8. "Marv"

Cas doesn't explain to me what's happened to him, even after we've settled back down into Sam's room. He's gone mute on me, for now. All I can do is wait it out and see when we'll talk again.

We're back to the same position as before: me against his side. This time, he's got his cheek against the top of my head, a hand rhythmically rubbing itself up and down one of my tattooed arms. My eyes are focused on the TV, but my mind is elsewhere. We've got a news broadcast on right now. There's a story—and footage—of a black dog riding a skateboard down a street. The usual fluff piece amongst all the crime and murder stories.

"Ah, that dog thinks it's people," says the newswoman. I snort. Some of these broadcasters look as though they've been factory-made. She now turns to the camera, the playful face gone, replaced by a serious mask. "Up next, a very upsetting story out of Omaha. A downtown bar fight escalated tragically last night. And OWW Two news brings you an exclusive video of the event. The footage you're about to view is extremely graphic."

Footage of a brawl in an alleyway follows the warning. People are yelling, and one of the two men pulls out a weapon, shooting the other opponent of the fight. The camera pulls back, and now a white van can be seen.

"Efforts were made to resuscitate the victim, but unfor—" The footage is paused, and I move my head up to look at Cas.

"Cas?" Silently, he moves away, towards the TV, remote in hand, leaving me on the bed in befuddlement. The program is rewound, and then it's paused. Curious, I get off the bed, joining Cas's side. "What is it?"

"The image in the mirror." Cas points to a part of the screen. Squinting my eyes, I look where he apparently sees something.

A flame of anger rises in me once I realize what exactly I'm staring at. I want to reach through the TV—as though that'll do anything—and pull him through and wring his weasel neck. He escaped Cas and I the last time we were with him.

"Metatron," I hiss. "Dean asked about Metadouche, right? Well, here's our lead." Clever, Cas. Clever. "I say we call the station and get info on him and sniff him out."

"I agree."

"Considering you were...almost comatose earlier, this is a surprise."

"This is Metatron, the same man who left us to die in the library. The same man who killed you and Dean."

"You don't need to give me reason to want to go after him, Cas. I still want to kill him, demon or not." I snort. "Looks like we've found the thing to liberate us from bunker fever."

* * *

Our investigation into Metatron, or "Marv" as he gave the network, gives us some good leads. We get an address, leading to Metatron's apartment. The place creeps me out, as the second I see bedbugs I want to bolt. Bugs in beds, no thank you. But, on the plus side, Cas and I have found the so-called Demon Tablet, the thing that held the key to closing the Gates of Hell forever.

I find a police scanner in the apartment, and then Cas comes up with the idea to use it to figure out where Metatron is going to be next. (We assume this is how he finds his stories.) When we find a lead that only Metatron would take, Cas and I set out from the apartment, into the night, to head off Metatron.

Before leaving the bunker, I made sure to take an angel blade with me. Not that I necessarily need it to kill Metatron, I just want him to feel the same pain that Dean and I felt when he shoved the blade through us. Although, I won't deny that I would enjoy bashing his head in with my batons too. The angel blade just felt more fitting for the occasion.

Cas and I walk alongside one another, scouring the alleyways. Metatron has to be close by. Cas pulls back on my arm when I almost walk past him. With a nod, he gestures to inside the alley. With a nod of acknowledgement, the two of us creep onto the scene in silence.

I frown in utter disgust. Metatron is stealing from a wounded, dying, bleeding man. How low can you get, Metadouche?

"You know, there was a time I could have brought you back from the brink with a snap of my fingers...Not that I would have," says Metatron. "But I'm not that guy anymore. I can't save you."

"I can," says Cas.

Metatron turns and jumps slightly—probably at the sight of me more than at the sight of Cas. I smile deviously in the ex-angel's direction. I remember distinctly that Metatron is as human as I am now. It won't take much to kill him. In fact, killing him will be much easier than ever before.

"How did you find me?" Metatron asks.

"Same way you found him," I say. "Scoured the police scanners, got ahead of the authorities."

I remain in place as Cas approaches Metatron and the dying man. He puts a hand on the man's chest. I notice Metatron putting his camera on the scene. The man's chest glows white.

"What was that?" he rasps.

Cas stands up, glaring at Metatron.

"What?" asks the ex-angel. "Look, a real-life angel caught on tape? That is way better than some random homicide." I cross to Metatron, swiping the camera from him. I make sure it gets sent to the ground and breaks. "Hey! Do you have any idea how much stuff I had to steal and then pawn to pay for that?!"

"Crap," I groan as I see the cop cars pulling up to the end of the alley. Metatron, Cas, and myself all flee the scene and the now-healed man before we can be accused at the wrong place at the wrong time. "You know, I already knew you were a douchebag, Metatron, but this? Stealing from the dying? You're just as bad as you were—wait, no, you're worse than the first time I met you!"

"Nice to see you too, Josette," Metatron huffs. We all stop running, and we've found ourselves at a loading dock. "I don't suppose you came along because your master told you to?"

"Actually, I'm the one who suggested this," I say haughtily. And the fact that you basically called me Cas's pet really pisses me off. "And believe me, have I got plans for you."

"Ah, so the demon homicidal tendency hasn't left you yet, huh?"

"Correction, the demon half of me is gone. The killer who wants you gone, she's still here." I smirk. "But, since apparently you pose as some use to us..." I kick out as Metatron, sending him off the loading dock and onto the floor below. "That's for everything you've ever done, you prick."

"Ah," Metatron hisses, grabbing his shoulder. "You're one rough bitch."

"Oh, you have no idea." I jump down from the loading dock, onto the floor. I hear Cas follow behind me.

"Okay...'Marv'..." Cas says in annoyance, flinging Metatron's hat at him. "You're picking pockets, leaving a man to die. I-I—I don't know what I expected, but this is disappointing."

"One to talk," Metatron mutters, rubbing his shoulder and upper arm. "You chose the life of a wage slave, slinging slurpees for, what, a month?" He gets to his feet. I snort. It's almost entertaining, how he thinks he can try and look intimidating with his height.

"Well, hey, it turned out pretty swell for him compared to where you are now," I say, twirling the angel blade nonchalantly. "At least he's not relying on scraps and theft to survive like you."

"I am in it to win it," Metatron hisses. "I was at zero when you took my Grace, hiding from angels, not a cent to my name. But I found my calling, and I pulled myself up by my bootstraps and started a business. And, you know, my story has only just begun."

"What story is that?" Cas asks. "You're preying like a vulture on human tragedy."

"Castiel! What century are you in? Religion is dead! The novel? Deader. You think I'm ashamed for dealing in fleeting visual sensation, in gift-length glimpses of horror, waste, and degradation?! No! I just caught up with the times. Reality is the great literature of our era, and I am out there, on the streets, every single night, capturing it! I am reality's author."

"Oh, save your story. It's not what we came for."

"Oh. So...straight to business. You want the Demon Tablet? Well, you're not gonna get it. I have hidden it very carefully in a place where you and your friends—"

Cas rolls his eyes. "You hid it," he pulls the Demon Tablet out from his trench coat, "under your mattress. The TV station gave us your address, and we checked the place out."

"You realize you have bedbugs?" I ask, nose wrinkling.

"You broke into my apartment?" Metatron asks, offended.

"Truthfully, it wasn't what we wanted to do." I shrug. "I wanted to burn that place when I saw the bedbugs."

"What do you know about the Darkness?" Cas asks Metatron. I look at him strangely. Darkness?

"The band?" Metatron asks. Cas takes a step towards him. "Okay. Uh...Sometimes during late-night writing sessions, when God was deep in his cups, he may have let slip a few choice words. But...I don't have to tell you anything."

"Are you forgetting?" Cas grabs Metatron by the collar and slams him into a cabinet. "You are human now, and I could crush you like a bug. I could let Josette torture you until you beg for her to end you."

"Could, but you won't. And neither will you, Josette. You think I didn't notice? You are broken, Castiel. Almost as broken as your girlfriend. You were always a bit of a Nancy, but this? You have gone full wuss."

"Don't listen to him, Cas," I say, feeling my grip on the angel blade tighten. "He's only trying to get into your head."

Cas drops his hands off of Metatron.

"I don't know what it was that happened, but whatever it was, you are scarred...deep, paralyzed by trauma, by fear." I step closer towards Metatron. "I mean, look at you. You can't even hit me!"

Cas hits Metatron before I can. He strikes the ex-angel in the face. "It's not fear," he says. Another punch, and now Metatron is thrown into a glass cabinet. Cas doesn't let him rest long; he punches Metatron a third time. "The Darkness—what do you know?"

"Okay. So I misjudged." Cas and I stalk towards Metatron, who's on the ground. "You're not scared. You're mad. And I get it. I mean, it must suck being everyone's tool, manipulated and used by angels, by your enemies," I kick Metatron in the stomach when he's halfway up, "by your friends."

"You little weasel," I snarl.

Metatron's standing at full height now. "You thought if you could get your Grace back, it would help fix you, but it hasn't!"

Cas strikes Metatron again before grabbing him by his collar. "The Darkness," he growls.

"Who do you have to thank for how angry you are, how lost?" When Cas punches Metatron again, he's sent into a workbench. His face is all puffy and bruised. He smiles. "You're welcome." Cas grabs Metatron, fist raised, poised to strike again. "Go on, Castiel. End me."

"Cas, if you can't, allow me," I say in a wobbly voice. "I've already spilled blood. His I'll be happy to do so."

But yet, I can't believe the words coming out of my mouth. I feel as though this is just an act for me, that when the time will come, all that anger and outrage towards Metatron will disappear, and my will to kill will go along with it.

I've killed people like Metatron: people who deserve it. But I've also killed innocents. People who were at the wrong place at the wrong time. People whose lives were shattered because I took it from them.

Cas's bloodied fist drops. "No."

"Oh, please, Castiel." Metatron is begging now? "Help me."

I snort. "You said you were happy, your 'bootstraps'."

"I was faking it. I mean, I thought, 'how—how hard could it be?' I can't take it anymore—not a single human day. I mean...the indignities—they just don't stop—make—making my rent and keeping my phone charged...Hemorrhoids."

I know what Metatron is trying to do: worm his way out of this. Cas and I exchange a look. Cas crouches down to Metatron's level.

"You were right, Metatron," Cas admits softly. "I am sick of having my strings pulled, which is why I won't let you manipulate me into letting you off easy. Tell me about the Darkness."

"The truth—ha—it'd make the Bible thumper heads explode. I mean, they want their God to be a-a f-finger-snapping, all-powerful creator, you know...And they want magic...Mary Poppins. But what he did—creation...that took work. Took sacrifice. In order to create the world, God had to give up the only thing he'd ever known. He had to betray and sacrifice his only kin. The Darkness...His sister."

"Wait...God has a freaking sister?" I ask. Now I know how the world feels when I'm introduced as Josette Winchester, the Winchester nobody seems to know about. "How do we know that you're telling the truth?"

"When it comes to God, I wouldn't lie."

"I don't know about that..." I sigh. "Cas, he's got to be pulling our leg here. There's no way that God has a sister that's this Darkness you keep wanting to know about."

"I...I think we might have to believe him on this one, Josette," Cas says softly, rising from his crouch. I look at him as though he's really lost his marbles. He looks down at Metatron. "Although, that doesn't give him a free pass."

"Well, I would hope not, after all that he's done." I sniff. "What do we do about him?"

"Well, neither of you have the balls to kill me," Metatron says. I glare at him. "Yes, even you don't. You've lost your killer instinct too. Must've lost it when you got the demon out of you."

"We can't just let him go, Cas," I insist.

"We can," he says. I look around in exasperation. "If he does anything, or tries to, Heaven will know. They'll handle him."

"Ah, so we're the least of his worries." I roll my tongue over my teeth. "Fine." I look at Metatron. "You better run off, weasel, before we change our minds. And don't worry, the next time we meet, I'll finish what he started."

"That's if you live long enough, Buffy."

Cas's gaze on me is the thing that allows Metatron to scurry away, bloody face and all, from us. I rub my forehead.

"Cas?"

"Yes?"

"I really hope we just didn't make a big mistake." 

**Metatron irks my very soul, like Umbridge. Those two together [cringes]**