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zannesTitle: I Wonder Why the Wonder Falls on Me (Part 2)
Author: ZanneS
Genre: Gen/crossover (SPN/Wonderfalls)
Rating: PG (bad language)
Characters: Sam, Dean, Jaye Tyler, Karen Tyler, Aaron Tyler, Sharon, Tyler, Darrin Tyler, Mahandra, Castiel
Summary: "Surrender to Destiny" is a terrible catchphrase.
Author's Note: Thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
candygrammeand cappy712for betaing! Supernatural belongs to Kripke and Wonderfalls belongs to Fuller.
Mahandra bounced up to the table only a moment later, a wide smile in place. “Mrs. Tyler! It’s so good to see you here today! What’s the occasion?”
Karen gave Mahandra a discriminating stare. “Since Aaron has selected you as his new girlfriend, we’ve decided as a family to support your place of employment more often.”
“Thanks, Aaron,” Jaye said with a kick to his shin.
He frowned in his sister’s direction, wincing at the sharp pain.
“Yeah, thanks Aaron,” Mahandra agreed, adding her own bruise next to Jaye’s.
Aaron smothered a quiet hiss of pain, reaching for his abused shin before he stopped himself, trying to avoid his mother’s attention. “It’s not my fault!” he murmured. “You know how Mom gets.”
Mahandra snorted and pulled out her order pad, her smile for the rest of the Tylers far less forced than previously. “Do you all want the usual?”
Jaye made some furtive hand motions as Mahandra took their orders, mouthing something in Mahandra’s direction as she hid her face from the rest of her family using the menu as a shield. Her tactics seemed to fool most of the table, though Sam and Dean stared at her as if they could see through the cheap laminated paper that disguised her communications, before sharing another aggrieved look. Mahandra furrowed her brow in confusion at Jaye’s gesticulations, before realization dawned, her eyes widening as she crammed her order pad back into her apron pocket.
“Uh, I’ll be right back with your drinks!”
“So, what are such two fine gentlemen doing in our lovely little town?” Mrs. Tyler inquired politely, turning her even-eyed gaze back onto the two men. “Are you looking to settle down?” Karen Tyler immediately switched on her smile and aimed it in Jaye’s direction. “Jaye’s boyfriend is in New York right now, but even he couldn’t resist the allure of the Falls.”
“Plus,” Sharon added, “he caught his wife blowing the bellboy on their honeymoon.” She smiled around the breadstick clenched between her teeth, before she bit down with a crisp snap, mumbling around her mouthful, “Where’s the food? I’m starving.”
Dean was enchanted.
“Sharon,” Mrs. Tyler said, her tone dripping with disapproval. “We do not discuss such matters over lunch.”
“Yes,” Mr. Tyler agreed, craning his neck towards the kitchen. “That’s much more appropriate a topic when having cocktails. Now where’s my martini?”
The conversation halted when Mahandra came bustling out of the kitchen with bags in hand. “Here you go, gentlemen,” she said, huffing only slightly from the rush. “Your to-go order is ready. The Barrel hopes to see you again soon!”
Dean arched an eyebrow in her direction, Sam looking momentarily confused before Jaye elbowed him not-so-covertly in the side. “Uh, yeah,” Sam said, blinking at the nudge. “We’ve got that…thing we need to get to.”
“Thing?” Dean demanded. “What thing? The only thing I want are my curly fries!” His lower lip pushed out slightly and he looked like a two-year-old verging on a tantrum.
“I apologize for my brother,” Sam said as Jaye stood to clear the way. He followed her out of the booth as he snatched the bags off the table, tossing a couple bills onto the table to cover their check. “Hunger makes him cranky. C’mon, Dean, or the gulls are getting your fries.”
“Why don’t we head out?” Jaye suggested brightly. “I’ve got to get back to work.”
“I thought your shift end–” Mahandra’s declaration was cut off by another swift elbow. She glared at Jaye, but nodded as her friend shepherded the men toward the door.
“Jaye, dear,” Mrs. Tyler called out. “Remember to invite your friends over sometime soon!”
Outside the door to The Barrel Dean stopped, Sam bumping into his back as Dean turned to face Jaye and snatched one of the to-go bags from Sam’s hand. He reached into the crumpled bag and shoved some fries into his mouth before directing his ire in Jaye’s direction. “What in the hell is going on?”
Jaye shrugged, her face pinched in annoyance. “Would you rather have spent the next couple of hours talking to my family? Even I try to get out of that as often as possible!”
Dean still look irritated, though the constant application of fries seemed to be soothing his nerves. Sam decided to let his brother distract himself with food, and said, “Thanks, I guess.”
“So,” Jaye began hesitantly. “Do you need…anything?” She caught sight of Dean’s grease-stained lips and suggested with a relieved smile, “A napkin?” Jaye dug into her pockets and pulled out a torn tissue and some broken mints. “Peppermint?” She was hoping this might be an easy fix and they’d just come out and tell her what they needed so the wax lion would get off her back for a few days.
Dean turned to walk towards a big, black car taking up nearly two spaces in the parking lot. “We’ve got some business to take care of. Hope to not see you again soon,” he called back over his shoulder. “Sam! Car!”
Sam gave Jaye a polite smile and jogged after his brother, sliding into the passenger seat. They pulled out only a few seconds later, Dean waving a paper wrapped burger – or maybe that was just his finger – in her direction, before turning right out of the parking lot.
Jaye sighed, eyes going heavenward as she said, “See? I tried. They obviously didn’t need my help, so can I just go home and take a nap?” Her stomach rumbled in complaint, reminding her that her leisurely lunch had been interrupted. She warily eyed the restaurant she had just left, knowing that her family had battened down the hatches for at least the next hour. She couldn’t go back in there or she’d be trapped.
“That’s just great,” Jaye groaned. “Where else can I get some free food?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Is it me, or is this whole town weird?” Dean grumbled, pulling the car to a stop across from a neatly landscaped white colonial. “Not a single person we talked to knew anything, and they sure seemed happy about it.” He glared mutinously at the peppy pink flamingos dotting the lawn as if this lack of information might be their fault, and said under his breath, “I thought rich people were supposed to have good taste.”
“Not good,” Sam replied. “Just more expensive.”
Dean sighed, loosening his shoulders from the long afternoon in the car. “C’mon. Last one and then we grab something to eat, go back to the motel, and watch some pay-per-view.”
They walked up the neatly lined brick path toward the front door, still bickering over their wasted afternoon. “I though for sure the fat kid was going to cave,” Dean grumbled.
“I wasn’t going to let you hit a little kid,” Sam said, his exasperation obvious from his huffed tone.
“He bit me!” Dean exclaimed. “What kind of kid does that?”
“You,” Sam pointed out, a touch of amusement coloring his words. “You didn’t like sharing your Coco Puffs. I’m lucky I’ve still got all of my fingers.”
“That was a life or death situation,” Dean demurred. “Totally different.”
“Life or death how?” Sam demanded incredulously.
“In that I was going to kill you for stealing my toy surprise. You were a little klepto as a kid.” Dean appeared completely satisfied with his answer. “It was for your own good.”
“Obviously,” Sam agreed, knocking sharply on the door.
The door opened and their gazes fell to meet Jaye’s wide, blue eyes staring at them over the shiny candy apple stuffed in her mouth. Behind her someone shouted breathlessly, “Tell ‘em it’s free! It’s been over half an hour already!”, and the door was flung open even further to reveal Sharon standing by Jaye’s shoulder.
“Oh, look,” Sharon said with glee. “It’s Jaye’s Lost Boys! I feel just like Wendy in Peter Pan.” Her expression turned more serious and she hissed at Jaye, “They don’t get any of my pineapple pizza.”
Jaye shoved Sharon away from the door and pulled the apple from her mouth, leaving her lips sticky and red. “Ignore her. She’s PMSing.”
“Jaye!” came from somewhere down the hall, the exclamation muffled by a loud burst of male laughter. “I hate you all,” Sharon declared somewhere from the depths of the house.
Jaye’s eyes flicked to the plain T-shirt hidden under Sam’s flannel, and a look of relief flooded over her face. She waved her treat in their general direction, the sweet scent of its candied skin drifting toward their noses. “You wanna come in and have an apple? We’re playing Scrabble tonight.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sam had barely closed the bathroom door behind him when Dean forced his way in, slamming it shut and leaning against it with an irritated exhalation.
Sam arched an eyebrow at his brother, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Subtle, Dean. There’s no way anyone would think something’s up.”
When Dean didn’t immediately reply, Sam’s second eyebrow joined the first. “Do you need anything or is this just a social call? Otherwise, I got here first, so wait your turn.”
“Sharon said that we reminded her of these two squirrely guys that had been following Jaye around a couple of weeks ago, wanting to interview her for their website – their para-science website.” Dean’s eyes widened meaningfully as his voice dropped. “It’s her,” he hissed, pointing over his shoulder at the door.
“What are you talking about?”
“Jane Taylor!”
“It’s Jaye Ty-” Sam stopped himself, his eyes sliding closed as he shook his head. “We’re idiots.”
“You’re the idiot, Mr. Triple-Word-Score. We’re just lucky I convinced you to stay to interrogate these people.”
“You stayed for the double pepperoni,” Sam replied, turning to wash his hands in the sink. “Speaking of…,” Sam jerked his head toward the door. “Out.”
“Right,” Dean nodded. “I’ll spike her root beer with holy water and you get some salt from the kitchen.”
“In a minute.”
“Demons wait for no man!”
“They can wait long enough for me to go to the bathroom,” Sam insisted, shoving Dean out the door and slamming it in his face.
Dean frowned at the white wood in front of his nose, hissing loudly, “Way to go, Sam. It’s no wonder Lucifer wants to wear you to the Winter Formal!” He slammed the flat of his hand against the door and stalked off toward the living room as Aaron and Jaye came around the corner from the kitchen, Aaron’s eyes wide and wondering.
“Huh,” Jaye said, pursing her lips and glancing at her brother. “Maybe he really is the Anti-Christ.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The tension between Sam and Dean simmered almost tangibly in the air when Sam returned from his trip to the bathroom. Jaye began to wonder if her mission might simply be to make them kiss and make up after all, and looked almost cheerful as their dour mood infected even her usually buoyant siblings. Aaron was studying Sam with a calculated air, his eyes occasionally flicking toward Jaye before returning to Sam’s hulking figure sitting awkwardly on their mother’s delicate furniture. It definitely wasn’t meant for men of Sam’s – or Dean’s, for that matter – caliber, making the two men look even larger and rougher by comparison.
It’s a good thing her parents had gone off to some kind of bridge club emergency earlier that evening, or her mother might be having heart palpitations over the thought of what all that rough leather and denim was doing to her delicate fabrics.
Sharon, ever the lawyer, was keyed into the tension. She eyeballed them both as if waiting for her chance to interrogate them, fingers twitching for her absent, but much longed for, cigarette. If Jaye didn’t do something soon, her sister would be at the chocolate-covered pretzel sticks again just to have something cylindrical shoved in her mouth. And from past experience, Jaye knew that was disaster in the making.
Sharon got cranky when she was craving nicotine.
It didn’t help that Aaron had decided to be extra weird this evening and had been dropping odd conversational tidbits in Sam’s direction, asking the man if he had any strange marking or tattoos that looked like numbers, or did he know many languages, and what his religious affiliations might be.
Maybe she should have kept that Anti-Christ tidbit to herself, Jaye thought.
The tension was disrupted by the shrill ring of Sharon’s cell phone. Keeping one eye on their guests, Sharon snapped it open with an equally sharp, “Hello?”
At the first faint hum of someone responding, Sharon’s face relaxed, the stern lines smoothing out as her voice took on a more playful, teasing air. “You don’t say. Yeah…I’ll be there with bells on.”
“Girlfriend,” Jaye murmured in Sam and Dean’s direction.
Sam started, his mulish glare in Dean’s direction momentarily interrupted. “Wait a minute, didn’t you try to set me up with your sister earlier?”
Sharon giggled into her phone at the muffled reply and snapped it shut with one hand, quickly getting to her feet. “Uh, I’ve got business. See you later Aaron and Jaye.” She gave the two men sitting on her mother’s couch another stern look, and Dean was startled enough to nearly drop his cookie. “And remember, Mom and Dad said they’d be back before 12:00, so if anyone’s dead when they get here, I know who to look for.”
With that, she grabbed her coat and purse off the chair by the door and hustled out, calling out over her shoulder, “I’ve written down your license plate number!”
Dean shrugged and picked up the cow-shaped creamer off the coffee table, noticing the fine crack that ringed its ceramic neck. He hoped the thing was leak-proof and tried to aim carefully for his coffee cup, not wanting to spill on the carpet.
The sound of Sharon’s car peeling down the street was still reverberating through the air when Aaron leaned toward Sam. “Look,” he said, setting his coffee cup on the table with a loud thunk and knocking over a stack of magazines. He didn’t seem to notice the mess, instead resting his elbows on his knees and loosely clasping his hands in front of him. “You could really help me out if you answered a few questions. An interview with the Anti-Christ in my thesis? That’s a guaranteed A+!”
Sam twitched in his seat, startled, and his eyes skirted to Jaye as Dean tensed beside him, looking as if he were preparing to jump Aaron and pound him into unconsciousness with the creamer in his hand. Then Dean purposefully relaxed and gave a careless shrug, as if nothing in the world could bother him. “Nah, the Anti-Christ is much shorter than Sam here.”
Jaye just shrugged, looking a little annoyed at the conversational detour, and bit into a cookie, crumbs spilling down her shirt as she mumbled, “Don’t look at me. He thinks I’m the messiah of inanimate objects.”
Okay, so maybe she didn’t just have to make them kiss and make up. Dammit. She was fondly recalling those long ago days – was it really only a few weeks ago? – when her biggest concern was a runaway nun with an odd fondness for cheese.
“This was a waste of time, Sam,” Dean said with renewed annoyance.
“The cow creamer speaks to you!” Aaron nearly shouted at Jaye, sounding more than a little exasperated. “It tells you to do things!” He narrowed his eyes in Sam’s direction, musing pointedly, “Does the cow creamer tell you to do things?”
“Maybe you should interview the cow creamer,” Dean interrupted, thunking the ceramic container and his cup on the coffee table and wiping his hands on his thighs as if they might be contaminated by the weirdness. “Y’know, the cow behind the curtain; it seems to be callin’ all the shots.”
“It won’t talk to me,” Aaron admitted off-handedly, staring at Sam as if trying to pin him in place with his gaze alone. “I tried.”
“Awkward,” Dean hissed, nudging Sam with his elbow and jerking his head toward the door.
“What about this?” Aaron demanded, shoving a pig-shaped thing under Sam’s nose. “Or this?” A stuffed iguana that seemed to appear out of nowhere took its place beside the pig in Aaron’s other outstretched hand.
Sam sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if fending off a headache. “Look, the cow creamer hasn’t talked to me, or the pig pepper shaker, or the iguana, or even that ash tray over there that looks like a…fish?” He shook his head in confusion and reiterated, “Nothing. So Dean and I are going to head out, and get on with our business.”
Aaron was already glaring speculatively at the ash tray, leaning forward and whispering, “Hello?” as Jaye rolled her eyes and got to her feet. She followed the two men to the door, Dean craning his neck to watch Aaron setting the creamer and pepper shaker by the ash tray like some kind of ceramic summit meeting, the iguana overseeing things with its large cotton eyes.
“Is your brother, y’know…crazy?” Dean asked bluntly.
“Yes, but he’s harmless,” Jaye replied. There was a loud crack from the living room, followed by a muffled curse, before she added, “Mostly.”
Aaron appeared behind her, moving quickly for such a large man. “How about these?” he questioned, his hands filled with a stuffed donkey and a plastic flamingo.
“What are you?” Dean growled, his annoyance becoming more obvious. “A freakin’ magician?” He grabbed the flamingo from Aaron and, with one hand wrapped tightly around its plastic throat, growled, “Now, we’re leaving, or the flamingo gets it.” He made his way to the door, Sam following him outside.
“For science!” Aaron shouted as they walked quickly across the lawn toward their car. “For my doctorate! People have a right to know!”
Dean gave Aaron his opinion with a quick gesture over his shoulder, tossing the flamingo onto the grass and determinedly crossing the street.
Sam took one more look back at Aaron and Jaye, the girl standing on the doorstep while Aaron knelt to assess the damage to the flamingo, his hands fluttering worriedly over its plastic corpse. Jaye called out, “Happy Hour is from 4:00-8:00 at The Barrel! Free nachos tomorrow!”
The car shook under Sam’s hand when Dean slammed the door behind him, and from that alone Sam knew Dean was pissed. He slid into the passenger seat beside his brother, leaving the Tyler siblings standing on their lawn in the darkness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“That whole family is nuts,” Dean declared as he pulled out into the street, the lights rippling slowly across the sleek, black hood of the Impala.
Sam nodded, staring out the side window at the pristine colonial falling behind them.
“She’s not possessed,” Sam finally said in reply. “And there was no sign of spirit activity in the house. The EMF was baseline the whole time.”
“Then what is she?”
“She’s a prophet,” a heavy voice from the back informed them.
Dean’s grip jerked the steering wheel as he started in surprise, making the Impala swerve into the other lane and instigating a sharp series of honks and squealing tires from the cars around him.
“Dammit, Cas! You need to wear a God-damned bell!”
The angel’s eyes focused on Dean’s in the rearview mirror, and Castiel blinked at the scolding, looking as unruffled as ever. Before the obvious question could fall from Castiel’s lips, Sam turned, his voice rising in question. “A prophet? Like Chuck?”
“No way,” Dean snorted. “She’s too good lookin’ to be a prophet. Plus, she was sober.”
“Ezekiel was quite attractive, so I’ve been led to believe,” Castiel said. “But I do not see how that matters.”
“You couldn’t have popped in and mentioned this before?” Sam asked, Dean’s annoyed looked spreading to his brother. “It would have saved us the trip out here.”
Castiel contemplated the view out the window, the inflection of his voice neither irritated nor interested. “I do not recall seeing her name on the list before, but it is there now. That means she is one of the chosen.”
“Like Buffy?” Dean looked amused by the idea. “Jaye’s not nearly so…perky.”
Castiel cocked his head, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I do not remember a Buffy on the list either. What is the last name?”
“I’ll introduce you,” Dean said with a sigh, slumping in the driver’s seat as his momentary amusement evaporated. “She’s a cheerleader, just your type.”
“I think you mean your type, Dean,” Sam murmured, trying to change the subject to something a little less argument inducing.
“I don’t have time to meet your associates,” Castiel interrupted. “I just came to remind both of you that you have a destiny-”
“Whatever,” Dean snapped, stopping short in the parking space in front of their room. “The only destiny that Sam and I have is to go to bed, meet up with the crazy chick for nachos tomorrow, and ask the littlest prophet if she’s got any leads on Lucifer. That’s it.”
“You have bigger things to worry about than nachos,” Castiel said. “The Apocalypse is almost here, and neither of you are ready for what you must do.”
Dean turned in the driver’s seat to aim a glare at Castiel, but the angel was already gone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Barrel wasn’t nearly as busy at 4:00 as it would be later in the evening once the work crowd started trickling in, so it took Sam and Dean only a couple of minutes to situate themselves at a back table. Dean made himself comfortable, legs spreading to take up even more space like he owned that small piece of real estate, while Sam sat stiff and reserved, as if afraid even that small amount of relaxation might herald the end of the world.
“So…” Dean began, his serious tone making Sam sit even more upright in response. “Do you think the nachos are really free?”
Sam, expecting a detailed plan of questioning for Jaye regarding Lucifer’s whereabouts, just gave his brother a look and flipped the table card toward him – the one that proclaimed FREE NACHOS (one serving with order of first beverage) in large, bold type.
“I’d say yes.”
Dean hmmed in response, gaze intent on the appetizer menu, both of the men seemingly unsure of what to do with this quiet time between them. It wasn’t like it always had been before – now the air crackled with tension, neither of them able to relax while so unsure of the other’s response.
With a sigh of relief, Sam nudged Dean with his boot, murmuring, “Here she comes,” as he calmly set the place card back on the table and shoved his utensils to the side as if clearing the way for his order.
“Hey!” Jaye said, collapsing into the booth next to Dean. “Wasn’t sure you’d show up, since my brother went all Lepeska on you.”
Dean shrugged, signaling for the waitress. “We just came for the free food. You’re buying, right?”
“Heck, no,” Jaye snorted. “You scavenge your own carrion, Cujo. This place is mine.” She smiled brightly when Mahandra slid a plate of nachos in front of her, along with a bottle of cold beer.
Dean frowned at the display, but kept his hands to himself. He held up a menu and said, “Can we get-?” but Mahandra as already gone before he could complete the sentence.
“You said you wanted to help us,” Sam reminded Jaye, before his brother tried anything. Dean was staring at Jaye’s plate with an intensity that was disturbing.
“Uh-huh,” Jaye agreed through a mouthful of cheese. She looked thoughtful as she chewed, and after she swallowed she added hopefully, “You want a chip?”
“We need some information,” Dean said, grabbing several before she could take back her offer.
“’Bout what?”
“Lucifer…where is he?”
“Who?”
“Lucifer….” At her blank look, Dean went on, “Y’know, Beelzebub, The Dark Lord, Satan….”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of him. I thought you were kidding.”
“You’ve got connections,” Sam reminded her, arching both of his eyebrows toward his hairline and jerking his chin upward to show what he meant. “Very high-up connections.”
“Don’t listen to my brother,” Jaye grumbled, shoving another chip into her mouth. Her next words were muffled. “Too much studying fried his brain.”
“We weren’t listening to your brother,” Dean admitted around his own mouthful. “We’ve got our own connections.”
“We need to talk.”
The steady voice interrupted their conversation, and Castiel loomed at the edge of their table, looking just as rumpled as ever. He cocked his head to the side, taking in Jaye’s irritated expression, and asked, “Is this your friend Buffy?”
Dean stifled a snort. “Cas, meet Jaye.”
Castiel paused a beat, which is as far as he went to acknowledge Jaye’s presence, before he refocused on the Winchesters.
“We’re running out of ti-”
“I’m running out of nachos,” Jaye announced. She stood up and shoved her way past the trench-coated figure blocking her exit. Castiel ignored her departure, keeping his intense gaze on the two brothers as he sat primly down in the seat across from them.
“Destiny demands-”
Aaron suddenly slid into the seat beside Castiel, giving the man a distracted, “Hey” in acknowledgement before focusing on Sam.
“Look, I really-”
“We already told you,” Dean interrupted, his voice lowering threateningly, “that we’re not interested.”
“You totally don’t get what I’m going for here, man,” Aaron pleaded, spreading his hands out in supplication. “I mean, think about it, civilization has been defined and redefined by man’s search for God-”
Castiel looked suddenly more alert beside him. “Do you know where He is?”
“Who?” Aaron asked, confused.
“The Father.”
“My father? He’s at work.”
“I know,” Castiel said with a touch of impatience. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them to say, “He is drinking coffee, two sugars, and discussing an upcoming osteopathic procedure. He should use the titanium rather than the steel, by the way.” This deluge of information was followed quickly by, “Do you know where God is?”
“Um…no,” Aaron said, with one quick blink as he tried to absorb this news, “but one of my sister’s ‘friends’ might know. You should ask her.”
Castiel peered over his shoulder at the dark-haired girl lounging at the bar and cocked his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “Perhaps she knows Joshua.”
“She’s known a lot of guys, but she’s dating Eric now, I think,” Aaron added helpfully.
“She may know of His location?”
“Um…yeah. He’s in New York. He calls every day, the poor sucker.”
Castiel’s eyebrows flew towards his hairline. “He calls her?” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “Perhaps she might inform Him that I am searching for Him.”
“Sure,” Aaron said slowly. “I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t mind talking to you.”
Castiel looked almost pleased at this affirmation and quickly made his way toward the girl at the bar. After his exit, Aaron turned to Sam and Dean with a confused expression. “He knows Eric?”
Dean snorted into his beer, and Sam tracked Castiel’s progress as he followed what looked like an extremely annoyed Jaye into the ladies restroom, only to be shoved roughly out the door a second later.
“No,” Sam admitted. “I think it’s a different ‘Eric’ he’s looking for.”
Dean snickered when the ladies room door swung wildly behind Jaye, nearly hitting Castiel in the face when he took a step forward to follow her once more. The raised voices only added to the melee when Mahandra joined in, shouting at the perv in the trench coat to go pee in the street if he had to go so badly.
“It’s like watching Wile E. Coyote,” Dean mused, “but in a threesome.”
Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust at the intrigued expression that momentarily flashed over Dean’s face, nudging his brother in the shin to divert his attention.
“But think about it!” Aaron insisted, leaning forward and pressing his stomach against the edge of the table in his eagerness. “You came to this town on vacation, bump into my sister – who happens to tap into the messianic,” here he waved his fingers in the air around his head, “wavelengths crisscrossing the universe. We meet in my living room, and I discover that you’re the-” His voice lowered and his eyes flicked around the bar before he hissed, “…Anti-Christ. It’s kismet!” He picked up his drink in a toast and added, “Destiny!”
“They both have proven resistant to destiny.” Castiel’s voice startled Aaron and most of his drink landed on the table when he jerked in his seat. “The word means nothing to them.” The expression on Castiel’s face underscored his feelings on the subject.
“Destiny?” Jaye chimed in from behind him. “Destiny should be avoided at all costs. I’ve heard enough about destiny to last a lifetime.” She threw up her hands, eyes raised to the ceiling, and said, “‘Surrender to Destiny’…what kind of crap theory is that? Especially when you wind up dead! Look at the Maid of the Mist; she saves her tribe, even after they threw her over the waterfall. Selfish bastards. Someone throws me over a waterfall, and I’d let ‘em rot.” Her eyes flicked over to where she’d left her bag at the bar, and a guilty look flashed over her face. “Uh…unless, maybe, they really needed the help?” Jaye’s expression hardened, and she amended, “But no surrendering! Only pathetic losers surrender.” At that, she stalked off towards the kitchens, shouting for Mahandra.
“Destiny cannot be avoided,” Castiel informed Dean. “You foresaw Detroit-”
Dean aimed a dead-eyed smirk in Castiel’s direction. “What she said.” He got to his feet, and barked, “C’mon, Sam. Let’s go. We’ve got an appointment in Utah.”
Sam quickly followed his brother, Aaron hot on their trail, still asking questions and pleading for the rights of academia. Castiel watched as Sam and Dean made their way out of the door, the stiff set to Dean’s shoulders indicating he had understood exactly what Castiel wasn’t saying, and he didn’t like it one bit.
Not that it mattered. Castiel was merely the messenger.
Castiel’s gaze swung around the empty restaurant, taking in everything now that his purpose had been fulfilled. A flash of red caught Castiel’s eye, and he turned his head down toward the bar, where the smooshed face lion rested in all its waxen glory beside Jaye’s bag.
“Hello, Gabriel,” Castiel murmured with a resigned sigh. “I should have known.”
Author: ZanneS
Genre: Gen/crossover (SPN/Wonderfalls)
Rating: PG (bad language)
Characters: Sam, Dean, Jaye Tyler, Karen Tyler, Aaron Tyler, Sharon, Tyler, Darrin Tyler, Mahandra, Castiel
Summary: "Surrender to Destiny" is a terrible catchphrase.
Author's Note: Thank you to
candygrammeand cappy712for betaing! Supernatural belongs to Kripke and Wonderfalls belongs to Fuller.Mahandra bounced up to the table only a moment later, a wide smile in place. “Mrs. Tyler! It’s so good to see you here today! What’s the occasion?”
Karen gave Mahandra a discriminating stare. “Since Aaron has selected you as his new girlfriend, we’ve decided as a family to support your place of employment more often.”
“Thanks, Aaron,” Jaye said with a kick to his shin.
He frowned in his sister’s direction, wincing at the sharp pain.
“Yeah, thanks Aaron,” Mahandra agreed, adding her own bruise next to Jaye’s.
Aaron smothered a quiet hiss of pain, reaching for his abused shin before he stopped himself, trying to avoid his mother’s attention. “It’s not my fault!” he murmured. “You know how Mom gets.”
Mahandra snorted and pulled out her order pad, her smile for the rest of the Tylers far less forced than previously. “Do you all want the usual?”
Jaye made some furtive hand motions as Mahandra took their orders, mouthing something in Mahandra’s direction as she hid her face from the rest of her family using the menu as a shield. Her tactics seemed to fool most of the table, though Sam and Dean stared at her as if they could see through the cheap laminated paper that disguised her communications, before sharing another aggrieved look. Mahandra furrowed her brow in confusion at Jaye’s gesticulations, before realization dawned, her eyes widening as she crammed her order pad back into her apron pocket.
“Uh, I’ll be right back with your drinks!”
“So, what are such two fine gentlemen doing in our lovely little town?” Mrs. Tyler inquired politely, turning her even-eyed gaze back onto the two men. “Are you looking to settle down?” Karen Tyler immediately switched on her smile and aimed it in Jaye’s direction. “Jaye’s boyfriend is in New York right now, but even he couldn’t resist the allure of the Falls.”
“Plus,” Sharon added, “he caught his wife blowing the bellboy on their honeymoon.” She smiled around the breadstick clenched between her teeth, before she bit down with a crisp snap, mumbling around her mouthful, “Where’s the food? I’m starving.”
Dean was enchanted.
“Sharon,” Mrs. Tyler said, her tone dripping with disapproval. “We do not discuss such matters over lunch.”
“Yes,” Mr. Tyler agreed, craning his neck towards the kitchen. “That’s much more appropriate a topic when having cocktails. Now where’s my martini?”
The conversation halted when Mahandra came bustling out of the kitchen with bags in hand. “Here you go, gentlemen,” she said, huffing only slightly from the rush. “Your to-go order is ready. The Barrel hopes to see you again soon!”
Dean arched an eyebrow in her direction, Sam looking momentarily confused before Jaye elbowed him not-so-covertly in the side. “Uh, yeah,” Sam said, blinking at the nudge. “We’ve got that…thing we need to get to.”
“Thing?” Dean demanded. “What thing? The only thing I want are my curly fries!” His lower lip pushed out slightly and he looked like a two-year-old verging on a tantrum.
“I apologize for my brother,” Sam said as Jaye stood to clear the way. He followed her out of the booth as he snatched the bags off the table, tossing a couple bills onto the table to cover their check. “Hunger makes him cranky. C’mon, Dean, or the gulls are getting your fries.”
“Why don’t we head out?” Jaye suggested brightly. “I’ve got to get back to work.”
“I thought your shift end–” Mahandra’s declaration was cut off by another swift elbow. She glared at Jaye, but nodded as her friend shepherded the men toward the door.
“Jaye, dear,” Mrs. Tyler called out. “Remember to invite your friends over sometime soon!”
Outside the door to The Barrel Dean stopped, Sam bumping into his back as Dean turned to face Jaye and snatched one of the to-go bags from Sam’s hand. He reached into the crumpled bag and shoved some fries into his mouth before directing his ire in Jaye’s direction. “What in the hell is going on?”
Jaye shrugged, her face pinched in annoyance. “Would you rather have spent the next couple of hours talking to my family? Even I try to get out of that as often as possible!”
Dean still look irritated, though the constant application of fries seemed to be soothing his nerves. Sam decided to let his brother distract himself with food, and said, “Thanks, I guess.”
“So,” Jaye began hesitantly. “Do you need…anything?” She caught sight of Dean’s grease-stained lips and suggested with a relieved smile, “A napkin?” Jaye dug into her pockets and pulled out a torn tissue and some broken mints. “Peppermint?” She was hoping this might be an easy fix and they’d just come out and tell her what they needed so the wax lion would get off her back for a few days.
Dean turned to walk towards a big, black car taking up nearly two spaces in the parking lot. “We’ve got some business to take care of. Hope to not see you again soon,” he called back over his shoulder. “Sam! Car!”
Sam gave Jaye a polite smile and jogged after his brother, sliding into the passenger seat. They pulled out only a few seconds later, Dean waving a paper wrapped burger – or maybe that was just his finger – in her direction, before turning right out of the parking lot.
Jaye sighed, eyes going heavenward as she said, “See? I tried. They obviously didn’t need my help, so can I just go home and take a nap?” Her stomach rumbled in complaint, reminding her that her leisurely lunch had been interrupted. She warily eyed the restaurant she had just left, knowing that her family had battened down the hatches for at least the next hour. She couldn’t go back in there or she’d be trapped.
“That’s just great,” Jaye groaned. “Where else can I get some free food?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Is it me, or is this whole town weird?” Dean grumbled, pulling the car to a stop across from a neatly landscaped white colonial. “Not a single person we talked to knew anything, and they sure seemed happy about it.” He glared mutinously at the peppy pink flamingos dotting the lawn as if this lack of information might be their fault, and said under his breath, “I thought rich people were supposed to have good taste.”
“Not good,” Sam replied. “Just more expensive.”
Dean sighed, loosening his shoulders from the long afternoon in the car. “C’mon. Last one and then we grab something to eat, go back to the motel, and watch some pay-per-view.”
They walked up the neatly lined brick path toward the front door, still bickering over their wasted afternoon. “I though for sure the fat kid was going to cave,” Dean grumbled.
“I wasn’t going to let you hit a little kid,” Sam said, his exasperation obvious from his huffed tone.
“He bit me!” Dean exclaimed. “What kind of kid does that?”
“You,” Sam pointed out, a touch of amusement coloring his words. “You didn’t like sharing your Coco Puffs. I’m lucky I’ve still got all of my fingers.”
“That was a life or death situation,” Dean demurred. “Totally different.”
“Life or death how?” Sam demanded incredulously.
“In that I was going to kill you for stealing my toy surprise. You were a little klepto as a kid.” Dean appeared completely satisfied with his answer. “It was for your own good.”
“Obviously,” Sam agreed, knocking sharply on the door.
The door opened and their gazes fell to meet Jaye’s wide, blue eyes staring at them over the shiny candy apple stuffed in her mouth. Behind her someone shouted breathlessly, “Tell ‘em it’s free! It’s been over half an hour already!”, and the door was flung open even further to reveal Sharon standing by Jaye’s shoulder.
“Oh, look,” Sharon said with glee. “It’s Jaye’s Lost Boys! I feel just like Wendy in Peter Pan.” Her expression turned more serious and she hissed at Jaye, “They don’t get any of my pineapple pizza.”
Jaye shoved Sharon away from the door and pulled the apple from her mouth, leaving her lips sticky and red. “Ignore her. She’s PMSing.”
“Jaye!” came from somewhere down the hall, the exclamation muffled by a loud burst of male laughter. “I hate you all,” Sharon declared somewhere from the depths of the house.
Jaye’s eyes flicked to the plain T-shirt hidden under Sam’s flannel, and a look of relief flooded over her face. She waved her treat in their general direction, the sweet scent of its candied skin drifting toward their noses. “You wanna come in and have an apple? We’re playing Scrabble tonight.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sam had barely closed the bathroom door behind him when Dean forced his way in, slamming it shut and leaning against it with an irritated exhalation.
Sam arched an eyebrow at his brother, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Subtle, Dean. There’s no way anyone would think something’s up.”
When Dean didn’t immediately reply, Sam’s second eyebrow joined the first. “Do you need anything or is this just a social call? Otherwise, I got here first, so wait your turn.”
“Sharon said that we reminded her of these two squirrely guys that had been following Jaye around a couple of weeks ago, wanting to interview her for their website – their para-science website.” Dean’s eyes widened meaningfully as his voice dropped. “It’s her,” he hissed, pointing over his shoulder at the door.
“What are you talking about?”
“Jane Taylor!”
“It’s Jaye Ty-” Sam stopped himself, his eyes sliding closed as he shook his head. “We’re idiots.”
“You’re the idiot, Mr. Triple-Word-Score. We’re just lucky I convinced you to stay to interrogate these people.”
“You stayed for the double pepperoni,” Sam replied, turning to wash his hands in the sink. “Speaking of…,” Sam jerked his head toward the door. “Out.”
“Right,” Dean nodded. “I’ll spike her root beer with holy water and you get some salt from the kitchen.”
“In a minute.”
“Demons wait for no man!”
“They can wait long enough for me to go to the bathroom,” Sam insisted, shoving Dean out the door and slamming it in his face.
Dean frowned at the white wood in front of his nose, hissing loudly, “Way to go, Sam. It’s no wonder Lucifer wants to wear you to the Winter Formal!” He slammed the flat of his hand against the door and stalked off toward the living room as Aaron and Jaye came around the corner from the kitchen, Aaron’s eyes wide and wondering.
“Huh,” Jaye said, pursing her lips and glancing at her brother. “Maybe he really is the Anti-Christ.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The tension between Sam and Dean simmered almost tangibly in the air when Sam returned from his trip to the bathroom. Jaye began to wonder if her mission might simply be to make them kiss and make up after all, and looked almost cheerful as their dour mood infected even her usually buoyant siblings. Aaron was studying Sam with a calculated air, his eyes occasionally flicking toward Jaye before returning to Sam’s hulking figure sitting awkwardly on their mother’s delicate furniture. It definitely wasn’t meant for men of Sam’s – or Dean’s, for that matter – caliber, making the two men look even larger and rougher by comparison.
It’s a good thing her parents had gone off to some kind of bridge club emergency earlier that evening, or her mother might be having heart palpitations over the thought of what all that rough leather and denim was doing to her delicate fabrics.
Sharon, ever the lawyer, was keyed into the tension. She eyeballed them both as if waiting for her chance to interrogate them, fingers twitching for her absent, but much longed for, cigarette. If Jaye didn’t do something soon, her sister would be at the chocolate-covered pretzel sticks again just to have something cylindrical shoved in her mouth. And from past experience, Jaye knew that was disaster in the making.
Sharon got cranky when she was craving nicotine.
It didn’t help that Aaron had decided to be extra weird this evening and had been dropping odd conversational tidbits in Sam’s direction, asking the man if he had any strange marking or tattoos that looked like numbers, or did he know many languages, and what his religious affiliations might be.
Maybe she should have kept that Anti-Christ tidbit to herself, Jaye thought.
The tension was disrupted by the shrill ring of Sharon’s cell phone. Keeping one eye on their guests, Sharon snapped it open with an equally sharp, “Hello?”
At the first faint hum of someone responding, Sharon’s face relaxed, the stern lines smoothing out as her voice took on a more playful, teasing air. “You don’t say. Yeah…I’ll be there with bells on.”
“Girlfriend,” Jaye murmured in Sam and Dean’s direction.
Sam started, his mulish glare in Dean’s direction momentarily interrupted. “Wait a minute, didn’t you try to set me up with your sister earlier?”
Sharon giggled into her phone at the muffled reply and snapped it shut with one hand, quickly getting to her feet. “Uh, I’ve got business. See you later Aaron and Jaye.” She gave the two men sitting on her mother’s couch another stern look, and Dean was startled enough to nearly drop his cookie. “And remember, Mom and Dad said they’d be back before 12:00, so if anyone’s dead when they get here, I know who to look for.”
With that, she grabbed her coat and purse off the chair by the door and hustled out, calling out over her shoulder, “I’ve written down your license plate number!”
Dean shrugged and picked up the cow-shaped creamer off the coffee table, noticing the fine crack that ringed its ceramic neck. He hoped the thing was leak-proof and tried to aim carefully for his coffee cup, not wanting to spill on the carpet.
The sound of Sharon’s car peeling down the street was still reverberating through the air when Aaron leaned toward Sam. “Look,” he said, setting his coffee cup on the table with a loud thunk and knocking over a stack of magazines. He didn’t seem to notice the mess, instead resting his elbows on his knees and loosely clasping his hands in front of him. “You could really help me out if you answered a few questions. An interview with the Anti-Christ in my thesis? That’s a guaranteed A+!”
Sam twitched in his seat, startled, and his eyes skirted to Jaye as Dean tensed beside him, looking as if he were preparing to jump Aaron and pound him into unconsciousness with the creamer in his hand. Then Dean purposefully relaxed and gave a careless shrug, as if nothing in the world could bother him. “Nah, the Anti-Christ is much shorter than Sam here.”
Jaye just shrugged, looking a little annoyed at the conversational detour, and bit into a cookie, crumbs spilling down her shirt as she mumbled, “Don’t look at me. He thinks I’m the messiah of inanimate objects.”
Okay, so maybe she didn’t just have to make them kiss and make up. Dammit. She was fondly recalling those long ago days – was it really only a few weeks ago? – when her biggest concern was a runaway nun with an odd fondness for cheese.
“This was a waste of time, Sam,” Dean said with renewed annoyance.
“The cow creamer speaks to you!” Aaron nearly shouted at Jaye, sounding more than a little exasperated. “It tells you to do things!” He narrowed his eyes in Sam’s direction, musing pointedly, “Does the cow creamer tell you to do things?”
“Maybe you should interview the cow creamer,” Dean interrupted, thunking the ceramic container and his cup on the coffee table and wiping his hands on his thighs as if they might be contaminated by the weirdness. “Y’know, the cow behind the curtain; it seems to be callin’ all the shots.”
“It won’t talk to me,” Aaron admitted off-handedly, staring at Sam as if trying to pin him in place with his gaze alone. “I tried.”
“Awkward,” Dean hissed, nudging Sam with his elbow and jerking his head toward the door.
“What about this?” Aaron demanded, shoving a pig-shaped thing under Sam’s nose. “Or this?” A stuffed iguana that seemed to appear out of nowhere took its place beside the pig in Aaron’s other outstretched hand.
Sam sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if fending off a headache. “Look, the cow creamer hasn’t talked to me, or the pig pepper shaker, or the iguana, or even that ash tray over there that looks like a…fish?” He shook his head in confusion and reiterated, “Nothing. So Dean and I are going to head out, and get on with our business.”
Aaron was already glaring speculatively at the ash tray, leaning forward and whispering, “Hello?” as Jaye rolled her eyes and got to her feet. She followed the two men to the door, Dean craning his neck to watch Aaron setting the creamer and pepper shaker by the ash tray like some kind of ceramic summit meeting, the iguana overseeing things with its large cotton eyes.
“Is your brother, y’know…crazy?” Dean asked bluntly.
“Yes, but he’s harmless,” Jaye replied. There was a loud crack from the living room, followed by a muffled curse, before she added, “Mostly.”
Aaron appeared behind her, moving quickly for such a large man. “How about these?” he questioned, his hands filled with a stuffed donkey and a plastic flamingo.
“What are you?” Dean growled, his annoyance becoming more obvious. “A freakin’ magician?” He grabbed the flamingo from Aaron and, with one hand wrapped tightly around its plastic throat, growled, “Now, we’re leaving, or the flamingo gets it.” He made his way to the door, Sam following him outside.
“For science!” Aaron shouted as they walked quickly across the lawn toward their car. “For my doctorate! People have a right to know!”
Dean gave Aaron his opinion with a quick gesture over his shoulder, tossing the flamingo onto the grass and determinedly crossing the street.
Sam took one more look back at Aaron and Jaye, the girl standing on the doorstep while Aaron knelt to assess the damage to the flamingo, his hands fluttering worriedly over its plastic corpse. Jaye called out, “Happy Hour is from 4:00-8:00 at The Barrel! Free nachos tomorrow!”
The car shook under Sam’s hand when Dean slammed the door behind him, and from that alone Sam knew Dean was pissed. He slid into the passenger seat beside his brother, leaving the Tyler siblings standing on their lawn in the darkness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“That whole family is nuts,” Dean declared as he pulled out into the street, the lights rippling slowly across the sleek, black hood of the Impala.
Sam nodded, staring out the side window at the pristine colonial falling behind them.
“She’s not possessed,” Sam finally said in reply. “And there was no sign of spirit activity in the house. The EMF was baseline the whole time.”
“Then what is she?”
“She’s a prophet,” a heavy voice from the back informed them.
Dean’s grip jerked the steering wheel as he started in surprise, making the Impala swerve into the other lane and instigating a sharp series of honks and squealing tires from the cars around him.
“Dammit, Cas! You need to wear a God-damned bell!”
The angel’s eyes focused on Dean’s in the rearview mirror, and Castiel blinked at the scolding, looking as unruffled as ever. Before the obvious question could fall from Castiel’s lips, Sam turned, his voice rising in question. “A prophet? Like Chuck?”
“No way,” Dean snorted. “She’s too good lookin’ to be a prophet. Plus, she was sober.”
“Ezekiel was quite attractive, so I’ve been led to believe,” Castiel said. “But I do not see how that matters.”
“You couldn’t have popped in and mentioned this before?” Sam asked, Dean’s annoyed looked spreading to his brother. “It would have saved us the trip out here.”
Castiel contemplated the view out the window, the inflection of his voice neither irritated nor interested. “I do not recall seeing her name on the list before, but it is there now. That means she is one of the chosen.”
“Like Buffy?” Dean looked amused by the idea. “Jaye’s not nearly so…perky.”
Castiel cocked his head, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I do not remember a Buffy on the list either. What is the last name?”
“I’ll introduce you,” Dean said with a sigh, slumping in the driver’s seat as his momentary amusement evaporated. “She’s a cheerleader, just your type.”
“I think you mean your type, Dean,” Sam murmured, trying to change the subject to something a little less argument inducing.
“I don’t have time to meet your associates,” Castiel interrupted. “I just came to remind both of you that you have a destiny-”
“Whatever,” Dean snapped, stopping short in the parking space in front of their room. “The only destiny that Sam and I have is to go to bed, meet up with the crazy chick for nachos tomorrow, and ask the littlest prophet if she’s got any leads on Lucifer. That’s it.”
“You have bigger things to worry about than nachos,” Castiel said. “The Apocalypse is almost here, and neither of you are ready for what you must do.”
Dean turned in the driver’s seat to aim a glare at Castiel, but the angel was already gone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Barrel wasn’t nearly as busy at 4:00 as it would be later in the evening once the work crowd started trickling in, so it took Sam and Dean only a couple of minutes to situate themselves at a back table. Dean made himself comfortable, legs spreading to take up even more space like he owned that small piece of real estate, while Sam sat stiff and reserved, as if afraid even that small amount of relaxation might herald the end of the world.
“So…” Dean began, his serious tone making Sam sit even more upright in response. “Do you think the nachos are really free?”
Sam, expecting a detailed plan of questioning for Jaye regarding Lucifer’s whereabouts, just gave his brother a look and flipped the table card toward him – the one that proclaimed FREE NACHOS (one serving with order of first beverage) in large, bold type.
“I’d say yes.”
Dean hmmed in response, gaze intent on the appetizer menu, both of the men seemingly unsure of what to do with this quiet time between them. It wasn’t like it always had been before – now the air crackled with tension, neither of them able to relax while so unsure of the other’s response.
With a sigh of relief, Sam nudged Dean with his boot, murmuring, “Here she comes,” as he calmly set the place card back on the table and shoved his utensils to the side as if clearing the way for his order.
“Hey!” Jaye said, collapsing into the booth next to Dean. “Wasn’t sure you’d show up, since my brother went all Lepeska on you.”
Dean shrugged, signaling for the waitress. “We just came for the free food. You’re buying, right?”
“Heck, no,” Jaye snorted. “You scavenge your own carrion, Cujo. This place is mine.” She smiled brightly when Mahandra slid a plate of nachos in front of her, along with a bottle of cold beer.
Dean frowned at the display, but kept his hands to himself. He held up a menu and said, “Can we get-?” but Mahandra as already gone before he could complete the sentence.
“You said you wanted to help us,” Sam reminded Jaye, before his brother tried anything. Dean was staring at Jaye’s plate with an intensity that was disturbing.
“Uh-huh,” Jaye agreed through a mouthful of cheese. She looked thoughtful as she chewed, and after she swallowed she added hopefully, “You want a chip?”
“We need some information,” Dean said, grabbing several before she could take back her offer.
“’Bout what?”
“Lucifer…where is he?”
“Who?”
“Lucifer….” At her blank look, Dean went on, “Y’know, Beelzebub, The Dark Lord, Satan….”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of him. I thought you were kidding.”
“You’ve got connections,” Sam reminded her, arching both of his eyebrows toward his hairline and jerking his chin upward to show what he meant. “Very high-up connections.”
“Don’t listen to my brother,” Jaye grumbled, shoving another chip into her mouth. Her next words were muffled. “Too much studying fried his brain.”
“We weren’t listening to your brother,” Dean admitted around his own mouthful. “We’ve got our own connections.”
“We need to talk.”
The steady voice interrupted their conversation, and Castiel loomed at the edge of their table, looking just as rumpled as ever. He cocked his head to the side, taking in Jaye’s irritated expression, and asked, “Is this your friend Buffy?”
Dean stifled a snort. “Cas, meet Jaye.”
Castiel paused a beat, which is as far as he went to acknowledge Jaye’s presence, before he refocused on the Winchesters.
“We’re running out of ti-”
“I’m running out of nachos,” Jaye announced. She stood up and shoved her way past the trench-coated figure blocking her exit. Castiel ignored her departure, keeping his intense gaze on the two brothers as he sat primly down in the seat across from them.
“Destiny demands-”
Aaron suddenly slid into the seat beside Castiel, giving the man a distracted, “Hey” in acknowledgement before focusing on Sam.
“Look, I really-”
“We already told you,” Dean interrupted, his voice lowering threateningly, “that we’re not interested.”
“You totally don’t get what I’m going for here, man,” Aaron pleaded, spreading his hands out in supplication. “I mean, think about it, civilization has been defined and redefined by man’s search for God-”
Castiel looked suddenly more alert beside him. “Do you know where He is?”
“Who?” Aaron asked, confused.
“The Father.”
“My father? He’s at work.”
“I know,” Castiel said with a touch of impatience. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them to say, “He is drinking coffee, two sugars, and discussing an upcoming osteopathic procedure. He should use the titanium rather than the steel, by the way.” This deluge of information was followed quickly by, “Do you know where God is?”
“Um…no,” Aaron said, with one quick blink as he tried to absorb this news, “but one of my sister’s ‘friends’ might know. You should ask her.”
Castiel peered over his shoulder at the dark-haired girl lounging at the bar and cocked his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “Perhaps she knows Joshua.”
“She’s known a lot of guys, but she’s dating Eric now, I think,” Aaron added helpfully.
“She may know of His location?”
“Um…yeah. He’s in New York. He calls every day, the poor sucker.”
Castiel’s eyebrows flew towards his hairline. “He calls her?” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “Perhaps she might inform Him that I am searching for Him.”
“Sure,” Aaron said slowly. “I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t mind talking to you.”
Castiel looked almost pleased at this affirmation and quickly made his way toward the girl at the bar. After his exit, Aaron turned to Sam and Dean with a confused expression. “He knows Eric?”
Dean snorted into his beer, and Sam tracked Castiel’s progress as he followed what looked like an extremely annoyed Jaye into the ladies restroom, only to be shoved roughly out the door a second later.
“No,” Sam admitted. “I think it’s a different ‘Eric’ he’s looking for.”
Dean snickered when the ladies room door swung wildly behind Jaye, nearly hitting Castiel in the face when he took a step forward to follow her once more. The raised voices only added to the melee when Mahandra joined in, shouting at the perv in the trench coat to go pee in the street if he had to go so badly.
“It’s like watching Wile E. Coyote,” Dean mused, “but in a threesome.”
Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust at the intrigued expression that momentarily flashed over Dean’s face, nudging his brother in the shin to divert his attention.
“But think about it!” Aaron insisted, leaning forward and pressing his stomach against the edge of the table in his eagerness. “You came to this town on vacation, bump into my sister – who happens to tap into the messianic,” here he waved his fingers in the air around his head, “wavelengths crisscrossing the universe. We meet in my living room, and I discover that you’re the-” His voice lowered and his eyes flicked around the bar before he hissed, “…Anti-Christ. It’s kismet!” He picked up his drink in a toast and added, “Destiny!”
“They both have proven resistant to destiny.” Castiel’s voice startled Aaron and most of his drink landed on the table when he jerked in his seat. “The word means nothing to them.” The expression on Castiel’s face underscored his feelings on the subject.
“Destiny?” Jaye chimed in from behind him. “Destiny should be avoided at all costs. I’ve heard enough about destiny to last a lifetime.” She threw up her hands, eyes raised to the ceiling, and said, “‘Surrender to Destiny’…what kind of crap theory is that? Especially when you wind up dead! Look at the Maid of the Mist; she saves her tribe, even after they threw her over the waterfall. Selfish bastards. Someone throws me over a waterfall, and I’d let ‘em rot.” Her eyes flicked over to where she’d left her bag at the bar, and a guilty look flashed over her face. “Uh…unless, maybe, they really needed the help?” Jaye’s expression hardened, and she amended, “But no surrendering! Only pathetic losers surrender.” At that, she stalked off towards the kitchens, shouting for Mahandra.
“Destiny cannot be avoided,” Castiel informed Dean. “You foresaw Detroit-”
Dean aimed a dead-eyed smirk in Castiel’s direction. “What she said.” He got to his feet, and barked, “C’mon, Sam. Let’s go. We’ve got an appointment in Utah.”
Sam quickly followed his brother, Aaron hot on their trail, still asking questions and pleading for the rights of academia. Castiel watched as Sam and Dean made their way out of the door, the stiff set to Dean’s shoulders indicating he had understood exactly what Castiel wasn’t saying, and he didn’t like it one bit.
Not that it mattered. Castiel was merely the messenger.
Castiel’s gaze swung around the empty restaurant, taking in everything now that his purpose had been fulfilled. A flash of red caught Castiel’s eye, and he turned his head down toward the bar, where the smooshed face lion rested in all its waxen glory beside Jaye’s bag.
“Hello, Gabriel,” Castiel murmured with a resigned sigh. “I should have known.”
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no subject
Date: 2012-02-01 03:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-02 01:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-01 07:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-02 01:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-01 09:45 pm (UTC)Thanks for posting. If there's more, I'll read it. =]
no subject
Date: 2012-02-02 01:58 am (UTC)This was a one-shot. The Boys left Jaye and her craziness behind.
no subject
Date: 2012-02-02 04:11 am (UTC)I can understand the talking wax lion, and the Sam's talking shirt--even Jaye turning into some kind of prophet. Those made sense, but Jaye's family? They were crazy. No wonder Jaye talks to Honey Bears: they make more sense.
Yeah, I figured that you'd ended it. Ah well. Maybe someone else will drop by the Falls...
no subject
Date: 2012-02-02 04:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-05 05:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-05 05:45 am (UTC)