Chapter 53: The Breaks

Hillary woke with a start. Her eyes took in the whole kitchen at once. Where were her boys? Gripped with panic, she leapt to her feet. Hillary scented the floor, but her boys' scent permeated the entire house.

Cats!

First she checked the front door, but it was closed. Their scents were here, of course, but before she crashed through the front window again maybe she should check the rest of the house. Hillary raced into the sitting room, but only Bobby was in there. He jumped when she skidded to stop beside him.

Not here.

Hillary ran up the stairs taking them two at a time, her weight making the steps creak with each leap. The door to her boys' room was open. Feet sliding on the wood floors, Hillary skidded into the door, slamming it against the wall. People in the beds jumped to their feet.

Her boys!

Barking joyously over having found them, Hillary jumped up and down and in circles. She raced around the room, so happy they were still here and had not left without her. When she found herself standing on one of the beds looking Food-boy in the eye, she froze. Oh, cats and kittens. She'd done it now, hadn't she?

Food-boy's face was stern as he approached her. Then, when he was close, he smiled. Food-boy threw his arms around her and hugged her, with her head over his shoulder. She sighed as he held her, his very touch telling her she could not be forgotten and would not be left behind. Hillary let her head fall down over his shoulder to rest on his back, the closest she could come to hugging him back without human arms.

"You crazy mutt," he muttered against her neck, "paranoid much?"

Food-boy leaned back, away from her, but his hands continued to rub through the fur on her neck and head. "What's the big idea, waking us up like that? Huh? We can't take a frigging nap?" He pulled away with a gentle slap against the side of her head. "Come on. Off the bed."

She stepped down slowly, knowing how much trouble she had to be in. Hillary held her head low as she peered up at Food-boy.

"Well, now that we're up, how about we look into those creepy angel hunters, Sam?" Food-boy turned to look at Book-boy.

"Sure, Dean." Book-boy shrugged. "The sooner the better, right?"

"Right," Bobby answered from the doorway. "And you two better be planning on taking that mutt with you when you leave. I'd hate to see what she'd do if you tried to leave her behind."

Food-boy laughed. "Leave her? Bobby, she's a Winchester. You know I don't leave family behind."

"Come on," Bobby waved them out of the bedroom. "Let's go check out my police scanner. If I'd been thinking, I would'a done that while the rest of you napped."

Hillary slowly followed Food-boy down the stairs. She heard Book-boy talking to Bobby behind her.

"Don't worry about it, Bobby. It's just been a heck of a day."

"Boy," Bobby replied, "you said it."

Michael stretched his neck from side to side, hearing it pop. It never did that before Dean faced him down. Ah well, another odd quirk he would have to learn to live with.

"I've heard," the demon smiled coldly at him. "Tried to take on a human and lost? Must be losing your touch, Michael," he taunted.

Michael ground his teeth together. He doubted he would be able to keep it together long enough for Ralph to do his thing.

"Easy, Mike," Ralph said, stepping between them. "I think you know Michael is one of the last of us you would want to take on."

The demon sneered. "Way I hear it, he's weak. After the human beat him, he's been falling down on the job."

Falling down on the job! A fresh surge of anger coursed through Mike. Joining Ralph on a hunt may have been a bad idea. He tried to maneuver around Ralph, but his friend knew him a little too well. Ralph kept between them, even going so far as holding one hand on Mike to keep him in place. But he could not help the growl escaping his throat or the anger which blazed in his eyes, which of course was exactly what the demon was going for.

"All we're after is a little information," Ralph said. His voice sounded calm, but Mike could hear the undercurrent of anger. "There's no need to get nasty."

The demon, wearing the skin of a male body builder, sneered at them. "Nasty? I wasn't being nasty. If I wanted to get nasty, I'd tell you all the talk about how much a certain archangel has changed, and the fact he's about one violation away from being busted down to join us."

The next thing happened so fast, Mike would never be sure exactly what had happened. All he did was blink, shocked even a demon would say something like that about him. When his eyes opened again, Ralph had the possessed human pinned against the outer wall of the bar. One hand was inside the human's mouth, drawing the demon out in the most painful way possible, while Ralph's eyes glowed with a rage Mike had not seen since before the time of Abraham.

"Ralph!" Alarmed, Mike wrapped one arm over Ralph's shoulder and across his chest. He pulled his friend back slowly, his other hand trying to force Ralph to release the demon before he killed the host in the process. "Easy, Ralph," he whispered. "We want information, remember?"

Ralph allowed Mike to pull him away and release the demon. Black demon smoke returned swiftly to the body-builder, who coughed and choked on the demon's return. Mike kept a tight hold on his old friend while the demon composed itself.

"What was that?" the demon gasped, one hand on its throat. "You can't do that. There are rules!"

Mike chuckled as he released Ralph. "Rules? Since when has your kind paid attention to the rules, other than to find ways of circumventing them? Look." He pressed a hand against the possessed man's chest. "All we want is a little information on your boss, what she's up to. Otherwise..." Mike shrugged. "We do it Ralph's way."

"Ralph?" Pitch-black eyes scoured first him and then Ralph. "What happened to you?"

Mike grinned at the demon's discomfort. "Winchester," he whispered and the demon scowled at him. "Not going to cooperate?" He glanced back at the other archangel. "Hear that, Ralph? Looks like we get to do it your way."

The demon tried to escape, but he and Ralph boxed it in.

"Really, Mike?" Ralph asked, one hand gathering up a fistful of the possessed body's shirt. "My way? Slow?"

Mike nodded, locking eyes with the demon. "Sure. Why not? I have a feeling that body is mostly dead anyway."

"There are rules," the demon repeated quickly. "You're breaking the rules."

"Us?" Mike asked innocently. "Two archangels? No, I don't think so. Are we breaking any rules Ralph? I mean, he did attack us first, right?"

Ralph's eyes still glowed with rage. "That's the way I see it."

Mike grabbed the poor man's jaw intending to wrench it open so Ralph could extract the demon.

"Winchester!" he shouted through Mike's hand. "She's after Sam Winchester!"

"Why?" Mike demanded, lifting the demon off its stolen feet and pinning it against the wall. "What would Lilith want with Sam?"

"Named by Azazel," he gasped, hanging on to Mike's wrists. "He's not a threat, it's just PR."

Mike ground his teeth together. "Ralph, that's not good enough, is it? Please tell me it's not."

"Nope." Ralph's hands joined his holding the demon to the wall. "We need her plans, or you're taking the route less traveled. Trust me, by the time we send you to Hell, you'll be glad to arrive."

Mike chuckled darkly. "Been a long time, Ralph. Sure you remember what to do?"

Ralph snorted. "I still have nightmares about last time, Mike. It doesn't mean I'm not ready to do it again."

The demon put both hands up. "She's in California, trying to figure out Azazel's master plan. Lilith needs to kill Sam Winchester to show she's officially in charge, since he was named to take over the legion. That's all I know, I swear!" He covered his face with his hands.

"Work for you?" Ralph asked, all hostility dropping from his face and voice.

"Yeah, I guess. But are we going to leave him here to report back?" Mike asked, curious.

Ralph's head tilted to one side, studying him curiously. "Of course. What better way to draw her out?"

Mike grinned at Ralph. "Dude, you're so good."

Ralph released the possessed man, who raced off into the night. "I must admit, I don't know if I can acclimate to being called 'dude.'"

"Sorry, Ralph," Mike said slowly, hating the thought of alienating his friend. "I'll try to watch it."

Ralph shrugged as the demon faded into the darkness. One hand grasped Mike's shoulder tightly. "If not, don't worry about it. We've survived worse than 'dude.'"

Mike wrapped a firm hand around Ralph's shoulder. "Do you have this kind of fun often? If so, maybe I need to tag along more."

"You scared me, Mike," Ralph said slowly. "Promise me you'll never scare me like that again, and I promise to take you along on all my hunts."

Mike shrugged. "Yeah, whatever."

Ralph released him with a shove. "Whatever? When did you turn into such a...a...."

"Jerk?" Mike grinned. "About the same time you turned into a -"

"Say it and no more meteor showers. I mean it, Mike," Ralph warned. "I'm not Sam Winchester."

Mike rolled his eyes. "Well, duh. If I wanted to hang out with him, would I be here?" He grimaced after the words hit the air. Well, no taking back this chick-flick moment, was there?

Ralph's shoulders and face relaxed as a small smile spread. "So you're saying you want to tag along?"

Mike shrugged again. "Can I help it if we make an awesome team?"

He felt a commanding tug. Eyes wide, Mike turned to Ralph. "Tell me you felt that."

Ralph nodded slowly. "Are we in trouble, Mike? I mean, we didn't really break any rules, did we?"

Mike took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. "Well, I guess we're about to find out. Let's rock."

Ralph groaned. "Is the vernacular really necessary?"

Mike glared at his best friend. "Yes. Now shut up and follow me."

Dean led the way down the street toward the hospital. From the police description, it sounded like they had Creepy Dude locked up in the mental ward. They were walking past a pool hall when Dean stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Dean?" Sam peered around suspiciously. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure," Dean replied slowly. "But I think we need to go inside." He felt a pressure to go in, more of a request than a command, one he could ignore. For some reason, Dean did not want to ignore it. As he entered the place, which was surprisingly well lit for a pool hall, he discovered he wanted to answer this call.

Dean allowed the feeling to guide him to a table in the center of the pool hall with Sam to his right and Hillary on his left. He paused before the table, which was set for a game. Mike and Ralph stood on the other side of the table with a man between them. The man looked like a young version of Dad, about Dean's age or maybe a couple of years younger, with Dad's messy hair and two day stubble. His eye color changed as Dean watched, flowing smoothly from a deep, rich brown to blue to green and back. When he smiled, Dean felt instantly at ease. The man motioned to the table.

Dean smiled back. "Who breaks?" he asked as turned to look over the selection of pool cues.

"Dean!" Sam hissed under his breath. "What's going on?"

"I'm playing pool, Sam," he replied, testing the balance of one of the cues. "What's it look like?"

"Who is that?" Sam demanded, crowding just a little too close.

Dean shrugged his brother off. "Dude, personal space." He jerked his head at Mike and Ralph. "Do you honestly think they'd be here if this was a demon? Besides, he doesn't look like a demon, so relax."

"Relax," Sam huffed, moving out of the way. "Yeah, right."

Hillary had planted her big body between him and the table when Dean turned around. Dean ran a hand over his dog's head. "Go sit by Sam, Hill. Everything is fine."

Her whine was loud, high pitched and displeased, but she sat next to Sam. Dean shrugged apologetically at the guy and the archangels.

"Whenever you're ready," he said. "Is this about the verdict from the trial?"

The young guy shook his head and waved for Dean to break. Dean nodded, lining up his shot. Two balls, both striped, went in. One of his better breaks. Dean grinned at his competition. "Were you planning on playing this game?"

The young guy grinned back, his eyes bright green and sparkling with amusement. He motioned for Dean to shoot again. Dean lined up another shot, sinking it easily.

"The council has made a decision, right?" he asked as he sunk another ball.

"Yes," Mike answered. "The trial is over. Both sides have been well represented."

Dean glanced up with a frown. "So what's the verdict? What happens to Sam?"

Mike and Ralph exchanged confused expressions. "Nothing," Mike replied with a shrug. "The trial is over. The opposing sides each argued their case. Nothing else happens. We have no domain over human will."

"Now they tell me," he mumbled, eying the table. "Couldn't mention that earlier, huh?" Dean was ready to gripe more, but a peaceful feeling enveloped him and he couldn't be upset with the archangels, even if it was warranted.

Relieved, Dean was able to focus completely on the game. Ball after ball dropped in smoothly, his hustling shots lacking the hustle and showing the skill. Once the table was clear of striped balls, Dean stood to the side.

"How about I rack and you break?" he asked.

The guy smiled again and nodded. Dean retrieved the balls and racked them up. He stood off to one side to watch the guy break. He received a brilliant smile before the cue ball cracked against the others, sending them knocking all over the table. Again, the guy was solids, but this time he had a chance. With stroke after stroke, the guy sunk every solid ball on the table. When the table was clear of solids, he looked Dean in the eye and grinned. Dean saw bright sunshine and heard Led Zepplin in that smile. He grinned back.

"Another round?" Dean asked. The guy racked the balls before motioning for Dean to break. This time, the game was far more challenging. It was a good break, but after sinking three balls he just flat out did not have a shot, so he did his best to make sure his opponent didn't either. Now it was the guy's turn.

The guy studied the table intently, scratching his jaw the same way Dad used to. Dean couldn't help but smile at the familiar gestures, feeling more at home around him the longer they played.

"Dean!" Sam hissed. Dean stepped back to see what his little brother wanted. "Doesn't this seem...weird?"

Dean shrugged, watching intently as the guy lined up another shot. It went in perfectly. He had some awesome pool skills. Unfortunately the cue ball fell in on the next shot. Well, it was unfortunate for him, not for Dean. With a cocky grin, Dean fished the white ball out. He walked around the table, picking a fresh shot. The best one he could find was tricky, but what was life without some challenge? Dean set the cue ball down and lined up his shot. With a swift thrust, Dean sent the cue ball ricocheting off one ball which banked off the side and careened into his target. The ball rolled toward the pocket, teetering on the edge precariously before falling in.

Dean let out the breath he had been holding. Great. Now all he had to do was find another shot. Easier said than done. As he studied the table, he wondered why they were even here if it wasn't about Sam and the trial.

"I take it Mike and Ralph are friends of yours?" Dean asked as he mentally made several shots. He picked the likeliest and moved around the table. Suddenly he realized the guy hadn't spoken yet. "Right?" he asked as he made sure to look at the guy.

The guy smiled his warm smile and nodded, and Dean noticed his smile was similar to Sam's. Dean nodded back, eying his shot. "They're good guys," he admitted. He pulled back his arm and sent the cue ball flying. Close, but no cigar.

Dean stood aside to let the guy take his shot. "So what are we doing here?" he asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

The guy looked up from his shot and winked at Mike. His attention returned to the table and his shot, which fell in with a sharp noise. He grinned at the shot, moving around to line up another. As he studied the table, the guy nodded to Mike.

Mike shuffled his feet, looking down, then at the ceiling, the table, his feet, anywhere but at Dean. Ralph gave Mike a disgusted look before stepping forward. "We're here to thank you."

Dean glanced around pool hall. It was empty expect for them. Odd. Hadn't there been other people when they came in? It was strange that he couldn't remember.

"Thank him for what?" Sam demanded over Dean's shoulder. Dean resisted groaning at Sam's overprotectiveness.

"For Mike," Ralph said. He reached back to pull Mike forward a step. "He had been growing cold and distant, dissociating himself from the humans we protect."

"Really, Mike?" Dean asked, surprised and still curious.

The guy tapped his cue on the edge of the table. He didn't have a shot, so it was Dean's turn. It looked like he had taken great care to make certain Dean didn't have a good shot either. Dean walked all around the table trying to find something better than the guaranteed miss he'd already spotted.

"C'mon, Mike. You couldn't have been that bad," Dean said, squatting down to eyeball a potential shot.

"Please, Dean," Sam snapped. "No offense, Mike, but we did know you before. Dean, you know he was that bad."

Dean chewed his lower lip before shrugging and resting his cue on his left hand. Deft hands, skilled from thousands of hours spent in places like this, sent the balls ricocheting across the table. No balls went in, but he managed to screw up any plans the other guy might have had. Pleased, Dean stood aside.

"What are you, their boss?" he asked, making sure to watch for an answer.

The guy nodded, his brow furrowing as he studied the table. Yep, Dean silently congratulated himself on screwing up the guy's plans. Then the guy's face smoothed and he took a shot, which slammed perfectly into a corner pocket.

This guy was really good.

"Nice," he admitted with a certain amount of awe. "I have a feeling I can sit down, huh?"

The guy smiled and winked, and Dean could hear the Zepplin music again. He grinned as he watched a master of the game, a man who was truly an artist, clear the table of his balls.

"Really nice," Dean said with a nod as he held out his hand.

The guy tossed his cue on the table, his head tilting to one side.

"How's your back?" Mike asked.

"Oh, uh, not bad," Dean said, hand dropping to his side. "Ralph just took out the bone splinter yesterday, so I can't say for sure, but so far it's awesome by comparison."

Mike glanced at the guy before his gaze fell on Dean again. "That's as much repair as we're allowed to do," he told Dean. "We'd like to heal your back completely, but this way you shouldn't experience the phantom pains, or spasms, or whatever it was. Besides, he's afraid if you feel too good you'll start pulling risky crap again when you're hunting."

"Hey!" Dean snapped. "What risky crap?" he demanded.

Three sets of eyes bored into him, Sam's, Mike's and the guy's.

"Dean!" Sam hissed, eyes wide and his head nodding at the guy.

Dean rolled his eyes, resting his cue against the table. "Yeah, whatever," he mumbled, still grating from being told he used to take too many risks. He heard enough of that crap from Sam.

Then the guy walked up to him, right into his personal space. They were so close Dean could smell earthy soil mixed with the heavy fragrances of roses and wild flowers, so he was either a gardener or wearing some weird cologne. At first it shocked Dean to have some strange guy standing so close, but the closer he was the more Dean felt it was okay. Then the guy did something really weird, weirder than his cologne. He took Dean's face in his hands, which were covered with rough calluses from hard work but moved so gently that the rough spots flowed like silk over his skin. The guy tilted Dean's head down and kissed his forehead. Kissed him!

With another blinding smile, the guy stepped back. He was enveloped in white light, too bright to look at. Dean flung his arms up in defense. He could feel the white light flooding the pool hall, spilling out into the street. When it faded, he lowered his arms slowly. Mike and Ralph still stood with Sam, Hillary between him and the archangels, as usual. The guy was gone and there were other people in the pool hall drinking, talking, shooting pool.

Feeling distinctly unsettled, Dean looked to Mike for an answer. Mike shook his head. "We're hunting demons," he said. "Let me know if you need any help with that cult." With a wave, both angels disappeared.

"Sam?" Dean asked. His brother turned him toward the exit, an arm slung over his shoulders. "What was that?"

"That?" Sam said in a low voice as they made their way through the pool hall. "That was, without a doubt, the most awesome thing that ever happened. Ever. In the history of the world."

Dean glanced at his little brother. "Euphoria?" he asked.

Sam shook his head with a wide grin. "Dude, remember when you told me that cult thinks you were blessed by an archangel and that's why they took you?"

Dean nodded slowly.

"Well, they're really going to want you now." Sam's arm around his shoulders squeezed tight. "Totally awesome."

Dean stopped in the sidewalk outside to stare at his brother. "No way. You're not serious. That wasn't... It couldn't have been... No way. Not for me!"

"Why not for you, Dean?" Sam demanded. "After the way you took Mike down a peg and humanized a freaking uppity archangel, well two of them, really. He came personally to say thank you, and play you at pool. Dean, I knew you were good, but I never thought you were that good."

"What? Why not?" he asked defensively.

"Dude, you can't beat the laws of physics, so you certainly can't beat the creator of the laws of physics," Sam replied with the stupid grin on his face. "But it was awesome."

Stunned, Dean could only let Sam guide him down the street. When he passed a storefront with a large window, he managed to catch his reflection in it. Dean thought he still looked the same. Probably. He hoped.

Wow. Maybe... Maybe he was doing a decent job. With a long look at his cured baby brother and the happy dog at their side, Dean came to a startling realization. Maybe he had earned this.

The End.

A/N: I do realize I've left a few plot lines hanging, such as what happens with the creepy cult. I may address that in a sequel, I haven't decided for sure yet. But it lends itself to a full story, not just a couple of chapters and I think this sucker is long enough. I'd like to get back to another fic I've left hanging incomplete for a while (Life With Dean) and maybe decide where it's going.

Once again I'd like to thank everyone who has been following this monster of a fic and stuck it out with me over the past year/year and a half. Also through this fic I've had the privilege of meeting and working with the most awesome editor and theological advisor – charis-kalos!! There is a book of essays based on Supernatural coming out called "In The Hunt", and she has a piece included so please keep an eye out for it, it should be for sale soon.