Short Stories and Oneshots

Wayward Welcome

Author: wintergreen825 

Platform: FanFiction.net

Type: Harry Potter x Supernatural

Who should Team Free Will run into when they go to Detroit to confront Lucifer but none other than the Master of Death out to avenge a murdered archangel trickster?

~

"You take care of these guys, okay," Sam told Castiel. It was just something to say while he shook the hand of the angel (or maybe human now, since Sammy was right about angels not sleeping). Castiel gave that frown he always did when he thought that whatever Dean was asking was too much. Dean couldn't hear it from his place beside the Impala's trunk, but he would be willing to bet dollars to doughnuts that Castiel did the huffy sigh, too.

"That's not possible."

"Then humor me," Sam replied after a mirthless chuckle. Castiel looked a bit like someone had whacked him aside the back of the head as the social expectation hit him. Dean reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, already knowing that Castiel was probably going to say the thing. Saying it aloud always ruined the intended feel-good effect.

"Oh, I was supposed to lie." And there it was. "Uh, sure. They'll be fine. I-"

"Just stop," Sam said, interrupting Castiel's ramble with a pained expression. "Just stop...talking."

Castiel looked over at Dean helplessly. Poor guy looked uncomfortable as all get out, not that Dean blamed him. Goodbyes were tough, even without knowing that someone was essentially planning to off himself. Yeah, it was to save the world, but that didn't take away the instinct to scream in denial and lock him up somewhere that no harm could come to him. Dean might not want to acknowledge it more than he had to, but Castiel did understand him better than probably anyone ever did, even Sam and Bobby.

Then Sam finished with Castiel and turned towards Dean.

Dean was quiet as Sam closed the physical distance between them. Yet still it felt like he was slipping further away from Dean, leaving him behind as surely as he did when he ran away to Stanford. Dean forced himself to look away and focus on opening the trunk as a distraction. The stench of the demon blood wafts out into the open air, overpowering the scent of wet garbage of the alley.

"Who's that?" Bobby asked suddenly.

Dean looked away from the Impala towards the other end of the alley they had parked. Standing in the pool of light marking the split between the alley and the street was a short Indian woman. She was dressed in crimson kurta that was split up the side of her legs as well as a short, inverted vee in front to reveal the black pants she wore underneath it. Along the hems, there were intertwined cobras embroidered in bright orange and pure white. Her ink-black hair was pulled back into a severe bun, except for a few defiant curls that had escaped to lay against her tan cheeks.

She was walking right towards them, giving them a clear view of her face. An odd scar, shaped almost like a lightning bolt, cut palely through her forehead. The blinking neon sign hanging from the side of one of the buildings lit up her face just long enough to reveal the unnatural green of her eyes. Beside him, Sam gasped in surprise. The woman smiled toothily at them, continuing to move towards them with the same fluid grace as the snakes on her clothing. She was beautiful in the same way that fire was.

Some animal instinct in the back of his brain screamed at him that he was looking at something far more dangerous than anything he had ever faced before, except for one distinct occasion.

Not even a pagan god had anything the primordial might of Death himself.

"Hello, boys," she greeted as soon as she was near. She had an accent that was similar to Crowley's except for having posher edges, more British sounding than Crowley's Scottish brogue. Her green eyes moved over each of them, assessing in the same way that a predator might. They lingered on Castiel. Something stupidly defensive tenses within Dean. "And angel. Castiel, I presume?"