EIGHTEEN

Some People Juggle Seals

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In an uncomfortably familiar way, Dean ran for his life.

Normally this included him trying to fire a gun while running in the opposite direction. Today it included no weapons. Just pounding down the hallway, knowing that a huge monkey bat and a raging cloud of demons were behind him. Getting closer.

He reached a door and grasped the doorknob. Something yanked at his foot. He slipped straight down and cracked into the floor. Fire exploded up through his cheekbone. He put his hands to the floor to get up.

He froze as something whisked over his back. Something screamed. Something roared. Something stroked the air with furious anger. He dared to turn his head slowly, pushing himself up on one side to look above him.

The black smoke was trying to encase the large bat. It was angry enough to keep its wings and tail thrashing. It was making it very difficult for the smoke to accomplish anything. Another sound joined the fray.

It was slight at first. Distant. The barely discernible whop-whop-whop was not even enough to catch Dean’s attention. Until it started to become a hum, a steady thrumming of repetition. He got to his hands and knees, crawling further down the hallway, trying to remember in which room he had left everyone. The new noise became louder and louder. He shuffled faster.

He reached the next door and put his hand up, turning the door handle carefully. Before he could push the door open he realised what the whop-whop-whop was. He turned his head fearfully. He was correct.

A huge new cloud was piling into the space currently occupied by the smoke and monster bat. It was also roiling, screaming, angry, just like the demonic cloud. But this one was a fighting, spitting, clawing, raging cloud of monkey bats. Some small, some large, all trying to find some dark smoke to obliterate. A part of the cloud broke off. It aimed itself as Dean.

Dean turned back to the door smartly. He pushed it open as he felt something whisk past his back. He threw himself in through the door. Something clutched at his right shoulder and he was halted mid-hurl.

DONG!

The abrupt and earth-shattering metallic crash echoed so close to his head he thought an ear drum might have exploded. He rolled onto his back. His boot came up and slammed the door shut.

He stared at the door, swallowing in trepidation, getting some breath back.

“You ok?” Moon dared from behind him.

He hiked his elbows under him and looked up at her. He opened his mouth but did a double-take.

Moon was standing over him, almost trembling from either fear or adrenaline - or a combination of both. She had her arms up, her large copper-bottomed frying pan held aloft and ready to be swung again.

“Ye-ah, thanks to you and your lethal weapon,” he managed. “Could you… lower that a little?”

“Oh!” she breathed, surprised. “Yeah.” She let it drop to dangle loosely at her side, blowing out a rough sigh.

Dean felt something snuffling at his ear and turned with a smile. Angel didn’t hesitate. She stuck her tongue out and licked from his chin right up over his face. Dean’s smile evaporated in an instant. “Nice to see you too,” he sighed wearily.

“Did you get them the brick?” came Sam’s voice. Dean pushed himself up to sit, looking round. Sam was still on the wooden chair, but now he was holding his head and looking much more awake.

“Yeah. Cavalry’s here. They’re duking it out in the hallway,” Dean allowed. “Which means we should be somewhere else.”

“Window?” Moon asked. Dean climbed to his feet laboriously.

“Window,” he nodded.

“We’re just going to leave them here?” Pamela asked. But she was already feeling her way across the wall.

“Oh yeah,” Dean nodded. “They don’t need us any more, they’ve got their arch enemies to scrap with. And like you said, whoever wins is not going to be thanking us for bringing them together.” He crossed the room to the window, looking out. “Car’s round the other side,” he noted. He looked at Sam. “You ok?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he managed. He got to his feet, joining his brother at the window. “At least this time we’re on the ground floor.”

“Yeah,” Dean allowed. He looked round at everyone before putting his hand out for Pamela’s arm. There was a crash outside in the hallway before a thump hit the door. “Right then. Last one in the car’s buying the burgers.”

He guided Pamela to the window and between him and Sam, they had her out in the dying sunshine. Moon skittered over the edge with a lean on Sam’s arm, and then he followed easily. He turned back to find Dean bending down.

“What you are--. Oh,” Sam realised.

Dean straightened, the huge dog in an awkward arrangement in his arms. Dean strained and heaved to get Angel over the window ledge. She struggled to get free and caused him to drop her. She landed on her feet none the wiser, and immediately Dean’s boot came over the wooden ledge.

The door gave a rattle and a thump. Dean didn’t look back. He leapt out of the window and took the lead, heading off round the side of the building, toward the Impala.

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A night in a cheap motel room served everyone very well. Sam’s head stopped trying to perform a whirling dervish manoeuvre every time he moved it, and Dean’s head ceased leaking blood every time he thought Moon had patched it. Pamela and Moon retired to their own room and the older woman managed to swing her own, huge bed. Back with Sam and Dean, Angel managed to climb up onto her favourite human’s bed and sleep on his feet.

As the morning brought aches, pains, relief and closure, it also brought coffee - courtesy of Sam.

“C’mon, Dean,” he called brightly, opening the motel room door. “Rise and shine.”

He shut the door with his foot and carried the cardboard holder to the table between the two beds. He set down the two cups and looked over to see his brother still very much enjoying the pillow in which his head was currently buried. Angel was snoring more loudly than the Winchester whose feet she was warming, her own paws twitching every now and again.

Sam couldn’t help but smile as he sat on his own bed, shaking his head slightly. He pulled the bottle of water and the small box of dog biscuits from his pocket.

“Dean,” he called.

His brother did not stir and Sam sighed. He sat back and took in the way Dean was sleeping like he’d been dropped from a great height: one arm dangling over the edge, the other under his pillow, his head ensconced deep within the fluffiness. He watched Angel for a moment, shaking his head.

“Guess we did have a hard time on this one,” Sam allowed. He got up, content to leave the pair of them snoring, and went back out of the room. He closed the door quietly, going next door to the girls’ room and knocking lightly.

“Minute,” came the cheerful response. He waited and then the door opened.

“Morning,” Pamela said, and Sam blinked. Without her sunglasses she appeared bright, breezy, alert. And she was smiling a touch too broadly.

“Hey, Pamela,” he smiled. “What’s got you so cheerful this early in the morning?”

“Come on in first,” Pamela allowed, standing back. Sam walked in and she closed the door behind him. He found Moon sat on her bed, brushing her hair. She looked up.

“Hey,” she smiled.

“Right,” Sam havered. “Someone want to tell me what’s making you two so happy?”

“Moon has decided to come stay with me for a little while,” Pamela announced, walking back across the room slowly. She felt her way to the chair by the TV, sitting slowly.

“Really?”

“Really,” Moon confirmed. “I just think… well, I think I might be useful. And I like Pam - she has a dirty sense of humour,” she grinned.

“It’s only dirty if no-one else has tried that position,” Pamela smiled, wagging a finger in her direction.

Sam snorted in amusement. “O-k. So when we--”

“Ah… We’d kinda like to… Well, me and Pamela want to… get back to her place by ourselves. If that’s ok,” Moon interrupted hesitantly.

“You don’t want us to drive you back?” he asked, surprised.

“Face it, Sam, you smell, Dean sings, and that dog freaks us both out,” Pamela teased. “Moon and I just want to roadtrip by ourselves. Y’know, girls together.”

“Well ok, if you’re happy doing that,” he shrugged. He looked around, seeing all their things packed and ready. “Will you at least accept a ride to the bus station?”

“I’ll take the ride, and she’ll go to the bus station,” Pamela put in swiftly.

Sam just laughed, but Moon waved a hand at him.

“Actually? We have a ride,” she said bravely.

“You do?” Sam managed.

“Uh-huh,” she nodded. “You’re not the only one who gets up early. And we’d like to get started. This place is not exactly full of happy memories.”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

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Dean heaved the sleeping animal from his feet and rolled out of bed before pushing himself into the shower. The coffee by the bed might have been cold when he emerged, but it did not detract one iota of power from its magical properties as he sank the entire cup.

He opened the small box of biscuits he found next to the cup and tossed them one-by-one at the now very much awake Angel while drying himself off and finding clothes. He rinsed out the huge cup and filled it with water, crouching in his jeans to watch her plunge her head in the vessel and lap up the contents. He refilled it and was happy to scratch at her head and ears while she hoovered that up, too.

“There you go, sweetheart. We’ll get you more before we ship out, ok?” he promised, setting the cup on the table again and scrubbing at her head and neck with both hands. She whined and squirmed in happiness, pawing at his jeans and trying to lick his face.

“Yeah yeah. Come on, I gotta find a shirt.” He patted her back down and got to his feet, finding his duffle and emptying it out. He rooted through until he found a t-shirt. He sniffed it to identify the level of cleanliness, judged it high enough, and pulled it on over his head.

“You appear almost healed,” said a familiar, quiet voice from behind him.

Dean turned to find the angel stood watching the dog with patent approval.

“Yeah, damndest thing, man,” he muttered, lifting his t-shirt sleeve and peering at the now much-improved shoulder wounds. “They just like… sealed up, got three weeks better overnight.” He dropped the cotton again. “No idea why, though. Guess I’m just a fast healer,” he added, puzzled. He missed Castiel’s blatant roll of the eyes as he turned back to the bed.

Castiel watched him with a decided amount of weariness, then back down at the dog, thinking. She sat down with a plonk, her tongue hanging out as she looked up at him. Castiel turned and walked to the table under the TV, watching his hand land on the surface.

“You interfered.”

“Don’t start with that again,” Dean sighed. He sat on the bed, twisting to pick up all his clothes, starting to roll them up. Angel trotted over and lay down, getting comfortable at his toes. “You know what I keep thinking about?” he asked conversationally.

“Had I to guess, I would say human females,” Castiel sighed, turning to lay a withering glance on him. He put his hands on the table behind him, leaning back on them wearily.

Dean didn't even acknowledge the dig. “Right from the out-set you told us you couldn’t get involved. But you’ve still been bugging us from day one.”

“I was instructed to advise you against charging in and endangering a seal,” he said darkly.

“Oh ye of little faith,” Dean smiled maliciously, pointing a finger at him.

“You have history,” the angel countered.

Dean’s smile died by degrees. He looked down at the dog laid out on the carpet, one of her paws overlapping his bare foot protectively. Her complete ignorance of the conversation, and the meaning to everything they had accomplished in the last few days, suddenly hit home. Dean considered her in silence for a long moment. Eventually he worked his way up to the real weight on his mind.

“Are we gonna win this?” he dared quietly.

Castiel appraised his shoes. “It is what I pray for.”

“That’s a no if ever I heard one,” Dean sighed, prompting the angel to look up at him. Dean leaned forward, running a hand through his hair with just the slightest air of desperation.

Angel felt the movement and looked up at the human, hoping he was about to pat her head. When he didn’t she looked at Castiel, appearing forlorn. The angel simply returned her gaze, his head tilted slightly as he regarded her with customary curiosity. She set her chin back down on the floor, a slight huff rippling her jowls as she did so.

Castiel turned his attention to the human, a strange, alien feeling encroaching on his conscience. He had no idea what it was or what it meant, but for some reason it was nudging him to change the current topic of conversation.

“What is it you keep thinking about?” the angel ventured, hoping to employ the same subject-shifting strategy he had heard the boys use on just such occasions.

Dean let his hand drop and met Castiel’s eyes.

“That either a human or something else unaffected by salt put that brick at the bottom of the lake,” he said slowly.

“That would be reasonable,” Castiel allowed with an alarming amount of caution.

Dean smiled slyly. “The monkey bats aren’t affected by rocksalt enough when you shoot at ‘em, but I’m betting a lake like that would really slow ‘em down. And they couldn’t seem to be able to sniff it out down there.”

“Which was unfortunate.”

“So they didn’t stash it down there - and they had no reason to anyway. Demons couldn’t have got it down there either.”

“Perhaps.”

“Angels did this, right?” Dean challenged. “Back when demons weren’t really a problem.”

“Did you consider the possibility that a demon simply threw it at the lake?” Castiel asked mildly. But he was letting his blue eyes wander everywhere around the room - everywhere Dean Winchester was not.

“I did,” Dean smiled craftily. “C’mon, Cas. Who put it down there? ‘Fess up, you’ve been rumbled.”

“I do not know who put it down there,” Castiel said simply, turning to pin the human with a look. Dean detected no obfuscation, no attempt at avoidance.

“Right,” he allowed.

“I do know… It was done on behalf of Lucifer.”

“Lucifer?” Dean blurted. “Why?”

“It seems he… foresaw a certain advantage in culling ‘monkey bats’ through time.”

“Friggin’ sneaky bastard,” Dean breathed, shaking his head. “But despite everything, we didn’t charge in and break the wrong seal anyway.”

“I never feared you would,” Castiel said quietly.

“You said you were stopping us from--”

The angel sighed. “It was felt,” he stressed, leaning his head forward slightly, “that you Winchesters would somehow…”

“Fumble the ball?”

“As you say. However, not everyone in the garrison thought you would fail. Some of us had faith.”

“Some of you?”

“One of us.”

It was quiet for a long moment. Dean appeared thoughtful, troubled. At last he looked at the angel.

“Thanks, Cas.”

The angel shrugged, as if he cared neither way. “Have we covered everything?” he asked quietly.

“You mean are we done here?” Dean smiled, looking down at the patient dog at his feet. “Well, I think we’re past the awkward ‘thank you - no no, thank you’ moment.” He smiled, reaching down and scratching the dog’s head. Angel lifted it immediately, letting her mouth fall open and her eyes sink closed in pleasure.

There was no answer and Dean looked up.

As he had expected, Castiel was gone.

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“Hey, can I ask you something?” he asked quietly, leaning on the counter. The girl smiled.

“I’ve been waiting,” she admitted.

He just blinked. “If you were lookin’ to get a dog, where would you go?” Dean asked innocently.

“Get a dog?” she prompted, seemingly disappointed. “Like… a dog?”

“Yeah, y’know,” Dean shrugged. “My brother likes puppies,” he grinned.

She smiled again, putting her elbows on the high counter and leaning on them. “Well… Best place? Swit’s Dog Recycling,” she replied.

“Recycling?”

“Their little joke. They got all them strays, unwanteds, you know,” she added.

“Right,” he havered.

“But the dogs are always looked after - my uncle got his Staffy from there. And they do seem to genuinely care for the animals. They got big breeds too.”

“Oh, he’s definitely a small, fluffy yapper type of man,” Dean asserted with a malicious smile.

“I’ll bet. Anyway, it’s about sixty miles down the road. You probably won’t make it there today. They close at six but they stop entry at four.”

“Well ain’t that a shame,” Dean nodded, looking very pleased. “Guess we’ll have to just wait till tomorrow, huh?”

“Oh - tomorrow’s Monday,” she pointed out. “They’re open weekends but they’re closed Mondays - just to tidy up after visitors and the like.”

“Ah well,” Dean sighed, a sudden light in his eyes, “we could wait till Tuesday.”

“Oh hey - if you want directions, call me.” She pulled out the motel’s name card and snatched up a pen, scribbling on it quickly. She slid it across the counter. “If it helps.”

Dean picked it up and committed the number to memory. He nodded and then winked at her. “Just might do that. Thanks.”

He picked up his duffle and walked out of the motel, catching up with the three people and the dog standing between two cars.

“This your ride?” Dean asked, looking over the red Dodge Charger with the grey front wing. “Looks kinda familiar.”

“Well Gary Lands ain’t going to need it,” Pamela put in. “Besides, we changed the plates. Sam gave us some out of your trunk.”

“Did he,” Dean bridled, looking at his younger sibling. But Pamela was following Dean’s voice and she put her hands out. He realised he was being called upon and walked forward. Her fingers hit the front of his lone t-shirt and she grinned.

“Mmm, there’s something you don’t feel every day.” She flattened her hands against his chest, sliding them outwards slowly. “That’s the trouble with being blind, you have to do everything by touch.”

“I’m sure,” he allowed, as she put her arms under his and round his back. There was a brief, mutual hug, and she pulled him away by his arms.

“Now quit calling me. I ain’t your personal psychic, I’ve got millions of people dying to pay me for my valuable services,” she smiled, but there was a slight edge to her voice Dean recognised all too well. She sighed wistfully to herself, shook her head sadly, and let go of his arms.

Sam was looking at Moon. “You going to be ok now?”

“I think I am,” she said, “finally.” She stepped up to him and wrapped her arms round his taller form gratefully. “Thanks, Sam. Sunny missed you.”

Sam didn’t answer, but he put his arms round her warmly. I think I miss me too.

Moon pulled him away and went to Dean. Pamela put her hands out and waved Sam toward her.

“Come here, Sam. Where’s mine?” she teased. Sam chuckled and put his hands to her shoulders. She snaked her arms around him, crushing him against her with strength he always forgot she had. He smelt her perfume, felt her warmth pressed against him, was glad she was so vibrant and alive.

Then he felt her hand smoothing over the back pocket of his jeans. She squeezed and gave a decidedly dirty chuckle in his ear.

“Yup, still there,” she oiled, releasing him and standing back. “You boys take care, ok?”

“We will,” Sam beamed. Pamela turned and reached out for the car, finding the door handle and pulling it open. Sam bent and put his hand to her head gently, preventing her from banging into the door arch. He closed the door for her and leaned on it.

“Thanks for everything. Again,” he added warmly.

“You can thank me by leaving me alone for a while,” she remarked drily. “Go make sure Dean doesn’t do anything unnatural with that dog.” She patted at his hand on the door and he grinned, turning to find his brother.

Dean and Moon were behind him a little way, glued to each other as if any wisp of air between them would be charged for. She was grabbing onto him desperately, her arms tight around his back, her hands gripping the backs of his shoulders for dear life. Dean simply had his huge arms round her back, but she leaned her head against his neck and closed her eyes.

“Do I get a brain-hug this time?” he teased, and she chuckled.

“You can have,” she allowed grandly, her cheek still pressed to his neck, “my bestest, most specialest brain hug ever.”

He closed his eyes and for a second, barely a second, he felt it. A warm, relaxing, comforting feeling that everything was understood, everything was forgiven. The ugliness of the things he had done, the conflict over the ends justifying the means, it was all scraped up and mixed with water, moulded into bricks and used to build the new walls he needed. The new surface of the wall dried, the story of its creation recorded. It was set down in The History Of His Soul, Volume Four, and with her hands steadying the ladder, he climbed up to the correct dusty bookshelf and pushed it on securely, wiping his hands of it.

The feeling was gone as abruptly as it had arrived. He opened his eyes and she lifted her head from his neck. She looked up at him, still holding him tightly.

“That better?” she asked cheekily.

“God, I love psychics,” he teased. She released his shoulders at last, sliding her hands down his arms, secretly pleased he did not yet have a heavy shirt or jacket on.

“Ok, time to go. I have your number.”

“Good. You run into any trouble, you call us.”

“Oh, I will,” she warned. She winked, squeezed at his ample biceps, then let him go. She turned and walked around the car, opening the door and sliding into the driver’s seat.

Pamela gave a little wave in the general direction of the boys’ voices and Sam bent down to wave at Moon through the Charger.

“Bye Sam! Keep him and Angel out of trouble!” she called.

“I’ll try!” he shrugged.

She started the car, revved it over a few times, and then spun off toward the road.

Sam watched, shaking his head, as the car found the main road. The horn honked twice and hands came out both side windows, waving in the dusty air. Dean appeared next to him, watching.

“You think they’ll be alright?” Sam asked with a smile.

“I think they’ll be great,” he chuckled. He took a deep breath, looking around. “So, is this all wrapped up now?”

“Looks like,” Sam nodded.

They turned and walked back to the Impala, Sam opening the door and sliding into the passenger’s seat. Dean opened the rear door, waving Angel in and onto her blanket. She hopped up and turned around, watching him close the door. He got in the driver’s door and she lifted her head and rested it on the top of the seat next to his shoulder. He grinned, turning and scrubbing at her head soundly. She snuffled and stuck her tongue out, extremely impressed.

“Can we go now?” Sam sighed.

Dean gave Angel’s ear one last scratch before turning to the ignition again. “Sure.”

“Did you find a place for her to go to?”

“Yeah. Only we’ll miss them tonight and they don’t open till Tuesday.”

“Dean.”

“Whut?”

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Am not! Look, the girl said it was the best place cos they look after their animals,” he protested. He nodded to the motel entrance. “Go in and ask if you don’t believe me.”

Sam sighed to himself, wishing his life had not boiled down to removing every last pleasure from his brother’s day. He loves the mutt. He should be allowed to keep her. But… really? She is not looking at a decent life span if she stays with us. It’s for the best.

Dean realised his brother hadn’t spoken and looked at him. Sam was still looking at the dashboard like he was trying to comfort it after it had heard the plant that had made it had just burnt down. Dean did a double-take at his expression.

Sam noticed and tried to wipe his face clear. Unsuccessfully. “What?” he asked quickly.

“Ok seriously - did she learn that look from you or did you learn that look from her?” Dean asked, his thumb indicating the dog behind him, watching the younger brother with definitely pinched eyes.

“Shut up.”

Dean grinned as he started the car. He reversed her out and into the road slowly, sliding her into Drive and taking off down the road. Angel moved across her blanket on the back seat to stick her head out of the rear window, and it caught Dean’s eye as he checked his side mirror. He chuckled to himself.

“What now?” Sam asked.

“Nothing,” Dean said quickly. “Anyway. Job done, girls going home together, one bad seal intact. Everything’s cool.”

“Yeah,” Sam allowed.

Dean looked at him side-on before watching the road. “Whut?”

“Nothing.”

“Ok.”

It was silent for a good twenty minutes.

“It’s just that - you know what I don’t get?” Sam asked with abrupt urgency.

“Girls’ phone numbers?” Dean hazarded.

Sam sighed quietly. “To open the brick and therefore the seal, we were supposed to use a silver knife.”

“Which I kinda did when I smashed ‘em together in my pocket,” Dean admitted.

“With the blood of an innocent man on it?” Sam added.

“Well I cut ma hand on the--”

“That’s my point - since when have you been innocent?” Sam grinned.

Dean’s mouth worked silently as the question went round his head. He latched onto something and went with it. “There are degrees of innocence, Sam,” he blustered.

“Dude, is there a single one of the ten commandments you haven’t broken?” he chuckled.

Dean’s face scrunched up as he thought about it. “Uh… Don’t know. What are they again?”

“That’s a no,” Sam laughed.

“No, there’s gotta be one,” Dean protested. He put his hand out, waving it in a circle at his brother. “List ‘em.”

“What? Why?” Sam chuckled.

“Do it. C’mon dude, list them,” Dean offered.

“Dean, I am not even going to bother checking. Just be happy that someone ‘up there’ still considers you innocent enough.”

Angel barked from the back seat, but Dean was quiet for a long moment. Then his eyes slid to his younger brother before his head turned to look at him.

“What?” Sam dared.

“Well… say that I had… I’d borrowed your phone to call some chick… and then later I told her that irritating Blackberry thing was actually mine so she’d be impressed… Would that constitute coveting your neighbour’s possessions?” Dean asked, unsure.

“You’re joking,” Sam stated, pretending he wasn’t smiling on the inside.

“No. If I was joking I’d say…” He paused, his eyes sliding from side to side as he thought. He snapped his fingers suddenly. “If I was joking, I’d say: when is a seal not a seal?”

He turned a beatific smile on his younger sibling. Sam thought about it, shaking his head. Dean opened his mouth, but Sam had a flash of inspiration and tried to reply first. It brought the two brothers’ next sentence entirely into sync, one voice lower, one voice thinner, but both of them very much amused:

“When it’s a bat.”

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FIN

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Ta for reading to the very end, everyone! I promise I will try to make my next tale a damn sight shorter - I honestly thought this one was never going to end. Hope you spotted the not-too-subtle Firefly reference, too…

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