Title: We are Vagabonds

Characters: Castiel, Sam, Dean, Loki, mentions of Gabriel.

Word Count: 1153~

Rating: PG-13?

Notes: Can be blamed entirely on caffeine and sigridhr lj's '100 Ideas for your Inevitable Loki Fanfic', idea number 96: 'Loki joins Sam and Dean as a hunter. Castiel doesn't know what the fuck is going on anymore.' This is most likely a failed attempt at humour. Also, this is a post-apocalyptic AU. And there will probably be more instalments of this 'verse, because I'm way too into it. Title from 'Here I Dreamt I was an Architect' by the Decembrists.

Warning: Loki is his own warning.

Disclaimer: Characters and the like aren't mine, I just play with them.

Summary: Angels and Norse gods don't mix. Gabriel is the exception to this, rather than the rule.

Castiel should have expected it.

The world after the Apocalypse was a strange place, possibly because there shouldn't have been an after. Prophecy and Fate had carried the world this far… and now they were running on borrowed time. There was anarchy in Heaven.

It was an uncomfortable situation for an angel to find himself —itself —in.

The Host blamed the brothers. The brother's blamed the angels. Castiel blamed himself.

Everyone blamed Lucifer.

After becoming acquainted with the brothers Winchester and their particular brand of controlled chaos, Castiel had resigned himself to an existence of half-thought out plans, reacting to situations only as they arose and the utter incomprehensibility of human spontaneity. Dean said that the phrase was 'taking life as it comes' - both enlightening and singularly unhelpful advice.

He should have expected the unexpected, Dean and Sam's possible (probable) insanity and the universal conspiracy surrounding the family. They were a literal beacon to the forces of Chaos. That was his first clue.

Castiel should have expected it.

'It' in this context is entirely the Winchester's fault. Mostly Dean's.

Though Castiel still blames himself for his lack of foresight.

(Everyone blames Lucifer.)

Castiel is in Rome, or under it, to be more precise, when he calls the Winchesters.

Dean seems a touch relieved over the phone when he asks for their location. Castiel can't be sure, though. It's hard to judge a human's emotions without being able to see the flickers of shadow and light dancing across their soul.

He appears in the diner seconds later.

Pauses.

Frowns.

"Dean," Castiel says. "Why is there a Norse god at your table?"

Sam looks worried; Dean seems guilty. Castiel narrows his eyes.

"Cas, buddy, uh, would you mind easing up on the whole 'Kill Things Stance'?" Castiel does mind. He looms harder. Dean nods his head towards the third man at their table, talking around a mouthful of greasy burger. "This is Loki. He's a dick. Loki, this is Cas."

"Cas is Dean's angel," Sam pipes up, helpfully, as if the abomination wouldn't know an angel when he saw one.

The third man at Sam and Dean's table laughs. Both Winchesters seem at ease in his presence. Dean looks mortified. "He's not-"

"He so is, dude," Sam says.

Dean makes a noise like a drowning horse, and Loki and Sam share a look before bursting into peals of laughter.

Castiel can feel a vague throbbing at his temples.

His host's body must be experiencing a headache.

Loki, pale and lean with black hair that he's wearing slicked back from his sharp, angular face, smirks. "Pleasure to meet you, Cas."

Castiel pictures the Trickster as a red streak across the diner floor.

Loki's smirk turns into a grin.

Checking the brothers Winchester for any evidence of enchantment or injury takes a matter of seconds, though Castiel is thorough in his examination. Very thorough.

"...You are unharmed," he concludes, finally. He feels disappointed, and then guilty. He should not feel disappointment that his human friends are unharmed.

Dean makes a face at him. "Yeah, we're just peachy. Why would we be 'harmed'?"

"There is a Norse god at your table, Dean."

Dean makes another face at him. "So?"

Castiel should not feel disappointment that his human friends are unharmed.

"Pagan gods and angels don't really mix, Dean," Sam sighs, ever the more sensible of the two in these sorts of situations. "I knew this was a bad idea. You're the one who came up with it in the first place. Your ideas always suck."

"What about Gabriel?" Dean frowns. The brother's are staring at each other with intent, and neither notices Loki's flinch. Castiel does. The angel wonders how well the brothers know the Trickster. "He got on with them like a house on fire. Literally."

Sam snorts. "Witness protection changes you, I guess."

"He was much different than how I remembered him," Castiel intones, then pauses and reflects on the Archangel as he was in heaven. He had been Glorious, if not cursed with a pettiness and gift for transfiguration of one far below his station.

Raphael had made a particularly belligerent rainbow, Castiel remembers.

Dean and Sam are looking at him with interest. "Gabriel's sense of humour was well-suited to Tricking," he allows.

"Did he…?" Sam begins, but obviously can't bring himself to ask the question. His soul is alight with respect, curiosity and embarrassment.

Dean grins. "Gabe did pranks upstairs?"

"...Yes."

"Awesome."

Castiel feels that they are missing the salient point of this discussion.

Said salient point of discussion is slowly working his way through a stack of pancakes and playing Angry Birds on Sam's phone, distinctly unintimidated by the powerful celestial force of God's wrath standing not four feet away from him.

I hate Norse gods, Castiel thinks viciously. There may or may not have been expletives in there, somewhere.

"Dean," Castiel growls.

The elder Winchester looks up, confused, before his face clears and he looks sheepish. "Oh! Sorry, Cas," he slides over in the booth. "Sit yourself down."

Castiel, now himself confused, obliges him. "Thank you."

Loki looks up from his stack of pancakes, eyes glinting with amusement. Castiel regrets sitting. It puts him directly opposite the creature.

"Why are you here?" he asks the demi-god directly.

Loki shrugs, green eyes flashing with something that could be a warning. "It's a long story."

"I have the time."

Dean snorts derisively. "Oh, of course, nowyou have the time," Castiel opens his mouth to interrupt. "What? You're always going on about how you're too busy to hang out or, God fucking forbid, help us because it's bedlam up there on the mothership."

"We've been over this, Dean," Sam groans. "No blaspheming in front of the angel."

"Whatever, Sam."

Castiel supposes that Dean is right; he has neglected them. But Sam has a point. "I do not appreciate you calling Heaven the mothership, either, Dean."

"Uh, sorry, Cas. Still. We have a…" he trails off, and if Dean says the word 'deal', Castiel knows that he's going to destroy everything within five miles of this place with nothing but the force of his rage. "An understanding with Loki. Ain't that right, Lokes?"

The Trickster scowls and swallows a mouthful of syrup-drenched breakfast and taps at the phone's screen. "Don't call me that, mortal," he says absently, eyes glued to iPhone's glowing screen.

Dean sighs theatrically. "Again with the 'mortal' stuff," his expression turns sober. "Okay. Anyway, we have an understanding. All kosher."

Too many witnesses, Castiel reflects, sadly, thinking of the would-be god as red splashes across the floor and windows. Also, the brothers would likely be… displeased.

"You know that we're paranoid," Sam interjects. Castiel recognises the statement as true. "So when we say it's all good, trust us. We've learned our lesson. ...Lessons."

Against his better judgement, he does.

He just doesn't trust Loki.

"Okay," he says, finally. The humans look relieved. The Trickster has the audacity to look smug.

Castiel leaves, after that, returning to the dank ruins under the city of Rome. He wonders how the Winchesters came to an understanding with a capricious Norse deity, to trust him, no less- and then realises that there are some things he would rather not know.