Angels and Demons

He thought for a moment as he tied together Cornyx's wrists. "I doubt anyone would notice, but angels have a major weakness for Living on a Prayer. If the music starts playing, they just have to sing along. Some dance along, too, but it's up to you."

He finished tying the knot, giving it one last tug to make sure it was secure - or, at least, looked secure. He didn't want to tie it too tightly in case he needed Cornyx's help if a fight broke out.

He patted the ropes, then turned his attention back to the building.

"They might also try touching you with what most supernatural people call unholy water. Some of it is water that's had a reverse holy water spell chanted over it. That'll hurt like hell, according to the angels I've used it on. Demonic fluids - blood, saliva, urine - will give you a weird tingling feeling, but that's about it."

Most of that made sense enough. What got Cornyx, however, was when Dean said that he'd have to dance and sing to the Bon Jovi classic. He seemed perfectly serious when he said it but he wouldn't put it past Dean to say something like that just to screw with him.

"Are you joking?" he asked, trying to put his finger on it. "If they play that song I'm going to have to sing and dance?"

He gave Cornyx a look.

"I'm dead serious," he confirmed. In retrospect, he could see why Cornyx thought he was possibly trying to pull his leg, but he was being entirely honest. It was just one of those weird rules of the universe that no one questioned. "You won't have to dance, but you do need to at least sing it quietly under your breath."

His frown deepened. "I do not sing."

Engel looked up, listening to the conversation, but only now deciding to engage. He put his fist to his chest. "Just make sure the voice comes from down here, kid, even if you're off-key it'll sound better." He winked.

Cornyx almost protested at being called 'kid,' then decided it wasn't worth it and merely shrugged it off, turning back to Dean. "Fine. I'll sing. But if this is one of your jokes, I will not be amused." He knew it didn't mean much and there really wasn't anything he could do about it but he still felt the need to make it clear that it wasn't funny in any sense.

Rose leaned against a tree, watching and listening. What a mess. What she really wanted to know, was who did this? Who put them in that church? Who, or what, had changed their forms?

James listened silently as the plan unfolded. He was not opposed to it, but he was betting on something going wrong, and them having to go in for a rescue or having to flee quickly. He didn’t want to think of the various ways that could play out based on the inevitable reactions of the other members of their group. Were sone of them more inclined to violence, it could only get messy.

Dean seemed to have a cool head on his shoulders, and was the most familiar with the world they’d all been brought into. That put him at an advantage. He couldn’t speak for either Dean or Cornyx’s character, but their logic was sound enough.

He did suspect, however, that them splitting up could have to do with what Boris wanted to talk to him about. Boris and Cornyx’s conversation - though he only saw it and didn’t overhear - had not escaped his notice.

He sighed.

If the people were superstitious and likely to be hostile to demons and angels alike, he didn’t know how useful they would be. But seeing as they still had nothing to lead their search for answers, it was better than nothing. Or at least, he hoped it would be.

“How long should we wait for you?” James asked. “We can fall back into the forest to make sure we remain undetected until you two return. But in the even that things don’t go smoothly we need to know if and when to intervene.”

"I'd say that it's probably better not to intervene at all," he said. "Fighting through that will be next to impossible and if we can't handle ourselves, there's little hope for anyone to be able to help us. If we're outed or captured then they'll be even more suspicious of any more of us going in. I think making contact some time in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours seems reasonable. If we don't, then I'd say moving on without us wouldn't be out of the question. We have means of tracking you anyways."

James slowly nodded. “Alright then. We’ll remain here - a little further back, where the cover of the forest is thicker - and wait for your return. I sincerely hope you are back by this time tomorrow.”

Dean doubted they would be gone for that long. Even though he wasn't willing to test his immortality, something told him he didn't have to worry. The immortals of the world could get quite creative when captured - a lost limb or two could always regenerate, and no amount of torture ever really hurt after all the sparring they were used to doing.

He waited until activity seemed to die down outside of the building, then grabbed onto Cornyx and started to casually walk over. Running in was a good way to insure that they didn't get attacked on the way in, but once inside he knew that tactic would only make things worst. Luckily, no one seemed to be loitering outside.

He pushed open the door with his free hand.

And, almost immediately, he found every gun in the room pointed at his face.

Why did hunters have to be so frustratingly predictable?

"You can put your guns down," he said. No one did. He had doubted that would work, but he thought he'd at least try. "It's me, Dean. Dean Summers. I'm not possessed by a demon - I was tracking down this guy-" Here he gave Cornyx a hard shove, both to add to the act and because it was just too darn satisfying. "-and got turned into this. You can run all the tests on me that you want, but of course demons don't look like this-"

The chorus of "christo" and the equivalent of bucketfuls of holy water being thrown at his face made him further lose his faith in humanity.

When they realized he was telling the truth, the hunters all resumed their meals and discussions. That wouldn't help; he needed to get information from them, and he didn't trust any of them enough to go up and start a conversation. He needed to find a person with answers.

He cleared his throat.

A few heads turned back to look at him.

"I'm trying to figure out what made me look like this," he said. "And my angelic friend right here isn't exactly being the most helpful. Anyone want to help a fellow hunter out?"

No one came over. Dean withheld the urge to groan; of course they'd all think that this was outside their nonexistent pay grade-

"I might be able to help," a voice said from nearby.

Dean turned to see an unfamiliar woman leaning up against the bar, light brown hair thrown back in a ponytail. She had a pair of glasses on - their glass thick and shape square - and her outfit looked liked something straight out of Supernatural: a flannel shirt, jeans and a pair of combat boots. A wooden cross hung around her neck, and her ears were pierced with tiny studs.

She straightened and walked over to them. "I'll go get us a table to chat at," she said, giving the two of them a smile before heading back over to the bar. She chatted with the bartender for a few moments, then started to lead them to a table in the back of the room as a song started playing throughout the bar.

Dean recognized the opening beats in an instant.

It was Living on a Prayer.

"I've always loved this song," the woman said, giving them a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Rose followed the rest back into the woods. Contrary to what everyone thought, it was the hunters who were outnumbered. If it came down to it, she herself was worth two people, at least, and besides, the trees could be talked into fighting. She decided that this wouldn't be the best to announce this, especially given the mood James was in. She sat down on a big root and leaned into the tree. She had a really, really bad feeling about this whole idea. Her brand sent another throb up her arm. She pulled back her sleeve and looked at it. It had grown bigger. She pulled her sleeve back down and pulled an apple out of her pocket. She cut it into several slices with a knife.

"I have some apple here if anyone is hungry." She said, eating one herself.

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Cornyx shot Dean a pointed look, disliking this entire situation, but began swaying with the music and humming it under his breath anyways. His fingers began to air-play the bass line and his foot started to tap the floor as the drums came in.

As the song picked up and the vocalist's voice spoke for the first time, Cornyx lipsynced it, giving Dean and the woman what seemed to be an apologetic look, though he was shooting mental daggers at the former.

When the lyrics truly began, the King of Hell opened his mouth and sang, beginning to actually dance. His feet twisted about each other in the complex improvisation.

Then the chorus hit.

Cornyx leapt up on the nearest table and started aggressively air-guitaring (which was somewhat held back by his tied hands) and mouthing apologies to the people there, shrugging as he sung to point out he couldn't really control it but he was sorry for getting in the way of their meals. He did, however, manage to dance around their plates, and when the verse hit again he hopped off and resumed jamming in the ground.

What seemed like an eternity later - and after the headbanging, ridiculous dance that had steps ranging from ballroom to hip-hop, and aggressive air-guitaring, Cornyx went back to humming the last few notes and returned to his place next to Dean. He mumbled and awkward apology that pretty well mirrored how he felt.

"It's just, the song," he said quietly, tripping over his words. On purpose. Of course. "Can't help it, angel thing. S-sorry."

"Could I have one?" Aquarius hesitantly asked, going over to where Rose was sitting. Zephyrus followed him over; he trusted Rose, but he also wasn't going to let Rius out of his sight when surrounded by so many dangerous people.


Relief flooded him when he saw how Cornyx acted. It was such an angel thing to do. The dramatic dancing and singing were perfect, and not a single person spared them a second glance after he finished his performance. Only the hunter who was leading them to a back table kept her gaze on him, but even she seemed slightly less suspicious than before. She gestured for them to sit down. Dean got into one seat and helped Cornyx in the other, trying - and failing - to avoid getting smacked by his wings in the process.

The woman slid into the seat across from him.

The menus were little more than sheets of printed paper with a handful of simple meals listed: burgers, hot dogs, chicken tenders and the occasional hot dog. Not the most alluring thing, but hunters loved to be grim and dreary. She handed him a copy of the menu with an absentminded look as she glanced at the other people in the establishment. Then she went to hand Cornyx one, but her fingers slipped ever so slightly. If Dean didn't have fairly good reflexes and attention span, he might have missed it. A small drop of blood began to form where the paper had cut into skin, and that droplet was transferred from her thumb to Cornyx's hand when she placed the menu down in front of them.

He grabbed a napkin from the dispenser and handed it to her.

"Thanks," she said, dabbing at the mini-wound. "I hate when that happens."

Rose scooted over some so that Aquarius and his friend could sit down. "Help yourself." She said, smiling at them. She trusted Aquarius and liked him. Everyone else was so...Hostile and violent, on a whim.
"I have some bread and cheese to. I'm afraid that's it though."

The tree she was sitting under rustled and an acorn dropped on her head. She looked up at it.
"Hey!"

His initial inclination was to just straight up lick the blood off, partly for the sass but mostly just because he was demonic and that's what his instinct told him to do. He knew quite well that it wasn't a very angelic thing to do, however, so instead he merely wiped it off.

"Are you alright, miss?" he inquired.

"It's okay," Aquarius said, giving her a small smile. He sat down beside her, Zephyrus following suit a few moments later. "Could I have some of it for me and my brother?"


The woman stopped dabbing at her wound.

"I'm fine," she said, giving another smile that didn't meet her eyes. Now Dean was beginning to grow suspicious; the combination of her cutting her finger and then giving a smile like that just didn't sit right with him. When a waiter came over a few seconds later and filled up their glasses with water - holy, of course - she spun the little straw around with a certain look to her face. Yet she didn't drink a single drop of it. She just kept stirring and stirring and stirring, her gaze never leaving his face.

Dam-

"Christo," he muttered.

Her eyes turned black.

"You were trying to see if he'd react to your blood," he whispered.

The demon smiled. "Bingo."

He sighed. "What's your name, then?"

"Well," the demon, stopping the stirring as she rested her head in her hands, "I suppose Jo works well right now. Wouldn't it, Dean? I'm surprised your little brother isn't with you. Is your Sammy stuck with angel wings?"

The comment made his blood run cold.

His hands curled into fists underneath the table, and it took all of his self control not to go lunging at her. "What do you want with my brother, Jo?" he asked. The name was as fake as his own, and he knew that it was meant to be a dig at how his was clearly from Supernatural.

She pushed up her glasses. "Just checking. It really is you, isn't it?"

He hesitated. "Why wouldn't it be?"

She gestured over at Cornyx. "Because he's not actually an angel, and anyone that's ever met one can tell that a mile away." When he continued to give her a look, she sighed and threw herself back in her chair. "Dean, it's me. Real life Team Free Will member, though my name's a bit of a touchy subject right now."

He glanced at the demon's soul, and understanding quickly dawned on him.

"Nice one, Gabriel," he whispered, making sure his voice was low enough so no one but Cornyx and the demon could hear him. "I didn't realize it was you."

"That's what I'm hoping for," he cheerfully said, his voice just as quiet. "We might have gotten into fight with some of the hunters here last week over the safety of some werewolf pups, so we're trying to lie low for a bit. So who's your friend?"

The smile on his face faded. "He's not a friend."