mclachland

Whenever someone mentioned Heaven's gates, or every time Bob Dylan's sheriff crooned about knocking on Heaven's door, Dean had been under the impression that it was a metaphor. Hell, up until Castiel kicked down some barn doors, he was pretty sure that Heaven wasn't actually a place, never mind the kind of place that had gates.

But Bobby's door opens, and they are awash in light. Dean lifts an arm to shield his eyes, because holy shit, that's bright, and when his eyes adjust, he's standing in front of two gigantic gates.

Huh. "So, Sariel," he says with a grin, because Heaven's Gates. They're even pearly. "Do we knock?"

Sariel steps forward, next to him, and -- whoa.

She still looks human, and yet not human at all. The outline of her body is smudged with light, humming placidly with pure energy, and her features keep shifting. For a second, she looks like Sara Campbell and then suddenly her entire face collapses into white-gold smoke, then reconstructs itself to look like Sara. The angelic armor he'd been assured he couldn't see on the Mortal Plane is now shining brilliantly, Enochian carved into her breastplate and across the sweep of her shoulders.

He turns to Castiel and sucks in a breath.

There's so much more there, more than just smudged outlines and armor. The face that stares back at him isn't Jimmy Novak's but he knows it so well that it could be. The mouth that he's kissed and never kissed at all because it doesn't exist curves up and smiles at him.

"Dean," Castiel says, and it sounds like song.

Sam curses right behind Dean, at his shoulder. "So… this is what angels look like. I mean, really look like."

"To a point," Sariel says, her voice vibrating and echoing on a million different frequencies. "Your minds are still tethered to the human realm and therefore cannot comprehend our true forms completely. However, Heaven can compensate to some degree."

"What she means is, you can sort of see us without the risk of burning your faces off," Gabriel translates cheerfully. He sounds epic, like being right in the apex of a thunderstorm, yet somehow retains that douchey air about him.

Mora -- Belial, now, he supposes -- moves to stand next to Sariel. Her eyes are blacker than night, and like the angels, her outline is smudged, but it's oily and dark, thick and cloying and sinuous like cigarette smoke. Belial cocks her head and glances to where Moloch and Mammon are, their angel-ganking swords glinting in anticipation. Moloch doesn't look happy; Dean can't blame him.

Swallowing, Dean turns and faces his friends, his army, his -- fuck, his people, and then looks up into Sam's face, pushing past the fear and the mind-numbing responsibility resting on all of their shoulders to wrap him in tightest hug ever.

Sam exhales shakily and coils his arms around Dean, squeezing hard enough to make his ribs creak in protest, and mutters, "All you have to do is sit your lazy ass down. I actually have to do the hard part."

"Fuck you." He laughs and chokes down something hard and jagged, like a sob. "Don't you dare get killed."

"Yeah, because the first thing I was planning to do was walk into a sword." But Sam holds him a little tighter anyway.

Satisfied, Dean releases Sam and steps back, moving to Castiel next. At the risk of exploding, he doesn't hug Castiel, but he does move close enough that he can feel the hum of Castiel's body, feel the searing pressure of him.

"You protect him at all costs," Dean whispers. He's not going to be able to do jack shit unless he knows that someone's going to be watching Sam's back, and the only person he'd trust besides Bobby to watch out for his baby brother is Castiel.

Castiel seems to understand. "To the death."

If it comes to that. Oh, Christ, who is he even kidding? Of course it's going to come to that. He's never been much of an endurance runner, more of a sprinting kind of guy, so he'll definitely tire out before he even hopes to reach the Parthenon place. And the Metatron will come and beat him to death with sticks.

Whatever. He's doing to do his damnedest to park his ass on that Throne, so help him -- Him. Wow. Weird.

Shaking it off, he spins and shoots Bobby a grin, opening his arms wide. "How about it, Bobby?"

"Don't even try it," Bobby grumbles, but he's grinning back, and Dean can see the glint of a fight in his eyes. He's armed to the teeth, angel-banishing sigils all over his body, palms soaked in blood, oil painted over them to keep them fresh. "If you're done with the Lifetime moment, boy?"

"Bobby, mi amigo, what do you know about Lifetime?" Gabriel rumbles, all cheeky thunderclaps. "Well, kids?"

Something huge and indomitable moves behind Sariel, reaching out with a blindingly-bright limb to grasp her thin, light-smudged shoulder. It takes Dean a second to realize that mass of light and energy and sound is Raguel. This is the dude after whom all the stars were made.

Raguel stands next to Sariel and places her hand on a thin, light-smudged shoulder. "Sariel, are you ready?"

There's a sudden boom so loud that it scares the everloving shit out of him, and he spins around, watching as the gates slowly slide open, spilling light and mist outward at them. Sam steps a little closer to Dean, tied together by all the history between them, and Castiel moves to his other side, something sharp and entirely devastating in his hand.

"Oh," Sariel purrs, all rumbly amusement, and if she were completely human she'd be rolling her shoulders languidly. "I was born ready."

Sam smirks and tightens his grip on the sword that one of the angels had given him this morning, tripping all over herself at the thought of bestowing a gift unto the brother of the Lord, or something.

Sariel leads them through the gates, stepping confidently past the pearl doors and not stopping until all of their little misfit army is in. Dean stands next to her and squints, looking around.

It's white. It's an awful lot of white. In fact, there isn't anything there except white. A void stretches out in all directions, no floors or walls or even a horizon; it's like someone just erased everything and left. Yet somehow they're standing on what feels like firm ground and not floating off into this colorless abyss.

"This is Heaven?" Dean asks Raguel incredulously. "I can't even tell you how much of a let-down this is."

Gabriel scoffs and cuffs Dean around the head. "This isn't Heaven, fruitcake. You really think the Kingdom would be a whole lot of nothing?"

"Dude! Stop beating up God," Sam says with a grin. "Isn't that against the rules?"

"Not until he sits his flat ass on the Throne," Gabriel chirps, and knocks Dean about the head one more time. Dean bats at his hand in annoyance. Dean would end up being brain-damaged at the fault of his own team before a fight.

Castiel squints out to where the horizon would be. "Sariel."

Sariel exhales and just starts dissolving. It starts at her head and travels downward in a ripple effect, her entire body breaking into tiny bits and pieces that bounce off of each other and emit a sound like a chime until she's nothing but this pinging, writhing mess of light and atoms and energy. Each tiny shard of her breaks off into three more, and it keeps breaking down until she grows and grows and grows, sparks of lightning crackling at her expanding edges, humming with power.

Bobby mutters something that Dean can't understand, but he gets the sheer awe in Bobby's voice. Looking at what Sariel's becoming, he totally gets it.

"What's happening?" It's Rose. Dean had totally forgotten that she and Becks had even come. She sounds scared out of her mind, breathless and confused and shaking. He can't look at her, so totally fixated on Sariel that his eyes are probably going to melt out of his head.

Gabriel, when he answers, is quiet and reverent. "Dean-o wanted a herald, so he got one."

There's a deafening roar, like a plane's taking off right next to Dean's ear, followed by an explosion so bright that it somehow makes the white void they're standing in look dark by comparison. The massive thing that Sariel had become shoots into the "sky," bursting up in a giant geyser burst of color and sound, a trail of fire and wind twisting and burning before dissipating. Sariel disappears into the white, leaving all of them standing there, staring after her.

"If they didn't know we were here, they certainly do now," Sam mutters, gripping his sword tightly.

"Well," Bobby grumps, cocking one of his shotguns, completely fucking fearless. Old school hunter. No wonder Dad'd been friends with him. "Only thing to do is be ready for them. No pussy-footing around when they all come running."

Oh, right. Because there was going to be so much of that until Bobby'd said something.

Dean keeps his eyes on the non-horizon. It'd be really great if it played out like a movie, with the silhouettes of all the angels stepping into view, complete with the dramatic wind and the music swelling -- just so he knows what they're going to be dealing with. Heaven's a big place; there's no way the Metatron would be able to call all twenty-six billion angels just for their little party

So, they wait. And wait. And for a change of pace, they wait some more.

"… Are they coming?" Becks inquires softly, like if she speaks any louder all of Heaven's going to come crashing down on them.

Suddenly, there's a loud bang, and Anna's standing about twenty feet away.

Her chin lowers slightly and if she were human she'd be peering at them through her lashes, all coy and shit, and Dean would probably find it hot. Now, it's just annoying. And scary.

There's another bang, and another angel's standing a few feet away from Anna, staring Mora down.

Another bang, another angel. And another, and another, and another, and another. More and more and more, until they're completely surrounded. It's not just angels, he realizes, but some of them are demons. Hell, most of them are demons, dark and twisting like Mora, probably from all their time in the Pit.

Dean opens his mouth to deliver a truly inspired opener, but Raguel surreptitiously shakes his head once, and Dean remembers the new carvings in his ribs. He's invisible.

"We have long awaited your return, Raguel," Anna says loudly, her voice ringing out like a one-hundred person choir. The space behind her shimmers as her wings explode into six branches.

"I apologize for my absence," Raguel says, pleasant and calm, even as his own wings burst in all directions. He's… fantastic, for lack of a better word. He's amazing to look at, like he should be behind three feet of tempered glass so nothing unworthy would be able to touch him, and yet there's nothing that could cage him. Raguel was the first angel ever made and it shows in the way he holds himself, in the way he appears so contained and yet so everywhere, in the way that Dean's entire body thrums with the feel of him.

The Friend of God.

Sam twitches and Dean has to stop himself from casually asking Sam if he's got ants in his pants, but he glances down and sees the hand at Sam's side curl. The fingers of Sam's hand jerk again, his index and middle fingers pointing to --

Dean looks.

There's --

There's something.

"I must ask you to stop this, Anael," Raguel bellows, wings crackling and hissing with power. "You have all been misled! The Voice that speaks does not speak for all! The Word you follow has been issued with the tongue of a villain!"

"It is you who has been misled!" A new voice rings out. Barachiel. "Do you truly think we will welcome you back into the Kingdom after such an absence? I can sense the taint you carry, Raguel! Human. Demon. If you would stand with them against us, then we have no choice but to carry out our orders."

Gabriel steps forward, next to Raguel, brilliant. "And what orders were those, Barachiel? Or can you not remember them? Want me to wait while the Metatron feeds you your lines?"

Barachiel turns. "Gabriel. The other traitor."

"Couldn't stomach Heaven's version of entrapment." He pauses and then practically vibrates with dark humor. "Sorry. Loyalty."

"Your words do not matter now," Barachiel says. Behind her, coming from where the horizon would be, are hundreds of thousands of silhouettes, Heaven's warriors rushing toward them, just like in the movies. The only thing that could make it better would be some dramatic music.

"It's corrupt!" Sam shouts suddenly, and Dean has to clap his hands over his own mouth to keep him from telling Sam to shut the fuck up. "It's all wrong! It's not Lucifer's or a human's doing! It's right here! It's all right here and if you can't see that… If you can't see that, then you're part of it."

God, Sammy, shut up.

Anna puts all her focus on Sam now. "You, of all, would accuse us of betrayal?"

"You think this is what Jesus wanted?" Sam demands, righteous, standing as tall and firm as any angel would. "Look around you, Anna. War's been brought to Heaven."

Castiel shifts uneasily and Dean wants to brush up against him, to let their fingers touch, even for just a second. But he stays right where he is, thrumming with the need to move, to get right up in Anna's and Barachiel's faces and tell them where they can stick their bullshit orders.

Sam points again with his fingers, which, okay, Dean can take a hint.

Bank left as soon as you're through and keep going until you see the marble. That's what Sariel had said. That's where Sam's pointing. Left.

Castiel glances Dean's way and for a moment -- just one moment -- their eyes meet, and everything slots into place.

Rejoice, favored one, and do not fear, for your prayers are heard, and I have finally found you.

"GO!"

He's not sure who makes the first move, whether it's from their side or one of Heaven's, but someone lunges forward and stabs Barachiel in the chest. The reaction is immediate; as she explodes in a fit of light, Gabriel leads his garrison forward to clash with Heaven's forces.

It's complete chaos. Dean can barely see what's going on over the deafening sounds of weapons colliding and angels and demons killing each other. There are too many bodies, all fighting and writhing and trying to survive, crowding him and bumping into him and suffocating him. He thinks he catches sight of Bobby and Rose fighting back to back, Bobby with his angel-killing bullets and Rose awkwardly wielding her sword, but Dean isn't positive. They're swallowed up by the constant push of more souls.

There's an explosion of light so bright that he's blinded for a few seconds. The world narrows down to the sounds of death and screaming, and when he drops his arm from his eyes he can barely make out Sariel as she knocks Anna to the ground and stabs her through the throat.

"She's mine!" Sariel screams, yanking her blade out and bringing it down again, spattering her face with globs of glowing white, like blood. It's Grace. "She's mine! You had no right! She's mine!"

Becks is the one that pulls her away, leaving Anna dead and bleeding Grace everywhere.

Something seizes his wrist and spins him around, and he goes to lash out at his attacker before he sees messy hair and a face he's loved since birth.

"Get out of here, Dean!" Sam shouts, thrusting him away, blood dripping into his eyes. His left arm hangs uselessly at his side, but his right hand lifts his blade and turns away to jump back into the fray. "Go!"

Dean pants heavily, vomit rising in the back of his throat as Castiel suddenly appears in front of Sam to stop a demon from getting a blow in. Sam looks his way again.

"GO!"

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