20. TV Land (Part 3)

It took me a second to gather our new surroundings. We were all dressed professional again, and judging by the noises behind me, we were in some sort of drama. I touched my face to find I donned sunglasses. But it's nighttime! Who the hell wears sunglasses at night?

I lifted up my sunglasses long enough to see we were all somehow matching: suits and blue shirts. I took in the scene going on in front of us: the caution tape, the dead guy with a stomach wound, flashing cameras, crime scene markers. We were in some sort of CSI gig.

I was the first to turn as an officer was starting to make his way to us. The boys mimicked me.

"Oh, come on," Dean complained.

"Just when you think it can't get any worse," I grumbled. "But I guess this is better than that herpes commercial we were in."

"So, what do you think?" the officer asked us. We all turned around again, back to the crime scene.

"What do I think?" Dean said heatedly. "I think go screw yourself, that's what I think."

"Uh, could you give us a sec, please?" I said sweetly. "Thanks."

The officer obliged with a nod before turning away.

"You gotta calm down," Sam told Dean.

"Calm down? I am wearing sunglasses at night." Dean yanked them off. "You know who does that? No-talent douchebags."

"Aren't you the critic," I deadpanned.

"I hate this game. I hate that we're in a procedural cop show and you wanna know why? Because I hate procedural cop shows. There's, like, three hundred of them on television and they're all the freaking same. It's ooh, plane crashed here—oh shut up."

"Please explain to me how you have any free time to watch any TV."

"Hey," said Sam. He took off his sunglasses. I didn't know why I still kept mine on, so I ridded myself of them.

"What?"

"Check out sweet tooth over there."

The officer we'd just talked to was sucking away on a lollipop. I remembered one of the Trickster's M.O.s: he had a big thing for sweets.

"Think that's him?" asked Dean.

"Just, um, follow my lead," said Sam.

We followed Sam to the crime scene tape, all putting on our stupid sunglasses again as we're allowed under. I had an easier time slipping under compared to the boys thanks to my height. We headed straight for the body.

"You, uh, you okay?" the officer asked.

"Yeah," Dean answered. "What do we got?"

The officer knelt beside the body. "Well, aside from the ligature marks around his neck, he has what appears to be a roll of quarters jammed down his throat."

Dean pulled off his sunglasses and pulled out a flashlight so he could take a closer look. Sam and I both took off our sunglasses also.

"Well I say, jackpot," he said dramatically. I held back a scoff so I wouldn't lose it.

The officer snorted in amusement. Sam put his glasses back on.

"Also, there is a stab wound to the lower abdomen," the officer reported, pointing his lollipop at the wound.

Dean grabbed a nearby stick and poked at the bloody hole. I grimaced as he got the stick covered in blood. He put his glasses back on.

"Well I say, no guts, no glory," he also said dramatically. These boys definitely knew how to be over-the-top.

The officer merely laughed.

"Get that guy a Tums," said Sam.

"Gutter ball," said Dean.

The officer kept on laughing. "Good one, guys."

I watched the madness unfold. Dean came around from behind the officer and staked him in the heart. The officer collapsed, struggling for breath. Nobody seemed to care around us, except one person. It was another officer, who was laughing.

My upper lip quivered in anger as the laughing officer turned into the Trickster. Damn it.

"You've got the wrong guy, idiots," he jeered.

"Did we?" I asked smartly, realizing that there had been a backup plan.

Sam had been sneaky the entire time and nailed the Trickster from behind. He fell over and disappeared into a burst of static.

Our CSI gig reverted back to the empty warehouse. How much time had passed? A week? Cas had said we had been gone for a few days.

The Trickster still laid on the floor, still embedded with the stake. I looked down at my clothes. They were normal again. I laughed in relief. No more herpes commercials. No more Japanese, crotch-busting gameshows. No more CSI gigs.

We were back to reality.

We headed straight back for our motel room. There was a quiet sense of relief in the Impala, but also a sense of worry. Where had the Trickster shipped Cas off to? Relax, he'll live. Maybe. Those hadn't been encouraging words.

Dean and I were the first two in the motel room. The first thing Dean did was hit the bathroom to brush his teeth. I collapsed on one of the beds, blowing air through my nose. The madness was done. Now we could rest properly.

"I'm worried, you guys," Dean said from the bathroom. I cringed as I heard him spit. "What that S.O.B. did to Cas. You know, where is he?"

"Dean, Sam hasn't come in yet," I told him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah..." I stood up, away from the bed. My heart began to panic. "He should be back in by now."

"Sam?" Dean exited the bathroom. His eyes met mine. "How could you not know he wasn't behind you?"

"I didn't pay attention! I figured he needed some more time to air out, I don't know!" I threw my hands up impatiently. "You don't think something got him, do you?"

"We'll find him, Dak. Come on."

We both exited the motel room. Dean was already dialing Sam's number as we headed for the Impala. Judging by Dean's face, he got Sam's voicemail. We both climbed into the car, with me getting shotgun.

"Sam," Dean said. "It's me. Where the hell did you go?" He snapped the phone shut.

"Dean? Dakota?"

Dean and I looked at each other. He and I had both heard him. But something sounded...off. It was Sam's voice we'd heard, yeah, but it wasn't at the same time. Something was wrong.

"Sam?" I asked aloud. "Where are you?"

"I don't know."

"Dak," Dean murmured. I gestured for me to look at the dashboard. I just caught it: the red light flashing. Dean and I looked at each other.

"Oh crap," Sam groaned. "I don't think we killed the Trickster."

I threw my head back into the seat. How could this game not be over?

"What the hell!" I hit the dashboard in front of me.

"Mind not hitting me again, Kota?"

"Oops, already forgot. Sorry." I blushed.

Dean got the car into gear, and we shot off down the road. I couldn't make the connection that Sam was now the Impala. I shuddered. This was freaking me out.

"Okay, so stake didn't work," Dean recapped for us. "So, what, this is another trick?"

"I don't know. Maybe the stake didn't work because it's not a trickster?" Sam guessed.

"What do you mean?"

"You heard Cas," I joined in. "He said this thing is too powerful to be a trickster."

"And did you notice the way he looked at Cas?" Dean caught on. "Almost like he knew him."

"And how pissed he got when you brought up Michael and Lucifer."

"Son of a bitch."

"What?" Sam and I asked. We had a bad habit of doing that lately.

"I think I know what we're dealing with."

"Then do enlighten me," I dared him.

"We're dealing with another winged pain in the ass."

"Another angel?" I looked at Dean. "Are you sure?"

"There's a way to find out," came Sam's voice.

"And what way is that?"

"Holy fire," Dean explained.

We drove until we hit a wilderness area point. Dean and I climbed out and went to the trunk. I had the unfortunate honor of opening the trunk. I felt so self-conscious doing it.

"I cannot wait until this is over," I moaned.

Dean pulled out the necessary supply, some special type of oil, and carefully made a circle in the grass. I kept an eye out for our possible angel friend while he finished up.

"Think fast, Dak!"

I yelped and just barely caught the flask of oil. I scowled at Dean.

"What if I had dropped this?" I scolded him.

"Relax, the lid's screwed on tight. It wouldn't have spilled. Put it back while you're there."

I pursed my lips as I tried to figure out the best place to put the angel-capture oil. I started moving stuff around while Dean took over as watchman.

"Dakota?"

I nearly bumped my head on the trunk. "Christ, Sam! Either you stay silent or keep talking. Let's not give me a heart attack before I reach thirty, thank you. Anyway, what is it?"

"That, uh, feels really uncomfortable."

I shut the trunk, a little too forcefully I might add.

"Ow."

"Sorry," I whimpered. "I'm not used to cars having feelings, let alone a voice."

"You sure this is gonna work?" Sam directed the question at Dean.

"No," Dean admitted. "But I have no other ideas." I went to join Dean. The silence didn't last long. "All right, you son of a bitch!" he bellowed to the skies. "Uncle! We'll do it!"

"Should I honk?" Sam suggested.

"Wow," said the ever-annoying voice of the Trickster. I took a step back as he materialized before us. "Sam. Get a load of the rims on you."

"Eat me."

"Okay, boys. Ready to go quietly?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I intervened, "not so fast. Nobody's going anywhere until Sam has opposable thumbs."

"What's the difference? Satan's going to ride his ass one way or another."

"So help me—"

The Trickster smirked at me. "Oh, how adorable! She has a temper! What's the worst you can do, sugar?"

"You shouldn't have to worry about me, so much as him." I flicked a thumb at Dean. "Now give us Sam back."

The Trickster rolled his eyes, done with his amusement. With a snap of his fingers, we heard one of the Impala's doors open. I smiled dryly, thankful to have Sam back to his human form.

"Happy?" the Trickster snapped.

"Very," I snorted.

"Tell me one thing," Dean said. "Why didn't the stake kill you?"

"I am the Trickster," he said, making us sound like the stupid ones.

"Or maybe you're not."

From the corner of my eye, Sam stood beside me. He flicked on a cigarette lighter and tossed it down. The ring of fire sprouted around the Trickster.

"Maybe you've always been an angel," Dean murmured.

The Trickster looked skeptical, then laughed. I rolled my eyes. This guy, whatever he was, was unbelievable.

"A what?" he scoffed. "Somebody slip a mickey in your power shake, kid?"

"I'll tell you what. You just jump out of the holy fire and we'll call it our mistake," Dean bargained.

At first, the Trickster made us believe that we were wrong, that we were fools. But his laughter stopped. My eyes widened. He couldn't get out. Dean was right. We weren't dealing with a trickster; we were dealing with another angel.

I cringed as a burst of static erupted. We were back in the warehouse, and I assumed, back in reality.

The Trickster, still caught in holy fire, clapped.

"Well played," he said. "Well played. Where'd you get the holy oil?"

"Well, you might say we pulled it out of Sam's ass," said Dean.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Not the best kind of humor right now.

"Where'd I screw up?"

"You didn't," Sam told him. "Nobody gets the jump on Cas like you did."

"Mostly it was the way you talked about Armageddon," said Dean.

"Meaning?" asked the Trickster.

"Well, call it personal experience, but nobody gets that angry unless they're talking about their own family."

"So which one are you?" I asked bitterly. "Grumpy, Sneezy, or Douchey?"

"Gabriel, okay?" the Trickster snapped. "They call me Gabriel."

"Gabriel?" Sam questioned. "The archangel?"

"The hell's an archangel?" I whispered out of the side of my mouth.

"Later, Kota. We need to make you hit the books again."

"Guilty," Gabriel admitted.

"Okay, Gabriel," said Dean. "How does an archangel become a trickster?"

"My own private witness protection. I skipped out of heaven, had a face transplant, carved out my own little corner of the world. Till you two screwed it up."

"What did Daddy say when you ran off and joined the pagans?"

"Daddy doesn't say anything about anything."

"Then what happened?" I asked. "Why'd you ditch?"

"Do you blame him?" Dean told me. "I mean, his brothers are heavyweight douchenozzles."

"Shut your cakehole," Gabriel spat. "You don't know anything about my family. I love my father, my brothers. Love them. But watching them turn on each other? Tear at each other's throats? I couldn't bear it! Okay? So I left. And now it's happening all over again."

"Then help us stop it," Sam said.

"It can't be stopped."

"You wanna see the end of the world?" Dean questioned.

"I want it to be over! I have to sit back and watch my own brothers kill each other thanks to you two! Heaven, Hell, I don't care who wins, I just want it to be over."

"It doesn't have to be like that," I said neutrally. "There has to be some way to, to pull the plug."

Gabriel just laughed. "You do not know my family. What you call the apocalypse, I used to call Sunday dinner. There's why there's no stopping this, because this isn't about a war. It's about two brothers that loved each other and betrayed each other. You'd think you'd be able to relate."

"What are you talking about?" I scratched my head.

"You sorry sons of bitches." I knew at this point, I was being ignored. "Why do you think you two are the vessels? Think about it. Michael, the big brother, loyal to an absent father, and Lucifer, the little brother, rebellious of Daddy's plan. You were born to this, boys. It's your destiny! It was always you! As it is in Heaven, so it must be on Earth. One brother has to kill the other."

I began to pace around the circle of holy fire. Gabriel was hinting at a lot of the Winchester brothers' past, something I would never dare to ask either one of them.

"What the hell are you saying?" Dean demanded coldly.

"Why do you think I've always taken such an interest in you? Because from the moment Dad flipped on the lights around here, we knew it was all gonna end with you. Always."

There was a long pause, the only noise being the holy fire still crackling around Gabriel. I heard the words he was saying, but I couldn't fully digest them or understand them. I guess it made sense as to why Sam and Dean were chosen as the vessels.

I was going to need to take a sabbatical to learn the entire background that led up to this.

"No," Dean said after a long time. "That's not gonna happen."

"I'm sorry. But it is," said Gabriel. "I wish this were a TV show. Easy answers, endings wrapped up in a bow...but this is real, and it's gonna end bloody for all of us." As I finished my way around the circle, I met the archangel's eyes. I was sure my eyes were tricking me, but I could have sworn I saw maybe a bit of sympathy. "That's just how it's gotta be. So, now what? We stare at each other for the rest of eternity?"

"Well, first of all, you're gonna bring Cas back from wherever you stashed him," Dean demanded.

"Oh am I."

"Yeah. Or we're going to dunk you in some holy oil and deep-fry ourselves an archangel."

Gabriel didn't seem too fond of the idea; he snapped his fingers. My mouth parted slightly at Cas's sudden reappearance. At least he was moving. He looked a bit beat up still, but he was alive nevertheless. That was what counted.

"Cas, you okay?" I asked.

"I'm fine." He didn't sound it. "Hello, Gabriel."

"Hey, bro," said Gabriel. "How's the search for Daddy going? Let me guess. Awful."

"Okay, we're out of here," Dean said. "Come on, Sam. Dak, you too." Dean started to hightail it out of the warehouse.

"Uh. Okay. Guys?"

With a nudge from Sam, we followed Dean towards the exit.

"So, so what? Huh?"

Cas now joined our troop, leaving Gabriel in the burning holy fire ring.

"You're just gonna, you're gonna leave me here forever?" he sputtered.

"Can we?" I asked a bit eagerly.

Dean stopped at the door and turned back to Gabriel. "No," he said. "We're not, 'cause we don't screw with people the way you do. And for the record? This isn't about some prize fight between your brothers or some destiny that can't be stopped. This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family."

Dean yanked the fire alarm. The sprinklers did their magic and rained down on Gabriel.

"Don't say I never did anything for you," Dean muttered.

We all left the warehouse with Gabriel to soak in water.

I exhaled loudly once we were entirely out. Fresh air. Reality. Though reality wasn't the best option for me right now, I didn't realize just how much I really missed it. Being played around with by an archangel would do that to a girl.

Cas hung in the back while Sam, Dean, and I all headed for the Impala.

"All that stuff he was spouting in there, you think it was the truth?" Dean asked.

"I think he believes it," Sam replied.

"So what do we do?"

"I don't know."

"Well I'll tell you one thing. Right about now I wish I was back in a TV show."

"I think we all do," I said. "I guess for now, it's back to the books for me. You both ready to teach me?"

"Can't that hold off for a little, Dak?"

"Someone exhausted?"

"Actually, yes. I'd like to get a few hours."

I half-grimaced. "Deal. I guess I can leave you be for a few hours. We all can really use it."

We all shuffled into the Impala and headed back to our motel, Gabriel free for now.

**Andddd another episode is here and gone. Is it just me, or is it possible I maybe ship a little GabrielxKota? Not as much as Sakota, but a little something. Come on, the nicknames did me in, what can I say? :)**