Rogue (Supernatural) [Rogue Trilogy] {1}

36. "I'm Proud of Us."

36. "I'm Proud of Us."

I'm an outsider when I get to the homeless encampment. I can smell the fires they make and the stench that clings to their bodies. Could be a natural scent. I'm armed with my batons, ready to defend myself from a mob of homeless that decide to defend Metatron.

Any eyes that find me, they step out of my way, like I'm some disease. Some who wander in my path scurry along, as though they fear they're my prey. Wake up soon, Sam. I might need you. I don't know what I'm going into.

I move through the encampment, my eyes focused on the warehouse behind it. That has to be where Metatron and Dean are. Metatron wouldn't be hiding amongst his loyal, duped subjects. At one point, my eyes linger on a blood spot on the ground. I don't think too much about it.

I find an open way into the warehouse, and I make everything go mute. My ears open, trying to listen for any subtle noises that will give me a direction. I sidestep, turning my back as I hear something. I breathe, realizing it's just a noise. I move on.

The deeper I creep into this warehouse, a frown etches onto my face. Do I have the wrong place? Am I too late? Did the fight happen and I missed it? Don't give up until you search every inch of this place. Feeling determined, I carefully scope out my surrounding area.

It's not until I hear something that I start heading in the noise's direction. I search more frantically now, looking for signs of a body, alive or dead. I don't want to hear screams of pain, but if I do, I want them to be Metatron's.

While I'm searching, my mind goes back briefly to Cas and Gadreel. How are they faring?

At hearing something that sounds like a body dropping to the floor, I trot towards the source. Behind what cover I have, I can just barely make out two figures. They have to be who I'm looking for. I peek around a corner, just catching a glimpse of a smaller figure and a taller one. The taller one is on the ground, the smaller one is on his wrist, probably talking to him.

Dean. Metatron. My grip tightens on my batons. Time to play hero.

"Hey, ass-hat!" I bellow, stepping from the shadows.

I don't like what I'm seeing. Metatron is beating Dean to a pulp. Dean, who is covered in his own blood, being wailed on by the Scribe of God.

Somehow, I get Metatron's attention. Boy, he sure like theatrics. Posing as one of the homeless to get on their side. God, does he look pathetic. Metatron hits Dean one more time before backing off.

"And who are you supposed to be, Buffy?"

I crack my neck. "I'm your worst fucking nightmare." I step under the dim lighting of the warehouse.

"That's supposed to scare me?" I want to punch that smirk right off his face. "What makes you think you're so tough?"

I dangle my batons at my sides. "I'm a Winchester. Hunting monsters like you is in my blood."

"Ooh, I'm so scared!"

"You really should be." And I charge for him.

Metatron doesn't shove me away like I expect with some angel juice. He lets me get to him, but he blocks one of my arms. I grit my teeth and kick him away. I have to keep him away from Dean. If I buy him enough time, Dean can end Metatron and end this whole angel civil war.

"You don't know what you're dealing with," Metatron hisses at me.

"Then show me!" I dare him, striking him across the face with a baton. I wish his head had come off with the swipe. "Don't make this easy!"