@caity-is-a-timelady so i was kind of Az-centric to advance the plot sorry not sorry


Azrael’s vessel manages to make it through the stint at the strip club unscathed – unlike last time, Wes reminds him a few times. But his ego? Not so much.

But being crushed like that is so much better than the alternative. Of facing Ruby, listening to her rant like that. Go on like that. About him, nonetheless. It’s his fault. He f-cked that one up big time.

On the car ride back to the Roach Motel (or wherever they’re staying), Wes is unusually silent. He cranks up the radio too loudly to cover the awkwardness between them. It’s not awkward because they went to a strip club together or anything – it’s awkward because Ruby is madly, desperately obsessed with Azrael. And Ruby? She’s Wes’s. Not in any obvious way, but it’s the subtle things that let Azrael know. Not only is she Wes’s, but he is hers.

Not that she seems to notice.

“So, man, you keep pulling these disappearing acts,” Wes says. It’s a ploy to breach the subject that Az knows they’re all wondering about. But the Winchesters don’t need to know about Heaven. And neither does Wes.

“Taking time to myself,” Az lies. He twists his hand by his side nervously. He’s not a very good liar in this vessel. Talk to him in Heaven – it’s a different story. Then again, he never had a reason to lie before. And even if he had, this little thing called “guilt” never got in the way. 

Wes raises an eyebrow, never taking his eyes off the road. “Sure.” And even Azrael can’t miss the glaring sarcasm in his tone. After another minute of tense, awkward driving, Wes swerves suddenly to the right and pulls over on the side of the highway.

“Why did you stop the car?”

Turning to Az, Wes says, “Look, man. We gotta talk.”

“I have no interest in doing anything with R – ”

Wes sighs. “I f-cking know. I know you don’t care about Ruby. This isn’t about that. It’s about something else.” 

Az isn’t sure whether to be relieved or nervous. “What?” He resists the urge to transport himself from the car right now – to go somewhere…anywhere.

“I know you’re hiding something from us. The Winchesters may be too f-cked in the heads to see it, but you’re not fooling more than a decade of pure instinct.” He pauses. “I want to trust you, but you gotta tell me what you’re doing.”

Az knows that he could tell the whole plan to Wes, but he can’t bring himself to. It has to be this way. Has to be a secret. So instead, he shakes his head. “I’m not doing anything,” he says, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms, hoping this gesture will end the conversation. The friendly atmosphere from earlier tonight has completely evaporated.

Wes’s eye twitches, and for a minute, Az thinks Wes is about to tell him to get the hell out of his car or something. He’s about to jump out in shame, actually. All of a sudden, there’s a sudden vibration, and glass starts breaking. Wes hits the floor of the car, hands over his ears. Az knows there must be a viciously high-pitched squeal, too, but he can’t hear it.

“What the f-ck is that?” Wes yells. It’s a little annoying, since Az doesn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. But he knows what it means – Uriel. Or worse, someone else.

It can’t be.

They wouldn’t send him.

Not yet.

“Wes, get in the passenger seat,” Az orders.

Wes peers up from the floor, probably about to protest. But something seems to change his mind – probably Az’s expression. In a moment, they’ve switched seats, and Az – who, mind you, has never operated a motor vehicle before – is zooming off down the highway, disobeying any and all traffic laws.

Soon, the noise must start to fade, because Wes manages to get himself back in his seat. Buckling the seatbelt, he looks over at Az. “What the…”

“Angels,” Az says. “It seems like Heaven is sending someone after us.”

“We’re running from angels? Why can’t you just smite them or something?”

“Who do you think I am? God?” Az rolls his eyes and speeds up.


“They should be home by now,” I say, mostly to myself. Ruby’s not exactly herself – a little loopy. So I’m not sure how much it’s worth to try and reason with her or anything. I snap the curtains of the seedy motel room shut and turn around to see my sister making a snow angel. On the motel carpet. Marching over, I say, “Okay, that’s it.”

“I still hear them!” she marvels.

Rolling my eyes, I wonder if this is how Ruby felt when I used to come home drunk. She used to be such a goody-goody. But now – this. Maybe this is just karma or something. Hell, I probably deserve every minute of it.

The other thing karma’s decided to give me is a nice fat dose of irony. Because Ruby is somehow magically in love with Az’s muscles or something. That no one else can f-cking see. I don’t know. Whatever. I’m not jealous or anything. Just…annoyed. But hey – it could be worse. I could be Wes.

Speaking of Wes and Az – they went to a strip club. It’s like three in the morning. I know Wes is a night owl, but all things considering, you’d think he’d at least shoot me a text or something. I make a mental note to buy Az a phone (he’s more reliable). Unfortunately, I’m not convinced he’d know how to use it.

“They’ll be home soon,” I say, and then settle down in front of the TV.

Sure. I’m just gonna keep telling myself that.


“So what exactly is it that’s got angels chasing you?”

“I gave angelic blood to Ruby.”

Wes shrugs, trying to stretch out a cramp in his neck. “I know that’s not exactly up to Heaven’s standards, but it seems like they’re sending the big guns after you. Don’t they have bigger problems to work on?”

“Apparently not,” Az says, ignoring the implicit question.

Wes slams his fists on the dash. “God f-cking d-mmit, man! Just tell me what’s going on. You can’t keep me in the dark like this!”

“If you can’t cooperate, you can get out of the car.”

“It’s my car, a-sshole.”

Az raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Does that really matter?”

Grumbling, Wes sinks back into his seat and mumbles what is most likely a profanity-ridden response.

“Azrael,” a voice says. “Azrael, we need to talk.”

“Not now, Uriel,” Az growls.

Wes looks over at him. “Uriel?” he mouths, somehow paranoid that their conversation might be overheard.

Ignoring him, Az clenches his fingers tighter around the steering wheel. The speedometer hasn’t dipped below eighty since he started driving.

“Azrael, I will forcibly remove you from this vehicle if you require me to.”

Az realizes that this could have unforeseen consequences – like the car crashing and burning, Wes inside. He doubts that Jess and Ruby could find it in their hearts to forgive him for that one. So he pulls over.

“I’ll be back,” he says to Wes. “Don’t stop for anything, drive straight back, and lock all the doors.

“But what about th – ”

Slowly, Azrael pulls a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. “Draw these sigils on the walls – in blood. You’ll be fine.”

“In blood? Are you f-cking crazy? What the hell are you do –”

But Az is already gone. He’s not in the graveyard this time, though. He turns to the man standing behind him.

“They’re following me.”

“No greeting for an old friend?” The other man raises an eyebrow.

Az narrows his eyes. “Right. Sorry, Olivier.”


Jess has taken to spinning the last bottle of beer in a circle on the floor while Ruby sings off-key. Since she can’t drink herself to death, might as well bore herself to death.

Just then, the door is flung open, and Wes, looking far worse for wear, tumbles inside. Instead of Ruby worrying and fussing over him like she usually does, she continues on her trip, singing merrily all the way. Which leaves Jess to be responsible.

“What happened?”

“I confronted Az,” he says, grunting. She lifts up the sleeve of his shirt to see that he’s bleeding.

“And this happened?”

“No, that was from the angels chasing us.” Jess opens her mouth to interrupt, but he silences her. “Let me finish first. Then ask questions.”

Ruby’s still singing.


Pouting, the other man says, “Oh, what a fantastic greeting.” He pauses. “The boss says hello, by the way.” Olivier claps Az on the shoulder.

Az pulls away. “I don’t want to hear from your boss.”

“He’s your boss too, you know.”

“I don’t answer to him.”

Olivier circles around again and stares at Az. “I really can’t figure you out. Some days, you’re so gung ho to do this whole thing, and others, you get all mopey. Can’t have anything to do with your precious little human friends, can it?”

Az shrugs noncommittally. The less Olivier knows about the Winchesters and Wes, the better.

“Oh, poor Azrael,” Olivier says sarcastically. “Did you want us to kiss it and make it all better? Make it stop hurting?”

“Get away from me. I’m not here for this.”

Suddenly, Olivier is back to normal. “Of course – you’re here for business. What do you have for us this time?”

“I want to make a deal. I need to speak with him.”

“Well, see, he’s a bit busier than you’d think. It’s not like he can just take a break from all that smiting to see you in his office.”

“I will call him,” Azrael says, a bit of a threat creeping into his voice.

With this, Olivier’s eyes widen with fear. “No…I…I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I can fetch him for you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Azrael is used to dealing with Olivier – he’s slimy and tricky, and he’d rather not. He opens his mouth.

Before he can speak, Olivier says, “Well, see you later, mate,” crams his hat on his head, and disappears, leaving only silence behind.

Slowly, Az gathers up his strength, finds his courage. “I need to talk to you!” he yells. When there’s no answer, he tries again. “I need to speak with you! It’s urgent!” Finally, he gives in, says the word. Names are power, and he understands that. But he has no choice. “ABBADON!”
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