The Wheels On The Bus Chapter XVII

XVII.

“Hey Rowena,” all three of them say when the door opens and she enters the room.

Seeing as all the infirmaries were filled and they all needed to meet with the hunters anyway, Castiel had dragged Belphegor and Jack to the hunters’ meeting room to wait there while Adam helped out with the injured. Belphegor had offered to share his idea on Michael, but Adam had said that his own idea might need to happen alongside Belphegor’s so it was best to get as many people rested and ready as possible, so they’d postponed their plotting and instead waited for Sam and Dean to have some free time.

It’s been a few hours since, but the Winchesters needed to rest, so instead, they’d raided the kitchen for juice packs and are currently sitting around the meeting room, Castiel babysitting them.

“Boys,” Rowena says, nodding in acknowledgement. Castiel gives her a nod in greeting as well, and she inclines her head in return. She’s pulled her hair up into a bun and has shed her coat, opting for more comfortable clothes since she’s likely to stay the night in the school anyway. Her eyes immediately go to the crook, lying on the table. “So this is Lilith’s Crook?”

“Yeaaaaah, s’not’ery flashy,” Belphegor says, chewing on the hard plastic straw he’s drinking through. 

Rowena picks up the crook, holding it up experimentally. She pauses. “Very powerful.”

“Thanks,” Belphegor says.

“And you made it?”

“Yeah.”

“Interesting,” Rowena says. She turns the horn around a few times, like she’s searching for something, but she’s not finding anything on the surface. She looks down the inside of it and then nods to herself, apparently finding what she’s looking for. 

Belphegor crosses something off his bingo card before tossing his empty juice pack at the steadily growing pile of empty packs by his side. “I’m not accepting commissions, stop looking at that like you’re about to tell me to make you something for exposure.”

“I can make my own, don’t you worry,” Rowena says, setting the crook down. “It won’t be runed in Enochian, but I’ll manage.”

“The crook’s runed in Enochian?” Adam grabs the crook and closes an eye to look at the inside with the remaining open one. “Huh. Did Lilith rune this too?”

“Yeah, I just told her what I needed it to say,” Belphegor says. “If she didn’t trust me and wrote it however she wanted it, it would’ve been a bust, but hey, turns out she values my expertise.”

“So the crook plan still could have failed anyway?” Adam asks.

Belphegor stares at the table like he’s just realized that and then points a finger to Adam. “Ah.”

“Idiot,” Adam says. 

“Idiot,” Jack immediately parrots, not a beat late.

Belphegor flips them both off. He crosses off another box, skims his bingo card, and then sets down the pen, satisfied.

“What’s that?” Rowena asks.

“A bingo card,” Castiel says, sounding tired.

“An apocalypse bingo card,” Belphegor corrects.

“So he insists,” Adam says.

“Cranky because you don’t have one, don’t you?” 

“Shut up,” Adam says, turning his chair to look around. “Is there cardstock in here?”

“I think I saw some vellum boards,” Jack says, getting up and making his way to one of the teachers’ desks pushed to the side. He opens up drawers until he finds the one with the stack of vellum boards. 

He slides them over to Adam as he sits back on the table. Adam immediately grabs a board and folds it into four parts, carefully licking the folded edge so he can tear it up easier.

“You are disgusting, just get a scissor,” Belphegor says.

“Fuck you,” Adam says.

“You’re gonna get a paper cut though,” Jack says.

“This is a blunt edge!”

“Children,” Rowena says, sharing a look with Castiel, exasperated. 

“Unfortunately,” Castiel says.

Adam tears up the board and takes one of the pieces, before he realizes he doesn’t have a pen and stands up to look for one. Belphegor offers his pen to Castiel. 

Jack takes one of the torn pieces, showing it to his dad. “I’m making one.”

Castiel sighs and takes a piece.

“Ah, parenthood.” Rowena chuckles. 

Adam snickers as he sits back down, tossing a pen to Jack so they can both start on their cards.

Rowena picks up Belphegor’s bingo card, tattered and creased from how much running and being thrown around Belphegor has had to endure. 

“You won,” she says, “And without a bonus tile too, impressive.”

“And I earned that win too, considering I had to do half of the shit I crossed off myself,” Belphegor says. 

“Did you write this before or after the attack?”

“Before,” Belphegor says. “Coincidentally right before, in fact.”

“Lucky,” Rowena says.

“You said we were gonna save Michael through luck,” Adam says. He’s finished making his grid.

“We can, not we will, there is a distinction. I haven’t tried this yet - oh, and write things that you think are going to happen next, don’t cheat and make tiles for what’s already happened,” Belphegor says. Rowena slides the card back to him.

“Why not?” Jack asks.

“‘Cause we might need your cards later,” Belphegor says. “It’s an apocalypse. There’s a shitton of tropes you can write down.”

Castiel looks even more tired than he already does, but he thankfully also hasn’t written anything down. He sits back, thinking it over. 

“You’re not going behind Sam and Dean’s backs this time?” Rowena asks, amused. “No compelling everyone to ignore you and letting someone else fix it?”

“Sorry.” Jack winces. Rowena just laughs.

“Sorry,” Adam repeats, “But no, not this time. I think - I think this time we have to just go all out even if it catches Chuck’s attention. ‘Cause we might already have Chuck’s attention anyway.”

“But you stopped the attack, didn’t you?” Rowena asks.

“I don’t think that was...a concern of his,” Belphegor says.

“Oh?”

“He didn’t organize the attack,” Belphegor says. “The Shedim did.”

Jack looks up to see Castiel steel his jaw. 

“He was concerned about those,” Adam says, when Belphegor looks confused at the angel’s reaction.

“Ah,” Belphegor says. “I can sift through their thoughts a little - the entirety of Hell’s, really - but I can’t get a clear picture of things right now. Even having them as background noise is giving me a headache already.”

“It explains why there were ghosts coming in from outside the town barrier,” Castiel says, “And in alarming number.”  He writes something down on his card. “If Chuck’s goal wasn’t to attack the Winchesters, then he had reason to stop it,” he says, “Which means he was just after Michael.”

“He tried to send for him, once, when we first got topside,” Adam says.

“Then he needs Michael on his side,” Rowena says. “Or wants, whichever.”

“If he wants firepower, we have Jack to match Michael,” Belphegor says. “But we’re still deficit something to match Chuck himself.”

Jack looks at the crook, and then at Belphegor.

So does everyone else.

“Ahaha.” Belphegor lifts a finger in warning. “No.”

Jack frowns. “Bel.”

“I’m smart, but I’m a coward. There, I admit it, I can’t face off against the guy who made me, okay?” 

“Not even out of spite?’ Rowena asks.

“I can be persuaded to, but it’ll be a different story altogether when it’s the actual PVP,” he says. “Besides, I can barely hold it together when I’m being aware of so many con - consciousness - so many people at once.” 

“You might go berserk,” Castiel says.

“Exactly.”

“Even if you’re a demon?” Jack asks. “That can happen?”

“Well,” Castiel answers instead, “I...once subsumed leviathans. Creatures older than even angels, but significantly less in number than the entirety of Hell. I imagine the advantage of sheer number that Hell has can match their power, though, at least when condensed.”

“What happened?” Jack asks, curious.

“I,” Castiel says. “Exploded.”

Jack cringes.

“Dude,” Adam says, although he’s laughing a little.

“Yeah, and I don’t want to explode,” Belphegor says. “Creatures have a threshold of power they can’t go past. When they reach their limit, their forms tend to break down. Adjustments usually have to be made, but they’re much harder when you’re not human and you don’t know how to make adjustments.”

“And Chuck usually did those,” Castiel says.

“So even if you did absorb those souls, it was a 50-50, huh,” Adam says.

“You could have died, then,,” Jack says.

Belphegor shrugs. “Eh, Michael said make an army instead, so it’s fine. Besides, even if I had to absorb Hell, it was a now-or-never kinda thing. At least until Chuck showed up,” he says. “And now we’re short an archangel.”

“Still,” Jack says. 

Belphegor shifts, uncomfortably.  

“He’s not used to emotions, boys, let him be,” Rowena says, after a long pause of silence.

“It’s fine,” Belphegor says. “We have a whole ass army now. We can use that.”

“We’ll figure something out around it,” Castiel says. “The four of you have managed to put the entirety of Hell to a standstill. We might actually stand a chance.”

-

“You look terrible,” Adam tells Sam, when he and Dean finally enter the room. 

The man lets out a sigh through his nose and takes a sip of his coffee before grabbing a chair to sit down on. “Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Adam says. Dean snickers as he takes a seat beside Sam. Adam tosses his empty juice pack at Belphegor’s trash pile. “Don’t look smug, you look like shit too.”

“Slightly better shit,” Dean says. “You guys got more plans?”

“Yeah,” Adam says, shoving Belphegor’s shoulder lightly so he jolts up awake from where he’s sleeping, arms folded on the desk. 

The demon honest to goodness hisses at him as he swats his arm away. “Piss off, Milligan.”

Adam laughs. “Shut up, we all know you were pretending,” he says. “Time to explain why the fuck we’re gonna save Michael with a bingo card.”

“You healed your eyes?” Sam asks. “I mean - Dean told me, but it’s…”

“Still weird to look at?” Jack says.

“Yeah.”

“Aw, come on, you’ve been seeing this face around for years, it can’t be that weird.” Belphegor turns to Castiel. “Right, Cas?”

“Don’t push your luck, I can always find a staple gun.”

“Ah, well, one day,” he says. He leans back on his seat, relaxing. “So,” he starts, “It’s the end of the world.”

“You got Hell under control in one giant swoop,” Dean says. “Please don’t tell me the problem’s worse than it is.”

“Well,” Adam says.

“Fuck,” Dean says. He pinches the bridge of his nose before giving up and putting his head in his hands, leaning his elbows on the table. 

“How bad is it?” Sam says, taking the news slightly better with the coffee he’s nursing. 

“You want us to rip the bandaid off quickly, or do you want us to let you down slowly?” Adam asks.

Dean looks up to share a look with Sam for a second, and then both of them nod. 

“Rip the bandaid off,” Sam says.

“Oh, we’re totally fucked,” Adam says, just as Belphegor and Jack also start talking. “Beyond comprehension.”

“Neck deep in shit, and not because we’re standing in it; we’re already trying to swim,” Belphegor says, ever eloquent. 

Jack cringes. “Yeah, it’s...bad. It’s not just Hell.”

“You three seem to know a lot more about the situation than you’ve told us,” Castiel says.

“Well, they did go behind your backs to try and save everyone,” Rowena says, leaning forward, amused. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that wasn’t the only time they’ve done it.”

The three of them quiet down. 

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Well?”

Jack elbows Adam. 

“Jack,” Adam whispers, even though the rest of the room can hear him just fine from how quiet the rest of the school is, exhausted from evading a near-massacre.

“This was your idea,” Jack says.

“Actually yeah, he’s right, you were the one who brought up the idea,” Belphegor says. 

“I thought it was all four of us against the apocalypse,” Adam says.

“Yeah, but you’re the one who brought it up in the first place,” Belphegor says.

“All four of you against the apocalypse?” Castiel asks. 

“Ah, see,” Adam starts, falters, and then thinks for a moment and sighs. It’s not like there’s really anything the Winchesters can be pissed about, they didn’t do anything stupid (bar compelling every hunter in their immediate area so Michael and Belphegor can run to Hell). They were trying to help, and one of their plans had already succeeded, so that had to be a point in their favor. 

“Go on,” Sam says, gentler so as to be more encouraging.

Adam nods. “Bear with me here, because we had some wild theories.”

So he talks. He tells them about their initial discussion of the whole thing - that, since Chuck is writing this universe as a story, would it not make sense for them to attack it like a story? Belphegor butts in for a moment to mention the universal tears, and Jack butts in to mention his trip to the Empty, and between the three of them again trying to explain something and constantly interrupting each other, they spend the next two hours explaining their thought processes and what they’ve done behind the scenes. 

By the end of it, Sam looks like he wants a second mug of coffee, since he’d sat through the whole thing without getting out the room; everyone else looks like they want a whole pot.

“I mean,” Sam starts, after a long, long, long bout of silence. “You have a point, sort of.” He pauses, finding nothing else to say. 

“And you only bring this up now because you feel that it wasn’t working?” Rowena clarifies.

“Yes,” Jack says. “Chuck still got Michael.”

She nods. “I see,” she says. “Which makes it possible that he either is aware of everything that goes on behind the scenes even if it’s not the focus of the story, or you are correct in your assumption that he focuses only on certain parts and Michael just happened to be one of those parts.”

“But Michael did have a point when he said that Heaven’s focus was on the Winchester bloodline, and only that bloodline. There were other bloodlines, yes, but all of them were in relation to the original plan of the apocalypse,” Castiel says. 

“So literally anyone who didn’t have a role in the apocalypse, was just - “ Dean makes a shrugging gesture. “Scott free?”

“Essentially.”

“And by your logic - “ Sam points to Adam. “ - that would be people existing just for the sake of worldbuilding.”

“Yes,” Adam says.

“So you’re right, except all four of you are part of the Winchester Gospels,” Sam says.

“Ideally, you want people who have no idea who these two idiots are to stop the apocalypse.” Rowena motions to Sam and Dean. Dean gives her an offended look. “But you can’t do that, because that defeats the purpose of stopping the apocalypse, because the apocalypse is integral to the Winchester Gospels, blah blah blah - “ She waves a hand around. “Cyclical argument.”

“In our defense, we did the best we could with what we had,” Belphegor says.

“And we thought since Chuck was weak, then maybe his awareness of everything was lessened,” Jack says. 

“If he wants Michael so badly, then he is,” Rowena says.

“Chuck told him he wanted to skip some steps in making a new universe,” Belphegor says.

“Oh, and the boy would be a fool to believe him. His father created a thousand other Michaels, Dean here would know.” Rowena jabs a thumb towards Dean’s direction. The man just frowns at the reminder of Apocalypse-World-Michael. “And he forgot about him for years while he was in the Cage. Do you think he wouldn’t just create a new Michael to go along with a new universe if he had the capability to?”

“No,” Adam says, frowning down at the table. 

“Exactly,” Rowena says. “This Michael is only special to him now because he has a use for him.”

“So he is weak,” Sam says. “We just need to know how weak he is and how we can blindside him.”

“Weak enough to need an archangel,” Dean says. “So we should be thinking around two Michaels in terms of power.”

“We have me,” Jack says, raising a hand. 

“That’s one archangel’s worth,” Dean says. “We still need another.”

The room quiets for a moment, thinking. 

“Well,” Castiel says, “There’s the crook. If we can find someone who can stand to absorb Hell, we might have someone else to match the power of an archangel.”

“We’re getting Michael back anyway,” Adam says. “If Chuck doesn’t have Michael, there wouldn’t be a need for us to look for someone to match his power.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna save Michael anyway. With him and Hell, we’d stand a better chance,” Jack says. 

“And I’ve got a plan for that,” Belphegor says, picking up his bingo card from where he’s put it on the table to wave it around. “But Milligan said he had a plan too. Let’s hear it.”

“Well,” Adam says. “Even if Chuck is more aware than we initially thought he was, he’s still weak. Awareness wouldn’t do much if he can’t stop full force attacks at all fronts at once.”

“You’re saying we fight him with everything we have?” Dean asks, “Just brute force?”

“Not exactly,” Adam says. “One, there is the problem with the rifts. We need to close that. Two, there is the problem of Chuck himself, have to get rid of him. Three, if someone absorbs Hell and uses that power to fight him, that would destabilize Hell, and our universe would still collapse. I’m saying we address all of this all at once, and get rid of Chuck.”

“If he’s weak, he can’t stop it all at once, not when he also has to worry about himself,” Sam says.

Belphegor sets down his bingo card, staring at it as realization dawns on him. “And if we get Michael back just as we do all of that…”

“He’s unable to stop us and has the power on his side lessened,” Adam finishes. 

“We just overwhelm him,” Jack says.

“Exactly.”

“It can work,” Sam says. A look with Dean confirms that his brother thinks the same thing. “We can still use all the ghosts and demons from Hell. Nothing collapses as long as they’re still around.”

“We can get the kid to close the rifts.” Dean motions to Jack. “You to get Michael back.” He motions to Adam. “You direct to Hell.” He motions to Jack.

“But the question is, would it be enough?” Rowena asks.

“It has to be,” Dean says.

“It can be if it was you boys against the universe spitting out whatever inanity it spits out at you on a daily basis,” she says. “You heard them, the universe only responds to you and only to you, because you are its center and its way of surviving. But this time, you’re not fighting the universe, you’re fighting the one who made it. The universe will let things align, but you can’t be stupid enough to think that by some fluke, it will be enough to fight something that exists outside of it.”

“Rowena’s right, Dean,” Castiel says. “We can’t rely on luck.”

“Funny that, since your whole plan to save Michael relies on luck, huh,” Adam mutters to Belphegor, who just jokingly sneers at him, while the others continue to talk out the logistics of their plan.

“We can weaponize Winchester luck, if you want more ammo,” Belphegor says.

“Ugh. Later, when we figure things out,” Adam says. He doesn’t say much else.

“He’s alright,” Jack says. “He’s the Prince of the Heavenly Hosts and he’s never without a plan, right? He’s alright.”

“Yeah, I know he’s alright,” Adam says. “I just hope he can stay alright for however long it’ll take for us to figure this out carefully and properly.”

“We can go back to your plan of gathering every monster on the planet to get them to help,” Rowena says, as the boys turn back into the conversation. 

“We can contact hunters,” Sam says. “But - as much as I have faith in everyone, I’m not sure what salt bullets and iron weapons will do against Chuck.”

“We can call Ketch, I guess,” Dean says. “Maybe he’s got some weird, obscure artifact he knows about.”

“I can...try to call for an alliance of covens,” Rowena says. “I don’t know if they’ll believe me, but their self-preservation has to be stronger than their hatred.”

“All of that together, if we do manage to pull it off, has to make a dent,” Dean says. “Because this would be an all-out war.”

“Well, it is the apocalypse,” Sam says, running a hand over his face. “For real this time.”

“For real this time,” Dean says, like he can’t quite believe it. “It’s really the big one, huh.”

“Which is why we stand a chance at convincing everyone we can talk to,” Rowena says. “We just have to sell it.”

“Okay, well, we should start talking to everyone, probably find a place to corner Chuck in, figure this out,” Sam says. He looks over at his empty coffee mug, realizing he’s probably going to be staying up for the rest of the day. 

“We’re forgetting something,” Castiel says. 

The room turns their attention to him.

“What is it?” Dean asks.

“Chuck’s not the only thing who exists outside of this universe,” Castiel says, looking grim. “Where’s Amara?”