17. The Return of Metadouche

I'm the one who waits outside for Cas, Metatron, and Sam to return. I don't have weapons on me, but I have a very severe look etched into my face.

When Cas's yellow car pulls up, I feel anger boiling in my veins. He hasn't even stepped out of the car yet, and already I want to rip Metatron's throat out and watch as he bleeds to death on the ground.

I keep my composure as the boys escort Metatron out.

"Oh, a welcoming party!" Metatron laughs.

Keep it together, Jo. We need him right now. "Should've duct taped that mouth of his shut," I tell Sam and Cas. I look to my brother. "Get him inside."

"You're not coming with?" Metatron pouts.

"Oh, you'll be seeing me soon enough, Metadouche."

"Got quite a mouth on you yourself. A demon working with the Winchesters. The world's gone topsy-turvy!"

I chuckle. He has no idea who he's talking to.

As Sam shoves Metatron towards the bunker, I regroup with Cas. "Wasn't too big a hassle, was it?" I ask him.

"Not for us, no. For the angel who had to smuggle him out..."

I purse my lips. "You staying for the interrogation?"

"I would, but I have other priorities."

"Claire?"

Cas nods. "I'll be around soon, okay?"

I hug Cas tightly as goodbye before he climbs into his car and disappears down the road. Turning to the bunker and squaring my shoulders, I head back inside and for the dungeon. It's the only place that we can keep Metatron without him being able to escape easily.

I make a pit stop, though, to my room. I retrieve the angel blade that's stashed under my mattress. The last time I used this, I had slain an angel who was following a crazy angel anarchist. I should've used it in my fight against Metatron. I could have fared better.

The dungeon doors are open when I find the room. Metatron's got the spotlight on him, down in the chair I had once been in only hours ago. I enter the dungeon itself, standing beside Sam. Dean is nowhere to be found yet.

With a nod exchange, I close the dungeon doors.

"Oooh, theatrics!" Metatron says. He's having way too much fun with this. He looks around the plain walls. "Lovely room. It's where you bring the kinky chicks, am I right?" At this, he waggles his eyebrows at me. I swallow the bile back down.

"I'll ask the questions here," Sam says gruffly, putting chains around the angel in question. "You...Your only job is to provide information."

"Ah. Well, information does happen to be a specialty. Got about two billion fun facts up here." Metatron gestures to his temple. "Of course, whether I choose to cough one up or not is another matter."

"We need to know how to remove the Mark of Cain from Dean's arm," I say steely.

Metatron looks at us, incredulous. "What? He's back? Because of the Mark? So...he's a demon."

I frown. "No. Only demon in this place is me."

"Okay, what then?"

Sam and I exchange uneasy looks.

"What, did he 'kill a human' or something?" Metatron uses air quotes to emphasize his point. Then the realization crosses his face. "He's gone nuclear! Total, foaming at the mouth, balls-out maniac. Ah, ha ha—that's fantastic!"

"Do you know how to remove it?" Sam presses.

"Maybe. But here's the thing. You expect any help out of me, you keep that crazy brother of yours on a short leash. And keep her on the same." Metatron narrows his beady eyes at me. "I still can't figure out why you're here."

"Buddy, we don't give a flying rat's ass what happens to you," I say. "You killed our brother. In fact, you killed me too."

As if on cue, the dungeon doors creak open, and Dean makes his dramatic entrance in.

Metatron laughs nervously, looking at me. "Josette Winchester?"

"In the flesh, just not my own anymore." I cross my arms. "You stole that from me."

"So, it wasn't bad enough that one Winchester went demon, but two?"

I sneer. "It was all you, bucko. You made this. And you know what?" I flex a fist. "I kind of like the change. Makes me strong enough to throttle your ass." I smile sweetly. "Let's put it this way: you sing like the frightened canary that you are, and I won't have to let this situation get messy."

"Like your brothers are going to let you do that!" Metatron snickers.

"You'd be surprised." I sniff.

"If you think I'm going to be intimidated by you, then you're dumber than I thought. And I thought you were pretty dumb before, thinking you could beat me with those mediocre beating sticks you called weapons."

At this, I pull out the silver blade. "This look like a mediocre weapon to you?"

"Jo." Sam puts a hand on my arm. "Put it away."

I lick my lips in frustration, feeling the urge to lunge for Metatron, who's wearing a devious smirk on his lips. Straightening up, I put the blade back on the belt loop where it'd been before. Once Sam sees that I'm in control, he takes a perch on a table corner in the dungeon.

"Ain't life a bitch?" Metatron goes on. "Nebbishy little guy—me—always sticking it to the lunkhead jocks."

"You know what," Dean says, aggravated, "screw the Mark. I agree with Jo. Let's just kill him."

"Boy, he really is a mess. Who knew the Mark was so toxic? Well, actually, I did." Metatron looks at my older brother. "You know it's going to own you sooner than later."

"Yeah, so how do we get rid of it?" Sam asks.

"What, just like that, social hour's over?"

"Yes, and now we're moving on to our keynote speaker."

"Which is you," Dean takes over, "with us asking the questions. And me taking the personal pleasure of carving the answers out of you."

"Hey," I whine. "Do I not get a say in it? I didn't bring the blade just for show and tell!"

"Now, just—whoa, whoa, whoa," Metatron says quickly. "Hold on there, badasses! Lighten up! Why do you just assume I'm not gonna be helpful?"

"Because you're a dickwad," I say bluntly.

"But I'm your dickwad. I have a special place in my non-heart for you both, and yes, even you, Josette. You've grown on me. To which end—ta-da! I'd be tickled to help you pop this biblical zit. To do it, you are gonna need one specific thing. Your old bud—the First Blade."

"What?" Sam asks, as though he's at a loss for words.

I remember that Blade. I remember its animal jaw form. How it got lodged into Abaddon, a Knight of Hell, and killed her. I remember that the massacre at Randy's house didn't involve it, and Dean had gotten pretty brutal in there. What he would do with the First Blade in hand...

Metatron laughs at our bewildered expressions. "As I said, ain't life a bitch."

On that rather annoying note, we Winchesters step out of the dungeon, out of the room entirely.

"You've got to be kidding me," I say. "The thing that is surefire to get Dean powered up to a mega killing machine is part of the solution. We might as well throw Cain himself into the equation next!" I rub my face. "Metatron can't be serious about it. We can't trust him on it."

"If there's a chance that he's right, we need to take it, Jo," Dean says.

Sam looks at our older brother. "You're not seriously suggesting we go along with that, are you?"

Dean shrugs.

The three of us start walking for the bunker library.

"I'm sorry, but do you forget what you've done with that thing in your hand?" I ask in a high voice. "Reuniting you two is the worst thing to do, even it's part of the solution!"

"This is the single worst idea I've ever heard," Sam agrees. We're now in the library. "You just whacked a whole house full of people, and that's when the Blade was nowhere around. And you wanna be in actual contact with it?"

"We don't know that I have to be in contact with it," Dean insists. "All we know is that we need it."

"No, no, all we know is he says we need it," I clarify. "We don't even know what he wants us to do with it. This isn't much to go on to be believable."

"A step at a time, all right, you guys? We play it safe, we learn whatever the spell is, how it works, and we keep the Blade out of my hands." Dean pulls out his phone.

"Are you sure this isn't the Mark making you want the damn thing?" Sam asks our brother. "I mean, why would we trust anything Metatron says?"

"I don't trust Metatron."

"You don't tru—Then what?" I ask.

"What's his game if he is lying, okay? The Blade without me is useless. The Blade with me is trouble for him."

And to me, I think. I remember how Dean had been at Magnus's house, how he had looked as though he'd contemplated murdering Crowley with it. I'm not human anymore, I'm a demon. An ideal target to sink that First Blade into. I may be Dean's little sister, but if that Blade blinds him to that fact, I'm just a monster to him. Another creature to kill. Another monster to taste the First Blade in its skin.

"Well, if he's got a game, then what does he want?" I ask. Dean's got the phone to his ear.

"I don't know," Dean says. "But if we weren't willing to take a shot, then what was the point of bringing him here? Unless you got a better idea."

That's just it, though. Sam and I don't have a better idea. We know that Dean surely doesn't.

Unfortunately, the only thing we can do is play Metatron's game, whatever it's turning into.

**If you haven't already noticed, like Jo and the fandom, I really don't like Metatron.

Well, I mean, we all have our reasons to hate the winged s.o.b.**