Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Patrick knew it was a bad idea to let Pete have them dress up as characters from Supernatural. Of course, something would go wrong, especially when he recognises a guy named "Crowley" who buys them all drinks. Naturally something would go wrong with the infamous Pete Wentz, I mean, when doesn't it? So when Patrick starts to feel light-headed and his back hurts, he knows Pete fucked up. Again. His vision blurred, his feet felt tingly and heavy but his shoulders and head felt weightless. The music playing in Angels and Kings grew louder and louder until everything faded to black

~*~

When Patrick woke up he felt bile rising in the back of his throat. Shadows were dancing in the corner of his eye, bursts of light were swirling on the ceiling as he slowly sat up, holding his aching head. Everything hurt. With a migraine coming on, he scanned his surroundings for any form of pain medication, but as soon as he did his migraine faded out, replaced with confusion. He was tied down while Pete was slumped in the corner, unconscious. Andy was in the corner opposite of him, groaning as he sat up.

While Patrick tried to say, "What the fuck's going on," what came out was, "Hello, Pete."

Pete groaned, slowly looking up at Patrick with wide eyes, "Trick?"

"Yes, Pete, it is me."

"Why are you talking so formally?" He asked, standing up to untie Patrick, who had been strapped down his "costume" wings stretched out behind him.

Patrick groans, stretching and wiggling all his body parts, listening to them pop as his wings fall to his back. "I am not sure, I feel sore. What happened?"

"You took my deal. Needed to get the Winchesters out of Lucifer's reach temporarily. You made a good stick, but don't worry, they'll be good." A voice with a British accent said from behind them, causing them to jump and whirl around, "Peter, Patrick, good to see you on your feet! And Andy, you look fabulous darling."

"What deal did we take?"

"You wanted drinks, I wanted a stick, win-win."

"You offered drinks!"

"You took my offer. Besides, we wanted to switch with My Chemical Romance but it seems they're no longer together...not quite the perfect fit any longer. So we chose second best; you lot."

"When are we going back?"

"Once it's safe for them. You may find yourselves in danger. I already briefed Joe on this."

Pete's eyes widened, "Shit, we- where are you holding him?!"

"Don't worry, he'll be here soon enough. Once I'm gone he'll come."

Patrick paled a moment, "W-We have a concert tonight..."

Pete caught his drift, "Dean hates Fall Out Boy...and I'm pretty sure Cas just doesn't know."

"Don't worry, shortie, they've been trained and informed."

Pete and Patrick let out sighs of relief while Andy looked unimpressed, "Why did you put us in these rolls? Why are Pete and I brothers and Patrick's a...bird-guy?"

"Just happens to be what you got, that's all. I'll be off now." Crowley said, snapping his fingers sharply and disappearing.

There was the sound of clothes flapping and hitting each other and a slight breeze through the bunker as Joe appeared, sucking on a lollipop, "Hey honey, I'm home!"

Patrick rolled his eyes, "Why must you come in like that? Why can you not take this seriously?" At this point, Pete was trying to stifle a snicker at Patrick; the younger boy had fluffed up hair, jet black wings and a slightly confused expression, making him quite possibly, the cutest Castiel the world has ever seen. Patrick's eyes snapped onto Pete, slightly teary but definitely angry, "Stop that! I cannot help it!" It was Joe's turn to chuckle at the flustered lead singer's grammar, followed by Andy scolding him quietly. The "bird-guy" scowled, walking out of the room with heavy footsteps, signalling to Pete that he shouldn't leave Patrick alone; especially with his new powers. He could fly anywhere he wanted in the blink of an eye and that made Pete nervous.

~*~

Dean blinked away slowly, stretching and groaning softly. He turned to his left and saw a fluff of black hair and the lidded eyes of a former angel. Cas stretched, blinking blearily like a human would, yawning and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

A hat. A hat was next to the bed, on the nightstand. Patrick Stump's hat, specifically. 'Not mine,' Castiel thought to himself as he reached out to put it on, but recoiled his hand away. He sighed in deep regret, thinking of how he could possibly apologise to the boys of the true band once they returned. 'Patrick will be pissed.'

Pissed. A new word. Cas never used swears if he could help it. 'Right, the switch last night..'

Crowley appeared from seemingly nowhere, smirking at the now eyeliner-clad 'bassist' and sleepy-eyed angel-singer. "Good morning,boys. Are we ready to start the day of slightly-emo pop music tour?"

"Fuck, what year is it, Boris?" The eldest Winchester groaned out, popping his back.

"Ha ha ha, Squirrel. Very funny. It's 2013, for your information."

"Wasn' it 2015 in our place?" Cas inquired, flopping back down on Dean's side.

"How is it you two get gayer and gayer with each passing year?" Crowley's eyes flicked from the bedpost down to the "Holy-F*cking-Hell" duo's bare toes barely visible on the edge of the bed.

"Why did you have to choose the smallest emos on earth?"

"Fair enough. Why Fall Out Boy?"

"Because Pete Wentz just loves monsters."

~*~

When Pete finally found Patrick, in the back of the 1967 Chevy Impala, no less, the little angel was crying. The windows shook but didn't shatter, and high-pitched squealing could be heard from just outside. Pete slowly slid into the back of the car, just barely able to withstand the sound of an angel's true voice, while his golden boy himself was covering his ears, "Patrick, calm down..."

"No, Pete, I will not calm down! W-We are trapped in your stupid TV show th-that has monsters a-and Angels and-and us! W-We are not supposed to be here, what will the fans think? W-We are l-lettin~"

"Stop." Patrick's mouth shut instantaneously at the order, causing the now-Seraph to cast his gaze to his shoes, "Crowley said we need to play stick, okay? We'll do that, he's most likely got that covered, like...a spell that disguises them, or something.."

"Okay...o-okay. Good."

"Besides, it's just a little bit of monster hunting, and we've got a pretty basic guide, what could possibly go wrong?"

Chapter Text

“Well, that went horribly wrong,” Pete stated, jumping into the driver’s side of the Impala, where Andy was currently reading a newspaper in shotgun position, with Joe and Patrick crammed in the back. Pete wiped a stray spider web of blood from his forehead, “Almost makes me want to go back home.”

“Speak for yourself,” Joe replied, “Being an Archangel is fucking awesome. I can eat all the crap I want and not gain a pound.”

“Is that really all you’ve been doing, Joe?” Andy turned in his seat to look at the taller man, “Eating...candy?”

“Gabe always did have a sweet tooth, Andy. Give the guy a break, he’s still figuring out how this works. We’re lucky he hasn’t stabbed himself with his Angel blade.”

Patrick perked up at that, “What is an angel blade?”

“It’s the only weapon that can kill an angel, and only an angel can kill another angel. You could also rip out an angel’s grace and then kill ‘em, but that’d be so much work. Chuck would probably just bring them back anyway.”

Patrick nods, staring out the window, getting lost in his own thoughts. Joe’s quiet voice shakes him out of his daze, “‘Trick? What’s up Lil’ buddy?”

Patrick scowls in response, rolling his eyes and turn to face the curly-haired man, “Nothing of your concern, Joseph. I am perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

“Joseph? That’s cold man. I just was wondering if you wanted anything to eat…”

Come to think of it, Patrick hadn’t eaten since they arrived a few days ago. He wasn’t very hungry, but there was a small part of him that wanted a Bacon Cheeseburger, really, really bad, “A-A little bit, where have we stopped?”

“We’re just outside of a shitty little diner, what do you wanna eat?”

Patrick tells the taller his request, giving him a weak smile and Joe nods, hopping out of the car. Patrick was alone now. He could figure out how to take out his grace.

~*~

The new lives of the hunters were surprisingly more tiring than the ones they had before. The only thing different was that Castiel had the opportunity to watch TV. He watched everything. Dean even quizzed him. Speaking of which, the eldest Winchester was currently face down on a fluffy, white hotel bed, trying his best not to fall asleep right then and there. Cas found it hard as well, and the once-seraph had taken on another hobby - sleeping. He loved that. The ability to take a rest of just being. It was refreshing. Dean slowly slid off the bed, groaning before looking up at the now-singer. He smiled tiredly, standing up. “Shower time, young man. You sweat like a pig on a spit.”

“But Deaaaaan. I’m tiiiired.”

“Yeah, and smelly. You’re not getting any of this,” he pauses to gesture down at himself, “Until you’re clean.”

“Must I really, Dean? It seems so unimportant. I could just…” he pauses, corn starch catching his eye, as he lifts it up, carefully uncaps it, and pours it straight down on himself, “See? Shower in a can.”

“Huh, we should use that once we get home.” Dean smiles, kissing the shorter man’s cheek and wrapping an arm around his waist before walking back to the bed and tugging him on.

“What are you-” Castiel starts but is cut off by a kiss, and he smiles, kissing back. He pulls away slowly, smiling down at Dean, “Oh.”

~*~

Pete returns to the car, slipping a couple hundred dollars into his pocket before hopping into the driver’s seat of the 1967 Chevy Impala. He sighs contently and turns to look at Patrick, who has that ‘deer-in-the-headlights’ look he has when he does something he’s not supposed to. Pete narrows his eyes at the younger boy, “Patrick, what were you doing?”

“N-nothing, why do you ask?” Patrick says with a forced smile, his left hand behind his back.

“You have that look. What’s in your hand, Tricky?”

“U-Uh-” but before he could properly respond, Pete had grabbed his hand, uncurling his fingers with little effort. What he saw made him stock still and white faced.

“Patrick, is this your grace?”

Patrick stares at Pete with teary eyes, “I-It is hard…”

Pete slowly takes the grace from Patrick, gently opening his mouth before sliding it in. He, personally, had no experience in putting an angel’s grace back into its meat suit, so he tried his hardest to be gentle. The grace would make it’s way to his core, right?

There was a loud, sharp sound that rang through the impala, causing Pete to covers his ears while Patrick convulsed. After a few minutes of this, the sound died down as Patrick went limp, head lolled to the side, eyes closed. Pete gulped, reaching out with shaking hands to sit his golden boy into a position that relied less on the backseat door. Slowly clambering his way to that side of the car and slipping in, Pete picked up Patrick, gently cradling him. He kissed the top of his head, rocking him and humming “HeavyDirtySoul” softly, petting his hair occasionally.

As Joe returned to the car and saw Pete in the backseat, he knew something was wrong. He flew over to his spot, watching Pete hold Patrick, “What happened?”

“H-He r-ripped out his grace, I-I helped him slip it back in. Having it torn out was tiring enough, he needs lots of rest to recover.”

~*~

After lots of “exercise” between Cas and Dean, they laid entwined with each other, humming and talking softly. Naturally, both Gabe and Sam, though on opposite sides of Dean and Cas’s room, heard it all. Gabe was the first to break, clearing his...business in a nice, cold shower. Sam was recording the entire thing from his side of the walls, playing it over and over again and laughing. Dean would be getting so much shit for this later.

After his shower, Gabe grabbed a bag of marshmallows, a blanket, and a movie, heading to Sam’s room. They shared a...profound bond, of sorts.

Chapter Text

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Lucifer smirked, watching Patrick slowly breathe up and down like prey, he watched as Pete tried to keep him safe.

"Yeah, right" he muttered, teleporting into the backseat next to them, but he continues to make himself invisible, shielded by his powers. "Paaaaatrick." he sang softly into the angel's ear, "Paaaaatrick. I'm here now, don't worry. I'll mold you into the role my betrayer wants you to play."

~*~

Dean sighed as he walked off stage. To be honest, being a rock star isn't all that he'd hoped it'd be. He ran a hand through his hair before wrapping an arm around Cas. Nobody blinked an eyelash at the singer, all entranced. Ratings were off the charts, they were all tired. 'Fuck,' Dean thought, 'I'm going soft. 8 hours of sleep and I'm this tired? Four hours and a demon hunt and I was good for a week.'

Castiel turned and smiled at Dean, nuzzling his head into the taller's neck, "I no longer hear prayers, I hear hope."

"Deep," Gabriel replied with an eye roll, "How's your ass?"

"It's doing well, thank you."

"Rhetorical question."

"I'm aware." Cas gave an easy smile. He could get used to this, being in Patrick's place. Having Dean always next to him, never having to kill. He was learning so many new emotions.

"Ahh, Winchesters and Halos, we seem to have a problem on our side," Crowley said, appearing behind them.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. We've got a problem."

"Deal with it." Dean snapped.

"Lucifer's out of the cage."

Chapter Text

Pete drove the Impala home, carrying Patrick inside before laying his weary head to rest. When he woke up, though, Patrick was no longer there.

This wasn't unforeseen by Crowley, however, wincing, then laughing nervously when Pete turned to look at him, eyes rage

"Where is he?"

"So, maybe...Lucifer might be possessing him..."

"Excuse me?"

"Or maybe a yellow eyed demon. Not sure. Might wanna wait it out."

"EXCUSE ME?" He raged, eyes wide and wild as he charged at Crowley, missing and hitting the door when he teleported behind him.

"I didn't think he'd get...you know, possessed, but if you act like that then maybe he should stay that way!"

Pete paled, then his face grew red in anger. Patrick appeared behind him, holding his arm, however. He looked at Crowley, cold, "Lucifer is not inside me, Crowley."

Pete embraced his friend, holding him tight. The angel flinched, closing his eyes, then snapping them back open.

The demon narrowed his own, sensing his change in demeanor, "Patrick, have you seen Lucifer?"

The ginger adverted his eyes to the ground, timid. The demon sighed, "Damn it." He muttered before turning to Pete, "Stay with your boy. Don't fuck in the Impala, I'm gonna switch him and Cas."

"What?" Pete looked at him with wide eyes.

"What?" Patrick echoed, paling, nearly shaking in his own shoes, "No, No, no way! Those guys, they, th-they killed a diner full of people! Innocent people!"

"Would you rather deal with Satan himself?"

"Yes!" He growled, eyes flashing yellow for a moment.

Crowley paused as he saw this, "Lucifer, please empty his body."

"No! It'...it's warm, it soft..." he muttered, like a child, playing up as if he were innocent.

"Please?"

"No!"

"I'll give you a cookie." Pete cuts off Crowley, stepping in front of him, "And...maybe a massage?"

"N-no..." He narrowed his eyes, snapping out of his daze, "I am literally Satan! You're trying to bribe me with a cookie?" He rolls his eyes, flinging the Black haired male against the wall, laughing. He turned to Crowley, "You betrayed me."

"Abaddon betrayed me..."

"Do I look like I care?"

"No."

"Good. Get me the colt, or I'll end you." He growls, then disappears.

~*~

Things were falling apart on the Winchester side.

On one hand, they were loved by all.

On the other hand their phones were blowing up with hate, Sammy and Cas were missing, and he lost his hotel card.

So yeah, not good.

Dean marched up and down the halls, mundane in this world, softened by pampering and social status he really couldn't mess with. Gabriel was behind him, trying to think of rational reasons why they're gone or where they might be.

He said nearly nothing.

Hours later, Cas stumbled in, messy and disorienteded, coughing a bit. He was covered in blood, presumably his own, as Dean ran over, holding him up. Sammy was in better shape, but that didn't mean anything. Gabriel called an ambulance, and the two formerly missing parts of their band were whisked away on gurneys.

Hours later there was only steady beeping from Cas.

"He's in a medically endured coma so he can recover. I suggest canceling your tour, Mister Winchester."

He looked back at the nurse, expecting her to change her eye color any minute, but instead she came over and switched out his drip, then left.

Dean stared behind her, sighing, kissing Castiel's hand. He sat by him.

Sammy, he was alright. He only had to be kept overnight. But Cas?

Who knew how long.