Sarcasm or Suckage

from part two






Dean looked around him. The landscape was endless, the vegetation lush and abundant. “Wow,” he breathed.


“Yeah,” Sam echoed. Dean turned to look at Sam, who was turning in a slow circle, taking everything in around him.


“You doing okay, dude?” Dean asked.


“I feel pretty amazing actually,” Sam admitted. “The normal time-travel nausea, but otherwise good.”


Dean laughed a little. “The fact that ‘normal’ and ‘time-travel’ are in a sentence tells me that our lives are seriously screwed up.”


Sam’s mouth curved in a smile. “The Winchesters seem to specialize in screwed up,” he said.


Dean squinted. “I see a light over in that direction.” He pointed, and Sam’s gaze followed his arm.


“I could make a joke right now about going into the light,” Sam said. Dean had missed this snarky, sarcastic side of Sam. Since the whole thing with Ruby and Lucifer and the literal end of the world, Sam hadn’t played around too much. He’d taken things too seriously, blamed himself for a lot of shit that hadn’t been in his control. Dean kept trying to remedy that.


“So, I guess we’d better get moving,” Dean said and stared walking in the direction of the glowing light in the distance. Sam moved up next to him and the silence was comfortable.


“So, about that soul-sharing thing,” Sam started.


Dean groaned. “Geez, Sammy, can we not do the deep and meaningful conversation right before we have to go into battle with giants?”


Sam just looked at him, waiting for Dean to agree to ‘talking’. Fuck’s sake. Sam was totally using the puppy eyes. Completely unacceptable.


“Fine,” Dean groused. “How about you talk and I listen?”


“As opposed to how you talk about feelings all the time, Dean?” Sam glared at him.


Dean threw up his hands, and the tattoo on his arm gave a throb. “Whatever, dude. I’m all ears. I’m all of the Roman countrymen.”


“You are such an asshole,” Sam told him.


“I’ve honed my skills over the years,” Dean agreed and stuck his hands deep into his jacket pocket. “So, talk, emo-boy.”


“If I’d known that I’d taken a piece of your soul…” Sam began.


Dean held up a hand. “Shut the fuck up, right there, Sammy,” he said. “Neither of us was aware of what happened until Cas told us, so there’s nobody that needs to take a whip to their back.” He met Sam’s eyes. “Got it?”


“Yeah,” Sam looked down at his feet as they walked. “But if I hadn’t…”


“God, Sam, just…no.” Dean shoved an arm in front of Sam and brought them both to a halt. “I swear, you’ve made self-blame an art-form.”


Sam’s mouth was tight. “I’ve made mistakes,” he said, voice low and pained.


“And so have I!” Dean wanted this to get through to Sam's self-flagellating soul. “Sam, we’ve both fucked up so many times, and the world is still standing, we’re still alive, so I’m going to count that as a good thing.”


Sam still wouldn’t look at him. “You don’t know everything,” he said.


“I know all I need to know,” Dean said firmly. “You’re the only person in this world that means anything to me, and that’s seriously all I need to know.”


“Do you want to know why I took the trials on myself?” Sam asked and lifted his gaze. Dean hated the misery he saw in Sam’s face.


“Because you’re an asshole who likes to sacrifice himself?” Dean suggested.


Sam shook his head. “Because I have to pay for my sins,” he said, “and I figured that this was a good way to
start.”


Dean rubbed his nose. “Sam, you went to Hell, you were Lucifer’s bitch for who knows how long down there, I think that whatever the fuck you think you need to pay for, that’s covered.”


Sam shook his head. “Do you know what the original sin was?” he asked suddenly.


Dean was confused at the change of subject. “Uh, Adam and Eve listened to the devil and ate the apple?” he guessed.


“No,” Sam said, “the original sin was pride.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “The devil wanted to be like God and wanted humans to worship him like they worshipped God.”


“What the hell does that have to do with you?” Dean asked. “Do you want me to worship you? Or, wait, you worship me?”


Sam blew out a breath. “Sometimes I wonder how you are still alive,” he said.


“Sorry if I can’t always follow Sam-logic,” Dean muttered.


“What I’m trying to say is that I took on the trials because I felt that I needed to make penance for something big, something serious.” Sam kicked at a stone in the grass.


Dean gazed around and noticed that there were animals everywhere. Figured that when it came to Sam, everything else just disappeared. “Something bigger than starting the Apocalypse?” Dean asked. “Because, seriously, I was the one who actually did that when I got off the rack in hell.”


Sam shook his head. “I’ve never talked about this to you before,” he said. “And to be honest, I don’t want to talk about it now, but the whole ‘piece of my soul is in you’ thing has made me realize that there’s a reason why we’re so unsuccessful at real life relationships.”


“Because we’re hunters and kill vampires and werewolves and know the truth about angels and demons and shit?” Dean suggested. “Sam, we’re never going to have normal lives.”


“We both tried,” Sam pointed out. “You with Lisa and Ben and me with Amelia.” He stopped for a moment and swallowed hard, “and Jess.”


Dean could feel his face heat up. “Don’t start that again, Sammy,” he warned. Amelia was a subject that neither of them had touched since Dean’s last dick move with the phone call. And they never talked about Jess. Ever.


“What I’m trying to say is that we’re messed up,” Sam was irritated. “Our whole lives, since Azazel and Mom and the fire, we’ve been messed up.”


Dean stared at him. “That isn’t new information, dude.” He watched as a herd of zebra walked across the path in front of them. He wondered just how weird his life was that walking in a real-life game park was not the source of his focus. “We grew up wrong, shit happens.”


Sam stopped as a big zebra wandered up to him and snuffled at his jacket. “How is this even possible?” he asked, distracted from his thoughts and words.


Dean crouched down to scratch at the head of a baby zebra who kept head-butting his knee. “They don’t know that humans kill, yet,” he said, grateful for the momentary change of topic.


A roar from behind a copse of trees made them both tense, Sam had the demon knife out before the sound had finished echoing in the sky and Dean’s gun was cocked and loaded in his hand. The zebras didn’t pay it any attention though and carried on with their lazy stroll across the plain.


The sight of four lions coming through the trees made Dean tense. “Sam,” he breathed.


“I see them.” The lions didn’t seem too interested in the zebras, so Dean wondered if the squishy, slow humans looked a little more appetizing. Then the giant male dropped his head and grabbed a chunk of grass with his teeth and proceeded to chew on it as though it was the most delicious thing ever.


“What the…” Dean couldn’t believe what he was seeing.


“That’s right!” Sam exclaimed. “According to the Bible account, it was only after the Flood that humans started eating animals and then animals started eating each other.”


“The fact that you know this disturbs me,” Dean said and waved towards the big cats. “But it’s after the Flood and they’re eating grass.”


Sam shrugged, “Maybe it’s too soon,” he suggested. “Maybe humans haven’t spread out yet and animals haven’t learned to be afraid of them.”


Dean stared as a cub tumbled out of the trees, followed by three others. “This is one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen and, man you know I’ve seen some strange things.”


Sam just nodded and then froze when one of the cubs sniffed at his boots. “Uh, Dean…”


Dean tried not to laugh at the expression of sheer panic on Sam’s face. “It’s just a baby lion, Sam, no biggie.”


“Such an asshole,” Sam muttered and then stumbled back when the cub bit down on his foot. “Ow!” he yelped.


In a moment, a lioness was next to the cub, one big paw on its head and huge golden eyes staring into Sam’s. Dean held his breath, wondering if this was the moment that lions would find a taste for meat. However, she didn’t do anything other than pick up the cub by the scruff of its neck with careful teeth and carry it back to the family unit.


Dean let out his breath in a whoosh. “Woah! That was intense.” When Sam didn’t reply, he looked over and saw that his giant girl of a baby brother was busy running his fingers through the black mane of the king of the pride. “Yeah, ‘cos that’s just how we roll,” Dean muttered.


They spent several minutes with the lion pride, allowing the cubs to tackle them and take them to the ground with tiny growls and sharp teeth. The females never let them get too rough, and the big male made a chuffing noise every time he thought his children were being a little too hard on the weak humans. Dean would remember these moments for the rest of his life.


Eventually the pride headed back into the brush, one of the cubs biting its mother’s tail and, Dean would swear, grinning at them as they blended into the undergrowth.


“God,” Sam breathed, staring after them.


“Yeah,” Dean agreed and nudged Sam’s shoulder. “We’d better get going,” he said. “Gardens to find, giants to stab.”


Sam got to his feet and offered Dean a hand. “We’re not finished talking.”


Dean sighed. “Dude, I really think we should keep the deep shit until we get back home.”


“And if we don’t get back home?” Sam asked.


Dean raised a shoulder in a shrug. “Then we’ve got a fucking long time to talk about it,” he said.


Sam stared at him for a while and then nodded. “Fine, but I’m going to hold you to that.”


“I swear,” Dean held up his hands. “We can talk about feelings until they bleed out of our ears.”


Sam snorted a laugh but his step seemed a little lighter.


“Well, what do we have here?” A smooth voice made them both jump and whirl around.


“Balthazar?” Sam asked in disbelief.


The very-dead-in-their-time angel stopped smiling. “How do you know my name?” he demanded, his sharp face wary.


Dean was pretty sure smiting was on the cards so he pulled out Castiel’s feather and waved it frantically at Balthazar like some sort of talisman. “We come in peace!” he yelled. “Emissaries for good! Heroes! We’re the fucking Winchesters!”


Balthazar stared between them. “And what the hell are you doing with my brother’s feather?”


“My name is Sam Winchester, and this is my brother Dean. Castiel gave his feather to us as a way of identifying us to his brothers,” Sam decided to step in; obviously thinking that Dean didn’t have this handled at all. “When he sent us back here.”


Balthazar still looked suspicious, but less inclined to run them through with an angel sword. “Back from where?” he asked.


“The future,” Dean supplied helpfully, “back from the future.” He grinned. He was totally Doc Brown. Or maybe Marty McFly. Whatever, Sam was Lea Thompson, Marty’s mom.


Sam’s eyes rolled so hard they practically fell out of his head. “You are such a nerd,” he told Dean. “Castiel sent us back to deal with the Nephilim,” he told Balthazar.


“But they are the children of my brothers,” Balthazar said, eyes narrowed. “When you say ‘deal with’, what exactly do you mean?”


Dean wanted to tell Balthazar that he was sorry for the way things had worked out for him, what with Castiel going all crazy power-tripping douchebag on everyone’s ass. But then again, mentioning how Castiel would kill him in the future was maybe not the best way to get him on their side.


Sam had obviously appointed himself the spokesman. “According to Castiel, in our time, the children of the Nephilim have knowledge of the location of the Tree of Life.”


“But that’s forbidden!” Balthazar looked genuinely appalled. “Surely God would not allow it?”


Dean wasn’t sure how to break the truth to him. “God isn’t really interested in earth and humans in our time, man.”


“But,” Balthazar stopped. “You can’t tell me,” he said, understanding what they weren’t saying.


Dean shook his head. “Cas told us that we shouldn’t fuck around with the time-line too much,” he said. “We don’t want to change history.”


“Cas?” Balthazar’s eyebrows arched. “You seem very familiar with my brother.” His mouth twisted a little. “Castiel isn’t exactly the life and soul of the party in heaven.”


Dean grinned. “He’s apparently a little more relaxed in our day, according to the other angels we’ve met, including you, by the way.”


The smile on Balthazar’s face was delighted. “You know me?” he asked.


“We do,” Sam sent Dean a warning look, “but we can’t really say much more.”


Dean held up one hand. “Just one thing,” he said. “Forget about the Titanic.”


“The Titanic?” Balthazar’s brow furrowed in confusion.


“Never mind,” Sam glared at Dean. “Ignore what Dean just said.”


“So, all kidding aside, what are you supposed to do with the Nephilim?” Balthazar asked.


Sam tipped his head in inquiry at Dean. “Should we show him?”


Dean shrugged. “He could make it easier to get to Gabriel.”


“Okay,” Sam rolled up his sleeve and Dean followed suit. The tattoos of the Scimitar of Heaven and the Blade of Hades were raised on their forearms.


Balthazar took a couple of steps back. “Is that..?” he pointed at Dean. “How do you..?” He couldn’t seem to find the words. And then went pale when he realized what the tattoo on Sam’s arm was. “Lucifer’s mark!” he hissed and raised his sword again.


“Wait!” Dean stepped in front of Sam. “We were given these weapons by Castiel and the King of Hell.” He wasn’t sure if he should name Crowley but it was so early in the time of the rebellion in heaven that it was unlikely that Crowley was even a blip on the angel radar.


“Only a creature of hell can carry the Blade of Hades,” Balthazar’s eyes blazed. “What are you, Sam Winchester?”


“Uh,” Sam said. “Human with a little bit of time spent in hell.” He sighed and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “There’s a lot we can’t tell you, but we really are trying to do the right thing here.”


Balthazar came closer again and peered at Dean’s arm, hissing as he touched the raised edges of the Scimitar of Heaven. He lifted his hand and showed them the blood on his finger. “The Scimitar cuts even though it is part of you,” he said. “It should not be possible; it is not meant for human hands.”


Dean shrugged. “All I know is that one second we were holding the swords and the next they were gone and we had these on our arms,” he pointed at the tattoos. “Not quite sure how they are supposed to work against the Nephilim now, but we’re hoping something happens to let us know what to do.”


Balthazar looked away from them, towards the shining light that didn’t seem any nearer to Dean. “And you think Gabriel has answers for you?”


“Castiel said that Gabriel would be able to help us locate the Nephilim,” Sam tipped his head towards the light. “We don’t want to enter Eden; we just need to stop the Nephilim from doing it and finding the Tree of Life.”


Balthazar frowned. “I suppose I could take you there,” he mused. “Gabriel can be a touch testy.”


“Testy?” Dean asked. He really didn’t like the sound of ‘testy’. Testy in angel terms usually meant dickishness and smiting happened.


“He’s been stuck guarding that infernal garden for the last thousand years,” Balthazar explained. “He’s gone past boredom and straight to homicidal.”


“Great,” Dean said. “Crazy, murderous angels on top of giant, wanna-be immortal half-angels. This trip keeps getting better.”


Sam tapped Dean’s shoulder. “We only have a day,” he reminded Dean. “We’ve used up two hours already. We need to get moving.”


“So, about that lift to Eden,” Dean looked at Balthazar.


“This could be fun,” Balthazar agreed and reached out to touch them both on the forehead.


Dean hated angel-travel. It left half of his stomach back where he started and the other half trying to climb out of his throat. When he opened his eyes, the light was painfully bright.


“Who goes there?” a voice boomed, echoing through Dean, resonating down to his bones.


“Oh for…” Balthazar shouted, “It’s me, you ass!”


“Balthazar?” the booming voice was only slightly quieter, but the light dimmed almost immediately.



“Tone down the drama, please, Gabriel,” Balthazar waved a hand in front of him as though he was clearing away smoke.


Gabriel leveled a glare at him. “I can’t help it if the glory that is me is too much for you to…hello?” he stared at Sam and Dean. “Humans? At the gates of Eden?” He raised a hand in threat, and Balthazar stepped in front of them.


“Hold your horses, big brother, they come in peace.” He showed Gabriel the feather Dean had given him. “Our little brother, Castiel, sent these two back in time to kill the Nephilim.”


“Kill the children of my brothers?” Gabriel’s voice was terrible and Dean felt the weight of it pushing him to the ground. The archangel’s light was a burning pain across his skin.


“They’re planning on eating from the Tree of Life!” Sam shouted.


The crushing sound stopped. “What?” Gabriel stared at them. “That isn’t possible. I am the guardian to Eden and no-one can get past me.” He indicated the massive sword that spun, suspended in the air between two huge trees.


“Uh…” Dean wasn’t quite sure how to tell Gabriel that he was actually no longer in this world in the future.


“The only way that anyone can gain access to Eden is if I am not…” Gabriel stopped and went pale. “I’m dead in your time, aren’t I?” It wasn’t a question.


Sam shrugged apologetically. “Sorry to have to tell you, but yeah.”


“Although, for what it’s worth,” Dean interjected. “Total hero’s death, dude. Apart from the porn.” He shuddered, remembering Gabriel’s farewell to them. Gabriel just looked bewildered.


Balthazar put a comforting hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Perhaps we can change the future if we change this past?”


Dean had wondered just how much they would end up changing by destroying the Nephilim. It made his head hurt.


“I don’t want to rush anyone,” Sam said, “but we’re on a very tight schedule here.”


Gabriel’s gaze was piercing as he looked at Sam. “How far back have you come?” he asked.


“Give or take two thousand years,” Sam said.


Gabriel nodded. “That sort of time-trip would need a little more power than the average angel would have, and my little brother is pretty average.”


“Hey!” Dean felt obliged to defend Castiel. “Cas isn’t all that average!” He moved out of the way of Sam’s hand. “No seriously, he’s done some bad-ass shit.”


Sam snorted. “And some bad-ass shit,” he said.


Dean had to acknowledge that. “Yeah, he’s had his moments of douchetasticness, but he’s a friend, so we’ve cut him a little more slack than others.”


“And that’s been so good for all of us,” Sam’s tone was dry. Dean didn’t like to think too hard on the days after Sam’s wall had come tumbling down due to one of those asshole moves. It had taken him a long time to forgive Castiel, but he would never forget. Angels weren’t to be trusted. He’d learned that lesson all too well.


“My, my, I’m sensing a little resentment,” Balthazar sidled up to Sam. “What did Castiel do to you, dear boy?”


Sam stared at him. “Do you have any idea how creepy that sounds?” he asked. Dean grinned. Angels were dicks and they brought out the absolute worst in Sam.


Balthazar scowled at him. “I’m a pure being,” he said, putting a hand to his chest. “The driven snow, that’s me.”


Gabriel’s smirk was small but significant. “Not for lack of trying,” he observed.


Balthazar’s eyes sparkled. “I was a little too late for the ladies,” he nodded, “but on the plus side, at least that means I have no offspring needing to be put down.”


Gabriel sobered. “What do you need from me?” he asked.


Dean was surprised. “I expected to have to do a little more persuading,” he admitted.


“If anyone eats of the Tree of Life while mortal, it will give that one immortality.” Gabriel was very grave. “That cannot come to pass.”


“Cas told us that you may know where we can find them,” Sam said. “We can’t waste any more time.”


“I believe they are in the mountains,” Gabriel said and pointed towards the east.


“How did they survive the Flood?” Sam asked.


Gabriel blew out a breath. “That is sort of my fault,” he confessed. “I knew that my brothers would be devastated if all their children were destroyed, so I managed to shelter three of them at the entrance to Eden.”


Sam looked over at where the enormous sword revolved slowly in the air. “You protected them, and now we’re facing the consequences?”


Gabriel winced. “I didn’t plan to do anything other than take care of my brothers’ children.”


“Gabriel,” Balthazar shook his head. “Well done on stuffing up royally. Do you know what the Lord is going to do to you when He finds out?”


“I'm sure he knows already,” Gabriel said. “But I couldn't just let them all die.”


“Well, they're our problem now,” Dean said. “So we'd like to fix it as quickly as possible and then head back home if you don't mind.”


“I'm assuming that fixing means killing,” Gabriel said. “I don't think I could kill a child.”


“So, tell us where they are and we’ll take care of them,” Dean said. He flexed his arm and felt the slow-burn-hum of the Scimitar of Heaven beneath his skin.


“It’s not that easy,” Gabriel said. “There are more of them now.”


“How many?” Sam asked.


“Eight,” he said. “Maybe nine, no more than ten.”


“That’s what Cas said,” Dean noted, nodding to Sam.


“Our brother is surprisingly well-informed,” Balthazar said.


“Apparently you lot keep records,” Sam said.


“That is Raphael’s doing, I bet,” Gabriel glowered. “Ever the scholar.”


“Some things haven’t changed in millennia,” Balthazar agreed. He looked at Sam and Dean. “Even with the weapons you’re carrying, two humans won’t be able to take on two Nephilim, let alone ten of them.”


“We’re pretty good in a fight,” Dean defended. “We’ve had a lot of practice.”


“The Nephilim are powerful,” Gabriel said. “You may need some help.”


“Hello,” Balthazar raised a hand. “I hope you’re not volunteering my services because I’d really like Michael not to want to kill me for the rest of eternity.”


“Okay, so let the puny humans face the Nephilim, and you explain to Michael in two thousand years why his children are immortal.” Gabriel folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, watching Balthazar.


“Excuse you,” Balthazar’s eyes glowed white. “Since when have you been so quick to help the children of men?”


“Since I don’t want to be an angel kebab on the end of a Nephilim stick!” Gabriel yelled, and thunder cracked loud across the sky.


“Now that’s cool,” Dean said to Sam. “Pity he couldn’t have done that when we knew him.”


“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gabriel asked. “Am I not an archangel?”


“The Gabriel we got to know was a little less about the rolling thunder and a little more about the sins of the flesh,” Dean told him.


Balthazar laughed and clapped a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “The Lord finally let you off your leash?” he said, waving the other hand towards the garden. Then he stopped laughing. “Wait a minute, if Gabriel isn’t guarding the entrance to Eden in your time, then who is?”


“Nobody knows where it is anymore,” Sam told him. “Cas put us as close to what he remembered as its location, but the knowledge of Eden has disappeared from history.”


“Yeah,” Dean agreed, “most people think that the Garden of Eden is a myth or a fairytale.”


Both of the angels’ eyes went wide. “Please tell me you’re joking?” Balthazar begged.


“Nope,” Dean raised a shoulder. “The future pretty much sucks as far as God and faith goes.”


“That’s even more reason to get involved,” Gabriel said. “Maybe we can change the future.”


Dean felt a chill run down his spine. “Changing the future might not be the smartest thing,” he said.


“Well, killing the Nephilim is already going to change things,” Gabriel reasoned. “Right?”


Sam met Dean’s gaze. “We don’t have a clue how though,” Sam admitted.


“The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can find out,” Dean said. Sam nodded.


“So, just one small question,” Balthazar poked at Dean’s arm without touching the tattoo. “Do either of you have any idea how to get the swords out of your bodies when you need them?”


Dean looked at Sam again. “Not a fucking clue,” he said.


“Brilliant.” Balthazar sighed. “This plan is going swimmingly so far.”


Gabriel stepped closer. “The Scimitar of Heaven is made to manifest when it’s needed,” he said. His mouth turned down when he looked at the tattoo on Sam’s arm. “I can only assume the same would happen with that thing.”


“Hey!” Dean protested. “That’s my brother, dickhead! We’re the only thing that can stand between you assholes and the Nephilim right now.”


Gabriel’s eyes burned. “I know you in the future and still let you live?” he asked Dean.


“I’m an acquired taste,” Dean admitted. “But then, so are you.”


“Right,” Balthazar clapped his hands together. “I think we should get going.” He looked at Gabriel. “I look forward to fighting beside you once more, brother.”


Gabriel smiled and Dean saw the future in that small curve of lips. He nodded and raised his hands. “Hold tight,” Gabriel said and Dean felt his stomach wrench again as time and space twisted around him.


*****


The mountains rose on either side of them. Dean looked up, and it was jagged rock jutting up until the cliffs almost met in the middle, slicing the sky open.


“It reminds me of Petra,” Sam said.


“You know a girl that looks like stone?” Dean asked but allowed his mouth to tilt up at the corner. He loved winding Sam up by pretending to be dumb about shit he knew.


“Such an asshole,” Sam told him but he was smiling a little too.


“They know we are here,” Gabriel said, and Dean looked over to where he was standing, angel sword out and ready.


“Yeah, ‘cos we were so stealthy and all,” Dean grumbled and jumped when the ground shook. “What the fuck?” He stumbled back into Sam, who reached out and steadied him. The tattoo on Dean’s arm whined a little and Dean felt his heart beat hard and fast.


“Who goes here?” A voice called from the shadows in the distance. Dean squinted to try and see the body belonging to the voice.


A moment later, a giant stepped into the light trickling down from the sliver of sky. Dean felt his throat close up. The dude was fucking huge, at least a foot and a half taller than Sam. Dean wasn’t going to be able to call Sam a Sasquatch any more. Not after this.


“Holy shit,” Sam breathed.


“You are not welcome here, Gabriel,” the giant glared at Gabriel. “We have rewarded you for protecting us when the Lord brought the Flood, but that debt is paid.”


“Really?” Balthazar drawled, casting an unfriendly eye over at Gabriel. “Just what were you rewarded with, brother dear?”


“Nothing important,” Gabriel replied, but the tips of his ears were a little pink. Dean thought that he was definitely going to have to investigate that a little more. Once the whole dealing with giants thing was done.


“You bring humans to our most sacred place,” the giant accused.


“It has come to our knowledge that your people plan mutiny, Japheth.” Gabriel’s hand was casual but the sharp glint of the angel sword was not.


“We live in peace here,” Japheth replied, and his eyes slid across to Sam and Dean once more. “Humans are not supposed to know that we exist.”


“Well, see, that’s part of the problem,” Dean said and felt the Scimitar of Heaven like a pulse of heat in his arm. “You haven’t stayed hidden.”


“You are not from this place,” Japheth stated, watching Dean carefully. “You are not from this time.”


Sam stood next to Dean, his pose relaxed but ready. Dean wondered how the hell they were supposed to use the weapons of Heaven and Hell if all they did was play at being tattoos. “We came back to stop you,” Sam said.


“Stop us from doing what?” Japheth asked but his eyes were flat and Dean knew he knew exactly what they were talking about.


“Oh, you know,” Dean kept his voice neutral, “trying to eat from the Tree of Life and gain immortality.”


Japheth looked at Dean, nothing friendly in his black eyes. “We are the offspring of angels,” he said. “We deserve more than a miserable existence hiding away from mortals and angels.”


“You have been given power and strength beyond that of humans,” Gabriel said. “By even thinking about this you are committing blasphemy. The Lord...”


“The Lord?” Japheth spat the title like an epithet. “The Lord was quite happy to destroy us all in his deluge.” His lip curled in a sneer. “Not even my father, Michael, dared step up and fight for us.” He shook his head. “We were abandoned like chaff to the wind. We owe no loyalty to anyone.”


“But I protected you,” Gabriel said, and there was something sad in his voice. Dean thought that it might be the moment that Gabriel's innocence was finally lost. “I gave you shelter and provided you with a home.”


“And left us to scavenge from the earth,” Japheth said. His eyes flashed then, and Dean braced himself. “We are loyal to ourselves and claim the fruit of the tree as our birthright.” He lunged for Gabriel, who brought his sword up lightning fast, and the sound of metal clashing rang through the narrow crevasse.


Balthazar leaned over to Dean and murmured, “Anytime now.”


“What?” Dean asked.


Balthazar raised an eyebrow. “The Scimitar?” he pointed at Dean's arm. “The angel sword will not kill the Nephilim, and my brother is about to be badly beaten.”


Dean looked back to where Japheth and Gabriel were fighting. The size difference was enough to make Dean snort a laugh, but Gabriel fought with a purpose and determination that Dean had never seen on the angel he'd known in his time.


“Any idea how to get these things out of us?” Dean asked, looking between Sam and Balthazar.


“Don't ask me,” Balthazar held up his hands. “I don't even know how you're carrying them and still breathing.”


The ground trembled again and Dean braced himself as three more huge guys stepped out of the darkness. Dean knew that they weren't going to be allowed to remain observers for much longer. “Shit,” he muttered.


Sam nudged Dean with his shoulder, never taking his eyes from the men in front of them. “Maybe we should try putting the tattoos together again,” he suggested. “It seemed to have a pretty spectacular effect the last time.”


“Concussion isn't really the result we're looking for, Sammy,” Dean said.


Sam glared at him. “We can't just stand here,” he said.


Dean sighed. Half-assed plans were usually his thing, and they tended to go very wrong, very fast. “Fine,” he said, “but I'm just saying, if I wake up and I've missed the fight...” he lifted his arm.


Sam was a heartbeat behind him and pressed his forearm to Dean's. For a moment, nothing happened, and Dean wondered if they were going to die in the past. And then the tattoo started burning.


He gasped out a breath and Balthazar shoved at him. He took Sam to the ground with him, arms still touching from wrist to elbow, and Sam's body was shaking beneath his.


Dean lifted his head to shout at Balthazar but realized that the angel had basically saved their lives. While they had been focused on trying to get the swords out of their arms, the three Nephilim had attacked. Balthazar was woefully out-matched.


Dean looked down at his arm, and saw that the tattoo had vanished. The Scimitar of Heaven lay on the ground next to him and he reached over to pick it up.


“Dean!” Sam called, and Dean saw Sam climb to his feet, the Blade of Hades tightly gripped in one hand, the demon knife in the other. “You okay?”


Dean got up, hand curled around the hilt of the sword, and nodded. “I'm good,” he said and lifted his other hand, aimed and fired at one of the Nephilim fighting with Balthazar. The crack of the gun echoed and bounced against the high, narrow walls, and everyone froze.


“How about we have a little talk, guys?” Dean asked. The Nephilim that he'd shot raised a hand to his shoulder and stared in surprise at the blood on his fingers when he pulled it away.


“What is this magic that you wield?” one of the giants rumbled.

Dean waggled the Colt at him. He was going to have to give them names. “Future magic,” Dean said. “It can't kill you, I'm told, but it sure as fuck can slow you down.” He fired again, hitting the one who'd questioned him square in the chest. Red blew across the expanse of skin, and the Nephilim staggered back into the cliff-face behind him.


“Shem!” Japheth's roar made Dean look back over to him. Gabriel was on his back, Japheth's sword at his throat.


“I am not mortally wounded, brother,” Shem replied, his hand on his chest in much the same state of wonder as
the other had been. “This human weapon is loud but not able to kill us.”


Gabriel used Japheth's distraction to move himself away from the sword threatening to sever his head from his torso. He blinked out of sight and blinked back again beside Dean. “Now would be a good time to use those things,” he said, nodding at the Scimitar in Dean’s hand. “Much as I rate myself as a fighter, the Nephilim cannot be killed by angel hands.”


“Right,” Dean said, and he looked at Sam. “Got my back?”


Sam nodded, and they stood back to back as Japheth and Shem approached them.


“We’ll hold the others off in the meanwhile,” Balthazar called.


“Others?” Sam asked, and Dean felt his heart sink when he saw a few more Nephilim leave the shadows and come towards them.


“The children of men are not meant to wield the weapons of God,” Japheth sneered. “The imperfect sinners should not put their hands on the Scimitar of Heaven.”


“Eh,” Dean shrugged and firmed his grip. “You’re not all that special, you know.”


Japheth’s face twisted in rage. “I am the son of Michael, archangel of the Lord, and you are not worthy to touch a hair on my head!” He rushed towards Dean, his sword almost the length of Dean’s entire body.


“Now, Sammy!” Dean called, and he ducked as the giant blade swung in a wide arc over his head. Sam spun on his heel, the Blade of Hades raised and Dean followed him around, keeping at Sam’s back all the time.


The Blade of Hades seemed to scream through the air, and Sam found the soft part of Japheth’s belly between the leather breastplate and loin-guard. Japheth’s eyes went wide and dark. “This is a mortal blow,” he gasped as he staggered back, sword dropping from his hand.


Dean watched the blood pouring out of the wound. The hellsword had found its mark and dug deep, gouging out a valley in the Nephilim’s flesh.


“Dean!” Gabriel caught his attention, and he turned away from the dying giant to face his equally huge brother.


“You killed my brother!” Shem roared.


“Well, technically, that was Sam, but I’m okay with taking the credit,” Dean said and dodged the vicious swipe of Shem’s blade.


He darted in, and the Scimitar was an arrow in his hand, finding the Achilles’ tendon and slicing in and across so that Shem fell to the floor with a shout of pain. Dean moved quickly forward, standing over the fallen Nephilim. He turned the sword in his hand, angled it down like a spear and pressed hard into the vulnerable open throat beneath him. The skin parted like melting snow and Shem gargled out a scream. Dean watched him die.


“Ready for the next ones?” Gabriel and Balthazar’s angel swords moved so fast that Dean could barely see them.


He nodded. “Let them through,” he called. Two more Nephilim broke the line that Gabriel and Balthazar held and lunged towards them.


“You take the little one?” Dean laughed, and Sam shook his head. The giants they were facing were almost exactly the same height.


“Fucker,” Sam shouted back. “You find fun in the weirdest things.”


“It’s one of the things you love most about me, Sammy,” Dean said and raced towards the big guy on the left. Just before he fell within reach of the sword cutting through the air towards him, he threw himself into a slide, skidding on his ass on the rough sand of the canyon floor and slid through the open legs of the Nephilim aiming for his heart.


He shoved his arm up, the Scimitar of Heaven singing death as it cut into the softest flesh of the inner thigh, the artery bursting open and blood gushing out in a pulsing fountain. Dean was covered in it.


“You alright?” Sam called, and Dean wiped the blood from his eyes to see Sam holding the fourth Nephilim at bay.


“I’m good,” he stuck up a thumb. “You?”


“Could use a little help here,” Sam admitted as he danced out of the way of the sharp spike at the end of the leather strap that number four was swinging.


“On my way,” Dean said. He clambered to his feet, slipping a little in the pool of blood around him.


“Anytime soon!” Sam shouted. He threw himself to the side, narrowly escaping decapitation.


“Just gimme a second,” Dean scowled, and then stumbled to his knees again as something hit him between his shoulders. “Seriously?” he dropped to his belly, feeling the air part above his head as another one of the Nephilim attacked.


“Dean!” Sam shouted; sudden panic in his voice.


“It’s okay, I’m okay!” Dean shouted back. “Stay on task, man.” Dean rolled to his back and managed to just get his shoulder out of the way as a kind of axe hurtled down towards him. “Holy shit!” he yelped, scrambling to the side. Through this all, the Scimitar of Heaven had stayed in his hand as though welded to his flesh.


“The others are coming!” Gabriel’s frantic shout made Dean look over to where the angels were trying their best to hold two more Nephilim back. Dean noticed that one was a woman and another looked young, a teenager maybe. He didn’t want to kill a kid.


“Fuck!” Dean sliced blindly at the air and felt the Scimitar hit flesh, sink in, and carve bone. The Nephilim screamed above him, axe dropping from already dead fingers as guts dropped and coated Dean in blood and meat. “Fuck,” Dean breathed again and the Scimitar crooned and shook in his hand, eager to continue dispensing death.


“You need a hand there?” Balthazar was suddenly at his side, yanking him upright.


Dean swayed a little and sucked in a breath. He sort of wished that he hadn’t about a second later when his senses were assaulted with the smells of violent death.


“Carry on then,” Balthazar ordered, far too cheerfully in Dean’s opinion. “Much work still to be done here.”


Dean managed a scowl as he headed towards Sam again. “I hate all angels,” he told Sam, swinging the Scimitar up and around and catching the Nephilim who had cornered Sam across the length of his back. “Every fucking last one of them.”


“Duly noted,” Sam gasped, and Dean could actually hear the Blade of Hades sing in joy as Sam found his mark and sliced the Nephilim’s throat in one sleek move.


“Not bad,” Dean nodded and turned to face the next challenge. “How many are there supposed to be again?” He looked over at Sam who looked slightly less worse for wear than he did.


“Eight or ten,” Sam said and leaned forward a little. “Shit, they’re big motherfuckers.”


Dean nodded. “Five down and three to five to go?” He sighed. “And at least one of them is a kid,” he told Sam.


“Yeah,” Sam said and wiped the bloodied blade on his jeans. “I saw.”


“Dude, I don’t know if I can kill a kid,” Dean said. “I mean, they haven’t actually done anything yet.”


“Well, apart from trying to kill us,” Sam pointed out.


“After we invaded their space,” Dean said.


“Dean, are you trying to talk yourself out of this?” Sam asked, eyebrows practically on the back of his head they were raised so high. “Because now is a really bad time to be re-thinking our battle plans.”


“Excuse me,” Gabriel’s polite tone caused them both to look over to where he was standing, sword out and holding off three Nephilim. “Whenever the two of you are ready, you just let me know and I’ll send this lot over, alright? In the meantime, I’ll make them a meal and give them some water.”


Dean glared. “I’m sensing a little sarcasm there, Gabe.”


“Don’t call me Gabe,” Gabriel told him.


“Stop,” the woman spoke, and her voice was deep and sounded like the clash of distant bells. “Why do you do this?”


Sam straightened. “We have to stop you before you do something that puts us all in danger.”


Her smile was bitter. “So you kill us without giving us the opportunity for redemption?”


“I…” Sam seemed at a loss.


Dean looked around them and winced. It looked like a massacre. And thanks to the weapons of heaven and hell it had been. It had been easy to slice and stab and kill. He felt the Scimitar shudder in his hand and pull at him, begging and desperate to return to the battle.


“They’re from the future,” Balthazar’s voice was very quiet. “They’re here to stop you from eating from the Tree of Life.”


She stared at them all. “We have no wish to eat of the Tree,” she said, and there was truth in her tone. “We wish only to be left alone.” She reached out a hand and touched the boy. “We have never wanted anything else.”


Sam stepped a little closer, and Dean reached out to put a hand on his arm. There was still no reason to trust. They had learned this the hard way. “History paints your kind as dangerous, violent, wicked,” he said, voice even.


Dean felt a moment’s pause. “History also told us that angels were the good guys,” he said.


Sam watched her. “I’m Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean. We’re hunters and we’ve been sent back to this time to make sure that your descendants don’t eat from the Tree of Life and enslave humanity.”


When Dean heard it put out there like that, it sounded stupid. Their actions seemed rash and cruel. Kill first, ask questions later. It made them more like the angels and that wasn’t cool at all.


She lifted her chin. “I am Lilith, mother of the last of the Nephilim and the children of men hold no interest for me.”


Dean felt his insides turn to ice at her words. He glanced to where Sam was frozen in shock and fear beside him. “We’ve heard of you,” he said, and the Scimitar whispered to him, asked to be set free.


“Dean,” Sam’s voice was a terrified croak. “Is it really..?”


“I don’t know,” Dean admitted, “but I’m not willing to accept coincidence anymore, are you Sam, because I’m really, really not.”


“Yeah, no,” Sam said, and he sounded a little more normal, a little less devastated. Dean was prepared to do anything to have Sam be okay. He’d burn the whole world down to make Sam okay.


“How do you know me?” Lilith demanded, and Dean could see something in her expression, something that reminded him of a little blonde girl with whited out eyes.


“You were an enemy,” Dean said.


“Were?” Lilith asked. “I am dead in your time?”


“Yeah,” Sam said. “I killed you.” And the Blade of Hades was a flash of dark light as Sam leaped forward, Dean a moment behind him.


Lilith shoved the boy behind her. He was almost as tall as she was, well over seven feet, but his face was still puffed with the look of youth.


She lifted a hand to Sam, and he went flying, slamming into one of the cliff-faces with a groan and dropping to the canyon floor.


Dean stopped and stared at her. “You know exactly why we’re here,” he said, and he glanced over to where Sam was moving slowly. “It’s no surprise to you that we came to kill you.”


Her face was lovely in spite of the twist of hatred that curled her mouth. “You humans think yourselves so clever,” she sneered. “And as for the Lord,” her eyes flashed. “He deserted us an age ago.”


Dean held still and waited. It had become tradition for the bad guys to talk a shit-load of trash before they were beaten. Lilith hadn’t changed in two thousand plus years. She didn’t disappoint.


“You dare to think that you can come back to this time and take my children from me?” she demanded. The boy stepped out from behind her once more, his face impassive. Dean wondered if he was innocent or if he was truly his mother’s child. “Arrogant worms!” She held up a hand again and faced Dean.


He lifted the Scimitar of Heaven and whatever juice she sent his way ricocheted off the blade and pierced the heart of the boy beside her. Her scream of sorrow and rage echoed through the canyon, redoubling again and again until all he could hear was a constant rush of sound and pain.


The sheer agony of her desolation was like a physical blow, forcing Dean to his knees. She'd killed her own son, with a little assist from Dean, and her heart was shattered. The sound of a mother weeping over a dead child was a terrible thing. It made something ache inside Dean.


He hardened himself, and was up and moving a moment later. There was no telling how long her grief would last, and he had one chance here. The sword sang again, slicing through the air as though it was flesh, and he jumped.


The impact was immense. The Scimitar of Heaven aimed deep and true and Dean could feel it part blood and bone and sinew as it burrowed into Lilith. Dean realized that Sam was up and moving and swinging the Blade of Hades above him about a second before the hellsword bit into Lilith’s neck and severed her head from the rest of her body.


Dean dropped to the ground, panting and sucking in oxygen as though every molecule had been squeezed from his lungs.


“You okay?” he asked Sam, who sank down next to him.


“Peachy,” Sam said and his voice was rough. “You?”


“I’ll live,” Dean said and groaned when he heard Balthazar shout. “Fuck, there’s more, aren’t there?”


Sam swung his head around slowly. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Two of them.”


“Please let that be the last of them,” Dean begged, hauling himself to his feet using the sword as a crutch. He felt like he’d aged about ten years in the last couple of minutes. The fact that they’d killed Lilith was something that was surely going to come back and bite them in the ass when they got back home. That was a whole other bag of worms though. He’d think more on that later.


Sam staggered up next to him, arms hanging down, the Blade of Hades dripping dark red onto the canyon floor. “Can we just finish this?” he asked, breathing harshly.


Dean heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I’m about ready to go home now.” He looked at Sam. “How long do we still have here?”


Sam looked at his watch. “About twelve hours,” he said.


Dean frowned. “Seriously?” We’ve been here half a day already?” It didn’t feel possible.


Sam shrugged. “Maybe the fighting and the walking took longer than we thought,” he suggested.


“You and the fucking lion cubs,” Dean told him, but he smiled. “Come on, Sammy, let’s end this.”


It ended in blood and guts and Dean’s arm ripped open from shoulder to elbow when the last guy managed to get a lucky strike in. Sam’s roar as he leapt over Dean’s torso, blade swinging in fear and rage, made Dean shiver. Sam was a scary dude when he put his mind to it.


And then it was over.



to part four