Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Showers are awesome.

Dean's eyes flutter closed as the cascade of blissfully warm water hits his sore muscles. He takes a deep breath; thick, steamy air swirls into his sinuses, easing away the last dull pulses of his headache. He's not sure how long he just stands there, relishing the sensation. The glass shower door is completely fogged over by the time he reaches for the soap.

As he washes away the layers of sweat and blood and grime, he makes an interesting discovery. Many of the scars he'd gotten over the last few years have vanished. All of them have, in fact.

Except for Cas's hand print.

And for some reason he's glad that it's still there.

We get it, you're happy he's back. Knock it off already.

He tentatively reaches up and runs his hand over the mark. The raised skin is pink and waxy now, already starting to heal. It's tender, but it doesn't hurt like it had when Cas had bumped it earlier. And it certainly isn't reacting like it had when the angel had touched it.

Dean still doesn't understand what exactly had happened there.

The tingling in his chest is a constant presence, though he's already growing accustomed to it, barely notices it's there now unless he thinks about it.

The rest of breakfast had been a relatively quiet affair after the... well- argument doesn't feel like the right word to describe it. After Cas's... emotional clusterfuck that had broken every Goddamn light bulb that had been on in the house. That's more like it.

They'd switched to a safer topic: bringing him up to speed on what had happened while he was out. He'd also gleaned that this is apparently Jody's parents old house somewhere on the outskirts of Lake Preston, South Dakota. The sheriff had transferred here shortly after her run-in with the scaly mooks at the hospital in Sioux Falls, since there was a job opening.

Dean suspects that isn't the whole story. In fact, he's pretty damn sure it isn't. But he didn't pry, the woman has skeletons she'd rather keep in her closet, just like everyone else in this house.

While he was being caught up to speed, he'd polished off his tea and, after some coercing from his brother and the angel, had grudgingly managed a piece of toast.

Unfortunately, that hadn't stopped the looks though.

He had been infinitely gratefully when Jody had suggested a shower. The woman is very perceptive; she'd picked up on his distress. He'd been sick of the three other men in the house staring at him like he's going to sprout a second head any minute.

Oh, God, he really hopes that won't happen.

The knowledge sits at the back of his mind, like a constant lurking shadow, the fact that he's not human, that they don't know what the hell he is. At least they know what will... take care of him... should the need arise.

Dude, don't go there right now.

He physically shakes the thought from his head as he reaches down to turn off the water. Pushing back the now-opaque shower door, he steps into the cool air of the bathroom and towels off. Looking down as he's shrugging on his pants, he spots the maroon bathmat lying innocently on the floor.

Dean still doesn't understand what exactly had happened there either.

Delusion, remember? he reminds himself as he slips on a clean shirt. And that's what he's going to keep telling himself.

Even if he doesn't completely believe it.

Shut up.

Reprieve over, he rejoins the men in the living room where they're partaking in the favorite Winchester family pass time: research. Bobby and Sam have each claimed an armchair and Cas is slumped on the couch, one foot propped up on the coffee table, engrossed in a familiar looking book. Dean plops down next to him.

"Anything interesting?" he asks conversationally, leaning over to peer at the slim tome. It's the 'instruction manual' they'd found in the dragons' lair, he realizes.

"Yes," Cas replies distractedly. And Dean waits for him to continue, but he just silently turns the page.

"Wanna expand on that?" Dean grouses. He really hates when the guy does that, suspects the angel does it on purpose sometimes even.

And he missed it terribly.

Cas glances at him out of the corner of his eye and flips back a few pages, pointing out a passage and tilting the book more toward him. Dean gives him a flat glare in response. "Dude, you're gonna have to help me out here. Bobby has trouble reading that shit."

"And that's why I gave it to the Babel angelfish," the old hunter butts in without looking up from his own book. He flips a page and exhales loudly. "Took me days to hash out a page of that thing and he's over there plowin' through it like it's damn Dr. Seuss." The older man sounds put out, but it doesn't fool Dean; he can see the way Bobby's mouth is doing that affectionate sideways slant that it does when he's only pretending to be annoyed with them.

Cas looks up at Dean then and his heart gives a particularly loud thump at the expression on the angel's face. He has an eyebrow raised, blue eyes shining with almost-amusement and his lips curling inward like he's trying to stop from smiling. He seems more... at ease... than he's been all morning. At least some of Dean's words from earlier must have gotten through.

Thank God for small miracles.

"It's a detailed narrative of Eve's banishment to Purgatory," Cas explains, looking back down at the book. "I hadn't realized that one existed," he comments in a light, curious tone.

"What's it say?" Sam asks, looking up with an expression Dean would call the epitome of 'eager-beaver'.

"Eve was originally banished to Purgatory after deceiving her human counterpart into partaking of the forbidden fruit of Eden," Cas states, turning back to the page he'd been on. "...Jealousy is not the most... venial of motives," he adds with a shake of his head.

And that has Bobby looking up too. "That was Eve?" he asks slowly, voice rising on the last word in incredulity.

"Yes," the angel states simply, glancing up between their surprised faces.

"Hold on," Dean cuts in. "I thought that was a serpent. Or the devil. Or something like that."

"Eve would 'fall under' something like that," Cas points out with an inappropriate use of air quotes. Dean's going to have to sit down and explain that to him one of these days. When it stops being funny.

The angel pauses thoughtfully, then adds, "Lucifer was not yet... infuriated... by humanity."

"So why is that interesting to you? Didn't you see it first hand?" Sam asks, still enthralled with the subject. Dean has always secretly found that fascinating too though, the fact that Cas has been there, seen so much.

Cas purses his lips and flicks his eyes around the room. "I... was not... permitted... to witness those events," he explains hesitantly.

"Pops didn't want the kiddies watching that domestic dispute," a playful voice comments. But Dean is momentarily distracted from Gabriel's arrival by a jolting feeling in his ribcage, like a static shock right behind his sternum. It startles him more than anything; his shoulders jerk involuntarily and he reaches up to rub at his breastbone.

Sam and Bobby both zero in on the action immediately, eying him like a couple of hawks. His brother is even already half out of his seat, he notices.

"Dean?" Cas's gravelly voice asks from his left. A hand grips his shoulder and he almost shakes it off in his annoyance, he isn't used to being treated with such fragility. The open concern he finds on the angel's face when he looks over at him stops him though.

It's kind of... nice.

"Well, that's interesting," the archangel remarks as he perches on the arm of Sam's chair. He places a hand on the younger Winchester's shoulder and pushes gently, apparently encouraging him to sit back down. Sam slides his eyes up to look at the former trickster, a question on his face, but eases back into his seat.

The pressure on Dean's shoulder increases. "He sensed you coming," Cas utters at his side.

The elder Winchester looks between the two. "That's what that was?" And he realizes that the feeling hasn't returned to 'normal' this time, that it's slightly different now, more complex. There's a light pulse threaded through it, like some sort of weak back-beat, and he realizes that it's Gabriel that is causing it.

Whoa.

"Your mojo's still awake in there," Gabriel says to his brother, eying Dean curiously and ignoring the question. He crosses his legs and leans forward to rest his head in one of his hands as he stares. "Huh," he comments after a moment, like he's looking at something he doesn't quite understand.

"What?" Dean demands again, fidgeting a little and running a hand over his chest.

Cas ignores him too. "Yes, I thought it would have gone dormant again by now," he concurs, dropping his hand from Dean's shoulder.

"Which means..." And before Dean can ask a third time, Gabriel disappears.

Dean snaps back on the couch as the archangel reappears right in front of him. "Whoa, Dude! What the fuck-"

And the brunette angel lunges forward and slams the flat of his palm against his chest.

The elder Winchester grunts as he feels the familiar burning sensation of sigils being carved into his ribs. As the feeling fades, he glares up at the archangel. "Ouch," he gripes sarcastically, tottering his head in emphasis. "Dude, a little warning-" But Gabriel is already gone, back on the arm of Sam's chair.

"Sorry, Dean-o," the archangel apologizes without sounding remorseful at all. "The house is a safe zone right now, but can't have you going outside and waving a piece of Cassie's grace around like a flag. Someone might come snooping."

"Well aren't you helpful," Dean grumbles, looking down as he rubs at his chest again. "You selling cookies too? I hear it's about that time of year for you girl scouts."

And when silence meets the insult, Dean gets worried that maybe he's pissed the guy off. He cautiously looks back up at the brunette angel and...

And Gabriel is smiling.

At him.

And it's not even the condescending I'm about to drop a piano on you, jackass smile.

If Dean didn't know better, he'd say it's... more like he's genuinely happy about something.

It's friggin' creepy.

"...I'll put you down for two boxes," the archangel quips after a moment, crossing his arms. "After Sammy texted me about your bitchy-" His face slides into a familiar smirk as he stresses the word. That's more like it. "little problem, I went and had a chat with Joshua."

"Joshua? Thought that guy was a gardener," Sam comments, looking up at the angel. And completely ignores the teasing look Dean is trying to give him about texting the guy.

"Your confusion is understandable," Cas acquiesces, closing his book and placing it on the table. He sits forward and rests his elbows on his knees, bowing his head and clasping his hands. From this angle Dean can see his left shoulder blade tense as he settles. He'd asked about that during breakfast too, but Cas had weaseled out of answering by pointing out that Dean hadn't eaten yet and that had gotten Sam on his case.

Cas can be a sneaky bastard.

Well, he did learn from the best.

"He is sparsely mentioned in religious texts," the dark-haired angel explains, looking up. His eyes go distant for a moment. "...And he is referred to by another name. I believe they call him... Metatron."

And that grabs Dean's attention. "Metatron? As in the voice of God?" he asks. The question earns him a bunch of baffled stares.

"What?" He tries to shrug off their disbelief. Doesn't work. "I do know things," he disputes irritably. When they continue to stare he sighs and admits, "Okay, so my resources include a Keven Smith movie. Shoot me."

Cas looks quite taken back by the suggestion, but Gabriel snorts. "Matt Damon did not do me justice at all."

"Oh, I dunno," Dean disagrees. "I think he captured your particular brand of crazy pretty well."

Gabriel's eyes narrow for a moment but then a wolfish grin spreads across his face. "This from a guy that has whole websites dedicated to slash about him," he proclaims loudly.

A clang echoes through the open doors of the kitchen followed by a quiet curse and a meek, "'M okay."

Dean gazes at the doorway for a minute before turning his attention back to the cocky bastard. "Dude, you leave Sam out of this-"

"Actually, it isn't just you two anymore," Gabriel informs him, upgrading his grin to 'shit-eating'.

"What are you-" Dean begins to ask, but then the archangel glances meaningfully in Cas's direction.

No, no, no- oh shit... "H-how do they even know about-" he stammers.

"I said Chuck wasn't publishing the new stuff. Never said he didn't publish again ever," Gabriel points out. "The series stopped printing again after Sam's swan dive into the Cage."

Sam's face lights up with some sort of revelation. "That's why Becky kept asking-" he begins, then snaps his mouth shut. He seems to wrestle with something mentally for a moment and then his face goes blank.

His shoulders twitch suspiciously though.

Dean doesn't want to know. He really, really doesn't. Especially if it involves someone with the words 'Sam' and 'licker' in their email address.

Gabriel looks positively gleeful. "And it even has a name, Dest-mmph." But he doesn't get to finish, thank God, because he's too busy eating a face full of the pillow Dean has just thrown at him.

"What is slash?" Cas asks then, his face the picture of innocent curiosity.

Dean whirls on him and throws up his hands. "NOTHING!" he cries with a little too much protest. The dark-haired angel jerks away from him, eyes widening and eyebrows shooting up in surprise. He looks kind of like a scolded puppy.

It makes Dean feel bad about yelling. Dammit.

"Believe me, Cas. There are some things that aren't meant to be known," he tells the angel with a little less force, hoping he sounds apologetic.

"I see." Cas nods slowly; a look of awkward understanding graces his face. "It's something sexual then," he decides aloud.

And Dean vehemently tries to deny it, but he thinks he may have just swallowed his tongue. All that comes out is a strangled choking sound.

And his bastard brother isn't even trying to hide that he's laughing now. That is, until Gabriel leans down and says something quietly to him that Dean can't hear. It wipes the humor right off Sam's face and his eyes get comically large. He not-so-subtly leans away from the archangel and clears his throat loudly.

"Right. So. Metatron."

Apparently Cas, with his freaky angel super-hearing, heard whatever it was. He knits his eyebrows together, eyes darting between their brothers like he's trying to work out a complicated math problem.

Meanwhile, Dean's trying very hard not to put two and two together.

"Joshua is the... scribe of Heaven," Cas says after a moment. "He is the record keeper of celestial history." Ah, well that makes sense, especially if he's the only angel God is still talking to.

"Though he is usually... adverse to discussing his work." The look of frustration that filters across Cas's face suggests that he's had a 'little chat' or two of his own with the angel. Then again, it could just be residual resentment; the guy was the one that told them that God didn't care about the apocalypse after all.

"Dude didn't seem like much of a talker," Dean agrees with a shake of his head.

"Eh, he's not so bad. You just gotta know how to loosen him up," Gabriel interjects, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. "He's like..." He flares his eyebrows and laughs a little to himself. "He's like a Knight of Ni: bring him a shrubbery and he's down right sociable."

"So you bribed him. With plants."

"Pretty much." Gabriel nods.

"Anyway. Gather 'round, kiddies. Story time," the archangel announces.

"Joy," Bobby scoffs, closing the book Dean suspects he had just been using as an excuse to ignore them.

"Now, you all already know that the leviathans were Dad's first attempts at sentient life. They were simple, just basic instincts," Gabriel begins.

"And then they started tearin' up the rug," Dean adds.

"Yeah, and Dad got nervous. So he built himself a toy chest, called it Purgatory, and dumped them in." The archangel pauses, shooting a meaningful glance at Cas. The dark-haired angel has his head bowed now, seemly entranced with staring at his still-clasped hands.

Not this shit again.

"I didn't know about them either, lil' bro," Gabriel says gently. The words don't seem to console his younger brother, but Dean gives him points for trying.

The hunter sighs and claps Cas on the shoulder, giving him a little shake. "Don't make me punch you again," he threatens facetiously. And that garners a reaction; the angel turns his head just enough to give him a peevish glare and flares his nostrils. Dean's hand falls from his shoulder as he leans back on the couch and crosses his arms over his chest. Radiating annoyance, he gives Gabriel a jerky nod.

The archangel raises an eyebrow as he continues, "So Pops gave it a second go. This time he focused on quality instead of quantity. Made one being, gave her the ability to create life. That's something he left out of the leviathans' recipe, by the way."

"Well, that's a relief," Bobby sighs. "At least they ain't out there breedin'."

"Urgh, no talk of snake boinking. Please." Dean runs his hand over his face, nauseated at the thought. Gabriel doesn't seem to like the idea either, he continues without any smart-ass remarks about trouser snakes or the likes.

"...I guess Dad figured she'd respect life more if she had children of her own to love. And she did love them. But the buck stopped there, she despised everything else."

"And that was Eve?" Sam asks.

"That was Eve." Gabriel nods.

"She went and ruined it for us. She's why all the angels came out as robo-cop ken-dolls. He took free will out of the mix: made us obedient and already hardwired to love him, incapable of independence or creation."

"But Anna said that grace is pure creation."

Cas bristles. "That was a poor explanation," he voices tersely. "It can only affect things that already exist. That oak tree was a seed that was effected by her grace, the grace didn't create it out of thin air."

"Yeah," Gabriel agrees, sounding irritated as well. "Granted, I can be very creative, but even I have my limits." The archangel shares a loaded look with his brother.

After a moment he sighs and reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. "Anyway, Dad left Eve to her own devices for a long time, ignored her little temper tantrums, even that bitch fit sixty-five million years ago."

Sixty-five- wasn't that... holy shit.

Sam seems to come to the same conclusion. "You're screwing with us, right?" he demands, grimacing in disbelief.

"He is not," Cas speaks up. "I can attest to that."

"Jesus," Dean breathes, suddenly feeling very small. He'd known Cas was old, but he'd never really thought about how old. Or how old Eve had been, for that matter.

"None of us really got to know her, she was like a crazy cousin that everyone in the family avoided and never really talked about," Gabriel explains.

"When humans popped up, Pops gave them Eden and declared it a mojo-free zone. The new baby was off limits, he didn't want us teaching it bad habits. When Dad started doting on those two lovebirds, Eve got jealous. They were the first sentient beings that could create life since herself and she couldn't stand sharing that. She swooped in and popped their perception cherries. Pops was furious." He hesitates then. "...We weren't allowed to watch him punish her."

Before Gabriel can continue, Sam speaks up, his voice a low monotone as he recites something from memory:

"So the Lord God said to the serpent: Because you have done this, You are cursed more than all cattle, And more than every beast of the field; On your belly you shall go, And you shall eat dust all the days of your life. And I will put enmity between you and the woman, And between your seed and her Seed; He shall bruise your head, And you shall bruise His heel." [Genesis 3:14-15 NKJV]

"I guess that makes sense," he mumbles. There's a surprised silence as all eyes fall on the young man.

"Sam, how the hell do you-" And Dean is about to ask just how the hell Sam has that memorized but the question dies on his lips as a distant memory springs to mind. A little boy hanging on his older brother's every word as he reads him a bedtime story from the only book they'd had, the one that you're guaranteed to find in the nightstand of every motel room in the States. They'd never gotten very far before Sam would fall asleep and he'd always demand that they start from the beginning for some reason. "...You remember that?" he asks instead. He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. "Geez."

"Yeah," Sam admits sheepishly, fiddling with his hands in his lap.

There's an awkward silence before the archangel clears his throat. Dean looks up at him then and is surprised by the shockingly understanding expression on Gabriel's face. Dean remembers him once telling them that he'd taken an interest in them long ago, and now he wonders just how long Gabriel has been keeping tabs on them.

"And that's the origins of the monster/human family feud in a nutshell. Only he didn't literally mean her belly, he took something more precious than her legs."

"What?"

Gabriel's face closes off and he shifts uncomfortably. His voice lowers to a rough whisper, "...She was beautiful once." And that's all they get. Dean finds it incredibly hard to imagine that thing they'd seen in that truck-stop camera as ever being beautiful though.

"After that he locked her in Purgatory too. Hell, most of us thought he'd created it for her," the archangel admits.

"And now everything creepy and crawly goes there."

"Yeah, back to their mother. She's wormed her way out a couple of times since then, ganked a few civilizations, made some new children, but she always ended up back in the slammer pretty quick. Except the last time, of course." Gabriel gives Dean a wink.

"Whelp, that's all I got," the archangel declares, slapping his thighs.

"That was interesting and all, but it doesn't really help us," Sam says with a frown. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs.

The phone rings in the kitchen.

There are footsteps and then an irritated, "Jeffers, I told you not to call me about anymore missing-" A small pause, followed by a quieter, "...Oh, Hi Greg- sorry-" And the person on the other line interrupts her again. Everyone else in the room looks sharply at the open doors at the mention of the man's name, Dean notices, but he doesn't understand why.

The next time Jody speaks, her words are a clipped apology followed by a curse as this Greg guy apparently hangs up on her. There's the click of the phone being placed none-too-gently back on the receiver, and Jody, looking disturbed, enters the living room.

"That was Greg," she begins with a tight frown.

"And? Are the results in already?" Sam leans forward anxiously. Ah, okay. Greg, Jody's brother that was testing the goop. Dean remembers Sam mentioning that over breakfast now.

"No," she says slowly. "He called to chew me out. Apparently," she pauses, looking down at Dean warily. She reaches up and pushes a wayward lock of hair out of her face, her hand coming to rest on the back of her neck as she exhales a shaky breath. "Apparently three of their machines just exploded."

The bottom of Dean's stomach drops out. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," he stutters disbelievingly. "The stuff- the stuff that's in me- just nuked his lab?"

Jody's hand slides around to grip at her throat. "Yeah," is her disquieted reply.

"I only gave him a little bit," Gabriel says, throwing up his hands defensively.

"So I'm basically a ticking time bomb?" Dean asks numbly, staring down at his hands.

"We don't know that," he hears Sam disagree. "Maybe it's like, supercharged? Reacted to the machines?" the younger Winchester suggests.

"Stay away from power lines, Sparky," Gabriel advises Dean unhelpfully. "And the toaster."

"I'll toast you," Dean mutters, flicking his eyes up to glare at the archangel.

Gabriel cocks his head to the side and his mouth curls into a devious smile. "That a promise?"

"Bickering will get us nowhere," Cas reprimands them with a heavy sigh.

"Yeah, I'm low on spare light bulbs," Jody mutters as she walks back into the kitchen. Gabriel shoots Cas a questioning look and Dean bites his lip to hide his smile at the embarrassed flush that blooms on the angel's cheeks.

"I only broke five," he grumbles dejectedly. "And I apologized."

Dean pats him consolingly on the shoulder. "Chicks hold grudges."

He pulls his hand away abruptly when the red-head shouts from the next room, "And have guns!"

"So..." Dean ventures, changing the subject. "What do we know about this shit?"

"If Dr. Olson's research is anything to go by, then it's some sort of stem cell gene therapy crap. Now we know it's derived from Eve. And it apparently reacts to exposure to energy," Sam summaries. "The question is, what was Crowley trying to do with it?"

"Create a new all-mother?" Bobby suggests with distaste.

"That is a reasonable hypothesis," Cas admits. "Vessels are capable of withstanding immense amounts of energy. It would make them... ideal candidates."

"Why the hell would he do that though?" Bobby asks. "Eve hated his slimy guts," he points out.

"The vessels were possessed," Sam says. "What if that wasn't just to keep them manageable? What if he's trying to create some sort of demonic hybrid?" he guesses.

"Maybe he still has his eye on the Purgatory prize," Gabriel suggests. "Those souls are just sitting in there all by their lonesome."

"But where do I stand in all this?" Dean interrupts. "I'm not a chick," he reminds them all.

The silence that follows isn't comforting.

A horrifying thought strikes Dean.

"I'm not turning into a chick, am I?" he asks, suddenly alarmed. "Don't answer that," he snaps when Gabriel opens his mouth.

"Don't be ridiculous, Dean," Cas admonishes and then pauses, pensive. After a moment he asks, "You are still in possession of your genitalia, aren't you?"

Dean gapes.

"Yes- Dude, of course I am!" he cries indignantly. "Don't you think I would have mentioned if my fucking junk vanished!" He jabs his hand towards his pants in emphasis.

Cas's lip twitches.

And that's when Dean realizes that Cas is joking.

Honest-to-God poking fun at him.

Something ignites in his chest, a warm, fuzzy feeling that he hasn't felt in a long, long time.

Fuck.

And he's too busy trying not to blush to even bother threatening his brother and Gabriel for laughing.

"That still leaves us pretty much where we were an hour ago, doesn't it?" Bobby asks, rolling his eyes. "He could still grow a tail, or another head, or fangs, or somethin'."

And that works like a bucket of ice water on Dean's mood. "Well aren't you a downer," he complains, even though he knows the older man is right.

"I'm just bein' realistic, boy. Honestly, what are the chances of this not screwin' with you? We don't have that kind of luck," Bobby reminds him.

"I think those types of changes would have likely already been visible, considering how quickly a vampire or skinwalker turns once infected," Cas argues. "However... it's still not outside the realm of possibility."

And Dean's mood goes from bad to worse. "So I only probably won't turn into a rabid monster," he grinds out. "Awesome."

He stands and heads toward the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" he hears Sam ask from behind him.

"I need a drink," he tosses over his shoulder irately.

No one stops him.