I'll Tell You My Sins so You Can Sharpen Your Knife
The gods who you do not pay are the ones who can hurt you best.
Later that night, after Sarah ate some toast and three spoonfuls of soup, Dean carried her up to her bed and showed Sam to the guest room. When Dean returned, Sarah was fighting to stay awake. She watched him undress.
“What?” he asked.
She blinked a few times, pulling herself out of her thoughts, and rubbed her face. “Sorry. Not quite all here today.”
He slid under the covers next to her and let her rest on his chest.
“I missed you.” She whispered, closing her eyes. It was the first time she had admitted that, and she said the words with a knot of fear in her stomach.
“I missed you too.” Dean told her.
“Look on the nightstand.”
Dean looked over and saw a brown rawhide bracelet with a few types of straw wrapped around it. Curious, he picked it up.
“I have one too.” She said, holding up her wrist to show him. “And I’ll always have it on. It will create a dream link. Like that one time we talked, but a little more permanent. If you ever want to see me, you just have to put it on before bed.”
“Thanks.” He said, putting the band back. “That will help.”
“I hope I don’t get you sick.” She muttered, closing her eyes again.
“I’ll be fine. I’ll actually eat my soup.”
“Har har har.”
~*~
It was an uncharacteristically quiet day for Sarah. No phone calls. No clients. But she wasn’t sick anymore. She took advantage of the silence and made sauce, then read a book while waiting for it to simmer. Around noon, the door bell rang.
“Well,” Sarah muttered to herself, “so much for my uneventful day.”
The bell rang again, and she sighed and moved a little faster. She swung the door open and instantly recoiled. Angel. There was no mistaking his white glow.
“You know who I am.” He said.
She didn’t recognize him. He was short, probably shorter than Crowley, with unkept hair and days past a five o’clock shadow. Even after years of Crowley, somehow this angel was making her skin crawl.
“I know you’re an angel.” She said. “I know that most angels are worse news than demons. Especially lately with the civil war.”
“Except for your darling Castiel.”
“Can you blame me? He’s my guardian angel.”
“Witches don’t get guardian angels. At least, not on in my heaven and earth.”
Sarah smiled dryly. “Metatron. I do know who you are.”
“I’m assuming you won’t invite me in.” he said, crossing the threshold.
“Well, you know.” Sarah sighed, closing the door and following him into the living room. “How could I possibly pass up on the change to allow you to be rude?”
“Eloquent. More so than your boyfriend Thing One.” He sat comfortably in her armchair. “Do you have any wine?”
Sarah sat in the chair that Crowley usually occupied. It smelled slightly of sulfur. “None I’m willing to share.”
“Wou’re not going to ask why I’m here?”
“I’m sure an egotistical maniac like yourself is bound to tell me.”
“That’s a flaw in villains, not heroes.”
“I’m sorry. I’m still missing the part where you’re a hero.”
“Look, White Witch Sarah. Here’s the deal. You renounce your powers. Give them up. I’ll gladly facilitate in taking them away. They’ve only ever been a burden for you. In return, at the end of the day, Castiel lives. And if you’re really good, and you keep your nose clean, and Castiel does too, I’ll throw the Winchesters intothe bargain.”
Sarah sighed and shook her head. “You really have been drinking your own cool aid, haven’t you?”
“What?”
“Metatron, sweetie, I’m going to let you in on a little secret that all of us really big scary monsters know.” She leaned forward in her chair and smiled kindly. “The reason that God let all of the Alphas live at the beginning of time was because he was powerful enough to control them. And you aren’t. and that’s why you’re here. you don’t think you can control me, and I’m probably the least of your worries. So no, no deal. I’ll put my faith in Castiel.”
“He’s going to lose the war.”
Sarah smiled. “Who cares about the war? I care about things ending up the way they’re supposed to be. And I trust Castiel to make that happen one way or another.”
He stood. “Your loss.”
He vanished.
“Damn.” Sarah sighed. She’d have to fix all of the angel proofing now.
~*~
Dean and Sarah were curled up on the couch, watching Blood Sport.
“Chuck Norris is more badass.” Dean muttered.
“Look, Sam told me all about your cowboy fetish – “
“It’s not a fetish – “
“Jean-Claude Van Damme is a bigger badass. End of story.”
“No, not end of story.”
“Just watch the movie.”
Dean looked at the ceiling instead. There was fresh angel-proofing. “What’s that about?”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Metatron visited.”
“What?”
“Fucking power-hungry creep. Probably was the one to drive God off in the first place.”
“Why didn’t you trap him?”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Maybe because he showed up out of nowhere, making a flashy show of power just so he could offer me a deal that I wouldn’t take. Or maybe I just like to make life difficult for you, Dean.”
“Sorry.” He muttered.
Sarah caught sight of a red mark on his arm, just sticking out under his sleeve.
“What’s this?” Sarah asked, pushing up the sleeve. “Dean. What’s this?”
Dean looked down at his arm, at the Mark of Cain. She knew what it was. She knew exactly what it was.
“What have you done?” she asked, closing her eyes. “Dean. What have you done?”
“It’s so we can kill Abbadon.”
“I don’t care what it’s for.” She sounded somewhat hysterical. “You don’t understand the concequences of it. What it will do to you.”
“I can handle it.”
“It will turn you into a monster.”
“That’s rich, coming from you.”
Sarah shoved his arms away and stood, then simply walked out of the room. He had been so good lately. She wasn’t sure if it was the mark talking, trying to get her to fight, or if he really felt that way. It was probably a bit of both.
“Sarah!” Dean called, groaning as he stood and paused the movie. “Sarah! Come on. I didn’t mean that.”
“Yes you did.” She forcefully opened the fridge and took out a beer. “You always mean that.”
She opened the beer and lit a cigarette, looking out the kitchen window at the backyard. She didn’t even know what to say anymore. It was just becoming more and more screwed up.
“Sarah.” He muttered, wrapping his arms around her waist and letting his head hang over her shoulder. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”
She didn’t move.
He kissed her shoulder. “You’re less of a monster than most angels.”
Sarah cracked a smile at the irony.
“Come on, let’s go back to the movie.”
“What?” he asked.
She blinked a few times, pulling herself out of her thoughts, and rubbed her face. “Sorry. Not quite all here today.”
He slid under the covers next to her and let her rest on his chest.
“I missed you.” She whispered, closing her eyes. It was the first time she had admitted that, and she said the words with a knot of fear in her stomach.
“I missed you too.” Dean told her.
“Look on the nightstand.”
Dean looked over and saw a brown rawhide bracelet with a few types of straw wrapped around it. Curious, he picked it up.
“I have one too.” She said, holding up her wrist to show him. “And I’ll always have it on. It will create a dream link. Like that one time we talked, but a little more permanent. If you ever want to see me, you just have to put it on before bed.”
“Thanks.” He said, putting the band back. “That will help.”
“I hope I don’t get you sick.” She muttered, closing her eyes again.
“I’ll be fine. I’ll actually eat my soup.”
“Har har har.”
~*~
It was an uncharacteristically quiet day for Sarah. No phone calls. No clients. But she wasn’t sick anymore. She took advantage of the silence and made sauce, then read a book while waiting for it to simmer. Around noon, the door bell rang.
“Well,” Sarah muttered to herself, “so much for my uneventful day.”
The bell rang again, and she sighed and moved a little faster. She swung the door open and instantly recoiled. Angel. There was no mistaking his white glow.
“You know who I am.” He said.
She didn’t recognize him. He was short, probably shorter than Crowley, with unkept hair and days past a five o’clock shadow. Even after years of Crowley, somehow this angel was making her skin crawl.
“I know you’re an angel.” She said. “I know that most angels are worse news than demons. Especially lately with the civil war.”
“Except for your darling Castiel.”
“Can you blame me? He’s my guardian angel.”
“Witches don’t get guardian angels. At least, not on in my heaven and earth.”
Sarah smiled dryly. “Metatron. I do know who you are.”
“I’m assuming you won’t invite me in.” he said, crossing the threshold.
“Well, you know.” Sarah sighed, closing the door and following him into the living room. “How could I possibly pass up on the change to allow you to be rude?”
“Eloquent. More so than your boyfriend Thing One.” He sat comfortably in her armchair. “Do you have any wine?”
Sarah sat in the chair that Crowley usually occupied. It smelled slightly of sulfur. “None I’m willing to share.”
“Wou’re not going to ask why I’m here?”
“I’m sure an egotistical maniac like yourself is bound to tell me.”
“That’s a flaw in villains, not heroes.”
“I’m sorry. I’m still missing the part where you’re a hero.”
“Look, White Witch Sarah. Here’s the deal. You renounce your powers. Give them up. I’ll gladly facilitate in taking them away. They’ve only ever been a burden for you. In return, at the end of the day, Castiel lives. And if you’re really good, and you keep your nose clean, and Castiel does too, I’ll throw the Winchesters intothe bargain.”
Sarah sighed and shook her head. “You really have been drinking your own cool aid, haven’t you?”
“What?”
“Metatron, sweetie, I’m going to let you in on a little secret that all of us really big scary monsters know.” She leaned forward in her chair and smiled kindly. “The reason that God let all of the Alphas live at the beginning of time was because he was powerful enough to control them. And you aren’t. and that’s why you’re here. you don’t think you can control me, and I’m probably the least of your worries. So no, no deal. I’ll put my faith in Castiel.”
“He’s going to lose the war.”
Sarah smiled. “Who cares about the war? I care about things ending up the way they’re supposed to be. And I trust Castiel to make that happen one way or another.”
He stood. “Your loss.”
He vanished.
“Damn.” Sarah sighed. She’d have to fix all of the angel proofing now.
~*~
Dean and Sarah were curled up on the couch, watching Blood Sport.
“Chuck Norris is more badass.” Dean muttered.
“Look, Sam told me all about your cowboy fetish – “
“It’s not a fetish – “
“Jean-Claude Van Damme is a bigger badass. End of story.”
“No, not end of story.”
“Just watch the movie.”
Dean looked at the ceiling instead. There was fresh angel-proofing. “What’s that about?”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Metatron visited.”
“What?”
“Fucking power-hungry creep. Probably was the one to drive God off in the first place.”
“Why didn’t you trap him?”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Maybe because he showed up out of nowhere, making a flashy show of power just so he could offer me a deal that I wouldn’t take. Or maybe I just like to make life difficult for you, Dean.”
“Sorry.” He muttered.
Sarah caught sight of a red mark on his arm, just sticking out under his sleeve.
“What’s this?” Sarah asked, pushing up the sleeve. “Dean. What’s this?”
Dean looked down at his arm, at the Mark of Cain. She knew what it was. She knew exactly what it was.
“What have you done?” she asked, closing her eyes. “Dean. What have you done?”
“It’s so we can kill Abbadon.”
“I don’t care what it’s for.” She sounded somewhat hysterical. “You don’t understand the concequences of it. What it will do to you.”
“I can handle it.”
“It will turn you into a monster.”
“That’s rich, coming from you.”
Sarah shoved his arms away and stood, then simply walked out of the room. He had been so good lately. She wasn’t sure if it was the mark talking, trying to get her to fight, or if he really felt that way. It was probably a bit of both.
“Sarah!” Dean called, groaning as he stood and paused the movie. “Sarah! Come on. I didn’t mean that.”
“Yes you did.” She forcefully opened the fridge and took out a beer. “You always mean that.”
She opened the beer and lit a cigarette, looking out the kitchen window at the backyard. She didn’t even know what to say anymore. It was just becoming more and more screwed up.
“Sarah.” He muttered, wrapping his arms around her waist and letting his head hang over her shoulder. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”
She didn’t move.
He kissed her shoulder. “You’re less of a monster than most angels.”
Sarah cracked a smile at the irony.
“Come on, let’s go back to the movie.”