Arrangements-verse Cutscene

[icarus_chained]

Okay. I seriously debated ever posting this. It's a POV flip for Big Damn Heroes showing the Sam-Dean-Cas-Zira end of things. It was going to be part of Grace but Gabriel sort of took over that part and it just ... didn't fit. Consequently it's ... not exactly in the best of shape. But I figured, what the hey, and it is part of the canon I've had in my head for their reactions.

So. Here's 1200 words of cut scene for those interested.

Assault

The first thing Sam had to admit, on landing at the factory Lucifer had apparently commandeered, was that, ridiculous though it looked to see his brother swinging a tire iron at demons, said tire iron was pretty damned effective. As good as the knife, with more range, and potentially less damaging to the hosts. Watching his brother's face as the second demon smoked out just from a thump on the arm, Sam could hear Dean naming it in his head. Could see it coming back to haunt him. The mighty Tire Iron of Demon Death, or something equally ridiculous.

The big grin on Dean's face sort of made it worth it, though.

The second thing he had to admit was that, weakened though he may be, with someone at his back that he could actually trust, Cas was a force to be reckoned with. He and Aziraphale took point straight away, leaving Sam and Dean to guard their backs and mop up flankers, and then proceeded to calmly and steadily mow their way through anything that got in their way. Guarding each other's backs allowed them to take the time to do it right, allowed them to be careful, use the flat of Aziraphale's sword and non-fatal stabs from Cas' blade so that the hosts had at least a chance of surviving. So that the human cost didn't have to be as high as it could have been, for the first time in a long, long time.

That ... that felt good. Five minutes in, seven demons down, five hosts already groaning awake, Sam thought they were doing pretty damn well.

It made him wonder, though. What Cas had been like with a garrison at his back, with his brothers at his side. It made him wonder what angels going to war looked like. It made him wonder ... how the hell anything had ever managed to stand in their way? How the hell anything could stand in their way, if the Host decided to take things up a notch? How anything could survive if angels embraced the Apocalypse full on?

Humanity, for example?

Then something happened up ahead, something screamed, and things got really weird, really quickly, and Sam had no time to be worrying about anything at all except what was in front of him.

The first roar had Aziraphale's head jerking up like a dog on point, shock and fear rolling across his features. Crowley, Sam thought, already moving to push ahead, to keep the angel from running. Except Aziraphale didn't. Instead, he shot a terrified look at Castiel, warning and desperation, and swung back to Sam. Swung back, reached out. Clapped a hand to the side of Sam's head and pulsed.

Sam almost dropped the knife with a cry, his ears ringing and his brain fogging as something heavy dropped over his thoughts. He watched Dean do the same as Cas copied whatever Aziraphale had done, watched the shocked anger flicker over his brother's face, the confusion. For a moment, they stared in baffled anger at the angels.

Then the second scream hit.

It hit him, crawled inside his head. Not just his ears but his mind, and Sam almost went to his knees, absurdly grateful for whatever protection he'd just gotten, because it hurt. It hurt. It felt like something trying to tear open his head, trying to reach inside, something loathsome, crawling, hungry. Something gnawing and terrible, something that hit him right around the base of his skull, right in the hindbrain, and made every instinct he had sit up and scream that he had to run, to get away, to run and run and run and run and run. To never stop. Only the presence of the two angels in front of him, a wind-break, a shield, kept him from scrambling to his feet and obeying.

Then the demons started coming. Running past. Crawling. Skittering. Two or three, then more. Seven. Ten. Fifteen. Some streaked with blood, some barely upright, one or two just crawling, scrabbling for purchase as they moved past the little group. Blind, panicked. One of them bumped right into Castiel, screeched in shock as the blade dug into her side, and just kept going. Not even attacking. Pulling herself off the blade like it didn't even register except as a hindrance, a barrier to stop her running. Moving, even as she smoked out, caught midstep as she dissipated, leaving the host to fall senseless behind her.

The demons ran. Ran or fell, and even falling tried to keep running. Like whatever was behind them was too terrible to contemplate, too fearsome to fight. Something primitive, primal, something Hell itself couldn't bear to look upon. Something that reduced demons to gibbering wrecks. Something that clawed around the edges of Sam's consciousness, like the cravings for blood, like that hunger, but alien, an outside force, reaching in. Something terrible.

And then, suddenly, minutes later ... it stopped. Cut off like it had never been. Silence rang out, deafening in the wake of that scream, and Sam felt his head drop onto his chest, light and dizzy, like an unbearable pressure had just been lifted. Panting, he looked sideways, and met his brother's wide, terrified eyes.

"What the ... What the flying fuck was that???" Dean gasped, pressing the heel of his hand to his head, pupils wide and blown. "Cas? What the hell?"

But neither angel answered. Neither answered, because as soon as the sound let up, as soon as the threat was gone ... Aziraphale took off at a dead run, full tilt towards the stairs at the end of the corridor, not even bothering to look back. Staring after him for a second, still dizzy, Sam thought it must have taken everything the angel had to make himself stand still even that long, because there was obviously no stopping him now. Something flashed behind Aziraphale's back, a hint of power and feathers, and his feet almost left the floor, barrelling ahead so fast he almost clipped the corner going by.

Castiel dithered, hovering anxiously over the two of them, but everything in him obviously strained after his brother. After Aziraphale.

Dean looked after them, then over at him. Shrugged. Staggering, they picked themselves up, and followed.

They caught up with Aziraphale at the door to the basement, a monolithic fucking thing made of steel that made Sam wonder what the hell they manufactured here anyway. Aziraphale had stopped, checked by its presence, bouncing on his feet frantically. He didn't even look back as they slid down the stairs into the corridor behind him.

He did, however, call out a warning as he swung his sword up over his shoulder, just in time for Cas to duck to avoid decapitation, just in time for them to stagger to a very abrupt stop, and then the thing was bursting with light and fire, lit up like a sun in the tiny space, and all three of them were throwing themselves back from him as he swung at the door.

Anyone who'd ever seen Star Wars could tell you what happened next. Lightsaber versus metal. Three guesses which wins. And Aziraphale had a very big lightsaber. The door sort of ... burst.

Then he was running again, and all they could do was follow him. Into the basement. Towards Crowley.

Towards Gabriel.