35. Original Play, Small Substitutions
"Lucifer!" Sam bangs on the closed bedroom door. I swear the door practically vibrates from the obnoxious rock music playing from the other side. Since Lucifer's drama king exit, he's holed himself up in a room and has refused to come out. "Y'know, sometime you're gonna have to come out and...talk to...God."
We don't receive an answer. Sam throws up his hands.
"It's like the worst episode of Full House ever," Dean mutters.
Our ears get a break when the music stops. But we still get another nuisance from the other side of the door, aka, Lucifer's voice: "If Dad has something to say to me, I'll hear it from him! Until then, I'll be in my room."
"It—" I try, but the rock music starts up again. It sounds even more obnoxious now. "It's not your room."
"It's my room," Sam tries pathetically. He bangs on the door a few more times.
"Well, what did we expect?" I huff. "Whatever. There's only one way this is gonna stop. Chuck needs to hash it out with him." I rub my temples. If Lucifer wasn't in Cas's body, I'd kill him right now. That music is grating on my last nerves.
"Okay, well, we gotta find him first," says Dean. "We just gonna play scavenger hunt?"
"We may have to." I shrug, leaving Sam's closed bedroom door.
I pick up where Chuck is just by the smell of pancakes. This must be a pregnancy side effect. Or I'm just starving. I'm the first one into the kitchen, and sure enough, Chuck is there making pancakes. Freaking God himself is in the bunker making pancakes.
This is the kind of shit you just can't make up.
"You got an ear available?" I ask the back of Chuck.
"All the time." I hear him sigh over the sizzle. "If you're going to talk to me about what I think..."
"You know it's inevitable." I walk to the table and lean against it, my brothers take seats. "He's being stubborn, but so are you."
"How am I the stubborn one?"
"Well, clearly there's unresolved issues between the two of you, if that awkward tension earlier is anything to go by." I rap my fingers on the table. "The longer you two act like this, the less time we've got to figure out a way to stop your sister."
"Jo's right," Sam sides with me. "Talk to him."
"Won't do any good," says Chuck.
"Why not?"
"Because I can't give him what he wants."
"And what's that?" asks Dean.
"What everyone wants. My sister, my children, you humans—an apology. A big, wet 'I'm sorry.'"
"Well, so give it to him. It's not like he's askin' for a weapon, or for Hell, or for Heaven. He's askin' for words."
"I can't say I'm sorry if I'm not." Chuck places plates of pancakes in front of us. "What he wants an apology for, I did it for humanity. For the world. Look, Lucifer wants what everybody wants: Amara gone. 'kay? Let's just give him a little time to cool off."
I scoff, noticing the mug Chuck is sipping out of. World's Greatest Dad, huh? Some would beg to differ.
"Okay, well, I don't know if you've noticed, but a little time is not something that we have," says Dean. "The end is frickin' nigh."
"Okay," I say, picking at the pancakes, "uh, let's do it this way. We can coax Lucifer out of Sam's room, but you two gotta sit down." I look at Chuck. "If you agree to talk, that'll bait him to get him out. We can sort out this heart-to-heart, put it all out there, and then hopefully things work themselves out. But, uh, we can do this after we eat."
We all eat our pancakes fairly slowly. Secretly, I know, we all dread trying to pull Lucifer out of Sam's room with words. He can be compliant or be a stubborn son of a bitch.
"Hey, asshat, you got a minute?" I ask over the loud music coming out of Sam's room. Sam and Dean flank me.
"Not with a greeting like that I don't."
I lick my lips. "Listen, you guys need to hash things out—"
"You know my terms. We do a sit down if he shows."
"He's willing to talk."
The music stops. "If you have half a brain, Josette, you'll know it's wise to not trick me."
"God cut off your angel juice." I lean against the door. "You have no power here. And believe me, this—this isn't a trick. He said he'd talk."
"Word for word, he said this?"
I huff. "Yes. Now, let Sam have his room back, and let's get this show on the road."
We all wait with bated breath. Thankfully, Lucifer opens the door, a stormy expression on his face. He gives us all a severe glare as we lead him to the room where the discussion is going to take place: the telescope room (I didn't realize we had one, I never discovered this one before).
There are two chairs, one already occupied by Chuck. Lucifer grudgingly takes the other.
"One of you is gonna have to, uh, go first," says Sam. "You know what? Lucifer, you agreed to have a sit down if God would show, so—" He gestures to Chuck.
"And, Chuck, you did say you'd talk," says Dean.
"Him first," spits Lucifer. "I'm the one who's owed an explanation."
Chuck lets out an aggravated sigh, but no words.
"Okay, let's try 'I feel' statements," says Dean. "Doctor Phil. Eh?"
"Ah, yeah," I say. "Of course." The three of us sit on the steps near the telescope.
"I am...sorry?" Chuck starts off. "That you feel that I betrayed you. That I acted without cause." All Lucifer does is shake his head. "I'm sorry that you can't see you gave me no choice." He looks to the three of us. "I'm good."
"You heard that, right?" Lucifer says to us.
"We all know that you are God, but maybe could you be a little less 'Lordly'?" Sam asks carefully.
"But I am—I am the Lord," says Chuck.
"Wow," Lucifer comments. "There he goes."
"I did what I had to do! To create the world, I had to lock Amara away. And when the Mark corrupted you, and I saw you posed a threat to humankind, I did the same with you."
"No, you betrayed me. You gave me the Mark to lock her away, and when it changed me—when it did what the Mark inevitably does—you threw me away."
"No, son. The Mark—You always cast a jaundiced glance at humans. The Mark didn't change you. It just made you more of what you already were."
"What I was, was your son. Your child."
"Why should I put you first above all others?"
"You have any idea what it's like to argue with your father when your father is God?" Lucifer asks my brothers and me. The Devil looks back at his dad. "Everything is a tautology with you. Everything is, 'Because I told you so.' Everything's, 'It had to be done.'"
"Pretty sure that's all fathers," I cough. Sam clears his throat in warning to me, I roll my eyes.
"Okay, fine." Lucifer sits up a bit straighter in his chair. "Big picture, as God. You did what you had to do. But little picture? You sucked at being a dad."
"Okay, maybe I didn't handle everything perfectly," says Chuck. "But tell me: could I have kept humankind safe with you on the board? I know about your little bid to replace me with the angels. Okay, 'New God,' what would you have done about you?"
"That is not the point."
"I-I can't believe I'm actually about to say this, but...um," Sam cuts in. "Lucifer is right." Chuck looks at my little brother. "All he wants is an apology, and you're too concerned about being right to give him one. But apologies aren't always about being right. Sometimes they're just about apologizing."
"Yeah, and the great thing about apologies is you don't even have to mean 'em," Dean adds. "Y'know, I lie and tell Sam and Jo I'm sorry all the time." Sam and I glare at him. "Sorry." Dean brightens. "See? That's. Heh."
"Enough from the peanut gallery," Chuck mutters.
We're pulled away from the discussion, literally transported, into the chess nook upstairs. Great, so we can't sit in on the rest of the argument. It was getting pretty angsty too, the get-your-popcorn kind.
"Well, that was rude," I comment.
Just as my brothers rise and I go to the railing, Lucifer and Chuck emerge, both unharmed. Well, we would've heard the altercation, this place echoes.
"So...are we good?" I ask them, hopeful. It's a sigh of relief from me when they both nod at each other, then at me and my brothers. "Okay! Great. So what now?"
"We trap Amara," says Chuck. "Put her back in the box."
"Wait, what?" asks Dean.
"Yeah. Well, you were right. She needs to be destroyed. But I won't kill her."
"Why not?"
"Amara's been caged for billions of years, but y'know, she was always there. She had to be there. Y'know, yin and yang. Dark and light."
"English, Chuck."
With a sigh, Chuck waves his hand, and Sam, Dean, and I are downstairs with him and Lucifer. "There's a harmony, a balance, in the universe. Light needs dark. Dark needs light. If you blow one of them up, then, I mean—"
"It wouldn't be a good thing," says Lucifer.
"It'd be really not a good thing. Like 'end of reality' not good."
"Okay, so we gift-wrap Amara," Sam says. "I mean, we got the team back together, so—"
"Not quite. We're still a few members short of the original line-up."
"Yeah, first time it took the combined strength of me and my brothers to weaken Amara before Daddy-O finished her off," Lucifer explains.
"Even then it was close. Now with just the two of us, we'll lose."
"Okay, so what?" I say. "We need more, uh, group therapy between you and the archangels if we wanna have a shot?"
"Well, Michael is in no condition to fight, and it's outside of my power to bring Gabriel and Raphael back."
"But you restored Castiel," Sam reminds Chuck.
"Archangels are different. They're the stuff of primordial creation. Rebuilding them, that's—It's time we don't have."
"So what do you need to win?"
"What do you got?"
I chuckle darkly. "Why ask when you probably know?"
"So what do we bring to the table to make up for archangel power?"
"We could try and find more Hands of God," says Sam.
"A little redundant," says Chuck.
"What about Crowley?" I ask. "Big demon power, former King of Hell. He was a player in his day."
Lucifer takes a seat in a chair nearby. "We have the angels," he says.
"Rowena," Sam offers. "I mean, she's a snake, but she's a powerful witch. And she's got the Book of the Damned. Getting these groups to enlist and then work together, it's not gonna be easy."
"Couldn't you just compel them?" Dean asks Chuck.
"I invented free will for a reason," says Chuck.
"So we're tying our hands on principle?"
"No, you can't make an effective soldier by force. They have to choose this fight."
"But they're gonna want to know they're backing a winner," I say. "Trust us on this one, they won't want any part of the fight if they know the outcome won't work out for them."
Lucifer gestures towards Chuck. "So..."
"We assemble our band of brothers, hit Amara with everything we've got," Sam says. "Then when she's weak—"
"I finish her off," Chuck finishes.
"So, a page from the original playbook. This time with witches and demons subbing for archangels."
"Exactly," says Lucifer.
"I still don't like it," Dean comments. We all look at him. "But—why trap her when you can kill her, you know? I-I mean, you got to admit, there's a lot less room for error if you shoot to kill."
"I explained why," says Chuck.
"Right, but why keep her in play? So she can escape and we can go through this mess all over again?"
"Dean, what's this about?" I ask him.
"I—Nothing. Am I the only one thinking rational here?"
"It's about her," says Lucifer. "Jo, it's about his girlfriend."
"Okay," Dean snaps. "Shut up."
"I mean, think about it. Dean Winchester meets the biggest evil in the universe, and he takes a pass? Come on. Now he wants Daddy to do what he couldn't."
I look at Dean. "Is he right?"
"Oh, I'm not getting into it with him," my older brother insists. "Not gonna happen."
"Hey, Dean," says Lucifer. "Come on, what's good for the goose is good for the gander. We opened a vein for you two."
"I tried to kill her. And it didn't work."
"Maybe it didn't work because you didn't want it to work," Chuck says. "Maybe you didn't want to kill her."
"You want God to kill Amara because you don't want Amara to be killed?" I ask Dean, confusing myself and wondering if my question even came out right.
"Yeah, maybe there's a part of me that just can't hurt her," says Dean. "But if she's already dead—"
"Then she's already dead. Right."
"Well, that got weird," Lucifer comments.
"Dean," Sam says, "we always sweat this stuff, these choices. But, for once, we have God on our side. I mean, for once, we can actually just do things His way."
"We've got this," I say to Dean. "Come on, let's move out and gather our Avengers."
"Whoa, whoa, wait a second," Dean says, grabbing my arm as I begin to head for the stairs. "Where do you think you're going?"
"I'm helping recruit, what does it look like?" I step back, looking at Dean critically.
"Jo, maybe this is something you should sit out on."
"What?"
"He's right," Sam cuts in softly. I look at him with wide eyes. "Once we recruit, we won't be coming back here. We'll get right to it."
"You're cutting me out?"
"For your own safety."
"I'm sorry, but, say what now?" I ask angrily.
"Jo, you're not serious." Sam looks at me like I've grown an extra limb. "You've got, like, what, one or two months left?"
My mouth parts in shock. "That's what this is about? I can still—"
"Oh, no, don't pull that crap on us," says Dean. "This isn't the same thing. Jo, you're pregnant."
"I'm not helpless, Dean," I insist. "Pregnancy doesn't prevent me from shooting a gun or helping out!"
"It puts a target on your back," I hear Lucifer mutter.
"You stay out of this."
"Why should I? I'm in your boyfriend's vessel after all."
"Yeah, well, hopefully that ain't keeping up for much longer. I'd like you to be out and him back."
Sam rubs his face. "Jo, just, please. As much as we want, we can't let you. You've got a life in your hands that's not your own. You need to put the baby as priority, not Amara, not helping us."
"Guys—"
"Jo," Sam says softly. I feel warm hands encase my own, and he places them over my stomach. "Just give us peace of mind. Stay out of it. Take care of yourself. Take care of the baby. If it makes you feel better, we'll call in a favor."
I frown. "I'm not being babysat." Sam's eyes grow softer. "No, Sammy, don't do that," I whine. "Come on, no puppy eyes." I give Dean a scalding look. "Don't help."
Dean holds his hands out in surrender. "Hey, that's always been his thing, not mine."
"Look, you may be stubborn, but we'll play that game too," Sam insists.
I give my brothers a pleading look.
"We know you're dedicated to family, so, apply that to the one growing in you," says Dean. "Put your brothers on the backburner for a little bit. We've been able to handle ourselves without you before, Jo. This won't be any different."
Yeah, and how many times have you gotten hurt or worse when I wasn't there? I want to ask. I think back to Sam being shot. Even though I was there when that happened, it still tore through me like I'd been the one who gotten the bullet. I'd almost lost him that day, after he'd already lost me so many times before. I think back to what my brothers have told me, and what they have yet to tell me. I'm sure there's a lot they won't say because they fear me chewing them out.
I sigh loudly, slipping my hands out of Sam's, rubbing my face. "Goddamn, you two. Fine, but I'm staying here. This place is warded. I'll be safe here. And I better expect you to come back, both of you." I look at Chuck and Lucifer.
"This is the best thing for you, Josette," Chuck tells me firmly.
I push hair out of my face. "Well, then, go out there and assemble the team. I'll just wait on the sidelines."
"Don't try the guilt card, it doesn't work like that," Dean scolds me.
"Get going, you've got a team to recruit."
**Well, would you look at that? Jo actually listened to her brothers for once!
Guess it takes a baby for a Winchester to sit back and actually keep herself safe.**