Family Don’t End in Blood!
A Skye Holiday Alternate Universe
OOC: A Silly Late-night JP between @Winters, @MK Blitzen @Yule where we altered the Verse ENTIRELY!
Special thanks to Mark Sheppard who is awesome in every role he plays, and is blissfully unaware of his cameo in this AU.
“All right,” Cyd said, running a hand through her shaggy hair. Her free hand pressed the flip phone tightly to her ear so she could hear over the radio Mat refused to turn down. “Yeah. Uh-huh. Thanks, Bobby, keep us posted. Mat? He’s… fine,” She side-eyed Mathias who sat in the Impala’s driver’s seat, eyes focused on the road, focused on their next job, too focused, but that was him, feast or famine. Her big brother, hell-bent on saving the world. Ever since he came back from hell… again, all he seemed to care about was the job, watching out for his pain-in-the-ass kid sister, Baby, and Cheeseburgers. So essentially the same as always. “I’ll make sure of it. Thanks again.” She closed the flip phone and slid it into the pocket of her jeans. “So get this,” she said, turning to her brother who sat across from her on the car’s bench seat. She crinkled her nose and had her hand slapped as she went to turn down the radio.
Mathias who hadn't paid attention to a single word as his fingers tapped in time to the music blaring on the car radio. " … Dirty Deeds … done dirt cheap …" heard as the chorus kicked. " … what?" He asked, noting the look he was getting. "Oh come on, it's a good song!" Mathias defended.
“Yeah, maybe in the ’70s. I swear, Mat, you gotta update your cassette collection. For one thing? It’s a cassette collection.”
"This Is why the driver picks the music," Mathias muttered indignantly. "It's vintage okay!"
“Right. Well, Bobby doesn’t think that this is just your run-of-the-mill reaper, he thinks – are you listening to me?”
" … Concrete shoes, cyanide, TNT, Done dirt cheap …" Mathias sang loudly. " … arrite arrite … Bobby … the not but still crossroads demon. See I was paying attention!"
Cyd scowled. “C’mon, man, this is serious. There - up ahead, take that left.”
Just then, Isaac peeked his head in between the siblings from the back seat. "Cyd. Mat." He said very matter-of-factly, his voice low and gravelly and his expression calm. "Sup?"
"SON OF BITCH!" Mathias yelled as the car swerved missing the turn. He was pretty sure his soul momentarily separated from his body. "How many times have I told you not to do that Issac!?"
"Sixty-seven." Isaac responded plainly.
"You think it would have sunk in by now?!" He said irritated. "The hell is wrong with your voice?"
"I...thought it'd make me sound cool…" Isaac said, sounding hurt as he dejectedly rested his chin on the seatback.
“Dude! You missed the turn!” Cyd grumbled, pointing towards the turnoff. “We’re on a bit of a time crunch here.”
"Both of you just … " Mathais grumbled in frustration, turning up the music before using the turn off to get turned around. "You stop popping in my car like you own it!" Mathias reprimanded the Angel through the rear rearview mirror. "And you … quit backseat driving!" he groused as his sister.
"She's not in the back seat." Isaac pointed out.
"I KNOW THAT!" Matthias shouted.
"I am." Isaac calmly informed his chauffeur.
"Sometimes I think you do this on purpose to mess with me," Mathias said, glancing at Issac through the rearview with narrowed suspicious eyes.
"Sometimes," Isaac confirmed cooly.
“Not saying we don’t appreciate the backup,” Cyd said warily, turning around in her seat to face Isaac, “But I thought you were with Meg, looking for hellhounds?”
"She goes by 'Sarah' now," Isaac said, making air quotes as he rolled his eyes. "We...aren't speaking to each other anymore. She kept the dogs."
"Wait, you let her keep the Hellhounds?!" Mathias interjected as he wheeled the car back on course.
"Only small ones." The angel rolled his eyes again, not used to being chastised by an uppity primate.
"Oh well if they're the small ones …" Mathias said dryly looking at his sister as he shook his head.
Cyd added them to her mental list of messes they needed to clean up when this was all over.
--------
The hinges of the Chevy creaked as the doors were opened, and several nearby birds took flight as they were almost simultaneously slammed shut.
Mathias used the second key to open the large trunk, and out of habit, Cyd inspected the Devil’s trap painted on the inside. You couldn’t be too careful. Using a sawed-off shotgun, Mathias lifted the fake cover, exposing the cornucopia of weapons the big trunk contained. Even with everything from holy water to hand grenades, there was still enough room for a body or two which came in handy more times than Cyd cared to count.
Cyd grabbed the holy water while Mathias checked his pearl-handled Colt M1911A1, a gift from their Dad when Mathias started to hunt. He checked to make sure the bullets were engraved with devil’s traps, while Cyd took the demon-killing knife they’d boosted from Ruby.
The pair worked the practiced ease as they armed up ready for a fight. It was always better to be over-prepared than under. With a sublet nod from his sister, Mathias slam closed the trunk. "We got work to do."
With the trunk no longer obscuring the view of the diminutive angel, Isaac stood there with an unimpressed look on his face and a cheeseburger in each hand. The sandwiches seemed to appear out of nowhere, though the generous pockets on his long beige trenchcoat were certainly more than capable of holding a few snacks comfortably in each. He took a healthy bite from one of the burgers and pointed at the sibling's collected kit with the other. "Not with that you're not." He said plainly, his words muffled by half-chewed food.
"Issac … why are you bringing a burger to a gunfight?" Mathias asked with an arched eyebrow.
“And since when do you eat?” Cyd asked the rogue angel.
"Oh, so like he's the only one allowed to enjoy cheeseburgers around here?!" Isaac protested, bits of food and spittle shooting from his mouth as he pointed an accusatory sandwich at Mathias.
“No,” Cyd replied, pulling the leather-bound notebook from her flannel lined jacket. “But according to Dad’s journal, what little lore there is says angels don’t eat or drink.” She tapped the page she was referring to for emphasis.
"Oh really??" Isaac said with a mocking tone as he gulped down hard to clear his mouth of food. As he stuffed the still uneaten burger back in his pocket, he snatched the book from Cyd's hands. "Gimme that!" He grumbled as he put the half-eaten sandwich down on the Impala's trunk, the flawless paint job sullied but a smear of ketchup and half melted cheese. The angel fumbled in his inside coat pocket for a moment until he fished out a pen. He looked at the particular page the journal was open to and started scratching out words and writing in something in their place. He tossed the book back to Cyd. "There. Fixed." He proclaimed.
Cyd furrowed her brow and picked up the book. “Angels do whatever they damn well please,” she read aloud, shooting a disgusted look to the boy in the trenchcoat stuffing his face. “Let’s just go get this over with.”
“Hello, Boys,” a familiar voice with an English accent quipped. The short, balding man clad in all black nodded to Cyd to include her in the greeting. “Moose.” Cyd looked down. Sure the holidays had just been there and maybe Mat did talk her into KFC for Christmas, but Moose? Crowley’s comment convinced her to go back to salads.
”The hell are you doing here?” Mat asked with a sneer.
“I brought you a little peace offering, thought it might soften the blow. Death is always a little more receptive when you bring him one of his favorite food groups.” Crowley offered. “Tell ‘em they’re from the King of Hell.”
Isaac grabbed at the bag of fried pickles, only to have Crowley snatch them back and toss them to Cyd, the one most likely to see they were delivered as intended.
“Why can’t you people just sit on clouds and play harps like you’re supposed to?” Crowley grumbled.
“I’m more of a drummer.” Isaac countered, dropping a wrapper on the ground.
“Dude!” Cyd chastised, picking it up. “Litter, really? Not cool.”
Crowley chuckled. “You know, it’s ironic. You three go around, big damn heroes, save the world, blah blah blah but between his feathery arse and Mat’s unusual attachment to this glutton of nonrenewable energy,” he took a moment to kick the Impala’s rear tire. Mathias looked like he was going to kick more than that in return until Cyd put a hand on his chest to stop him, “the Earth is going to get used up. Now me? I'm always up for some good old self-inflicted misery. But where's that gonna leave you lot? Find a new solar system, maybe terraform and colonize it? Maybe scores of other new Earths, some rich and flush with the new technologies, some not so much? And for what? All's so you can barely scrape, maybe get yourself a ship, find a crew, and just keep flying?
Cyd and Mathias exchanged a glance before bursting out laughing. “Shyeah, like that’d ever happen.” Mat snapped with disgust. “So beat it, Badger. I said we got work to do.”
"There's that can-do attitude I was waiting for!" Isaac said, perking up. His jovial expression was short-lived as he waved his free hand lazily at the twins' choice of weapons. "Seriously, though, bring more that or you're gonna die." He said, his voice falling back into that familiar emotionless monotone.
“We’re not gonna die,” Mathias objected. “We got an Angel of the Lord. You make with the smiting.”
“I’m not that kind of angel,” Isaac shrugged, tossing another wrapper on the ground.
Cyd quickly picked it up and stuffed it in her flannel-lined pocket. “So what kind of angel are you?” she asked.
Isaac perked up and straightened the blue tie that hung haphazardly around his neck. “I’m an angel of encouragement!”
“The hell is that? Mat sneered, checking his weapon one more time.
Isaac searched his trenchcoat but was sadly out of cheeseburgers. “You know that little voice inside that tells you how great you're doing? That's me!”
Cyd tilted her head, both eyebrows raised, unimpressed with Isaac’s hidden ‘talent.’ “That’s it?”
“Whaddya mean, that’s it?” he asked with indignity.
Cyd mugged up and nodded her head, trying to be diplomatic. “It’s… something.”
“Something useless,” Mat mumbled. Cyd swatted him for good measure.
“Like those corporate motivational posters,” Isaac added. “Know the one of the kitten hanging from a branch?” He pointed to himself proudly.
Cyd let that sink in. “Okay, seriously, dude? You might be a demon.”
“Yeah, SERIOUSLY, dude??” Mathias added. “What good are you?? Without smiting, you’re like a...baby in a trenchcoat!
Isaac glowered for a moment, shifting his jaw while turning to look away. With a petulant huff, snapped his fingers and he and Crowley disappeared.
“I think you hurt his feelings,” Cyd chastised, as she and Mat went to do what they did best. Saving people. Hunting things. The Family Business.
