’t…”
“We know!” Dean yelled back. He whirled around, headbutted a man, and then just for hell of it he kicked the guy between the legs.
Bruce looked at the mayhem unfolding around him then at the book. Suddenly, a shadow covered him and he slowly looked up in mortal fear. It was the pediatrician. The man’s face was freckled with blood but the gore didn’t seem to affect him at all. He kneeled down and gently said,
“The book has to be destroyed. It’s evil, Mr. Lee. Look around – this is all happening because of that book.”
“How?”
“Some things were never meant to be seen by human eyes. Please, Mr. Lee, let’s put an end to all this.”
As if to emphasize the man’s point, the tax accountant flew over Bruce’s head, followed by a woman armed with a cordless mouse and an UGG boot.
Bruce shoved the book at the man’s hands. “Jesus, stop this!”
The stranger smiled, it was both beautiful and sad. “Thank you.” He scrambled away, holding the book tightly against his chest.
“Stop him!” Ashtoreth screamed shrilly. “Stop the angel!”
Bruce felt a small frisson of energy when he let go of a book. It was as if he had suddenly snapped awake from a drug-induced fuzzy headedness. His first thought was angel? What angel? How fucked up is she, exactly?
The pediatrician was tackled from behind but the tax accountant came to his rescue, allowing the pudgy man to slither out from under the dog-pile. Dean rushed to him, pulling out a small tin of what looked like a lighter fluid.
The pediatrician gave a hail mary pass, which worked. Dean caught the book, doused it, and then tried to set it on fire with a lighter. Unfortunately, he didn’t succeed as Jason bit him on the joint between the neck and shoulder. Blood spurted out, garishly painting both Jason's and his victim's faces.
“Dean!” screamed Sam who came charging at top speed even with a fully-grown man wrapped around his left leg, actually gnawing at his calf through his jeans.
Sam punched Jason on both his kidneys before ripping him off of Dean. The injured man toddled once before regaining his balance and his focus. He relit the lighter and this time he was successful. With a triumphant, “Fuck you!” to his attackers, presumably, Dean lit the book. It exploded but the wounded psycho held on, even with the flames dangerously licking close to his fingers.
This wanton destruction ended the various gladiator duels in the room. Ash, Jason, Kevin, and their comrades froze as they witnessed the book turn into dust.
Dean looked up with what Bruce could only describe as a shit-eating grin and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, Elvis has left the building."
Ash launched herself wordlessly but was stymied by what seemed like an invisible wall. Bruce looked around and spotted the pediatrician who had, in the few seconds he wasn't being watched, sprouted wings. And not like Victoria's Secret angel wings either. No, these suckers were huge; easily fifteen feet across and at least seven feet in height. And they were so bright that Bruce found it impossible to stare for long.
"Oh..." the man said as he noticed his new appendages. "Oh, I see. Well." His face scrunched up in deep thought before saying, "I guess the Bering Sea will have to do."
And that was all the warning everybody in the room got before Ash and her maniacal group evaporated into thin air. Bruce was about to congratulate the man when the world turned soft grey before his eyes.
Then, all was peaceful black.
Part III * Conclusion